#L.A. Plays Itself

[pierppasolini]

L.A. Plays Itself (1972) // dir. Fred Halsted

[sesiondemadrugada]

Los Angeles Plays Itself (Thom Andersen, 2003).

[everythingisromant1c]

p1: chemistry read w/ co-star!james

co-star!james potter x actress!reader

summary: before filming can start, your director has to ofc find the perfect person to play your love interest, + what better way to do that than to have a chemistry read?

a/n: i will not pretend to know anything abt film/tv production so this is more than probably innaccurate 🙏 also this first one is not my best work but dw more drama will ensue. <33

full series - masterlist

You'd wanted this job more than anything. You'd worked harder than anyone you knew to kickstart your acting career and knew this opportunity was just the way to do it. When your agent called you about an audition for the lead role in a new show titled 'South Bay'—a drama named after the L.A. region itself—and gave you a sample of the pilot script, saying you fell in love with it wouldn't be a stretch. And after those few months later when you'd received the call that you'd gotten the part, it was safe to say you were walking on clouds for weeks afterward.

Your amazing director Minerva had cast you first and foremost, knowing your role was key to the show's success, and you'd already built a strong relationship with her after just a few weeks of knowing her.

After casting you, she'd informed you that the show's next order of business was finding someone to play your character's—Cassidy's—love interest, Aaron. When she'd told you that initially, you didn't think anything of it. But when she told you they already had gone through the first round of auditions for the role and that it was time for the infamous chemistry reads, you had to try your hardest to stay completely calm.

Aside from the fact that you'd soon be meeting the person you'd have to spend hours working with every day for God knows how many months, you also knew that the casting directors were going to be looking extra careful at the romantic chemistry you were supposed to have with the actors they brought in. You willed yourself not to get worked up when the morning came for the chemistry reads with the men auditioning for Aaron, and reminded yourself that your role in the show was already secured. Yet, for some reason, you were still on edge.

Luckily, the casting directors had narrowed down their options from the hundreds of actors who had come to audition for the role of Aaron originally to just a handful, making your job much easier. By the time noon came around, you'd already read from the script with three different candidates.

Just as you'd expected, they each had done a close-to-perfect job in their auditions. Your personal favorite was the second actor you'd read lines with, a sandy-haired guy named Remus who you thought was a really nice person as well as actor. It was important to you that the person you were going to have to pretend to be romantically interested in was a person you at least liked, and it was all too easy to imagine working with someone like Remus.

You'd expressed your thoughts to Minerva when she'd asked for them, and she nodded in agreement—a good sign—before the two casting directors beside her were calling for her attention.

"This next one, Minerva," cooed the curly-haired woman you knew as Poppy from next to her, "we think you're going to like."

"Am I?" she asked, lips curling up.

"Oh yes. When we saw him we knew right away we had to bring him in for the chemistry reading." Poppy nodded to you. "He looks promising. And he certainly has the background; his parents are Euphemia and Fleamonet Potter."

The other casting director hummed in agreement, not hiding their impressed and widened eyes. "Not to mention, he has that accent."

You had to fight your expression from turning sour. A Potter? If there was one thing you didn't appreciate in the world of acting, it was nepotism. After working so hard and starting from the ground up to get your acting career where it currently was, the last thing you wanted was to have to see your director swoon over some guy just because of who his parents were.

Nonetheless, you had faith in Minerva to pick the person who truly deserved the job. You watched her nod at the two women beside her, intrigued nonetheless. She waved a hand over to the security guard by the door in the corner of the room.

"Bring Potter in?"

The burly man nodded and exited the room briefly, and not a minute had gone by before he returned with the man you assumed was the young Potter in tow.

You subconsciously stood up straighter when you saw him, trying to push away any premeditated opinions of the man approaching. Brown curls and a genetically gifted bone structure you could see from feet away, he walked into the room confidently with reason. He immediately offered the security guard who had brought him into the room a handshake, and you watched as the tall brick wall of a man lit up with a bright smile from the gesture. Potter then rolled out more charming words of greeting to the director and casting directors, and you took the opportunity to scan him over in more detail.

With an interest you couldn't explain, you saw that he was strikingly handsome in the kind of way you'd expect the son of two celebrities to be; he was wearing a black t-shirt that clung to him flatteringly, with that sort of movie-star quality you knew audiences always swooned over. It didn't help that the moment he walked in you saw each of the directors turn to each other with raised brows and suggestive smiles that only widened when he introduced himself, charmingly posh British accent and all. You had to fight back from rolling your eyes at their reactions.

"James," greeted Poppy, standing up from her seat to give the man a handshake.

"Poppy," the man regarded, and you felt your eyebrows raise at the fact that he was already on a first-name basis with the head casting director.

She sat back down after a moment, keeping her attention on the man—James—as she spoke. "James, this is Minerva McGonagall, the Director of South Bay."

"I'm such an admirer of your work, Mrs. McGonagall. My parents took me to see your adaptation of Henry Shay's novel about three times when it first came out."

Your parents, you thought internally with some distaste; the famous actor and actress power couple. You had to stop yourself from shaking your head.

"Please, just Minerva," the director responded warmly, and you noted that she hadn't told any of the other actors to call her by her first name. "And thank you."

Poppy nodded happily before she held out an alarming hand towards you. "And let me introduce you to the wonderful actress who is going to be playing South Bay's leading lady Cassidy Ward."

You plastered on a smile and introduced yourself as plainly and confidently as you could, definitely not feeling suddenly conscious of your appearance as his warm-colored eyes raked over you.

James took that second to scan you over before realizing with a simmering feeling in the planes of his chest that there was something special about you he couldn't make out, something that had him wanting to greet you with more than a handshake. He refrained, thankfully, not saying anything after you finished introducing yourself for a second you felt was a beat too long, before scrambling to hold out a hand to you.

"I'm James. James Potter," he said as if you hadn't been already made aware of his last name. "It's an honor to get to meet you."

You didn't know why but his clear flattery only made you more uneasy of him, knowing it was something he'd probably gotten used to pulling out to impress whatever important or famous people he was busy meeting through all the connections he probably had.

You stopped yourself in your tracks; you were being unfair. You'd only known the guy, if you call it knowing him, for under a minute. Shaking off the odd feeling that was creeping its way into your stomach, you shook his held out hand with a polite nod, though that didn't the prying feeling inside you go away.

"Alright." Minerva clapped her hands together, looking between the two of you. "We're just going to do a read-through of scene number thirty-four, Episode three." She motioned towards the camera crew set up behind her, them shooting her a thumbs up.

She turned back around, looking between you and James pointedly. "Remember, your characters Cassidy and Aaron are the only two characters in the show who have known each other for longer than just a few months. They're close. That connection has to be visible, however you want to show that to us."

You didn't know why, but you felt uneasy. You nodded at Minerva regardless, seeing the supportive but anticipatory look behind her eyes as she glanced between you and the man now standing in front of you like you held the answers to all her problems.

James looked surprisingly calm and collected, like there was nothing in the world that could make the James Potter nervous. The more you looked at him and the confident set of his shoulders, the more you thought that was true.

Your director smiled. "Whenever you're both ready."

You nodded, taking a breath in before turning to James. "Where were you last night?"

You watched as James reacted to you in character, his strong brows pulling inwards. "What do you mean?"

You momentarily were taken aback by the almost effortless switch in his accent, but pushed the thought aside. "Last night. When everyone else was at Ryan's party. Where were you?"

He shrugged slightly. "I was in my dorm."

"Really? Because I knocked on your door and no one answered."

"I must've been sleeping. Why do want to know so badly?"

"I don't know, maybe because half the football team got caught last night breaking into the Dean's office."

"You don't think I did that, do you?"

You stared at him and then down at the floor. James—or Aaron, really—shook his head at you, his tone dropping. "I can't believe this."

Then he turned away from you and, as the script had told you to, you grabbed his wrist softly.

"Aaron, wait," you called, and the connection of your fingers to his arm had them tingling with a certain kind of teeming energy, though you didn't let it show on your face. "Of course I don't think you did it. I just don't know what to think. We're supposed to be best friends, yet you won't even tell me where you were."

James let a second pass before he said his next line, and it was like you could see his character's inner turmoil flickering through his mind restlessly when he said, "You want to know where I was, Cassidy?" You nodded. "I was talking with your Professor."

"Professor Brown?" you frowned. "Why?"

"I was trying to get him to let you submit your final thesis late."

"What? You know he told me I couldn't because-"

"Because of me." He paused dramatically, stern jaw working. "The only reason you missed the deadline was because you were helping me when I got too drunk to even make it up the stairs to my dorm."

"That's ... that's really nice of you, Aaron, but you know how Brown is-"

"He's letting you turn it in late for full credit."

"What?" You widened your eyes. "How did you ..."

"I told him how it was my fault you missed the deadline. And I told him about how good of a student you are, how you've never turned in anything late once, not even when we were in high school. But most importantly," he took a step closer to you to hold your hand, something you noted wasn't in the script but made your fingers flood with feeling. "I told him what a good person you were. How kind you are. Even to idiots like me who get black-out drunk during finals week."

You blinked at him, letting a smile overtake your face for a moment. "You really didn't have to."

"I did."

He squeezed your hand and, even if it was only acting, the way he was looking at you so meaningfully made something in your chest tighten excitedly. You didn't have to act when you shifted your gaze to the ground nervously. Why the hell were you nervous? "I don't know how the hell you got him to say yes."

"Well, I also have to wash his car for free for the next six months, but that's just a small detail."

You let your jaw drop. "I can't believe you'd do that for me."

"Of course I would." James took another step closer, still holding tight onto your hand and not breaking the immobilizing eye contact he'd established with you the whole while. "I'd do anything for you, Cassidy."

He nodded slowly, truly looking invested. Then, in a beat as short as a breath but one that must've felt like minutes to you as you stood there unmovingly, he leaned forward. All you could do was blink as his handsome—ugh, handsome—face neared yours before tilting itself to the right, where he left a soft but lingering kiss on your downstage cheek.

Then he pulled away again, the distance between you maybe a few inches smaller than before, before finally whispering, "Anything."

That definitely was not in the script. Your eyes blinked in an alarm that surely was no longer in character, but James looked unbothered, something you were finding was his natural state of being.

You felt your mouth go slightly dry at the intensity behind his eyes as he looked at you, but the last thing you could do was look away now, so you stayed rooted in your place in front of James as you waited for your signal to break character. Waited and waited; you felt dizzy.

"Cut!"

Minerva immediately clapped, the casting directors doing the same, and you felt like you could finally breathe as you dropped James's hand that was still holding yours and turned away from him, not sparing the man a second glance for nervous reasons you couldn't place. Maybe it was because of the fact that the feeling of his stupid lips was still lingering on your cheek.

Your director's tone was neutral when she said, "Great job, you two," though you watched as she turned passionately toward the two casting directors and they began speaking in hushed tones.

You shook your leg subtly as you waited, an antsy habit that you couldn't identify the current cause of, and you felt James lean down next to you, something that sent a nauseating feeling of déjà vu through you.

"Don't worry," he whispered lowly, taking your mannerisms as a sign of distress. He noted that even when frowning you looked extremely pretty, though at his words you left his lips your frown only deepened. "You did great."

You turned to him in confusion and some offense, trying to keep your voice hushed as you asked, "Excuse me?"

He shrugged a shoulder, eyes flicking over your figure for a split second that you definitely noticed. "You just looked tense, is all."

You stared at him blankly, not knowing what he could possibly be implying. Was he saying your acting looked tense? That you didn't look sure of yourself? Like you weren't already the lead and that he was the one auditioning? 

You fought the urge to say that maybe you looked tense because he'd just kissed you on the cheek out of nowhere, and stayed defiantly silent. When you didn't say anything back he let his lips turn up into a lopsided smile that you were sure must work on all the ladies, almost a smirk, and he nudged you in the shoulder a bit like you were old friends. Who was this guy?

Whatever you thought he meant by the statement, you didn't get to say anything back, because Minerva had pulled away from her conversation and was staring expectantly at the two of you. You did your best to soften your expression away from offended and back to neutral.

"Well," she said, turning to the man beside you. "Thank you, James, for coming in."

"Thank you," he responded, tipping his head politely. Then he took a step forward and shook each of the casting director's hands, and you watched with a foul taste in your mouth as their lips visibly fought against fond smiles.

When he turned back around, he held his hand out to you as well, and you regarded it for a moment before shaking it like you did at the start of his audition, though this time it was definitely against your will. His hand was warm and smooth, like he hadn't worked a day in his life, and you hated the fact that you even noted how it felt at all.

Like he knew you didn't enjoy his presence, he smiled at you with something knowing shining in his eyes that you hated before he took his leave, the door to the room shutting behind him.

"That was ..." began Poppy, shaking her head slowly, "Perfect. Just perfect."

You couldn't help the way your lips parted almost exhasperatedly. "Really?" You hoped you hadn't revealed your surprise in your tone.

"Yes," Minerva responded instead, also seeming to be in awe. "Wow." She gestured with her hands exuberantly. "It was like I could see the show coming to life right in front of me."

"Not to mention the chemistry between you two." Poppy tipped her head at you, smirking as she fanned herself. "I mean, wow."

You bit down on the inside of your cheek to keep from saying anything you'd regret. Your throat felt dry. If you heard one more 'wow' from any of their mouths in reference to James Potter again you thought you were going to lose it. You tried to keep the premonition out of your voice as you bravely asked, "So, do you think you're going to cast him?"

Minerva paused for a moment in thought before answering you. "I mean, he was the last actor we're considering for the role, and I think he was the best we've seen today." She looked between the two other casting directors who nodded agreeingly at her words. "But I'd like to know your thoughts."

You blinked at her. "My thoughts?"

"Well, yes," she answered plainly. "He's going to be playing your love interest. And I like to hear my actor's opinions."

You pursed your lips at her words, feeling flattered but also not knowing how you were feeling at the prospect of having to work with James all the time. Although, deep within you, something was nagging at you—something you absolutely did not like—and telling you your answer.

The truth was, the scene you acted out with James felt realer, had come to life more than it had with any of the other actors that day. Maybe it was because he'd taken such liberties with the role, sure, but regardless, he did a great job. The thought made you hate yourself when you finally took a breath in to speak.

"He ..." you began unsurely, and then sighed. "He was great. Really great."

"Perfect!" Minerva clapped her hands together again, and something in your stomach churned. "We'll make contact with him as soon as possible." Her eyes twinkled as she regarded you. "I can't wait to have you two leading South Bay. I have nothing but hope."

"And," Poppy added, "it'll be great for publicity having a Potter in our cast."

The two other directors at the table nodded and murmured in agreement, and you fought from sighing. You thought of the days you'd spend on set with James Potter, of all people, not only having to get along with him but connect with him, with someone who clearly thought they were above you, enough to reassure you when you had already gotten the lead role. And then you thought of what it would be like to release South Bay to the public, your first leading role, only for Potter's undeniably charming face to be the audience's main focus. It left a sour feeling in your mouth.

But it wasn't just that horrible premonition that annoyed you; you didn't know exactly what bugged you about him in particular but you knew it hadn't gone away with his formal handshake or well-practiced manners. In fact, that'd probably only worsened the feeling.

But there was nothing you could really do about it now. At least, not if you planned on keeping your job. You were a professional, you knew that. But that didn't mean it was going to be easy to maintain that title. You really did sigh then, and something rooted in your gut told you it was going to be a long year of shooting.

[a1ecmcdowell]

coincidence — rafe cameron x pogue!reader!

part of the short n' sweet x obx collection, found here!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤincludes, pogue!reader. cheating. sad!rafe :(. i promise i love sofia.

❛ what a surprise - your phone died, and your car drove itself from l.a. to between her thighs! ❜

you and rafe were a bit tumultuous. he loved you in private, and he loved you so much that it sometimes ached, like the sweetest form of violence. 

but in public, he could never manage to switch off the part of his brain that rejected every pogue he came across like he did when you two were alone. it was like he was more concerned about what his friends thought of him and his relationship than he did about your feelings. 

he was pulling back. you could see the signs of it in the ways he started having excuses to keep you from coming over, how his hand would subtly slip from yours when you were out together. 

and you couldn’t just pick apart his brain and fix whatever the problem was, because he didn’t talk to you enough anymore to let you in. 

you didn’t know if you were even still together, but he wouldn’t just ghost you a year into your relationship. he couldn’t. 

you’d decided the night before that you were just going to show up and demand an answer from him. it would probably be a fight, you knew; but what could hurt more than being with someone that didn’t want you any longer? 

that next morning was cloudy gray and speckled with misty raindrops. it didn’t feel like a very good omen about what was coming, but it didn’t slow your footsteps up his porch.

your hand raises to knock on the door at the same moment that it pulls open, and out stumbles — a girl. short brown hair, pretty glossed lips, wearing nothing but a pink bikini top and denim shorts. 

and behind the open door, strong hand wrapped around the edge of it, is rafe. smiling at her like he hadn’t smiled at you in weeks. 

the smile falls the moment his eyes lift to you, and the girl apologizes as she dodges running into you, and it all feels like a big fucking slap in the face. 

he’d been the best part of your life for so long. this hope that you could be more than the cut. and all of this time, he was waiting for the moment that he could dump you back off on your side of outer banks.

