#though i do keep books that are in a series together

[cbrownjc]

Hi! I hope you don't mind getting an ask from me even though we've never interacted.

I have a question about Old Daniel in the IWTV series, but I don't know how to put it except: what exactly is his current health situation? He has Parkinson's disease (or at least they show us ha has some symtomps, and Daniel says it is Parkinson's), but in ep 01 of the first season Louis calls it an "autoimmune disease" (which Parkinson's is not).

They show us that Daniel keeps a bunch of pill containers on his table in his apartment, which makes sense with how Parkinson's would be treated, but then there's the "levodopa transfusion" scene which does not. (I could try to explain the pharmacokinetic reason if you're interested).

And then there's the meals, during which they keep filling his wine glass, the two Martini scenes. . . why do they keep giving him drinks?They arrange for a doctor to come and administer the "therapy" (I'm not buying that it's levodopa), but he can have all the alcoholic beverages in the world? When they most likely would interfere with the pharmacological therapy he's supposed to be taking?

It all seems a bit suspicious to me. What do you think?

(apologies for any mistakes, english is not my first language)

Hi! It's fine to ask me questions even if we've never interacted before, I don't mind. 🙂

So, as far as we know older Daniel on the show has Parkinson's disease for sure. Daniel pretty much confirmed he does because Louis said he had it and Daniel confirmed it in episode 1x01. And the shaking very much shows he does have it IMO. Because he was specifically shown to be shaking back in episode 1x01 when he was trying to put the Fall of the Reble Angles puzzle together.

Now, as many who read my blog likely already know, I've talked about how my mom had Parkinson's and I was her primary caregiver (before she passed away). So I know a lot already about how that disease works. And so when Armand -- as Rashid -- was talking about "levodopa transfusions" for Daniel being scheduled back in episode 1x04 I was very much "WTF?" about that. The whole idea of that is sus because I know from experience that Daniel should just be taking his levodopa via pills. The only time my mom ever got levodopa administered via an IV drip was when she was staying overnight at a hospital.

So I've long thought there is way more going on with that "levodopa transfusions" Daniel got, and have talked about it here and here. Though at the current time, the theory I talk about in those links might be outdated at this point, though I think there might still be a little something to them.

But, if you know the lore, Dr. Fareed -- the doctor who arrived back in episode 1x06 to administer Daniel's transfusion -- is not only a vampire himself but runs a clinic in the books where he looks into and does experiments regarding vampire physiology. And something else that caught my eye about that clinic he runs as I've been reading Prince Lestat, is that it is said in the book that Fareed and his vampire Maker (and lover) Seth, "ran a small clinic for mortal incurables."

And Parkinson's is very much "incurable."

So yeah, I think something is going on when it comes to Dr. Fareed giving Daniel that IV drip of levodopa. Because even when it comes to the idea of cloning, that's a lot to go through just to get something like a blood sample or something I think. But hey, there's really no saying when it comes to that I guess . . .

As to such as Louis calling it an "autoimmune disease" I just chalk that up to either a writing mistake or, hell just Louis being a vampire. He might just not know the correct medical term to use for it. That is also something that is going into in the Prince Lestat book -- how it can sometimes be very hard for vampires to keep abreast of tech and other things at any given time if they do not encounter it or use it regularly. (Lestat is always forgetting and losing his iPhones). As to the alcohol that, again, could just be the show not really looking too closely at such things (because outside of medical shows, many drama shows don't), or maybe Daniel only being allowed one glass a night and being given some okay about it we never saw. Who knows at this point. 🤷🏾‍♀️

[footprintsinthesxnd]

Chapter 12: New Normal

Gale Cleven × Hope Armstrong (ofc)

Series Masterlist

This story is based on on the fictional portrayal of these men from the MOTA to series.

Summary: Gale finds himself arriving at Stalag Luft, finding Hope not quite as he left her. As the girls try to find a new normal within Stalag Luft, Hope struggles with her insomnia and pushes her friends away.

Collab: A Pair of Silver Wings by @major-mads

October 9th, 1943, Dulag Luft

Gale tapped his leg rhythmically against the wooden, the anxiety buzzing inside him. He felt as though he was on a high and at any moment he’d leap out of his chair and start wrecking the office. He wondered if this was how his father felt after having too much to drink. Gale had never been a violent man, choosing to talk things out rather than use his fists but after the events of the last few weeks, he felt like killing every Kraut that walked through that door with his bare hands.

He shouldn’t be here, in some dowdy German interrogation room. He should have been back in England with Hope, using the four days leave they had obtained after their wedding. They should have been in London, in the obnoxiously posh hotel John had booked for them, making use of the four-poster bed. They had the whole thing planned out, they weren’t even going to leave their room, instead choosing to spend those four days in their little bubble of wedded bliss, laying in bed until noon.

Gale had planned to read a book that Hugh had recommended to him a while ago, and Hope was excited that she could spend a whole ninety-six hours with him, it was the longest amount of time they would have ever spent together.

The large wooden door swung opened and a tall Luftwaffe Lieutenant strolled in, whistling a tune as he went. He barely looked at Gale, shuffling through the folders on his desk until he pulled one free, thumbing through the pages with a satisfied smile.

“Hmm,” he sat down on the opposite side of the desk, a vile smirk on his lips. “So you are the infamous Major Gale Cleven. It is good to finally meet you, Major. I am Lieutenant Haussmann.”

Gale glared at him, his bright blue eyes boring into the other man’s chest, refusing to meet his gaze and give him the satisfaction of his attention.

“So Major Cleven, do you care to tell me about yourself?” Haussmann sat down opposite, thumbing his way through a folder absentmindedly. Gale wondered what he was looking for. What information could they possible have on him?

“Major Gale Winston Cleven. Serial number 0-399782,” Gale replied plainly, ignoring the frustrated look on the Lieutenant’s face. Gale could only imagine that he’d been receiving the same reply from all of his crew, not to mention from the other crews that had gone down with them. There’s only so many times you can hear names and serial numbers before the task becomes tedious.

“Now Major, you know I know that information already,” Haussmann tutted, “Is there nothing of interest you would like to share? We could have a quid pro quo. You help me and maybe I can help you in the future. Sounds good?”

“Major Gale Winston Cleven. Serial number 0-399782,” Gale repeated, his gaze never once faltering. He could keep this up all day, all night too if he had too.

“Alright then, let’s have a look,” Haussmann began turning the pages of the file that Gale could only assume was about him. He mumbled to himself, Gale picked up the odd words like the State of his birth, his date of birth, his unit, until Haussmann sighed.

“I remember why I know you now,” he pulled free the picture of Hope that Gale had tucked into his jacket pocket when he’d jumped. It was from the night of Dye’s party. It was the picture of Hope, Meatball and himself that the photographer had taken for them. Hope was smiling brightly, tucked close into his arms while Meatball sat at their feet. Hope was in her Class A uniform, her dark locks curls and her lips painted bright red, just how Gale liked them.

“You are Lieutenant Armstrong's fiancé, yes? Yes, I do remember you now. She also had a picture of you,” Hausmann recalled.

Wait, how did he know Hope? Was Hope here? Had she been captured too? Was she still alive?

Haussmann continued talking, rambling about something but Gale had spaced out the moment he’d heard Hope’s name. She was alive after all.

Haussman seemed suddenly interested in something tucked into an envelope within the file, pulling free the two gold wedding bands and the dainty gold necklace that Gale had along with it. He’d bought it for Hope’s birthday but she’d gone down a few days before he’d had the chance to give it to her. He’d planned a little surprise party for her on base but everything had quickly gone hushed and no one mentioned it after news that the girls plane had crashed.

The moment he had heard that the girls had gone down, Gale’s heart had stopped beating, frozen in time. It had turned to stone and he feared that he would never be able to love anyone like she had loved Hope. In this damp and dreary office his heart started to beat again, slowly at first until it resumed its normal pace, pounding in his chest as the idea of a reunion with Hope filled him with joy.

“You are thinking of her? Yes, I can see it in your eyes,” Haussmann sneered, leaning across the desk, “Do not get your hopes up. I fear women will not survive long in a place like this. They are not as strong.”

“You’ve never met my girl Hope,” Gale mumbled under his breath but Haussmann’s ears perked up.

“We will see,” he snapped, rising from his desk, “You may take your possession, Major. As I told Lieutenant Armstrong, I have no use for your rings. You are no use to me if you tell me nothing.” He hurried out of the room, allowing the guards in who grabbed Gale harshly, but not before he’d grabbed the wedding bands, pulling him from the chair and leading him back towards the cell he had frequented before his brief interrogation.

The cell was damp and cold, the cot uncomfortable and unforgiving, but none of that mattered now. All that mattered was that Hope was alive and she was here.

Gale slumped down on a bed, the breath that he’d been holding since the tragic news finally being released in a long, relieved sigh.

His girl was here and Gale was damned if he didn’t intend to find her.

He thumbed her dainty, gold wedding band between his fingers, pushing it back and forth along the gold chain he’d purchased for it. It held a small locket on it, embossed with delicate little flowers and held a picture of himself inside. He pressed his lips against the cool metal, a silent tear slipping down his cheek.

“I promise I’ll find you, Hope. I promise.”

October 14th, 1943 - Stalag Luft III 04:00

Two weeks they had been at Stalag Luft III. Two weeks in the hell hole, but to Hope it felt like two years. Sleep didn’t come easy for her. The first few nights she spent on high alert, her eyes watching every movement outside the hut. She was convinced they’d be moved again and after losing her friends in Dulag Luft she wasn’t going to let the same happen again. Ruth tried to reassure her that they weren’t going to be split up again, but even she was unsure of what was planned for them. She had tried to stay up with Hope for several nights, but sleep eventually overtook her and she slipped into a dreamless slumber.

After several nights without sleep, Hope grew irritated, snapping at any minor inconvenience, but she’d been forced to bite her tongue when the guards barked orders during their morning and night appells. The stern glare Frank sent her told her now was not the time to put up a fight.

She hadn’t meant to be so short tempered but as she’d watched Ruth and Frank sleep, she’d resented them for resting easy. Her mind spun twenty four hours of the day, constantly on alert, constantly in overdrive. Frank had joined Ruth is staying up with Hope, taking it in shifts to try and distract her from her constant worry.

“Do you know what happened to her in Dulag Luft?” Ruth whispered to Frank one night whilst Hope paced up and down the corridor.

Frank shook his head, surprising a yawn, “She won’t tell me what happened. When I found her, Ruth, I…” Frank shook his head, blinking away a few tears, “Well, she wasn’t the same Hope I used to know.”

After Hope rejoined them, her pacing finally ceased and she sank down onto her cot, her eyes finally growing heavy, and as the guards patrols seemed less frequent tonight, they had gradually slipped closed. Her body slouched against the end of their cot, not the most comfortable positions lead against the wooden beam but exhaustion had taken over.

Her mind swam over the events of the last few weeks, coming to a halt on the day of the crash. Images flashed behind her eyes, pulling her deeper into the abyss. Flak shook the plane around her, spinning into a nosedive. Ruth’s voice was close by but she couldn’t see her. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest but she wasn’t frightened, not really. She was worried for Ruth, and Frank, they didn’t deserve this end.

It was strange really, the feeling of falling, watching as the world flashed passed you in a blur. The descent from the sky that should have terrified her but instead comforted her in some way as she plummeted.

Over the last few weeks she grew to realise she wasn’t as strong as she thought she was. She didn’t look after her friends when it mattered most, so maybe she did deserve this end.

Hope knew it would all be okay in the end. Despite the height the C47 was plummeting from, she could see Gale waiting below her. His smiling face and open arms at the bottom of her long fall was a welcome sight. Would he catch her? What did it matter? He either would or he wouldn’t, either way at least it would all be over.

She spread her arms, allowing the wind to take her like a bird, sending her in whichever direction it pleased. She could hear a faint voice in the distance, calling out to her. It sounded like Ruth, a voice that had grown so familiar to her over the last year.

She reached towards the voice, seeing Ruth’s face beaming back at her, her own hand outstretched. But what about Gale? He was waiting for her and…

“Hope!” Ruth shook her violently, her voice stricken with worry as her friend finally came to, lurching forward off the end of her bunk and nearly knocking herself out on the bunk above her. “Hey, it’s okay.”

Hope stared back at her, dark eyes wide and full of tears, sweat trickled down her forehead and her chest heaved against her overalls. It took her a moment to realise what was going on as Frank’s worried face appeared beside the blonde’s. Ruth reached forward, trying to brush away the hair that had fallen across Hope’s forehead, but Hope caught her wrist, squeezing it painfully.

“Don’t touch me,” she hissed, pushing herself quickly off the cot and marching towards the door of the hut, not once looking back at her friends. Since didn’t care if they hadn’t had the 6am roll call yet, she couldn’t stand it any longer.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she felt her way along the darkened corridor and out into the compound, ignoring Ruth’s desperate pleas. Her heart hammered violently in her chest as her shoulders shook, tears running freely as she gasped for air, choking on her own emotions.

Stumbling blindly through the dark she felt herself falling, landing with a thump. She crawled around in the mud, feeling for her way. The rest of the compound was lit with bright, white searchlights, but behind the hut was pitch black.

She managed to haul herself to her feet, ignoring the way her right knee ached or the grazes on her hands trickled with fresh blood.

Maybe this was what she deserved after all.

Hope wasn’t sure how long she’d spent outside but Frank found her shortly before roll call, hauling her to her feet. Neither of them mentioned their previous interaction and Hope was grateful for that.

She followed him to where Ruth was waiting on their block’s steps, her brow creased in worry. When she saw them approaching, a sympathetic but worried smile tugged at her lips. Hope forced a smile in return, linking her hand through Ruth’s and squeezing it gently. Ruth was pleased to see even the faintest smile on Hope’s face. She’d been so withdrawn since their arrival at the Stalag that Ruth began to worry that she was slowly slipping away before her eyes.

The trio made their way over to the mess hut. They each collected their modest breakfast of black bread, which according to a few of the old timers, was filled with sawdust.

“I miss the breakfast back at base,” Frank whined as he chewed through the tough, brown slice. He was thankful he had always had good teeth, otherwise you risked losing a few just at breakfast.

The girls nodded in agreement, their mouths watering at the thought of powdered eggs, toast, maybe even some bacon and hot coffee. They were thankful for the Red Cross parcels that, although few and far between, helped supplement their diet a little.

Ruth still kept a vivid memory of the man by the gate when they arrived, just skin and bone. Hope had seen a man similar in the infirmary where she was helping out and told Ruth that the man was still in good spirits, which he was, but that didn’t help the fear that grew inside Ruth’s chest.

Would she end up just like him?

Hope was thankful for a job in the infirmary working alongside a few of the camp's doctors. She’d been given a sense of purpose which had been taken from her, and despite the lack of sleep and the ache in her chest, she managed to pull herself out of bed each day for that purpose. Ruth was happy for her. Hope was born to be a nurse, it was her calling and seeing her helping people again gave them all a little hope.

Ruth found her own purpose in the camp by teaching some of her fellow POWs how to read. Many of them were just boys when the depression hit and were forced to drop out of school to work the fields to keep their families afloat. So every morning after breakfast and their morning appell, Frank walked her to the Kriegie school, nicknamed Kriegie University, and she taught a few classes throughout the day. Some were basic reading classes, and others were literature studies like the ones she taught back in the states. If there was one thing Stalag Luft III had an overabundance of, it was books. The south compound’s extensive library was a popular spot, and it gave Ruth the perfect material to use in her classroom.

Frank had taken up working in one of the camp’s gardens. The girls had encouraged him to take up a study he might have been interested in but he seemed happy in the garden. “You girls know I’m better with my hands, that’s why I fly the plane.”

He supplemented his time between garden and playing football which seemed to bring some of the old Frank back. Watching him play reminded the girls of the fun loving young man he actually was. The war had aged them all and they sometimes forgot that Frank wasn’t really that much older than them.

After breakfast and the 6am appell, they went their separate ways. Hope tried to push the events of the morning away as she strolled towards the infirmary, a spring in her step. The dark purple bags under her eyes told a different story but she ignored them.

She reached the infirmary door, her eyes falling upon ‘Lazaret’ inscribed on the door. It seemed that the Germans liked to make their presences known wherever they went. Pushing open the infirmary door, she winced as it swung back loudly on its hinges.

The infirmary was a long room with a bench down one side, and cupboards underneath and a washing sink. The examination table and stool sat in the middle of the room, and the basic lab facilities of a microscope and hand driven centrifuge sat on a bench on the other side.

The rest of the ward contained a room, which was a dormitory for 10 -12 men in double bunks; this was where Hope spent most of her time. At present her patients consisted of a young RAF pilot with a compound fracture to his thigh, another British pilot with broken ribs, a young American bombardier with a head injury and a Czech pilot with a broken arm.

Hope had enjoyed being back on the ward, it had been so long since she’d done hospital rounds that it bought memories back from her training.

She’d been working alongside an English doctor from London, Edmund, and an Australian medical student, Robbie. Hope found both men easy to get along with, and there were even moments when she managed to forget she was a POW. The infirmary was her escape. Edmund had been her first friend at the camp. Despite his upper class upbringing and well spoken English, he was down to Earth. Robbie was very bouncy and full of life despite their current situation. He had been a Hampden pilot and still talked enthusiastically about his flying days.

“Good morning, Hope,” Edmund called from the examination table where he was plastering another young man’s arm. “I’m afraid I’m adding to your ward, you’ve got another fractured arm.”

Hope smiled cheerfully at the young man, who returned the gesture with a pained grin, “Not to worry, Doctor, I’m sure one more won’t hurt.” There was a running joke between the medical staff that whenever they managed to discharge one patient they gained three more.

Robbie greeted her as she strolled into the ward, tying an apron around her middle. He cocked his head to one side, “What happened to you?” He motioned to the dry mud smeared across Hope’s knees and hands.

“Oh, I slipped,” she replied, moving over to the wash basin and cleaning herself up. She winced as she ran the rough cloth over her grazed hands. She could see now why Frank and Ruth had looked so worried this morning, she must have looked quite the state.

Robbie shrugged, seemingly satisfied with her answer. “Could ya help me with this one bloke?”

Hope nodded, carefully manouvering between the beds until she came alongside the young man with the head injury. He’d been unconscious the whole time he’d been at Stalag Luft and Hope worried he may never wake up.

She carefully helped Robbie roll the young man onto his side, gasping at the sight before her. Robbie glanced over, his face pained, “Bloody hell! Poor bastards. Hows’t keep happening?”

He gestured to the blood marks on the young man’s back, indicating pressure sores.

“I don’t know, Robbie,” Hope replied sadly, carefully cleaning the wounds before she could apply fresh dressings. “We keep turning him, there’s not much else we can do. Just keep them clean and keep roaring him. If we can keep him off his back to give them a chance to heal that would definitely help.”

The young man nodded, following Hope’s instructions. Hope wasn’t sure what else to suggest. If the young man had been in a proper hospital then they may have been able to see the extent of his head injury, but here, there was much choice but to make him comfortable and wait it out.

The morning flew by quickly with ward rounds, changing sheets, redressing wounds and feeding all the patients. By lunchtime, Hope’s stomach growled loudly and she was ready for whatever measle meal had been prepared.

She caught up with Ruth and Frank just before they got in line for lunch. They were deep in conversation about something but they became silent when they noticed Hope.

“Everything alright?” She asked, falling into step beside Ruth who gave her a reassuring nod.

“Yes, I was just telling Frank about my morning, I’ve been so busy with classes that I almost missed lunch.”

Hope was pleased to see the way Ruth’s eyes lit up as she spoke about her teaching. She would have loved to have known her before the war, before they each had a part of themselves ripped away, but seeing her now reminded Hope that they might be able to find their old selves again one day.

Lunch consisted of thin, runny potato soup with a few vegetables from the camp garden. Frank beamed as he pointed out his effort in helping prepare the vegetables for their meal.

“Who knew Frank was so green fingered,” Ruth chuckled, slurping the soup from her spoon.

“Well they way he used to hug those hedges back in Norfolk,” Hope jested, “It’s a wonder ‘The Angel’ never ended up in one.”

Frank rolled his eyes dramatically at the girls' antics, pleased to see they could still laugh about something. He wasn’t sure how they kept him smiling but they always managed it. He worried of course, between Hope closing herself off from them and Ruth’s endless worry he wondered how they smiled at all. There were moments when it felt like they were back in Berkshire sitting around the mess hall telling stories from their childhoods.

“Well, I always said you should have got your pilot wings, Hope. I wouldn’t have minded you as a co-pilot.”

Hope gave him a faint smile. Thinking of perusing a different career seemed so far away from where they were.

“She’d have given you a run for your money, Frank,” Ruth giggled again, finishing up her soup. She glanced over at Hope who just sent her a small smile again. There were moments when she saw the old Hope again rather than the closed-off shell of the woman she had become. She wasn’t sure what to do, but she could only tiptoe around on eggshells for so long before someone cracked.

“I should be getting back to my classroom,” Ruth declared, pushing back her rickety, wooden chair and stepping back. “I’ll see you both later.”

“Be careful, Ruth. Do you want me to walk with you?” Frank asked, half pushing his chair back but she waved him away.

“It’s not far, Frank. I’ll be fine,” she smiled at Frank but nudged her head towards Hope, trying to prompt Frank to follow through on their earlier conversation.

Frank nodded.

“Bye Rue,” Hope’s quiet voice could barely be heard above the noises around them but Ruth did. She sent her friend a small smile. It felt like that’s all they did now, keep smiling at each other.

As Ruth disappeared, Frank turned to Hope, his face suddenly set in a concerned look. His eyebrows drew tightly together and his lips set in a thin line.

“What are we doing, Hope? You can’t close us out…”

“I’m not,” Hope interrupted, placing her spoon down into her bowl. “I’m just getting on with my day. There’s not much else I can do here, so I just have to get on with it.”

“But you don’t have to do this alone, Hope. We’re all here for you, but I need you to open up to us. Please don’t shut us out, especially Ruth. She was really upset this morning…”

Hope but her lip, recalling her outburst from earlier, she hadn’t meant to snap but she also couldn’t sit and talk about how she felt. She felt so much and it was too much for one person to bare, but it was also too much to share. She couldn’t share it, not with anyone. Certainly not poor Ruth, she had already gone through so much.

“I’m sorry,” was all she could mumble, scraping her chair back from the table, “I’m sorry I’m such a burden to you all.”

“Hope, you’re not a burden…”

“I need to get back.” Hope didn’t look back to see Frank’s broken face as she left him alone at the table. She couldn’t help it, she just couldn’t . She hated seeing the hurt in her friends eyes all the time, she was a nurse she was meant to help them not hurt them.

Pushing the conversation from her mind she made her way back to the infirmary, it was the one place she could be useful, be herself. She knew what she was doing wasn’t healthy but how could she burden her friends with her own problems. She had to be the strong one, always the strong one.

October 22nd, 1943, Stalag Luft III

Hope stared blankly at the prisoners that walked by, ignoring the shouts and calls from others. She wasn’t sure why she’d gone to the gates, there wouldn’t be anyone there for her. Hope supposed that maybe she came to the gate as a nurse, to help anyone injured that might need her, maybe it was to renew her sense of purpose. She could use some of that right about now. Or maybe it was the subconscious hope that maybe there would be someone she knew, someone who knew Gale and Hugh, someone who could bring her comfort.

Her fingers gripped absentmindedly around the cool wire of the compound, leaning against the fence for support. She could feel her knees growing weak, as if each passing man somehow drained the life from her and…

“Hope?”

Hope raised her head at the sound of her name being called, the rest of the voices around her seeming to vanish as…

“HOPE!”

Her vision seemed to blur as her dark eyes raced over the faces of the incoming prisoners. She couldn’t find him, she couldn’t find him and…

A warm hand wrapped around hers, a familiar warmth that made her heart stop and leap simultaneously. The warmth spread through her, embracing her in the golden light that she had longed for.

“Oh Hope,” his voice sounded weak, broken as it fell from his lips, but it was him. He was alive and he was here.

“Gale?” She whispered, weaving her hand through the fence further to grip hold of his jacket, feeling the rough leather beneath her fingers. “Gale?”

“It’s me. I’m here,” he reassured her, pulling her as close as he could through the fence. Despite the awkward angle, their lips met briefly. The faintest of kisses and yet the one that had conveyed the most love, more love than any of their kisses before.

“I can’t believe I found you.” Large tears rolled down his dirty cheeks, his blue eyes shining and a loving smile cracked across his lips. “I found you, just like I promised.”

Before Hope could reply a guard appeared, shoving Gale away from the fence and raising his weapon. Hope opened her mouth to scream but nothing came out, not even a whimper.

Gale’s hands flew up, he backed further away but his eyes stayed on Hope’s. “I’ll find you, Hope. I promise I’ll find you,” he called as he was pushed further from her.

Hope’s legs carried her along the fence line, following Gale’s every move until she couldn’t any longer. She watched as he disappeared into the crowd, his worried expression the last thing he saw.

She gripped the fence, screaming his name as her heart shattered. How could this pain be so much worse? She’d already lost him once but to lose him again would kill her.

She sank into the mud, ignoring the way it seeped through her clothes, wetting her skin and causing her to shiver. The wind was harsh, blowing painfully against the skin on her face, but she didn’t move. She couldn’t. The only thing she could see was Gale’s face disappearing into the crowd.

Hope wasn’t sure what happened next, but a warm hand on her shoulder brought her back to the present. She noticed it was growing dark now, the night drawing in quicker than she had realised. Looking up, her eyes met a wide-eyed pair that she remembered well from Thorpe Abbotts. Crank.

They thought she was dead.

Hope glanced behind him and noticed Frank Murphy and Glenn Graham. All men that Gale had introduced her to. Frank was behind them, a sympathetic smile on his lips as he looked down at her.

“Frank,” she croaked, not realising how thirsty she was, “It’s Gale. He’s here, Frank.” The tears began to flow freely again and Hope didn’t know how she had any left to cry.

Frank was beside her in an instant, clutching her close as he lifted her up into his arms, her tiny, frozen body pressing against him, “I know, Hope. I know he is.”

Hope felt Frank’s warm lips press against her forehead as her eyes slid closed. Finally, her body relaxed in his arms.

Frank shared a worried glance with the other airmen. None of them had ever seen Hope look so broken, but knowing Gale, he’d do everything in his power to get to his girl. In the meantime, they had all made a promise to Gale that they would look out for Hope and Ruth. They knew all too well the hell John raised after losing Gale, too, and the least they could do was to look out for his girl.

Tags: @georgieluz @docroesmorphine @major-mads @violetdaze25 @bcofl0ve @precious-little-scoundrel @blurredcolour @artlover8992 @b00ks1ut @xxluckystrike @hockeyboysarehot @groovin2beats @kmc1989 @ginabaker1666 @hesbuckcompton-baby @beebeechaos @forsythiagalt @prettyinlimegreenboots @malarkgirlypop

[monzabee]

mr. big (social media au) - cs55

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where there he was, wearing armani on a sunday, your boyfriend, Carlos.

Pairing: carlos sainz x romance writer!reader (model used: random people i found on pinterest)

Warnings: none other than some cursing? carlos being an old money dream as always

Request: "For a smau, would love to see romance writer!reader with Carlos (he is just Disney prince vibes) where fans aren’t quite sure how they got together but the influence him on her work is greatly appreciated" by my lovely @percervall

Author note: OKAY JUST REALISED I AM A CARRIE AND BIG APOLOGIST, WHO WOULD'VE THOUGHT (i might be freaking out about them, but i will always be a charlotte girl)!!! (might honestly turn it into a series because who doesn't love a satc x old money crossover???)

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

yourusername

Liked by carlossainz55, yourbestfriend, readersdigest and 438,927 others.

yourusername: busy, busy, busy bee.

user: thank you mother for feeding us with another hot billionaire novel

yourusername: you are more than welcome

user: how is she not only one of the best romance authors, but also a fashion icon??

user: can't wait to read what carlos inspired this time!!

carlossainz55: you are not wearing you glasses again, cariño

yourusername: why don't you come put them on yourself??

user: oh, they are so cute it's sickening

user: GIVE US THE MANUSCRIPT AND END OUR SUFFERING

view all 2,387 comments.

user: how did they get together again??

user: i think he ran into her at one of her book signings in madrid?

user: i thought it was when she went to the paddock for some good old r&d?

user: i heard somewhere that a friend set them up

yourusername posted a new story!

carlossainz55 posted a story!

yourusername

Liked by carlossainz55, landonorris, goodreads and 682,928 others.

yourusername: life lately & "between love and loathing" out june 23rd.

user: we love the romantic getaway, and a new book!!

user: we're being fed in more ways than one, and i am not complaining at all!!

user: oh shit, we're about to read the best romance novel of all time

view all 13,726 comments.

carlossainz55: i'm so proud of you, you have no idea

yourusername: way to make me cry

yourusername: i love you though

carlossainz55: te quiero más

user: I CAN'T BELIEVE THEY ARE THE OLD MONEY COUPLE WE NEEDED ALL ALONG AND WE DON'T KNOW HOW THEY STARTED DATING

user: it will remain forever a mystery

user: but at least we have content to keep us going through these hard times

carlossainz55

Liked by yourusername, scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc and 977,520 others.

carlossainz55: one of us made the pancakes, and one of us stood there looking pretty.

yourusername: hey, it was your turn to make breakfast

carlossainz55: and i loved every second of it

yourusername: even doing the dishes?

carlossainz55: especially doing the dishes

user: this is by far the most romance book thing this man has done

user: i still don't understand how they started dating, but good for them i guess

view all 35,726 comments.

landonorris: hey, i didn't get any pancakes, did you? @charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc: didn't even know we were having pancakes, where are our pancakes @carlossainz55

landonorris: and cooking in a towel?? how is that sanitary??

charles_leclerc: he's breaking at least a dozen health codes

carlossainz55: i hate you both

yourusername: you are all a pr nightmare

scuderiaferrari: i agree

user: damn he got lucky

yourusername

Liked by f1wagss, carlossainz55, sarahjessicaparker and 736,928 others.

yourusername: and there he was, wearing armani on a sunday, carlos sainz.

user: SHUT UP!!! SHUT THE FUCK UP!!

user: what kind of an iconic cunt slay is this

user: and just like that... they became the coolest couple on the internet

user: NEW NOVEL IDEA, SEX AND THE CITY RETELL WITH CARLOS

user: girl wtf

yourusername: no let her cook

yourusername: you might be onto something here

user: don't know if i want to be her or be carlos

view all 44,736 comments.

user: everybody say thank you mom for blessing us

carlossainz55: amor

yourusername: amor x2

user: oh she's working overtime god bless you

[touretticeddiemunson]

Steddie with those tap vibration bracelets for couples | Angst with a surprise ending

—

Eddie had been dead for over a year. After Dustin had to leave him in the Upside Down, they tried to look for him. But Eddie’s body was just…gone. Steve didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye. No one thought he would have a reason to. No one knew what they did behind closed doors, hands under each other’s shirts, lips moving together.

Steve was the one who had the idea to get tap bracelets in the first place. They were something you could keep hidden, in your pocket or on your wrist under a long sleeve. Whenever they were thinking about each other, they could tap the bracelet and it would vibrate the other person’s. It started as a cute gesture but it soon turned to a feature they used for survival going into the Upside Down.

“Tell me when you’re okay. 1 tap for safe, 2 for danger. Okay?”

“Steve, I could do Morse code. I know SOS.”

“Eddie, there won’t be time. Please, just follow the system.”

But Eddie didn’t follow the system. He didn’t fucking follow it, and instead of running he tried to be a goddamn hero. He didn’t tap the bracelet before he went after the bats, didn’t tell Steve he was in danger.

Steve would never forget the scream of absolute anguish as the bats tore into Eddie’s flesh. He knew the sound came from him. He knew his voice backwards and forwards. He would never forget the rapid vibrations on his wrist in the moments before he heard Dustin yell.

In that moment, he knew his Eddie was gone. Eddie had spent his last moments, his last spurts of energy thinking of Steve. Letting Steve know he loved him, that he was always with him.

Steve hadn’t taken off the bracelet ever since, not even to shower. He kept it right on his wrist, covered with saran wrap like you’d bag a cast. He never wanted to be separated from him. He knew that he’d never be able to feel Eddie’s touch again, but bracelet’s presence was enough to keep the grief at bay. Every now and then, he’d touch it a few times. Hoping, praying Eddie’s soul could feel it. He never told the party about him and Eddie’s relationship. Never opened up, really, about what they were to each other.

No one understood why he had shut down after Vecna was defeated. They assumed it was because he was mentally and physically exhausted. But it was so much more than that. It was grief. He’d lost his person, he was sure that Eddie had been the one. And he lost him. The only person he ever told was Robin.

He came out to the party as bisexual about a year after Eddie’s death, but it didn’t ring a bell for any of them still. Not even Dustin, who had always been suspicious of his and Eddie’s closeness.

Years went by and he still hadn’t taken off the bracelet, even though was with someone new. They had only been together a few days before Steve called it off. It had taken so long to get over losing Eddie, but something deep inside of him chewed. And chewed.

