#THROUPLE SWEEP!!!!

[hearthomelesbian]

[ID: A screenshot of Tifa and Aerith holding onto Cloud's arms in Final Fantasy VII Remake. End ID.]

Cloud, Tifa, and Aerith (Final Fantasy VII)

[sho-minamimoto]

hey! mod of the bracket here! sorry, i just think it's really funny that your pinned post is about how minamimoto "holds no love in his heart for anyone" and then you scroll down and it's all of my #lovewins polls <33 keep up the incredible work <33333

I AM NOT IMMUNE TO COMMITTING TO THE BIT !!!

[ervotica]

hot rod — a.donaldson & p.zweig

pairings; art donaldson x fem!reader, patrick zweig x fem!reader, art donaldson x patrick zweig

summary; patrick comes to visit you and art at college. he finds college life is a lot more adventurous than once anticipated

warnings; mdni, 18+ only, SMUT, threesome, overstim, oral (m receiving), sub leaning!reader and art, more dom leaning!patrick, established throuple, polyamory

a/n; i’m not so sure how i feel about this tbh. i love the dynamic though so i pushed through even when it got away from me a little🥲 there will be another drabble for older!art and his pretty girl soon!!

you and art fuck until you’re brain dead and passed out from exhaustion. always have. neither of you possess an off switch, and when patrick’s not there to rein the pair of you in, things get a little… messy.

his cum is dried in your hair, the sticky substance smeared across your cheek, his knuckles still wet with slick.

patrick walks in, full belly laughs and peels you from art’s sweat soaked form, gives your cheek a pinch when you stir and whine.

he doesn’t clean you up because he likes to leave you naked whenever he has the opportunity — which is more often than not. seriously, you two need close supervision.

he just carries you with him to that shitty little armchair in art’s dorm, the room still stinking of sex and the humid summer air clinging to your skin; art shines with perspiration where he’s face down on the bed.

pat makes do with the lack of room, hooking a bare leg over the backs of your thighs until you’re squeezed snugly against his torso, face smushed to his chest. you’re snoring, and it makes patrick smile, slumping down in his chair to rest his lips against your cheekbone.

you wake slowly, eyes sticky and crusted over with exhaustion. your face is almost nestled beneath patrick’s armpit where you’ve been writhing in slumber and you grumble at the scent of sweat, layered with cheap aftershave. his hard-on presses to the center of your stomach and you can feel everything— the curve it makes now it’s hard and weeping, the feel of the spongy head, the vein that runs through the middle.

“you smell, pat,” you grumble, reaching up blindly to snatch the cigarette from between his teeth and take a long pull from the stick.

“yeah, well you’re not so hot yourself, babe. the whole room reeks.” he reaches down to tug on a loose strand of hair at the crown of your head. “there’s cum in your hair.”

“not my fault.” you stretch upward like a cat, curling into patrick’s chest. “where’s art gone?”

“still sleeping, baby.” he lights another cigarette, sacrificing the first one to you - still resting between your lips - and the clicking of the lighter draws your head upward to gaze through heavy lashes at him.

“come to bed,” you murmur, kissing his knuckles. your free hand coasts a long line across his jaw and you dig your thumb beneath his ear, giggling when he scrunches his features and relents, and pushes you to stand with a swat to your naked backside.

art curls into you instinctively when you roll onto the mattress, your hand threading through the curls atop his head. you scrub sweeping circles across his bare back and he hums a pleased sound, smearing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. patrick splays himself over the pair of you, all long limbs that sit askew to cover as much of your naked frames as possible.

art squints through the yellow light that illuminates the room, bright and artificial on his sensitive eyes. your movements against him don’t halt, a slow, rhythmic, loving sweep of your hands that he’s come to look forward to in moments like this. his jaw tilts upward as he mouths at your neck like a starved man, like you haven’t just gone five rounds and collapsed from overstimulation.

“you two need supervision,” patrick snorts. you quirk a bemused brow. “i’m serious, look at what you’ve done to each other! you look like you’ve been mauled.”

“jealous, much?” art mumbles sleepily, the sound muffled through your skin. you’re laughing and it splits your expression in two, eyes crinkled with amusement as the strawberry blonde boy snipes at patrick.

“should’a come to college with us, pretty boy,” you giggle. “could’a had this twenty four seven.” you dip your head until your brow presses to art’s. “poor pat, with no one to stick his dick in. how will he ever cope?”

“you could help me out, sweets,” he deadpans, the nickname saccharine and sour on his tongue all at once. art watches you through heavy lids. you huff, biting playfully at art’s lip before you tilt your head to face patrick,

“okay,” you chirrup. art’s quick to sit up, separating from your warmth in favour of nuzzling against patrick. patrick tips his chin down, slanting his lips against the blonde boy’s.

meanwhile, you’re working his cock through his shorts, palming the muscle until it chubs up beneath your hand, drooling a wet patch through the fabric. patrick groans, hips rolling up into your touch when you hook your fingers beneath his waistband and tug his cock free.

he moans into art’s mouth and your mouth goes dry at the sight. you’ve always loved to watch them like this, the way they get lost in each other, the way they start fervently pushing into one another’s space until patrick inevitably makes the first move and sticks his tongue down art’s throat.

patrick turns to putty beneath art’s roaming touch, huge paws that squeeze and grope and push at every inch of skin they come into contact with, not stopping even as you press your face to the seam of patrick’s balls, inhaling the sweat-soaked musk that creeps up your nostrils.

art’s hand snakes downward, flicking over pert nipples and ridges of muscle before he’s flicking a thumb over the weeping slit of his cock. patrick’s back bows into an arch as you lave your tongue over his sack, humming into the sensitive skin, full and heavy and begging for release. his hips rock upward into you as you seal your lips over him, eyes heavy with lust as art comes down to meet your mouth over his mushroom head.

it’s filthy and messy, downright pornographic as art licks over patrick’s cock, tongue pressing flat against the corner of your mouth and letting his spit pool there. you’re moaning - unable to help yourself - pressing your face forward to slant your lips over art’s fully. it’s all spit and drool as you lick into art’s mouth, the heady taste of the brunette boy still on your tongue, and then patrick’s bracing a hand against each of your heads and easing his cock through the seam where your spit slick mouths mesh.

you gasp and your damp lashes flutter, heavy with tears, and art’s tugging you frantically by your waist, pressing your bare chest to his own as patrick throws his head back and groans, shallow thrusts deepening. his breath stutters out in short, sharp bursts, chest heaving when your face slides down, down, down, all the way to the base of him until your pretty plump lips are wrapped around his sack.

you suck it into your mouth just as art takes patrick down his throat, the head of his cock bulging through the hollow of art’s throat as spit stretches and bows from the corners of his lips and lands in globs across your face.

you’re too drunk on the pleasure to care, the vibrations of your little sounds shooting right through patrick until you feel his balls tighten; he groans, long and loud, pushing closer to the pair of you as his cock pulses rhythmically and he releases down art’s throat.

you push your way through until your mouth is on art’s again, tongue licking into his mouth to taste patrick, wanting to be marked, claimed by both of them. his lips part, nose pressing to your cheek, and then he’s lifting you into his lap, his cock an angry red and pressed to the seam of your thigh.

patrick groans. there’s no fucking way he’s hard again.

“no more, you horndogs!”

[ceilidho]

prompt: forced throuple au; Ghost decides that you and Johnny are his (part 6; ghoap x reader) masterlist

-

Johnny cleans up the lamp in the morning.

He might as well, being on second watch and all. Ghost wakes him up at the ass crack of dawn with a gentle kick to the ribs (gentle for him) before rolling over on the couch and going right to sleep. It’s routine for them to fall into sleep like rocks sinking in water, but the waking up is never quite as graceful. Johnny snorts awake and whips his head around sharply from side to side before confirming that he’s just in his girlfriend’s apartment and the asshole that woke him up is just his ornery lieutenant. 

“I better not hear any fuckin’ jabber,” is all Ghost says before closing his eyes. Johnny chews his lip to keep the grin off of his face.

He tries to keep it down after that. For the first couple of hours, he sits up against the wall and scrolls on his phone. That keeps him occupied until any lingering exhaustion is flushed from his veins.

There’s a broom and dustpan in a small closet in the kitchen where his girl also keeps the garbage bags and compost bin that he uses to sweep up the mess, and he tries to make as little noise as possible while he cleans up. The glass makes a tinkling sound as it’s swept up though, just loud enough that it inevitably wakes his girl up.

She comes creeping out of her room late into the morning, the shop not due to open for another hour or two. The late weekend opening hours mean she usually gets to sleep in. 

Weeks back, it used to be something that Johnny got to do with her as well, cuddled until she’d suddenly pull away, then waking up to her swallowing his cock, peeking under the bedsheets to find her pretty head bobbing up and down his length. Groaning and palming her head to press her lips down to the base, eyes rolling back at the sound of her gagging around his length, the base of his dick a mess of come and drool. 

In the present day though, she clears her throat. Johnny blinks and refocuses on her. 

Her eyes flit to Ghost’s still form on the couch and when they dart back to Johnny, he raises a finger to his lips. Let the man rest. It’s the least Johnny can do for him after he dragged him back to his girl’s place to make amends. She hazards another cautious glance at Ghost—his lieutenant lies still as a statue on the couch, motionless like he isn’t even breathing—before pursing her lips, displeased. 

In the light of day, his previous anger feels cleansed. He understands now. They’ve gone about this all wrong, topsy-turvy. He’s been chasing his own tail and making a mess of things for far too long now, but Ghost’s voice is clear in his head now. It settles him.  

So when his girl goes to open her mouth, maybe thinking that she can whisper softly enough so as not to wake Ghost up, he steps forward quickly and covers her mouth. 