“why didn’t you call?” he asks, like that’s the first thing anyone should say when they’re caught cheating. 

you can’t tell if you’re more angry or hurt. both emotions feel like a hot, heavy weight sat right on your sternum. “you don’t answer anymore.” 

“because i’m busy.” 

there’s no remorse in his eyes. actually, you can’t even tell if there is, because he’s looking away from you like he’s already cut you from the picture of his life. 

“what, screwing other girls?” you snap, your voice biting and raw. 

his jaw flexes, tongue pressing into his cheek. “it’s complicated.” 

“i don’t think it is, rafe.” you shake your head, your lips pressed into a tight line. “you were cheating, and you’re mad you’re caught.” 

“oh, you think it’s that simple, huh?” he takes a step closer, his frame taking up the entirety of the doorway. “y’think overnight i just started thinking about wanting to fuck someone else?” 

you falter. no, he’s not going to get away with flipping this on its head and blaming you. making you apologize. 

“you can’t just blame me because you don’t want to take responsibility—” 

his fist slams against the wooden doorframe, and you flinch, because this really was going to be as volatile as you thought. you’d hoped that you were wrong, but you were right, and he was angry that you weren’t just some stupid little pogue he could manipulate. 

“i am taking responsibility. yeah, i fucked sofia,” he seethes through his clenched teeth, “yeah, i’ve been sneakin’ around, what the fuck else do you want to hear?” 

your arms wrap around your chest, and you have to resist the urge to stumble backwards. sofia, sofia, sofia. it plays in your head on a loop, the girl he deemed worth ruining what you had for. 

“why?” is all that you can manage to say. 

his eyes finally drop down to look at you. they’re so blue in the dawning sunrise that you wish, wish, things were different right now, so you could smooth the creases in the corners of his eyes. “m’not good for you.” 

“bullshit.” you spit it out before he’d even finished speaking. “if i thought that, i wouldn’t have stuck around as long as i have. i wouldn’t be sticking around now.” 

“you shouldn’t,” he says just as violently serious as the last, “i’m— i’m trying to push you away, sweetheart—” 

sweetheart. 

it shouldn’t affect you like it does, after how he’d just hurt you like this. but it does, of course it does, because you loved him like the sun loved the moon, and even when he was trying to break this, you’d always be in his orbit. 

“you can’t,” your voice is small as it leaves your lips, but your words aren’t, “i’m not goin’ anywhere. this is one good thing you can’t ruin. not on my watch.” 

he stares at you with that intense blue gaze of his for a long minute. the seconds tick by like hours while you wait for him to say anything. 

and he doesn’t — not with his words, anyway. his arms move from the doorway and encircle your waist, tugging you into a tight embrace. 

you’d known about how much he struggled with wanting acceptance, craving validation that he never got. you’d never expected him to be so used to rejection that he tried to cause it himself, just to be in that familiar place again. 

“m’sorry, sweetheart,” he whispers into your hair, pressing his lips to the crown of your head and leaving them there. “don’t deserve you. i don’t.” 

“you will, and you do,” you push, your fingers curling tightly against his spine. “when you go wash her perfume off of you.” 

his laugh cracks, but it’s a laugh, so you feel better about this. about him. about where he’s at in his head. “of course.” 

“and delete her number.” 

his hands raise to your face, framing it between his large palms. “already did it, baby. but you’re real cute when you’re jealous.”

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[wheneverfeasible]

Sickness of the Heart

wc: 5.5k || rating: T+ || cw: sexual themes, language, slut-shaming (but for a good cause) || summary: After ending his FWB relationship with a!Eddie, o!Steve must deal with the humiliation of a self-imposed rejection sickness while interacting with the other members of Corroded Coffin. Flight of Icarus compliant. Angst with an open ending. || ao3

Note: This fic does contain a brief summary of Paige’s involvement in Flight of Icarus, so while it does contain some spoilers, this also means that you do not need to have read the book to enjoy this story. Also, while this is technically a Steddie fic, Eddie doesn’t actually make an appearance in the story itself lol.

This fic is partially inspired by @fkinkindagauche ‘s fic The Unbearable Horniness of Steve Harrington in relation to Steve’s rejection sickness. Excellent read if you haven’t yet!

-

Steve was going to murder Dustin.

Or maybe he’ll let him live, he hasn’t decided yet. The kid didn’t really know the whole story, after all, so it wasn’t like he knew how utterly lost and devastated Steve felt right now, the rejection sickness curling through him in sharp pangs and dull aches. He didn’t know how much Steve’s heart was breaking with every step Steve took towards Gareth’s garage.

The only benefit was that Steve knew Eddie was out of town, setting things up with Paige for their chance of redemption. The pretty beta had reached out after the news of Eddie’s trial had made front page news even outside of Indiana, her boss apparently wanting to give Eddie a second chance at making it big in the music industry.

Eddie had been floored, energetic, and even the boys in Corroded Coffin couldn’t fault him if he ditched them again to make a better life for himself. They all knew he deserved it after everything. Except, Eddie had told them point blank that he was never running again, never turning his back on those he cared about. Had agreed to the offer to audition properly, but only if all of Corroded Coffin was invited too. All or nothing, he’d said.

After a bit of back-and-forth, Paige’s boss agreed.

It had been the final nail in the coffin for this thing between him and Eddie.

The facts were this:

During Eddie’s first senior year, Paige, with her fancy music scout assistant L.A. job, had been visiting her family in town and stumbled across Corroded Coffin playing at The Hideout. As anyone with even a passing interest in music could clearly see, she discovered Eddie and was instantly impressed with his talent and passion for music. They had…hit it off.

It had led to an offer to audition. But just for Eddie. And Eddie? Young and stupid and running away from a town that already hated him just for being his father’s son? Well, he had agreed. And then said father had come back and ruined everything, had burned those bridges for Eddie before disappearing once again and taking with it Eddie’s chance of a better life.

Had, in fact, been directly responsible for Eddie getting into drug dealing with led to…everything.

The relationship with Paige had ended messily, but not as devastating as it could have been. At least, that was Steve’s understanding of things. Over the course of his and Eddie’s…thing…the older alpha had talked about his past, slowly revealing all of this to Steve who had opened up about his own traumatic past, about his guilt over Barb, his and Robin’s torture at the hands of evil Russians, and how his parents had never truly loved him, made all that much more obvious when his secondary gender presented as omega.

It had been nice. For a moment, Steve had been able to pretend that it was something more than it actually was. Could pretend that when Eddie called him beautiful as he moved inside him, that the alpha had meant it as more than just what a good lay Steve was.

It had never been more than that, however. No matter how much Steve desperately but secretly wished otherwise.

Helping Eddie recover, then also serving as a character witness for Eddie’s trial, the two of them had grown into something actually resembling genuine friends and not just two people thrown together because of otherworldly forces and trauma. Eddie even spent a large part of his time at Steve’s house as they all prepared for Eddie’s trial, whether with the larger group or just on his own.

And then Eddie’s rut hit, unexpectedly and most likely brought on by stress from the trial, and…well…well Steve actually hadn’t had a decent lay in a while since he’d been dating betas and other omegas almost exclusively since Nancy. He missed being with an alpha. Missed being able to let himself go and fall into omega space, which he trusted Eddie with since he was his friend first and foremost.

The offer had been met with incredulity, but Steve had pointed out that things with the trial and his defense would get messy if Eddie lost control if he either tried to weather it alone or find another omega to share it with, and Steve was game if Eddie was. Purely transactional, just two bros helping each other out, never to be spoken about again.

Except neither had been prepared for how compatible they were with sex, even if they weren’t always compatible in their day-to-day friendship. So, after the embarrassment and awkwardness went away, they settled on a deal. When Steve’s heat came around, Eddie would help him out too. And he did not too long later, and it was just as great as the first time too.

And then they had sex when neither rut nor heat was present.

It was drunken sex, sure, celebrating not only Eddie’s freedom with the long trial finally being over but also celebrating the high school diploma Eddie had received in the mail that day, but it was sex all the same. And then it kept happening. Just two bros helping each other let off steam while enjoying some fantastic orgasms. Friends with benefits and that was it.

Except that wasn’t it for Steve.

No, his days of just enjoying being casual ended when he’d fallen in love with Nancy, when the idea of a Winnebago full of pups had begun to seem like something he could actually have, and he’d been chasing that high ever since. Even when he casually dated after Nancy, it has always been in search of someone to share that future with.

Enter Eddie Munson, a ridiculously nerdy and unhinged alpha who loved Steve’s honorary pups as much as Steve himself did. And yeah, they bickered all the time, clashed and argued and didn’t really have much else in common and sometimes jabbed each other with pointed insults from high school, but the sex was fantastic and Eddie was…surprisingly sweet. Sensitive. Caring. Considerate.

Eddie was annoying and hyperactive and made Steve want to tear his hair out sometimes, but he was also exactly the sort of alpha that Steve had always wanted. Steve wasn’t certain when it actually began, but it was when he was watching Eddie carefully roughhouse with the pups one day that he found himself looking forward to how Eddie would be with their pups.

And that horrifying realization had been the beginning of the end.

He knew Eddie didn’t think about him like that. Honestly, how could he? First of all, Eddie deserved better than the town slut, not that Steve ever felt ashamed about being said slut. He liked sex and he though he eventually wanted a happily-ever-after of his own, he wasn’t opposed to sleeping around until he found it. If he ever did.

Now though, realizing that his inner omega had apparently decided on yet another alpha that he knew he could never truly have, he began wondering if he was just doomed to never being properly mated. But then it wasn’t just his inner omega craving Eddie’s alpha. It was Steve himself craving all of Eddie.

He had fallen in love with Eddie Munson. And he didn’t even know when it had happened.

Which, of course, meant that he had to end things. Immediately.

The rejection sickness he’d gotten after Tina’s party had been…intense. He’d been angry too, or really just heartbroken. He’d only been able to push it down, reason with the sickness, when he decided that it was just the alcohol and the stress and the guilt and had decided to apologize for…whatever he needed to apologize for. And then It happened and the sickness was pushed back even further to deal with everything until…

Well, when he saw Nancy and Jonathan and smelled them, he knew it was well and truly over. Then the sickness hit him back harder than ever. He knew he couldn’t suffer through that again, not like that. And he knew with a certainty that losing Eddie would make his previous sickness feel like a walk in the park if he let himself fall even more deeply in love with Eddie than he already was, if he let his inner omega start even more of the courting process than it had already tried.

It hadn’t been pretty. It wasn’t that Eddie had any genuine feelings for him outside of friendship and lust, but Steve suddenly breaking things off had been…complicated. More than he had expected it to be. But Paige had come sniffing around again by then and Steve knew…fuck, he knew how considerate Eddie was.

If he knew that Steve felt the way he had, that Steve’s omega had already claimed him as his alpha, then Eddie would be a self-sacrificing idiot and give Steve what he wanted even if he didn’t want it. To spare Steve that pain. Especially if Steve accidentally got knocked up, which was seeming more and more of a possibility when Steve’s stupid omega brain kept forgetting to take his birth control because it wanted to be knotted and pupped up.

Eddie had his whole life in front of him, and now a chance to actually make it out of Hawkins and live his big rockstar hero dreams. And the chance to be with the only person Steve knew that Eddie ever had actual feelings for. Steve couldn’t take that from him. So he broke up with him…as much as you can break up with someone who was just your friend that you’re ostentatiously just using for good sex.

Eddie had been rightly annoyed when he’d arrived at their regularly scheduled dick appointment time only to be kicked out with blue balls and told that it was never happening again. Among a few other sharp words to get the point across.

Steve probably should have called him before Eddie made it to his house, before Eddie had paid for the dinner he was bringing that night, but Steve couldn’t bring himself to say the words over the phones that for all he knew were still tapped by the government.

Steve could tell that Eddie had been a bit offended too, and worried. Of course Eddie would worry that he wasn’t doing enough in bed, that he wasn’t good enough in bed, which had to be a kick to an alpha’s ego no matter who it was. Steve couldn’t really just say that he was ending things so that Eddie could get with Paige again and move out of Hawkins, however.

So he played up the angle that he was growing bored, that he was looking for something new now, even as his inner omega railed against such lies. He wanted more, certainly, but more with Eddie. Which Eddie couldn’t give him. Sure, Eddie might stick around like a martyr if Steve flashed him that pleading omega look he knew Eddie’s alpha was weak for, but that didn’t mean that Eddie himself could give Steve what he most desperately wanted: Eddie’s heart.

Which led to now, with Eddie meeting with Paige at her big fancy grownup job and no doubt rekindling old flames, and Steve stuck in Hawkins having to return one of those Dipshits and Dingbats books that Dustin had borrowed from Gareth.

The band was practicing, even without their frontman Eddie being present, and as Steve turned off the engine of his car and grabbed the ratty old book in question, he could make out something over the sporadic noise about behind the scenes footage and their eventual rise to fame.

Which…yeah. Steve knew that it wasn’t a question of if but of when. Metal still wasn’t really his preferred style of music, but he’d gone to some shows, had even been to a few of the band’s practices after he and Eddie started messing around, and he knew the boys were talented. Any music exec would be stupid to pass them up.

He grimaced a little behind his sunglasses when, with a discordant screech of Jeff’s guitar, the racket stopped. The boy in question was glaring at him, which…fair, he supposed, since he was the one that broke off the thing with Eddie, but it wasn’t like it was anything more than just sex. Nothing to warrant the glares he was receiving from the whole band.

But then, they’d never really been too keen on Eddie being friends with him, much less hooking up, and it wasn’t like they could hide that with how their scents had begun mingling. Another sign that it was high time to break it off, before it entered beyond accidental courtship and drifted into accidental bonding.

“What are you doing here, Harrington?” Gareth growled, the scent of annoyed alpha only causing Steve to fumble slightly as he brought up one hand in mock surrender and the other holding the book.

“Henderson wanted to make certain you got this back before you left,” he huffed, pushing his sunglasses up over his head to squint at the trio glaring back at him. He waved the book a little, hoping one of them took it from him so he didn’t have to step further into the garage. No one did.

“Why didn’t he just bring it himself instead of sending you of all people?” Gareth scoffed with a small sneer, never having really been Steve’s biggest fan. Not that Steve could really blame him; he knew people like Steve hadn’t made Gareth’s life easy, including Gareth’s own father.

“Ask him yourself, asshole,” Steve muttered, cocking one hand on his hip impatiently. Though the other two were only betas and thus didn’t have much in the way of scents, their posturing didn’t leave any doubt that they didn’t like him.

He just…didn’t know why. Besides Gareth, the other two had seemed relatively okay with Steve hanging around. Jeff had even once been actively friendly, while…uh…fuck. Steve always forgot the other one’s name. Stan? No. Doug? No. Grant? He was fairly certain that was wrong too. Whatever. Anyways, he had only cared that Steve didn’t get in the way of practice or their non-Hellfire DnD games after Eddie graduated.

Now they all looked at him like how they had at the beginning, when they hadn’t trusted the former jock, when they had only seen King Steve and hated everything about him on principle, only seeing another Jason Carver instead of the dude who had stood up for their friend in trial. Whatever. It didn’t matter. It didn’t hurt.

At least, that’s what Steve kept telling himself.

He didn’t let himself think about how Jeff had once clapped him on the shoulder when he had embarrassedly brought some fudge he had made, trying out a new recipe to take to the Hopper-Byers’ during one of their semi-regular get-togethers that had originally cropped up during preparing for Eddie’s trial. Now it just became a thing they did for fun.

He also didn’t think about the other one (Jesus, seriously, what was his name again?) had jokingly argued with Eddie about what class Steve would be, certain that he’d be a basic fighter while Eddie had been adamant that he’d be a paladin. Steve hadn’t known what any of it meant, but the two of them had laughed at the end and it had been with Steve, not at him.

Even Gareth had, on occasion, been almost nice to him, settling Steve on the worn red couch at the back of the garage with noise cancelling headphones and some magazines of his mother’s when practice had run long and Steve was supposed to pick Eddie up to meet up with Jonathan and the others.