Something just didn’t feel right about this new person. It wasn’t her fault, Steve just couldn’t do it.

One night, Steve stayed awake a little longer than he normally did, reading some book series Eddie had left in his room before all the shit went down, Lord of the Rings.

His attention was drawn away by a buzzing feeling against his wrist. He looked down at it to see the gold bracelet lighting up and vibrating. He put the book down and hesitantly tapped back. This couldn’t be happening. Not after all these years. Something in the Upside Down must have gotten ahold of the bracelet. But nothing could have prepared Steve for what he felt next. Sharp, punctuated taps. He focused, hard, trying to figure out what it meant. He eventually made it out. It was Morse code, 3 letters, repeating themselves over and over.

“S. O. S.”

Eddie was alive, and he needed help.

[literaryavenger]

You Were My Sunshine

Summary: Once a year you disappear for a whole day. Nobody knows where you go or what you do, but the team has learned to let you have your privacy. This year though, Bucky's curiosity gets the better of him and he follows you.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of death. Grief. Some angst. Fluff. No mentions of Y/N.

Word Count: 3K

A/N: I realize this is a little heavy and you absolutely don't need to read it. This one's mostly for me, but I thought why not post it and let Bucky comfort other people, if you need it. As always, my inbox is always open if you want to even just chat. I hope someone likes this. Also, I promise the requests are coming, a little slowly but they're coming. I'm on vacation for two weeks so I'll spend the time writing, probably.

Masterlist

“Have a good day.” Steve calls after you as you pass the kitchen.

You stop in front of the door to smile at Steve and wave at the team as they all have breakfast together before you keep making your way to the elevator that will take you to the parking garage.

“So, we’re really just accepting this?” Bucky asks the team when the elevators close behind you and he’s sure you can’t hear him.

“Yes, Buck.” Steve says firmly.

“But-” Bucky’s protests are cut off by Tony.

“She’s entitled to her privacy.” He says firmly. “Just let it go, Frosty.”

Bucky ignores the nickname and looks around the team, searching for anyone that might have his back, but nobody else seems to be too invested in your day. Bucky gets up with a huff and makes his way to the training room, resigned that he has to let you be.

You’ve always been an open person, you’re always there for everybody that needs you and you’re not afraid to talk about anything with anybody.

Your life is an open book.

Which is precisely why it drives Bucky crazy that, once a year, you disappear for an entire day and nobody knows where you go or what you do.

You disable all your communication devices, the tracking in your car and you don’t use credit cards anywhere. 

It’s like you cease to exist for a day, leaving no trace that you were anywhere.

At least that’s how the team sees it. 

They’ve all tried to figure out where you go, but that’s the only subject that you never talk about and, every time anyone asks you about it, your answer is always the same:

Don’t worry about it.

After so many years, the whole team has decided to listen to you and stopped worrying about it. 

Everyone except Bucky.

It’s not like you’re that close with him, but he considers you his friend and he trusts you, so it irks him that you have this huge secret that nobody knows anything about.

Needless to say, he worries about it a lot.

That’s why right now he finds himself tip toeing down to the garage. He sees you get into your car and drive away and, without even thinking about it, he jumps on his bike and follows you.

He knows this is wrong, he knows he shouldn’t follow you, that you’re allowed to have your secrets. But he can’t help himself when it comes to you. You make him lose control, you make him go insane. 

He just needs you. to know.

So he follows you, as discreetly as only a trained assassin knows how. He follows you into the city and stops a few cars away when you park in front of a secondhand bookstore. Bucky knows that shop all too well, it’s one of his favorite places to visit when he’s in the city.

He waits until you disappear behind a shelf before going in, watching you as you browse the books. It looks to Bucky like you’re looking for a particular book, when you find it, he can see your face lighting up.

You turn the book to look at the back cover and Bucky can read the title very clearly. ‘Harry Potter and the Half-blood Prince’, one of your favorite books. Bucky knows that because he’s talked about it with you for hours, along with all the other books of the series and the Lord of the Rings books, Bucky’s favorites.

You chat amicably with the older guy that owns the shop while you pay for your book and then leave, getting back into your car with Bucky still on your tail.

Next you go to a small bakery and buy a coffee and a cupcake. Thankfully for Bucky you’re too distracted by talking with the nice, old lady that owns the place to notice him buying his own coffee.

He follows you again as you cross the street to the park in front of the bakery and walk until you find a secluded spot. You sit down against a tree and continue peacefully reading your book under the summer sun while sipping your iced coffee.

Bucky sits on a bench nearby where he has a visual on you, but you can’t really see him unless you were really looking for him. But you’re so engrossed in reading that Bucky’s sure he could sit next to you and you wouldn’t even realize it.

He knows you get like that when you’re reading something that captures your attention, and the Harry Potter books always do, no matter how many times you’ve read them already.

Bucky always thought you looked so cute while reading. You make no attempt to hide your reactions and it amuses him. So he spends the next few hours just watching you read, watching your beautiful face shining in the sunlight as you frown and snort and laugh and pout as your eyes dart around the pages.

It’s actually relaxing, he thinks to himself. Is this what you do every year? Take a whole day just to read without the chaos of the Compound and nobody to bother you?

But why would you be so secretive about this? Reading for hours with a cup of coffee is something you’d done countless times in your room, on the roof, in the backyard of the Compound or even in the common room, never really bothered by the noise the team makes when you’re so into the words you’re reading.

So why do it in secret?

After a few hours, around lunch time, you finally come out of the book’s trance and gather your things before getting up.

Bucky frowns when you don’t get back into your car and follows you as you walk to a small family owned Italian restaurant that Bucky’s never been to but always wanted to try. He discreetly follows you in and takes a table in the back where you can’t see him.

He watches you interact with the owner, the waiter and even the cook comes out to talk to you. It’s clear that they all know you and it seems to Bucky like you’re pretty close to them even though he’s never even heard you mention this place before. When you’re done eating, Bucky sees you playfully fight with the owner that doesn’t want to let you pay so you leave a generous tip that amounts to more than your check is and the owner chuckles to himself when you wink as you walk out.

After lunch, which Bucky has to admit was pretty good, he follows you to a flower shop a couple of doors down and he’s surprised to see the owner greeting you like old friends. It looks like she was already anticipating your arrival, a bouquet of blue roses already on the counter and ready to go when you arrive. You chat with the older woman for a few minutes before paying and leaving the flower shop to go to your car.

It’s clear to Bucky by now that you obviously have a routine on your secret day, and everyone you see on this day knows it.

So why don’t the Avengers? 

You looked so comfortable with all the people you’ve met today, Bucky can’t help but think that maybe you don’t feel like you belong on the team.

You drive until you arrive at your destination and Bucky is both surprised and confused when you park in the parking lot of a cemetery, get out of your car and enter it.

He subtly follows you in, watching you walk past a few graves and it looks to him like you know your way around by how effortlessly you walk without needing to check the names, stopping at one almost at the end of the row you were in while Bucky keeps his distance, always making sure to stay out of sight.

He sees you take a deep breath before kneeling in front of the grave and putting down the bouquet of flowers in front of it.

“Hi, mom…” You wipe the dirt off the tombstone and tidy the flowers in front of it with what Bucky’s sure it’s a forced smile. “Happy birthday.”

You take out the cupcake you bought that Bucky now realizes you hadn’t eaten yet and he sees you put a small red birthday candle on it and light it, then you just look at it for a few seconds before you sigh and blow it out.

“So…” You say quietly, looking back at the tombstone and Bucky can see a tear falling down your cheek.

A piece of Bucky's heart breaks seeing you so vulnerable and hurting like this, but he stays put no matter how much he wants to be at your side right now.

Bucky stands there in complete silence, hearing everything you say, hanging on to every word. He hears you talk about everything that happened in the past year, he listens to you talk about missions and parties and holidays. He hears you talk about the whole team and his heart flutters a little when you mention his name too.

You talk for a while and, after he assumes you run out of new things to say, he sees you taking out the book you just bought today.

“So, this year we finally got to the half-blood prince.” You say with a small smile. “It’s our favorite, hadn’t read it in a while.”

Bucky sees you open it and go to the page you left the bookmark in.

“It took me longer than I thought to find your favorite quote, I have to admit.” You say with a small chuckle. “It’s like 400 pages in, don’t judge me.” 

Bucky chuckles quietly at your playfulness, even in this situation. He can’t help but find you adorable.

“It is the unknown we fear when we look upon death and darkness, nothing more.” You read the quote before closing the book and looking back at the grave. “That’s what you told me when I was scared of the dark…” You say quietly with a smile.

“And that’s what you told me before you…” You trail off, not being able to finish your sentence as tears start streaming down your cheeks but Bucky has a pretty good idea where you were going.

That's what she told you before she died, so you wouldn't be scared.

He’s more than surprised that he didn’t know your mother died, and he’s pretty sure the rest of the team doesn’t know either.

Admittedly, families are a very touchy subject for the Avengers.

But Bucky’s even more surprised to see you breaking down, something you’ve never done before. You’re cheery, you’re bubbly, you’re everyone’s little ray of sunshine.

And it breaks Bucky’s heart to know you’ve been falling apart when you’re by yourself all these years.

“I’m sorry I only come here once a year, I just…” You start, so quietly that Bucky’s glad he has enhanced hearing otherwise he's sure he wouldn't be able to hear you. “I miss you so much and I can’t… I can’t bear this.”

He sees you running your fingers gently over the tombstone as you take a deep, shaky breath, but you can’t stop crying.

“I’m trying to be the person you loved…” You say after a moment of silence. “Your little ray of sunshine.” You chuckle softly through the tears.

It makes sense to Bucky now why you always try to be there for everyone else. It’s how you’ve always been, apparently. Always making sure no one feels alone because deep down you feel the most alone, and you don’t want anyone else to feel that way.

You are my sunshine

Bucky’s thoughts get interrupted when he hears you quietly starting to sing. 

My only sunshine

Bucky knows this song. It’s a lullaby that he’s heard you sing once before.

Clint’s family visited him at the Compound and you offered to watch his kids so he and his wife could have a date night.

You probably didn’t realize he heard you, you probably thought you were alone and it’s not like he was spying on you. He just happened to pass by when you were in Clint’s room, trying to get the three kids to sleep by singing to them.

You make me happy, when skies are gray 

You take a breath before continuing but your voice wavers a little. 

You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you

Bucky can see you’re having trouble getting the words out, your voice almost breaking.

Please don’t take… My sunshine… Away

Before you can even get the last word out, you break down completely, burying your face in your hands while sobbing.

Bucky feels his heart break as he takes in your pain. He wishes there was some clear and simple solution to making this all better for you, but there's always been so much he doesn't understand about complex emotions like these. 

Right now, as he's watching how broken you are, though, he knows that he doesn't even care about understanding. He just wants to comfort you, to try and make it better...

Bucky comes to rest beside you, he kneels down to your level and places his hand gently on your shoulder. “Hey…” He says quietly.

His presence startles you and you go into defense mode, taking his hand on your shoulder and bending it, then using your grip on his arm to push him face down on the ground.

Bucky didn’t expect you to react so quickly and aggressively which makes it easier for you to catch him off-guard and pin him down.

“Goddammit, Bucky!” You say after you finally recognize him and let him go, getting up and scrambling back to put some distance between you and him while breathing heavily.

For a moment, Bucky is a little stunned. It's rare that anyone is able to get the jump on him like that. But then he snaps back to reality. He lets you make your distance while getting back to his feet and stands a few feet away from you.

“Did you fucking follow me?!” Your sadness is quickly forgotten and replaced with anger.

“I…” Bucky doesn’t know what to say. He knows he’s in the wrong here and he has no defense for himself when he knowingly violated your privacy. “I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“You didn’t what?!” You snap at him. “You didn’t understand what the meaning of privacy is?!”

Bucky doesn’t know what to say, he’s never seen you this angry at anyone that’s not an enemy and surely never at him.

“I’m sorry, okay?” He says quickly. “I’m sorry, I was just curious, I didn’t think this would be it, I thought…”

“You thought what?” You say when he trails off, clearly pissed as you cross your arms in front of your chest.

“I thought maybe you were a supervillain…” He jokes weakly, trying to make you laugh. “Or a stripper.”

His last word gets a surprised laugh out of you as you, fortunately, understand he’s just joking before you actually punch him in the face.

Bucky lets out a sigh of relief as he sees you laugh and then takes a tentative step towards you.

“I really am sorry…” He says quietly, reaching out to put his hand on your shoulder. “I know it was wrong of me to follow you, and I didn’t plan on bothering you at all, which doesn’t make what I did better,” He quickly adds when he sees you’re about to say something.

“But when I saw you crying, I just… I couldn’t help myself.” He trails his hand down your arm to your hand and takes it in his. “You’re always there for everybody, I don’t think it’s fair that you don’t let anybody be there for you.”

You look at him for a long moment, processing his words. Of course you know he’s right, you don’t let anybody be there for you, but you also never really believed anyone cared enough to.

But looking at Bucky right now, it feels like he really does want to be there for you...

So you let him.

You look back down at the grave, your hand still in his as you intertwine your fingers together.

“She died when I was 14.” You say quietly. “I only had her, so I was on my own after that…”

Bucky listens quietly, his eyes on your face as he sees the tears starting to gather in your eyeline again.

“A few years later, Natasha and Clint found me during a mission. They saw me knock out a dude that cornered me in an alley and they were impressed…” You have a faint smile at the memory although it’s clear you’re about to cry again. “They offered me a place in the SHIELD Academy and, after that, I don’t know… I wasn’t alone anymore.”

You look back at Bucky to find him looking at you intently, his gaze intent and unwavering. 

“Doll…” He says quietly while cupping your face with his free hand as he sees you holding back tears. “It’s okay to be vulnerable in front of the people you care about. You taught me that.”

His gentle words, the way he softly strokes your cheek and the way he’s looking at you so lovingly, it’s all too much for you and can’t hold back your tears anymore.

With a broken sob, you bury your face in Bucky’s chest and hug him tightly, clinging to him while he wraps his arms around you and hugs you just as tight, kissing the top of your head before nuzzling his face against your hair.

In this moment, while holding you in his arms, Bucky realizes it’s not like you don’t feel like you belong with the Avengers.

This is just something you feel like you have to go through on your own because you’ve always had to.

And he’ll be damned if he lets you go through it alone ever again.

Blurb

[jk97]

Unprofessional Attraction | THREE

♡ pairing - yunho x afab!reader ♡ word count - 23.6K ♡ warnings for this chapter - fluff, ANGST, and explicit content (mdni), teacher/student relationship, some other members are featured, drinking alcohol, bigdick!yunho, pet names (angel, pretty, sweetheart, etc.), possessive/obsessive/toxic behavior, cunnilingus, hickeys, fingering, praise, unprotected sex, creampie(s), jealousy, blackmail ♡ A/N - I’m soooo sorry this took me forever to write (it’s so many words ahhh 🫠) but hopefully this is worth the wait. The next part will be the finale of this series. This also isn't beta read so I apologize for mistakes ahhh. I love ya’ll, thank you for your patience friends, STREAM GOLDEN HOUR ♡

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

“You could at least try a little harder to pretend you want to be here with me, ____.”

Wooyoung’s antsy fingers pinch at the straw of his drink while he watches you thumb away at your phone. Going back and forth with your friends in the group chat about Jongho’s upcoming recital is the only thing calming your nerves this afternoon. When you had agreed to his ruse, you didn’t realize you were signing up for public humiliation. Those two words might be a bit dramatic, but sitting together in the dead center of the campus food court has you immensely anxious either way. This is entirely way too public…

You don’t mean to offend him with your embarrassment. It’s not like Wooyoung isn’t handsome; in fact, that might make things worse. It helps draw in too much unnecessary attention from other women, and it feels as though there might as well be a spotlight circling your table. Luckily, Yunho has a lecture through the next hour today, so you’re not too concerned on that front. Regardless, your first fake date with him is starting to be nothing short of awkward. 

“You can’t even look me in the eyes?” He inquires further.

“I’m sorry,” you find it within yourself to apologize, placing your phone face down on the table and sliding it away. To offset your anxiety, you put new effort into inspecting your food and preparing to finally eat it. Anything to just keep busy. “This is just a little out of my comfort zone.”

“Pretend I’m Mr. Jeong if that makes it easier,” he suggests, but his tone hangs on the edge of condescension. It’s not all that intentional, but he’s poking the bear. “I have access to the grade book all the same, you know.”

With narrowed eyes, you try to let his wisecrack roll off your shoulder, “That’s not a very funny joke.”

Continuing to avoid his eyes, Wooyoung watches you put all your attention into eating the meal he’s bought you so that you both can pretend to be on this lunch date. He was gracious enough to offer to pay for any meals you share moving forward, as long as it would make things easier on you while being a part of his plan. That’s what a real boyfriend would do anyway, right? Though, right now you’re not treating him like a boyfriend— you’re treating him like some kind of dirtbag with an open wallet. He can feel his own appetite slipping away slowly but surely.

“What are you both anyway, fuck buddies?” He asks a little too bluntly.

It might be a bit muffled, as your mouth is stuffed with food, but you still manage to retort, “That’s none of your business, actually.”

His increasing annoyance is evident by the deep exhale he tries (and fails) to suppress. Wooyoung doesn’t want things to be so tense, but you’re not exactly making it easy. He supposes you might gain some sympathy for him if he explains his troubles. You seem like a genuine person despite any contempt you might hold for him right now, so he figures you’ll be understanding. He needs to make conversation in some kind of way, anyway.

“How about I tell you a bit about my situation then?” He finally offers. You hum to let him know you’re listening, so he continues, “She and I were together for the last three years, but then she broke up with me a few months ago. And over something so stupid, really.”

“Go on,” you encourage, swallowing the bulk of food in your throat.

“Well, I need a master's degree to get the specific job I want… After telling her, one of her friends got in her ear about how me staying in school might hold her back after we graduate next year.” Wooyoung tries to sound indifferent to her friend’s heavy influence on her decisions, but the look behind his eyes, as he glances around to see if she’s in the area, says otherwise. It’s full of bitterness and hurt. “She wants to travel for a year before getting a job, and they told her I’d stress her out too much with a long-distance relationship. She took that to heart, for whatever reason.”

Would it be a lie if you said you didn’t support a tiny bit of actual pity towards Wooyoung? Probably. Knowing what you know now, you ponder more about the tight situation between you. He’s an intelligent guy, and you’re sure he knows exactly what Yunho is to you with the way you get touchy about his name even being mentioned. That’s why he’s using someone else’s happiness to retrieve his own once more. While that’s not exactly just, you’re aware that love makes people do crazy things. Moreover, you know you in particular can’t judge anyone after doing what you’ve done to achieve Yunho’s attention.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” is all you can reply, but it’s genuine.

Before you can process what’s happening, Wooyoung suddenly reaches across the table and links his fingers with your free hand in an act of endearment. Your cheeks prickle with heat, not from being charmed, but from more humiliation. This is embarrassing, suddenly having to do public displays of affection with someone you don’t even like in front of whoever is looking hard enough to notice.

“Don’t turn around, she’s here with a friend,” he mumbles, and then an affectionate smile tugs at his lips. It looks fairly genuine… He is much too good at looking charming on the drop of a dime. “Do you think it’d be too corny if we wore some matching outfits a couple times?”

You hesitate for the briefest second before squeezing his hand with false affection and leaning forward on your elbows to seem more interested.

Nobody is close enough to hear you reply, “Are you trying to win her back or get her to block you? Because I honestly can’t tell.”

“It’s just a little joke. Laugh a little, I beg,” Wooyoung pouts. 

He leads your connected hand to fondle his cheek, trying to inconspicuously guide you through the motions. If Wooyoung didn’t know any better, he would assume you’ve never been on a date in your life. His hopes were much higher than this, as you’re much too pretty to be this stiff when it comes to showing affection. It almost has him second-guessing whether he’s right about you and Yunho being involved more than just sexually. Much to his surprise, your hand finally relaxes against his face, and he revels in the way you even stroke his skin with your thumb. The timing couldn’t be more ideal, truly. He can sense the attention of his intended audience, and the corners of his mouth curl into a subtle smirk of approval. 

“That’s perfect. Keep going.” 

“Don’t push it, please.”

For the rest of that week, Wooyoung insisted on repeating these kinds of daily rendezvous. This request also accompanied another for walking each other to class when applicable. He knew he couldn’t always time it right for when she’d be present, but he had his workarounds. He was fairly knowledgeable about a few of her friends’ class schedules, and he made it a point to walk with you on paths that would often intersect with those who he knew would inform her of his behavior instead. Occasionally, he would ask you to show up to school a little more fetching than usual, with prettier clothes and makeup. Wooyoung also made a point of concealing her identity from you, for reasons unbeknownst to you. He failed to tell you any more details about her after your first date, and that included basics as simple as her name. Several possibilities were considered when you finally identified this as a problem. The rational explanation would be that he doesn’t want you approaching her on your own time and taking things into your own hands. A particular irrational explanation starts infiltrating your thoughts with the more days that pass by bearing no evidence of progress:

“I’m starting to believe this ex of yours doesn’t exist.”

Your snide remark about his secrecy started as a joke. 

“I have nothing to gain from lying to you.”

His terse reply didn’t necessarily extinguish the conspiracy behind your jest. After consistently being told not to look in certain directions for nearly two weeks, and no updates on her position, it became harder to believe his words. Despite everything, you do as you’re told and pray that his ex breaks through sooner rather than later.

I’m sorry.

It seems as though those two words haven’t stopped coming out of your mouth ever since you stepped foot in Yunho’s home this evening. 

It begins with apologizing profusely for asking to come over on such short notice. Your complex’s Wi-Fi went out due to the wintery mix storm slamming the town tonight. Wooyoung’s been trying to lay it on thick the last few days and make your presence more than known to his ex, anywhere and every way that he can. Consequently, with a lot of your free time being taken away by him, you found little time to put towards important assignments due at the end of this week. The lack of Wi-Fi is the absolute last thing you need to happen right now. 

Yunho doesn’t care about your abrupt presence at his door or even the way you track slush past his doorstep. He's more concerned about how you drove in the middle of a huge storm so late into the evening with no care for your safety. Over and over, you find new things to apologize for that make no sense to him. Another set of frazzled apologies comes from your mouth for keeping him up late after an hour or two passes. Yunho can’t help but genuinely laugh at this one.

“You do realize what day it is, right?” He inquires. The clueless look on your face makes him sit up, “It’s Saturday, ____. The day you typically come over and spend the night. I actually texted you about it earlier today, I didn’t know if you still wanted to or not since you were so busy last Saturday.”

This epiphany makes you immensely bashful and draws many more apologies out of you for your poor memory and lack of communication. How could I have lost time so badly that I forgot to reply to him about something we do so routinely? Under your stressful circumstances lately, your days are running together, and there’s just too much on your plate to appease everyone. Yunho visibly sees the shame blanket you from head to toe, and he hopes he didn’t come across as if he was upset with your behavior. In fact, he’s more concerned than anything.

Your lover can hear you type much faster after this brief exchange and he scoffs. Surely you don’t believe he’d willingly let you make haste of your work so you can disappear for another week or two… he groans internally when he realizes that’s exactly what you’re doing. He doesn’t understand why you’re so self-conscious and sheepish tonight, but he’s not going to press it. Instead, he rises from his spot on his couch and creeps over to where you’re seated at his table. His hands find the slopes of your shoulders and thumbs rub comforting circles into your muscles.

“You know you’re not going home tonight, right?” He questions after a moment of being nosey and peeking at your screen.

“And why not?”

The abrupt feeling of Yunho’s large palm skating up the skin of your throat before pushing your chin up to meet his gaze above you makes a chill run up your spine. His eyes are warm and concerned, yet stern.

“Because I said so,” he says point-blank.

Whether it be because of the terrible storm still slapping at his windows, or maybe even the fact that he hasn’t seen you outside of a classroom in quite some time, he knows this succinct answer suffices just as well those do. The subsequent pout on your lips to him is seen simply as an invitation to kiss them, and he does just that. You don’t even try to argue any further. It may not be your best work this semester, but it’s not too much longer after that when you finally submit everything due before its midnight deadline.

After briefly disappearing to his room to rummage through his dresser and change into something more comfortable, you eventually join him on the couch. Tonight’s position of choice has your head using his thighs as a pillow, cheek squished against his soft sweatpants as he spends endless minutes massaging the tense muscles of your back and shoulders with his fingers. He smells so good… that lavender and musk mix has you closing your eyes every handful of seconds just to breathe him in. Even if he can’t see your face, it’s obvious that you’re not paying attention to the movie he has on the TV, so he suggests that maybe you both should move to the bedroom so you can be more comfortable. You assure him that you’re more than comfortable right where you’re at, and that’s the truth.

Despite laying so peacefully with him, in what should be a moment of sedating intimacy, your mind is still reeling with things that need to be accomplished in the next few weeks. Every time you mentally check off something on your list, there are several more things added after, such as your three final exams, Yunho’s final paper, returning your textbook rentals, finally figuring out your ceremony dress, picking up your guests’ ceremony tickets–

“Are you going to attend my ceremony?” 

Yunho hears you mumble this randomly after a while of sitting in comfortable silence. You’re sure he doesn’t need a ticket as a teacher, but the thought of having to get them brings you back to earth and reminds you of his presence.

“That was the plan,” he confirms, but hesitantly adds, “Unless you don’t want me there. I don’t want to make things awkward.”

The way you’re acting lately has him questioning things like this, now that he thinks about it. You immediately dispel his apprehension with a displeased grunt.

“No, I… really need you there.”

Yunho’s hand falters slightly in its kneading. He’s grateful that you’re unable to see his face with how you’re lying because the apples of his cheeks are taut from the overjoyed smile threatening to break through his lips. It’s one thing to be admired or adored by someone, but it’s another thing to be needed. He doesn’t hear that word often, if at all, but hearing it come from your mouth makes it even more monumental to him. That’s something he could get used to. Yunho hums in understanding, wordlessly confirming that he’ll be present. Following along the topic of graduation, he decides to ask something present on his mind recently.

“Have you thought about what you want to do after graduation?” 

“Career-wise or celebration-wise?”

“Whichever… or both.”

You close your eyes to think. Nothing immediately comes to mind in terms of celebrating, but you’re sure your friends will be holding parties to attend. Putting that aside, you turn over and decide to open up a bit about your impending employment.

“I had a great internship last semester that I put my all into,” you divulge, “They wanted to bring me on full-time, so I asked if they could hold the position and wait for me to finish my degree this semester. Lucky me, they agreed.”

“Already set up for success right after you leave that stage… You’re amazing,” Yunho marvels. “I suppose I’m just as lucky too, huh? I get to watch you shine, front row.”

There’s a brief moment where you peer up and match his fond smile that’s already beaming right back down at you. When you reach up to caress his cheek, Yunho leans into your touch as if it’s second nature. The further you both dive into this relationship, it feels as though maybe you’ve finally found an additional frontline cheerleader.

“Mhm, something like that,” you tease. When he turns to kiss your palm in his form of congratulations, you sigh. Your hands have been tainted by someone else’s touch, and here he is blindly showing them genuine affection. Before you can help it, another apology comes out, “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy lately, Yu.”

“Why do you keep apologizing tonight for things you can’t control?” The gentle, unsuspecting laugh he lets out makes the guilt sitting in your chest about Wooyoung just a little bit heavier. “It’s finals season, I know how it goes.”

When your hand returns to your chest, your gaze falls just the same. He’s right, albeit unknowingly. With those words, you can finally accept that you have no control over your current situation at all. No matter how hard you try to convince yourself that you’re guiding this blackmail ship forward, you’re just not. In any case, you still feel like you’re doing what’s best for Yunho's future. Tonight’s tornado of apologies have all been unconscious overcompensation. As much as you feel like you need to, you know you shouldn’t have to apologize for your shortcomings when they result from such unmanageable circumstances. You’re doing your best, even if your best isn’t enough just yet. 

Yunho can’t figure out what it is about tonight, but you seem like your head is a bit more in the clouds than usual. You’re here with him physically, but he can tell you’re somewhere else mentally. However, he acknowledges that he could be reading into things too much since it’s been a while since you both have spent time privately.

“Hey, stargazer, everything okay?” he finally asks in a soft voice, gently tugging on your cheek to bring you back to the present.

“Sorry—yeah, everything’s alright,” you reassure him. There’s something behind those soft eyes you’re giving him that makes him question your answer, but he keeps those concerns to himself and simply nods. “Thank you for being so understanding. I’ll make it up to you when this is all over with, I promise.”

You’re no longer talking about school with those words. He’ll probably never truly understand how much weight that sentence holds, but that’s okay. For the rest of your time with him tonight, you pretend that none of your problems exist outside his home. He deserves your unwavering attention tonight, at the very least. 

On the first day of the following week, Wooyoung requests your presence in front of some familiar dormitories. It’s been quite some time now since you’ve been on this side of campus, considering you moved into your current apartment around the end of your junior year. The nostalgic feeling you get when meandering your way to your meeting place doesn’t do much to alleviate the anxiety you regularly get every time Wooyoung brings you somewhere so populated.

“What are we doing here again?”

“I heard she’s swinging by here today to drop something off for a mutual friend,” he explains while his eyes still scope the area for her presence, as usual. 

You busy yourself with playing on your phone, keeping your head down and yourself hidden for as long as you can manage. This place, while technically not as densely populated as the dining space you frequent, has too many opportunities for lurking gazes. This particular set of dormitories sits on the side of campus that encompasses a good amount of academic halls and the largest campus library. There are plenty of teachers and students walking to classes or accessing the library, and even more lingering outside within the surrounding courtyard despite the frigid weather. Wooyoung had insisted on holding you by your waist for the time being as well, citing something about how “normal couples warm each other up”. You just want this to be over with as quickly as possible before too many people can see you both standing so close together. 

“Hey, ____,” Wooyoung hums after a while, catching your attention quickly.

“Hm?”

Before you can even fully look up from your phone, Wooyoung’s head dips down and seeks out your lips. Shock is an understatement; the feeling of your heart seizing in unison with your limbs makes you feel like you might as well be flatlining. This cannot be—

“Relax,” he whispers before deepening this kiss, interrupting your thought as his tongue enters your mouth. 

Reluctantly, you do as he says and try your best to relax while kissing him back. Over and over, you remind yourself this is supposed to be putting on a show in front of his ex. You try to allow yourself to fully slip into the role you have been forced to play. Your hands find purchase on his jacket, albeit uneasily. For someone who’s making your life so much more difficult, you can’t deny he’s at least a decent kisser. This moment feels like it lasts entirely too long, but eventually, Wooyoung pulls away and you watch his eyes dart around somewhere behind you. 

“She’s gone now,” he sighs, “Pretty sure she saw that though. Nice job.”

“Don’t ever do that without warning me beforehand again,” you scold him in a voice low enough for his ears to hear only. Wooyoung rolls his eyes, though he follows up with an apology. Even though it seems genuine, it does nothing to quell the immediate guilt that washes over you the moment you go to swipe saliva off of your lips with your thumb. The nauseous feeling stirring in your stomach over simply kissing someone else other than Yunho begins to build up and feel unbearable, “Can I go now? I’m supposed to meet with a teacher during their office hours soon.”

Despite the tremor of uneasiness in your voice, Wooyoung believes your lie without question. That uneasiness doesn’t depart your system for the remainder of the day even after removing his presence, and you decide to call it quits early instead of attending your final class. This feeling of guilt, almost as if you cheated while in a relationship, has you more saddened than frustrated tonight. To make things easier to deal with, you repeat the same phrase about you and Yunho in your head over and over.

It’s okay, we’re not together yet.

While you cook yourself dinner–

It’s okay, we’re not together yet.

While working on your final paper–

It’s okay, we’re not together yet.

Yunho’s failure to text you back that evening before going to bed makes that fact easier to swallow. It’s the truth, so it shouldn’t be so hard to digest, right?

Yeosang does not expect much when he asks you out of the blue the next day to come and spend time with him after school. His roommate is gone for the week to visit family and he’s all by his lonesome. For the majority of the month, he’s become used to you declining in favor of completing overdue work. He’s not used to you being so behind on your work, and it doesn’t quite make sense to him when other times you say you’re even busier throughout the day. You look a bit more drained than usual when he Facetimes you that afternoon to suggest it, but he figures he wouldn’t be that upset to hear another no if you need the rest. 

The answer was yes, for the first time in a while. 

As luck would have it, the imaginary shackles on you had been released for the day, and having time to yourself for an entire weekday almost felt strange. Your personified migraine had texted you early in the morning informing you he’d be out of town for the day to attend some seminar that you didn’t care enough to remember the details of. Yeosang doesn’t do a good enough job concealing his shock the moment confirmation comes from your mouth, and you feign offense.

“I'm being punked, right?”

You scoff, “I don’t like the way you’re acting like this is bizarre, loser.”