She squawks behind his hand. Again, he shakes his head. Any sound would be too loud for the man slumbering on her couch. 

Johnny can feel her swallow behind his palm and it almost makes him salivate. His fingers twitch on her cheeks like he might press them into the soft skin and make her lips pout. 

“Not here,” he murmurs, almost mouthing the words.

He waits until she nods before removing his hand. Then he leaves to go dump the dustpan filled with glass into the trash. 

She corners him in the bathroom after that and it’s all he can do not to come in his pants. It’s not his fault he’s been trigger happy since Ghost tugged them off on the sparring mats and came on his stomach; he’s been pent up since the last time he saw her. There’s still flakes of dried come on his belly. He only half resists lifting his shirt to look. If his girl knew, she’d be mortified. 

He wonders if she’d be more upset that he let Ghost beat off on him or that he didn’t clean up his mess. 

Johnny lets the bird guide him to the toilet, letting her shove him down onto the lid.

“Ah, hen, ye really wanna do this now?” he teases, spreading his legs and wrapping his hands around her waist to reel her in, slipping up her shirt at the same time. 

He almost moans when she slaps him across the face, biting his lip when she gasps right after, surprised at her own actions. “Oh—fuck—I’m so sorry—”

He clicks his tongue, lips curling up into an impish grin. “Dinnae worry, baby. ‘M tougher than I look.”

It’s a small mercy that she’s too agitated to really look him over because if she were to direct her gaze even slightly south, she’d find Johnny’s shaft straining against his fly, hard enough to pound nails the second her hand touched his face. He swallows a groan and his fingers tighten, sinking deeper into her flesh. 

“I didn’t mean to—Jesus, it doesn’t matter.” He loves that when she gets frustrated, her bottom lip juts out. It makes him want to sink his teeth into it. “When your…boss or whatever…wakes up, can you please take him and leave?”

“Leave?” Johnny repeats, blinking up at her innocently. 

“Yes. Leave,” she says, stressing the word. He hums and strokes his thumb over the soft skin of her stomach, pleased that she hasn’t yet told him to take his hands off her. Sweet little bird. “We kissed and made up. That’s what you came for, right? So the two of you can get going once he wakes up.”

“No breakfast?” 

She looks distinctly unimpressed. “There’s a coffee shop down the block.”

“Aye, I ken, baby,” Johnny croons, pulling her in closer, smiling when she squeaks and braces her hands on his shoulders, his face almost cradled between her breasts. He turns his head to kiss one, mouth lingering over the cotton of her shirt, tempted almost to bite and rip it. “It’s jus’ that…seems an awful like the second Simon and I take off, you’re jus’ gonna go right back to cold shouldering me. Sure you’re nae jus’ putting on a little show for me now?”

Her fingers grip him by the fabric of his shirt. “Johnny—” She yelps when he bites the inside of her breast, snarling when she tries to pull away. “Okay, okay, okay, I got it—”

“That’s right,” he says with a content sigh, pulling back just the slightest bit. “You’re nae going anywhere. Not until we’ve talked this out, nice and civil.”

When she stares down at him, wide-eyed, like she can’t quite believe what she’s seeing, it’s a rush like he’s never experienced. He feels right in the flow of things now, his head on straight for once. 

“What’s there to talk about?” she mumbles, and he almost melts. “I’m not mad anymore.”

“Nae mad? Then why’re ye trying to kick us out?”

“Because I’m busy, Johnny,” she snaps. “The shop’s opening in an hour and I don’t have time to babysit the two of you.”

“Ye willnae even notice we’re here, hen, I promise. Fuck, I’ll even help ye out—make some deliveries, go shake anyone down that still owes ye—”

“I don’t shake down my customers, Johnny—”

“Whatever ye need, baby.” He drags his palms up her sides, pulling up her shirt with his hands. Her tits pop out like ripe fruit dangling in front of his mouth, puffy nipples begging to be sucked on. “Simon and I will be right here. Ye can use us however ye want.”

He stares at her nipple while saying that, unconsciously leaning forward until his lips graze her skin and his tongue pokes out. She doesn’t budge, just curses under her breath and lets him rub his tongue over her beaded nipple, shaking in his hold. Johnny bets if he pulled down those little sleep shorts of hers, he’d find a wet little cunt begging for a fat cock to fill her up. 

It’d take nothing for him to pull them down and give her what she’s asking for. The love of his life is tucked away beneath a layer of flimsy cotton and begging for him to give her some love and affection. Johnny hasn’t kissed her in God knows how long—a week? Two? He’d probably find her swollen and aching beneath her shorts; could get her to come just by dragging two fingers up the seam of her. 

He knows what Ghost would say though, so he drags his teeth over her nipple just for the pleasure of feeling her flinch and then pulls back. The bird blinks down at him with hazy eyes when he helps readjust her shirt, pulling it back down to cover her gorgeous tits, a damp spot on her shirt over the nipple he just had in his mouth. 

“We’re not going to…?” she asks, letting the question dangle in midair. She says it without thinking—clearly, because the second it dawns on her that she just asked if they were going to fuck in the bathroom with Johnny sitting on the toilet, she looks horrified with herself. It’s beyond endearing. 

“No’ with Simon in the other room, baby. Wouldnae be fair for him to have to listen in.”

He doesn’t tell her that fairness in this case doesn’t mean cruel. It means that it wouldn’t be possible. 

Still, he needs to shoo her out of the bathroom to tug one out into the toilet bowl. Johnny would be half tempted to jerk off onto her mirror just to leave his mark where she could see, but he has some manners. 

He gives himself a nice, leisurely tug with the help of his girl’s expensive hand lotion. It’s not as viscous as the lube in the gallon tub on his nightstand back at the barracks, but it’s a good substitute; makes his hand glide nicely over his shaft.  If he closes his eyes, it even smells like her, like it’s his girl giving him a morning reach around, and part of Johnny wonders whether he was too quick to kick her out of the bathroom. Ghost wouldn’t begrudge him a quick and dirty jerk.

The thought dissolves the longer his hand flies over his dick though. Hard to think about anything outside the present moment when his hand is braced against the wall and his orgasm barrelling towards him. When he comes, it’s with a deep, shuddering grunt, not even bothering to muffle the sound. He hopes his girl hears him from the other room. He hopes it makes her squirm and ache. 

When he comes out of the bathroom, another voice takes him by surprise.

“Johnny. You’re on breakfast.”

Ghost’s voice is gruff in the early morning hours, abrupt. Rarely could it be classified as gentle, but it’s like chert rattling in a leather bag after hours of disuse. Especially since it comes out of nowhere, the man asleep one moment and awake the next. Johnny’s worked with him long enough to not flinch at the sudden sound of his voice, but his girl hasn’t; she yelps when his voice comes unbidden from the couch, big body suddenly upright like he’s been awake the whole time. 

He’s no cook, but Johnny can rustle up eggs and bacon like any other self-respecting serviceman. On deployment, they used to rotate cooking duty every night, no one skilled enough to take over the post permanently. Still, Johnny eyes Ghost worriedly when he takes a seat across from the bird at her little kitchen table. It’s not a table meant for two grown men, just a small wooden thing with four chairs, only enough for one on each side. It means that Ghost’s knees knock against hers when he takes the chair across from her, forcing her to curl up into herself, tucking her legs under the chair. 

He stares her down. Menacing eyes. Not the kind of man you want sitting across from you, no matter the circumstances. It makes Johnny anxious to turn his back on them when he has to crack the eggs into the pan, checking over his shoulder religiously. The whites go crispy at the edges before he remembers to flip them over.

“You work downstairs in the flower shop,” Ghost says bluntly, breaking the silence. His first words to Bird all morning. Not a question.

“…Yes,” Bird answers gingerly. Her palms are clamped over her knees, sweating likely. “I own it.”

“Since when?” He doesn’t blink before firing off another question.

“Um…two years.”

“Where’d you work before?”

“In…in London. I was a shopgirl there though—”

“Where’s your family from then?”

It goes on that way for a time, an interrogation with no rhyme or reason. Even Johnny has to wonder at Ghost’s intentions—knows that there’s no shot that Ghost hasn’t already done a background check on her. Why interrogate the bird then? Why rattle off question after question in such quick succession? Why make her tremble and look down at the tabletop and stutter out her answers and fidget under his stare—

He notices Ghost’s hand slip beneath the table to grip his length, spreading his legs to help readjust.

Ah. Mean bastard. Of course he’d get off on making her squirm.

The bacon burns. Johnny can’t help it. He listens attentively to her clear voice—softer in the morning hours, still sleep-laden and flowery—whispering out her life’s story, dick getting hard behind the kitchen island. He bites his lip to hold back a moan when she trips over her words. Thrusts forward to rub his bulge against the underside of the island when she chews on her lip, relieving some of the pressure. It drives him mad that there’s a wet cunt going unsatisfied just a few feet away. 

Ghost shoots him a sharp look as if he can hear his thoughts. “Johnny.”

He turns around to flip the burner off.

[all4aoki]

  ⊹ 𝓜IXED 𝓤P 𝓛EAVE 𝓜E 𝓐LONE ⠀Ꮺ ָ࣪ ۰ ִ

it takes time for people to change . . . enha x f!reader (yjw focused), poly!enha, enha8thmember

wc . . . 18.2k , warnings! my poor attempts of writing angst, YN’s a little insensitive with the concept of a poly relationship but it’s new to her so it’s fine, she also cries a lot, alcohol, daddy issues & mommy issues, familial struggles in general, her dad makes a rude comment to Won, one F bomb, rushed writing, me guessing stuff about being an idol, not proofread

DISCLAIMER! I’m not assuming anything about Jungwon’s family. They’re barely mentioned and are soley used as a way for him & reader to connect

when speaking in … korean, english, japanese

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©all4aoki, 2024

     You had always dreaded your birthday month. 