Now everyone just stared at him with unconcealed looks of annoyance and disdain. He hated it. Even though it wasn’t them his omega wanted, he still felt another sharp spasm of pain from the rejection of Eddie’s pack.

It must have showed on his face, or the way his body twitched and the arm holding out the book dropped, because a brief flash of concern whisked across Gareth’s expression and he stood up from his seat behind the drums, his nose crinkling.

“You smell like shit, Harrington,” he stated, moving around the drums to get slightly closer. At least the smell of annoyed alpha was dissipating.

“Gee, thanks,” Steve dryly said with a roll of his eyes. He swallowed against the burn of bile in his esophagus and held out the book once more. “Look, just take the damn book so I can go.”

A part of him was tempted just to drop the book, to let it fall and hit the concrete ground uncaring if the edges got fucked up or not. But these were Eddie’s friends and his inner omega wouldn’t let him do anything that might upset the alpha he wanted as his own. Pathetic as that was.

Gareth moved closer then, and Steve finally thought the younger boy would finally take the stupid thing from him, but instead Gareth’s hand shot out to grab hold of his wrist with a frown on his face. The touch of another alpha that wasn’t the one he wanted sent another roil of nausea through Steve’s belly, and he struggled hard to get his arm released, causing Gareth to simply tighten his hold.

“Let go of me!” Steve hissed. He saw the other two move forward towards them, but Gareth waved them back with his free hand, which they reluctantly listened to, though Jeff frowned as he glanced over his shoulder towards the back of the garage.

“You look sick, Harrington,” Gareth said instead of doing as he’d asked. “You smell sick too.”

“He’s right,” the other one, the bassist, said after a moment of consideration while Jeff’s head cocked to the side, an unreadable expression on his face. “I can’t smell you all that well, but you look terrible.”

“Don’t tell me,” Gareth scoffed, taking a long, deep sniff over Steve that caused him to blanche. “You really have the audacity to have rejection sickness when you’re the one who dumped Eddie?”

Steve pursed his lips and grabbed the book with his free hand to shove it at Gareth’s chest, forcing the younger boy to fumble and take it while moving back a step. He glared at them, wiping at his now freed wrist as though he could wipe off Gareth’s touch. Asshole.

“Don’t be such a fucking knothead,” Steve snarled, and no, maybe he didn’t get to have the intimidation of an alpha, but omegas would be fierce in their own ways. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the others who were more or less gaping at him now.

And he knew, okay? He knew it was weird, being sick when he had been the one to call it off, and it wasn’t like they were even anything other than fuck buddies letting off steam together. There had never been anything but friendship and lust between them. But try telling Steve’s omega that. His nesting had been insane.

It was only by some miracle that Eddie hadn’t been clocked in to Steve’s growing emotions and affections. That he hasn’t seen just how delusional Steve had been for that brief moment when he actually thought, maybe, just maybe, just for once the person he liked might like him back, might see him as something other than a stupid, used up, good for nothing, filthy, dirty, worthless—

“Look, I’m not an idiot, okay?” Steve snapped out, flushing not just in anger this time but also embarrassment and shame at the way his eyes suddenly grew wet. He blinked rapidly, his fingers digging into his biceps. “I knew what it was and what it wasn’t. I know it was just sex for Eddie, okay?”

Steve huffed out at Gareth’s suddenly blank expression, pleased that he had at least gotten the jackass to shut the fuck up and stop stinking the place up with his pissed off alpha pheromones. He deeply sighed, moving his sunglasses to hook in the collar of his shirt to run a hand through his hair before glaring at Gareth who had moved a couple steps to the side. Putting more distance between them maybe?

“I know that someone like Eddie and someone like me would never actually happen,” he muttered, and putting it into words with someone else had the bone deep aches from the sickness sending another wave of pain.

“What do you mean, ‘someone like Eddie,’” the bassist scoffed, his hackles rising, though he exchanged looks across the garage with Jeff. Gareth sneered as well, but there was also a shrewdness in his eyes, his nostrils flaring as he took in more of Steve’s scent.

Steve rolled his eyes, throwing up a hand in frustration. He didn’t know why he was even still here, why he was trying to defend or justify himself, but his omega was telling him that these were his alpha’s packmates and thus deserved the truth.

“Like I said, I’m not an idiot,” he reluctantly said. “Eddie is…Eddie’s…” Steve huffed at himself next, scrubbing his hand over his eyes at the prickly feeling of fresh tears. He normally wasn’t much of a crier, but the hormones affecting him from the rejection sickness had him closer to blubbering at all hours of the day more than he would like.

Worse even than when it had cut through him after Nancy.

“Eddie is brilliant, okay?” he finally managed to get out, even if he was annoyed at needing to say this at all. He wished he could have just dropped the book off and left. “He’s so much braver than he gives himself credit for, he’s amazing with the pups, he’s creative and smart and and considerate and kind and probably one of the best people I’ve ever known. He’s a goddamn hero, whether he wants to believe it or not.”

Though these three had no idea what Eddie had gone through, not truly, they did know that there was more to the story than they had been told. Steve had always been quite vocal about talking about how amazing Eddie had been for the trial, and though he had to flub some of the details, everything he said had been true. Eddie was a hero, even if Eddie himself always denied that.

“And he’s hot,” Steve couldn’t help adding, with another small flush of embarrassment. “He has those stupid doe eyes that you want to spill all your secrets to, and that stupid grin that’s larger than his face, and the stupid way that even when he can’t seem to sit still, his entire focus is on you when you talk…”

Steve scoffed, ashamed of how wet it sounded, and rolled his eyes as he once more wrapped both arms tightly around himself. “And then there’s me. The asshole. The douchebag extraordinaire. The bully. The slut whose only redeeming quality is how easy of a lay I am and daddy’s money, which, by the way, I’m probably being cut off from soon, so really, what else do I have to offer except a used up pussy half the town has been in?” he sneered.

His self-hatred was probably a little too obvious with that, and he didn’t know why he said all of that anyways. Probably it had just been festering away inside of him with no one to unload on, at least no one who wouldn’t try to soothe him and lie to him and say that he wasn’t any of those things.

And yeah, maybe saying he’d slept with half the town was an exaggeration, but he had probably slept with at least half the chicks (and some of the guys) in high school, no matter their designation.

The problem was that Steve’s omega craved human connection. He never really had it growing up, his alpha father too focused on everything wrong with Steve and his beta mother too focused on making certain her husband didn’t stray to inbetween an omega’s legs…again. So Steve found physical comfort where he could, even if it meant opening thighs or mouth for anyone who shot him an interested look.

And then there was Eddie. Eddie, who never treated Steve like something shameful. Eddie, who had admitted he was wrong about Steve, even if Steve didn’t think he had been. Eddie, who even in rut had checked in on Steve and made certain he felt safe and unharmed. Eddie, who for a short amount of time almost made Steve feel good enough.

Which was the problem. Because Eddie didn’t mean it the way that Steve wanted him to, didn’t see Steve as anything other than a friend he could conveniently get off with, an omega who would never form attachments or come up with unrealistic ideas about them.

Except Steve thought he had probably been attached even before Eddie’s rut. Had too many ideas that were beyond unrealistic; they were straight up impossible. Eddie would never want Steve the way that Steve wanted Eddie.

Not when he had someone like Paige waiting for him, not when he had a future ahead of him outside of this stupid town. Steve couldn’t trap Eddie into a life he never wanted.

“So, what, you broke it off because Eddie doesn’t love you?” Jeff finally asked, his voice sounding odd and a bit louder than necessary. Steve wished he’d shut up. “You’re a used up slut of an omega with no redeeming qualities so obviously Eddie would never want to actually be with you outside of sex because he’s such a great guy and you’re not, is that it?”

Steve didn’t know why Jeff was repeating what Steve had said like that, but the words still caused him to flinch back slightly to hear someone else say them. He glared at Jeff, even as he had to hastily wipe away a traitorous stray tear that had slipped down his cheek.

“What does any of that matter,” the bassist asked. “Why would that send you into rejection sickness if you know nothing could ever come of this thing you two had? You were just using him for sex too, weren’t you?”

Steve’s frown cut across to the other beta, brow furrowing. Why did he sound weird, like he was leading Steve to say something he absolutely could not say? Not because it wasn’t true, but because it would break his heart to say it out loud.

“Come on, Harrington,” Gareth took up the goading next, taking a predatory step towards Steve who hastily took a step back. “You were just fucking, weren’t you? It didn’t mean anything to you. You were just treating Eddie like some glorified sex toy to get off, admit it. Just after an easy knot.”

“That’s not true,” Steve muttered, ducking his chin down even as he glared at Gareth with all he was worth. “I would never…” He shook his head in frustration. “That’s not how it was.”

“Nah, I think that’s exactly how it was,” Gareth said with a cruel smirk. “Why else would you have dragged him around, using him whenever you needed a good dicking. You got bored of him, isn’t that it? That’s what you said. You had enough of trailer trash like him, your bit of rough and rumble, and so you booted him so you could move on to the next target. What, gonna crawl back to Hagan next?”

Steve jerked back as though slapped. “That’s not true!” he repeated in a louder shout. “I would never use Eddie like that. He’s not trailer trash. He’s better than anyone else in this goddamned town, which is why he has to leave and never look back.”

Gareth smirked, his scent turning pleased, like Steve had said exactly what he wanted to hear. “So you broke up with him because you thought he deserved better?” he mocked, stepping closer again, though this time Steve didn’t budge. He glared furiously at Gareth, his chest heaving with his fury at the boy’s words. “Why the hell would you ever care about trailer trash like him?”

“Because I love him, dammit!” Steve yelled, eyes snapping with all the pent up emotions he never let himself actually feel, and—oh.

It truly did break his heart to say those words aloud. Steve’s face crumpled immediately, all the tears he’d been fighting back now overflowing his eyes spilling down both cheeks.

Even Gareth reacted, taking a step back and further to the side, obviously putting more distance between him and Steve’s distressed omega smell. The other boys shifted uncomfortably, likewise disturbed even without the superior senses to pick up just how much of Steve’s distress and rejection sickness was eating away at him. God, Steve felt so pathetic.

Hastily wiping at his face (not that it mattered as fresh tears continually replaced those wiped away), nose snotty and leaking, Steve glared as much as he could at the three of them. He was so angry, and so hurt, and so resigned to know that this changed nothing.

“Are you happy now?” he spat out, hating how his voice warbled and cracked. “Do you think I’m seriously stupid enough to think I ever had a chance? That I wasn’t anything more than an easy lay for him too? People like me don’t deserve happy endings. Not like Eddie does. He was going to end things anyway so I just did it for him. Assholes,” he muttered, finally turning away to leave because what else was there to say? How much more could he be hurt?

Steve paused. Right.

Turning back around, he bared his teeth as he pointed aggressively at the younger boys, shoulders back and tone once more falling back into the old familiar role of King Steve, even through the tears. “And don’t you lot say shit about this to anybody. Not to Eddie, not to the kids, not even to your fucking grandmas, are we understood?”

Jeff snorted, and Steve hated him more than he ever had for the amused look on his face. “Oh, we won’t say anything. Don’t worry, Stevie.”

Hurt clawed its way back up his throat, jaw quivering at the old familiar nickname, his sickness sending bile he had to rapidly swallow back down. All he wanted was to crawl into bed and wallow and tried to forget the alpha he wanted more than anything to be his and his alone.

Turning back around, Steve shoved his glasses back on his face before wrapped his arms around himself as he made his way back towards his car, fighting back the sobs that wanted to overtake him as he felt the rejection over and over and over again with every step away from his alpha’s pack.

He almost wished he had never met Eddie at all, had never met someone who, for such a short time, made him feel seen and heard and, biggest lie of all, like he was worth something after all.

As if he could ever be more than the bullshit he knew he was.

~

“You get all that?” Gareth asked finally after the three of them watched Steve’s car drive away. He glanced over his shoulder as Jeff moved around the drum set to the camcorder they’d set up to film today’s practice.

Jeff fiddled with the device that had been hiding in plain sight this whole time, the red light indicating it was recording until Jeff switched it off. He pressed another button and the side popped open, allowing him to pull out the vhs with a triumphant wiggle of his brows.

Gareth grinned at the other two with a pleased set to his shoulders, two matching grins meeting his own. “Excellent. After all, we said we wouldn’t say anything to Eddie. Not our fault if he overhears something he wasn’t supposed to when viewing our practice session,” he said with an easy shrug.

“Thank god, because I was sick of his moping. Should we send it overnight express to him now, or let them suffer a little longer?” Jeff laughed, wiggling the vhs in his hand.

“God, I’d say let them suffer because they are going to insufferable after this, but Eddie would skin us alive if we let his omega suffer like that for a moment longer than necessary,” Gareth grimaced, the others wincing in agreement.

“Ugh. And we thought they were bad before,” came the grumbling response, and Gareth could only snort as he glanced at the boy on the bass.

“How soon until they’re pupped up do you think?” Jeff slyly teased.

“After Eddie sees that tape?” Gareth asked with a roll of his eyes. “Same day, Jeffy. Same fucking day.”

Still, Gareth knew they were all three pleased for their friend, and as they ended practice early to get the tape sent out as soon as possible, he had the distinct feeling that when they left town in a few days, Steve would be with them.

-

Hostage tag: @derythcorvinus

Promised tag: @katyawriteswhump

[richardsletters]

"Herlaka, Hi my warmest regards to you and your daughter. Ever go to planetariums and museums when you were in school? We used to go to em all the time. Which are your favorite type shoes? I like to see girls wearing sandals woth laces up to knee. Are you Reading any books at the moment? I like sci-fi western and true crime. Ever play the game naked twister? Do you like belly dancing costumes? Girls look hot in em. Have you ever been on a horse? Have you noticed how pics change color in sunlight? Do you like being tickled? Ever have a rocking horse toy? Girls seem to like em. Ever seen the fiirst movie on me? Its pretty bad but ending is accurate. Do you like to star and cloud gaze? Its relaxing. I was in a car chase in L.A that want on for miles. I had a brand new Cadillac. I ended up doing 6 months in jail for it. Ever seen the vídeo under the bridge by Red Hot Chili Peppers? I used to walk the street the singer is on. Do you like getting massages? Ever been on ahelicopter? Its like riding through the air in a small car. I got taken to the airport in one on my way here. Whats the fastest you've been in a car? I went up to 120mph in a Benz. Put it on cruise control and stuck me head out the sunroof. HA Ever hear of Santa Monica Pier? It has arcades rides and a corousel thats over 100 year old. This is where I did. You farewell but never goodbye. <3 your friend Richard"

"If your ever in Los Angeles be sure to cruise sunset strip blud - its the best I would start in downtown L.A and end up at the beach the street itself passes through Beverly Hills and Hollywood nightclubs thats where the doors and Van Halen got their start it would take me a few hours to reach the ocean another place to visit is the Amtrak Union Station alot of scenes in movies are filmed there heres a story… one time I must of been around is I jumped on a slow moving train to hitch a ride to where I was going by the time I got there the train had speeded up I jumped off anyway I ended getting pretty bruised up but had a laugh about it anyway"

[promise-you-doie]

K. Doyoung | From Home

Feeling overwhelmed by leaving everything familiar behind, you find solace in meeting Doyoung, who exudes a comforting familiarity that reminds you of home. His presence ignites a passionate fire within you, drawing you closer and easing the transition into your new chapter of life.

Doyoung x Reader (Strangers to lovers)

12k words

Mainly fluffy, a little angsty, suggestive.

Playlist

Part 1 - Coming Home

No smut, but this is a bit more suggestive than any of the other things I've put out. (Don't make fun of me, please; I'll cry.) This was only supposed to be 6k words, but I didn't wanna make you guys wait for a part three. Feedback is much appreciated. Thank you. :)

It was just another Saturday night. Your window was cracked half open, and the breeze from outside allowed itself in, brushing past the skin of your arm while you reviewed the notes from Thursday's lecture. Your roommate was long gone, so you had the room to yourself. This meant you got to play your music as loudly as you wanted without her complaining that it was "trash" or "boring."

You hummed along to the song and tapped your pen against the thin paper while checking the time on your alarm clock. Then, you tap your phone to see if you've received any missed calls or messages in the past two minutes.

You hadn't.

With a long, deep sigh, you returned to your notes and continued studying—until you heard your phone ring and Jaehyun's name flash across your screen. You rushed to answer your phone, your grin wide, your eyes bright.

"Hey, beautiful." When you accepted the call, Jaehyun's smile was as big as yours. You watched him rest in his bed, and you went to do the same. "I miss you."

"I miss you too, Jae." You pout. "I really wish you were here."