You both know that’s a fairly accurate word considering your disappearances these last couple of weeks. His broad smile at your usual banter makes you feel cherished and missed, and it’s comforting for him to know you still have such a sense of humor even through your fatigue. He’s secretly been concerned for your well-being, but he didn’t want to seem meddlesome. Eventually, you go from two faces on a screen to you perched at his kitchen table. Yeosang insisted he cook you a nice homecooked meal when you mentioned to him in passing how much you miss eating his food. His back might be turned away, but he’s still actively engaging in discussion with you over the controversial love triangle taking place on the dating reality show he has you catching up on with him tonight. Toward the end of an episode, it takes you a few minutes of rambling to realize your best friend has grown silent while he cooks. Behind your back, he’s busy ruminating over thoughts of love triangles when he decides to finally uncork the bottle he’s been keeping closed in an attempt to have a peaceful evening.

“Can I ask you a question?” Yeosang calls out suddenly over the sound of oil popping in his pan.

Your eyes stay glued to the television, but you hum in consent, “What’s up?”

“Is it true that you’re dating Wooyoung?”

Wooyoung.

His name is a burden to you these days; the syllables of it only bring you discomfort. Hearing it mentioned on a day when you almost felt like you could get away from him draws a long beat of silence from you, though Yeosang doesn’t turn around to confront such silence. He allows you the time to answer however you’d like to if you would even provide one. Even though he was somewhat putting you on the spot with such a question, Yeosang is still your best friend at the end of the day. He’s not the kind of person to pressure you or give you a hard time about your private business, despite the times he rags on you in jest. 

The truthful answer is right on the tip of your tongue, begging to be shouted, but you don’t have the strength to say such a thing yet. Instead, you inquire, “Who did you hear that from?” 

You don’t mean to, but you sound a bit miffed when asking. Until this point, you had hoped your fake relationship with Wooyoung wasn’t too obvious to those who don’t pay close enough attention, but the feeling of failure is now pooling in the depths of your stomach. You should’ve known better. 

“When someone begins getting close to the TA who’s in charge of their grades, I guess it’s understandable that there would be some rumors… Some people in our class are saying you’re together now,” Yeosang explains, voice as calm as ever while he continues to push around the meat in the pan. “I overheard those speculations and I didn’t really believe any of it at all. Unlike them, I know you’re already seeing Mr. Jeong.”

Yeosang pauses to allow you a chance to say any words you wish to insert if anything. Being amongst speculations of wooing someone to raise your grades is the least of your worries, and you honestly couldn’t care less if people believed such silly things in the last semester of your college career. At this moment, you are much more concerned about Yunho catching light of such rumors, or really anything regarding you and Wooyoung in the same sentence reaching his ears. It didn’t seem that way when you were both in each other’s presence a few days ago talking about your future, and you’re sure that he would’ve confronted you about such things if he could. Still…

“I’m not dating Wooyoung, nor would I even think of doing that for my grades. You know me, Yeo.”

You’re sure Yeosang can feel your eyes gazing over at him now, boring anxious holes through his back. You know he can hear the uneasiness plaguing you, making your words waver.

“I understand, I do. It’s just…” Yeosang pauses once more to find the right words that don’t sound so accusatory, “Hongjoong told me he saw you both on each other on his way to class the other day. I figured I’d simply ask you about that before I come to any conclusions, that’s all.”

Several beats of silence pass before you feel like you’ve finally drowned deep in this ocean of stress you’ve been trying to keep afloat in.

“Yeosang, I’m in over my head and I can’t handle this anymore.”

Yeosang finally ceases his stirring and peers over at you the moment the last syllable leaves your lips. This is the first time you’ve both met each other’s eyes since he began cooking and his gaze is undeniably the most concerned you’ve seen him give you in years. He can’t help it when he can so clearly hear the hurt in your voice. He knows you’re a bit more reserved these days when talking about your relationship with your teacher, and he understands that it could be out of respect for his privacy. This moment doesn’t seem like a situation where that’s applicable anymore.

Navigating this situation all by yourself is draining. 

These last months in college are supposed to be nerve-wracking in an exciting way, finishing finals and prepping yourself to walk across the stage for your diploma. You’re supposed to be anxious about what to wear and how to do your makeup for your ceremony, about how you should smile when the ceremony’s photographer tells you where to look as you grab that fake symbolic roll of paper. Instead, you’ve been running yourself dry trying to appease a man who’s threatening to ruin one of the best things to happen to you thus far in life. You just want to be happy. Yeosang was right in warning you about playing with fire when pursuing Yunho, but it all still hurts so fucking badly.

“I want to help you ____, but you have to be honest with me,” he stresses, “I’m concerned about you. Tell me what’s wrong, please.”

You’re uncomfortably silent for a moment, eyes glued to his while contemplating his words. At last, you decide to broach the subject of all your mental stress. If you trusted anyone to help you navigate this situation, it was going to be him. This was no longer something you could handle on your own. 

“I’m being blackmailed by Wooyoung.”

The words don’t even sound real coming out of your mouth when you finally betray the promise of silence you made to Wooyoung.

Yeosang’s brows draw together even closer in concern, “What?”

“Wooyoung found out that Yunho and I are together,” you confess further, words running out as quickly as you can think to say them, “And now he’s forcing me to date him to make his ex jealous. He wouldn’t stay quiet otherwise, and it’s all my fault, Yeosang. It’s all my fault.”

Your best friend pushes his pan away from the eye of the stove and makes haste over to where you’re sitting. He knows you better than you know yourself sometimes, already sensing you crumbling before you can realize that you’re finally breaking down. All of the pent-up stress over the last couple of weeks was finally taking its toll. 

“I thought it would be over quickly, but it doesn’t seem like we’re making any progress,” you sputter, putting your head in your hands and pressing your palms to your eyes. The last thing you want to do is cry over a man who doesn’t deserve your tears. “He won’t even tell me who she is. I can’t handle this anymore, I just can’t.”

Yeosang’s arms wrap around you to ground you before you can allow yourself to descend further into your breakdown. Very few times has he seen your foundation be shaken so badly by something. You’re one of the strongest people he knows, and it takes a lot to disintegrate the fortitude you hold. He knows he can help you build it back later, he’s your best friend for a reason. For right now, though, he’ll let you get everything out that you’ve been holding in and dealing with by yourself. He knows you probably had your reasons to keep such things inside and away from him.

“He kissed me yesterday and I felt so guilty for the rest of the day, like I betrayed Yunho,” you tell him, and before you realize it tears are finally brimming in your eyes.

“Be kind to yourself, ____,” Yeosang hums while he holds your face in his hands. “You didn’t do that because you wanted to, it’s okay. You don’t have to deal with this alone anymore, okay?”

Hearing those words for the first time since this all began allows a veil of peace to cover you and you nod, finally accepting your need for help. Yeosang promises you that he will do whatever he can to find out who Wooyoung has his sights set so heavy on without interfering enough to throw things out of kilter. His help could be the only chance you had at getting this charade to end faster, even if it meant riskily trying to nudge things along behind Wooyoung’s back. You were no longer satisfied with being patient, and you now realize you don’t have to settle for that anymore.

While you might’ve gained some peace that night, around 2 AM that morning, there is no peace to be found in the home of your lover.

Yunho’s been staring at his ceiling for the last hour, unable to sleep even though he knows he needs to be up in a handful of hours for work. He had tried to push this situation plaguing his thoughts out of his mind all day yesterday, but his brain does its worst on nights when he’s left to his own devices and his thoughts spiral. At least tonight it’s not for self-sabotaging reasons like he’s prone to. 

He allows himself to close his eyes and relive the moment when he saw you and his assistant kissing on his way to a multi-department meeting at the library. The moment he recalls the way your hands were clutching Wooyoung’s chest, he grimaces with unadulterated resentment. For the entirety of yesterday, he felt numb. He went through the day simply going through the motions, lacking any of his usual charisma and cordiality amongst most people he crossed paths with throughout the day. He was able to put on a mask for his students at the very least. How is one supposed to act when they see their girlfriend kissing another man? That’s when he has to remind himself:

She’s not my girlfriend.

At least, he doesn’t know if you are or not, since you haven’t said it out of your mouth yet. This is exactly the kind of bothersome bullshit he was so worried about weeks ago when he realized the severity of his feelings for you. He should’ve had the conversation with you earlier to see where your head was at, but he put it off for so long under the excuse of being afraid of scaring you off. He wonders if maybe you think he’s not serious about you enough since he’s never brought it up first. And sure, he knows you both aren’t technically together right now, but you could’ve at least let him know that you’re seeing more people than him, right? It hurts a little more that it’s also his assistant of all people.

He turns onto his side in a huff and buries himself deeper under his blanket. Yunho wishes he hadn’t fallen for you so hard. It’s hard enough to deal with his feelings as things are now, especially with the circumstances, but the introduction of competition might just drive him insane. She’s a grown woman and she’s allowed to do whatever she wants, he reminds himself reluctantly while closing his eyes once more, but again—a heads-up would’ve been nice. He doesn’t even know how to approach this situation moving forward. How is he supposed to look you in the eyes today during class?

The answer is that he doesn’t. 

If he can help it, he actively avoids those engaged eyes of yours while he goes on for an hour about pragmatics. He doesn’t even look over at your side of the room. It’s not until the mid-class break that he takes multiple swift glances over at you chatting with Yeosang about something that’s got you enthusiastic. That smile on your face while excitement physically pours out of you makes his eyes soften. He wonders if you’re discussing graduation, as it is coming up in some weeks now. Then, he remembers that he wanted to take you away or do something relaxing to celebrate since you seemed to not have existing plans. Would that sway you back over to his side, if he planned something nice and spoiled the surprise early? Before he can even finish that train of thought, he finds himself finally meeting your eyes while you briefly let yours wander around in the middle of a sentence. The sneaky flirtatious wink you send his way makes him clear his throat bashfully and adjust his tie.

Yunho spends the remainder of class discussing the final paper and offering to read any final drafts that people would like feedback on, as long as they’re submitted by a specific date. He knows he’s probably shooting himself in the foot by putting that kind of work on his plate so close to the deadline, but he genuinely wants people to do well on his final and he knows there are quite a few seniors in this particular class section. The least he can do is make sure those of you end your college careers with a satisfactory grade to finish off your transcripts. He did very well with his midterm evaluations as well, so he wants to do the same for his finals. 

When class ends, Yunho finally takes notice of how Wooyoung has been leaving as early as everyone else lately. He could’ve sworn Wooyoung used to stick around to ask him questions, and often times he even departed after Yunho had already departed. He also notices that you are nowhere to be found now even though Yeosang is still present, seemingly already having fled the room for one reason or another. He doesn’t want to think about if he’s been so oblivious to these kinds of things up until this point, but the thought of you and Wooyoung rushing to meet up after his classes sticks with him for the rest of the day.

Yunho can admit he’s a bit toxic sometimes. 

It happens in moments of weakness where he lets his selfishness outweigh anything else. He reasons to himself that this isn’t one of those situations as he stands in front of your apartment door late into the evening of that same day. He had called you and asked if he could come see you at your place, which rarely happens. While it caught you by surprise, and you were in the midst of work, you were still as welcoming as ever. He knows you’d never say no. He’d never admit it aloud, but he’s not solely here just to see you—he’s here to be a bit nosy. 

It’s freezing outside, so when you finally open the door he’s scrambling to get inside.

“That was fast,” you marvel. 

When you wrap your arms around him and pull him into a hug, your shivers and giggles are like white noise in his ears as his eyes sweep the room. He doesn’t notice anything out of place, nothing that would make it seem like anybody other than you had been present here anytime soon anyway. His cold hands slide up the slope of your back to cup the sides of your face, and he offers you a sweet closed-mouth smile before briefly pressing his lips to yours in greeting.

“Yeah, traffic was pretty non-existent,” he hums.

“I made soup since it’s so frosty,” you glance towards the kitchen as your hands go to unzip his jacket for him, “Are you hungry?”

“If you’re cooking, always.”

Tonight, Yunho takes things slow. 

From graciously eating your cooking to cuddling on your couch, he builds up the intimacy minute by minute. It’s something he’s been craving from you lately, that feeling of intimacy and domestication. He’s more than willing to indulge you when grow aroused by something as innocent as him mindlessly drawing shapes on your thighs with his fingers, slowly shifting them inside your pajama shorts when you whisper, “I want you to touch me.”

“I’m already touching you, baby.”

You push his hand just a smidge lower, whining, “You know what I mean.”

When things finally move to the bedroom, Yunho fucks you nice and slow, and it feels much more intimate than any of your previous times together. Slow, steady rolls of his hips into yours like he’s intent on showing you every ounce of love he holds for you in his body if he’s unable to say it outright himself. Nothing inherently strikes you as odd about the way his demeanor is different tonight. In fact, this kind of pure intimacy is something you’d been curious to experience from him. It almost makes you feel like you’re officially together. Sure, sex is naturally intimate, but this? This feels different. 

His hands go from holding yours beside your head so affectionately to passionately gripping and kneading the plush skin of your sides and thighs like they’re fresh dough. It’s like he’s trying to solidify that this is reality, that you’re truly here in his hands and not someone else's. Grip strong enough to dig deep into the tissue and make you moan, but gentle enough not to leave bruising marks. Truth be told, he’d rather leave marks of where he’s been in less covert places. That’s why his mouth subconsciously finds its way to your neck before you feel the gentle drag of his teeth on your skin. It’s too quick to even be considered a warning.

“Yu, wait–”

You begin to tell him he can’t leave hickeys in such open places, but Yunho quiets you by sucking your skin anyway. The first one is on the tender skin just under your jaw, right where he can feel the pulse of how fast your heart is beating with his tongue. The desperate whine you let out when he finally lets up with a quiet pop! of his lips off your skin encourages him to put another on the column of your throat. You’ll probably throw a fit later when you see how bad these are and complain about the trouble of covering them up, but he really couldn’t care less. 

When he finishes off the second hickey, he kisses his way up to your lips so sweetly as if he didn’t do something so obviously possessive. As if he didnt do something so mischievous which’ll draw questions from your friends and get you flustered trying to explain. These marks are warnings as much as they are bites of love. You throw your arms around his neck and arch your back, itching for more than what he’s offering. It doesn’t matter that it still feels euphoric, those long drags of his cock against your walls just to fill you up again—it’s too slow. The breathy laugh he lets out against your lips draws a pout from your own. 

“What’s wrong pretty girl, don’t I make you feel good?” Yunho asks in a whisper, deep chocolate eyes holding your gaze while he continues to roll his hips at his leisure. He doesn’t like that he needs a bit of reassurance right now, but he wants to hear it so badly. When you nod with fervor, it’s just not good enough for him, “Tell me, angel. Tell me how good I make you feel.”

“You’re everything I crave, Yu,” you oblige him breathlessly, hands scratching at the sensitive nape of his neck while you arch again. For the first time this evening, Yunho’s hips falter in their steady rhythm. He’s quite caught off guard by your choice of words; it’s as if you know exactly what he needs to hear more than he does himself. “Nobody could ever make me feel like you do.”

“Yeah? This pretty pussy needs me, huh?”

There’s that word that he now loves so much: need.

“More than you know,” you gasp when he pushes his hips into yours as deep as he can manage, obscenities bubbling from within your chest.

Even though you both have had sex many times since this all began, this part still feels fresh. The way he manages to reach new depths inside of you and stretch you out to his heart’s content feels fresh every single time. Yunho’s thrusts begin picking up some speed finally and whines claw at his throat.

“My sweet, needy baby… You’re the only one who gets this, ____,” he admits, voice trembly while he drags his lips against the sensitive skin of your jaw, kissing his previous artwork, “It’s all yours, okay?”

In a perfect world, he’d love to hear you say the same back to him, but he’s snapping his hips too roughly now to allow for words. The way you begin begging for him to give you more of himself makes up for it. Bitten-off moans tumble from your lips as the coil in your stomach grows tighter and tighter, and it makes his cock throb and ache for release. The way you’re chanting his name has his eyes fluttering up in bliss. There’s no doubt in his mind that you want him, mentally and carnally, but the real question is if he’s not enough to satisfy that want. Yunho doesn’t have time to let his mind wander off into that kind of insecure territory. His brain becomes fuzzy as he becomes eager to feel you cum stuffed full of his cock, and then see his own paint your sweaty skin. Those familiar heavy pants he lets out against your lips make you simper.

“Getting close?”

“So close,” he nods, hissing when he feels you clench at his answer, “H-hah, oh fuck.”

“Wanna cum inside?” You offer this so shyly against his lips that he nearly doesn’t hear you talking altogether. When he offers you an absentminded ‘huh’ in response, you giggle and move to speak directly in his ear, “Want you to cum inside.”

Something behind Yunho’s eyes changes when you pull back—those blown-out pupils of his with little hearts swimming in them zero in on yours with a look you can’t quite put your tongue on. You cross your ankles behind his back to emphasize your words, to show him you’re serious.

“Really want me to fill you up, pretty?” he rasps. When you bite your bottom lip and nod, he offers you a lopsided grin, “Use those fingers and catch up, then.”

You don’t need to be told twice, one hand moving from being around his neck down to your clit to rub quick circles that’ll push you over the edge together. He’s never cum in you ever since you both started having sex, but he’s feeling overwhelmingly possessive today and it might just subside if he sees his cum leaking from your cunt onto your sheets. It’s now the only thought screaming at him in that fucked-out head of his. Your mouths connecting in a messy, sensuous kiss is the final push he needs.

Yunho’s fingers wind deep into your sheets with as much strength as he can muster while he buries himself inside you, pelvis to pelvis, pushing you deeper into your mattress. The throb of his cock and the broken moan he lets out while he finally cums trigger your own orgasm. The moment you lock your legs around him to keep him in place, your walls flutter and squeeze his cock to help milk him dry. He makes a note somewhere in the lusty haze of his mind that he just has to get you both to cum at the same time like this again at another point in time because the way you’re practically squeezing every last drop from him while you fall apart is nearly making him whimper repentance for how sinful it feels. When your legs let up on their grip, he gives you a few shallow thrusts before finally pulling out. Focusing on catching your breath is hard when he’s gazing so heavily at the mess he’s made of you. 

“Don’t stare...” Yunho doesn’t even realize he’s been fascinated with watching the way his seed spills from your heat until you poorly block it with a self-conscious hand. Only then does he finally look up and find you flustered, the pout on your face growing more prominent by the second, “It’s embarrassing...”

“God, you’re so fine,” he coos. The jolt your body produces when he takes his fingers and pushes what’s been wasted back into your sensitive hole makes him laugh. “Even prettier like this too. Let’s get you cleaned up, pretty baby.”

Yunho hadn’t originally planned on sleeping over—it is a weekday after all, and he has work tomorrow morning. After showering, though, his willpower is tested. He loses nearly all his self-discipline to leave like a responsible man when you use this irresistible voice the moment he steps foot back into the room, humming honeyed words while holding his briefs behind your back to keep him from getting dressed.

“Can’t you just wake up early to swing by your house and get ready?” You eventually pout up at him when he looks as if he might change his mind. With the way your gaze is focused on his attentive eyes, you can’t see the way his cock is already twitching back to life again at your pleading eyes, the same ones you use on your knees between his thighs. He’s so thankful for that. “This is why I said you should leave some outfits over here just in case.”

“I know, I know. I should listen to you more. Can I please have my underwear back now?”

“Are you gonna stay? Please?”

He chuckles before finally conceding, “I can’t say no when you ask me so nicely, can I?” 

You nearly fall apart at the way he pulls your face up by your cheeks with firm fingers before planting a kiss of surrender on your lips. Yunho doesn’t even remember why he’s over your house anymore, now only focused on getting his underwear back from your hands before you can see him getting hard all over again. He has enough sense to know that a second round will surely be much longer than the previous one, and you both need to sleep soon if he wants to wake up early enough. Lucky for him, you’re much too tired from a full day to stay up too much longer anyway.

It’s 8 AM when Yunho’s phone starts chiming with an annoying tone he set specifically to force his awakening. That grating sound is also your punishment for persuading him to spend the night. He’s slow to turn it off specifically for that reason, and a lazy smile stretches across his face when he hears you groan. Success.

“You’re so annoying,” you murmur. You instinctively search for your phone on your nightstand to glance at how early your lover has you suffering, then slowly slide yourself out of bed to go blindly search for a bottle of water. 

Yunho screws his eyes shut and open a few times to regain his vision before flipping over and patiently awaiting your arrival. He gave himself a fairly decent buffer on the off chance you decide to stay awake and eat breakfast with him. At least, that was the plan until something happened that immediately changed his brain chemistry. Yunho’s eyes swivel towards your phone when it vibrates a couple of times on the nightstand. It really wouldn’t have been a problem had he not seen and recognized the name on the screen. Against his better judgment, he picks it up gently. He sees two older notifications from the prior night and the two new ones now piquing his interest. 

[Wooyoung: Don’t forget lunch tomorrow]

[Wooyoung: Usual place]

...

[Wooyoung: Good morning]

[Wooyoung: If you get on campus by 10 let's do breakfast instead, they’ll be there. lmk]

His eyes constrict to slits almost instantaneously. 

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me… 

He doesn’t care that it's petty, he swipes each of the message notifications and deletes them with a pool of satisfaction boiling in the deepest pit of his stomach. You were too busy with him last night to notice his other messages anyway. If he could delete those messages permanently, he would. Realistically, there was no way he could keep you from eventually meeting up again with Wooyoung, but maybe distracting you enough to be late could be worth being a bit late to his own obligations. He’s extra needy on purpose this morning, immediately seeking out your attention the moment you groggily slip back into bed after chugging water. Feeling his warm hands grope your butt just makes you groan in that special kind of annoyance that naturally comes with waking earlier than need-be. When his fingers travel to fiddle with the elastic of your panties, an indirect request of sorts, you muster enough energy to nudge him weakly.

“S’too early, Yu,” you pout without even opening your eyes and bury your cheek deeper into your pillow.

“I know, I know. I have to leave soon,” he acknowledges. Still, his hand dances its way into the fabric. He watches you shudder when his middle finger pushes against your clit experimentally. His brow lifts when you open your legs. He licks his lips eagerly before murmuring, “You don’t even have to do anything, I’ll take good care of you. Go ahead and rest, okay?”

The hum you let out, signaling him to do as he pleases, has him gently working your panties down your legs and tossing them on the floor. He spends all the time he can, all the way until the last few minutes before he has to leave, with his face buried between your tired thighs. Always a starved man when it comes to your greedy cunt, the one that he confirmed last night needs him oh so much, he french-kisses his way into a sore tongue and a stiff jaw. 

“Mhm, that’s it,” he talks directly to your heat, holding open your lips with his thumbs while watching the way slick, cum, and spit seep out to sully your sheets, “Gimme another one.”

Sleepy whines and garbled whimpers of his name have him rutting his hips against your bed. He would touch himself if he could, but his hands are too busy massaging your tense thighs in rhythm with his aching tongue lapping at your clit. The friction isn’t enough. He supposes his poor underwear will just have to suffer from precum leaking out his deprived cock, drenching the fabric the more he gets aroused. Each orgasm he’s able to pull from you drains your body of its energy more and more until you’re a meek puddle of fatigue splayed out on your mattress.

Yunho doesn’t remember what number orgasm his mouth finally parts from your core, but at some point, he finally reminds himself that he’s a man with responsibilities who still has to go home and change into his work clothes. He also needs to take care of this painful hard-on quickly when he gets somewhere private. Self-admittedly, this all was as rewarding to himself in fulfilling it as it was to you receiving. Seeing you absolutely spent and on the verge of (hopefully) deep sleep puts a shameless smile on his face. 

He’s still a gentleman above anything else, taking the extra time to clean your skin and the mess he’s made of your cunt with a wet cloth before lovingly redressing you in your undies. He doesn’t even know if you can hear him after a certain point, but he still tucks you back in and whispers sweet nothings that he’ll overthink about later when he’s in his office after remembering why he was here in the first place. He even apologizes for ruining your sheets, again. The timid, fleeting kiss he leaves on your temple is followed by him carelessly saying, “Love you.”

The moment those two words tumble from his lips his eyes grow wide, and he waits with bated breath to see if you are even the slightest bit awake to hear his blunder. When you show no signs of stirring, Yunho releases all air caged within his chest and decides it’s best to leave quickly before he can make a fool of himself any further. You don’t hear from him for the rest of the day.

-

“I see… so she does exist,” you mutter sarcastically.

At the end of the week, following your shared linguistics lecture, you and your best friend convene at a table deep in the back of the library. Yeosang had spent a good amount of his time in the last few days covertly asking questions about Wooyoung to random acquaintances in hopes of getting bits of useful information about him or his ex. He was finally able to give you her name and class year, but he came up short otherwise.

“I wasn’t able to get any of her socials, I didn’t want to seem like I was pursuing her. However, I do have another idea,” he says, hands motioning for you to hear him out after he sees your spirits drop, “I was told she’s in Hongjoong’s capstone class and–”

“Oh brother,” you groan and sink further into your seat. 

If Yeosang’s words days ago were anything to go by, Hongjoong was already convinced you were dating Wooyoung, so asking him for his ex-girlfriend’s number is surely just going to cause prying questions. You’re fully convinced that he probably won’t even consider giving it to you because he might think it’ll lead to drama. 

“I know. Just hear me out,” Yeosang leans forward and lowers his voice, “I honestly don’t think it would be hard to get him to tell you. If you can come up with a plausible reason why you would need to reach out, I think he wouldn’t hesitate too much.”

“Which would be?”

“Well, I don’t know anything about her other than that she’s in a sorority. You can figure something out from that, right?”

You couldn’t deny that this was definitely a useful piece of information. Yeosang watches you purse your lips while you toss around some of the logistics in your head before nodding with some renewed optimism.

“Which app do you think I should start on?”

“I’m sure the majority of our sororities have IG pages to promote their activities. That’s probably your best bet,” he recommends, “I can help you search in between finals prep–”

“You’ve done enough, I can definitely handle that part,” you interject with a reassuring smile, “Thank you for even getting this info. I appreciate it, Yeo.”

While things definitely looked more positive from this conversation, there was an odd feeling lingering in your stomach over the next few days. From his time at your home through the weekend, Yunho’s communication and presence were lacking a bit more than usual. While it made things easier for you to see Wooyoung when requested without fear, it didn’t make things any less disappointing. Knowing he’s still there for you even through all of this mess was the only thing keeping you afloat, so it’s troubling when that disappears out of nowhere. Nevertheless, the end of the semester was creeping up faster than even you realized, so it makes sense that his schedule is being affected. Moreover, his job is what you’re doing this all for anyway, right? Even without his presence, you’d silently root for him in the shadows if it meant that December ended with you both together. 

In the meantime, you push these feelings to the back of your mind and give yourself a break from being so worrisome. With this charade moving deeper into its timeline, it’s time-sensitive and imperative to ask for his ex’s phone number from Hongjoong in an effort to contact her. Wooyoung might be intent on keeping you from meeting her, but he’s severely underestimated the fire in your belly when it comes to getting what you want. You’ve played along with his shenanigans long enough.

Hongjoong’s brows furrow while he shoves a few of the fries in his mouth from a meal you asked to treat him to this particular Monday afternoon.

“I should’ve known you wanted to see me for ulterior motives,” he takes a swigger of his soda with pursed lips, “Buttering me up with free food for my connections, huh?”

“I didn’t remember until just now, I promise,” you lie, trying to remain composed. You’re not exactly the best at lying to your close friends and this time is no different. “If I knew about anyone else having her number I would’ve asked them. I wouldn’t lie to you, Joong.”

His eyes examine your body language keenly before scoffing, “I’m still caught up on how you didn’t tell me that your mystery man was Wooyoung all this time. That was a lie by omission.”

“I am not dating Wooyoung, I already told you this.”

“Then why do you suddenly want his ex’s number?”

You swallow the nervous lump in your throat and offer him an easygoing smile that you had practiced a plethora of times before even leaving to meet him.

“I’m reaching out on behalf of a mutual friend about possibly being commissioned to make the graduation stoles for their sorority. That’s all.”

Yes, through hours of snooping and finally finding her Instagram, you discovered that she is a die-hard sorority girl for one of the smaller sororities on your campus. You had almost talked yourself into simply contacting her there, but as luck would have it, her messages were turned off for strangers that she doesn’t follow back. There was no doubt in your mind that she would never follow you back if you tried that route.

“You sure you’re not trying to stir the pot?” Hongjoong inquires playfully, eyeing you with an elvish grin. You groan in annoyance. “I’m all for a little mess sometimes, but I don’t like being the gateway.”

“Come on Joong, it’s nothing like that at all. I didn’t think you would be so difficult to ask about this… You’re supposed to be my rock—”

Your heart is threatening to break out of your chest when he holds up his free hand to quiet you with a roll of his eyes. Then, with his other hand, he finally scrolls through his phone to find said information.

“I’ve heard enough, please stop being so dramatic,” he sighs. His thumb stops swiping as soon as he sees what he’s looking for in his class’ group chat, and he hands you the phone reluctantly. “Under no circumstances do you tell her who gave this to you.”

“You know I love you the most, right? Even more than Yeosang!” You smile and he matches it sarcastically.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you liar. I love you too.”

While Yunho’s impromptu visit might have subdued his anxiety briefly, he knew it wouldn’t be a permanent fix. He spent some time away from you under the excuse of helping other people prepare more for the final paper deadline approaching, but that only made things worse. The longing he feels these days is stronger when he realizes you could be spending the valuable time he’s avoiding you by seeing Wooyoung instead. It’s embarrassing really, being so envious of someone younger than him. He shouldn’t be letting some university student get under his skin so easily, but there’s too much he’s given of himself to you to just be calm and collected about things. 

These things swirl about in his head while he’s seated alone at the bar’s counter, patiently waiting for his friends to finish playing Rock, Paper, Scissors to decide who pays the tab tonight. It was fairly evident that it had been a rough start to the month for Yunho from his mood, so his best friends were intent on treating him tonight. Today and the next were the university-designated study days for finals. Seonghwa personally coaxed him out of hiding by stopping by his home and offering to drive. He knows Yunho has a hard time saying no when confronted directly. As karma would have it, it was looking to be an expensive night for Seonghwa unfortunately, marked by the heavy groan Yunho can hear come from behind him when the two finish.

When he finally joins Yunho at the counter, he searches through his wallet for his credit card while asking, “Which beer do you want?” 

“I need something stronger tonight,” Yunho states before flagging the bartender down himself.

Nowadays, he’s more favorable to something light and bubbly like beer because it’s easy on his body and the buzz is manageable over a longer period of time. He can’t remember the last time he drank pure liquor… It had to have been New Year’s Eve or some other holiday that’s usually burdened by alcohol. Yunho’s not remarkably sensitive to liquor and he’s by no means a lightweight, but tonight he’s truly done a number on himself. Three Long Island Iced Teas and a few extra shots of rum have him loose and on stage in front of many eyes doing what he does best: singing. Singing karaoke duets with Seonghwa always makes him feel like a college student again, bringing him back to the days of their music classes.

When the next hour comes around and several more shots enter his system, the second phase of his inebriation hits: heartache and depression. Distractions are wonderful until they’re not, and his throat hurts from doing too much falsetto. He keeps thinking about how he’s supposed to show you this side of himself eventually, serenading you like a cheesy romcom just to hear your pretty giggles telling him that he actually sounds like an angel, and those thoughts make him sad. On top of that, his social battery is depleted entirely and now all he can think about is going home. Distancing himself for the last several days is finally coming to an end, as you’re the only person he can think of to call since he doesn’t want to ruin his friends’ time by asking Seonghwa to take him back home. While booking an Uber ride would’ve been the smarter idea, Yunho’s too lovesick to pass up on a moment to hear your voice right now.

So, while Seonghwa is busy using the bathroom and San is distracted by an attractive woman who’s gone out of her way to challenge him to a game of pool, his hazy eyes manage to find your contact card in his favorites before calling you. You take a bit longer to answer than usual, but the moment he hears that familiarly sweet ‘hello there, handsome~’ come across his speaker, he physically melts into a heap on the counter. You can overhear the loud music coming through the speaker clear as day and figure he must be at the bar tonight with other teachers since they’re all essentially off tomorrow. Calling you of all people while with his friends is risky, but you understand why he’s being so reckless the moment he opens his mouth.

“I need to see you, please,” Yunho drawls, his free palm pressed to his forehead to ground himself, “Drank too much, wanna go home.”

“Where are you, Yu?”

Yunho’s heart feels like it’s ready to take flight at the way you ask this with no hesitation and how he can hear you already shuffling to grab clothes. Maybe your feelings are as strong as his afterall.

“At that dumb bar near campus. Hwa drove me,” he sighs, and you can practically hear the drunken pout stuck on his lips. “I’ll just send my location… Can you come, baby? Please?”

“Of course, I’ll come take you home. Sit tight, I’m leaving now.”

When you do finally arrive, Yunho lets his friends know that he ordered an Uber to go home, and successfully convinces Seonghwa not to walk with him outside even though his steps feel leadened. 

“Go back to karaoke,” he waves him off with an anxious smile, “I’ll let y’know when I get home.”