There was never a specific reason, apart from the intense emotions that would never fail to arrive with April. When you lived in New Zealand, it was because of the first term of your school year ending. When you were studying in Paris, your life had been stressful during every waking moment due to the competitive environment of young girls vying to stay in the program. The hopes of becoming a dancer at the company outweighing anything else that might have once been important. Not to mention the intense living environment. And then, as a trainee, you were so focused on evaluations and working for your spot as an idol that you almost forgot to keep track of the days. 

Long story short, you were never able to enjoy your birthday. At some point, you had concluded that the day came with so much stress and anxiety, that you would never be able to bask in the fact that those hours were supposed to be all about you, spent celebrating your existence. 

This year, though, was a completely different scenario. 

Enhypen had been spending the days working towards their second comeback, and you could already tell it would be one of significance. You were all finally establishing your style of music and to say the least, it was a genre that you thoroughly enjoyed. It was just a plus that the other members liked everything about it as well. The recording process was finally something you were beginning to truly understand, and the dancing–well, the dancing had always been easy for you. One of the only things that you felt confident in and had maintained a passion for despite the challenges you’d endured. 

When April 7th came the year of your seventeenth birthday (eighteen by Korean standards), you’d found yourself in the practice room. Once again with the routine for Border: Carnival’s title track.

Sweat was beginning to perspire on the sides of your neck and the skin beneath your tank top and sweatpants was warm. You pushed stringy pieces of your hair out of your face, huffing out a breath of air as you got into position for the second verse yet again. Of course, you’d forgotten a hair tie. 

Thankfully, though, Jay hadn’t. As you passed him to get to your spot behind Riki, he gently wrapped his arms around your shoulders, spinning you back towards him. 

“Is a low pony okay?”

The grin on your face probably made you look like an idiot as your boyfriend began sweeping your hair, which was getting maybe a bit too long, off your skin. 

“Be careful, it’s kind of knotty right now,” you said softly as Jay smoothed some of the bumps that had formed as he pulled your hair back for you. Giddiness spiraled through your heart as he secured the hair tie that he’d been beginning to keep on his wrist at all times in your hair. His hands patted your shoulders gently as he steered you back to your place in the formation just as the choreographer finished talking with Riki. 

“There you go, birthday girl.” As you glanced over your shoulder at Jay, the subtle shade of red on his ears almost made you giggle. You could tell he wanted to do more than touch your hair, but with the circumstances, you knew he wouldn’t. 

Whatever throuple had been formed between Jay, Sunghoon, and you had quickly become the light of your life. Of course, it wasn’t without its struggles, but slowly, you were all starting to fall into a pattern that worked. A way where you could show your love for them equally while they expressed their love for you as well without the other getting too jealous. It was early in your relationship with Jay still, and for that reason, the three of you had yet to share the fact that you were practically being shared with the others.

It was moments like these where you wished that it wouldn’t be like this much longer. Where you wouldn’t have to hide your affection for both of your boyfriends in front of your other loved ones. Where you could dote on them like the loving girlfriend you strived to be because they both deserved that and more.

“Let’s walk through the counts for Riki’s part one more time,” the choreographer announced. You shifted your body weight into the balls of your feet as you spread your legs apart, preparing to move through the moves slower than what should’ve been humanly possible. 

Cleaning was always the most tedious part of any routine. Especially when it came to comebacks. One more time became two became three and then every time you closed your eyes all you could think of was the minuscule details that had been instructed upon your group. 

You wondered how long it would take for you to get tired of performing this song. Every day you would have a different opinion of how you felt about the melody you were moving to. Nine times out of ten, you adored every part of your job. But there were fleeting moments where you never wanted to hear the lyrics again. 

And unfortunately, despite only being a few hours into the dance rehearsal, you’d reached that point with Drunk-Dazed. It was probably only going to last for the rest of the day, but as you exited the marking stage of cleaning the second verse, you were growing tired. Maybe that feeling of this birthday being different was something your intuition had gotten wrong because that exhaustion you’d gotten so used to was finally showing its face. 

Your knees met the hardwood floor again as you dropped down between Jungwon and Heeseung, and you could only hope that the hits you were performing were sharper than they felt. Exhaustion blooming in your muscles, you pushed yourself back to your feet, bending your legs and folding at the waist, letting the beat control your tempo and trusting your body to deliver despite being on auto-pilot. 

Snap back up. Feet out. Twist right heel. Left arm out–

Pain snapped up through your nose as Jungwon’s hand collided with your face. Instantly, your right hand shot to the throbbing exuding from your nose, but your feet continued moving. 

The music didn’t stop. The only notice you got was the choreographer yelling at you to move a step back when it came to that formation. 

Only when Jake slid into the center as the pre-chorus began did the room finally go silent. 

“Your guys’ heads are all different angles right now,” the choreographer said as she moved to stand facing the mirror so you all could see her. “Top left-hand corner. Heeseung, your head is too far back…”

You didn’t hear the rest of what she said, opting to focus on the marks of red on the back of the hand that you pulled away from your nose. It was difficult not to groan in annoyance, and when your face reflected your emotions, more discomfort came from your nose as it scrunched up. 

“YN-ie’s bleeding,” Jungwon said, voice loud enough for the choreographer to hear. As well as everyone else. Including your two boyfriends, who quickly jerked in your direction, but the staff in charge swiftly stopped them.

“Jungwon go help her. YN, your part’s next so try to make it as quick as possible.”

Your fingers found the spot beneath the nostril that was bleeding, “Okay!” Following her instructions, you hastily moved across the practice room to your bags as Jungwon grabbed some tissues before heading over to the spot you were standing in. 

One of his hands found the back of your head, fingers disrupting the position of some of your hair and causing some flyaways. “Tilt your head back… There you go,” he murmured as you did what your leader asked. “Keep pinching your nose bridge,” Jungwon added as he held some of the tissues under your nostrils.

You weren’t particularly fond of this position. Or how soft his voice was. Unsure of what to say as he tended to your injury, you cleared your throat, “You could grab a tampon from my bag. We can just stick it up my nose and call it quits.”

Jungwon scoffed out a chuckle, rearranging the tissues so a clean part continued soaking up the blood. 

“Then all the blood would go to your brain and you would move even slower than you are right now.”

You pretended to pout, “I’m not slow. And that’s probably the most inaccurate thing that I’ve heard all day.”

“Really?” Jungwon laughed at the joke in his head before he even said it. “You spend the majority of your time with Sunghoon but that’s the most inaccurate thing you’ve heard?”

Side-eyeing him, you push away the hand that was holding the tissues under your nose. “Don’t be mean,” you laugh, trying to take the soft papers from his hand. Jungwon tries to avoid your grasp.

“Let me help you,” Jungwon says as he slaps your hand away, placing the tissues back beneath your nose. “It’s your birthday after all.”

You sigh, “One birthday where I don’t have to do anything is all I’ve ever wanted, but no–” The pressure on your nose shoots up through your nerves again and you let out a small, ‘Ow’. Jungwon instantly pulls away, muttering lots of small “Sorry’s”. You smile at him gently, fighting the remaining soreness of your nose as you do so, “It’s okay, Oppa.”

“If it makes you feel better,” he says softly, “I know how you feel.”

You take a moment, swallowing harshly as your ears distantly pick up the sounds of the choreographer working with the other members. “Nobody knows exactly how you feel,” you say, trying to keep your voice low. Jungwon smiles a little at your words, and as you look at his eyes, you can see how they’re trained on your nose and the work he’s doing to stop the bleeding. 

“Okay…” he huffs, the small smile still tilting the corners of his lips up, “Can I say I’ve been in the same situation before?”

You shrug, trying not to laugh, “You can say whatever you want.”

Jungwon shoots you a look as he fixes the tissues under your nose again. It was easy to forget that Jungwon was older than you, even if it only was by two months, and that you needed to treat him with the same respect the older members expected from you too. The way he looked at you, the way he spoke to you, it was just so effortless to let sarcasm and teasing slip into your conversations, causing your words that would probably give Heeseung a heart attack if you ever said them to him. 

“My family…” Jungwon starts quietly, and you can see the way the light behind his warm eyes dims a bit. “They expected a lot from me no matter the circumstances, or the day, or whatever–” he cuts himself off, and you can tell that he’s frustrated at the fact he can’t find the right words. 

“Take your time,” you offer gently. Jungwon nods, unable to meet your eyes.

Eventually, he pulls the tissues away from your nose, and you lower your chin again. No more blood slips from your nostrils, and you figure you should probably rejoin the group. But a larger part of you wants to continue this conversation with Jungwon. Your feet stay glued to the same spot as you hear the choreographer call your guys’ names. The boy in front of you instantly drops the vulnerable look on his face, offering a smile that is clearly fake to the staff as he nods. And then you’re turning around to head back into the formation, leaving the topic back in the corner of the room.

Your eyes meet Sangmi’s, and your best friend raises her eyebrows at the dazed expression you’re sporting. All you can manage is a small shake of your head, wordlessly telling her to drop it. With the way her mouth presses into a thin line, you conclude she’s suppressing a laugh and you resist the urge to go over and smack her upside the head.

“YN-ssi,” the sharp voice of the choreographer cuts through your thoughts, and your head snaps to look over at her. She gestures for you to get into your spot and you nod once, following the directions.

“Yes, yes. Sorry.” As you begin working through your moves in the pre-chorus, the once bothersome sound of the beat served as the perfect thing to distract you from overthinking Jungwon’s words. 