"I wish you were here." His voice is clear through your phone speaker, causing butterflies to erupt in the pit of your stomach. If this wasn't love, you didn't know what it was. You had your whole life planned around Jaehyun, and so far, everything has been going exactly as planned.

"I can't wait 'til you come back," he added, wiping the smile right off your face.

"I'm not coming back." You whispered.

He asks, "Why not?" You watch him shift on his bed to look at you. He's obviously confused; it doesn't take a genius to see it. His smile of adoration is long gone, and his eyes aren't as gentle as they were when you first answered the call.

"There's nothing there for me. Everything I need is here in L.A." You explain.

"What about me?" His voice was soft, but not the kind of soft you were used to. It was different; it almost broke you.

"Well… I thought you could come here." You flashed your doe eyes into the camera and mustered up a sincere smile to hide your nervousness about his reaction. You never talked about life after college; you just kind of assumed that he loved you enough to come with you.

You were wrong.

"Why would I do that?" His eyebrows furrowed, his tone almost degrading.

"I just thought you would because then we could be together. I hate long-distance—you know that—and I just want to be with you." You began rambling and rubbing your hands against each other to distract yourself from crying.

"The city has never been my thing; I don't see why you won't just come back home. What does Los Angeles have that Connecticut doesn't?"

"Everything, Jae. Nobody knows me here. I can start over, pursue my career, and live the life I have dreamt of since I was a little girl." Your voice was shaky, and you hated it. It felt like the air was fighting against you as you began choking over your own words.

"This is stupid." He laughed and looked away from the camera, unintentionally flashing his dimple as he did so.

"Stupid?" You repeat

"We've always talked about finding an apartment here and moving in together. Now, suddenly, you're in L.A. and want to abandon me?"

"I'm not abandoning you, Jae; I just really, really don't wanna go back there." You stress. He missed when you dried the warm tears on your cheek with the balls of your wrists.

"It feels like you are."

"I'm not." You murmured, looking down and tugging at the ends of your shirt.

"Well, you don't want to come back, and I don't want to go to L.A. So now what?" he asked. He's almost three thousand miles away, but the way he looks at you through the camera makes you feel like he can see right through you.

You mumble, "I don't know." Before you hear a loud sigh come through the phone's speaker, Jaehyun presses his lips into a thin line and throws his hand over his head to wipe his face once.

You could tell that he was frustrated, and you hated that you were the reason why. You thought to apologize, but you knew that it wouldn't help anything. So you remained quiet and waited for him to say something to break the awkward silence.

"Maybe you should get some sleep. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Okay, I love yo-" Your boyfriend wastes no time hanging up the phone and leaving you to sit in your own quietude.

That was your first argument, and after that, everything just went downhill. Your phone calls got shorter and shorter. Some nights, he wouldn't even call, and when he did call, it always ended in an argument. You tried dragging out your relationship for as long as possible, and you knew he was doing the same.

But eventually, it grew to a point when you started to dread his calls. Eventually, you started questioning whether you were still in a relationship. Eventually, you began to wonder if you even wanted to be in a relationship anymore.

Another Saturday night, spent in your dorm room alone. This time, instead of studying, you chose to order in and watch Netflix. You're three episodes in when your phone begins to ring. You pause your show and pick up your cell to find Jaehyun's contact flashing across your screen.

Hesitantly, you swipe to answer and prop your phone up on the table so you don't have to hold it.

"Hey, baby." His baritone voice rings through your ears in a way that no other voice could. Things might've been rocky, but you loved him—you were sure of that.

"Hey, Jaehyun." You chipped, leaning back against the couch so he could see your complete frame.

"Jaehyun?" He repeats, obviously dissatisfied.

You ask, "What?" And look closer to see the displeased look on his face.

"What happened to Jae?" He queries.

You frown, "Could we not argue today?" Ending your sentence with a "Please."

"Okay, y/n." He's being sarcastic, and you can tell. You overlook it and move on to the next subject because you'd much rather end the call with "I love you" than another heated discussion that causes one of you to hang up abruptly.

"How was your day?" You ask, hoping to change the subject.

"Boring, but I've been thinking about you all day." You watch his frown grow into a smile, which makes you feel at ease.

"Oh yeah, What were you thinking about?"

"Remember when we used to sneak out at night?" He reminisces. "The things we used to do." His smile shines on your screen; you can see his dimples and crescent eyes.

"You know your mom started calling me her son-in-law?" He brings it up suddenly.

"She's annoying." You roll your eyes and feel a sense of peace—finally, you can have a normal conversation with him.

"So when you come back, I was thinking that we could try out this restaurant that just opened. Everyone's been talking about it, but I didn't wanna try it without you." You didn't know if he was doing this on purpose or if he really just ignored everything that ever left your mouth.

"We talked about this, Jaehyun. I'm not coming back."

"Listen, I know L.A. seems new and exciting, but this is your home, whether you like it or not."

"I'm not doing this with you tonight." You breathe, picking up your phone to get ready to hang up, when he sighs and says, "I don't understand why you're being so stubborn."

"I'm not being stubborn. You just aren't listening to me."

"Okay, so now this is my fault?" He sits up and picks up the phone to see you better.

"I'm not blaming you. I just wished you cared enough about me to know that I'm happy here." He remains quiet, so you continue. "I don't wanna go back to Connecticut, and if you don't understand that, then maybe…" You pause, tears already beginning to form and your voice shaking just at the thought, "We should break up."

It falls quiet for about ten long seconds. Suddenly, you become hyper-aware of his background noises, his lack of facial expression, and the breath that you've been holding since you last spoke.

"Okay," he sighs, "If that's what you want." The call is dropped as soon as those words meet your ears. Once again, you're left to deal with your own silence and a fresh new set of warm tears that stroll easily down your cheeks.

"Hey girl, I—" Joy stops when she notices how puffy and red your eyes are. With that, she closes the door to console you. Nothing else is said when she wraps her slim arms around you to pull you into a hug, holding your head to her chest and patting it softly.

"I don't know about this." You look down at the dress Joy picks out for you. At first glance, it seems that the dress is two sizes too small for you, but that's the least of your worries. You were more concerned about coming up with an excuse to get you out of going out tonight.

"We have to get you out of this room. The energy you're harboring here is not healthy for your soul. And—" You hold your hand and nod to stop your roommate before she goes into another one of her lectures.

"I'll go. Just give me the dress."

The bar is small and intimate. You notice that everyone here knows each other. Everyone except you. Joy loosely holds your wrist in her hand as she drags you around to meet different people. You recognize a few of them, and most of them you don’t.

"Oh, there he is." She squeals, tightening her grip on your wrist and pulling you towards the tall, dark-haired stranger who already has his eyes on you.

"Doyoung, this is Y/n, and Y/n, this is Doyoung." Joy greets both of you and brings both of her hands to her cheeks when you both say "Hi" at the same time.

You don't notice when Joy slips away; you're too busy staring at the beautiful stranger in front of you. "I don't think I've seen you around before. Are you new?" He asks first

You nod your head, "Yeah, I'm a first-year."

Your eyes never leave him; there's some type of gravitational force pulling you closer to him. Something about him feels different, something no one has ever made you feel—not even Jaehyun.

Oh, Jaehyun.

"Sorry, I gotta go." You unintentionally stop him mid-sentence, unaware that he was even talking. And you run off faster than it took for him to say, "Okay." He blinks once, and you're gone.

Joy watches you leave the bar from afar, chasing after you before you can get too far. Nearly twisting her ankle in the high black heels she was wearing, she catches up to you but not without asking, "What happened?"

She doesn't get a verbal answer or any response at all, but she knows. She knows all too well.

Joy lets out a long sigh, "Let's go home." She holds her hand out, and you take it, allowing her to lead you back home.

You sat curled up in your bed with the prized bear that Jaehyun won you from the fair two years ago and his contact pulled up on your phone.

Your fingers dance around the phone, trying to find the right words. You want to tell him you miss him and you're sorry, but you're also afraid. What if he's mad at you? What if he had already found someone new? What if he never really loved you and was just waiting for you to break up with him?

All these questions swirl in your mind, and that should've been enough to stop you from texting him, but you let your heart take control. Mindlessly, you begin typing out, "I miss you; please call me." Just before you can hit send, you get a notification for a text message from an unknown number.

Unknown: Hey, this is Doyoung. Joy gave me your number.

Joy's already watching you from the corner of the room. When you look up, she's nervously gazing at you. Biting her bottom lip in anticipation.

"I know I should've asked you first, but he's a good guy. I think you should give him a chance." She defends herself, although she doesn't really have to. You could never be mad at her.

"Fine." You roll your eyes and pick up your phone to answer him.

Unsure of how to respond, you just typed "Hey," hoping that he would carry on the conversation.

"He's asking to hang out." You confessed to Joy when you held up your phone for her to see, even though you knew she couldn't see anything from where she was sitting.

"Tell him yes." She says urgently, jumping in her spot.

You obey her and use your thumbs to type out, "Sure, what time do you have in mind?"

He replies not even a second later with, "How about tonight?"

"He wants to hang out tonight," you shoot your head up.

"Oh, he's really interested in you.' Joy squeaks,

"What do I say?"

"Yes!" She squeals again, and you listen.

Jaehyun was long forgotten as you walked along the dark beach, listening to the sound of waves crashing in. The sky was pitch black; the only visible light was the moon, and the street lamps lined up a few yards away.

You can see Doyoung's face visibly; he's just as handsome as you remembered him from earlier in the evening, although you weren't expecting him to change in just a few hours.

"I love the beaches here," you admit.

He sounds, "Yeah?" While looking down at you and, you nod

"They're the reason I chose to come to California." The weather was warm on a Friday night, but the breeze coming in from the shore had you pulling down the sleeves of your turquoise blue sweater.

Doyoung noticed it and slipped his jacket off to drape it over your shoulders, asking, "Where are you from?"

You answer, "Connecticut." As you continue walking along the dark beach, taking in the warmth of his blue varsity jacket.

"Wow, you're far away from home, aren't you?"

"I guess." You agree. The waves come in just a little harder and leave your feet wet and sandy.

"Well, how do you like California?" He asked

"It's beautiful. Very different from Connecticut," you boasted, feeling a sense of achievement since you had lived out your childhood dream. A subtle smile fell upon your face.

"I'm glad you're here," Doyoung said.

"Me too." You reply, looking up at him.

You aren't thinking about your ex for the first time in two months, and it feels nice.

You hated the student library, its familiarity, its blandness, and the fact that the staff always kept the air conditioning so high. But you needed to study, and this was the best place you could think of since your roommate took over your dorm to have her boyfriend over.

The library was awful, but you got used to it after a while. All it took was some warm tea and a set of earphones for you to lose track of time. Two minutes turned into an hour, and an hour turned into three. So, what should have been a 30-minute study session became a five-hour study day.

Granted, you did get distracted a few times.

The library is relatively full, but Doyoung still easily picks you out. He slides into the empty chair behind you and taps your shoulder. "Have you been here all day?" He asks.

You lie and answer, "No." But the snack wrappers and coffee cups tell him otherwise.

Knowing you aren't telling the truth, he asks, "What time did you arrive?" Resting his cheek on the palm of his hand to look at you.

You feel the heat rush to your cheeks before your turn to avoid his gaze. "Um, probably around like… 2ish?" You mumble to where he can barely hear you.

"You ever been to Karaoke?" He asks suddenly, causing you to whip your head around at his odd question.

"No." You answer.

Doyoung doesn't ask any further questions before he reaches to clean up your notebooks, and you do the same. "What are you doing?" You ask, still packing up the rest of your stuff.

"There's a karaoke spot around here." He takes your bag and swings it around his shoulder.

Your eyes widen instinctively when you stand up beside him. "Doyoung, I can't sing." You whine, but he only laughs, flashing arguably the prettiest smile you've ever seen.

"You don't have to know how to sing; it's just supposed to be fun," he says, guiding you out of the library with your bag still hanging off his shoulder. No matter how much you protest and argue, you still end up in a karaoke booth.

"No," you shake your head and wave your hands around. "You don't want to hear me sing, I promise."

"I do." Doyoung insists, pushing the microphone in your direction. Despite his charming smile and persistence, you're still reluctant.

It takes him putting on one of your favorite songs for you to start humming along. He makes you comfortable by randomly singing along to the words on the screen and pressing the microphone to your lips so you can sing with him.

Which you do. Your anxiousness is long gone, and you begin to dance to the beat with him beside you. You're lost in the moment, but Doyoung is smiling at you as if you hung the sun, moon, and stars with your own two hands.

"Where were you?" Joy scolds before you fully walk into the dorm.

"I was studying." You shrugged and closed the door behind you.

"Libray closed an hour ago," Your best friend stands up to you and folds her arms over her chest. "And it only takes 15 minutes to walk back." She continues. "You can't lie to me, Y/n."

You mutter, "And then I went out to karaoke with Doyoung." As you plop down on your bed with a slight grin, you say, "Well, that, and we got something to eat afterward."

That's when you see her glare change, and her smile grows wider than yours. "Why didn't you just say that?" She sat down right next to you. "You should've stayed out longer."

Your best friend slips her arm around yours and rests her head on your shoulder. "How did it go? Did you kiss?"

Joy is fully dressed, hair and makeup done, and ready to head out the door. Meanwhile, you're still slouched on your bed, hair pushed up into a messy bun, and glasses hanging loosely above your nose. "I don't wanna go," you whine, arms crossed over your chest.

"Doyoung is going to be there," Joy sings, hoping that will be enough to get you out of bed.

It's not.

"You're terrible at lying," you mumble, unconvinced.

"Please, Y/n. He'll come if you're there," Joy pleads, her hands clasped together as she does her best to give you puppy eyes.

"I'm not going just because he's there," you attest, but you still push your glasses up against your nose and roll off the bed to get dressed.

The "party" isn't really a party. There's just a small selection of people gathered around Kun's place. Most of them are familiar, as in you can put a name to a face. But there are still a few that you have to be acquainted with.

You occupy yourself with the snack table, seeing that Joy is too concerned with her boyfriend to notice that you're gone. Occasionally, you scan the area to see if Doyoung has shown up yet.

"Hey." You hear a somewhat familiar voice come from behind you, and when you turn around, you're faced with a broad, pearly white smile and long black locks of hair.

"Oh hey, Yuta." You smile to match his.

"I didn't think I'd see you here," he comments as he passes you a bottle of water. "You're always so hung up on that imaginary boyfriend of yours."

You press your lips into a thin line. You could try to convince him for the hundredth time that Jaehyun actually existed, or you could protect your energy and peace tonight by simply ignoring him.

You choose to argue.

"I don't know how else to prove to you that he's real. I'm starting to think that you're choosing to stay in denial because it makes you feel better for trying to flirt with someone in a relationship." You say calmly before opening your water bottle to take a sip.

You can feel his smirk from the corner of your eye before he opens his mouth to say, "I'll believe it when I see it."

That's when you feel that sharp feeling in the pit of your stomach, "Actually, we broke up." You look down to close your water bottle to avoid eye contact. "So you probably won't ever see it."

Yuta only laughs, "That's a new one."

"Will you leave her alone?" Joy waltzes in, "She doesn't want you. Go find some other freshman girl to bother." Your best friend wraps her arm around yours to pull you away from him.

"We were just talking." He defends, but she doesn't stick around to listen, and neither do you with you tied to her arm.

"Doyoung's been looking for you." She gushes and gestures her head towards the tall brown-haired boy conversing with Kun. He looks up almost as if he can feel your eyes on him, and his hands wave around as a greeting.

"Hey." You say first, a little too happily for your own liking.

Doyoung opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out when he's interrupted by Taeyong.

"Alright, guys, we're playing truth or dare." He calls loudly by Doyoungs ear. You can't help but wonder if it was on purpose or not.

"Truth or dare?" Joy repeats, "Isn't that for kids?" She insults but moves towards the living room where everyone else is, her arm still hung around yours.

Everyone gathered around in a circle, Joy on one side of you and Doyoung on the other.

Taeyong starts the game off with "Y/n!" He yells suddenly, and you quickly learn that he likes to startle people. "Truth or dare?"

"um, dare." You murmur.

"I dare you to make out with Yuta." Taeyong grins. You don't have to look at Yuta to know that he's doing the same.

"She'll pass," Joy speaks up for you so you don't have to. Then she reaches for the cup in front of you to drink your penalty for not going through with the dare. "Next." She hisses when the cup is empty, and her eyes are squeezed shut.

You hear Yuta mumble "Boring" under his breath, but he's not looking in either of your directions.

Kun speaks next, "Doyoung truth or dare?" And Doyoung doesn't give him the opportunity to further the question before he's downing the cup in front of him.

"Wow." Kun presses his lips into a thin line while the rest of the group laughs at the interaction.