Parking so close to the entrance might’ve been a bit daring on your part, but you expected Yunho to have some trouble walking too far with too much distance. To offset the risk, you’re donning a black face mask with the hood of your jacket pulled over your head, and you figure that should conceal any particulars about you enough for any lurking eyes. Yunho’s surely more operational than he sounded over the phone, and even though his feet are slow on his way over, he slides in easily enough and even buckles himself in. From there, you focus on leaving the area before either of his friends gets curious enough to look outside.

The drive is comfortably silent. You keep the music low and drive a bit slower than usual to make sure he doesn’t feel too dizzy during the trip. Yes, you care for the man dearly, but the last thing you need is his vomit in your passenger seat. With his head resting idly on the cool glass of your window, he tries to relax his mind and settle the stuttering of his heart. He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous to be around you right now.

“Overdid it tonight, huh?” You ask him after a while to make sure he’s still conscious. 

“I don’t ever drink this much,” he replies with his eyes still closed, “M’so sorry for bothering you so late.”

“You didn’t bother me at all. Go ahead and relax, we’re almost home.”

His call was perfect timing actually, as you were just wrapping up exam prep for the day. Usually, you don’t take study days seriously, but with this being your last semester you figure giving your all includes taking advantage of the academic liberties that are offered by your university in exchange for not having to go to class. He was on your mind tonight as he always is, and even though the moment is unconventional, you appreciate him finally calling you at all. That’s all you can think about for the remainder of the drive to his home.

This is so embarrassing, he mopes internally. Yunho feels extremely vulnerable with every lug of his feet up his steps to his door. He’s not sure he ever wanted you to see him in such a state either—liquored up and liable to say anything lingering in his chest without inhibition—but it’s too late to worry about those things now. 

“Thank you for coming,” Yunho sighs upon entering his abode, shrugging off his coat and kicking his shoes off to a place he probably won’t remember tomorrow. 

His throat is dry and itching for something else, anything other than liquor. You know better than anyone that he needs to be drinking water right now and flushing his system as well. Closing his front door, you follow suit with your shoes and jacket.

“You don’t have to thank me, sweetheart,” you assure him with a smile, “I’ll go get you some water.”

However, before you can slip past him, Yunho’s warm hands gently clasp around your cheeks. Your back hits the door as his sticky liquored lips squish against yours in an affectionate kiss. Much to his dismay, after only a few seconds of gratification you manage to pull back enough to talk.

“Water first, kissing later. Okay?” You chide with a giggle. 

Yunho makes a whiny noise in the back of his throat in place of a ‘no’ before stealing your lips once more. This time, his arms fall to wrap around your torso. There’s something desperate about the way his arms squeeze the air out of you as if he loosens them even in the slightest bit you might slip right from his grasp. That’s how he’s felt for some time recently like you’re slipping away right into someone else’s arms. Somewhere deep down in his intoxicated subconscious, he’s able to acknowledge the feeling of his heart slamming against his chest from pent-up anxiety of seeing you again, touching you again… and maybe lack of oxygen. Yeah, perhaps that’s what this intense feeling is building in his chest is, a blatant lack of oxygen. Breathing is just not something present in Yunho’s impaired mind. 

You, you, you, you, you!

All he wants to do is think about how he loves you more than you know.

He feels like he’s suffocating, but his brain won’t let his limbs move to breathe, lost in the thoughts and desperation of just needing to be connected to you. Just then, when he feels like he’s about to nearly pass out, you find the strength within yourself to push him from you hastily. The way you gasp for air lets him know that he was inadvertently suffocating you as well. His arms finally release their intense grip and a flurry of apologies tumble from his lips.

“M’so sorry,” he offers one last time, words running together, “I just missed you so much.”

Yunho’s head falls and rests in the crook of your neck while embarrassment floods his cheeks. 

“It’s okay, really. I missed you too,” you tell him, lungs settling while you card your fingers through his hair soothingly. He’s so fragile at this moment and seeing this side of him makes your heart melt. You could never be mad at something like a little stolen oxygen. “Let’s get you settled in first though, okay?”

“Please le’me stay like this for a couple minutes…”

He’s a bit dizzy, and your fingers lovingly massaging his scalp are making his heart feel ready to burst out of his chest. It doesn’t matter that he’s older than you, or that technically he’s an authoritative figure in your life. You’re always so soft with him, so attentive to his needs, and tender in your touch. You even came and picked him up while he was a mess, with no hesitation. For some reason, in Yunho’s inebriated mind, he’s so sure that a positive answer to this next question will finally solidify your loyalty and how you truly feel about him. 

“Can you stay with me tonight?”

There’s a moment of silence where you’re unusually still, and Yunho can practically hear your answer before you even open your mouth. Mentally, you’re battling with yourself because of premade morning plans with Wooyoung interfering with his request. Normally, you’d never decline to spend some extra time with him, but you’re not sure if blowing off Wooyoung last minute will have some consequences. Yunho’s the most important thing to you, but which choice proves that the most? 

“I have some important obligations in the morning, Yu,” you mumble a moment later, unable to outright say no. It’s hard, but you figure the best way to show him his importance to you is to put his career first, ahead of your feelings. 

In the crook of your neck you can feel him inhale, and for a second, he’s so still that you could’ve believed that he’d passed out. You’re just about to call his name when you feel him begin to tremble and snivel, and alarm bells begin blaring in your head. Lifting his head with your hands gently, you gaze up at him in panic.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” You comfort him softly, thumbs on either side of his face wiping away fat tears that begin spilling down his rosy cheeks. “I’ll stay, I will. I’m so sorry baby.”

“I can’t do this anymore, ____.”

You’re no longer worried about the warm tears spilling onto your fingers as you are the immediate tightness in your chest at such simple words. Simple, but hurtful. The last time you heard that kind of sentence, it was followed by a breakup. The pang in your chest at the realization that this is what’s probably happening makes you feel sick. Nevertheless, you wouldn’t blame him if your behavior over the last few weeks ended up being the final straw for him, and if leaving him alone drunk was the cherry on top. Your diminished communication and sudden lack of availability with obligations you could not explain… and who knows what he’s heard about your increasing closeness with his TA, if anything. You ponder if maybe that’s why he has been acting differently recently, how perhaps the rumors had finally gotten back to him. It’s hard to meet his eyes while you try to prepare yourself for words you figured you hear eventually but still never built your confidence up enough for.

“Look at me, please,” he requests. It takes a moment, but you find it in yourself to do as asked. The way Yunho’s glazed-over eyes only hold dejection when you meet them lets you know something is seriously wrong. You’ve hurt him, you just know it. You’re not sure what to expect, but it surely isn’t him following up with, “I love you so much, it’s beginning to hurt, ____.”

Yunho didn’t expect this genuine divulgence that he had finally found within himself to reveal to be met with annoyance of all things. The way your brows crease and the corners of your mouth downturn throw him for a loop.

“I know you’re drunk but you really shouldn’t say a serious word like that so easily,” you chastise him in a soft voice. 

The gentleness of your tone doesn’t change the fact that you mean that statement wholeheartedly; he’s never used that word with you when sober, so why now? You don’t want to be made a fool of when these drunken words get taken back when he’s in his right mind tomorrow. Being drunk doesn’t excuse playing around with your feelings like that.

“I mean it. I do love you, so much. Not gonna pretend to be so casual about things anymore,” he retorts. While his voice still has that intoxicated twang in it, it’s now alarmingly firm.

That sudden tone and the way his face remains determined to make you understand him make your heart stutter. In the context of romance, ‘love’ is a word you haven’t heard from someone in a long time. To be fair, it’s a word you haven’t offered to anyone you’ve dated in a long time either. How long has it been since you met someone worthy of a word that powerful… You’re at a loss for words. The increasing tightness in your chest with the more you take in the situation won’t let up, and you wonder if he can feel your anxiety through the trembling of your hands still caressing his wet cheeks. 

Yunho doesn’t mind that you don’t say it back, he may be intoxicated but he still knows he’s coming on very strong right now. Instead, he adds, “You don’t have to say it back, but I can’t handle not knowing what I am to you anymore. I can’t tell how you really see me.”

The way your face immediately only offers confusion at that final statement is involuntary—his complete obliviousness to how you feel about him, about everything you’ve done till this point, is just baffling. Despite any impending consequences of being involved with your teacher, you’ve given this man so much of your time, your adoration, your body—what is there to question? When you finally take your hands back and place them on your temples, Yunho senses your frustration. He begins to feel bad when he realizes too much liquid courage may have made him go a bit too far.

“Yunho, I thought it was pretty obvious that I want to be with you. I’m just waiting for graduation to say it officially,” you explain. “I– We’ve been dating for 3 months, for Christ’s sake.”

You try to remind yourself that he’s intoxicated and that maybe you should treat this situation with a bit more grace. The next question he throws out completely shatters that mindset.

“Then why did you kiss him?”

The immediate mortification you feel at that string of words hits you like a sledgehammer, and the silence that consumes the room following this question is deafening. Yunho’s eyes hold your shameful stare before you finally become physically uncomfortable, and you avert your gaze sheepishly. Yes, you had considered he might catch you in the act sooner or later, but did it have to be the stupid unwanted kiss of all things? This is not something you had readied yourself enough to be confronted about. It’s something you wish you could’ve taken to the grave if possible.

The lack of an immediate reply to such a simple question has him pressing his palms to his eyes because he feels himself needing to cry again. He’d do anything to turn off those leaky faucets behind his eyes for good right now if he could. Crying over someone he had no business falling for in the first place is exasperating because he knew better. He’s sure he’d be able to compose himself more than this if he wasn’t so drunk as well, but it’s too late for those kinds of thoughts now. Everything is out in the open, all the way down to the intensity of his feelings for you, and there’s no turning back.

“It’s not what you think, Yunho,” you finally offer after taking some seconds to sort out your thoughts. The thing is, there is no other viable option at this point: it’s either tell him the truth or lie and break his heart further. You would never consider doing the latter. “I want to explain, but this isn’t the best time—”

“You can be honest, I promise I can handle it,” Yunho interjects. He runs his hands through his messy hair, trying to mellow himself out and prove that statement, but his insecurities start to get the best of him. Words begin spilling out of his mouth without much thought, “Is it because we can’t go out like normal couples? Am I not giving you enough attention? I know it’s tough right now but—”

“No, no, of course not! None of that matters to me in the slightest.” 

“What is it about him, then? If it’s something I can fix or do better, I will. I promise,” he tells you earnestly, but his face already looks defeated. He still can’t even say his name. Seeing him so distraught and broken like this over your actions is like a stiff punch in the gut. The last thing you ever wanted to do was make Yunho feel like he’s not enough.

Instead of answering, you ask him, “Do you trust me?” 

As much as he should be inclined to say no with everything he’s seen, or the way you won’t give him straight answers, he just can’t say no.

“Of course I do.”

“Then I’d really love for us to have this conversation in the morning when you’re sober,” you insist, hands seeking out his for comfort and reassurance, “Please, Yunho.”

“And what happens if I wake up alone again?”

There it is. The hint of pessimism screaming at him in the back of his mind slipped through. He remembers the last time you left with no word and how it sent him irrationally spiraling. He just needs that final bit of reassurance.

“I’d never do that to you again, okay? I love you too much to hurt you like that. I promise.”

Yunho's left mute at this reply, damp lashes blinking repeatedly as his brain struggles to compute that you just said three very pivotal words he’s never heard from anyone else he’s ever dated. After not immediately reciprocating his sentiments earlier, he didn’t really ever expect them to come from your mouth anytime soon. 

“You…love–”

It happens way too fast, the wave of nausea that consumes him with how overwhelmed he begins to feel. Pulling his fingers away from yours, he clasps a clammy hand over his mouth and stumbles off toward his hallway bathroom in haste. This, of course, is not the ideal response you’d like to get back after fully confessing your feelings to a man. You try not to take it to heart and finally go to grab some water for him while he’s emptying his stomach in the bathroom.

The night comes to a close not too long later with you both burrowed in the blankets of Yunho’s bed, and he falls asleep against your chest faster than your brain will allow you to join. How lucky he is to have alcohol easily lull him to sleep after such a mess, you muse. You suppose this is as good of a time as ever to sort your thoughts and words for your explanation tomorrow. That and the possible consequences following you finally revealing the truth. While Yunho might seem mild-mannered and easygoing on a day-to-day basis, you are now aware of just how sensitive he is as a person inside. He feels with his whole heart, and he keeps certain things locked inside of him. You want him to feel comfortable enough to share those things with you as a partner. You want him to trust you wholly with his entire heart, but you suppose that begins with being entirely honest with him first. He’s more than enough, and you want him to believe that. Before you can let your mind wander too deep into the territory of that subject, your eyes finally feel unbearably heavy, and you fall asleep with your fingers curled around his own a little more securely than usual.

One thing Yunho prides himself in is not being prone to heavy hangovers, and this morning is no different. From his first couple years in college, he had learned that lots of water, sleeping in, and a good meal was the cheat code to his body’s ability to survive a night of binge drinking. This was partially thanks to his first roommate who was a Nutrition Major, because if he couldn’t discourage him from drinking he could at least aid him in recovering from it. Aside from you forcing him to drink a few water bottles before he could sleep, throwing up the prior night and purging most of it helped a lot as well, of course.

You’re not in bed when he stirs awake, but he can hear miscellaneous noise coming from another part of his home and smell the third element of his cheat code in progress. When he finally ambles out of his room and into his kitchen after chugging the bottle of water left on his nightstand, he finds you cooking something with what little groceries he has stocked in his fridge. The sound of him pulling out a chair at his table tears your attention away from the stove.

“Good morning,” you hum. He seems fully coherent, which makes things much easier on you. “How’s your stomach?”

Yunho rubs his bleary eyes with the back of his hand while yawning, “Much better… What time is it?”

“Around eleven, I think.”

“I thought you had something to do?”

“I canceled,” you tell him, “You’re more important.”

Earlier, while Yunho was still passed out, you found some time to slip away and call Wooyoung to raincheck. You’re not entirely sure if he believed the performance you put on about coming down with something last minute, but it didn’t matter. The least he can do is give you a day off of this charade. You move the food you’ve been working on off of the stove’s eye and turn off the heat before snatching up his mug of coffee and joining him at the table. 

You look different this morning, the way your eyes lack any of their usual whimsy or humor, and how you sit yourself to his left with body language more reserved than normal. Your stress is palpable, and that doesn’t help settle the sad feeling beginning to manifest in his stomach when he realizes the conversation that’s about to begin. Nonetheless, he decides to prepare himself for the worst.

“I promised you an explanation,” you sigh, “So let’s talk.”

Messily relaying this story to Yeosang first helped you a lot with finding the confidence to make things more concise if a moment like this were ever to happen. You were able to tell Yunho the full extent of Wooyoung’s actions without getting as emotional as the last time. Even though you were trying to be truthful, you ultimately decided not to tell him about trying to connect with Wooyoung’s ex behind the scenes, as you didn’t want to give him any false hope if things happened to fall through. When you finish spilling anything left lingering in your guts about the entire situation, there’s an unbearable silence that settles over the whole room. Yunho’s eyes are trained on his coffee, finger circling the rim of his mug while he lets his mind run wild. The guilty feeling that washes over you feels heavier and heavier with every passing second of him not replying.

“I’m really sorry,” you finally break the silence with a final apology. “It’s my fault for being so pushy in your office that day. This wouldn’t have happened if I had just taken no for an answer.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, ____,” Yunho tails your sentence quickly. The tension in your chest finally dissolves when he speaks, and hearing his caring voice is really all you can ask for right now. He reaches a gentle hand over the table to cover yours for some well-needed comfort, before offering you a soft, sober smile, “I don’t want you beating yourself up for decisions we made together. I’m a grown man who makes my own choices, don’t forget that.”

When Yunho dares to ask how far Wooyoung has made you go for him physically, you assure him the worst has only been that kiss. 

“I’m not going to pretend like this doesn’t fucking suck,” he groans, brows furrowing at the thought of being so stuck between a rock and a hard place, “I would remove him from class if I could. Seeing his face is going to piss me off even more than before.”

“I understand. The semester ends in a couple of weeks though… I know it might be a lot to ask for from you to deal with, but it won’t be too much longer,” you offer resignedly, though it’s not much of a consolation. Optimism is the only thing you have worth giving him at this point. You’re only optimistic yourself while banking on his ex wanting to meet with you. When he goes from frustratedly rubbing his eyes to running a hand through his hair, you feel the need to add, “I’d understand if you don’t want to deal with that though.” Yunho turns to you, his expression one of sheer incredulity.

“You really believe I would willingly let someone like him end our relationship?” The teasing lilt in his voice is refreshing to hear, even if it is a serious question underneath. He reaches his hand over and holds your chin while assuring you, “You can’t get rid of me that easily, okay?”

“That sounds more like a threat than a promise,” you chuckle.

“Maybe he should take it that way, then.”

For the remainder of the week, Yunho tries to bear through the new knowledge that Wooyoung is somewhere on campus turning you into a puppet for his own gain. It hits harder on the days when he texts you in an effort to check in on things but is met with radio silence. He was made aware that Wooyoung preferred you off of your phone when with him, but goddamn was it annoying. For your sake, he tries to keep these kinds of grievances to himself. He knows he needs to be supportive if he can help it. During this time frame, you also secretly began your effort to contact Wooyoung’s ex-girlfriend. Getting left on read with your first message was to be expected. It took her a full day before she entertained you by replying back, even if it was a little snippy. Regardless, her replying at all was a step in the right direction. She opened the door and you planned to slip your way in as best you could. Between Yeosang asking for updates, his ex contacting you sporadically throughout the days, and Yunho checking in occasionally to make sure his assistant isn’t causing you problems that he’s more than happy to fix, you decide it’s best to keep your phone face down and away from Wooyoung when you’re together this week. Even if you want to keep up with your friends to pass the time, it’s just too risky.

“You haven’t told him anything, correct?” 

Wooyoung asks this out of the blue when you both convene for breakfast on Friday. You find it funny how neither of them can say each other’s name, but you suppose Wooyoung is a bit more cautious these days to keep you from getting an attitude. You’re much too tired to even entertain such a question, but you don’t want to cause any suspicion by choosing not to answer.

You yawn after muttering, “No, why?”

“He looks at me differently these days,” he muses, pushing his fork into the plush of his lips, “It’s giving me bad vibes.”

“He has a lot on his plate with finals that you can’t help him with. I’m sure the stress is overwhelming. Cut him some slack.”

Picturing Yunho trying to give Wooyoung the evil eye when they cross paths everyday has you turning your head away, suppressing a smile to keep from laughing at the end of your sentence.

“You know better than I do,” he acknowledges with a nod and leaves the conversation at that.

Yunho begins losing a bit more of his resolve that same day when he catches Wooyoung rushing to meet you out the door after class, calling out your name right in front of his face. He doesn’t particularly care for the carefree tone of his voice, and he feels like doing something so openly is too cocky for his liking. His fingernails rake at the material of his slacks irritably from behind his podium as he opens his mouth.

“Wooyoung,” Yunho calls out before he can consult his better judgment. 

When his assistant spins to face him, Yunho finds himself at a loss for words. He didn’t really think this part through. His eyes flicker to you, who’s waiting patiently by the door for your puppetmaster to join you, then back to Wooyoung. That’s when he makes the executive decision to steal him away from you for the next hour or so. He deserves that satisfaction at least. 

“I wanted to discuss some things about my schedule regarding final papers next week, and then submitting final grades,” Yunho exhales while clasping his hands together. 

He throws in a free and easy smile to twist the knife because his assistant loses all joy in his face at his words. The brief glance you exchange with your teacher as Wooyoung reluctantly ambles back to his station holds a world of emotions, conveying everything words cannot. The gratification he receives from simply seeing you nod and smile while departing alone for the day gives him everything he needs to complete his day with renewed composure.

Mondays generally suck for Yunho, but this final one of the semester is absolutely atrocious.

Today, he’s had the worst technical difficulties in both of his morning lectures with no valuable help from the University’s IT department. One of his biggest pet peeves is not being taken seriously when he’s working, especially as a younger teacher, and it seems that they put his issues on the back burner all morning since he’s not one of the elderly professors. Regardless, he made things work even through the giggles of some students. It’s his final class before exam week begins, the least he can do is end his spiel of encouragement towards the final paper deadline on a good note.

If things had ended there, then he would’ve had a decent rest of his day. Spilling hot coffee all over his white button-up that he rarely ever even wears puts a permanent grimace on his face for the remainder of the morning. He tries his best to dab it out with water when he gets a free moment during his lunch break, but he’s one hundred percent sure he made the liquid spread much worse. Coupled with him not even being able to put his tie back on properly in an attempt to fashion it in a way that hides the stain, he’s exactly three seconds away from deciding to go home for the rest of the day. 

He decides to work through lunch in his office instead so he can end the day early once he’s finished. At least this way nobody could see how much of a mess he is today. But, after a while of Yunho holing up in his office and hiding from the rest of the world as long as he can manage, his phone vibrates with an unexpected call from San. He presses the answer option reluctantly and puts it on speaker.

Before he can even say hello, San’s voice is already excitedly asking, “You on lunch?”

“Something like that,” he chuckles weakly, and San can hear the clicks of his mouse in the background. When he hears San ‘tsk!’ in disapproval of him working, he sighs, “You know me, work’s never done. Shouldn’t you be teaching a class right now?”

“Bathroom breaks are important for everybody.”

“And you decided to call me during yours why?”

“Listen, I know you told me not to make any unannounced visits to your classroom but,” San pauses to laugh at the foolishness of what he’s about to say. “But, it seems that your student has done this to me today instead. I suppose that means today is fair game, right?”

Yunho’s hands pause their movements as he filters through his mind what exactly his friend might be referring to. When he finally recalls that line from their conversation on the day his friends briefly met you, his face pales. San adds that you seem to be dressed oh-so-pretty today and Yunho’s brows crease, not only in irritation at him talking so liberally about you but in confusion. Yunho’s prolonged silence at what should be insignificant information is duly noted in San’s mind. 

Truth be told, San did not call Yunho just for shits and giggles. A few days ago, during a shared lunch break, Seonghwa had come to him secretly about Yunho’s recent behaviors:

“You can’t be serious Seonghwa,” San laughs wholeheartedly at his friend’s implications. “Yunho is a bit desperate these days, but he’s not that desperate.” 

“You can’t say I’m being delusional.”

“That’s not what I’m saying at all. I’m just saying that it probably isn’t what it seems like.”

Seonghwa rolls his eyes so far back that it almost hurts, “Enlighten me on why he’s being so secretive when I ask then.”

“You asked him about her directly?”

“Not exactly… but I asked him about dating someone,” Seonghwa leans back in his chair and sighs, “He told me nothing. Barely even got a peep about where he met the woman. A Tinder match has got him so quiet? It just doesn’t make sense.”

“And you think it’s his student because of what exactly?”

“I didn’t say anything at the time but I saw a glimpse of his phone a month or so ago,” Seonghwa snaps his fingers while he tries to remember the details, “That night we went to that fancy lounge uptown, remember?”

“And?”

“When he was using the bathroom, he left his phone face up on the couch. I didn’t mean to pay too much attention to it, but it lit up with a text and I recognized the name.”

San pushes the food around in his Tupperware with pursed lips while he tries to rationalize this revelation. Seonghwa does have a point… Why in the world would you have been texting him at 10 PM? San’s a pretty laid-back teacher himself, but none of his students have his personal number. All teachers do things differently though, he knows this. Still…

San lowers his voice to ask, “What did the message say?”

“I didn’t see that part,” his friend continues, the disappointment in his voice making San snicker, “He came back too quickly. I mentioned it in passing though, and he said they text occasionally about her schoolwork.”

Seonghwa uses his fingers to put air quotations around that last word; as if he’d ever believe a student is texting their teacher close to midnight about “schoolwork”. He’s slightly offended that Yunho thinks he’s that much of a fool.

“That’s not that implausible—”

“I’m calling bullshit. She’s at the very least got a crush on him and he’s playing into it,” Seonghwa states plainly. 

San resumes eating his lukewarm leftovers, humming, “I really don’t think he would risk getting fired over hooking up with his student. We barely even see him flirt with people outside of work… Anything beyond that just isn’t him. You know this.”

The conversation didn’t last much longer than that, and San had effectively convinced Seonghwa to simply mind his business at the time. He ponders for a second if he should have a serious talk with Yunho about the repercussions that could come to him if Seonghwa’s speculations were true, as he obviously doesn’t want to see one of his best friends lose their job. San may joke around a lot about these kinds of things, and he’s overly flirtatious with a numerous amount of people that may or may not include younger women, but he knows he’d never cross the line and put his job in jeopardy like that. 

It’s always been complicated. Yunho is an exceptionally loyal person and a hopeless romantic, but very few people get to see that side of him. San has seen plenty of women attempt to pursue him with both good and bad intentions, and Yunho has difficulty deciphering sometimes. That being said, when his friend is head over heels for someone, there is nothing he won’t do. There have been plenty of times when Yunho has done some stupid things because of stupid impulses when it comes to women he falls hard for. Don’t get him started about when he had to talk him out of getting a tattoo just because a girl he fell for told him she preferred “bad boys” when turning him down. He feels with all of his heart, and that’s honestly something San admires about his friend. 

He supposes while he has him on the phone, he should push the boundaries to see how he replies. 

“She’s been outside of my class for nearly half an hour,” San continues in a nonchalant voice, stoking the fire, “I was wondering if I should invite her to join in on the lecture, maybe chat—”

Unfortunately for San, Yunho’s already having a bad enough day, and he doesn’t need his friend joking about trying to pick up his woman. 

“Do not bother her,” Yunho interrupts him in a voice with a steely edge that makes the instruction come out slightly more bitter than he intends it to. He immediately regrets letting that kind of emotion slip through and becomes bashful, quickly sputtering a playful jab at his friend instead, “Getting a girl’s attention without buying her a drink first? That would be an amazing feat from you anyway.”

“Getting a girl’s attention at all recently would be an amazing feat for you too,” San quips back with a laugh, but he makes a mental note of this peculiar reaction. It surely doesn’t help extinguish Seonghwa’s conspiracies planted in his head. “Anyway, my class ends in half an hour, so I’m sure she’s just waiting for a friend to come out.”

At that suggestion, a thought crosses Yunho’s mind that makes his stomach churn. 

“San, tell me something. Do you have a student named Wooyoung Jung in your class?”

“I do indeed, how did you know?”

I’ve got to be losing my mind… 

That’s the only explanation Yunho can come up with as to why he’s speed-walking from his building in the middle of campus to the one that hosts San’s class a handful of minutes away. It’s brisk out, evident by the sharp chill of early December running down his back with every quick stride, but it’s a perfect excuse for why his cheeks are so red. He’s not flustered, he’s just cold… of course.

The moment he spots you rocking back and forth on your feet in front of San’s lecture hall, patiently thumbing away at your phone, his chest aches. You’re dolled up today just like San alluded to, wearing a pretty dress that he’s never even seen you in before. Coupled with some makeup and your hair done charmingly, he gets flashbacks to when you both went on your very first dinner together. This doesn’t fare well with Yunho’s mood.

The tap he does on your shoulder startles you enough to elicit a squeal, and that shock doesn’t change even when you realize it’s Yunho beckoning for your attention. 

“I– What are you doing here?”

When Yunho’s brows furrow in offense at your question, you wince. You don’t mean to sound like the last thing you want to do is see him right now, but this is not the best time for him to be showing himself. The last thing you need is for him and Wooyoung to cross paths outside of the classroom with you directly in the middle. Nevertheless, you don’t even get an answer to that query. The moment your arm is snatched and your feet drag while your captor hauls you away from your waiting spot, you internally scold yourself about how you’re probably the easiest kidnapping victim ever. To be fair, he’s a lot stronger than he looks.

“Wait, I have a date with Wooyoung–” 

“I do not care,” he snaps back.

He doesn’t bother responding to any more of your attempts of chiding him, eyes too busy following the signs that guide him to where the nearest restroom is. When he stumbles upon an unoccupied handicapped restroom, he sighs in relief and pulls you in before closing and locking the door. 

“What is wrong with you?” You sputter in a dumbfounded, hushed voice. 

Yunho’s face is splotchy, and he’s visibly agitated while his eyes dodge between your outfit and your face, “Why do you look like that?”

What a silly question, truly. 

In his mind, the problem lies within who you’re looking so beautiful for, and not the fact that you look beautiful at all. Yunho rarely gets to see you as it is, but this prick’s got you dressing up for him? Surely this isn’t necessary, because you’re beautiful enough to make anyone jealous as you already are. In his eyes, anyway.

“I just told you I have a date and I needed to look nicer,” you argue. Before he can muster up another pointless question, you fold your arms across your chest, “Right now is really not the time to be jealous.”

“I’m not jealous, I’m annoyed.”

“Then why are we here, Yunho?” His eyes finally shy away from yours when you motion to your surroundings. He hates it when you use his first name like this because he knows that often accompanies the tone of displeasure. The last thing he wants to do is upset you. You sigh, “Can���t you hold out just a little longer?”

“Dressing up so pretty for him doesn’t help me feel any better.”

“Making a scene about it doesn’t necessarily help anything either, does it?”

You’d snicker at the shameful silence that follows that statement if the situation wasn’t so genuinely distressing to him. He’s genuinely upset, you get it. You’d never admit it out loud, but a piece of you likes seeing him like this: wound-up, needy, and protective. The roles were reversed not too long ago about Wooyoung particularly, so seeing him show that same yearning and agitation when the tables are turned, even if it’s in terrible circumstances, makes you feel validated. Still, you do what you can to ease his mind for now.

“You’re too handsome to be this envious, love,” you murmur sweet nothings. He remains silent, letting those words swirl around in his head while you reach out to fiddle with the kink in his tie until it’s fixed. His lip juts out when you chuckle at the stain sullying his shirt underneath. Your eyes gaze up at his fondly before you add, “How many times do I have to tell you that I’m yours and yours only before you start believing it?” 

Yunho soaks in every syllable of that soothing voice of yours while his eyes settle on your glossy lips when they talk. Anything not to look at those eyes that could surely make him get on his knees and apologize profusely for causing a scene. He’s so predictable sometimes, you muse. You’re sure a kiss or two to help settle his jealousy before you have to leave won’t hurt anyway.

Just as you predicted, he can’t help himself, and the feeling of his impatient hands grabbing at your waist and his lips slotting over yours ignites this fire inside the pit of your stomach. Your butt hits against the counter of the bathroom sink and your hands try to find purchase on his blazer.

“Reminders never hurt, right?” he breaks briefly to mumble before slipping his tongue into your mouth. You indulge him, falling victim to that sinful mouth of his as you always do.

And, sure, maybe kissing you should be enough to quell such intense feelings inside of him, but it’s just not. The thought that Wooyoung also has the ability to kiss you whenever he wants to enhance whatever convoluted plan he has going on makes it almost insignificant. Instead, his hands haphazardly drift under the hem of your dress, because he’s the only one allowed to touch you like this. He hopes so, anyway. 

His warm fingers drag up the soft skin of your inner thighs with no hesitation, and your hands grapple onto his blazer tightly when he reaches the apex to stop briefly at your clothed cunt. Yunho swallows the surprised yelp you let out into his mouth when he begins to rub up and down, pressing on your clit through the cotton and feeling how damp you already are just from kissing him. God, it never gets old, the way he turns you on so easily. You shudder when he tugs your panties to the side and drags his lips in wet kisses from your lips to your ear.

“I’m gonna be late, Yu…” you complain, voice airy and whiny when his thumb rubs at your clit.

“I’m really sorry,” he murmurs while kissing the shell of your ear, “I’m just really pissed off today. You understand, right, angel?”

He punctuates that statement by finally slipping two fingers into your sopping cunt.

Yunho’s a mess. 

He stares at himself in the mirror behind you while his fingers busy themselves with pushing in and out of your cunt. How did he get to such a point, experiencing so many intense emotions over someone he never should’ve fallen in love with in good conscience? How did he end up in this bathroom with his fingers evoking such sloppy noises from between your legs? He stares at how flushed he is in the cheeks with your glittery lipgloss smeared all over his lips and beyond. This is beyond silly…

Yunho swears he’s not actually such a jealous person, he swears, but the current circumstances are doing a number on his mental health. He deliberately curls his fingers up against that plushy spot he loves to find within you and watches tremors travel through your back. Aside from some tiny gasps and whimpers that are barely audible unless you’re close enough to hear them, you’ve learned your lesson on being quiet in these situations, and you keep your lips pressed together tightly. The way your knees are buckling and your hands are clutching onto him for dear life—yes, this is just what he needs. He’s never felt such an intense need to see someone cum in his life.

“Do you want more?” Yunho suddenly breathes against your ear, pressing a loving kiss on your warm skin before pulling back to look you in the eyes, “I’ll do whatever you want me to, even if you just want me to stop.”