Sunghoon and Jay are quick to attach themselves to your sides the moment those three and a half hours finish, Sunghoon being able to wrap his arm around your waist while Jay keeps an appropriate distance from you. 

“I’m fine, Hoon,” you mutter as your boyfriend takes hold of your chin to try and tilt your head up.

Sunghoon looks down at you and you puff out a small breath, “We need to wrap you in bubble wrap or something, I swear you’re always getting hurt.”

You push away his hand as it tries to touch your nose. 

“Stop.”

Jay chuckles as he leans down to collect your bag along with his, enjoying the sight of you playfully scolding Sunghoon. 

“Sunghoon-ah, Jungwon-ie took care of her. You touching her nose would probably make it worse.” Sunghoon’s lips turn down into a frown and you feel your heart melt a little at the cute sight. Halfheartedly, you reach up to ruffle Sunghoon’s hair, the strands damp with perspiration. 

“Thank you for being concerned, Hoon, but I really am okay.” 

The younger’s dark eyes dart over to Jay before they settle back on you as he sighs deeply, wrapping both of his arms around you in a small hug.

“Some birthday you’re having.” You laugh at his words as he presses his chin onto your shoulder.

Your line of vision turns to Jay, “Some birthday I’ll be having when I’m home, back in bed and cuddling with you both.” Jay reaches out to hold onto your arm as you begin to move away from Sunghoon, jerking towards the direction of the door. 

Jay glances around the room for a moment, and you realize that Jungwon, Sunoo, and Heeseung have already left. “Just– wait here for one more second,” Jay says quietly as you grip onto Sunghoon’s forearms that are still wrapped around you. 

“Why? People have already started leaving–” 

The majority of the lights in the room turn off as the door pushes open, a cluster of flames held by Jungwon being the only light source as the boy, along with the rest of your members approach you. When you set your eyes on the cake, their singing meeting your ears as a sort of fondness fills your heart. You don’t remember the last time someone sang to you like this on your birthday. Cake and all.

Your eyes dart around to each of their faces, taking in the way the glow of the fire makes their features shine in a golden light. The shadow of Heeseung’s lashes, the fondness of Jay’s smile, the way Jake’s eyes turn up slightly as he grins, Sunghoon’s hair falling in front of his eyes, the soft flush growing on Sunoo’s cheeks like rosebuds, and Riki’s plump lips forming over the words of the song. Sangmi’s little claps to the uneven beat and… the way Jungwon’s looking at you. 

His eyes are shining. You always thought that when people described eyes like that, it never made sense, but the gleam in his pupils proves you wrong. Something jerks in your chest, but before you can think about it for too long, your members have finished the song. All of them stare at you as they wait for you to blow out the candles. 

“Make a wish,” Jungwon whispers, your eyes flicking back to his to still see the sparkle evident. Clutching your hands together in front of your chest, you lean forward, thinking for a moment before gently blowing the flames out. The rest of the group claps as you stand up straight to smile at them, the lights in the practice room flicking back on. 

As Jungwon hands the cake off to one of the staff, Jay reaches to wrap an arm around your middle before the younger speaks up again. “What’d you wish for?” You can’t tell him. Not because of the whole saying that wishes wouldn’t come true if you said them aloud, but because you just–couldn’t. “Now why would I tell you that?” At least you could still make him laugh.

When you get back to the dorm, there’s an hour left of your birthday. And you’re exhausted. 

The group enters the small house, voices still loud despite the long day of training and preparation as you all kick off your shoes and remove your coats. Sunghoon’s following you so closely as you enter the dorm that his scent is the only thing you can smell and you turn around to look at him.

“Tired?” You nod and he repeats the action back to you. “Wanna go to bed?”

You glance down at your phone screen and the sight that meets you has a sudden rush of sadness overwhelming you. 

“I think I want to sleep alone tonight…” As you trail off, Sunghoon furrows his thick brows a little.

“Is something wrong? Thought you wanted to cuddle?”

You smile weakly, trying to play off the tightness that’s growing quickly and suddenly in your chest. “Nope. Just don’t wanna have to share with a bed-hog tonight.” Your boyfriend smiles at you, hand reaching out to rub your arm softly. 

“I don’t hog the bed, but if that’s what you want, then of course…” he pauses for a moment, hand still brushing over the skin of your bicep and sending little sensations through you. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You’re nodding before you can even process it. “If I wasn’t I would tell you. Or Jay.”

Sunghoon might still be a little suspicious, you can’t tell, but he hides it well. His lips form a firm line as he wraps his arms around you in a weak hug, chin resting on your hair as you both still stand in the entrance of the dorm, all of the other members already spreading out throughout the home. Your mind drifts to Jay for a moment, before Sunghoon places a soft kiss on your head.

“Wait for a second, Jay’s getting your present from us.”

“Can we save it for tomorrow?” you say after a beat of silence and you regret it right away. Sunghoon pulls back a bit, expression reading concern again as you rush to cover your words. “I’m just really tired–”

“What’s wrong?” Jay approaches the two of you, a small and poorly wrapped box in his hands. 

You shake your head and force a smile for what feels like the hundredth time as you shift in Sunghoon’s arms. “Nothing. Did you guys wrap that yourselves?”

They both chuckle. “Is it that obvious?” Sunghoon asks.

“Unfortunately,” you tease them, taking the gift from Jay while uttering a small ‘Thanks’. 

Jay tilts his head to the side as your eyes stay down, refusing to meet his own. “You gonna go to bed?” A soft hum of agreement leaves your throat and Jay’s head moves in an understanding nod. Sunghoon lets go of you as you move to hug your boyfriend. 

“I’ll open this tomorrow morning with you guys. Try to make my birthday last as long as possible.”

Jay smiles before kissing you softly. The touch of his lips helps to soothe the dull feeling of pain in your heart. He pulls away, thumb running gently over your cheek as Sunghoon watches you both. 

“You’re so loved, do you know that?”

How did they see through you so effortlessly? How did they just always know? It didn’t feel fair sometimes and you have to swallow thickly to push down your tears. “I know,” you confirm quietly and Jay smiles a little again as Sunghoon kisses your cheek. 

“Good. Because we love you so much,” Jay continues and you hope your face shows him how much you truly appreciate his words. 

“I love you both too. So much.”

They both give you one more quick kiss before releasing you from their grips. You stand still for another moment, just taking in the sight of them both and letting yourself soak in their love. Sometimes, you don’t know what you did to deserve it, but you have to always promise yourself to appreciate it more than anything else you have in your life. 

“Good night.”

“Good night. Happy birthday, princess,” Sunghoon says and you smile watery at them both before turning to walk down the hallway to your room. 

As you enter the space, closing the door behind you, you don’t bother to turn the lights on. That dreaded feeling that you can only describe as heavy, and scary, weighing on you as you place the birthday present on your desk before going to sit on your bed. 

11:46 P.M. You unlock your phone slowly, going to contacts and pressing on the one you’re looking for. The line rings twice before you hear your sister pick up the call.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” she cheers from the other side and you laugh at the sound of her voice. From the way her words are rough, you can tell she's just woken up. “You’re an adult now… Oh my god, you’re getting old.”

“At least I’m not 24. You’re almost halfway to thirty.” 

Your sister shushes you, “You’re lucky it’s your birthday, otherwise I wouldn’t let that slide.” You laugh. Hearing her talk takes you back to a time when you were younger. The familiarity of her accent makes you think about New Zealand, about your home, and how easy things were when you were growing up. Nostalgia and sadness are a dangerous combination, and you push them away from your heart to the best of your ability. 

“I sent you a card. I don’t think it’ll get to Korea anytime soon, but it’s on the way,” she continues and you’re thankful for the way she keeps talking. “Did you have a good day?”

“Mhm,” you hum. “It was busy, but it was good.”

“That’s good,” she says before she’s quiet for a moment. “Have mum and dad said anything?” 

That’s what you had been waiting for–the other shoe to drop. You try to not start crying instantly. 

“Um… not yet,” you offer pathetically. She kisses her teeth on the other side of the phone. Then she mutters something under her breath. You don’t bother trying to catch it, you know she’s probably insulting them. “But you know, there’s still time.”

Nine minutes.

“Don’t worry about it, Sissy.” She says as you reach up to rub at your eyes. 

“I know I shouldn’t. It just sucks.” You suck in a deep breath. “I thought… I thought that they would at least wish me a happy birthday, you know?” Your voice grows shaky, and the first tear falls. You wipe it away before it gets even halfway down your cheek. 

“I know,” your sister tries to comfort you. “They’ll come around eventually, YN. They’re shitty parents, but you’re their daughter. They can’t stay mad at you for following your dreams forever.” 

More tears escape your eyes, “I hope not.” And you really do. No matter how much you want to hate them for the way they’ve treated you since you joined I-Land, you can’t. Maybe you’re too forgiving, or maybe it’s the fact that they’re just the people who are supposed to love you no matter what. “I’m, um… I’m gonna go.”

“Okay,” your sister doesn’t protest, knowing that you probably want to be alone right now. “I love you.”

Her words make you smile a little, “I love you too.” And then you hang up the call. 

You don’t want to dwell on it, you’ve already done that enough for probably the rest of your life. You feel embarrassed as you sit on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at your phone screen, watching as the clock ticks closer to the next day and waiting for even just the smallest message from your parents. It never comes.

Time passes quickly after that. You want to throw your phone, want to smash it into pieces as that sadness from being neglected turns into anger. It was a cycle you were used to, and you still hadn’t learned how to cope with it. When Sangmi comes into your shared room, you finally get up to change out of your clothes and into your pajamas. Usually, you both would talk a little before bed, but it seems like she’s even more tired than you, because as soon as her head hits the pillows, the sound of her soft snores fills the silence. 