The game goes on smoothly. Doyoung dares Taeyong to eat a spoonful of crushed red pepper, and Kun gets asked about his "daddy kink." Eventually, it becomes your turn. You scan the room for possible candidates, but you only have one name on your mind: "Doyoung," you utter. "Truth or dare."

"Dare." He confidently answers.

"I dare you to make out with her right now," Joy yells as you devise a dare to give him. And before you could take back what she said, Doyoung leans in to kiss your cheek. It's not anything significant, but it's more than enough to leave you flustered.

"I said make out, as in tongue her down. But that's good enough, I guess." Joy rolled her eyes.

"I wonder how her boyfriend would feel about that." Yuta grimaces, his head cocked to the side. That's what breaks you out of your little love trance. You chose to ignore him, and thankfully, your best friend does too. Even though you see her glaring at him with her tongue poking through her cheek as she tries to hold her composure.

"Hey." Doyoung reaches beside you to help clean the floor once the party is over.

You stand up straight to face him, "Hey."

"Joy told me to take you home," he says, pulling the bottles out of your hand.

"You don't have to."

"I don't mind." He speaks faster than it takes for you to finish your sentence.

"Oh- okay." You nod, "Let me just get my stuff."

Your third time in Doyoung's car is more awkward than your first. The music fills the silence, but you still feel obligated to say something. The only issue is that you don't know what.

"Are you cold?" Doyoung asks, dragging his hand to adjust the heat while leaving his other hand on the steering wheel.

"Just a little." You say.

And then it falls quiet again, which only leads you to think. Twiddling your thumbs when you blurt, "I don't have a boyfriend. Well, I did, but we broke up. But that was a while ago. I haven't talked to him since."

"Joy already told me," He stops you.

"What all did she tell you?"

"Just that you were feeling down since your breakup, and to be patient with you." He answers casually and politely. His focus is on the road, but you're still watching him.

"I'm not feeling that down. I mean, it's been months. I'm sure he's not thinking about me anymore. So I should move on." You stop when you realize you've been rambling again. "Right?" you ask.

"What do you think?" Doyoung flips the question back around.

"I think that I'm young," The car's quieter than it was when you first got in, possibly because the music had magically stopped playing in the middle of your conversation. Doyoung glances at you, but only for a really quick second before his eyes go back to the road ahead of him. "and I deserve to be happy. It's always been a dream of mine to go to school in California and start a new life. And now I'm here in L.A." You finish with, "So I should be happy."

"I agree." Doyoung nods. He pulls into the parking lot of your dorm and turns to look at you with a subtle smile.

This is the part where you're supposed to confess. Tell him that you really like spending time with him and possibly even making out in the back of his car.

But you don't.

You simply match his smile and say, "Thank you." You add, "For giving me a ride home and for listening."

"Anytime."

Your dorm room is just big enough for Joy and you. Although sometimes it got a little stuffy, it was usually really fun. Living with your best friend meant that every night was girls' night.

The only thing between you and your roommate was two boxes of pizza because you couldn't decide on toppings.

"So~" Joy drags out as she sets the crust of her pizza down in front of you.

You sound, "Yeah?" before taking another bite.

"How are things going with Doyoung?"

"You keep asking me this." You laugh and roll your eyes. You're furthest from annoyed, but the question started to get a bit old. "We're just friends."

"Oh, 'just friends,' my ass. I see the way you look at eachother." She attests.

"It doesn't mean anything." You shrug

"It means everything. It's like Shakespeare said 'eyes are windows to the soul."

"Shakespeare wasn't talking about me and Doyoung," you retort. “Plus, he couldn't even spell, so why would I trust his judgment?"

"Okay, fine. Forget about Shakespeare. Even a blind baby could see that you and Doyoung are into each other, and it's not just as friends." Joy drags her index finger out to prove her point.

You feel your phone vibrate by your leg but ignore it while making your next point. "Even if we did like each other, I just got out of a relationship. It wouldn't be fair to him if I'm not emotionally available."

When you finish speaking, you reach out to pick up your phone and check your alerts.

"It's been six months. At this point, you're just wasting both of your time," Joy says while you continue reading your messages. "You can ignore me, but you know I'm right."

"You are," you reply, preoccupied with your phone, which has Doyoung's contact information pulled up on your screen.

"Exactly- wait, really?"

"No, I was just trying to shut you up." You laugh as you throw your phone down and rest back on your palms. "We're just friends, nothing more."

"We'll see how long that lasts." Joy counters.

Joy was right, although you can't really recall a time she was ever wrong. Your feelings for Doyoung were growing rapidly by the day, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. Everything in L.A was new and different; sometimes, it got overwhelming. But Doyoung made it easier. His presence felt so familiar, almost like you had known him your whole life.

You began to spend more and more time around him, whether meeting him at the student library to study or going out for ice cream. Sometimes, you'd spend hours talking on the beach, and sometimes, you'd just sit in his apartment and watch movies.

Joy noticed that the more you guys hung out, the less you talked about your ex, but she tried not to bring it to your attention. She was too afraid that she might accidentally stir up some hidden emotions.

Unfortunately, you only needed alcohol to bring those emotions out of you.

It's Friday night, and you're sitting drunk in a bar that Joy dragged you to again, crying over the ex you hadn't thought about in over six months.

With your head tucked into the crease of your elbows, you cry, "I miss him." To your best friend, who's trying to say anything and everything she can to take your mind off of Jaehyun.

"Look, girl, they have those burger nachos you like." She points to the menu, but none of it catches your attention.

"What are you doing?" She snaps her head, even though she already knows what you're doing

"I'm gonna call him."

You struggle to enter your password and pull up his contact information, but when you finally do, a hand rests on your shoulder—a hand you're sure doesn't belong to your best friend. When you turn around, you see Doyoung and his ever-so-sweet smile.

"Doyoung?" You call out.

"Let's get you home," he says loud enough for you to hear. You don't fight when he tugs on your arm to get you to stand up, and within seconds, you're being lifted off your feet as he carries you out of the bar and into the car.

You slur, "I can walk," but you don't make any attempt to escape his arms. Instead, wrap your arms around his neck and rest your head against his chest, close enough to hear and feel his heartbeat.

He gently seats you in the passenger seat of his car and reaches over to put your seatbelt on. Suddenly, you're no longer thinking about your ex. The familiar scent of Doyoung's car puts your mind at ease as you curl up in your seat and gaze out of the window. Eventually, you close your eyes when you begin to feel motion sickness.

Doyoung carries you into his apartment when Joy texts him that it's probably best that you stay with him for the night. He asks, "Why?" But she never responds, and he doesn't ask again.

First, he lays you down on his couch. You're just half asleep when he does so. You're barely awake to know that it was Doyoung's arms you feel managing your body weight and his voice telling you to stay put while he goes to get a washcloth.

When he returns, he gently uses the warm cloth to scrub the makeup off your face and his thumb and index finger to turn your head to ensure he has everything.

"Okay, here, drink this." He almost whispers, sitting you up against the arm of the couch as he puts the bottle of water against your lips. You tilt your head back so the water can easily flow down your throat.

When the water is gone, Doyoung helps you lie back on the couch so he can slip your shoes off and lay the polyester blanket over you.

His eyes trailed over you, and seeing that your feet fell off the couch and your neck was propped on the arm of the sofa, he shook his head.

"This isn't going to work," he says mostly to himself. With that, he lifts you off the couch and carries you to his bedroom, where he lays you in the bed and tucks you under the covers.

"Is this comfortable?" He asks, and you nod with your thumb in the air.

"This is perfect; thank you, Doie."

He smiles at the nickname. "Alright, get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

"Okay." You sing and roll over in his bed.

The following day, you wake up to the smell of bacon and other breakfast foods. Turning in the bed, you realize that the room you're in and the bed you're lying in isn’t yours. You jump up with widened eyes, forgetting everything that happened last night.

When you remember who the room belongs to, Doyoung knocks on the door. "Are you awake yet?"

You shuffle more in the bed before you call out, "Yeah." He slowly opened the door. Doyoung was fully dressed, with a brown leather backpack hanging off his shoulder.

"I have to go to work, but there's food on the stove. You're welcome to stay here if you'd like."

"Okay." You nod, and so does he before he turns to close the door behind him. You go to lie back down on the bed when he nearly barges back into the room. "Oh, I left a set of clothes for you if you want to change. Towels are in the bathroom, and there's extra soap in the cabinet. I don't know if there's a specific brand that you prefer."

When he sees you smile, he smiles, "Thank you, Doie." You say.

That's all that needed to be said for Doyoung to nod "Of course" and softly close the door behind him.

You knew Doyoung's apartment like the back of your hand; that's how much time you spent there. His place was clean and beautifully decorated, so it looked bigger than it actually was. However, you liked it because it was cozy and warm. His apartment was much better than the little dorm you shared with Joy.

You tiptoed around his place in the oversized gray t-shirt he left out for you to wear, just searching for something to do. Peaks of sunshine snuck in through the cracks in his curtains as you walked from ‌room to room.

Seeing that there's nothing much to do. You heat up the food he left on the stove for you and sit on his sofa to watch television. Flicking through the channels for a good 20 minutes before you hear the door knob rattle.

"You're still here?" Doyoung speaks first, seeing you get up off the couch to greet him.

"Yeah, I just didn't wanna leave your apartment unlocked." You hesitate.

"I'm glad you're here." Doyoung's eyes trail over your figure. Specifically, the skin of your bare legs. He tried not to be too noticeable, but you caught it. "I brought dinner." He holds the bag up.

An hour passes, and you're still on his living room floor in front of him, talking about anything and everything. One minute, you're laughing about your childhood. The next minute, you're talking about your dream superpowers.

"So what's Connecticut like?" Doyoung asks.

"Umm." You go to push your hair out of your face, but Doyoung reaches to do it before you can. "It's boring. Well, to me, at least." You explain. "It doesn't have palm trees. There are beaches, but they aren't as pretty as the ones here." You conclude with, "I don't know everything is… just different."

"There wasn't anything you liked about it?"

"The food was good, I guess." You tilt your head back and forth. "I spent so much time thinking about getting away that I never really took the time to get to know and love it."

"Maybe we should visit sometime." Doyoung offers. He takes his eyes off of you for just a second, but in that small second, you feel cold and a little pathetic because of how sad you got just because you didn't have all of his attention on you.

You shouldn't feel this way about someone you consider a friend. You shouldn't be looking at him, hoping that he'd kiss you or just touch you or something. Anything other than just looking at you.

You utter, "Yeah, I'll probably like it more if I got to experience it with you." The words escape your lips in a soft murmur, barely audible. You quickly look down. Your eyes dart around, searching for anything to distract you from the moment's awkwardness. You notice a loose thread on your shirt and begin to fiddle with it, trying to calm your nerves. As you stand there in silence, you can't help but wonder if he heard what you said or, worse, if he knows what you're thinking. The tension between you two is palpable, and you feel a knot forming in your stomach.

"Are you okay?" Doyoung asks, dipping his head down to see your face.

You nod, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little hot."

"Why didn't you say so I can turn the air on." He wastes no time getting up and treading to the thermostat. You just sit there, watching the distance between you grow. You roll your eyes and let out a deep sigh.

"I turned it on, but it's going to take a while to kick in," your friend informs you as he claims the spot in front of you. You're still avoiding eye contact, and he notices it almost immediately. "If it's too hot, I can get you some water."

"Doie?" You mutter instead of responding to his previous statement.

He responds, "Yes?" growing concerned at your sudden change of tone.

"Can you kiss me?" The way he looks at you makes your face feel warm; you're nervous, but you can't look away from him.

"Are you sure? I don't wa—" You kiss him before he can finish his sentence. Your lips are on his when you scoot the rest of your body closer to him—close enough to claim your spot on his lap. His hands immediately crawl under your shirt to wrap protectively around your waist, ensuring that you can't go anywhere.

Breathless, you roll over to lay your head on Doyoungs chest. That's when he wraps his arms around you and lets out a slow, exhausted laugh.

"What?" You smile, looking up at him.

"We did this all out of order." You wait for him to continue, "I like you, Y/n, and I want to be your boyfriend more than anything else."

You try to sneak into your dorm early the following day, assuming that Joy would've been in one of her classes or maybe out at her boyfriend's. But she's up, sitting on the edge of her bed with her laptop propped up on her lap.

"Oh… you're still here." You laugh to divert the attention away from you.

"Welcome back." Your best friend says. She doesn't spare you a look until you plop down on your bed. "Why are you so happy?"

"I'm not." You press your lips into a line, trying your best not to smile. Joy stands up and hovers over you to examine you. The first thing she notices is that you're wearing Doyoung's sweatshirt and a pair of his sweatpants, which means that you left your clothes at his place. She then grabs your face and turns your head from side to side.

"You're glowing." She says, almost like a question.

"I used some of Doyoungs skin care."

"Oh please, not even he glows like this." Joy debates, standing up straight to put her hands on her hip."You had sex, didn't you."

"No, of course not. We just sat around. We watched TV and stuff, you know, normal things." You look anywhere but at her as she squints her eyes to you. "We had sex." You murmur sheepishly.

"How was it?" She rushes to sit next to you.

Joy would always say that you and Doyoung were a very cheesy couple. "You guys are worse than me and my boyfriend." She'd say.

Whenever you were around him, you had to touch him. You couldn't help it, and he didn't make it any better. Doyoung had the habit of pulling you into his lap and leaving a trail of kisses on your shoulder, even in public.

If you weren't sitting on his lap, you were wrapped in each other's arms. Holding hands was too casual; you wanted to encase yourself in his skin.

It was another "party" at Kun's. You were seated in Doyoung's lap, and the rest of your friends were sitting in a circle around both of you.

"Okay, your turn." Taeyong turns to Doyoung.

"Y/n?" Doyoung calls, looking down at you. The entire circle lets out a collective groan of annoyance, but he still continues, "Truth or dare?"

You answer, "Dare."

"Just kiss and get it over with." Taeyong grunts, and you obey.

"I think we can skip her turn. She seems occupied." Kun comments. You don't agree or disagree with your lips getting tangled with your boyfriends.

"Alright, that's enough." Joy slaps the side of Doyoungs arm, but it takes for you to pull away for him to stop kissing you.

"Y/n, truth or dare," Yuta speaks up from beside you.

You answer "truth," and he asks, "What do You have Doyoung saved as in your phone."

You hesitated to answer the question, not because you were ashamed but because you were confused. "I have him saved as Kim Doyoung." You say it almost like a question.

"Really?" Doyoung darts down at you.

"Yeah, that's your name, isn't it?" You ask, "What do you have me saved as?"

Doyoung doesn't answer verbally; he only pulls out his phone and opens your contact information so you can see it for yourself. A small awkward smile grows on your face when you read "My Angel," with a picture of you on top and your number below it.

"When did you do that?" is all you can ask. Your friends continue playing the game around you, not caring about the world you and your boyfriend are in.

"As soon as we started dating." He answers, closing his phone and laying it down on the ground next to you.

Following his actions, you pull your phone out and begin typing something. Doyoung is curious to see what you're doing, but he patiently waits for you to reveal it to him on your own.

Soon, you're holding your phone right in front of him. For him to see his own contact pulled up on your screen. His name on top, his number below it, and "My love ❤️." Written right in between it.

"Is that better?" You ask

"Much better." He leans in to kiss you, pulling you closer to him than you already are.

"They're doing it again." Kun mumbles.

"Could you two please get a room?" Taeyong calls out after.

Even though Doyoung made life easier for you, things still got hard. Unfortunately, he couldn't stop the troubles of everyday life.

You had graduated, thankfully. But now you were struggling to find a job. You spent too many days on Joy's couch with your eyes glued to a computer screen, sending emails to various corporations, all of which seemed like they just didn't want to hire you.

With each passing day, you felt yourself getting more and more discouraged. You hadn't even noticed that you were unintentionally blowing your boyfriend off until he brought it to your attention.

The beach was the one place you could go to forget everything. Your mind is completely blank when you sit next to Doyoung in the sand, your head propped up on his arm as you listen to the waves crashing in.

The fact that it was pitch dark just made everything so much better. You wished you could give up everything and just make this your life.

"How have you been?" Doyoung asks randomly. Your heavy eyes force themselves open as you pull yourself off your boyfriend's arm.

A tired, breathless laugh leaves you when you say. "What do you mean?"

"I haven't been able to speak to you in almost a week." He answers, "I just wanna know how you've been."

"It hasn't been a week."

"It's been 9 days," Doyoung responds rather harshly, but you don't pick up on it at first.

"Well, you know I've been busy." You say in defense.

"I don't know that." He says, "You don't tell me anything. You just call me when you wanna hang out or have sex, then you leave me to worry about you for a few days."