As God is his witness, he means every word. He’ll get down on his knees and suck an orgasm from you if you want him to. He’ll hold you against the wall and fuck any word other than his name out of your head if you want him to. To be honest, deep down he just wants to see if you’d blow off your date with this nuisance—even for just a few minutes—to let him satisfy you. Those shiny eyes of yours innocently blinking at his inquiry could make him melt on the spot. You don’t know how much time has passed since you got dragged in here, or how much time there is left of Wooyoung’s class, but your hands move faster than your brain when considering these things as a problem. 

His fingers slip out of your core and into his mouth the moment your hands drop to fumble with his belt hurriedly. There are no words spoken, and the only sounds filling the quiet air of the bathroom are Yunho’s belt buckle coming undone and clattering against the floor tiles once his pants are shoved down. He pushes down his underwear and quickly fists his cock while you turn to bend over the sink. It doesn’t take much to get him hard because seeing you so wet and ready for him to stretch you out with no care for anything else turns him on to the highest degree. 

After tugging your panties down what he deems is enough, he doesn’t even bother teasing and prods at your hole so eagerly that it’s almost embarrassing. The soft gasp you both share when Yunho’s tip fully slips into your cunt by accident makes your stomach manifest butterflies. 

Your hands grip the edges of the counter while he continues pushing forward, mouth agape and brows drawn together while watching the way the tight skin stretches around him and sucks him in greedily. When you finally feel his thighs meet yours, you release a deep breath you didn’t even know you were holding heavy in your lungs. 

“You’re so wet, slipped in so easily,” he huffs, giving you an experimental thrust to see all your arousal coat his cock again before he bunches your dress around your waist in his hands. “Gonna be good for me and stay quiet, right?”

“I should ask you the same,” you whisper, giving him a coy gaze through the mirror. 

The smirk tugging at his lips in place of laughing is followed by a knowing nod, and you close your eyes when he finally begins moving his hips. Yunho has no intention of purposefully rushing things to get you back to your obligations any quicker than him bringing you here. Even so, he isn’t going slow or taking his time like he treated you the last time you had sex. No, this is an exceptionally needy fuck today, with hasty, desperate thrusts that make his eyes flutter closed and chest feel heavy with noises of arousal just begging to creep out. He just can’t help himself; Yunho swears your cunt was perfectly crafted just for him. 

When he feels your knees buckle after one particular angled thrust, he groans lowly, “Right there, angel?” 

With a nod of your head, Yunho's hands move from your dress to your hips, fingertips digging deep into the plush skin while he reciprocates that previous thrust over and over and over until you’re gripping the sink spout to maintain some of your sanity. 

“I need more Yu, please,” you beg him in a whisper, cock-drunk eyes meeting his own in the mirror, “More, more—please—harder.”

You want nothing more than for him to just grab a fist full of your hair and make a mess of your sopping cunt—to ruin your makeup and send you back out to Wooyoung looking like a mess. You crave that pure and raw act of Yunho showing him who you truly belong to. Knowing your lover, he wouldn’t decline the opportunity to assert his dominance in this situation, but you have enough self-control to keep those desires to yourself. He’s giving you enough to handle anyway, firmly pressing your stomach to this counter with strong hands and settling on a brutal pace to satisfy your request. The sounds of skin slapping skin echo amongst desperate pants and gasps from you both every time he bottoms out just as fast as he pulls back.

The steamy air of the bathroom is interrupted when your phone begins ringing on the counter. You know it’s probably Wooyoung finally out of class and wondering where you are. You can’t blame him, as you had explicitly told him you’d be waiting for him outside the classroom. 

Even so, you can’t seem to care enough to remove your focus from Yunho, your unwavering eyes still locked on his own through the mirror as he continues snapping his hips into you quickly. Yunho would be lying if he said this attention didn’t go straight to his head. He knows you shouldn’t ever have to prove it, but the reassurance he feels from seeing your devotion to him in real time makes his chest tight with adoration. The way nobody else matters to you right now, and how he’s the center of your attention, chips away at every inch of jealousy he was feeling earlier. 

Yunho’s hands abruptly pull you off the sink by your arms and up against him. This new position with your back arched and you on your toes has you seeing constellations, and you know you probably aren’t going to last much longer with the way he’s also heaving just behind your ear. When one hand of his moves down to rub sticky circles on your clit, you presume he’s close as well. Yunho feels like he’s going crazy, mind spinning with thoughts of if you keep squeezing him like this, he might just accidentally cum—

“Inside,” you whimper, “Please.”

He finds himself groaning against your skin, teasing you by breathing, “Going on a date with another man’s cum in you’s kinda rude, no?”

“Don’t care, please, please.”

As usual, how can he say no when you beg so cutely? He did say he’d do whatever you want, after all. Your eyes flutter closed and you focus on the final sounds of Yunho’s soft grunts and your shaky exhales mingling in the air while he ruts up into you quickly. It always seems like he knows your body better than you know yourself these days because his hand covers your mouth before he gives the last few sharp thrusts that precede him finally spilling into you, and he successfully stifles the desperate moan you would’ve let fly out once you fall apart in his arms. 

“Quiet– Oh fuck, that’s it,” Yunho hisses, letting out a soft moan at the way you struggle to stand while your legs tremble and your cunt milks him for all he’s worth. He’s dangerously too addicted to this feeling already; you should’ve never introduced something so heavenly to him. He can’t stop his hips from beginning to buck again in messy strokes, intent on fucking you through your orgasm even if he’s sensitive himself. Watching the way you bite down on your lip to keep quiet as told, he whispers well-deserved praises in between kissing your skin, “Taking it so well, sweet girl. You really were made for me. Shhh, I’ve got you.”

Yunho only stops himself when your body becomes pliant in his arms, fully surrendering to fatigue and overstimulation. He waits patiently until you can put your weight back onto your feet before finally releasing his grip. When he finally pulls himself out, he’s not quick enough to step away, and his seed spills from you onto his pants still pooled around his ankles. The handful of curses spilling from his mouth at his fuck-up has you shushing him in between breathless laughs. 

“I’m an idiot,” he groans.

“Yes, and that’s exactly what you get for dragging me in here.”

Yunho spends a handful of minutes using wet napkins to make his pants look a little more presentable while you do the same with the mess you’ve both made soiling the insides of your thighs. He doesn’t even try to hide the satisfied smirk tugging at his lips while inconspicuously watching you try your best to get his cum to stop seeping out of your core. There’s just not enough to properly clean up, and he finds this just as gratifying as getting you here in the first place. To be fair, you were the one who told him that you didn’t care. On that note, he goes to grab your discarded phone and ushers it your way eagerly. 

“You should call your date and let him know you’ll be wherever very soon,” he insists, “I’m sure he’s waiting patiently.”

“Rushing me out after throwing such a fit is crazy,” you mutter while pulling your panties back up. You’re sure he’s just obsessed with the thought of his cum making a cameo on your date.

“A man can’t change his mind?”

As you stand in front of the bathroom mirror, quickly dabbing at your neck with napkins to clean any smeared lip gloss, Yunho leans against the bathroom wall and tries to decide how long he should wait in the bathroom before leaving after you. Between watching the way you apply a fresh coat to your lips and entering post-nut clarity, he’s a bit too scatterbrained to think about this critically, but he’s brought back to the moment when you finally spin around with a sigh.

“Do I look okay?”

There’s a bit of anxiety hidden in that question, evoked by the fear of looking disheveled or being perfumed with the smell of sex, but those thoughts are quickly extinguished when he gives you those eyes that look as though he’s falling in love with you all over again. Maybe it’s that special afterglow that sex grants, but to him, in this moment you look even better than when you enter this bathroom with him. You’re exceptionally beautiful at all times, and he doesn’t even have to answer that question for you to know his thoughts. After planting a quick peck of farewell on his cheek, Yunho stays hidden away against the wall out of view of the door so you can finally leave and call Wooyoung. He’ll hold off on teasing you about the little limp in your walk until you see each other again in private.

The following day, you find yourself seated alone at the familiar table tucked away in the back of the library, the very spot where you and Yeosang often retreated for private discussions. Wooyoung’s ex was supposed to be seated in front of you 10 minutes ago. I’m giving her 5 more minutes before I leave. She was the one who finally asked you to meet with her after a bit of cordial back and forth, so being late to her own plans didn’t necessarily make you as sympathetic to her situation as before. You suppose you should give her a little more grace, considering this is your only opportunity to try and put an end to the madness of Wooyoung’s chasing. Still, you’re a busy woman who needs to prepare for your first exam tomorrow.

“____?” 

A soft voice emerges from behind you that has you craning your head to seek out its owner.

“Hello,” you greet her, and your eyes follow her as she ambles around the table to set down her bag to settle in across from you. “Didn’t know if you were still going to show up.”

“I apologize for being late,” she sighs, embarrassment blossoming on her cheeks. With her first question, she wastes no time delving into the purpose of your meeting, “So, how long have you and Woo been dating?”

Due to her Instagram page being locked down, you hadn’t seen very many pictures of her before this meeting. You were only able to get glimpses of her in a scarce amount of posts on her sorority’s page that included all sisters. In person, she’s exceptionally beautiful, and you expected nothing less of someone being so heavily pursued. Your blatant staring and lack of reply to her question have her glancing at you quizzically.

It’s a bit surreal at first, but it finally sinks in that sitting in front of you is the very person of Wooyoung’s desires. An involuntary giggle escapes you at how silly this situation is, as you were never really prepared to be confronted by the very girl Wooyoung kept you from knowing this whole time. She was merely a faceless hindrance to your life, to the point of even doubting her existence at one point. Your reaction doesn’t fare well with her, and she’s noticeably bothered at being laughed at. 

“I’m sorry, that was rude of me,” you offer a genuine apology before leaning onto the table on your elbows and admitting truthfully, “Not too long at all, just about a month.” 

Still, way too long, you’d like to add. Even though she visibly relaxes at this revelation, you can see a conflicting look flicker behind her eyes.

“I still don’t really understand why you contacted me,” she sighs, but the look in her eyes just doesn’t correspond. 

You’re sure she knows exactly why you reached out and exactly what you want to say; surely she already knows she is all Wooyoung wants. During this conversation, you had planned to tell a series of half-truths. She didn’t need to know how you got wrapped up in this mess, but you figured it’d be helpful to admit that Wooyoung only thinks of her when he’s with you. Maybe you’d give her some empathetic spiel about how you “think” he hasn’t moved on from his feelings for her, and make it a bit emotional on your end. Despite those words dancing on the tip of your tongue, ready to give your best performance, you realize that she looks as if she wants to do your job for you. So, you play into it and let her take the wheel.

“You look like you want to ask me something,” you observe, “I’m all ears.”

Sitting up a bit more erect in her chair, she meets your eyes head-on.

“I’d like to ask you if…” But, her voice falters before she can get to the tail of her request. 

You wonder if it’s a pride thing that’s keeping her from being honest with herself. She wants him back, you’re sure of it, but she’s the one who broke things off initially. Maybe she’s embarrassed, you muse. You suppose you could gently guide the conversation, posing the question she hesitates to voice herself.

“Do you want me to break up with him?” You ask forthrightly.

“I do,” she finally confesses, “I was hesitant about rekindling our relationship, but you reaching out to me made me feel more confident that I should ask. I’m so sorry.”

Feigning indecision is easy, and pretending to fight your feelings about the situation is the cherry on top. It wouldn’t be believable if you gave up too easily, so the uncomfortable silence is more than necessary. The false front is believable enough because she cuts into the tense silence before you can even respond.

“I made a mistake and I would just like a second chance with him. I know I’m asking for a lot from you, and I want him to be happy, but I can’t pretend that I don’t still love him anymore,” she rambles on, trying her best to be authentic, “We were together for quite some time and—”

“I’m aware,” you finally interject. When she downcasts her eyes, you perch your head in your palm and sigh, “Wooyoung is still in love with you as well. I don’t want to be with someone who’s still caught up on someone else anymore. You understand?”

The way her eyes light up at this revelation makes yours soften. Even though Wooyoung’s actions may be maddening to you, you can tell he genuinely brings her joy. They both truly love each other.

“I don’t know how to go about this,” she admits after a moment of thought.

"Just tell him you want him back. He'll probably end things with me right away," you say bluntly. You feel it's best to give her a gentle nudge to act sooner rather than later, though. So, you add, "I think he’s been planning a trip for us after finals, but I'm sure he'd rather go with you. Please, do it soon."

Underscoring the word please to her might come across as begging, but at this point, you are beyond caring. Going your separate ways after closing this conversation feels like a hefty weight lifted off of your shoulders. In the end, you’ve done what needed to be done in terms of setting the stage; now it was time for her return to the spotlight as the lead. 

The next morning, you awaken to a text from Wooyoung finally breaking your arrangement off. He doesn’t go into any specifics of what happened, but at any rate, you don’t need or care to know. As far as you’re concerned, he’s fully evaporated from your life the moment you delete his text thread. You find that your coffee and breakfast taste better than normal with one less weight of stress hanging over your head. Exchanging many [Good luck!] texts with Yunho has him subsequently requesting to meet with you after today’s exam. That is how you ended up dawdling around your favorite aisle in the campus bookstore just before lunch. You had decided to turn in your textbook rentals early and put all of your faith in your notes for these next few days. The only other thing really lingering over your head was to finally turn in your final paper for Yunho’s class before midnight.

You start to get a bit impatient when Yunho fails to show up after your proposed meeting time, and you wonder if maybe he’s in the wrong spot. With calculated steps, you begin to roam the nearby shelves, reluctant to call out his name too many times in such a quiet place. There are only but so many aisles he could be in within this store anyway. After a couple of minutes peeking into different empty aisles, you finally decide he’s simply just late. You venture back to your original aisle and decide to browse in the meantime; this is the last time you’d ever be stepping foot in this place, so it couldn’t hurt to chew over a last-minute purchase. No matter how frequently this aisle has seen your presence in the last few years, you never fail to find something new that piques your interest. Unfortunately, today’s mark is a small book with the prettiest spine, and it sits just out of your reach on the top shelf. Being unobtainable only makes your curiosity even more inevitable.

Stretching every muscle in your body as far as it’ll give to try and at least graze the spine fails; there’s just no use, and it seems appealing to simply give up. The moment you finally fall back on the heels of your feet, you can feel the sturdiness of a chest slyly pressing against your back while reaching for that very same book just out of your reach. 

“You should really be more aware of your surroundings,” Yunho’s smooth voice hums next to your ear after feeling you freeze up underneath his presence. He plucks the book from the shelf with ease and sighs. You can feel his breath fan out on your neck and even smell the mint on his breath when he adds a playful jab, “Short stuff.”

“And you should really be more punctual,” you quip back, trying your best to ignore his proximity. 

He’s dressed casually today, charmingly sporting a comfortable pair of jeans and an oversized sweater since classes are officially over. If you didn’t already know who he was, a simple glance would have you thinking he was a student himself.

“Oh c’mon pretty, at least I’m here like I said I’d be, right?” He reasons excitedly while offering you a toothy grin that’s way too cute for your liking. The gentle tap of the book on the crown of your head has you scrunching up your nose, and he sets it aside. “You sure this section is private enough?”

“One hundred percent. I used to sit here in my free time when I wanted to read books without buying them,” you admit, adding, “No cameras over here either.”

Yunho eyes you curiously. You're practically glowing today, evident to him by the smile you can’t seem to keep off of your face even when you feign annoyance at his tardiness. He presses a hand to the shelf ledge behind you while the other finds solace in his pocket with his belongings.

“What’s got you so happy today?”

He’s torn between whether you’ll say something about already being rid of one exam, or maybe your spontaneous rendezvous with him here has you that giddy. Your eyes gaze back into his expectant ones and you find yourself finally able to relax for the first time in many weeks. 

“It’s all over, Yunho.”

Normally, a sentence like that would seem ominous, but the wide stretch of your lips has his poor heart shooting into his throat. It’s the way your eyes are lit while saying his name that really gets him. His pocketed hand finds its way to your cheek and his thumb skims the apple of your cheek. This kind of smile is something he hopes he can evoke from you on his own in the near future.

“I really missed seeing you this happy,” he confesses, “You look like you can breathe again, ____.”

Something about the way those soft chocolate eyes of his are openly admiring every inch of your face, committing this kind of happiness from you to memory, has you shrinking back in shyness and averting your gaze.

Eager to move the spotlight off yourself, you inquire, “So… why’d you wanna meet up here?”

Oh, that’s right…

Yunho’s decision to drive to campus today mainly stemmed from the fact that you would already be here. He didn’t want you to have to go out of your way just for him to see you, especially after an exam. A clandestine meeting in the bookstore, which you assured him beforehand would be devoid of many students, seemed like a feasible option. He moves to wrap his arms around you, pressing you against his chest in a firm embrace. You don’t hesitate to wrap your arms around his waist.

“It’s going to be a very busy week for me with grading final papers all by myself,” Yunho begins tentatively. 

His eyes close and he focuses on slowing down his heart that’s beating a bit too prominently in his chest when your ear is pressed against it. There are a lot of emotions coursing through him today, many he can’t quite decipher, although he supposes maybe that’s just everything he’s been feeling throughout the entire semester coming to a head: love, jealousy, desperation, angst, and more. Even amongst the newfound happiness blossoming within his chest at such a detrimental obstacle being overcome, anxiety is still the most overwhelming feeling consuming him. It’s a bit nerve-wracking inching closer and closer to the final moments where he can confidently say you’re his with no repercussions. He’s been reflecting on how things will change between you both when finally crossing over this hump, and how things will flourish sans the threats to your futures. He doesn’t want to get too ahead of himself, though.

“Continue,” you encourage him, “I’m listening.”

“I just wanted to see you in person before I have to disappear, and tell you that I know you’re going to do amazing on your exams,” Yunho’s gentle voice imparts. He lowers it further to add, “I’m very proud of you and…”

When he trails off, you turn to plant your chin on his chest and peer up at him with coy eyes, “And?”

“And… I love you,” he whispers, eyes flickering up for the briefest second to confirm you’re still in solitude. 

Your gentle laughter at his neverending caution is like music to his ears. He’s still learning how to comfortably say those words without being fearful of not hearing them back. The feeling of his arms letting you go in favor of his hands holding either side of your face steals the opportunity to return his words of adoration. Instead, you put those unspoken words into the kiss he doesn’t hesitate to initiate. When you reach up and pull him by the back of his neck, deepening the kiss and encouraging him to let go, he feels his nerves finally melt away for this moment and this moment only. Yunho pulls away before he can get too lost in the feeling of not caring where you both are, and the way you’re led to chase his lips has heat prickling your cheeks.

“You know, the store’s nearly empty… Might even just be me and you,” you hum. Yunho’s eyes don’t leave yours, even as he feels your hand mischievously skirt down his chest to tap at the belt buckle under his sweater. When your fingers dare to dance further down to the crotch of his jeans, he finally takes hold of your wrist. “Oh come on, are you still nervous?”

He shakes his head confidently, “Just think it’d be more fun to reward you once your exams are over. Making you wait a lil might be fun, no?”

“You sure you can go a couple weeks without it?” You taunt him with a cock of your head. “All that stress while grading finals adds up, no?”

“Is this coming from the same woman who spent two weeks away from me in the arms of another man before I knew about it?” He immediately counters, eyebrows dancing with mischief. “I’ll be just fine. You, on the other hand, are a needy little thing it seems.”

“Don’t make me consider going back,” you warn him.

Yunho’s eyes find the ceiling as he inhales a deep, frustrated breath. Provoking him like this is unfair and dirty. If he were a man with no self-control, he’d have half a mind to have you in this aisle on your knees, putting that mouth to better use than spouting such nonsense. For now, he simply purses his lips and nods curtly. 

“That’s okay, be that way,” he concedes in a voice low enough for your ears only, “Because the next time I get my hands on you…” 

He trails off while palming your ass through your leggings and squeezing to his heart’s content. The yelp you let out at his fingers sinking in a little deeper than usual makes a pleased smile tug at his lips. He’d say a lot more, let those lewd thoughts entering his mind go freely for once, but the sounds of feet shuffling not too far away shut him up just as fast as he could think to say them. You both separate abruptly and face opposite shelves. How disappointing…

Yunho clears his throat before finally sighing, “On that note, I look forward to receiving your paper tonight.”

“I look forward to you reading it, Mr. Jeong,” you hum, and he can hear the smile lingering on your words. It’s been quite some time since he heard such formalities come from your mouth. “I hope it ends up being worth the wait. You did help me craft it, after all.”

Behind you, his warm chuckle is followed by him laying a comforting hand on your head. 

“See you at graduation, ____,” he whispers. 

When he departs, being left alone doesn’t feel so lonely for once.

♡ taglist: @yeos-bunny @sharksandminhos @sannieluvrr @txt-yaomi @thisisntmyrightera @oreoqueen @jadeneliz @atinism @uarmytess @nopension @aaaaajonghooooo @tmtxtf @ateezallday @bloomyroses @shingene @likexaxdaydream @innsomniacshinestar @st4rhwa @eixila @sunflower-png @jadeneliz @witchlaughwoo @ashlurrr @justthattheatregirl @bts-army380 @trivia-134340 @marvelous-llama @uarmytess @hyukssunflower @ateez-atiny380 @dazzlingstarrs @fxckinmingi @348kg @moonlightgrleric @kirilunimimi @tvxqnnie

[amuseoffyre]

I’m emotionally ruined by the fact that Aziraphale hasn’t broken out of his heavenly conditioning. He still loves doing good. He gets happy when people tell him he’s an angel and says “it’s nice to tell people about the good things you’ve done now that I’m not reporting to Heaven”. He will literally put himself in harm’s way to make sure he does the Good and Right thing.

It can’t be understated how much Heaven’s influence still impacts on him. Aziraphale has been created, ordained and conditioned to believe it and he can’t just switch it off or walk away. Crowley didn’t get the choice. He was Fallen. He was kicked out and - as per the rules of toxic and terrifying cults - Aziraphale was always told for centuries and millennia, Falling was the worst thing that could happen. If you’re bad, you’ll be forced out. If you’re bad, you’re not one of Us. You’re one of Them.

When he did something he perceived as Right (ie. saving innocent children from death), but knew it wasn’t what Heaven intended, he broke down. Crowley found him a crying, shaking wreck afterwards because he was so convinced he was Evil. He was so convinced he was going to be dragged to Hell and that he was now a demon because he did one thing that saved some children but because it wasn’t a specific directive, it was Bad.

It shapes so much about him and it’s why the whole series looks like he’s having so much fun doing silly human things, but there’s this brittleness to it. He’s happy and excited and he’s doing his human-life things and having a lovely time, but he’s also constantly stressed because of the Need To Do Good. From the moment Gabriel turns up, he’s a nervous wreck and is trying to hide it by Doing Good, by Solving the Problem, by Fixing Things, by being so active and reactive rather than letting himself think about it. It’s a sign of exactly how frantic he is that he starts giving away his books and letting humans touch them.

Watch his face when the Archangels show up unexpectedly: that isn’t joy. That’s blind terror. He’s so afraid of doing the wrong thing in Heaven’s eyes, even though he made the active choice to do so because it was the Right thing to do. He’s a Guardian and he will protect, but he is so very afraid of the repercussions, even now. 

At the end of S1, Crowley said “they’re gearing up for the big one” so Aziraphale’s not oblivious. He knows a big one is coming. He knows something worse than the Antichrist will be on its way. And he’s trying so hard to pretend that everything is normal and fine and if he ignores all the looming bad stuff, it won’t happen. If we don’t say anything about it, nothing has to change.

But then the changes come knocking at his door holding a box and the choice is gone. He can keep trying to blinker himself to it, but then there are angels and demons in the bookshop and he’s had to use his halo and everything is falling apart.

So when he realises that he can get himself into a position where he can guarantee those repercussions won’t happen to Crowley? He will absolutely take it. He says himself “I don’t want to go back to Heaven”, but the instant the Metatron offers him a free pass for Crowley, to take Crowley out of both Heaven and Hell’s sightlines, to keep him safe (Another bee inside the hive, if you will), no wonder he grabs it with both hands.

The tragedy is that Crowley thinks that when they saved the world together, that was the end of Heaven’s influence in Aziraphale. When he was cast out the split between him and Heaven was sharp and clean. He doesn’t - he can’t - understand how deeply it has tangled around Aziraphale. It’s built into Aziraphale’s entire being and unravelling it isn’t that simple. Aziraphale’s trauma is a horrible, terrible Gordian knot and Crowley can’t understand that he couldn’t simply cut through it, because that’s just not how Aziraphale works.

[hoe4sports]

“Take my heart, dont break it”

Alexia Putellas x reader

A/N: You voted and picked Alexia. This is a series based on Myles Smith song called stargazing. No triggers. P2 here.

The fresh Barcelonian air was flowing into your hotelroom as you found yourself sat in the frame of the window m next to one of your teammates, Alexia Putellas. You were both sitting together in silence with your eyes closed soaking up the morning bliss. The sun was slowly waking up as the gentle rays felt like a warm cup of cocoa in December by the fireplace with a book and a blanket. Not too warm, not too cold. You were taking in all the fresh salty air you could possibly fit into your lungs before exhaling through your mouth. It felt blissful, peaceful; like a morning mindfulness class. You could smell the gentle strawberry scent from the tea Alexia had made you when you got up in time for sunrise. You and Alexia had known each other forever. You grew up with her and Alba next door and you had religiously played football with Alexia for your whole life. You did it all together: High school, college, Barcelona and the national team. You sat together on buses and flights. Even though she was entitled to her own hotel room as captain; she still wanted to partner up with you.

“Can I interrupt your peace?” Alexia asked as you opened up your eye to see her still in the same relaxed position with her eyes closed. “If you must” you said as you giggled. Alexia sighted. “No, no, go ahead big al” you corrected as you looked out on the beach below the hotel.

“I’ve been having some issue with Olga; she seems spaced out. She’s there, but she isn’t really there. It’s strange, I don’t really understand and she keeps insisting that everything is all good. I dont honestly know what to do.”

You could sense the tension in the room as the Catalan poured her heart out to you. It was like thunder from a crystal blue sky. They seemingly had the picture perfect relationship. Amazing vacations. Nice cars. Fancy dinners.

“It’s just, I know it’s selfish but I can’t stop my mind from wondering if she is cheating on me. She’s always on her phone, and she deleted her location off of the life360 app.”

You spent a second figuring out what words Alexia wanted to hear and what she needed to hear. It was clear as day that you needed to knock some common sense into her. Who would cheat on one of the hottest women in the world of football? Nobody could ever be able to commit to adultery without anyone taking notice of their famous girlfriend.

“Ai, Ale. Do you want me to tell you what you want to hear or what you need to hear? Pick your poison capitana.”

You looked over at her. She was still sitting in the sun in the window while taking on the fresh air. Her chest rhythmically rising. Her brown eyes were still closed and her blonde hair was up in the messiest Lucy Bronze style bun you could imagine making the sight of her almost wanting you to giggle.

“Hm, buena pregunta…Tell me what I need to hear.” Alexia said softly as she opened up her eyes to look at you showing off her worried grin. Her body language changed. Like she was getting ready for a fight.

“Estúpida, Olga loves you! She adores you. She practically worships the ground you walk on. You need to talk to your girlfriend, and you need to tell her what you told me.” You finished as you looked at her with an attitude.

Later that day at practice, you were doing drills with Claudia. It was evidently warmer now, and you had popped off your shirt to avoid getting overly warm. You kept passing the ball at the right time in the right height to help Claudia with her first touches. It was always fun working with Claudia. Her humor was incredible and if her humor didn’t do the job; her infections laugh would. As you passed the last ball to Claudia, she ended up whacking the ball senseless and the ball went flying into the open field. It caused you to laugh hysterically as Claudia flopped down on the grass. Claudia was a vibe; you got along so well and she’d been like your little sister.

The next practice begun at the gym, and it was individual programs. You, Alexia, Claudia and Ingrid has the same program for the day meaning that you partnered up together. You noticed that Alexia seemed distracted. At first, she had placed the weights in the bench press without securing them causing them to go flying off the pole. The next situation was when she tried filling her waterbottle from the water cooler and she overfilled in for a good 10 seconds before she caught the little spill. The last situation was when Claudia was doing squats and Alexia was supposed to be spotting her right side as you spotted the left. The weights were a little heavier than what Claudia normally lifted so you expected her to need assistance. After four lifts, Claudia went for the fifth and it caused her to fail. You grabbed the pole from the left side as the younger girls hands were wobbly violently to hold up the other side of the pole. Alexia didn’t caught on. “Alexia” No answer. “Alexia for fucks sake, help!” You yelled causing Ingrid to shove her away to help you with the spotting.

In the warderobe that afternoon after everyone left, you decided to stay behind and talk to Alexia again. Alexia liked taking her time in the shower so it wasn’t uncommon for her to be the last woman standing. You approached her as she stepped out of the shower with only a towel wrapped around her lower half leaving her chest open.

“Ale, you have been distant. You could’ve caused an injury. What’s going on?” You crossed your arms as you stood in front of her with a stern look on your face. The feeling you had wasn’t something you could shook away easily. You just couldn’t act in situations that maybe had happened. That wouldn’t be fair to Olga or Alexia.

“Ai, Y/N, it’s just hard. I’m in my head and Olga is too busy to talk. I cannot shook the feeling I’m having in my gut. But I need to trust Olga, right?”

You nodded. Olga hadn’t done anything that wouldn’t give her chance to explain herself. For all Alexia knew, this was all just a big misunderstanding.

Olga was amazing, you knew her from before her and Alexia started dating, and they were perfect for each other. Olga was always so perfect, almost to the point where it annoyed you. Olga was picture perfect and rarely looked out of line or did Alexia wrong. Alexia’s observations were however not unlikely. A few weeks ago you went to a new restaurant with Claudia, and you could’ve sworn you saw Olga with another woman. You couldn’t be sure though because you had excused yourself to the bathroom to get a better look, but when you got out of the bathroom; The mystery woman was out of sight. Quite frankly, she had also been out of mind.

That was until now however, but it couldn’t have been Olga. Olga was sweet, genuine and had a heart of gold. You couldn’t wrap your mind around what Alexia had said, but you could also not tell her that you might saw Olga. You were having an internalised conflict of trying to decided whenever to tell her or not. You didn’t want to seem pushy and like you didn’t like Olga, but you didn’t want Alexia’s heart to break either.

At least, that was the lie you continued to tell yourself.

[supersoakerfullofblood]

Point of View: the Biggest Thing You're Missing!

Point of view is one of the most important elements of narrative fiction, especially in our modern writing climate, but you rarely hear it seriously discussed unless you go to school for writing; rarely do help blogs or channels hit on it, and when they do, it's never as in-depth as it should be. This is my intro to POV: what you're probably missing out on right now and why it matters. There are three essential parts of POV that we'll discuss.

Person: This is the easiest part to understand and the part you probably know already. You can write in first person (I/me), second (You), and third person (He/she/they). You might hear people talk about how first person brings the reader closer to the central character, and third person keeps them further away, but this isn't true (and will be talked about in the third part of this post!) You can keep the reader at an intimate or alien distance to a character regardless of which person you write in. The only difference--and this is arguable--is that first person necessitates this intimacy where third person doesn't, but you still can create this intimacy in third person just as easily. In general, third person was the dominant (and really the only) tense until the late 19th century, and first person grew in popularity with the advent of modernism, and nowadays, many children's/YA/NA books are written in first person (though this of course doesn't mean you can't or shouldn't write those genres in the third person). Second person is the bastard child. Don't touch it, even if you think you're clever, for anything the length of a novel. Shorter experimental pieces can use it well, but for anything long, its sounds more like a gimmick than a genuine stylistic choice.

Viewpoint Character: This is a simple idea that's difficult in practice. Ask yourself who is telling your story. This is typically the main character, but it needn't be. Books like The Book Thief, The Great Gatsby, Rebecca, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and the Sherlock series are told from the perspective of a side character who isn't of chief importance to the narrative. Your viewpoint character is this side character, the character the reader is seeing the world through, so the main character has to be described through them. This isn't a super popular narrative choice because authors usually like to write from the perspective of their most interesting character, but if you think this choice could fit your story, go for it! You can also swap viewpoint characters throughout a story! A word of warning on that: only change your viewpoint character during a scene/chapter break. Switching mid-scene without alerting the reader (and even when you do alert the reader) will cause confusion. I guarantee it.