You try to fall asleep, tossing and turning and trying to think of anything else, but it’s no use. Your emotions are too heavy and it feels like nothing will make you feel better. Not even Jay or Sunghoon. Eventually, you peel back the covers of your bed, slipping out of your room quietly as you go to the kitchen to try and find any melatonin that you might’ve left in the cabinets. 

The dorm is dark as you slip through the hallways, everyone else is asleep or at least tucked away in their rooms as you enter the kitchen. The tile is cool on your feet as you quietly pad over to the cabinets above the stove, the different temperature helping to ground you a bit. You stand on your toes as you open the first one. Nothing. The next. Nothing. The next. Nothing–

“What’re you doing?” You let out a small yelp, jumping slightly as you startle, hand releasing the cabinet door and causing it to slam shut. Both you and Jungwon flinch at the loud slam. Neither of you speak, listening to hear if the sound woke anyone up. It’s almost eerie how quiet the dorm is. 

You clear your throat, turning around fully to face the boy standing on the other side of the kitchen island. “I couldn’t sleep,” you admit, crossing your arms over your chest. “I was gonna get some melatonin, but I couldn’t find any…”

Jungwon doesn’t say anything for a moment. “...We keep all of the medications and medicine in the bathrooms.”

“Oh,” you laugh weakly. “You’re right. I must’ve been thinking about… What we did at home.” Your bottom lip trembles at the realization. God, you missed being at home so badly. You missed being with your family so badly. “Sorry,” you mumble as you feel the water slip down your face, “Sorry, I don’t know why I keep crying.”

Jungwon is rushing around the kitchen island as you lift your hands to your face, trying to hide the way your features scrunch together as you begin crying. He pulls you into his arms, shushing you softly as his hands squeeze you tightly. Distantly, you remember something about how pressure can help calm anxiety and stress, but the front of your mind is focused on how everything hurts. 

“I don’t know what I did, Wonnie, I don’t know why they won’t talk to me,” you say through small breaths, soaking the fabric of his shirt. 

He tries to look down at your face, but you’re pressed too tightly against his body. “Who? Who isn’t talking to you?”

“My parents,” you say and you miss the flicker of heartbreak on Jungwon’s face. 

Jungwon sucks in a deep breath, “Can you breathe with me for a second?” 

“Okay,” you agree weakly. His chest rises against yours as he takes a breath and you count to four as he holds it before letting it out. You let your thoughts slip away from you as you listen to the steadiness of his heartbeat and follow along with his breathing. A few minutes pass, but your crying slowly comes to a stop. Jungwon glances down at you.

“Let’s go get you back to bed,” he says softly. As you stare blankly in front of you, eyes tracing over the wet spot your eyes have left on his t-shirt over and over, circles and circles, his hands run over your arms again. “YN?”

Your eyes flutter a little, breaking out of the way you’d been spacing out, “Yeah… yeah, okay.” Maybe Jungwon doesn’t want to let go of you as you move to walk past him, but one of his hands pathetically tries to grab at your sleeve. You let it fall. And you ignore the pang of guilt you feel for the small action. Distantly, his footsteps follow you to the bathroom he shares with Heeseung, Sunghoon, and Riki. They’re not as loud as yours and you can tell he’s wearing socks. 

Crazy, you think to yourself lamely, how can someone sleep with socks on?

He waits until you’re both inside the bathroom, door swinging shut before he flicks the light on–the blaring, white flashes through the space, making both of you flinch from how bright it is. A gentle hand on your shoulder guides you to sit on the closed toilet as Jungwon moves to one of the drawers. Trying to provide yourself some comfort, you cross your arms over your stomach, hiding your hands in the long sleeves of the crewneck. 

“Here,” Jungwon whispers, crouching down in front of you as he offers you two of the dark purple gummies. You don’t meet his eyes as you take them, popping one in your mouth at a time and chewing slowly before swallowing. It takes thirty minutes for them to work. You don’t want to stay awake for thirty more minutes.

Jungwon sits on the tile of the bathroom floor, shoulder practically brushing your knee as he folds his own up to his chest.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You shake your head.

“Do you want me to stay?”

You nod. 

From the way he falls silent, you know he’s struggling with what to say. Whether it’s for the sake of simply breaking the silence or for trying to comfort you, you don’t care. You just want to hear his voice. Something that’s familiar, something that you can trust, and that you know will make you feel better. Because that’s always the way it’d been with Jungwon: easy. And not a lot of things felt easy anymore, so maybe you clung onto that and held him to that expectation a little too much, but you couldn’t help it. It was annoying, feeling useless in these scenarios. 

“Earlier,” Jungwon finally speaks up. Neither one of you looks at the other when he utters the small word, but you don’t have to. You know what he’s going to talk about and you don’t need to see the expression on his face as you hear the emotions in his voice. 

“What I was going to say was, I know what it’s like to have high expectations set for you. And I know how much it can destroy you when you don’t meet those expectations.” He sucks in a deep breath, but as he keeps talking, you hear the vulnerability slowly disappear. He was entering leader mode. This wasn’t the same Jungwon that was talking to you earlier, this Jungwon was trying to teach you something.

“Not for yourself, but for the people you wanted to meet those expectations for.”

You finally look at him. He’s staring at the wall and you count to ten before he blinks slowly. He looks tired and suddenly, you feel bad for having him stay with you like this. “I’m the one that’s hardest on myself. I do everything for myself.”

When Jungwon makes eye contact with you, you watch as walls begin to break down again. And you feel your own reservations fading as well.

“No, you don’t.” 

You hate that he’s right. “I’ve been trying to figure it out since I met you… You make sacrifices for everyone, YN-ie, sometimes I feel like you make more than I do. And I’m the leader.”

“I care about you guys–”

“You think that the only way you can make us like you is if you do everything for us. If you act the way you think we want you to act.”

Okay.

It was too late at night to be analyzed like this and the day was too full of emotions and Jungwon’s words just make you angry. “You don’t know what you’re talking about–”

“You know how I grew up,” he continued. “With my grandma, because my parents were always busy. I know they loved me. I know they love me, but there were and are times when I’ve felt like I was never doing enough to be worthy of their love.”

“Jungwon, seriously–” 

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide anything around me anymore,” he pushes, voice soft. You hate the way that it almost seems like he’s being so careful with words all of a sudden after dropping everything on you like that. “Anything from us– we love you YN and we want you to trust us…”

“It’s not that simple…” 

This conversation isn’t going to progress anywhere else, that much you can tell. The melatonin may not fully be in effect yet, but you can feel the symptoms slowly start and you welcome the drowsiness wholeheartedly. With the way Jungwon looks at you, you know he’s thinking the same thing, and your eyes stay on his face as he pushes himself up from the ground.

“I’m sorry,” he says and you wish you could tell him it’s okay. “I didn’t mean to– I didn’t mean to be so… intense.”

When he offers you a hand, you take it, and he gently pulls you into another hug. It feels nice being held like this now that the onslaught of emotions from the previous couple of hours has passed through you. 

“I just. I just wish you could see what I see.” His voice is soft, and you nod against his chest, eyelids finally drooping. “D’you want to walk?”

Your voice is strained, “No.”

You don’t have to ask him to carry you, Jungwon’s already lifting you into his arms and turning off the bathroom light before exiting back out into the hallway. The silence is welcomed by you as he walks you back to your room, his arms strong around you, and you wonder when he’d grown up so much without you noticing. You feel your mind begin to drift, eyes falling shut as he carefully pushes your room’s door open, doing his best not to wake Sangmi. 

The warm and comforting touch of your bed causes you to melt into the sheets instantly as Jungwon lays you down. Subconsciously, you feel him lift your hair off your neck, knowing you hate the feeling of it rubbing against your skin while you sleep, and sense your covers being pulled up to your chin, another thing of comfort. 

You’re practically asleep when you feel his lips ghost over your forehead, the sensation is barely there, but you still feel it. 

“Please don’t be mad at me.”

You fall unconscious before you hear him say anything else.

Things between you and Jungwon don’t change in the slightest. In fact, neither of you bother to acknowledge what had happened a few nights ago. You don’t need to see his thoughts to know that the conversation is playing on a loop in his mind as well. There's the tiniest bit of tension like he’s walking on eggshells around you and is scared to say the wrong thing. It’s clear he feels bad for everything he’d said that night too, with how he’s begun focusing more and more of his attention on you–not letting you lift a finger to do anything. You were going to just let things fizzle out on their own, hopefully working up enough courage to talk to him about things, but Jay pushes things into motion before you can process it anymore. 

“I’m worried about Jungwon.”

You look up at him from your spot on his chest, resting your chin on him as you furrow your eyebrows. “What do you mean?” Jay brushes his thumb over your cheekbone as he looks at you. Awkwardly, you laugh a little, “What?”

“He seems like he’s throwing himself into things too much,” he explains.

You purse your lips a little, eyes flicking around his face while trying to tell what he’s thinking. “Elaborate.”

Jay huffs out a laugh. “I know he’s still getting used to being our leader, and he’s doing an amazing job but I think that he’s too focused on making sure everyone else is happy–”

“And not taking care of himself,” you finish, nodding slightly as you understand where your boyfriend’s coming from. Looking back over the past week, you can’t believe that you hadn’t noticed that yourself. Your observation skills were something you were extremely proud of, and the little signs of Jungwon coming back to the dorms later than the rest of the members, politely refusing to join the group’s activities because he was busy planning better ways to lead practice, and receiving hours upon hours of talks with your manager was something you should’ve put together sooner. 