"I didn't realize I was doing that, Doyoung. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, angel. Just at least update me sometimes. I still like talking to my girlfriend." Doyoung coos, leaning in to kiss your cheek.

You agree, but it happens again. You go without talking to him for nearly two weeks, only to call one day in the middle of the night.

"Hello?" Doyoung shuffles in his bed to answer your call. You can hear in his voice that he's been sleeping.

"Doyoung…" You whine, "I need you."

"No." He states sternly.

your eyebrows furrow unknowingly when you mumble, "What?" You ask, taken back by his sudden sternness.

"You haven't spoken to me in two weeks. You don't call, text, or tell me anything, Y/n. I'm starting to feel more like a hookup than your boyfriend." He almost yells.

"I told you I was sorry." You reply.

He sighs. "You also told me you wouldn't do it again, but you did. I love you, angel. I love you a lot, but I'm not gonna run back to you whenever you finally decide to call me." He finished.

"I've been busy. What do you want me to do?" You plead

"I'd like for you to text me every once in a while. It's nice to know that you're still thinking about me even when we're not together. Or that you're still thinking about me during the day and not just in the middle of the night when you're needy."

"I don't wanna argue with you." You say after a long period of silence.

"Neither do I." He breaths. The next thing you hear are three beeps telling you that the call has been dropped.

In disbelief, you look at the phone and throw it on the opposite side of the bed. You roll over and try your best to sleep. But that doesn't come as easy tonight, no matter how many times you toss and turn.

Eventually, you reach for your cell to call your boyfriend again, but each time, you get, "You've reached my voicemail. I'm probably busy right now, but I'll call you back when I get the chance."

The following morning, you find yourself back on your best friend's couch, feeling restless and anxious. You try to distract yourself by scrolling through your emails and filling out job applications, but your mind keeps drifting off to Doyoung. You can't help but wonder if he's thinking about you too. You check your phone repeatedly, hoping to see a missed message from him, but every time you look, it's the same - nothing. The silence is deafening, and you can't shake off the feeling of unease that's been gnawing at you since the last time you spoke to him.

You weren't used to this from him. It was very rare for you to open your phone and see that he hadn't tried to call or text you. This only meant that he was really mad, and that made you feel uneasy.

Mindlessly, your thumbs hover over his contact, and you begin to call him.

The phone doesn't even ring once before Doyoung picks it up. "What do you want?" He spits.

You're more excited about the fact that he picked up to even care about the tone of his voice. "I missed you. and I just wanted to talk to you."

"So now you wanna talk?"

"What is your problem?" You mumble.

"I told you what my problem is. I don't like feeling neglected," he answers.

"I'm sorry, okay, I really am. I don't know what more you want from me?"

As you listen intently through the speaker of your phone, you can sense his reluctance. You can almost feel him holding back his true emotions as he takes a deep breath and responds, "There's nothing I want from you, Y/n."

"Then why are you acting like this? I just wanted to talk," you yell, despite his calm demeanor.

"I guess you're just too selfish and self-centered to understand," he insults. There's no point in me even wasting my breath," he says last before you hear that beeping again.

You don't know what irritates you more: the fact that he keeps hanging up before you can get your point across or the annoying beeping sound that comes right after. As if, to rub in the fact that your boyfriend is mad at you and you aren't making anything any better.

Neither.

It's the fact that he called you selfish and self-centered, as well as indirectly telling you that you lacked the brain capacity to even understand why he was mad in the first place.

Angrily, you click on his contact, but once again, you're met with "You've reached my voicemail. I'm probably busy right now, but I'll call you back when I get the chance."

You patiently wait for the beep to come in for your thoughts and insults to spew. Most of it you don't mean. You want to hurt his feelings like he hurt yours.

"You know you aren't such a saint yourself?"

"Selfish and self-centered, Really? Nice way to talk to your girlfriend."

" Fuck you, Doyoung. Fuck you."

"You don't have to talk to me, I know Yuta will."

"Doyoung, please, I'm sorry. I don't mean any of that. I just want you to talk to me."

"Whatever, I didn't really like you like that anyway. I was just bored."

"I've been cheating on you this entire time. I've been cheating on you, and that's why I haven't been texting you. Because I've been too busy having sex with other men."

"There aren't any other men, Doyoung. It's just you. I love you. Please call me."

By the end of the day, you had filled your boyfriend's voicemail until you couldn't send anything else. You went to sleep that night, thinking that he'd be over it by the morning, but the next morning rolled around, and he still wasn't talking to you.

Soon, a week had passed, and still, the same thing.

Things weren't working with Doyoung; your job search was getting nowhere, and you were losing weight from the amount of meals you skipped. Nothing seemed to be on your side.

"I think I'm going to have to stay in Connecticut for a little while." You cry into Joy's lap as she tries to comfort you.

"You know you don't have to do that." Joy stops you.

"I'm trying, but I really can't find a job, and I don't want to stay here and mooch off of you. Plus, I know you want to spend time with your boyfriend. I just don't want to get in your way," you explain.

"Please, y/n, you're not getting in my way, and my boyfriend doesn't mind having you around. If you feel like it's best for you to stay in Connecticut to get back on your feet, I understand that. But you're always, I mean always, welcome here." She smiles, smoothing the hair on your head. "But if you go, you need to fix things with Doyoung. He'd be heartbroken if you just up and left while you two were going through a rough patch."

She was right. She was always right. So that night, you ended up right in front of his apartment door. You didn't bother trying to call. You knew he wouldn't answer. The best approach was to face him in person, and that you did.

You knocked one, two, three times and waited patiently for him to answer, which he did in less than fifteen seconds. Your heart nearly jumps when you see his face, and you can tell that he was just as shocked to see you, too.

Neither of you says anything for a good long while. You're searching for the right words to say, and Doyoung's trying to stop himself from embracing you into a long-awaited kiss.

"Doyoung i-" He fails as soon as he hears your voice. Within seconds pulling you closer to him just to lay his lips on yours. Not caring what it is you have to say.

You end up in the shower together, and he's gazing at you lovingly. You're still just trying to figure out what to say to him.

"Do you really think I'm selfish and self-centered?" you mutter first, warm water spilling over your head when you look up at him.

"Of course not, Angel. I was just mad." He brings his hand up to caress your cheek and the outline of your lips. "I love you. Nothing could ever change that."

"I love you too, Doyoung." You murmur. "I don't like fighting."

"'Me neither." He says, more sincere this time.

"I don't like when you're mad at me." You continue.

"I don't like it either, angel." He whispers, closing in the space between with your hand still wrapped around your cheek. "and really don't like denying you." He says against your lips.

You can only close your eyes and whine, "Doyoung." Before he shushes you, connecting lips and tugging on your hips.

You can tell he loves you by the way he kisses you, the way he touches you, and the way he talks to you. You wish it weren't so evident. You wish he made it a little less obvious. Because then maybe you wouldn't have fallen for him as hard.

The thought of leaving him here in California pains you. Even if it's just for a few months. You don't know if you could bear long distance again, or if you could even look him in the eye when you tell him that you were breaking up with him.

You dry your tears before you leave a faint kiss on his lips. It takes a lot of strength for you to pull away from his sleeping body. You want nothing more than just to lay next to him, to stay there forever and for eternity after. But all good things must come to an end, and your flight was leaving in two hours.

You left with nothing but a note with tear stains that read,

I'm going back to Connecticut. I came over to tell you that, but I couldn't get it out. I hope that you can forgive me for leaving so suddenly, but I'll be back, I promise. For now, I think we should break up. I don't wanna hold you back, and I don't want you sitting around waiting for me. I want you to be happy. Even if it isn't with me.

If in the future we meet again, I hope we can work things out.

I love you, Doyoung. I'll love you forever.

-Y/n

and with that, you were gone.

Now, as you stand in your old room, the brown paper box at your feet, you can't help but feel a strong sense of nostalgia wash over you. You take in every detail: the way the sunlight filters through the window, casting a warm glow on everything in the room; the creaking sound of the wooden floorboards under your feet, each one carrying a memory of its own; and the scent of your old perfume that still lingers in the air, like a faint echo of a bygone era.

This time, as you prepare to leave, it feels different. It feels like you're saying goodbye for good, and the thought of leaving this place forever fills you with a deep sense of loss. When you first arrived in Connecticut, you couldn't wait to leave, but now you find yourself wishing you could stay just a little bit longer so you could relive the memories of your past, which you hold so dear.

However, you know that the real reason you're dreading going back is that you don't want to face your Doyoung. The thought of telling him that you're now in a relationship with the man you used to cry to him about fills you with anxiety. You're unsure of how he'll react, and the mere prospect of facing him makes your heart race with fear.

The more you think about it, the more you realize that things are not looking good for you. You're caught between your love for your new partner and your fear of the unknown.

Suddenly, your mom yells from downstairs, "Y/n, someone is here for you." You don't pay much attention to the hesitation in her voice, too lost in thought. You wish you had because when you reach the bottom of the stairs and look up, Doyoung is standing right across from you with a saddened smile and a black duffle bag. Your heart skips a beat as you see him. You hadn't expected him to be here, but now that he is, you don't know how to react. You mutter, "What are you doing here?" As you wrap your arms around yourself.

He doesn't give you a verbal answer; one second you hear the heaviness of his black bag when he drops it and the next he pulling you into a tight hug.

You immediately melt in his arms. There was no point in trying to build walls around Doyoung. He could always break them down with little to no effort.

"I missed you, Angel." He breathes, separating just enough for him to wrap his hands around each side of your face and bring you into a deep kiss. You kiss him back without much thinking; your body knows who Doyoung is. You can't deny him.

"Joy sent me." He finally answers when he breaks the kiss, but it doesn't take long for him to rush back to your lips.

"Are you still unpacking?" Doyoung asks when you show him your room. He eyes the brown boxes sprawled out around the floor.

"I'm packing up." You answer, "Joy found me a job, so I'm going back to L.A."

You don't have to face him to see him smile. The way his hand tightens around yours tells you all that you need to know. Soon, his other arm snakes around your waist to pull you back towards him. "We talked about visiting Connecticut together," he says next to your ear.

"We didn't know it would be under these circumstances though." You respond. Turning around in his arms.

"We're still here." He smiles. "What do you suggest we do first?"

"I don't know. I guess we can probably find a restaurant. But the food is way better in L.A."

It feels weird seeing Doyoung in your childhood room. It was like seeing two worlds collide, but it was nothing like seeing both of your exes in the same room.

"Baby! dinners ready." You didn't even hear when Jaehyun showed up, and nothing could've prepared you for this moment.

Doyoungs eyes divert from you to the man standing at your doorway, and Jaehyun eyes him back. Neither of them says anything, and thankfully so.

"Umm… Jaehyun, this is Doyoung, and Doyoung, this is Jaehyun." You gesture your arms to introduce them.

"Her ex," they both say at the same time. You glance between them, trying to figure out how to get yourself out of this situation.

"I-" "We're working things out." They interrupt you in sync.

"Huh?" You call out, walking past them. "Yeah, we're coming down now." You respond to nobody. Anything to get out of that stuffy room.

You take a seat at the end of the table, and your mom sits directly across from you while Doyoung and Jaehyun sit across from each other at opposite ends of the table.

They're both eyeing each other but as long as they're not bickering you do nothing to stop it. Although the air is quite thick, and you want nothing more than to just vanish into thin air.

"So, Doyoung, how was your flight?" Your mom asks to break the tension.

Your ex pulls his attention away from the man across from him to say, "It was long."

"Oh you must be so tired." You coo, reaching out to caress his cheek and the skin of small eye bags.

"I'm fine now that I got to see you." He wraps his larger hand over yours.

"I guess we should prepare for our flight," Jaehyun speaks up. He's talking to you, but his eyes are trained to Doyoung.

"You're coming to L.A.?" Doyoung asks, digging his spoon through the food.

"Yeah, I'm moving down there for Y/n," Jaehyun states.

"It's about time." Doyoung laughs mostly to himself.

"What was that?"

"It's about time," Doyoung repeats sternly.

"what's that supposed to mean?" Jaehyun furrows his eyebrows and throws his spoon.

"Nothing, he doesn't mean anything by it. Can we please just sit here and enjoy dinner without the two of you going at each other's necks?" That's all it takes to shut them up. "Thank you." You mutter as you breathe and go back to eating the food your mom worked so hard to cook.

"Drive safe." You stop at the door, and Jaehyun stops shortly after you do.

He turns around to ask, "You're not coming?"

You shake your head, "I don't wanna leave him alone."

Jaehyun purses his lips together, he couldn't lie, your answer disappointed him. But he didn't press, "Okay, I'll call you." He pressed a kiss to your cheek. "Goodnight, baby."

"Goodnight, Jaehyun," you murmur faintly. Watching as he turns to walk to his car. When he pulls off the driveway, you head into the house. Closing and locking the door before you trail upstairs to your bedroom.

You take a deep breath and push your hair back, thinking about how long and eventful your day has been.

Doyoung's seated on the edge of your bed, patiently waiting for you to get back when you walk into your room. Giving him a half smile as you make your way to your bed to sit next to him.

Although Doyoung just tugs on your wrist to pull you right into his lap. You don't fight it, his lap was warm and familiar. The perfect way to end your stressful day.

"How do you feel, Angel?" He asks above your head, his arms wrapped tightly around you.

"Tired." You answer, breathing in the scent of him. The scent of home. You were crazy to ever think that you could live without him. Without this.

"I love you," Doyoung says in the crook of your neck. He starts to leave a trail of kisses from your neck and across your shoulder. His arms are still wrapped right around you. You couldn't leave even if you wanted to.

But both of you know that's not what you want.

"I love you." He shifts to your other shoulder, "So much." You can only moan his name. His touch leaves you speechless as he reaches to pull your shirt over your head.

"You're mine, right?" He whispers against the shell of your ear.

"All yours, Doie." You spur when his hands tread into your underwear.

"I know Angel." His open-mouth kisses subtly turn into soft bites that have you squirming against him. "I'm gonna make sure he knows that. Okay?"

"Yes, Doyoung." you cry.

"You gotta keep it down." He coos. "Can you do that for me, Angel?"

You simply nod and that brings a smile to your ex's face. Warranting him to lay a kiss on the back of your neck while his fingers continue working.

Jaehyun's name is flashing across your screen, but you're too busy to notice anyone calling.

"Goodmorning!" Your best friend chirps the second you answer your phone. "Oh- someone had a wild night." She giggles, referring to the love bruises you have planted on your neck.

"You just wait till I get back." You hiss into the speaker of your phone. Be careful not to wake your boyfriend up.

"You're gonna thank me? Kiss me and hold me and tell me I'm the bestest best friend in the whole wide world?" Joy smiles fondly into the camera.

"You have no idea." You poke your tongue through your cheek. Although you weren't mad at her, you couldn't be even if you wanted to. And you really wanted to.

"Oh please, girl. I saved you, and you know it." She smirks knowingly.

"You might have, but I'm still mad at you." You glare into the camera.

"And you're still really bad at lying. I'll see you when you get here." She grins, ending the call with "I love you. I knew you'd do the right thing."

Just as soon as she hangs up you're getting a text message from Jaehyun.

Jaehyun: I'm outside.

You rush to your window to see that, sure enough, he's standing right next to his parked car. You glance one more time at the man in your bed and remember the marks you have as evidence of last night's events.

"You're early." You say, when you open the door. One hand hanging from the back of your neck.

"You didn't answer my call last night, I couldn't sleep," Jaehyun explains, looking down at you.

"I was so tired, I just fell asleep. I'm sorry." You gulp, knowing that he could see right through you. You tried your best to keep a straight face, but that was the problem. Jaehyun could tell you were hiding something by how still you were.

You don't blink, breathe, or say anything until Jaehyun mutters, "It's okay. Baby. I know how tired you can get."

The nickname causes you to grimace, and he quickly notices it. He noticed everything, the way you avoided eye contact, the way you held your hand over your neck. How clingy you were with him just a few days ago, but distant with him now.

He's lost you, and he knows it. He's just not ready to accept it yet.

"Do you maybe wanna go out and get a bite to eat?" He asks.

"Jaehyun," You trail off, "I'm going back to L.A."

"I know, I've got everything packed. We-" "I'm going back with Doyoung." You blurt out nervously.

Jaehyun doesn't say anything, so you continue. "You knew this only temporary. I mean, you hate the city; this is your home, and I can't take you away from that." You continue rambling

"But I love you y/n, and I'm willing to make it work to be with you. I really, really don't wanna lose you. Again." He pleads, reaching for your hand.

"You'll find someone else. You'll find someone who loves you and makes you happy. Someone that won't ask you to leave everything behind." You subtly pull your hand away from him.