Means of Perception; or, the Camera: This part ties the first two together. If you've ever heard people talk about an omniscient, limited, etc. narrator, this is what they mean. This part also includes the level of intimacy the reader has with the viewpoint character: are we in their heads, reading their thoughts, or are we so far away that we can only see their actions? If your story is in a limited means of perception, you only have access to your character's head, eyes, and interpretations, where an omniscient narrator sees through all characters' heads at once. (This doesn't eliminate the viewpoint character--most of your writing will still be in that character's head, but you're allowed to reach into other characters' thoughts when needed. You could also be Virginia Woolf, who does fluidly move through everyone's perspectives without a solid viewpoint character, but I would advise against this unless you really are a master of the craft.) Older novels skew towards third person omniscient narration, where contemporary novels skew towards first person limited. You also have a spectrum of "distant" and "close." If omniscient and limited are a spectrum of where the camera can swivel to, distant and close is a spectrum of how much the camera can zoom in and out. Distant only has access to the physical realities of the world and can come off as cold, and close accesses your character's (or characters', if omniscient) thoughts. Notice how I said narration. Your means of perception dramatically effects how your story can be told! Here's a scene from one of my stories rewritten in third-person distant omniscient. The scene is a high school football game:

“Sometimes,” he said. “Not much anymore.” “It’s not better, then?” She shivered; the wind blew in. “A little.” His tone lifted. “I don’t know if it’ll ever be better, though.” She placed a hand on his arm, stuttered there, and slipped her arm around his waist. “Did it help to be on your own?” He raised an eyebrow. “You were there.” “Yes and no.” “And the guys, the leaders.” “Come on,” she heckled. “Okay, okay.” Carmen sighed. “Yeah, it helped. I don’t think—I don’t know—I’d be me if they’d fixed it all.” She grinned. “And who might you be?” “Oh, you know. Scared, lonely.” He fired them haphazardly, and a bout of laughter possessed him which Piper mirrored. “Impatient.” “And that’s a good thing?” “No.” He sat straight. “Gosh, no. But I don’t want to be like him, either.” He pointed to the field; Devon recovered a fumbled ball. “He’s never been hurt in his life.” She met his eyes, which he pulled away. “You don’t mean that," Piper said. “Maybe not. He’s too confident, though.” The cloth of Carmen's uniform caved and expanded under Piper's fingers.

With distant-omniscient, we only get the bare actions of the scene: the wind blows in, Piper shivers, the cloth rises and falls, Carmen points, etc. But you can tell there's some emotional and romantic tension in the scene, so let's highlight that with a first person limited close POV:

“Sometimes,” he said. “Not much anymore.” “It’s not better, then?” Frost spread up from her legs and filled her as if she were perforated rock, froze and expanded against herself so that any motion would disturb a world far greater than her, would drop needles through the mind’s fabric. A misplaced word would shatter her, shatter him. “A little.” His tone lifted. “I don’t know if it’ll ever be better, though.” She placed a hand on his arm, thought better, and slipped her arm around his waist. “Did it help to be on your own?” He raised an eyebrow. “You were there.” “Yes and no.” “And the guys, the leaders.” “Come on,” she heckled. “Okay, okay.” Carmen sighed. “Yeah, it helped. I don’t think—I don’t know—I’d be me if they’d fixed it all.” She grinned. “And who might you be?” “Oh, you know. Scared, lonely.” He fired them haphazardly, and a bout of laughter possessed him which Piper mirrored. “Impatient.” “And that’s a good thing?” “No.” He sat straight. “Gosh, no. But I don’t want to be like him, either.” He pointed to the field; Devon recovered a fumbled ball. “He’s never been hurt in his life.” “You don’t mean that.” She spoke like a jaded mother, spoke with some level of implied authority, and reminded herself again to stop. “Maybe not. He’s too confident, though.” Piper felt the cloth of his waist cave and expand under her fingers and thought: is this not confidence?

Here, we get into Piper's thoughts and physical sensations: how the frost rises up her, and how this sensation of cold is really her body expressing her nervous fears; how she "thought better" and put her arm around his waist; her thought "is this not confidence?"; and how she reminds herself not to talk like a mother. Since I was writing from the close, limited perspective of a nervous high schooler, I wrote like one. If I was writing from the same perspective but with a child or an older person, I would write like them. If you're writing from those perspectives in distant narration, however, you don't need to write with those tones but with the authorial tone of "the narrator."

This is a lot of info, so let's synthesize this into easy bullet points to remember.

Limited vs. Omniscient. Are you stuck to one character's perspective per scene or many?

Close vs. Distant. Can you read your characters' thoughts or only their external worlds? Remember: if you can read your character's thoughts, you also need to write like you are that character experiencing the story. If child, write like child; if teen, write like teen; etc.

Here's another way to look at it!

This is a confusing and complex topics, so if you have any questions, hit up my ask box, and I'll answer as best I can. The long and short of it is to understand which POV you're writing from and to ruthlessly stick to it. If you're writing in limited close, under no circumstances should you describe how a character other than your viewpoint character is feeling. Maintaining a solid POV is necessary to keeping the dream in the reader's head. Don't make them stumble by tripping up on POV!

[punkshort]

somewhere to run | 10. austin

Pairing: sheriff!Joel x f!reader

Chapter Summary: You and Joel travel to Austin to meet with a lawyer.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, hurt/comfort, flirting, sexual tension, emotional abuse, infidelity, some recapping of DV and SA situations but nothing new, smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected (reader previously mentions she's on bc) piv sex

WC: 6.6K

A/N: I have started a notification blog - @punkshort-notifs if you are interested in following for fic updates (but I will be keeping the tag list for this series until it is over)

Series Masterlist

One Month Later

Life carried on the way it always does. Without permission, regardless of any pain or suffering, it always remained a constant. Whether you were present or not, whether you wanted to acknowledge it or hide from it, it didn't matter, because life always carried on.

The first week was the worst. A week of what you could only describe as depression. A week of being alone. Safe, but terribly alone. Going to work helped distract you, until he came in for lunch like always and it felt like your heart was being torn in two all over again. And you could tell it hurt him, too, but you both seemed willing to withstand the pain over not seeing each other at all. Because even though it hurt, it was a reminder you were alive. A reminder that you could still care enough about somebody else, despite everything.

The second week was when you could no longer smell him in your bed. You woke up one morning, eyes barely even open as you searched around the pillowcase, then the sheets, grabbing and pulling at the fabric, desperate to seek out his scent to no avail.

The third week was when you finally didn't have to fight the urge to call or text him, even though he said you could, you knew it would just make things harder. And he must have agreed because he didn't reach out, either.

The fourth week was when you began to feel like you were finally coming out of your slump. You could go to the grocery store or pharmacy and didn't feel your heart skip a beat, you didn't scan the parking lot for his truck in the hopes of running into him. You didn't stop thinking about him, but it just hurt less. That is, until you ran into Hailey coming back from work one evening.

She was out on the sidewalk, cleaning up some garbage from the picnic tables in front of the pizzeria when you waved and caught her eye. You could immediately tell something was wrong by the pained smile she gave you.

"Hey," she said, the smile not reaching her eyes as she leaned up against her broom.

"What's going on?" you asked her. "Haven't seen you in a while."

"Yeah, I know, sorry. Work's been-" she waved in the direction of the propped open door and shook her head. "But I've been meaning to talk to you."

"Oh?"

"It's about book club," she said, dropping her gaze to the ground. "And I just want to let you know, I voted against it-"

"They don't want me back, do they?" you offered, trying to make it easier for her. She sighed and shook her head.

"It's all so stupid, I'm sorry," she said, looking up at you again. "Nikki's got all those old ladies wrapped around her finger and they're just pissed Joel dumped her for... well, y'know."

"They know we aren't together, right? I mean, I'm married..." you trailed off, not wishing to go into too much detail when you knew eventually when you went to court, all your dirty laundry would be aired.

"Yeah, they do. Still, they blame you, and it's stupid, like I said. They should be mad at Joel, it's not like it's your fault, and I swear I tried explaining that-"

"It's okay," you said, holding up your hand and giving her a sad smile. "I appreciate it, but it's fine. I have a lot coming up, anyway. I won't find that much time to read."

"But we can still hang out! Do you wanna go get drinks this weekend? Or maybe see a movie?" Hailey asked, and you could tell she genuinely felt bad.

"Yeah, either of those sound great," you said. "I'll text you and we can figure something out."

You made a hasty exit and dragged yourself up the stairs to your apartment. Even though you probably wouldn't have continued to go, the rejection still stung.

For a while, the silence was deafening. Without a TV to even distract you, leaving you with endless amounts of time to overthink, you were worried you were going insane. You lucked out recently and found a decent TV at a thrift store, so you at least had something to occupy your time, although you knew it would be short lived. In a couple days, you had an appointment to meet with a law firm in Austin. An appointment Joel had set up and offered to attend with you, and at the time, you were so desperate for anything to do with him, you agreed, but now you were wondering if that was a bad idea. Almost two hours in the car alone with Joel? No, that didn't seem like a good idea at all.

"Whadd'ya mean, you wanna drive separate?" Joel asked as you refilled his coffee. "That doesn't make any sense. Waste of gas."

"Yeah, but I was thinking of staying an extra day. Check out the city," you lied, turning your back to him so he wouldn't be able to see through you.

"Alone?"

You cringed at the word, but nodded. The little dinner bell rang in the window and your eyes jumped up just in time to see Thor put Joel's sandwich on the small shelf. You grabbed the plate and set it down in front of him, his eyes still boring into you, waiting for a better explanation.

"I think it'll just be easier," you said quietly, the words only meant for his ears. When he connected the dots, he leaned back in his chair and nodded.

"Oh," he said, gaze drifting down to his food. "That's a shame. I was lookin' forward to it."

"I'm sorry," you told him, grabbing a rag and pretending to wipe down the counter so your conversation didn't invite gossip and speculation. "So was I. That's the problem."

"And if I promise to behave myself, would you reconsider?" he teased, finally making you smile a little.

"I think you're incapable of behaving yourself, Sheriff," you replied, making him chuckle.

This was what your relationship had been reduced to: quick, flirty exchanges over coffee and turkey clubs. You supposed it was better than nothing.

"C'mon, it's just a couple hours. If you want, you can nap or listen to music," he said, picking up his sandwich and taking a bite.

"Fine," you relented, but only because once you offered taking two cars out loud, you realized how stupid it sounded.

"Pick you up at 7?" he asked around a mouth full of food.

"Sure. Do I need to prepare anything? I've never gotten this far in the process before," you told him, suddenly feeling nervous.

"Nope. Helen already sent over all the reports and once the process gets started, they'll reach out to whatever hospital you went to back in Philly to get your emergency room medical reports," he explained, and you nodded along, feeling fidgety. "I'm sure they'll do some more digging while they're at it. Reach out to his police captain and all that."

"Right," you said, biting your nail.

"One step at a time, alright?" he told you softly, picking up on your nerves. "You already did your part, now let the lawyers do theirs."

"But I'll have to testify," you reminded him, and he slowly nodded.

"Most likely, yes. You don't have to, but it'll help your case if you do."

"And he'll be there?" you asked, wringing the towel between your hands.

"Yeah, he'll be there," Joel said, watching your face fall. "But I'll be there, too. You just look at me when the time comes, don't look at him."

"Okay," you said, taking a deep breath. You knew this would be hard, but you also knew it was necessary. "And this lawyer - they can help me get a divorce?"

"Yeah," he said with a nod, and you breathed a sigh of relief.

"Okay," you said again. You forced yourself to smile even though the anxiety was already creeping up. "I can do this," you told him, trying to sound confident.

"Hell yes, you can do this," he replied. "That's my girl," he added, picking up his sandwich then pausing before taking a bite. He glanced up at you and gave you half a smirk when he noticed the look on your face at the term of endearment. "Sorry, I'll behave."

You had initially dreaded waking up so early, but after the restless night's sleep you ended up having, it turned out it didn't make much of a difference. Your appointment was at 9:30 and it took about two hours to get to Austin, so Joel arriving at 7am gave you a decent cushion in case there was traffic.

Already two cups of coffee down, you poured the rest into a travel thermos and grabbed your purse before jogging lightly down your stairs. You locked your door and turned towards the street to find Joel's truck parked right out front. Glancing around, you noticed it was fairly quiet still, which was a relief. Joel didn't have to take you to see a lawyer. His job was technically done until the trial. He was doing this for you, to give you some support and advice and it would be ideal if you could keep people from gossiping about it for as long as possible.

"Mornin'," he greeted you with a lazy smile, which perked right up when you handed him the thermos. "Oh, you're an angel, baby," he murmured, taking a sip with an appreciative groan. You took a deep breath and forced yourself to focus on your seatbelt. Less than two minutes and he already had you squirming in your seat.

The first hour of the trip actually turned out to be relatively quiet. You sat in a comfortable silence, listening to the radio while Joel hummed along and tapped the steering wheel and if you closed your eyes, you could imagine the scene just a little differently. Instead of Joel taking you to see a lawyer in Austin so you could press charges and divorce your abusive husband, you imagined you were taking a road trip together. Maybe with no destination in mind: just the two of you and the open road, stopping whenever you saw fit to explore and staying at roadside motels with stiff sheets and shag carpets, limbs tangled together as you panted into each other's mouths. No secrets. No drama. You smiled to yourself, the fantasy giving you a pleasant reminder of what you could have if you just stayed strong.

"What're you smilin' for?" he asked, and your eyes opened to look at him.

"Nothing," you said, and he clicked his tongue against his teeth. God, you missed that tongue and what it could do.

"When all this is over, do you think we can take a road trip together?" you asked him, and his eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Yeah, 'course we can," he replied, glancing over at you briefly before looking back at the road. "Where did you wanna go?"

"Doesn't matter," you said, rolling the back of your head against the seat. "Just wanna be with you," you added, softer this time. He looked over at you again, examining your face quickly before focusing back on the road.

"Me too, baby," he said, just as softly.

Joel stopped at a gas station just outside the city to fuel up and stretch your legs. After using the restroom, you wandered up and down the aisles while Joel pumped gas just outside. You were the only one in the store, aside from the sleazy cashier with greasy hair and nicotine stained teeth leering at you every time you crossed his field of vision.

You decided on a couple waters and some sugary pastries and made your way up to the front, forcing a polite smile for the cashier, whose eyes were greedily raking up and down your frame as you approached. You were wearing a modest dress with a cardigan, doing your best to look put together for your appointment, but that didn't stop the cashier's eyes from roaming.

"That all?" he asked as he began to ring you up. You nodded and hummed before glancing out the window, watching as Joel replaced the nozzle on the pump.

"$8.32," he told you, his eyes dropping to your chest as you pulled out a ten dollar bill from your wallet and handed it to him. Your fingertips tapped impatiently on the counter as he slowly counted out your change, clearly trying to prolong the interaction longer than necessary. When it appeared he was ready to hand over the money, you held your hand out, but he pulled your change back a bit and leaned forward.

"You from 'round here?"

"No, just passing through," you said, lifting your hand again, but he clenched your change in his fist.

"What's a pretty girl like you doin' out here all by yourself?" he sneered, his hand dropping below the counter to not so subtly adjust himself in his pants. You made a disgusted face and he smirked.

"She ain't alone," Joel's deep voice rang out from behind you. The cashier's eyes drifted over your shoulder and looked like he was about to make a snide comment when you felt Joel's hand around your waist. His eyes fell to Joel's belt and saw the badge and gun and the smirk he was sporting a moment ago vanished. He quickly handed you back your change and busied himself with organizing the cigarettes while Joel tugged on your waist, urging you to back towards the parking lot.

"And you wanted to drive separate," Joel teased as he led you towards his truck. He opened the passenger door and stepped back so you could get in but you paused and looked up at him. His forehead crinkled as he grinned, his eyes squinting in the sun and all you wanted to do was kiss him and never stop.

"What?" he finally asked when you didn't make a move to get into the car.

"I really want to kiss you right now," you murmured, and you watched the grin slip from his face and his eyes flick down to your mouth.

"We can't," he replied, his voice pained as his gaze continued to drift from your eyes to your lips.

"I know," you sighed. Instead, you stood on your tiptoes to press a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth, your lips lingering a moment longer than you should have before climbing into his truck. His breathing stuttered, the feeling of your lips on his skin again sending him into a tailspin. He took a deep breath and looked up at you in the cab, putting on your seatbelt.

"Soon," he told you, giving your leg a squeeze before closing the door.

"So you mentioned you know some of these lawyers?" you asked him as he drove through downtown Austin.

"Yeah, I've dealt with this law firm a lot on some cases over the years. They're good people, as far as lawyers go," he joked before making a right hand turn. "I asked to meet with one of the women. Her name's Madeline. She's nice. Been there a real long time. Thought you'd feel more comfortable with that," he said, and you nodded.

"Thank you," you told him for maybe the twentieth time that day. You were convinced if not for Joel, you never would have made it this far. You would have had no idea where to even begin, but he knew the answers to all those questions and helped give you the confidence you so desperately needed.

Your hands began to shake and your stomach felt like it was in knots as the two of you walked up to the front doors of the impressive four-story building. Men and women streamed in and out of the doors, most dressed in suits and pencil skirts and talking on their phones hurriedly. You swallowed the lump in your throat once you got to the front of the building, but Joel held the door open for you with a reassuring smile.

"Don't be nervous, it'll be alright," he murmured as you walked up to the large receptionist desk that housed two women with headsets on, typing furiously into their computers. One looked up and caught your eye, giving you a friendly smile.

"Mornin'," Joel said, telling the young woman your name and appointment time. She glanced at her computer and nodded before looking back up at you both with another smile.

"I'll let her know you're here, you can take a seat. It shouldn't be very long," the woman said, casting Joel one more admiring glance before she turned back to her phone and dialed a number.

Joel led you over to some plush couches and chairs and you nervously picked up an old magazine. You skimmed through it, just looking for something to occupy your hands as you waited. He sat down next to you, then inched closer so he could rest his arm along the back of the couch. It felt like he was wrapping his arms around you without actually touching you, and it gave you a temporary sense of peace.

After a few minutes of listening to the receptionists answer the phones and transfer calls, you finally heard your name and Joel's. You both looked up to find a thin, middle aged woman with short, blonde hair and glasses and a kind smile waiting for you.

"Maddy," Joel said warmly, and the hairs on the back of your neck went up. He wouldn't have asked an ex-girlfriend to represent you, would he?

"Joel, long time no see," she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek before introducing herself to you and shaking your hand.

"That's usually a good thing," he reminded her as the two of you followed her down a long hallway, passing by a few empty conference rooms and closed doors that presumably lead to offices.

"Yes, very true," she agreed with a chuckle before stopping in front of her office. She extended an arm, inviting the two of you to enter first before she followed and closed the door behind her.

"How's Tracy?" Joel asked, glancing at a photo on her desk as you sat down.

"She's great. It's our ten year anniversary this summer. We're planning a cruise," she said, settling into her desk chair and shooting you a smile.

Okay, so probably not an ex.

"Alright, let's not waste any time. I know you drove a long way to get here," Madeline said, clasping her hands together on her desk and giving you another smile. She gave off a positive energy, and you could feel yourself loosening up. "I read over everything Joel sent over so I know the basics, and I am so sorry for everything you've had to endure," she said, her eyes softening. "But can you explain to me why you've never tried to come forward before? Trust me, his lawyer will bring it up."

"Well, I have tried," you began, your fingers tangling together in your lap. "I've gone to the police a handful of times but every time I thought I was making progress, Patrick would do something - call in a favor, I don't know," you said with a shrug. "And my police reports magically disappeared. I've gone to the hospital on several occasions-"

"That's right, I did read that. Which hospital?" she asked, picking up a pen, the tip hovering over a legal pad.

"There were a few different ones," you said, then rattled off the names and approximate dates you visited each hospital.

"Okay. We'll reach out and get copies of those records for the trial," she said, dropping the pen and looking at you to continue.

You went on to tell her about your experience with the police back in Philadelphia and how angry Patrick would get after those visits. You told her about his disappearances for days at a time and how he would come home in a haze, no doubt with alcohol and some type of drug in his veins, how those were the times he hurt you the most.

By the time you got to the part in your story where you packed a bag and left Philadelphia during one of Patrick's benders, you felt a lot more at ease. Your nerves were gone and Madeline's comforting gaze made it so much easier to tell her everything.

"So the next step in the process is discovery. Our team here is going to be digging up dirt back in Philly, and I am sure Patrick's lawyer is already doing the same thing," she said, putting down her pen and looking at you over her glasses. "That being said: is there anything I need to know? I don't like surprises in court. I don't care if you ever smoked weed or pushed him back, I just need to know so I can get ahead of it." You quickly shook your head.

"No, I've never tried drugs and I never hit him back." You glanced over at Joel for the first time and found him staring at you with a look in his eye that made you believe you were thinking about the same thing. After a moment, you turned back to Madeline, about to open your mouth to speak when Joel cut you off.

"There's one more thing," he said, sitting up straighter in his chair. She looked at him curiously, clearly not expecting him to have anything to add. "We, uh," he cleared his throat and glanced over at you. "We had a brief, personal relationship," he said. Madeline sat back in her chair and you could have sworn she was glaring at him. "It's over. It was just once," he continued, and you nodded quickly, trying to help him out.

"Nobody knows, either," you told her, drawing her gaze back onto you. "Patrick had his suspicions, but he also accused me of sleeping with two cooks from work, which is untrue," you clarified, "he's just jealous and angry."

"How can you be sure nobody knows?" she asked, and you paused.

"W-well, nobody..." you trailed off, looking at Joel for help.

"It's a small town, Maddy. If people knew, they'd be talkin'. Trust me," he said, rolling his eyes. "The most anyone knows is I had a little crush on her, but nothin' more."

"Besides. Patrick's cheated on me for years. I'm not an idiot, I could smell the perfume on his jacket and found the condom wrappers in his pants pocket," you told her, but she shook her head.

"This is a little different, hun," she said, leaning forward. "Joel's the town sheriff. He arrested Patrick and broke his nose. It's going to look like he had ulterior motives," she said, lifting up a piece of paper in front of her to double check her notes.

"I didn't break his nose, the table broke his nose. It was self-defense. The guy's got nothin'," Joel scoffed.

"Yeah you're probably right, but he's still going to make your life a living hell in court," Madeline said. "You looking for representation, too?"

"What?!" you exclaimed, turning in your seat to look at Joel. "He's suing you?"

"Yeah, it's no big deal. Happens from time to time, nothin' ever comes from it," he said casually.

"Why didn't you tell me?" you asked, your voice softening.

"Didn't wanna worry you. You gotta focus on this," he said, pointing to Madeline. "The other shit doesn't matter."

You wanted to argue with him but you knew your time was running short, so you let it go.

"Well at least you had the good sense not to take her statement," she said, glancing down at the papers before her. "Let's just hope it doesn't come up, and if it does, I'll be prepared," she said, making a note to herself before giving you her attention again. "I'll do my best to fast track this and set a court date. I'll have my team call his superior officer and we'll run some checks on him, call the hospitals, and start building your case. I'll be in touch soon about any potential witnesses you can bring to the stand that you trust. Anybody who might have witnessed Patrick abusing you, even if he was just yelling or twisting your arm. People you confided in. Anybody you might think can help, start thinking about it now and gathering contact info, okay?"

"Okay," you said firmly. You were starting to feel better, like this was the beginning of the end. And you had the feeling that Madeline was the right person to fight for you. She seemed honest and straight forward, understanding yet tough. This was someone who would give you your freedom back.

"And I can get a divorce?" you asked, and she nodded.

"Yes, I'm going to file the petition this afternoon and he will be served the papers," she explained. "If he contests it, we can cross that bridge when we come to it, but I'm hoping with all the fire we're throwing at him, he won't want to put up a fight."

"Thank you," you breathed, feeling even more at ease now that something was actually happening today. Any amount of progress at this point made you feel good.

You stayed another hour to review an endless amount of paperwork: the contract with the law firm, reviewing your statement for any inaccuracies, initialing and dating next to so many paragraphs on the petition to be filed that your eyes were going blurry by the end.

As you both stood up to follow Madeline out of her office, you stopped short.

"Wait, what about payment? I don't think we discussed legal fees in the contract," you said, frowning as you pulled your copy of the contract out from under your arm.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I thought Joel already told you," she said, glancing over at Joel, who dropped his gaze to his shoes. "The partners picked your case pro bono. The firm has to do a certain number each year and Joel suggested to a few of the right people that your case should be considered."

Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped.

"Are you kidding me?" you whispered in shock, trying to fight the tears that were beginning to spring up. You looked at Joel but he averted his gaze before awkwardly clearing his throat.

"It's no big deal-" he began, but you cut him off.

"No, it is a big deal," you told him, and he clamped his mouth shut. Madeline's eyes flicked between the two of you for a moment, watching as you tried and failed to come up with the right words to convey your gratitude.

"The firm is happy to represent you, hun," Madeline said, breaking the silence. "We're gonna make sure this guy gets what's coming to him, understand?"

You tore your eyes away from Joel, who was finding it difficult to look anywhere but the floor.

"Thank you. Thank you so much," you told her, and she smiled before extending her arm towards the door.

As you walked towards the lobby, she was reminding you to expect a call in a few days with an update and to have a list of contacts ready for her, but you just nodded along numbly, barely listening.

Joel had already gone above and beyond by finding you a good lawyer and coming with you for support, but to also convince them to handle your legal fees? He didn't have to do any of this, but he did, and he didn't expect anything in return. Nobody had ever expressed so much concern about you before. And as you walked in silence towards the parking garage, you realized there could only be one explanation. There could only be one reason why he would do so much, and the thought had your heart pounding in your chest.

You drove in silence for a while, the atmosphere in the truck tense. He tried putting music on but you couldn't focus on anything other than everything that happened in the past few hours. Then you started to go back even further: cleaning your apartment and finding you furniture after Patrick vandalized it, walking you home during a rain storm, fixing your fucking sink when you had barely spoken two sentences to him. You rolled your head to the side, watching him as he focused on the freeway, his grip tight around the steering wheel.

"Look at me," you said quietly, and you saw a muscle in his jaw twitch. After too long of a pause, he just said one word.

"Can't."

"Why not?"

"I'm drivin'."

"Bullshit," you said, and watched his throat bob as he swallowed nervously. You continued to stare him down, willing him to look at you, needing to see into his eyes to confirm your suspicion.

"Please, Joel," you finally said, your voice small. You could see the conflict in his face. The way his lips formed a hard line and his brows pinched together as he fought the urge, but once again he found he couldn't say no.

Slowly, he pulled his gaze off the road and forced himself to look at you. Your lips parted as you looked right through him and he knew right then and there he was fucked.

"Pull over," you mumbled, and he just nodded. He could feel the heat of your gaze on him as he took the nearest exit and pulled into a parking lot of what appeared to be an abandoned department store.

He didn't need to ask and you didn't bother to explain.

Once he parked, doing his best to choose a secluded spot, you each ripped off your seatbelts. He reached down to pull the lever below his seat and slid it back as far as it would go and in broad daylight, you climbed over the console to straddle his lap. His hands flew to your hips as you gripped the sides of his face, searching his eyes frantically before your mouth crashed down over his with a moan.

Joel was normally a strong man, but something about you always made him so weak. Weak and selfish and desperate and he wouldn't have it any other way. That's why, even though he knew it was a mistake, he kissed you back. Your tongues tangled together and when your hands slid up to his hair, he was done for. You were too warm and tasted too sweet and felt too fucking good, it was a miracle he came to his senses when your hand dropped down between you to land on his belt and he managed to pull away.

"That's not why I did all this," he said, each of you panting for air. "I didn't do it so I could fuck you."

"I know," you assured him, cupping the back of his neck. "I know why you did it."

He gazed up at you and slowly nodded.

"Reckon it's pretty obvious, huh?" he said softly, toying with the hem of your dress.

You didn't say anything in return. Instead, you lowered your mouth hungrily over his and he happily obliged. And when your hand drifted back down to his belt, he didn't stop you. He couldn't deny it any longer. He tried, he really did, but it was hopeless.

He wouldn't say the words out loud, and you were grateful. Because if he had, you weren't sure you would be able to convince yourself this was a one-time thing. Madeline's disapproving glare was seared into the back of your mind, her comments about Joel's own lawsuit still very much a concern, but when you lowered yourself onto him, each of you groaning your need into each other's mouths as you stretched around him, it all became a distant memory.

"Missed you so much," you mumbled against his skin as your mouth dragged down his jaw. You rolled your hips, slowly at first, but picked up the pace when you remembered you were in the middle of a parking lot and didn't have much time. "You feel so good," you continued, feeling his arms tense around you as he tried to hold himself back. "Think about you all the time. Especially in bed - ah!" you cried out when he began bucking up into you.

"Yeah? You touch yourself when you think about me?" he grunted in your ear, and your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you nodded. His hands gripped your waist, guiding your movements up and down while his mouth ghosted over your chest, wishing more than ever he could glide his tongue over your nipples, but he was too aware of where you were. He settled for yanking the sleeve of your dress down, exposing your shoulder so his teeth and facial hair could leave little red marks, hidden from view.

"Can't get enough of you, can't fuckin' stay away," he groaned, watching as you circled your hips, greedily chasing your own pleasure. Your arm shot out to the side, seeking leverage against the now foggy window, your fingers leaving telltale streaks as your hand slowly dragged downwards so when he got into his truck the next morning, he would see the ghost of your hand in the early morning dew.

"Joel," you whined, tossing your head back while you began to bounce, your ass accidentally beeping the horn and making you both laugh. Nothing could harm you here. Not when you had each other. Not when you had the feel of his rough hands over your skin and his soft lips against your mouth.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his arms wrapped around you, holding you close. "C'mon, baby. Want you to feel me tomorrow," he said, lifting his hips up to meet yours, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

You gasped as your body went rigid, a white hot heat ripping through you while your legs began to shake and you whimpered his name over and over. You heard Joel groan and say something, probably a warning he was close, but you couldn't be sure. You nodded and mumbled some encouragement but your mind was still too fuzzy and your ears were practically ringing from the force of your orgasm. But when his teeth sunk into your shoulder, the slight pain snapped you out of it. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you down firmly onto his lap until his body stilled and he grunted into your skin.

You rested your cheek on the top of his head while his face stayed buried in your chest, both of you fighting for air as reality slowly began to sink in.

"Guess I didn't behave myself," he finally said with a chuckle. You grinned and lazily raised your head up so you could look at him.

"I think I'll take the blame for this one," you said before lifting off of him with a little gasp and moving your underwear back in place. You were about to swing your leg back over to your seat when he stopped you.

"Just another minute," he said, his hands mindlessly sliding up and down your thighs, and you draped your arms around his neck.

"We shouldn't do this again," you finally said, breaking the spell. He sighed and nodded but his hands continued to glide up and down your legs.

"I know."

You cupped his face and tilted his chin up to look at you. Your thumbs brushed over his cheeks as you stared into his eyes, still seeing everything he didn't have the courage to say. Leaning down, you pressed a tender kiss against his lips, then rested your foreheads together.

"Thank you, Joel."

"You're welcome, baby."

As promised, a few days later, Madeline's secretary reached out for a list of contacts that could be called upon to support your case. You didn't have many people in your corner, but you gave her your cousin's information back in Philadelphia, an old co-worker who you had partially confided in when the abuse started, a few friends who had noticed bruises but you had made up excuses for them at the time, and you reluctantly gave your mother's information, with the note to discuss with you first before contacting her.

You had hoped Madeline wouldn't want to call on your mother to testify. You hadn't spoken to her since you ran away to Texas, and given the way she responded when you told her what Patrick was doing, you weren't confident she would be a good witness. But it was still someone from your past who you confided in, and that was what Madeline was looking for: a trail of evidence, cries for help, anything to prove the most recent incident was not a one off situation.

"Madeline called me today," you told Joel after picking up his empty plate.

"Oh, yeah?" he asked, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

"She reviewed all the contacts I gave to her secretary and she scheduled another appointment for next week."

"Great, what day?" he asked, pulling out his phone.

"Tuesday," you said, replacing his coffee with a glass of ice water. He glanced up at you and quirked an eyebrow. "You drink too much caffeine," you explained, and he grinned.

"Ah, shit. I have a thing at Sarah's school that day. Lemme see if I can reschedule it-"

"No, go to Sarah's school, I wasn't telling you so you would come with me, I was just... letting you know," you said with a shrug.

"You sure?" he questioned, and you nodded.

"I'm sure. I know how to get there now and I feel comfortable with Madeline. I swear, I'll be fine," you told him. He put his phone down on the counter and thought for a moment before leaning forward and lowering his voice.

"This ain't 'bout what happened last time, is it?"

"No!" you said in surprise, and he looked relieved. "Not at all. I'm just trying to... I don't know, take control of my life, I guess?" He nodded but he still looked confused. "What I mean is, I think it's important I do some things for myself. Not that I don't appreciate-"

"I get it," he said with a chuckle as he stood up from his stool. "You just let me know if you change your mind."

"Okay," you replied with a smile, but stopped him when you realized he hadn't touched his water. You held the glass out to him and he stared at it, then looked at you with a sigh before plucking it from your grip and downing the whole thing in one gulp.

"Happy?"

"Very," you said with a grin, and watched him as he walked towards the front door, stopping briefly to chat with Maria before heading back to work.

Joel shoved his hands into the pockets of his dress pants as he walked back to the station, nodding to a few people along the way. He couldn't stop his gaze from traveling up to the window above the pizza place every time he walked by, smiling to himself when he noticed a new plant in your window.

The bullpen sounded quiet as Joel made his way back to his office. He liked quiet days. That was always a good day, in his book. He sat down in his chair with a huff, the little orange light on his desk phone blinking angrily at him, indicating a voicemail. He picked up the phone and punched in his passcode. He was reaching for a pen when the voice on the other end of the phone made him freeze.