You shift slightly to lay your head back down, and Jay’s arms wrap back around your middle. “I think you’re one of the only people he’ll listen to.”

“Oppa–”

“I’m being serious. I don’t know if it’s because you guys are closer in age or what, but he connects with you really well.” You weren’t really sure either, but you knew Jay was right. “Could you please talk to him? Not for me, but for him?”

His caring for the younger boy made your heart soften. It was one of the things you loved most about Jay–how attentive he was even if he didn’t always want to show it. Turning your head a little, you smile softly and nod, causing Jay to smile as well. 

“Of course.” He kisses you gently.

There’s no point in wasting time. Partly because you don’t know when you’re going to get a day off again and because you now have a growing concern for Jungwon. Later that day, your mind drifts back to that night where you’d both sat in the bathroom together as you stand in the kitchen, filling up your water bottle as you wait for Jungwon to show his face in the dorms again. How could he ask you to not hide anything from him when he was hiding things from you? Well, not necessarily hiding, but neglecting. 

Sure, Jungwon and you still had a ways to go in terms of opening up to one another, but Jay was right in the sense that you guys connected on a level that you hadn’t with any of the others. Even Sunghoon and Jay. Cold water splashes over your hand as your water bottle overflows and instantly, you’re pulling away and mentally scolding yourself for getting distracted. 

Distantly though, you hear the familiar timber of your fellow 04-liner’s voice, followed by Jake’s accent. Leaving your water bottle on the counter, you exit the kitchen, going into the living room where they’re both standing together, huddled around Jungwon’s phone. 

“Hey,” you say and they both look up at you, their wide eyes making your heart stutter pathetically in your chest. “What’re you guys doing?”

Jungwon clears his throat, “Just… looking over schedules for tomorrow.” 

Oh, he’s definitely lying.

You raise the corners of your lips, doing your best to put on a charming smile as you move closer to them. “Jungwon-oppa are you doing anything else today?”

“Well–” 

“Perfect, can we go get coffee?” You don’t let him finish, and Jake laughs at the expression on Jungwon’s face. Jungwon’s eyes flick over to Jake and the elder immediately stifles his laugh, pressing his lips together in a way that you can tell he’s trying to hold back another bout of laughter. When Jungwon looks back at you, you can see the hesitance in his eyes. “Please? I wanted to talk to you about something,” you ask, trying to lay the pleading on thick to get him to agree. 

You can see the way your words and begging eyes begin to work on his mind, and it isn’t long before he’s nodding, muttering something about calling your manager. Jake’s arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you into a half hug as you smirk a little in satisfaction. Halfheartedly, you squeeze your arms around Jake, causing him to let out a small grunt before you move away from him, reaching to grab Jungwon’s arm.

“Let’s go, I haven’t had any caffeine all day and I’m starting to get a headache.”

Jungwon grumbles a little as you pull him along, shouting a small goodbye to Jake as you both begin to put your shoes and coats on. “That’s a sign of addiction. You’re having withdrawals.”

“Coffee is one of the safest things you could be addicted to.”

“Well–”

“Actually–”

“Stop cutting me off,” Jungwon laughs as he finishes zipping up his jacket, grabbing his wallet as well as a bucket hat and a black mask. 

You reach for the front door, opening it as you chuckle. “Sorry, Oppa.” Jungwon shakes his head, but his smile gives it away. You know it’s hard for him to even pretend to be mad at you. Because you feel the same way. He jokes with you as you get into the car, and during the drive to the coffee shop that you both frequent together, you’re the one who does most of the talking. It’s not like you, but you don’t really mind because you can tell Jungwon’s thinking about something. 

One of the staff trails along behind you and Jungwon as you enter the café, a subtle sense of protection as you stay close to the boy making you only have to worry about this upcoming conversation. The two of you order and wait off to the side for your drinks. Catching glimpses of Jungwon while the whirring of espresso machines and chatter resound throughout the room, you feel that mixture of worry and concern. It was only recently that you had experienced the same issue of ignoring your needs for others, so you had a feeling of what Jungwon was going through. That being said, only if Jay was actually right about what he’d been seeing with the younger man. 

With the icy feeling of your cold brew in hand, you loop your arm through one of Jungwon’s as you both exit the café, opting to go on a small walk before heading back to the dorms. For a moment, you take the chance to breathe, trying to deduct what to say before he ultimately beats you to it. 

“Why did you ask me to come with you?”

You look up at him, the ice in your drink rattling against the cup with each of your steps. As convincingly as you can make it, you smile, “What? D’you not think I want to spend time with you?” He tilts his head a little, tufts of black hair peeking out from under his beanie.

“Not that, but Jake was right there too.”

“How observant of you.”

“Seriously, YN-ie.” His serious tone makes you awkwardly laugh, head turning straight forward again as you sip at your drink. Jungwon pauses for a moment before speaking up again, “Is this about what happened last week?”

You do your best to choose your words carefully. “Kind of. Figured we would have to talk about it eventually.”

Jungwon hums, “So we’re ripping off the bandaid?”

“Yes, we are,” you agree. Tightening your grip on his arm a little, you feel his phone buzz in the pocket of his coat. 

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” Jungwon starts in a hushed voice, probably trying to keep the words between you and him and away from the prying ears of other people walking by the two of you. Thank goodness for face masks. “I think… I just think that I don’t really know how to comfort you yet.”

You shrug, “I wasn’t uncomfortable. It was weird that you knew those things so easily, that’s all.”

Jungwon chuckles, “You’re not as mysterious as you think you are.”

“I never said I was mysterious.” You laugh along with him before the sound dies away. “Having people that see me so effortlessly, that understand me so quickly, it’s not something I’m used to.”

You can tell Jungwon is listening intently to you by the way his body is ever so slightly tilted toward yours. When you glance at his eyes, it’s clear he’s thinking deeply about something, maybe trying to piece your words together. Suddenly, you’re thankful for the fresh air as you take a deep breath.

“When I was growing up, I was moving around a lot–you know… New Zealand and France and Japan and I never really got to make super strong connections,” you say, eyes traveling over the trees that line one side of the sidewalk. “And I’m thankful for all of the experiences I’ve had, but I know that I’m shy and that I don’t really open up to people, but I think it’s because I’ve always felt like an outsider wherever I went.”

Cat-like eyes are on you, and you feel a wave of comfort as you lock your irises with him. 

“Anyways, what I’m trying to say is that I’ve learned how to trust you faster than most people.”

Jungwon doesn’t say anything for a few steps and you sniffle awkwardly. “Don’t feel too special,” you push and his eyes crinkle at the corners, signaling a smile.

“I trust you too,” Jungwon says directly. His words help soothe you a bit. 

You clear your throat, “And you would tell me if you’re struggling, right?”

With the way Jungwon hesitates, you know he wouldn’t, and it’s hard for the thought to not make you a little sad.

“Maybe after I got past it,” he offers. “I know I tell you to tell me everything, but part of that is because you’re supposed to.” Your heart clenches in your chest. “I’m supposed to worry about you, take care of you. Not the other way around.”

This time, he looks away from you. “You know I care about you, Jungwon-oppa. Let me show it.” You pause before continuing, seeing how your words are affecting him and how the defensiveness in his body language slowly begins to melt away. “Talk to me.”

“Everything with this life is… a lot. I knew being an idol would be demanding but,” he pauses and you nod for him to keep going. “We haven’t even had our first comeback yet and I feel like I’m struggling more than normal.”

You squeeze his arm in a comforting manner. “Don’t be afraid to lean on us, Jungwon-oppa. We’re here to help you, you don’t need to be so strong all of the time.”

The sight of his wide eyes as he looks down at you has your heart soften in your chest. “But I’m not supposed to need your help. I was picked for this position despite my age and I have to show that I can do it–”

“I understand that your responsibilities are stressful and that you just want to help us but, Jungwon, someone needs to put you first if you’re not going to do that for yourself.”

Both of your steps have slowed, and you realize that you’re subconsciously trying to prolong this conversation before the pair of you make it back to the car. Condensation from your barely-touched drink collects on your palm, and the plastic feels slippery.

“I can be that someone for you, Junwong-oppa.”

He’s avoiding eye contact with you now. You don’t think the pink on his cheeks and ears is from the chilly air anymore. 

“Yes, our lives would’ve been different if we hadn’t decided to pursue this path–” you say, voice growing in volume as a kind of passion takes over you for him to listen to you. For Jungwon to understand. “My parents wouldn’t be so mad at me and you wouldn’t have so many responsibilities at such a young age, but we have to work through these struggles together…” 

Now, your steps have come to a halt and you pull on Jungwon’s arm for him to fully face you. “We can help each other, Oppa. Neither of us should have to fight these things on our own.” He looks hesitant, like he’s fighting between two different ideas. Desperate, you reach up, holding his cheek to get him to meet your eyes.

“Please.”

That single word is what breaks through his resistance, and you can’t help but let out a breath of relief as he slowly nods.

The date for the comeback was drawing closer at a greater speed than your debut. Which was weird. Sure, both were major milestones, but you thought that there would be more of a rush for Border: Day One. Considering the short turnaround after I-Land and all. Or maybe it was because of everything that’d been happening with your personal life. Honestly, you didn’t know anymore–much less care. 

There was nothing normal about your life, as much as you liked to pretend there was, nothing was normal. Not the fact that you had the blessing of being able to love two men at the same time, not your career, not the responsibilities you had at such a young age. But there were glimpses of a normal life at times, certain things that made you slip into the fantasy. Like Jungwon. 