"What aren't you understanding? I don't want someone else. I was here first, and I think that should count for something." This time, when you don't say anything, he continues, "I thought you said you missed me? Just a few days ago, you asked me to come with you."

"That was a mistake." You finally look at him. "I was sad, and lonely and you were here. I was confused, and I wasn't thinking straight. I said a lot of things I didn't mean."

Each word that left your lips was a blow to his heart; all he could think was, "Mistake?"

"We both know it, Jaehyun. I loved you once, years ago. I don't feel the same way anymore."

He remains silent as he gets closer to you. Your breath gets stifled with each step he takes towards you. Without a word, he pulls your hand from your neck, revealing the bruises lined up along your skin. His stomach churns, seeing marks on you that aren't from him. His heart aches knowing that the person who left those marks is the person you're probably gonna end up with for the rest of your life.

"So you really do love him," Jaehyun utters.

"I do." You're certain this time. "I love him a lot."

"I guess that's all that matters then." Jaehyun's eyes dart from your neck up to your eyes. "I wish you the best of luck."

And with that you never saw him again. You never heard from him or about him. He just disappeared from your life, almost like he's never been there at all.

8 months later.

You prop your chin up on your palm as you review your emails. It's 3:45 a.m.; you should be sleeping. But sleep didn't come easy, and you always found that you were way more productive at night anyway.

You keep your eyes on the screen of your desktop when you hear Doyoung shuffle into the office. You can't see him, but you hear him pull a chair up beside you, and you can feel his gaze on you. After a few seconds, you go to remove the hair from your face, but Doyoung is faster as he pulls the strands behind your ear. Then, without a word, he goes back to watching you work.

"I can't focus if you're watching me," you say, finally, but your attention remains on the computer in front of you.

"I can't sleep if you're not next to me." He softly responds.

Finally, you divert your attention from the desktop to look at your boyfriend. "I'm sorry, it's just hard for me to sleep." you pout.

"It's okay, angel. Just keep working." He rubbed circles into your back while you continued answering the emails you couldn't finish the day before.

Not even five minutes pass, and you feel your eyelids grow heavy. "Fine, you win." You whine just loud enough for him to hear. "I'll come to bed."

You roll the chair around so your whole body is facing him. As soon as the words meet his ears, Doyoung grips the back of your thighs to carry you back to your shared bedroom. You wrap your thighs around his waist, with your arms around his neck.

"Would you like some tea, Angel?" he asks, and you can feel the vibrations through his chest when he does.

"no, thank you."

Doyoung smiles at your use of manners and carefully lays you down on the bed. Laying a kiss or two on your lips when you refuse to unwrap yourself from around him.

Taglist- @bluebeard67 @sofix-hc7 @jenmongiii

[janicho88]

I Got You- Chapter 1

Pairing- Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Female!Reader

Word count- 963

Warnings- Some language, mentions of domestic violence, and abuse, abusive boyfriend, hurt reader. If I missed something please let me know.

A/N- Birthday post 2. This one has been sitting in my WIP since last fall. First Jake story, I hope I can do him justice. The first few chapters will be a little heavy, but we will move past that.

Summary- When you have finally reached a breaking point, you call the one person you trust for help. He’s never seen you as more than a friend, but he is the person you know you’re safest with.  It’s been months since he has had so much as a text from you, but Jake Seresin would do anything for the Navy princess he met years ago.  The pilot knows she means more to him than he ever will to her, but he will do anything for her

Series Masterlist

After a long first day of being back at Top Gun, Jake is sitting at the bar of the Hard Deck nursing his first beer of the night.  Some of the other aviators from this detachment are by the pool table, after spending the day around them, he isn’t inclined to head over right now.  The bar itself isn’t crowded yet, the night’s still early. 

“I don’t usually see you sitting at my bar by yourself, you alright?”  Penny questions as she wipes down the empty bar around him.

“Yeah, just been a long day Penny.” he returns with a slight smirk.

“Are you sure that’s all?”  The bartender remembers Jake from his first go around at Top Gun.  Maverick’s Goddaughter brought him in on his first night in town, and introduced Jake to Penny.”

“Yes, ma’am.”  The pilot is staring at his beer before he speaks again.  “Did you know the man we threw out last night was a Captain, and an instructor at Top Gun?”

“Oh God, Pete’s your instructor?”  Much to Jake's frustration she laughs.

“Sure is, not really the best first impression one wants to make.”

“Don’t worry, that man has made much worse first impressions.” 

“Doesn’t really help me now, Penny,” Jake responds with a shake of his head, and takes a drink of his beer.  He has every intention of leading this mission, and last night’s little incident isn’t the best way to make that happen. 

“There’s a blonde over by the wall who's been staring at you for a good ten minutes if you’re looking for company to take your mind off Mave,” she teases as she moves to help another patron. 

Shaking his head once more, Jake’s attention goes back to the beer in front of him. It isn't long before his phone rings and he pulls it out of his pocket, not bothering to look at the caller ID before answering.

“Hello.”

No one responds, but he can faintly hear breathing on the other end.

“Hello,” he tries again with a little impatience in his tone. 

“J..Jake?  Where are you?”

He pulls the phone away from his ear and looks at the caller ID.  Seeing the number he assumes his eyes are playing tricks on him.  He hasn’t heard from you in a few months. 

“Are you there?  Please…I..”

He can hear the desperation in your voice now.

“I’m still here princess, little surprised to be hearing from you though.  What’s going on?”

“Are you in Lemoore?”

“No, I’m actually…” he’s cut off by your sob.

“What’s wrong?  Talk to me Y/N,” he pleads, turning away from the bar.

“I… I… need help,” you finally whisper.

“Where are you?”  Jake stands and throws some money down to cover his drink and tip Penny before hurrying out of the bar.

“I’m in L.A., but if you’re not in Lemoore…”

“I’m at Top Gun, I’m on my way.  What’s your address?”

He puts it in his GPS as he speeds out of the parking lot and toward the highway determined to get to you as quickly as he can.  He keeps you on the phone the entire drive, but here isn’t much said between the two of you.  Jake does his best to console you over the phone as he listens to your tears.  When he asks if your boyfriend is around, you just start crying harder.  The urge to punch someone or something growing inside of him.  Pushing the speed limit the aviator gets to your apartment in just under 2 hours, you buzz him in and he’s running up the stairs to your apartment.

Still on the phone with you, Jake lets you know he’s outside your door.  The man is slightly confused when the door opens and he doesn’t see you.  Carefully walking inside he looks around the room and quickly turns when the door shuts behind him. His longtime friend is standing behind the door with her head down and hair covering her face, he slowly reaches out to lift her chin and push the hair back. Jake can’t help the gasp that escapes as he takes in the sight in front of him, as she recoils from his touch.

“Y/N, princess, what happened?  Who did this?”   

Unable to answer Jake’s question, you return to staring at the floor.  Maybe you shouldn’t have bothered your friend, but you didn’t know what else to do.  You knew if Jake was still at Lemoore he would help you.  Tonight was the worst it’s been and you were terrified of what the next time would bring. 

“Sweets, did Josh do this to you?”  Jake is seeing red, trying to rein his temper in for your sake.  He never cared for your boyfriend, and if he finds out this is that man’s doing, Jake won’t be holding himself back next time he sees him.  There are bruises forming on your left cheek and chin, and dried blood near your nose. Your left arm has some cuts he can see from the ripped sleeve of your shirt. 

The only answer he receives is a slight nod of the head.

“Where is he?”  When you don’t respond he tries again.  “He isn’t here right?”

You shake your head no, before finding your voice.  “Probably at the bar getting drunk and finding a better girl to go home with,” you mumble.

Jake can’t keep himself away any longer he comes and slowly wraps you up in a hug holding you close to him.  You are tense when he first touches you, but slowly melt into his hold. This spurs on another round of tears, you can’t believe you still have any left.

“Okay, we need to get you out of here before he comes back.”

Thank you for reading!

Chapter 2

Tagged-

[maester-of-spreadsheets]

Aka; an Armand playlist that only has songs from Shah Rukh Khan movies

Season 1 Episode 1: Aaya Tere Dar Par // Veer-Zaara I have broken all bonds with the world For you have come, leaving the world behind On your doorstep, your lover has come He has come, your lover has come

[Sorry for qawwali rocking. It will happen again.]

Season 1 Episode 2: Aa Tayar Hoja // Asoka Once on board the evening ship, get yourself settled in Come on, let's go! The evening shall be ecstasy The lips shall be mine but the thoughts shall be yours

[Needed at least one item number because Rashid!Armand basically served the same function as "I'm not sure what's happening here but I think I like it!"]

Season 1 Episode 3: Jaadu Teri Nazar // Darr Whether you say yes or no Whether you say yes or no Kiran, you're mine Kiran, you're mine

[Might as well throw this banger at the episode where Armand doesn't do anything but get accused of lingering.]

Season 1 Episode 4: Chaiyya Chaiyya // Dil Se Those who’ve been blessed with The shadow of love over their head, Will have heaven under their feet one day

[This claim is a little less impressive when you can float and you're immune to mediocre stars.]

Season 1 Episode 5: Chalak Chalak // Devdas This wine, this wine, yes, this wine, this wine This wine brings with itself The rain of memories It splashes and overflows This wine all around the heart

[Just here because of how often wine and blood are used as metaphors for one another and this episode has really comedically sezualized blood drinking DON'T THINK TOO HARD ABOUT HOW THE END OF THE SONG SIGNALS DOOM...]

Season 1 Episode 6: Baazigar O Baazigar // Baazigar My heart was alone You played such a game I stay up all night in your memories

[And that's a threat by the way.]

Season 1 Episode 7: Aaj Ki Raat // Don

The crazy ones are still unaware of What's going to happen tonight, What will be gained, what will be lost

[Not only is it difficult to know what Armand is doing, it's-]

Season 2 Episode 1: Tumse Milke Dil Ka // Main Hoon Na Check that! Wiiiiicked

[Or, if you prefer: "You don't know what is inside of my heart/You will remember my story."]

Season 2 Episode 2: Where's the Party Tonight // Kabhi Alvida Naa Kehna The pleasant songs are playing All lovers are misled So dance all night Where's the party tonight?

[Somewhere down the road!!!... at the combination mansion and vampire all you can eat place.]

Season 2 Episode 3: Phir Milenge Chalte Chalte // Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi I wish someone would love me, even if it’s a lie Even if it’s a lie, yes even if it’s a lie In every lifetime, the colors will change We blossom behind the curtains of dreamland We are travelers on the path of love, We’ll meet again as time goes by

[There are so many bollywood songs that make me feel like I've lived through several lifetimes, especially this one.]

Season 2 Episode 4: Ishq Kameena // Shakti Love is rotten, it has broken every heart Every lover has lost out to love, love has struck me down I find no peace, love is horrible, it makes life miserable

[Good song for an episode with everyone trying and failing to be romantic.]

Season 2 Episode 5: Dard-E-Disco // Om Shanti Om Then the fountain of grief started flowing As the balloon of my dreams burst That's why I now wander London, Paris, New York, L.A. or San Fransisco In my heart is the pain of disco

[... /Mic drop]

Season 2 Episode 6: Marjaani // Billu In the presence of God, I've also made promises I've acted according to the customs of the world Still if the world doesn't understand, then punish it If it agrees with you, then reward it If this crazy world doesn't agree to it then Let the world go to hell and die

[When you are about to be unable to prevent it :(]

Season 2 Episode 7: Dastaan-E-Om Shanti Om // Om Shanti The story goes that the one who recognizes the murderer, That lad has come back. It’s life’s way of telling the murderer That the shadow of death has surrounded him

[Just play this one in reverse because instead of using the trappings of theater to reveal the truth about an ingenue who was burned to death, we are using theater to conceal the truth about an ingenue who was burned to death.]

Season 2 Episode 8: Let's Break Up // Dear Zindagi Let’s break up, oh my love Agree to this We’ll never be able to make it work so let it go Let's break up!

[Yes, let's.]

[ncisfranchise-source]

NCIS’ predecessor will at last be available to stream in its entirety.

Prime Video will host all 10 seasons of JAG beginning Monday, July 1. Whereas current rights holder Paramount+ only has select episodes, a source tells TVLine that Amazon has licensed the rights to every episode of the Navy drama — so, barring any operational delays, all 227 installments will be available to binge ahead of Independence Day.

One-and-done for NBC, the military procedural first launched in 1995 and found a new home on CBS the following year, where it would run for nine more seasons and spawn NCIS, which itself has generated five spinoffs (including NCIS: New Orleans, NCIS: Los Angeles, NCIS: Hawai’i, NCIS: Sydney and the upcoming NCIS: Origins).

For the uninitiated: JAG followed judge advocates (aka uniformed lawyers) employed by the Department of the Navy’s Office of the Judge Advocate General. David James Elliot starred as Navy Captain Harmon Rabb Jr., while Catherine Bell, who joined the military procedural in Season 2, played Lieutenant Colonel Sarah “Mac” MacKenzie.

Fourteen years after JAG’s 2005 finale, Elliot and Bell reprised their roles as Harm and Mac for a three-episode arc on NCIS: L.A.

[pierppasolini]

L.A. Plays Itself (1972) // dir. Fred Halsted

[aheathen-conceivably]

🎶 ‘Cause you know I loved you much better than anybody would 🎶

No matter how late she stayed up, Jo always loved mornings. While other people were beleaguered with hangovers or a sense of ennui, she was filled with an immediate energy that was nearly insuppressable.

Of course, mornings had only gotten better since Giorgio had moved into her apartment. When she was working, his incessant love and affection bothered her; but there in the morning glow, there were no cares just yet, and she could just be with him until she came back down to reality and had to face the harsh truths of the day.

“Jo, my love, come back in bed. Mi raccomando! You always leave before breakfast and come home even later than me!”

As she applied her lipstick, Jo looked back at him through the mirrored glass, not even trying to hide the annoyance in her voice, “And what, sweet Gio, will your uncle do if you’re late again? Huh? Fire you from the family grocery?”

More than familiar with her tone Giorgio sat up and groaned, trying to stop her as she slipped on her dress and walked toward the door, “I told you, Jo! I’m only there until an opportunity presents itself, alright? I’m not some lousy fruit peddler. Jo! Josephine!”

Jo slipped slipped on her shoes and walked out of the apartment. She didn’t have time for Giorgio and his grandiose dreams today.

Every day she had to make more phone calls, smile wider, and work harder. Her mother had always told her to follow the money, to find where the wealth and power was and seamlessly infiltrate those circles. Well that’s what she had done, that’s what she had modeled her whole business around.

For over two years she had made a name for herself in New Orleans’ wealthiest circles as the girl who knew the talent, the girl who could book the hottest band for your party before they were even known by your peers. It had made her immensely popular amongst the uptown sort and musicians alike, because no one else could book them such high paying gigs.

Only now, as she approached her office, it was as though a tidal wave was crashing on her from both directions. She had lost over a dozen musicians to lucrative record deals in Chicago and L.A.; but that wasn’t the worst of it, this city was full of talent, even if it was slowly being lured away.

No, it was the uptown sort. “Jo,” they all explained in a variety of patronizing tones, “You’ve got to understand there’s white boys playing this music from the north now. Do tell me why would I go with some ragtag local band who might make my guests uncomfortable when I can book a couple professionals from New York, huh?”

Bastards. She should have known. You said to follow the money, mother. Like these white men had done you any better.

Well she’d go from club to club, the ones that were still open, or to the wealthy Creoles who hadn’t gone north yet. Damnit. She refused to fail at this.

[eurothug4000]

INTERVIEW WITH TAKAYUKI YANAGIHORI - DIRECTOR ON PHASE PARADOX PS2

As I was researching the Japan exclusive PS2 game Phase Paradox (sequel to Philosoma on the PS1), I quickly realised there's very little information available on this sci-fi horror game. Thankfully, the director of Phase Paradox responded to me and I was able to learn more about this obscure title which I'd like to share!

Takayuki: First, let me introduce myself. I started my career as a game developer at Sega, then at SCE (now SIE) and Microsoft. After that, I started my own small studio and am still making games. This time I developed PHASEPARADOX, which was originally a survival horror game for PS1, but changed to an adventure game for PS2.

You mentioned to me that the game was difficult work, what parts of development were challenging? How many years did development take?

The most important thing is that it was an early PS2 title. There was a lack of development equipment, and it was difficult to tell whether bugs were caused by the program or the development equipment, and PS2 development itself was difficult. We also had to handle a large amount of CG, which was very difficult because it was still the 1990s and the CG tools and techniques were not yet up to scratch.

As for the development period, I was in charge for 4 years, but I heard that it took about 2 years before that. (I heard that the game had already been playable on PS1.)