"Joel, it's Maddy. Give me a call back when you get this, it's urgent."

Taglist: @harriedandharassed@merz-8@sarap-77@nandan11@anoverwhelmingdin@fandomscollide@survivingandenduring@honeyedmiller@pedropascalsbbg@southernbe@pedrosfanny@gobaaby-blog-blog @eloquentdreamer @yomiyasxx @mrsparknuts@missladym1981@spacedoutdaydreamer @cosmic006533-blog @prettyinpunk85@maried01 @sunnyskyapplepie @sawymredfox@gobaaby-blog-blog@stevie75@mxtokko@sleepylunarwolf@lizzie-cakes@laurrrra@annieispunk@here4thedilfs @navystandardheatingoilcap @slugz-writes-shit@devilbat@ashleyfilm@scp116@tragerlover@iveseenstrangerthings50 @yvonneeeee @brittmb115@lulawantmula@abbysgirlll@ro-nahime-things@whxtedreams@ashhlsstuff@little-pookie@serenadingtigers@paleidiot@ashy-kit@lizlil@detectivejuliuspepperwood@buckyispunk @fckinel @sarahhxx03 @krispeenuggiez @flippittygibbitts@picketniffler@pedroslittlelady

Please follow @punkshort-notifs for fic updates

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

Shaking (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have an anxiety attack in a public setting, but luckily, the doctor is there to help you through it.

Word Count: 2450

Warnings: Anxiety attack, mild cursing, mostly just ANGST and then comforting FLUFF

A/N: Wanted to write Spence comforting the reader during a panic attack. Fanfiction is better than therapy, right? At least, it’s cheaper! Also not my GIF

——

“You don’t want to just order it online?” Spencer asked as you walked beside him down the sidewalk. His longer legs would typically mean that he’d be several steps ahead of you, but he always slowed his pace so you wouldn’t have to strain to keep up with him. He also walked on the outside of the path because, let’s face it, he was a gentleman.

You shook your head. “No, I want the whole experience,” you said excitedly as you walked, your face lighting up in anticipation. You were on your way towards a local bookstore, where the third book in your favorite series was being released today. The bookstore was going to be packed, but you were so excited to be one of the first ones in the door, to get your hands on a physical copy. “I don’t ever do things like this, but it’ll be something I think about every time I look at the book sitting on my shelf.”

Spencer nodded, lifting his hand, his thumb and forefinger in an O-shape as he spoke. “Ah, the age-old concept of symbolic treasures. One of the main reasons why souvenirs are such a prevalent part of going on vacation. Did you know the tradition dates back to Ancient Egypt?”

You shook your head as you continued to walk with him. Your boyfriend carried on without fault. “As far back as 2200 B.C, Egyptian Prince Harkhuf traveled to what is now known as Sudan and returned with all sorts of objects to present to his father, the pharaoh,” Spencer explained. His words spat out quickly, compulsively, as though they had to exit his encyclopedic brain. “He brought back items such as incense, ivory, even the skins of leopards to show off to his father.”

“I had no idea,” you told Spencer as you neared the bookstore, smiling sideways at him. You loved it when he spouted off facts like that, like he had to get the information out or else he’d explode. He had confessed to you more than once before that most people found it weird or off-putting or even annoying, but not you. Rather, you loved learning new things. Whatever information he had to share with you was always relevant in one way or another, and it was just one of the reasons why you loved spending time with him - he made you a more knowledgeable, well-rounded person.

Before either of you could say much else, you’d reached the back of the line of the bookstore. You checked the time on your phone. The store would open in about fifteen minutes. The line stretched down at least a full block, from what you could see. Lots of people dressed like characters from the books, shuffling their feet in excited anticipation.

There were at least a hundred people in the line, and after a minute or two, a couple dozen more had filed in behind where you stood. You pursed your lips for a moment, scanning the crowd until your eyes met Spencer’s.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, inclining his head to the side.

You shook your head. “Nothing,” you said. “Just… lot of people.”

Spencer nodded understandingly, then reached down to take your hand. Your fingers twined with his and he squeezed his palm against yours. “I’m right here,” he reminded you. You didn’t love crowds. They always made you feel anxious, perhaps even a little claustrophobic. You and Spencer had gone to a fairly crowded French film festival a few months ago and there hadn’t been an organized line to enter; rather, it had been a cluster of people, all pressed together. And you had felt like you couldn’t breathe. Spencer’d had to pull you to a seat off to the side so you could catch your breath, and you’d missed getting a seat up front like you’d been hoping for.

Right now, you were okay, though. There were people in front of you and behind you, but they weren’t flush against you like they had been waiting for the film festival to open. And Spencer was holding your hand, and you were outside, with the cool, spring morning breeze hitting your face. It was fine. You were going to be fine. You inhaled deeply and exhaled, then nodded your head, feeling the anxiety dissipate. “I’m good,” you told Spencer, looking up at him.

Spencer nodded. He squeezed your hand once again before letting go, only so he could wrap his arm around your shoulders and tug you so you leaned against his chest. He kissed the top of your hair. “It’s going to be just fine,” he promised you, and you just smiled to yourself.

About ten minutes later, the store opened. You only knew that because the line started moving, and more quickly than you thought. You squealed in delight and matched the pace of the people in front of you, Spencer by your side with an amused grin on his face. He loved books just as much as you did, if not more, but this outing was definitely just for you. He’d read the other preceding books in this series (literally just because you asked him to and it took him an hour, tops), but he wasn’t a total geek for it like you were.

You finally made it inside the bookstore, a small business, a local place. You’d been inside several times before, but you hadn’t realized just how small the building actually was until you stepped in now. It was two stories, but everyone was tightly packed, with the people and the bookshelves crowding around you as you made it fully inside the store. There was even a line to go up to the second floor, like a queue at an amusement park.

There was little to no breathing room. Everyone was talking as they waited their turn to grab a copy of the new book, and the sound seemed to bounce off the walls and the ceiling and smack you right in the ear. The air felt thick despite the front door and handful of windows being opened, allowing the cool spring breeze to ruffle the pages of the paperbacks on display.

But it wasn’t refreshing. Rather, it was another stimulant that caused the neurons in your brain to fire even faster. You felt your palms get slick. You felt your heart start to pound, and your knees wobble as you shuffled forward in the line. What were you even waiting in line for? You momentarily forgot, blinking a few times before looking up at the man beside you. Spencer was engrossed in looking around the bookstore, the corners of his mouth quirking upward as he seemed to find something amusing. But when his eyes came full circle back to you, they were immediately filled with concern. “Y/N?” He asked softly, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You couldn’t even hear him. The sound of his voice just bounced off your brain, like you were trapped inside of cellophane. All you could think was trapped. I’m trapped. No way out. Stuck. Caged. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe.

You felt your breathing go heavy, and your eyes fill up with tears. Your cheeks were red, bright red, judging from how hot you suddenly felt. “Leave,” you managed to choke out, your voice coming out from your throat. It felt like your throat was lined with thorns, like the words you wanted to say kept getting caught.

Spencer nodded. “Leave? Yeah. Yeah, baby, we can leave,” Spencer grabbed your hand, tugging you along behind him as he murmured “excuse me, pardon me,” to the other patrons, to get through the crowd. Moving against the crowd was so much worse than standing still. All those eyes on you, seeing your red face and the anxious tears trickling down your cheeks. It was so embarrassing, freaking out like this is such a public space. Everyone thinks I’m a freak, you thought. Your anxiety became not about the crowd, but about your anxiety, about how you were being perceived. Your breathing picked up, quickened, and by the time Spencer led you out into the morning sun, you were fully hyperventilating.

The thoughts in your head were racing at the speed of light. You hated feeling nervous like this, but moreover, you hated that Spencer had to take care of you because of it. You felt like you had ruined the day because your head wasn’t on straight, because you couldn’t stand in a crowd of people and hear the cacophony of voices and tamp down your panic.

Spencer led you down the block, about twenty feet from the store, away from the crowd, and your breath was still coming out staccato, unstable as you looked down at your shaking hands. You were crying and hyperventilating and the whole world felt like it was spinning. Spencer kept his hold on your hand and stood in front of you, squeezing his palm against yours. His eyes, those light brown irises with little flecks of green, stared into yours. “Hey, Y/N,” he said, bending his knees so his face was level with yours. “Breathe with me, okay?”

You shook your head, your eyes clamping shut. You were so mad at yourself in that moment. You didn’t want to have Spencer take care of you, to have to drag you out of a bookstore because you were having a panic attack. “Baby, you’re trembling,” you heard Spencer’s voice laced with concern. “Look at me. We’ll get through this together.”

You opened your eyes slowly, and that’s when you realized your entire body was shaking. You looked into Spencer’s eyes and he released your hand so he could cup your face. His fingers anchored under your jaw, his thumbs rested on your cheeks, and his eyes were wide, full of worry, but his voice managed to stay soothing and calm. “Follow my breath, Y/N. Do what I’m doing, okay? In for four, hold for four, out for four.”

He inhaled for 4 seconds, and you tried to follow his lead, but you just couldn’t control your lungs. “It’s okay,” he assured you as your brows furrowed, presenting frustration. “C’mon, try again.” He inhaled for 4 seconds, and you managed to match him this time. “Hold for four,” you held your breath while Spencer counted. “And out for four,” you exhaled deeply. “Good, okay, let’s do it again.”

Spencer guided your breath for a few minutes, until you finally felt like you could do it on your own. And when you finally felt yourself coming down from the rush of panic that had sent you into fight-or-flight, you wiped at your wet eyes. “I’m sorry,” you croaked, and Spencer just shook his head.

“No,” he insisted, taking your hand and placing it on his heart. You could feel it beating through his long-sleeved t-shirt. “No, you don’t have to be sorry.” You rubbed your hand against his chest, finding it comforting as you hung your head. “Baby, look at me,” he requested, and you met his eyes.

“Please don’t ever apologize for having an anxiety attack, okay? For one thing, it’s not your fault. You can’t control the chemicals and waves in your brain and how your body reacts to situations,” Spencer began, his hand on top of yours that rested on his chest. You nodded, using the heel of your free hand to wipe away your tears. The crying was over, you were fairly certain, but god, did this suck. “You also should never feel ashamed for having a panic attack, Y/N. It happened, and we’re working through it. It’s a lot like boiling a pot of water, isn’t it?”

You let out a garbled sounding laugh and your brows furrowed. “How so?” You stammered out.

“Well, you set the pot of water on the stove, right?” Spencer began, and you nodded. “And then when it starts to bubble, that’s your anxiety. Some sort of external stimulant - the stove, or, in your case, the overwhelming feeling of being in a crowd - is causing the water to bubble. And when the external stimulant increases in intensity, so too does your anxiety. And sometimes, yeah, the pot boils over.” Spencer shrugged like it was no big deal. “But then you just turn the stove off, grab a dishtowel, and clean up the mess. Problem solved.”

You cracked a half-hearted smile. “So in this metaphor, you’re a dishtowel?” You asked, curling your fingers around the fabric of his shirt.

“Technically, I think it’s a simile, but yes,” Spencer grinned as he looked in your eyes.

“But the book,” you sighed, looking back at the bookstore, which was still filtering people in and out slowly. The patrons leaving the store clutched their new copies of the book in their hands, grinning and taking pictures with their phones, laughing with their friends excitedly.

“Do you want to get back in line and try again?” Spencer asked, and you bit your cheek pensively.

“I don’t think so,” you said softly, defeatedly.

“That’s okay,” Spencer said. You loved that he wasn’t coddling you, he was just feeling it out, seeing what you were up for. “Do you want to get brunch somewhere and come back? Maybe the line will have died down by then?”

You nodded, your lips curling into a small smile. “Yeah,” you agreed. You realized your hand was still over his heart, rubbing at his chest. Your movement halted and you retracted your hand, but before your arm could fall completely at your side, Spencer scooped your hand up and kissed the back of your palm. “What if we come back and they’ve sold out of the book, though?” You asked as Spencer walked with you in the direction of one of your favorite brunch places, just a short walk from the bookstore.

“There are twenty-two independent bookstores in the D.C. metropolitan area alone,” Spencer rattled off. “If this one doesn’t have it, we’ll drive around until we find one that does.”

“What article did you read that told you how many bookstores were in D.C?” You asked. You often liked to challenge him by asking him to cite his sources.

“No article. I did a search on Google Maps last night,” Spencer explained.

“What, because you knew I’d freak out when we walked into this one?” You asked him.

Spencer shook his head. “No, just wanted to have a contingency plan in case our first stop sold out before we got there.”

“Always thinking ahead, huh, Boy Wonder?”

“Damn straight.” A smirk formed across Spencer’s lips.

You shook your head. “You’re the best dishtowel a girl could ask for.”

[vivwritesfics]

Dreaming Of It All

One particularly bad crash lands her in hospital, out for the count. Max, Lando and Charles visit her every single day. While she's out the reader lives several different lives. The one thing they all have in common? Her boys

Max Verstappen x Reader, Lando Norris x reader, Charles Leclerc x reader

The First Part The Second Part

"We've tried Harry Potter and Marvel. What's next?" Lando asked as he sat on the end of the hospital bed.

Charles shrugged his shoulders. He had read all of the Harry potter books and, as far as he was aware, she hadn't had any reaction to them. He didn't know what was happening in her head, the delusions she was living out.

"What was that book series she was always reading while we were karting?" Max said suddenly. "She was obsessed. She'd start reading it as soon as we were off the track," he said.

Charles's eyebrows were furrowed as he thought. "Wait," he muttered. "You mean Percy Jackson?"

He and Lando were out searching for copies of the Percy Jackson books that afternoon.

***

"What're we doing here?" She asked as she walked with Lando and Charles, her arm linked through Max's. "And, where are we?"

Max chuckled. "What do you mean? We're at the track," he said.

Nothing was very clear. Team names and logos were a blur. "Wait, Max," she called softly and he stopped walking, allowing her a chance to look around. But it was as if as soon as she looked away from something, she forgot about all of the details.

There was a car, a red one. She couldn't see much more than the colours. It didn't look like a regular car, but it was incredibly familiar as it came racing towards them at impossible speeds. "Max!" She cried and tried to pull him out of the path.

But he stayed where he was and held her tight, keeping her in the path of the speeding race car. Suddenly it wasn't a car. it was transformed into a bull. The Cretan Bull.

She reached for her sword, disguised as a pen (creative i know, forgive me) and uncapped it. But it was just a regular pen. Her sword didn't appear like it should have, leaving them at the mercy of the Cretan Bull.

She woke with a start in the darkness of the Athena cabin. Her siblings around her were still asleep as she climbed out of bed and pulled her boots onto her feet. Her siblings stayed asleep while she crept her way out of the cabin.

There was one place she knew to go. In the furthest cabin, the darkest cabin of them all, was her best friend, the person she had been dreaming about. Max was alone in the Hades cabin, a cabin that had only become his a few months prior.

Before that Max was an unclaimed kid in the Hermes cabin. It was only when a young camper, the son of Poseidon, went to Tartarus, that Max found himself claimed. He hadn't wanted to move to the Hades cabin, hadn't wanted to be alone.

Maybe that was why Y/N found herself going to see him whenever she could.

It was rare that Max was sleeping. He had managed to get gaming consoles into his cabin as soon as he moved out of the Hermes cabin. It was one way to cure loneliness, she supposed.

Y/N knocked on the cabin door. There was a little wait before Max pulled it open and welcomed her in. "What's up?" He asked as he led her back over to his gaming console. Of course, he was playing a football game and he looked to be winning. "Can't sleep again."

"You know it," she said and sat on the sofa behind him.

The Hades cabin was admittedly creepy. She didn't understand how Max lived in such a place. But he himself was warmth and she could stomach the Hades cabin if it meant being around him.

"Wanna talk about it?" He offered, turning in his chair. He hadn't yet unpaused his game, all of his attention on her.

She shook her head and Max scooted back in his chair. He patted her thighs and she stood from the sofa, walking over to him.

They weren't together, but they most of the campers thought they were. They didn't do much to dispel the rumours, though. This much was clear when she climbed into his lap and laid her head against her chest.

Max made sure she was comfortable before he resumed playing his game. She fell asleep like that, warm and safe from the nightmares that came with being a demigod in his arms.

When the kids in the Athena cabin couldn't find her the next morning, they knew exactly where she would be. With Max Verstappen, son of Hades. He had just two friends: Charles Leclerc, son of Aphrodite, and Lando Norris, son of Hermes.

They knocked on the door of the Hermes cabin, startling Y/N and Max awake. She jumped out of Max's arms and sat on the sofa as he went to open the door. "What do you want?" He asked, half asleep.

Sleep hadn't been very comfortable for either of them. But they hadn't minded, not when they were pressed together.

Lando pushed past him, leading Charles into the cabin. He stopped when he saw Y/N, tipped his head to the side, but shook it off and sat beside her. "We were thinking of sneaking out," Lando said as he placed his arm over Y/N's shoulder.

"Call me the brains of the operation, but why would we go outside of the camp where the monsters are waiting or us?" Y/N asked as she leaned against Lando, making herself comfortable again.

Lando shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. Boredom, glory, attention from our parents," he said and Charles nodded in agreement.

"C'mon guys," he said to her and Max. "Please can we go?"

Suddenly they couldn't say no time him. Charles didn't know about the power he had. He didn't use it often, and didn't realise when he was.

Y/N returned to her cabin. She and Max got themselves ready. They dressed in the orange camp shirt and grabbed what weapons they had. Once ready the two of them met back up with Charles and Lando and they set off, sneaking their way out of camp.

Turns out, they were actively seeking out Monsters. Y/N hadn't expected it, but they really were walking around, looking for something they could kill. She supposed practicing on something alive, able to fight back, was better than the repetitive training they did at camp.

It wasn't long before they found one. Charles, Y/N and Max sat back as Lando took care of it, wearing a grin on his face.

The next monster Y/N and Max took down together. They always worked well as a team. The monster disappeared into dust before their very eyes.

"Do you guys remember the way back to camp?" Asked Y/N as they trekked through the woods. They had gone this way and that, and the way back to camp was no longer clear.

Suddenly she was thrown against the tree, the wind knocked out of her. "Y/N!" Max shouted as he ran after her. Lando and Charles jumped into action as Max helped her to her feet. Fucking minotaurs.

"I'm fine," she said as she grabbed her sword from the floor.

She and Max charged, swords brandished. The minotaur was no easy opponent, but the four of them worked hard. Sweat was on their brows as they swung their swords. Y/N and Max worked side by side until it was no more than dust on the floor.

Max dropped his sword. "Fuck," he breathed out as he walked over to her. Max grabbed a gentle hold of her head and checked her over for any injuries. "You're okay," he said to himself. "You're okay."

He cradled her head against his chest, his eyes falling shut.

Suddenly they were no longer in the woods. Again they were on the track, the cars out of focus, team names and sponsors unidentifiable. Max was in a blue suit and she herself was in a red one. "Max. What the fuck is going on?" She whispered as she wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him tight. "I..."

Still he held her head and kissed her forehead. "It's okay, lieveling," he said. "You just need to wake up."

Suddenly they were back in the woods, all four of them in their Camp shirts. "Guys, please. I'm so scared."

"Wake up," the three of them said together as she fell to the floor. "Wake up."

***

After weeks of nothing, her eyes flew open.

"Y/N!" The three boys cried as they rushed over to her bed, her hospital bed. Shit, it all came flooding back. The car hadn't been right for the entire day, but she pushed on. The team needed points and she needed her first championship. That was such a big mistake.

She looked at all four boys. "I dreamt of all of you," she said as she looked at Max, Lando and Charles. "We were superheroes, and then we were wizards, and then we were demigods."

The boys smiled to each other. Those were what they were using to keep her entertained while she was out. It only made sense that her subconscious would do something like this.

"In each new dream I was dating at least one of you."

"That makes sense," Lando said as he took her hand and squeezed. She squeezed back. He'd wanted this and nothing else every day for the last few weeks. "We are your boyfriends, after all."

She looked at them all, at the way they smiled at her. "Oh yeah. You are."

Max and Charles leaned in to kiss her, but she held her hand up, blocking them. "I don't think I've brushed my teeth in weeks. I love you guys but I'm not kissing you."

Permanent Taglist: @biancathecool @rewmuslupin @prettiest-at-the-party @hellowgoodbye @minkyungseokie @formulaal @darleneslane @hiireadstuff @urfavnoirette @goldenharrysworld @andydrysdalerogers @hrts4scarr @llando4norris @honethatty12

Taglist: @hollie911 @dreaminofpoison

[flemingsfreckles]

Physio’s Daughter Part 12

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Read the rest of the series here!

Warnings: cursing, mentions of sex

WC: 4.5k

A/N: this is the final chapter in this “present” time frame. The next and actual final chapter will be more of an epilogue. If you skipped the smut chapter i tried to make sure I reiterated everything that was plot related so that you don’t feel like anything is missing from the storyline.

You’re woken up by the bed shifting. You roll and adjust a few times before cracking open your eyes, you squint at the harsh sunlight coming in before rolling over to see Jessie already awake. She’s sitting up, back against the headboard, book in her hands. She’s got the blanket pulled up, just covering her chest but leaving her collarbones exposed.

After the two of you had showered you went to lay in bed. You had thrown on a pair of underwear and almost put on a shirt before remembering previous texts you and Jessie had sent months ago. You asked if she’d be comfortable with you sleeping shirtless, she had no problem with it and much to your surprise she never put on a shirt either. The two of you cuddled skin to skin and this time you held her, your legs tangled together and your arm slung across her midsection as you both fell asleep.

She puts down the book she’s reading when she sees you’re awake. “Hi.” She says leaning over to be closer to you. Her hair is messy, her smile is soft, she looked so beautiful, you couldn’t believe you were finally waking up in her bed while she was still in it.

“Hi.” You smile back at her. You run your fingers through your own hair, trying to somewhat control it.

“How are you? Are you alright?” As she asks Jessie puts the book onto the nightstand and shifts to bring herself back into a lying position so she is face to face with you.

“I’m good.” That was a lie, you were more than good, you were waking up, after a night of sex, good sex, with Jessie. You had gotten to spend a couple hours with her body on yours and yours on hers, the two of you tangled in the bedsheets, your name on her lips. You got to enjoy every aspect of her and then all over again in the shower. You both had also agreed to keep going on dates, to keep seeing each other. You were on cloud nine. But you didn’t know if Jessie felt the same, so you say you’re good. “How are you?”

“I’m good, I feel good about last night.” Her eyes trail to your neck at the mention of last night's activities.

“Yeah, the sex was good.” You wanted to know more than just about the sex though. “Um, do you still feel good about what we talked about? If not that’s okay, if it was just something you said in a post orgasm haze I get it, but-”

“Yes, I still feel good about that. That wasn’t just the orgasm talking, I want to try this, try us.”

“Me too.” You say and Jessie leans in, putting her lips to yours bringing you into a slow make out. Her hands quickly find their way to your stomach. Her fingers dance along your sides, moving upward toward your chest. A knock on the door has her hands quickly off of your skin and you jumping at the startling noise.

“Ughhh.” Jessie groans when she pulls her lips off of yours. She moves quickly to grab a shirt and a pair of shorts before throwing a shirt in your direction. “That’s probably Janine. Your pants are over there if you want them before she comes in.” Not wanting Janine to see you in your underwear you scramble to the other side of the room where the blue sweatpants you had worn the first night you slept over were. You tossed them on and sat back down on the bed as Jessie made her way to the door.

“What the hell do you need makeup for? First of all when do you ever wear makeup? Second, we’re getting on a flight in like 8 hours.” You hear Janine question Jessie as the door closes behind her.

You don’t hear Jessie respond from where you sat on the bed and you quickly see them both come around the corner. Jessie makes quick eye contact with you before she steps out of the way and reveals you to Janine. Janine looks at you for one second, her eyes immediately widen as they catch the deep red color on your neck.

“Oh my.” Janine is quickly bent over in front of you and Jessie, clutching her stomach laughing hysterically. “That’s-” she tries to speak but falls into another fit of laughter when she looks at your neck again. When she stands back up this time you can see the tears from laughing in her eyes. “Oh this is too fucking good.” The smile on her face is massive. She’s still laughing.

“Janinnnne.” Jessie whines. “Stop laughing.” She frowns at her friend, crossing her arms, unamused by the fact that Janine finds the hickey hilarious.

“No. I can laugh. I’m here to help, I’m allowed to laugh. If you wanted somebody who wouldn’t laugh you should’ve called someone else.” Janine says as she plops down the bag she brought onto the desk. And she then walks over to you and grabs your chin to tilt your head up. She chuckles again before looking over to Jessie. “Goddamn Jeff, seriously what the hell were you thinking?”

“It was an accident!” Jessie throws her arms out.

Not believing her story Janine rolls her eyes before she walks over to her makeup bag, grabbing a tube and comes back over to you. “Oh was it? I’m sorry, did she trip and fall and her neck ended up on your lips?”

“That's not what I meant.” Jessie huffs and her arms return to being crossed harshly over her chest. She finds her way to bed sitting down next to you.

“I know that’s not what you meant, but also obviously that,” she gestures to your neck, “isn’t an accident.” She continues placing a cream over the area. Janine is still letting out small laughs when she looks at the way both you and Jessie are blushing hard.

“It was! I didn’t think I was sucking that hard.” Jessie continued to try and defend her actions.

“But you were sucking. You should know better, idiot, put them somewhere they can be covered.” You look over to the side, you felt bad for Jessie this was equally your fault, she shouldn’t be taking all the teasing.

“It’s my fault too, I bruise easily, and she did put them where they can be covered too, in her defense.” You finally speak. You watch as Jessie’s eyes quickly dart down to your chest, where those covered hickeys were. She bites her lip to hold in the smile that is trying to come across her face.

Janine’s mouth drops as she watches the way Jessie’s eyes move down and back up. “Gross. I still can not believe you’re 26 giving hickeys.”

Jessie drops her head into her palms and lets out a frustrated groan. “Can we stop with the parenting lecture? This is your fault too for pretty much encouraging us to do this.”

“No way this is my fault.” Janine takes her hands off of your face and neck for a second, looking offended at Jessie.

“You let us have the room to ourselves.” Jessie gestures to the bed and the room.

“Yeah but I didn’t tell you two to go fuck.” She says before turning back toward the desk to grab something else from her bag.

“You sort of did.” Jessie says.

When Janine turns back from the desk looking confused, you fill her in on the details she clearly lost to the drinks she had that night. “At the after party, you made some suggestions, and comments to both of us, but you had been drinking so…”

“Oh.”

“Can we please change the subject to something besides what we did last night?” Jessie asks.

“Sure, but just to be clear with both of you, I cannot promise this will be completely covered. I’ll do my best though.” Janine goes back to putting in work on your neck, she and Jessie fall into a conversation about Portland and you just sit there hoping that Janine will be able to blend in the hickey well enough that no one would be able to notice.

Of course, despite Janine’s efforts, you still had to answer questions regarding your evening regardless if the hickey was visible. Olivia was the first to ask about your whereabouts as soon as you got through the hotel room door.

“Given you didn’t come home, is it fair to assume your little date went well?” She asked as she was packing up camera equipment, her clothes still sprawled across her bed, not packed.

“Um, yeah, you could say that.” You can feel yourself blushing. Olivia looks up from the bed, eyebrow raised at you. She studies your face for a second and then begins shouting at you.

“Oh my god, you got laid! Did you and Jessie have sex?!”

“Shhhh.” You put your finger to your lips. “I don’t need the whole city knowing.”

Olivia’s face of shock doesn’t change. “You actually did?”

You give her a small nod, diverting your eyes to the floor, suddenly feeling shy about how your night went. “She really liked the whole sitting on the pitch thing, and then we had the picnic and we kissed, and then she offered for me to sleep over again, and yeah, that happened. So thank you, I owe you one for that. Here’s your badge by the way.” You dig the badge out of your backpack and pass it to her.

“So was the sex good? I mean given your chipper mood, I’m assuming it was good.” She continues to pack her bags.

You feel your face burning up as Olivia pries. “It was good, but that’s all you get to know. And it wasn’t just the sex Olivia, we agreed to keep seeing each other, to go on more dates, I’m not really sure where that leaves us, but.” You didn’t want to go around sharing too many details about your evening with Jessie when the two of you hadn’t had a ton of time to talk about what it meant or how you would deal with telling people.

“That’s really exciting! The sex and the other stuff. Especially since the second we land back in Canada, you’re off your contract, you and her can do whatever you want.”

“Yeah, we’ll see how it goes.” You shrug at her before pulling out your own suitcase and starting to fold your clothes. You didn’t want to get your hopes up too high, you never knew how things could turn out.

It's not long before you’re loading your luggage onto the bus to head to the airport. You stay outside, helping load everyone’s bags including your Mom's.

She walks up to you, coffee in one hand and luggage in the other. “Have a good last night in Paris?”

“Yeah I did.” You try to think of anything except what your night actually entailed, you didn’t need to be a blushing mess in front of your Mom, it would give everything away. “Did you?”

“Good, good and yeah I did.” You notice her eyes drift to your neck for a moment and you think she’s about to bust your coverup in front of everyone but instead she hands you her bag and thanks you for helping. You breathe a sigh of relief as it seems she didn’t notice the makeup, knowing she would’ve made a comment about it to you if she had.

You watch Jessie walk out of the hotel, her own bags trailing behind her. Her eyes catch yours and she gives you a smile. It was a simple smile but it had your stomach fluttering. You watch her put her bags away before getting on her assigned bus. You’d only not seen her for a few hours but you were ready to be cuddled up next to her again, you wanted to just lay in bed with her, her skin on yours, your head on her chest, listening to her heartbeat while she ran fingers through your hair and down you back. You wanted to by lying there playing with her hands, your fingers interlacing with hers, gently scratching her palm, drawing circles across her skin.

The ride to the airport was uneventful and before you knew it you were through security and wandering through the terminals to find caffeine that you were desperately in need of. You find a coffee shop and hop in line before opening your phone to make sure you had enough music downloaded for the flight.

“Did I keep you up too late last night and now you need some caffeine?” You don’t even need to turn to see who it is, you know her voice but you turn anyway just to see her smile, her freckles, just her.

“Yeah, something like that.” You turn to look at the menu again. “I also just like coffee.” You say shrugging.

“Hey what’s your seat number?” Jessie clicks on her phone to show you her boarding pass.

“7C, where are you?” You check your own boarding pass before leaning over to read off her phone.

“Damn, 4B.” She says.

“Hey we got lucky on the way here, odds are it wouldn’t happen twice.” The line moves ahead of you and you order yourself a coffee before turning back toward Jessie.

“I’ll get hers as well.” You point to Jessie who squints at you before you gesture for her to move up and order. She orders quickly before quietly thanking you.

The two of you wait for your coffee in silence. You’re not sure why but there’s a tension, a feeling of unease in the silence. Your name gets called and you grab your coffees, handing Jessie hers, before turning to find a seat, Jessie follows. “Do you mind?” She points to the seat next to you.

“Go ahead.”

“I just wanted to talk, I should’ve found you at the hotel before we left, would’ve been more private.” She breathes out as she sits. The way she glances around almost to check if any of her teammates or anyone she knows is around makes you nervous. You feel a pit in your stomach.

“Oh.”

Jessie shakes her head as she swallows her sip of coffee. “It’s nothing bad! I just wanted to see where your head was at as far as what was happening when we’re back.”

Her reassurance puts you at ease but you’re still not quite sure what she means. “Um, well, I’m home for about a week before school starts up again. And then I’ll pretty much be there until winter and I’ll come home for break to see my Mom and then it’s back to school again.”

“I meant as far as us.” Jessie places her hand on top of yours that’s resting on the table before quickly pulling it back when she notices you looking down at your hands.. “Are you planning on seeing other people? Dating around at school? I get if you don’t want to commit to long distance or anything like that after only one date, I just wanted to see where your head was at.”

“I wasn’t planning on seeing other people, I don’t have interest in other people. Were you? Planning to see other people?”

“I also wasn’t planning on it.”

“Cool.” You swirl your coffee in your hand, not sure where to go with this conversation. It had always seemed effortless to talk to Jessie but now you were scared to say the wrong thing.

“Yeah.”

“So does that mean we’re…?” You don’t finish your sentence, you didn’t want to assume you were just seeing each other nothing formal and give Jessie the wrong impression but you also didn’t want to jump to relationship and make her uncomfortable.

“Dating? Yeah I’d say so.” She shrugs and takes another sip of her coffee while looking at you.

“Right but does that mean I get to call you my girlfriend, or are we not there yet?” You watch her facial expression carefully, the mention of girlfriend doesn’t seem to scare her, she blinks a few extra times and she glances off to the side, but she doesn’t look scared.

“You can call me your girlfriend, but only if I get to call you mine.” Jessie’s hand comes up to her face and she rubs her palm along the side, one of her nervous habits.

“So we’re girlfriends.” You state it like it’s a fact you’ve always known despite only deciding you were dating a couple of seconds ago. You can’t help but smile as the official label rolls off your tongue.