When you were with each other, you’d agreed to let each other believe that you were just normal high school students. Was it healthy? Probably not, but it was a way you were helping each other cope, and that was all you could ask for with all of the pressure you both faced. There was no idol talk allowed. It was just YN and Jungwon. Even if you had to go to most places with a bodyguard. Although, those instances were becoming less and less. Because you both were getting really good at sneaking out. 

“Mmm… okay. If you were a kind of silverware, what would you be?” you ask him, taking another bite of your coconut ice cream and letting it melt on your tongue. It was becoming harder to come up with questions for each other, hence the ‘What if?’ game you’d been playing for the expanse of the night. 

The two of you continue walking along the mostly empty sidewalk. It was late at night, not many people were out and about and the moon was high in the sky, casting a silver glow over Jungwon as you look over at him.

“Knife.”

You furrow your eyebrows and laugh a little at his answer. “Why?”

“Because I’m skinny and dangerous–”

“No, no, absolutely not,” you laugh loudly, leaning into his side at his words.

There’s a look of surprise on his face, his black face mask pulled down around his chin as he eats his vanilla ice cream. “What? I thought there were no wrong answers.”

“Well, that was a wrong answer–” Jungwon cuts you off as he bumps your shoulder with his, causing you to stumble away from him a bit. You watch as he bites back a laugh. “You think you’re sooo funny.”

Jungwon takes another bite of his dessert, “I am funny.”

You pout a little, falling back into his side. “Sometimes,” you mumble, stirring your ice cream around absentmindedly, “Not when you’re making fun of me though. Or shoving me.”

“Oh, please, I barely touched you.”

“Yeah, well, you’re gonna be in trouble with Hoonie when he sees the giant bruise on my shoulder.” Jungwon lets out a scoff. When he looks over at you, you feel your heart leap at the cute smile on his face, his dimples prominent. 

“You’re being dramatic.”

You shrug, “Maybe you don’t know your own strength.”

Jungwon laughs, head falling forwards a little and some of his hair flops over his eyes. You picture yourself pushing it away, but you stop yourself. 

“I know Sunghoon-hyung’s strength. And Jay-hyung’s strength, and I wouldn’t be a match for either of them.”

Looking back down at your melting ice cream, you speak up again, “I think you might actually have a chance against Jay-oppa– Wait.” You stop walking, looking at Jungwon in surprise. 

Did he know about you and Jay?

How? You’d never told him. You weren’t planning on telling any of them for a while, considering how the relationship was still something you were getting used to. Sunghoon and Jay as well. But Jungwon just glances back at you like it’s the most casual thing in the world, not a hint of judgment in his brown eyes and you don’t know if you should be relieved or concerned.

“You know?”

Jungwon sighs softly, linking one of his arms with yours as he pulls you to start walking in the direction of the dorm again. You still gap at him, wide-eyed at how normal he seems. 

“I’ve been spending pretty much every day with you for like, two weeks. I would’ve been an idiot to not notice it.”

“And?”

He doesn’t meet your eyes, and for a moment, he almost looks sad. “And you love them. And they love you and I think that that’s the only thing that should matter.”

A wave of reassurance washes over you and suddenly, your chest feels much lighter. Your throat is less tight. “We were gonna tell you all eventually, I swear.”

Jungwon shakes his head. “It’s okay, YN-ie, really. We aren’t obligated to know everything about you.

“But you– But we aren’t supposed to have any more secrets from each other,” you counter. You aren’t exactly sure what you’re trying to do. If you actually want him to be upset at you or not. After all, the guilt of lying to your members about your relationship had been building to a point where you were ready to burst. As you thought about it, it felt nice for someone else to know. Especially because that someone was Jungwon. 

His adam's-apple bobs as he swallows another spoonful of ice cream. “We both know that’s just wishful thinking.”

You roll your eyes playfully, “Hey…”

“What I want you to know is that you deserve all of the love in the world. You’re a special girl, YN, after everything you’ve been through you should accept the love they have for you. And I support it.”

A smile grows on your lips and you rest your head on his shoulder. “Thank you, Wonnie.” And you really do mean it. Thankfully, the conversation drifts to other topics as you continue making your way back to the dorm. There’s a sense of relief in your heart. Happiness and… some kind of sadness whose source you aren’t aware of. More like it’s a source you’re not ready to confront yet. Instead, you let yourself enjoy Jungwon’s company. Listening to his laugh and the way he speaks, you notice that he sounds happier. Sounds more like himself and you let yourself believe that the time you’ve been spending with him has helped. 

Because it’s at least helped you.

The dorm is silent when you both come back, going through the steps of your sneaking-in/out routine without alerting any of the other members or manager. It’s hard though as you try not to laugh at the ridiculousness of the scenario and you find yourself not wanting to say goodnight to him. 

But you both take off your shoes and your coats and your hats and masks, and you both throw away your now empty ice cream cups. And then Jungwon says goodnight and you find it in yourself to mutter a small “Goodnight” back. 

When you make your way through the hallway and peek into your room, Sunghoon is still asleep in your bed, and Sangmi in hers. The giddy feeling in your heart only grows. Maybe Jungwon was right, you conclude as you gently shut the door behind you, heading towards your bathroom. Maybe you did deserve the love the world was finally beginning to offer you. 

You feel like you’re floating as you get ready for bed, a stupid smile on your face as you massage serums into your skin and brush your teeth hastily. The taste of coconut ice cream fights through the taste of mint and Jungwon’s face still bullies itself to the front of your mind and– Your phone buzzes in your pocket.

Confused, you let your toothbrush hang in your mouth as you reach for your phone in your back pocket. When the screen lights up, you do a double-take at the contact that reads at the bottom of the device. 

Your first instinct is to throw your phone at the wall (funny, how that’s been your go-to move for the past couple of weeks), but then, you decide against it. Anger is a powerful emotion, and you find yourself rushing out of your bathroom in a fashion that was probably a little too loud to be considered careful. The walls and other familiar surroundings of the place you now call home blur past you as you practically run to Jungwon’s room. Trying to calm yourself down, you nudge the door open and peek your head into the room. Each of the boys are in their beds, but as your eyes find Jungwon, you can tell that he’s moving around too much to truly be asleep.

“Wonnie,” you whisper harshly. Nothing. So you whisper his name again, and again. Thankfully, on the third try, he lifts his head to look over at the door. His eyebrows furrow and the corner of his mouth lifts as a sign of confusion. Doing your best to stay quiet, you push the door open enough to wave him over. You think he grumbles something as he gets out of his bed and makes his way over to you, but you don’t really care.

You hand your phone over to him in an instant.

His eyes widen as he reads the contact. Mum.

“I can’t believe you’re actually doing this.” 

You don’t look over at him as the car continues moving down the street. “Me either.”

Your parents were in South Korea. To see you. They hadn’t been in contact since you told them you were joining I-Land. 

The turnaround from that text message and how long they were actually staying in the country was so short that you barely had any time to think about what you wanted to do. Part of you hated them, but the other part was unsure if you would ever get this opportunity again. 

Desperate for advice, two nights ago you and Jungwon had sat in the living room and talked things over until only a few hours were left in the night. You had wanted to involve Sunghoon and Jay as well, but it all just happened so fast. And Jungwon was the only one who knew about your issues with your family. Of course you would fill your boyfriends in with all of the details once this dreaded dinner was over, but for now, you were grateful that Jungwon was there with you.

He had been there for you for weeks, ever since your birthday. Even though you said you would be the one to help him, he was the one who’d actually helped. You wish you could put your gratitude for him into words, but you’d never been the best at explaining things. So you were letting him come with you. 

Your head was a mess and the anxiety in your stomach was even worse. You’d felt nervous over things before, but right now, you just felt sick. A woman’s intuition was never wrong, and yours was screaming at you to ask the staff to turn the car around and take you back home where you could have dinner with your real family. But you were an emotional person, and right now, your longing for approval and the memories from your childhood were trumping that tiny voice in your head that was telling you this was a mistake as the car parks in front of the restaurant. 

You sit there for a moment, silent. 

“Do you want me to come inside with you?” You still don’t look at him. You think you would burst into tears if you did. But your parents were waiting inside and you needed to give him an answer.

“Um. Sure.”

You can feel his eyes on you, the way he’s watching your hand tremble as you reach to open the car door. 

Trying to focus on your five senses instead of the thoughts in your head, you get out of the vehicle: the feeling of the spring night air, the sound of the bustling city, the taste of the blood in your mouth from chewing on your cheek too hard, the smell of the food wafting from the open door, the sight of Jungwon. He looked so strong, so sure as he stood next to you. You wish you could take a page from his book. But that’s what set the two of you apart–his ability to push his emotions down while yours led you to do things that probably wouldn’t help you in the long run.

He looks over at you and when your eyes meet, your heart stops and you feel strangely calm for a moment. You snap out of the daze just as quickly, though. Awkwardly, you clear your throat and tilt your head towards the restaurant, signaling him to follow you. And then your feet are moving towards the entrance. 

The place would be cute if you could actually focus on the design of the interior. You’d never been to this restaurant before, which didn’t surprise you, you couldn’t even begin to guess the number of places to eat in Seoul. But your parents had recommended this place. Probably because they’d eaten here before. Probably because it made them feel more comfortable. You couldn’t feel more out of place though, even as Jungwon reaches down to hold your hand. 

The sight of them sitting at a table knocks the air right out of your lungs, and you have to remind yourself to breathe. 

You watch as they look up and as the sight of recognition takes over their features. Swallowing harshly, you force a small smile as they both grin and rush over to you. Your mum doesn’t hesitate to pull you into a hug, breaking your hold on Jungwon which makes you panic a little.

“Oh, my baby! I missed you so much!” She pulls back and you can’t help but want to believe her as you take in the sight of her face. She’s barely aged, but you’re significantly taller than her now. The smile on your face feels painful.