In contrast, what parts of development were the most enjoyable for you?

Game development is always fun. Creating assets using 3DCG, which was the state-of-the-art at that time, building a worldview in accordance with science fiction research, setting scenarios and characters, etc., all of it was both painful and enjoyable.

I was inspired to try new things.

Were there any movies or video games that were a big influence for Phase Paradox? For example, Massimo's character reminded me a lot of Ron Perlman and Arnold Schwarzenegger!

The original idea was to create a "Resident Evil" game based on the world of the "ALIEN" movie. I incorporated a lot of my knowledge of game design and movies into the project.

As you said, the character of Massimo is Arnold Schwarzenegger, and Jude Sutcliffe is Michael Pare. All the other characters have Hollywood star models. I think it was allowed because it was then, but it is not now, lol. The game part was based on Movie Adventure.

The cast for the game is very impressive! Since the voices are in English, was the game planned for worldwide release?

Yes, it was supposed to be a big seller all over the world. However, it was cancelled due to the short playing time and the lack of gameplay. The voice recording was done in L.A.

The presidential election was taking place at the time of recording, and I remember the staff saying to me, "You are in the U.S. on a historic day”.

I love the design of the environments. There are many rooms (like the arcade) that have a very unique and detailed appearance. Did a lot of work go into creating the interior of the Gallant? What were some of the inspirations behind the designs?

The artwork was done by Matsushima-san, continuing from Philosoma. This person has experience working on costumes for the Ultraman series at Bandai, and he drew the foundation of the world, the art settings, and all the original drawings.

Phase Paradox is a sequel to Philosoma. Was it difficult to make a game with a fictional world and characters that were already established? Or did this make work easier?

As I mentioned in 5, it was not difficult for me to continue with Mr. Matsushima. Rather, I enjoyed it very much because I was allowed to add my favorite SF essence to Philosoma.

Do you remember any features that you and the team wanted to include in the game, but maybe couldn't because of time or cost?

Action game elements, mini-games, more options. I am very disappointed. But I think if we had included these elements, we would still be making them, lol. How many more years would have been needed?

At the time, we abandoned the idea of calculating or thinking about that number. We concentrated only on completing it.

What did you and the team want to achieve with Phase Paradox? It feels like a very "cinematic" game, was this rare with games at the time?

The result was a common movie game, but rather than a cinematic part of the game, we were aiming for an innovative adventure game where the situation changes depending on the choices you make.

I was aiming for something like "Detroit: Become Human", if I may say so now in the 21st century. Every time I play that game, I feel strongly about it.

As a final product, what are your personal thoughts on Phase Paradox?

It was a lousy performance, is all I can say. I have always regretted that it was worth it to spend so much money and market value to bring a game with only graphics to the world.

Is there anything else you'd like to share about working on the game? Any strong memories or interesting facts?

As I wrote in #8, I was aiming for a groundbreaking, new game, but I have nothing but regrets about developing on new hardware, not being able to devote the effort to gameplay due to my focus on graphics, and being buried and truncated in various ways by a large amount of work.

More than 20 years have passed and I have sealed my memory, but when I recall it like this, I feel more proud than ashamed, feeling that I was young and ambitious.

Thank you very much.

What are you working on currently?

I am currently making a soccer game at GADE inc.

One is a blockchain game. The other is a 3D action soccer game. I am working on both of them to get rid of my dissatisfaction and regret of the action soccer game I made in Sega.

I am proud to say that I still have new initiatives and high aspirations, so please look forward to them. Both are for the whole world. However, we are having a hard time because we don't have the money for promotion. We would be very happy if someone could help us. We are also planning to launch a new innovative adventure game service on the Web and an action game with an elaborate world view.

If anyone is interested or willing to support us, please contact us.

Thank you to Takayuki for taking the time to provide his insight into Phase Paradox's development! I've made a video on the game which you can watch here: https://youtu.be/bTSFY5M08BU

[denimbex1986]

'Cillian Murphy had just spent the day filming what felt like 30 scenes on “Oppenheimer” with the desert sand kicking up and blasting into his eyes when his co-star Robert Downey Jr. greeted him, trying to boost his spirits. And — this is how Downey remembers it, and when the legend becomes fact, print the legend — Murphy launched into a lament about how, when he had returned to his “18-dollar-a-night hotel room” the previous evening, he found his bags in the hallway and thought, “F—! I haven’t checked out yet. I have to sleep!”

“Every indignity that could befall someone who’s trying to do something .... It was like the tears of Job,” Downey related after a recent screening of the Christopher Nolan blockbuster. “Forget the call sheet and the job. It was everything else. It was the most Irish experience I’ve ever witnessed.”

Nearly two years later, Murphy and I are talking on a late-autumn day in L.A. He’s removing his coat and pulling his chair into the sun because, yes, he’s Irish, and part of the Irish experience is to soak up as much sun as possible when the opportunity presents itself. As to what Downey is ascribing to his native land, Murphy can do nothing but laugh.

“I don’t know if that means that Irish people are more predisposed to suffering,” Murphy says, smiling. “I think he’s being very sweet and saying we were like a troupe, moving at quite a pace. We were just staying at motels by the freeway and moving around. It was not glamorous. The way Chris works is that everything is equitable. No one has trailers or personal makeup. Everyone gets in a bus. It feels like independent filmmaking, but on a f—ing grand scale. And that’s the way I enjoy working.”

Murphy, 47, also enjoys not working, and he’s had a successful enough career in the two decades since his film breakthrough in Danny Boyle’s 2002 classic zombie film “28 Days Later” that he can describe such periods as being “happily unemployed.” That was where he was at a couple of years ago. He’d finished shooting the sixth (and final) season of the entertaining BBC crime drama “Peaky Blinders” and was in the midst of a glorious six months enjoying the company of his wife, Irish visual artist Yvonne McGuinness, and their two teenage sons. Then Nolan called out of the blue.

Actually, it wasn’t Nolan, but his wife and producing partner, Emma Thomas. It couldn’t be Nolan, because Nolan doesn’t have a phone, an eccentricity that’s either endearing or infuriating depending on the context. Thomas handed the phone to her husband, who told Murphy — in what the actor calls an “unbelievably understated British way” — “I’m making a film about Oppenheimer.” Pause. “I’d like you to play Oppenheimer.”

And just like that, Murphy was no longer happily unemployed. He was playing the title character in Nolan’s sprawling drama about the physicist known as the “father of the atomic bomb.”

“A big moment,” Murphy calls it, no stranger to restraint himself. Pause. “A biggie.”

In conversation, Murphy is pleasant and reflective when talking about his native country (he could and should write a book on the Ring of Kerry or at least narrate a self-guided tour) and the arts. I’d read that Nolan sent him photos of David Bowie wearing high-waisted, voluminous trousers from the singer’s Thin White Duke era as a visual reference for the gaunt silhouette he imagined for Oppenheimer, a man who possessed such a manic work ethic that he forgot to eat, subsisting on martinis and Chesterfield cigarettes. I pull up a photo of Bowie taken shortly before his death, wearing a sharp suit, black fedora and beaming smile.

“He looks a little alien, which is what we were going for with Oppenheimer, I think,” Murphy says. He holds onto my phone, looking at Bowie. “One of the greats. That last album [“Blackstar”] was f—ing extraordinary. What a gift to leave us with. Nobody else could have gone out like that.”

Murphy’s most striking feature — his piercing blue eyes — have been noted at length, for good reason. “Oppenheimer” co-star Matt Damon notes how he’d find himself distracted working with Murphy. “It’s a real problem when you’re doing scene work with Cillian [because] sometimes you find yourself just swimming in his eyes,” he told People.

Those eyes are what first attracted Nolan to him. The filmmaker was leafing through a newspaper while writing “Batman Begins” and came across a photo of Murphy from “28 Days Later.” He couldn’t shake the image of this actor with a shaved head and “crazy eyes” and made a note to meet with Murphy for Batman, a role that eventually went to Christian Bale.

They’ve now made six movies together, with Murphy playing the menacing Scarecrow in the “Dark Knight” trilogy, a petulant business heir in “Inception” and a character known simply — and quite accurately — as “Shivering Soldier” in “Dunkirk.” They share a mutual interest in conveying a character’s emotional conflict through close-ups that linger on an actor’s face and allow the audience to feel inner turmoil. In Oppenheimer’s case, it was the searing anguish of a man a bit late to realize and appreciate the consequences of what he’d created.

“To me, great screen acting is all about ‘show, don’t tell,’” Murphy says, “and being able to transmit emotion and energy just by force or presence or charisma.”

I ask him about influences in that regard, but Murphy demurs, saying that if he starts listing actors, he’ll wake up in the middle of the night, thinking, “F—, I left that person out.” He reiterates that his favorite movie moments aren’t big set pieces but watching actors in reflection, inactive, doing nothing, but revealing everything. “I find that compelling in the highest order,” he says.

Murphy had ample opportunity to do just that in “Oppenheimer,” portraying a character caught in a moral dilemma of his own making.

“I knew it would have to be a quiet, small performance, because the themes are f—ing huge,” Murphy says. “What’s happening inside his heart and his mind can’t be painted big, particularly when it’s captured on an Imax camera and it’s going to be shown on a f—ing 80-foot screen. I knew it would have to be delicate and tiny, most of it.”

Murphy doesn’t like to dwell on what he did once call the “monastic experience” of the film’s 57-day shoot or on the months it took to decompress afterward. Such talk would be a little too close to the “Irish experience” Downey had mentioned. But all of these efforts did make me think about something that Emily Blunt, who plays Oppenheimer’s wife, Kitty, in the film and worked with Murphy in “A Quiet Place Part II,” noted about him.

“She said that off set, you’re a hoot,” I tell him, fishing for an example or two. Murphy does not oblige, but he does express how his friendship with Blunt created a trust that informed their portrayal of lifelong partners.

“She’s also one of the funniest people, and I have a rule that I can’t work unless there’s a lightness around the set,” Murphy says. “There has to be some levity. A lot of the films I do are quite heavy and go to some dark, challenging places, and you have to be relaxed to do that. So I don’t walk around in a state of f—ing angst. I need to feel at ease. I can’t be in that dark place all the time. I don’t have the stamina for it.”

Murphy saw “Oppenheimer” at the film’s July world premiere in Paris. Two days later, he and the rest of the cast left the London premiere to show their support for the impending SAG-AFTRA strike. By the time he returned home to Dublin, his wife and sons had already seen “Barbie,” so Murphy went to the cinema by himself to complete the “Barbenheimer” experience.

How do you go incognito to the multiplex, I ask.

“I time going to movies very well now,” Murphy says. “With the ads and trailers, I always arrive a half hour late, slip in and then slip out.”

I grouse how that half hour feels like it’s getting longer by the year. Murphy agrees. And yet ...

“The greatest democratic collective art form is sitting in a darkened space with strangers,” he says. “To be part of a movie that people went to see multiple times and part of a great moment for cinema, that frenzy for those two films, was just lovely. I don’t know if we’ll ever see it again, but I’d like to hope so.”

[darlingshane]

After Carmy leaves the pantry, Mikey breaks down in tears and slaps himself in the face. Was that on the page?

A lot of it was scripted. It’s a real testament to Chris, who wrote the episode. When he leaves him there, 99.9 shows out of 100, as soon as Carmy leaves that pantry, you go with Carmy. To stay on Mikey and be with him, it defies so much of how we do television, in terms of perspective and whose point of view we’re really looking at. It’s a private moment with this character that we know doesn’t exist. They give him two — the moment that he’s sitting there waiting for him, suggesting that he’s feeling the buzz of the pills that he just took, but more importantly, afterward: They leave him there to sit in that pain, and to show it. That moment was understanding that this dream was never going to happen, this was never going to work because he knew where he was headed. He knew where he was going.

Opportunities like that are so unbelievably rare to give characters that private moment. I do think Chris wrote the slap. It was just so, so beautifully written and makes it makes the job super easy.

How did you create that tension with Bob Odenkirk, and what conversations were had before that?

The power of an ensemble, like the power of theater, is you look around that table and everybody is just a thoroughbred. The tension is created in the room. Every time we went and did it, it was completely different — a new person sort of popped up and did this new bubble of intensity or dread. It was super fucking tense in there, because everybody came to play and everybody really knows what they’re doing. And the material is so gorgeous.

With Bob, I’m such a huge fan of his. I thought it was just such a perfect choice. He was so down to come at me, and vice versa! When you have an environment like that, everyone is willing to be a little bit dangerous, because there’s so much trust. There’s so much love and everybody’s so dedicated. The goal starts to then be, OK, how can I shock this person? How can I scare this person? How can I do something that they’ll never expect? How can I lose myself within this? When you create an atmosphere that’s that unbelievably creative and that unbelievably safe, danger is not a hard thing to find. It was really fun! It was like great theater work, and it’s really rare.

How many times did you film that scene? I imagine it may be a bit exhausting.

I would do that all day. I don’t really get exhausted, that’s like a thrill for me. The show moves unbelievably fast. It’s a real testament to what this group has found: the conglomeration, the alchemy of these great artists with this great material. Last year, I had to shoot my stuff basically on my lunch break. They flew out to L.A. for me to shoot that scene. And they told me, “We move so fast.” I don’t think there was a single day that we were there for more than six hours. [Chris Storer] gets what he wants. He shoots it the right way. The crew is as good as I’ve ever worked with. Everyone is so unbelievably dialed in. The cameras are always moving. They’re totally alive.

You said every take was different. How much improv was there — was the table flip scripted? And what type of forks were you using?

They were kind of like plastic forks? Oh, the table flip definitely wasn’t scripted. But it’s still a testament to Chris. I was like, “Hey, man, you gotta let me kind of go crazy at least once!” I do a lot of action stuff and I’m aware of how big of a reset that it is, where the food is meticulously laid out and it’s so specific and is a character within itself. He definitely gave me the green light. It’s funny when you work with directors, especially in TV, because sometimes they’ll give you the green light, but then be like, “Just maybe save it ’til the end.” Chris was like, “Go do you.” I think the funnest thing for me really, in that scene, was to be off camera and just to keep that intensity, keep that fight going with Bob and see everybody else’s reaction. It was just such a joy to do.

I put on subtitles for some of my second watch, especially the scene with you, Ebon and Jeremy talking about Claire. Your one-liners were cracking me up. Did you say she’s a “basket of biscuits”?

Yeah, “all that and a basket of biscuits” is a Jon Bernthal D.C. line for me. That was definitely one that I threw in. When Chris is behind the monitor, they’re cheering you on, sometimes they’re yelling lines from behind the monitors. It’s this comedic, super dark, really, really authentic and honest world. There’s this air of anything can happen and let’s push it, come up with stuff and be really, really creative. And honor the moment. It really is the best way to work. And with Ebon, it’s such a natural conversation for us. We really found that scene on the day.

[fern-thee-otter]

gimme ur most controversial AIB takes and I'll give you cheesecake<3 -K.

currently fasting, but will do it anyway. most of these, if not all, are from the l.a.:

no one talks enough about ann's past and how it most likely traumatized her. even if the manga barely gave her something about her past, netflix could've given her some more, but it always focuses on ruining character arcs/storylines left and right.

the K♤ was totally butchered (both the character and the game) and the attempted killings of heiya, ann and kuina were absolutely unnecessary.

people gotta stop reducing chishiya to a sex object. especially in l.a.. i understand that nijiro is hot and everything, but he's playing an actually complex, manipulative character, not a f*ckboy who's going to screw you silly whenever he wants to.

and on a similar note, chishiya is coddled too much for doing the same stuff female characters get bashed for (i.e. urumi is a b*tch for manipulating people to survive, yet chishiya is praised to oblivion for the very same thing)

niragi/banda stans aren't safe either. i understand those who see the two as complex, antagonistical roles (and as in chishiya's case, more than f*ckboys), but if you actually condone their acts, feel free to get the f*ck out of this page.

arisu should've gotten more time for himself in between the games, but the writers sure don't like respecting people with ptsd

there's some people out there who see kyuma as simply 'the naked guy' when he is so much more than that. he's quite one of the wisest characters in the series/manga. at least imo.

as my friend, @miraofhearts2point0 has pointed out, heiya's hypersexuality (which, if i'm right, it's a form of mental illness) is demonized, and her character was severely butchered up.

and as i have voiced some posts ago, i do not see the need for a plot continuation that is mainly expected from season 3. the manga has wrapped up pretty decently in itself, and if we're going to have a s3, it would've been better for an adaptation of the retry or a citizen prequel but, of course, netflix likes to do its own thing. disappointed, but not surprised.

and i have much more, but i'm getting kinda sleepy now.