“Girlfriends.” Jessie repeats back to you with a smile.

You and Jessie sit until your coffees are finished and then you both make your way back to the waiting area. You let Jessie leave first, the two of you had talked more and agreed to keep the relationship quiet for now. You didn’t want to draw any attention to the two of you by coming back at the same time. The rest of the waiting time goes relatively quick. You sit, playing on your phone, talking, and stealing glances at Jessie who was usually chatting with Janine or Jade. You caught her looking back at you a few times, you’d both quickly look away when you made eye contact only to let your eyes wander back to each other a second later. You’re too busy staring you don’t notice the boarding announcement until you watch Jessie stand up and grab her bag.

You get in line walking down the jet bridge when you feel a tap on your shoulder.

“Here.” Your Mom is behind you holding her ticket in her outstretched hand.

“What do you want me to hold it?” You offer, taking the ticket from her, figuring she had to adjust her bag or something.

“No, swap seats with me.” Her hand is out waiting for you to give her your ticket. You look down at her ticket. Seat 4A. You look up at her.

“It’s a window seat, I know having the window makes you feel better about flying.” She then winks, you see her eyes trail to your neck again. “And just so you know, you might’ve fooled everyone else, but I’m your mother, your neck doesn't usually have a paler spot right here.” She emphasizes her point by wiping her finger across your neck, then holding her finger up to you, the makeup rubbed slightly off. “But you’re an adult so I wasn’t about to make a scene.”

You turn away from her and pull your hoodie up hiding both the spot on your neck and the embarrassment that was flooding your face. You turn around quickly to thank your Mom before turning back around. The line moves ahead of you and you get onto the plane making your way to your new seat. Your seatmate is already sitting in hers.

“Hi.” You sit down, Jessie’s head whips to the side at the sound of your voice.

“What are you doing?”

“This is my seat.” You hand her your Mom’s ticket. “She traded with me so I could sit by you.”

Jessie pinches her eyebrows together learning how you got the seat. “That’s weirdly nice of her.”

“Yeah I’m not too sure why she did it. Honestly you’re lucky she’s not sitting here, you might not have made it through the flight.”

“Why’s that?” Jessie’s now looking puzzled for another reason.

“She’s my mom, she noticed the makeup immediately. Given that she traded me her seat so I’d be next to you I think she knows you caused it.”

“Whoops.”

You get yourself situated in your seat, getting out your headphones and water bottle before putting your bag away. The plane door closes shortly and you feel familiar nerves begin to grow.

Only this time you don’t have to tell Jessie you’re nervous. She must’ve noticed the way you gripped your water bottle a little tighter and she immediately stuck her hand into your lap. You grab her hand, lacing your fingers with hers feels familiar now, it’s nice, it brings back memories of your date, sitting side by side with her on the pitch.

“It’s okay, it’s going to be fine.” She leans over whispering into your ear. “Think of something else.” You did, the way she was whispering, her lips just an inch from your ear had you reminiscing of your night before and how she had whispered sweet nothings, praises, and also profanities into your ear as your bodies were tangled. You knew that wasn’t necessarily what she meant for you to think of, but it’s what first came to mind. And it helped, it took your mind off of the feeling of taking off.

Just like the last flight it takes Jessie all of an hour to fall asleep, only this time you don’t feel weird looking at her. Looking at her pretty face helps you forget that you were hurling through the air in a metal tube. She only catches you looking at her once. She adjusts from her nap, cracking one eye before telling you off for watching her sleep, all while smiling at you. She moves to put her head on your shoulder and she falls back asleep until you land.

Relieved to be back on the ground you’re thrilled when you pull into the Canada training center and your long travel day is finally coming to and end. Everyone begins to disperse in various directions, some of the players leaving, some wanting to bike or run after sitting on the plane all day, some coming in to unpack, most of the staff walking into the building to drop off equipment.

You make your way to your office and begin decluttering. It’s not long before you’re interrupted.

“Hey.” There’s a knock on your office and you look up to see Jessie’s face.

“Hi.”

“Whatcha doing?” She asks, watching you move around your office.

“Just organizing papers, I have to clear this office out and take everything that’s mine by the end of the week and make it usable for whoever’s next.”

“Oh.”

“What?”

“I don’t know, I mean I knew you were going back to school, I just, I don’t like the idea of this becoming someone else’s office.”

“I’m sure they’ll hire someone great.” You were sad to leave but you had to finish your degree if you wanted to ever find yourself having a fulltime job like this. “Did you need something?”

“Just wanted to see you.” She slumps into the chair across from your desk. She waits a moment before speaking again. “And I wanted to see if you wanted to spend the night again?”

You should be excited, here was your brand new girlfriend asking for you to spend the night, in her bed, not just some hotel bed, unfortunately you didn’t feel that excitement. “Oh, I mean, that sounds great, it’s just, I’ve really missed my own bed. I’ve been looking forward to sleeping in it for days now.”

“Right, of course, I forgot you had said that the other day.” Jessie pushes herself out of the chair, you can tell she seems embarrassed by your rejection of her invite.

“Babe, wait.” You accidentally let the pet name slip from your mouth in an attempt to get Jessie to stay. She turns back, she looks surprised and you immediately start to backpedal on your words. “Sorry, is babe okay? I didn’t mean to say it.”

“Babe is,” a smile interrupts Jessie’s sentence, she shakes her head and finishes “babe is good, I like that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you want to say something?” She squints at you.

“Oh right, would you want to stay at my place tonight instead? Obviously if you’d rather stay at your own place I get it, we can do a different night.” You offer before you can really even think if your place is clean. Are the sheets clean? Is the clutter picked up? What if you had left it a mess in the chaos of packing? Do you have dirty laundry?

“Okay, I’ll have to stop by my place first, get a few things, just make sure everything’s good there, if you send me your address I can be there whenever you’re ready.”

“Okay.” Jessie turns to head out the door and you turn your attention back to organizing. You still had a good bit of paperwork to go through and stuff to put away but you could come in later this week to do that. Now your main concern was your apartment.

“Clean sheets, clean the bathroom.” You start muttering to yourself creating yourself a to-do list of items you wanted to tidy before Jessie came over. “I should vacuum.” You say as you bend down to put something into a drawer. When you stand up you’re startled to see Jessie back in your office standing on the other side of the desk.

“What are you still doing here? I thought you left.”

She nods at you. “I did, I came back.”

“Why?”

“Just wanted to do this one more time before it becomes someone else’s office.”

She grabs your hand pulling you out from behind your desk and brings you close to her. She drops your hand to move both of her own to your hips and she guides you to step back until you’re against the wall.

It’s as if you’re replaying your first kiss, only this time there’s more to it. It’s not just a tentative kiss with unknowns behind it. Her body is pressed to yours like it was before, only now you know what that feels like without clothes between your bodies. It’s a kiss you’re sharing as girlfriends, as people who have done this before. There’s no longer nerves, there’s butterflies instead. Her fingers caress your hips as your own arms loop around her neck holding her to you. You can feel her hair tickling your cheeks as she leans in. She’s still soft with her lips, they slide against yours and much to your dismay she pulls away too soon. You’re breathing hard when she pulls back, her hands still on your waist and your arms around her neck.

“At least we didn’t get walked in on this time.” She teases. “Okay, now I’m actually leaving, please don’t bother cleaning like crazy, I’d rather come over sooner than wait for you to make your place spotless. I know you just got back from a trip, it’s fine if it’s not clean.” Her hands fall from your body and she turns, you drop your own arms down to your sides.

“Alright, but maybe just a little cleaning.” You hold up your index finger and thumb making a pinching gesture.

Jessie just rolls her eyes and walks to the door before stopping herself at the door frame. “I’ll see you in a bit,” she hesitates for a split second before adding. “baby.”

[muniimyg]

3: the favourite snacks // series m.list

note: ohhh... it's kinda cute here ;) how are we liking them? lmk ur thoughts! oc's moment to shine is coming soon !!!

taglist request: send a request with the title of this fic “aao” // DO NOT comment here or on the masterlist . it gets confusing and i prefer answering and tagging through asks !!!

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @taetaecatboy @pb-n-juju @miss-rainy-days @firesighgirl @whoa-jo @vantxx95 @pamzn @kakixaku @casspirit0705 @tae165 @defzcl @sopebubbles @leefics @ggukkieland @bebebutbetter @yoongimentita7 @boraength @era-genius @4ksj @vampcharxter @miss-jupiter @floweryjeons @taegijns @jeonqkooks-main @ellesalazar @jkslvsnella @parkinglot-nights @kissyfacekoo

fic taglist: @seagulljk @peterstarkchrishiddleston @thekookiecorner @kyjjk @bbtsficrecs @rainypainting @skzthinker @lachimolalajeon @wildflower98 @bluesoulsoul @loumin908 @jk-190811 @survivalistghost

//

As usual, Jungkook interrupts your reading time. Before, it didn’t mean much. Before, he would quietly sit beside you and mind his own business until he got out of his mind bored. Then, he would bug you and you would have no choice but to put your book down. You didn't mind it before. Before, it was whatever.

However, the scene is different today.

Today, he ran to the library after his lecture and couldn’t find you. Disappointed, Jungkook turned his heels to head home… But as fate would have it; he found you along the way.

At the sight of you, right then and there, Jungkook decided that this was his favourite season. 

The season of you.

How could it not be when this… You… Are just so beautiful? As you sit on the grass, leaning against the tree trunk, the wind gently blows cherry blossom petals around you. It’s beautiful. It looks magical.. Like it was fake. I mean, it had to be right? You look so perfect. It looks like those made-up scenes in movies. Jungkook rubs his eyes to make sure it isn’t. This is real life. 

This is you. 

However, his dream-like state of mind is shaken awake when he approaches you, and you refuse to give him the time of day.

First, he stands in front of you and greets you warmly. You ignore him. Then, he sits down beside you and nudges you. Even though your body moves to his push, you still remain silent. Now, this is his last attempt before he loses his mind. 

Jungkook inches closer to you. You sit still, doing your best not to move away. You have to stay put. You have to stand your ground! But life gets 10 times more difficult because he smells so good. As he leans forward, he fixes your hair, and you're awestruck. He tucks your hair behind your ear, sending chills down your spine. You swear it’s just the cool breeze, but you know in your heart it’s him. 

He makes your heart race. 

He smells good.

He looks good, too.

It's no wonder your body betrays you. You squirm from his touch, unable to hold yourself still. It’s gentle and light—but it’s just so ticklish! As you react, Jungkook offers a smug smile. In return, you push his hand away and huff at him. 

“I’m not talking to you.”

Jungkook’s smile drops. 

“What? Why?” His mind spins with confusion. Meanwhile, you keep a straight face and go back to reading. “What did I do?”

Keeping your book up, you answer him without really answering him.

“You know what you did.”

Jungkook thinks for a moment. What could he have done? The last time he saw you was a few days ago. You two met up to have a quick study session together. It was the same routine! What could he have done wrong since then? Rather, what did he do wrong then?

“... I’m not really sure what I did wrong… Can I have a hint or something?” His tone is genuine and curious, making it harder for you to dish-out your anger.

So, you don’t respond.

Impatient and annoyed at your pettiness, he grabs your book and lowers it to see your face. 

Infuriated, you whine. “Hey! I’m reading—”

“—And I’m trying to talk to you.” Jungkook snaps. "Come on, ___. What's going on? Talk to me, please."

You glare at him, completely baffled at his audacity. Does he seriously think that he can play dumb? He can't. You won't let him.

“Well, I’m not talking to you.”

With an eyebrow raised, he speaks out his thoughts. “Why not? I don’t think I did anything wrong—”

“You lied to me!” You blurt. “You lied to me, and you know it. I looked so stupid!”

Jungkook’s throat feels dry. 

Lied to you?

About what?

He tries to run everything he has ever said to you back. He tries to remember everything from the moment you two first met to this very moment now… Every story he has ever said and every tiny side comment—yet, he can’t think of a time he was dishonest. He had no reason to lie to you! Talking to you is so easy because you’re such a good listener. If anything, talking to you has compelled him to be more honest… Jungkook reflects and concludes: no. He is not a liar. Besides, it’s not like he was hiding anything—

“You can skate,” you reveal. 

Jungkook blinks.

“Who told you?”

Fed up, you shove your book to Jungkook's chest. He lets it hit him and drop before reaching for your hands. Quickly, you swipe them away from him. No way is he holding your hand! Not after all the crap he just pulled.

Crossing your arms, you begin to confront him. “Yoongi and Jin were drinking last night. They called me and teased me about how dumb I was… How naive I was because you knew how to skate the entire time! I took the time to teach you how to skate because you kept falling—a-and to what? Find out you were pretending the entire time? W-why would you do that? Why would you lie to me?” 

Oh, it’s bad. 

It’s pathetically horrible how Jungkook is so into you right now.

It melts his heart how you could be this serious and hurt over this little fib. This has to be the cutest thing you could ever do… Be mad at him for wanting to hold your hand just because he was mischievous about it. 

He wants to laugh. He wants to tell you that you’re cute and the entire thing was just a stupid boy-coded play… But, considering how bruise-hearted you’re acting… Jungkook thinks twice about it. 

Then, he decides to give in and abide by your needs. 

Answers.

You want answers and answers is what he’ll give you. 

“First of all: you’re not dumb,” Jungkook reassures you. You make a sour face and shake your head at him.

Groaning, you tell him: “Yes, I am! I looked like a total idiot trying to teach you how to skate when you’re literally a hockey player—”

“Second, I’m not a hockey player,” he chuckles. 

With a half smile, you return: “Right… You’re just a liar.”

Okay. 

… He deserved that. 

Jungkook doesn’t know what to say or do… Honestly, what are you supposed to say or do? The issue is ridiculous but at the same time, he understands you feel deceived. So… now what? 

Honesty. 

“Okay… I admit it,” Jungkook sighs, accepting his defeat. “I lied to you about not knowing how to skate. I’m a liar. I’m sorry—”

“Ah ha!” you point your finger at him. Then, you poke his chest. “That's why I’m not talking to you—”

“But I’m apologizing—”

You shush him. “Doesn’t matter. At least, not right now. Like... Oh my goodness, Jungkook! I’m so embarrassed! It’s bad enough that—”

“—That I like you?” Jungkook interrupts you. You’re tongue-tied, unable to find words to deny or confirm. With shaky eyes, he does his best to look at you with the sincerest gaze. “I refuse to apologize for my feelings."

"It's not about your feelings—"

Jungkook plays smart. He's all in anyways. "Okay. Fine, it's not about my feelings. It's about yours, okay? ___, I’m sorry, okay? I just wanted to hold your hand… Is it that bad? Am I that awful for wanting to hold your hand?”

Slowly, you shake your head. You didn't meant to make him feel bad about his feelings for you! That wasn't the point. The point was... Well..

Oh, god.

What was the point again?

Your words beat your thoughts. “N-no… I just… I don’t understand why you didn’t just tell me.”

Jungkook looks at you softly, and it makes your heart stumble. Booping your nose, his lips curve into a smirk.

“It’s called flirting, dummy.”

“Hmph,” you pout, turning your face away from him. Under your breath, you mutter, “... So you’re calling me dumb too, huh?”

Jungkook panics. “W-what? No! That’s not what I—”

Without much thought, he grabs your hand and squeezes it. You turn to him, eyeing the way he’s holding your hand. You send him a look, and immediately, he drops your hand and puts it up in surrender. Then, he reaches for his backpack and unzips it. 

“Look! I know my apology doesn’t mean much to you right now, but it’s true. I am so sooo sorry, ___. I’ll deal with the guys. I’ll tell them to shut up and drop it. You’re not dumb—okay?” Jungkook digs inside his backpack and pulls out a plastic bag filled with various items. “Snacks! I was at the convenience store... Then, I suddenly thought of you. So, I bought your favourite snacks. Then I headed to the library but then you weren’t there… And now I’m here—a-and there’s so many! So many snacks, ___! There’s banana milk, some Yakult, and oh, I even bought that cup with the fancy ice—”

“... Is that pocky?” You shift, taking a small peek.

Jungkook’s eyes light up. He nods, shaking the bag in front of you. “Almond crush… Cos I have a crush on you—” You sit up and send him a warning look. Jungkook leans his body back and laughs. “Okay, okay, okay! Sorry! Almond crush is for me… The strawberry pocky is for you… Your favourite, cutie.”

Biting your bottom lip, you give in.

Your heart can refuse Jungkook, but it remains powerless against strawberry pocky. Jungkook takes out your strawberry pocky first. You’re drooling at this point… Before you can hold your hand out and ask for the pocky, Jungkook already opens it for you. When he successfully gets through the box and rips the wrapper, he offers the pocky to you as a peace offering. 

Unspoken, he knows he’s forgiven the minute you take it from his hands. 

Yet, he plays it safe. He waits for you to get a few bites in and for the smile on your face to appear. Once it does, he smiles cheekily at you. 

“Still mad at me?”

Between chews, you reply, “Let me think..."

"Whatever you need to do, my smart girl."

You shove a few more pieces of pocky in your mouth. After you chew and he laughs at you, you voice your decision.

"Nope... Not mad at you anymore. We’re good.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes as he reaches for the top of your head. He ruffles your hair and continues to laugh to himself… Perhaps, it wasn’t just about the lie. You were hangry. Mentally, he notes to always keep strawberry pocky in his bag. In case of future screw-ups or of hangry ___ moments. 

When he’s sure your mood has improved completely, he opens his pocky. 

You watch as he does so. Jungkook takes a bite out of his pocky stick and moans in approval. As he eats, he takes a moment to look out at the view of the rest of the field. Jungkook takes it all in. Other students are sitting on the grass, under the other cherry blossom trees, and even playing. It's a calm late afternoon, and he can't help but think about how much he likes this moment.

How the raspberry lemonade sky is peering over the horizon. How you're beside him. How cool the spring breeze is... It just feels so good to be with you.

“This is a nice spot!" He tells you. "I like the view. I like you—"

"You're ruining my peace," you complain. Shutting your eyes, you focus on the pocky. "But yeah, it's a nice spot. I found it while I had that whole week of avoiding you."

Jungkook laughs. "So I found your new hideout? Sorry, not sorry."

You shrug and point at the Yakult inside the bag. He digs in the bag and takes it out. Like the pocky, he prepares it before giving it to you. When he hands you the drink, you take a sip.

"Can this be our spot?"

You choke.

Jungkook's shoulders drop, finding it hilarious and also a little offending at the same time. Was it really this hard to flirt with you? Are you this childish? He never noticed.

It's annoying that his feelings only grow even more.

"Oh my god," he moves closer to you and pats your back. You take another sip to help relieve your throat. As you recover, he lectures you. "Fine. You can have this damn spot."

When he moves back to his spot, you sit and stare at him. Jungkook continues to eat his pocky. Moving on, he pushes the conversation forward.

"Ahh, I forgot how good this is. Almond is the best.” 

You tilt your head at him, wondering what it’s like to be completely wrong about a simple thing. It's like all your pressing thoughts dismissed themselves.

“Strawberry is better,” you claim. You say it rather simply. You say it honestly.

Jungkook copies your head tilt. 

“Strawberry is overhyped,” he argues with you. “Almond is more expensive. The ingredients are more worth it. It’s not just a fruit-flavored cream—”

You huff at him. “Strawberry is not overhyped! Just because it’s cheaper doesn’t mean it’s worth less—”

“Actually… It does.”

The anger that you had earlier? The one that went away? Yeah… It’s back. 

Fuming, you begin your rant. “Strawberry is classic. Almond was made because people got bored of chocolate, so they added almonds to trick people into thinking it was completely different… It's the same thing! Strawberry is an original flavour like—” As you explain, you put another stick in between your lips and suck on the cream. “Mhmm! It’s the best—”

Your words cut off. 

Not because Jungkook retaliates. 

Not because you’re chewing your pocky. 

No. 

It’s because Jungkook dips his head low and takes a bite out of the other end of your pocky stick. He pulls away rather quickly, but it happens… 

It happened. 

His lips brushed against yours. 

Oh my god. 

Jeon Jungkook kissed you! 

Wide-eyed, you pause for a second. Then, you panic. “W-what—”

“Mhmm.. I guess it’s okay,” Jungkook swallows his bite. “I think I still like—”

“Y-you kissed me!” you exclaim, bringing your hands to your lips. 

Jungkook blinks at you.

“No, I didn’t.”

“J-Jungkook," you breathe, “are you gaslighting me? You literally just kissed me!”

Your mind is spinning.

How the heck did that just happen? One second you’re defending strawberry pocky with your life, and the next… You feel more alive than ever. Jungkook has always been sneaky, but you never expected this. It was so innocent yet so mischievous—you have no words!

Perhaps, your inability to explain how you truly feel is what frustrates you and causes you to sound so naggy. 

On the other hand, Jungkook knew exactly what he was doing. He has no issues facing the repercussions. In his heart, he knows he’s just following it… So, why does it matter? This is him taking a chance. This is him… Winning. 

This is you folding. 

“___, that was not a kiss.” Jungkook reasons with you. “Why? Are you upset because you wanted it to be?"

No words. 

"It's okay to be disappointed," he adds. "I'm disappointed you don't want to share this spot with me. The library is boring as fuck so I don't really want it to be our spot, you know—"

“Y-you’ve got to be k-kidding me!” you cry. “Leave the library alone, you hater."

"... Okay?" Jungkook snickers. "You're greedy today. Do you always have to be right? Is that a thing I should know about you, future girlfriend?"

"Future what?" your eyes bulge. "O-okay, fine. Fine! You win. It wasn’t a kiss. It was horrible anyway. I expected more—”

Jungkook squints at you. “We didn’t even kiss, and you’re already accusing me of being a bad kisser? Damn, at least let me prove you wrong.”

Shaking your head profusely. “T-that’s not what I’m saying! I’m sure you’re an excellent kisser—in fact, I should brace myself, right? B-because you’re probably going to kiss me one of these day, and I’ll—”

“Do you want me to kiss you?”

You pause. 

“W-what?”

“You heard the question,” Jungkook inches closer to you. In your mind, your body stiffens… In reality, you’re melting. Your body slightly leans in towards him and Jungkook has to bite his lip to stop himself from smiling. “Do you want me to kiss you?”

“Y-you already did.”

“You said it wasn't a kiss... Who's the liar now?"

You stay silent. Partly because you have no words and partly because you're afraid of what will happen if you don't speak.

Jungkook presses on. "You’re not answering my question…”

Silence.

Then, as he speaks again, you realize you're stuck either way… You’re too shy to actually say the words, but he will take your silence, and find the truth. Or... You can say it for yourself. So, okay.

Fine.

You give in.

“Y-you can do what you want. I just… I thought you already kissed me.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes at you for the second time this afternoon. “No, silly… If I kissed you, it would’ve been like this—”

Before you know it, it happens. 

It really happens. 

Soft, slow, and sweetly—Jeon Jungkook kisses you.

He kisses you under the cherry blossom tree with the raspberry lemonade sky above, and the spring breeze. He kisses you until you can't breathe, and your heart falls for him. Jungkook kisses you in your spot.

The spot.

Yours and his.

[thel0v3hashira143]

❝ 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐀 𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐄! ❞

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ yuuji megumi gojo nanami n choso ☆ how jjk men act when they have a crush on you!

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ fem!reader, black coded but anyone can read

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ notes: ahhh the comeback post!! let's just say my old works were...less than coherent. but im here and ready to slay the day after 2-ish years!! take these crumbs while i try and find my footing again. stay hot lovies 🎀🎀

yuuji itadori 🌸

my babyyy (sob sob) yuuji would def try to impress you with his athleticism, bc girls like that stuff right? (gojo told him that...save him)

he frequently challenges you to friendly competitions when sparring to showing off his skills.

he def let's you get quite a few hits on him and he may even let you win from time to time (seeing your smile makes getting knocked on his ass worth it)

he might act a bit bashful, but he's straightforward. he knows he has a crush on you so why would he hide it?

expect nice gestures like him wanting to carry things for you, buying you food, watching all your fav movies, ect.

speaking of which, movie hangouts!!!

every friday usually you, megumi, nobara, and yuuji all get together and watch a movie

buuuttt if he's feeling especially brave he'll invite you to his dorm to watch the newest movie in your favorite series! (yes, he keeps track of when they come out)

he loves that it becomes y'alls thing and he loves it even more when you lay your head on his shoulder and doze off <;33

he also gives hella compliments cause something in my gut says his love language is words of affirmation.

anticipate many "isn't [name] just the coolest?" or "you look great today [name]!"

im telling you he could never run out of nice things to say to you, whether it be about your looks or personality

as soon as he realizes he likes you he takes down those pin up girl posters in his dorm

he also obviously thinks you're more beautiful than jennifer lawrence argue wit ur mama

he is also obviously a personality over looks guy so dont act surprised if you see him looking at you with a lovesick grin if he catches you doing something kind for someone

expect him to confess his feelings sooner rather than later

"yeah, why wouldn't i have a crush on [name]? shes beautiful and badass! but don't tell her, okay?"

megumi fushiguro 🌸

megumi, unlike yuuji is quite reserved, even with his friends

honestly gives no indication that he likes you at all 💀💀 he stares at you pretty intensely at first (to admire your beauty) but quickly catches on that you think its weird..

once you two get closer though, megumi would frequently express his crush through small gestures

he strikes me as a reader so i can see him recommending his favorite books to you or even lending you some of his.

you two exchange books often and he highlights quotes that remind him of you

i can also see book shop hangouts where you two sit and read together in some small bookshop he found in the city.

(he's just admiring you read)

he's not a huge compliment/affirmation guy but quality time is a big one for him

whether it be on missions, sparring, or out with the rest of the first year's, he enjoys any time he can have with you.

megumi is also very protective but like...subtly

he secretly watches out for you during missions, making sure you're safe without drawing attention to it

he'll insist you two split up but send one of his divine dogs to accompany you to wherever you go.

even when you're out and about in tokyo he always likes to stay close to you. he follows you around (not in a creepy way more like a lost puppy way)

follows you into stores you like even if he has absolutely no interest.

all in all he's just a shy guy who's whipped for you <3

"i enjoy spending time with you. a lot."

teen!satoru gojo 🌸

gojo...you bastard...(affectionate)

erm ngl i can def see him being a bully to you at first...

not like a bully bully but he def teases you a lot and it gets under your skin sometimes. (you hate him)

but in reality hes jus a spoiled litte rich boy in love.

once he realizes his feelings he still pokes fun at you sometimes, but tones it down hard and turns on his charm.

gojo's approach is confident and playful. he teases you, always with a charming grin, creating a dynamic that keeps things lighthearted and enjoyable.

he'll find excuses to spend time with you, whether it's offering to train together

unlike yuuji he doesn't care if he likes you this son of a gun will NOT let you win istg

it's like he's trying to rile you up, saying ridiculously cheesy one liners as he dodges all your attacks.

"thats the best you got? oh [name], we'll never get to be together if i keep beating you!"

one thing he does enjoy doing with you however, are snack runs.

gojo is a big back in disguise with too much money to spend so you already knows most of that goes towards food.

he has a huge sweet tooth so i can see you guys browsing multiple sweets shops in the city. if he sees you even look at something for too long he'll buy 10 of them.

every trip you guys both leave with full bellies and full hearts <3

gojo wants to be around you, and he makes sure it's fun for you both

his confession is likely to be straightforward. ccompanied by his trademark smile and his sparkling blue eyes peeking from his shades.

"you know, i've been thinking... i'm kind of into you. what do you say we make things a bit more interesting?"

teen!kento nanami 🌸

my emo boy ❤️‍🩹

nanami, with his composed demeanor, expresses his feelings (though you were unsure if he even had any) through thoughtful actions.

he remembers every. single. detail. of anything you say to him.

your favorite attist dropped an album today? he already bought you the cd/vinyl. you never got a chance to go to the store to get your favorite snack? he went 2 days ago.

he revels in the fact that he knows so much about yousnd the surprised look on your face gets him every time.

(haibara claims he's seen nanami smile at you multiple times but he vehemently denies it.)

despite his serious appearance, he'll occasionally crack dry jokes when it's just the two of you

look at that man and tell me he doesn't have a dry sense of humor 😭😭

you help him to relax and he feels he can truly be himself around you. when you two are alone its like hes showing a different side to his personality.

like megumi, i can see quality time being a big thing for him since attending jujutsu high leaves him quite busy

hes also not a huge talker so whenever you two do spend time together its probably somewhere intimate like your dorm or the library.

no words, just vibes. which he appreciates since he's around a bunch of yipper yappers all day.

nanami's confession is understated but sincere.

"i appreciate the time we spend together. it's made me realize there's something more i feel..."

choso kamo 🌸

my babyyyy no. 2 (i need him biblically)

let's get one thing straight tho. choso is a curse. in my opinion curses have no idea of love in a healthy, positive way so let's just say bb is confused.

he obviously knows what love is. he loves his brothers but he doesnt wanna kiss them...and cuddle them...

he goes to yuuji for advice (was it a bad idea? perhaps.)

"bro you totally have a crush on [name]!"

"a crush?"

after some further investigation hes pretty much got the gist of it.

one thing he becomes quite fond of doing is giving you small gifts from his missions.

these aren't typic gifts persay, like food, clothing or jewelry but more like knickknacks such as shells or rocks.

these tokens become a way for him to express what words might fail to convey.

i headcannon choso likes nature documentaries and after seeing that penguins mate for life by gifting a rock to their mate he's hooked.

idk but i also feel like he's very touchy.

he always has an eye on you in public and ik he does the thing where he guides u with his hand on the small of your back or he locks pinkies with you UGHHHH

with him being protective, he also subtly keeps an eye on you during missions.

he's not one to voice his concern directly but prefers to ensure your safety from the danger.

choso's confession might catch you off guard, but it's filled with honesty and sincerity.

"i've found myself caring about you more than I expected. it's strange..."

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ omg i actually really like this...(watch me hate it in a week) but reqs are open!! i have 1 or 2 more pieces planned to get me in the swing of things but take this before then. love y'all!!

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐲 ♡

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚!

𝙘𝙤𝙥𝙮𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙡0𝙫3𝙝𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙧𝙖143 2024

[whispering-ways]

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾★ falling asleep ★☾⋆⁺₊⋆

✶ summary: you're mike's babysitter and you spend night after night taking care of abby. tonight you're exhausted and mike's the one taking care of you.

✶ pairing: mike schmidt x reader

✶ tags: no warnings, just fluff :)

✶ notes: i haven't finished the fnaf movie, but i've been a fan of the series for such a long time and i absolutely love it so far!! here's a short little fic that i've been thinking about for a couple days; i just really like the babysitter reader headcanon and had to write something with that <3

You gaze at the clock, which read 3:26 a.m. You sighed in disappointment. Although only a few minutes had passed by, it seemed like it’d be forever till Mike came home. You’d spent all night taking care of Abby and as lovely as she was, you were exhausted.

The whole night had been spent cooking and playing and looking after her and by the time she fell asleep, you could barely stay awake yourself. You couldn’t keep your eyes open any longer. Before you knew it, you felt your eyes slowly close and you fell fast asleep on the couch. 

After some time has passed, you hear the door open, though you felt too tired to care in the moment. You are a light sleeper, but in your state, you could barely decipher Mike's softly spoken words as he came in. You sense his presence moving about the kitchen and you guessed he was just fixing himself a meal. You sink into the sofa, exhausted, lying down on the couch to catch some more sleep. What felt like a couple of moments later, you felt arms around you.

At first, you assumed it was Abby, trying to wake you up for a glass of water. However, when you sense yourself being lifted into the air, you quickly realized it had to have been Mike trying to get you off the couch. It confused you, but it was far too early in the morning for you to be able to care. You drift off once again, too fatigued to comprehend much more.

You wake up in the middle of the night to find yourself on a mattress and not the couch cushions you remember seeing. You look around, taken aback to discover Mike by your side, fast asleep and limbs splayed out. Taking in your environment, you notice a few dirty shirts, a couple of books about dreams and a Nebraska poster up above you.

You deduced that this was Mike’s room, but you had no clue what you were doing here with him, in his bed of all places. That’s when you put two and two together: Mike must’ve carried you here after seeing you asleep on the couch

You laid back on the bed and looked towards him.  You had to admit, he looked pretty cute. He looked so peaceful right now; it seemed like he didn’t have a care in the world, a stark difference from his usual furrowed brows and dark circles. And for someone who didn’t have time to go to the gym, his arms were pretty muscular. You’d always thought he was attractive, but tonight definitely painted him in a whole new light.

You didn’t know what compelled you to do it, but you scooched forward so that your head was just a few inches from his chest. Although he’d been in a small sweaty office for most of the night, he honestly smelled pretty good; he smelled like pine and rain. His presence lulled you to sleep, and you soon fell back asleep.

You felt a subtle tug across your body, and to your surprise, it was his arm embracing you, pulling you towards his chest. You couldn’t complain though; it definitely felt nice. You closed your eyes again, a soft smile stretching across your face. You didn’t know where this would go when you both woke up, but for now, you were too blissful to care.