“Hi, mama.” Her eyes don’t change as you speak–they’re still crinkled in the corners as she takes in the sight of your face after only seeing it through screens for months. Behind you, Jungwon clears his throat, an effective form of breaking you out of your daze. 

“Oh,” you say softly, moving away from her and reaching for Jungwon. Gently ushering him towards your mother, you watch as he also forces a small smile. “This is Jungwon.”

Your mother’s face hardens at the sight of your group member. “Jungwon-ssi… Nice to meet you,” she says in broken Korean.

“You too, Mrs Aoki.” He’s so polite. The epitome of control despite the way you can see his fists clench as he greets her with a bow. Your mother nods in approval, but you can see the questions behind her eyes. The primary one being: ‘Why is he here?’ Her speculation makes anger simmer in you and to stop yourself from saying something you’d regret, you begin to move towards the table.

“Let’s sit.” The four of you take your spots at the table, drinks already sitting on the surface and you watch as one of the workers comes over to take your orders for what foods you all would want for the grill. Jungwon does a majority of the ordering, you too focused on trying to process everything that’s happening and your parents aren’t exactly fluent in the language you’d begun to use on a daily basis. 

You look over to your father, who’s already sipping on a beer which isn’t a surprise to you. Alcohol tended to put him in a better mood. Which would be especially helpful during heavy conversations just like this upcoming one. “Hi, dad.”

You may take after your mother, but you can see your eyes in his own as he makes eye contact with you, expression unchanged. Then over at Jungwon, then back at you. “What is he doing here?”

“I invited him,” you state the obvious, reaching for your water to try and swallow the lump in your throat. “Thought it might make things a little less awkward.” Jungwon looks at you as you speak, dark brown eyes reading confusion and you try to offer him what’s hopefully a comforting smile. 

“He cannot speak English. Cannot contribute to the conversation.”

“Dad–”

Your mother thankfully intervenes before your father can critique your decision any further, “Chiharu, I thought we agreed that this would be a dinner without conflict.” It was a bit surprising that she was trying to keep the peace. Clearly she had gotten used to standing up to your father during the years you’d been gone. The elder man looks over at Jungwon again before begrudgingly jerking his head in a sharp nod. You let out a breath of relief. Maybe he wasn’t happy that Jungwon was here, but at least now he wasn’t going to throw a fit about it.

Under the table, your hand scrambles to hold onto Jungwon’s, desperate for some kind of comfort despite only having been in your parent’s presence for a minimum of ten minutes. Trying to keep yourself calm, you take a deep breath and focus on the feeling of Jungwon’s larger hand surrounding your own. “Speaking of conversations, what’s the point of this sudden meet-up anyway?”

It was unsettling how that smile had yet to falter on your mother’s face.

“We were just in the country and we thought we’d reach out. It’s been so long since we’ve seen you, after all.” The frustration in your chest was so overwhelming that you thought you might start crying. How could they come to you like nothing had happened? Like nothing was wrong?

“You were just… in Korea?” You furrow your eyebrows as you look at your mum. Out of the corner of your eye, your dad finishes his drink. “You live in New Zealand. That’s like a 15-hour flight away.” Subconsciously, your grip on Jungwon’s hand tightens as your other elbow comes to rest on the table and you lean closer to them. 

The sound of your father’s glass being set on the wood is harsh. “Why can we not come see the country you seem to be so taken with?”

You fight the urge to let out a loud sigh, already on edge from the way your father had treated Jungwon. Not to mention the way they’d treated you and now were acting like nothing had happened. Starting an argument with them was pointless, especially when (as much as you hated to admit it) you’d missed them dearly and they had finally made an effort to reach out to you. 

“Never said you couldn’t, but Dad, it’s not like you to want to travel anywhere other than Napier… Since you and grandma seem to think that everywhere else is dangerous.” The look sent your way from the man is a warning, so you go quiet again as the food is finally brought to the table. Jungwon drops your hand, getting to work on turning on the grill and watching the surface as it begins to heat up. 

“How’s it going?” he whispers to you as you both help the server to place the several dishes of vegetables and meat on the table. 

Your appetite seems to be gone though. What a waste. “Not great,” you mumble back as your mum speaks up again.

“So. YN, tell us how the past few years have been treating you.”

Clenching your jaw, you force a smile, “I can’t say that it’s been easy starting a new life for myself here, but I don’t think I would’ve wanted things any other way–”

“I don’t know why you have to see this music thing through,” she sighs softly, a look of pity in her eyes. “You’re so young. You should come back to New Zealand.”

This. This is what you didn’t miss. 

How they tried to keep you so sheltered from the world and from pursuing what you truly wanted. How they only deemed what they saw fit for you as okay. How they only thought that Napier was the place for you. 

“Can’t do that mum.”

“Oh, sure you can…”

It was getting harder and harder to not speak harshly with her. Sometimes that seemed to be the only way to get things through her head–by being stern with her. It felt like she was the kid, not you sometimes. “No, I can’t. I signed a contract. I’m in a group now.”

“Then terminate the contract.”

“Mum–”

“You should listen to your mother, YN,” your father says, in clear agreement with his wife. “You know, I was reading in the news the other day–”

“Do you both understand that I have a life here now?” The tone of your voice finally has that sting that you’d been holding back, tired of them only thinking of themselves. “That I have people that I love here. And a job. And a home?” They both look at you with curious eyes as Jungwon begins cooking some of the food. 

“You’re seventeen. You know we’re just trying to do what we think is best for you and honestly, YN, you know this music thing won’t work out–”

“God, do you even know me anymore?” You say sharply. You were stupid to think that meeting with them would change anything. They were still too stuck in the past and unwilling to see your point of view to try and make any effort to understand you. “Have you bothered to see what my group has been doing? Because I hate to break it to you because this ‘music thing’ seems to be working out just fine.”

“Of course we know you, YN–” your father starts and that seems to be the final thing to force you over the edge.

“Then where was my birthday message?” Your bottom lip wobbles a little and you realize how loud your voice had gotten. Looking around at the few other customers in the restaurant, you sink back in your seat, lowering your voice to a soft, almost whisper. “My birthday,” you have to take another deep breath to keep your emotions from boiling over even more. “My birthday, and not even then can you guys acknowledge me. Why? Because you don’t like that I’m following my dreams?”

“You know that we do not approve of this decision and we thought that we’d give you another chance to consider things–”

“You don’t approve of it, or he doesn’t approve of it?” Your eyes snap over to your mother, nose crinkling a little like it usually does when you’re angry.

“Don’t speak to your mother like that,” your father states, the anger that’s so similar to yours in his own voice. You’re used to the feeling of the tears welling up in your eyes as you’re left in silence again. 

Sniffling softly, you avert your eyes from them. “I don’t want to speak to either of you again unless you actually are ready to listen to me,” you mumble. 

Poor Jungwon has been cooking the food this entire time, maybe taking a few bites now and then as he listened to you and your parents argue. You feel your heart soften as you see the sight of him looking so out of place. You’re sure you look the same. Tangling your fingers through your hair in an attempt to brush it out, you stand. 

“I’m ready to go, Oppa.”

Jungwon looks up at you and when his eyes meet yours, he nods in understanding. Without another word, he’s standing next to you. As you both begin walking away from the table, your parents don’t bother to try and call out to you, which only finalizes it for you. 

You don’t want this. You don’t want a life with them in it right now. Maybe, in a few more years from now, they’d be able to accept you and you wouldn’t be stubborn enough to completely ignore their words, but that time wasn’t now. All you knew was that everything you needed, you already had. That much was clear as you and Jungwon make it back to the car and as he holds you while you sob your heart out for the rest of the way home.

When you arrive back at the dorms you practically run to find Sunghoon and Jay to explain everything that had been happening concerning your family for the past few weeks–the missed birthday, the feeling of homesickness, the failed dinner, and they listen. Held between the two of them in Sunghoon’s bed you’ve never felt safer. And they don’t get angry at you for not telling them or for confiding in Jungwon, they simply show you the love that you need. They accept you for who you are, which is all you’ve ever wanted.

You fall asleep that night being held by them, exhausted from the emotional trainwreck that was your family.

The lights in your room are off as you do your best to put away laundry. 

The sun had barely begun to set outside, but you were still doing your best to try and get ready for bed considering you would have to be up and moving at a little after midnight for the beginning of the pre-recordings for the Drunk-Dazed comeback the next day. Tasks like these helped to calm your mind. They were repetitive and you could control what you were doing. Plus, there was something satisfying about getting things done. It made you feel good to be productive. 

It was like you always had to be moving nowadays anyway. If you sat still or didn’t have anything to keep your hands moving, you would have to start to think about things you didn’t want to think about. Like your parents. Like being an idol. Having doubts was scary and hearing those uncertainties from your parents only made things worse for you. Because now, you were beginning to second guess if this was the right path for you. If you were making a mistake. 

In the glow of a single bedside table salt lamp, you hang up the last of your sweaters. It would be warming up soon outside. You wouldn’t get to wear them as often which kind of upset you–

“Hey.” The familiar timbre of the voice makes your heart race as you look over your shoulder to the door. Jungwon’s standing at the entrance of your bedroom, clad in gray sweatpants and a crew neck with some kind of teddy bear on it. You offer him a closed-lip smile before you go back to finishing up with your laundry. 

“Hi.”

He takes that as a sign to come into the room, shuffling over to your bed before practically throwing himself onto the duvet. One of your Cinnamoroll plushies falls onto the floor and you send him a teasing warning glance. He only chuckles. 

“Pick him back up, please.” The boy on your bed groans, but he complies with your request, reaching for the plushie before setting it next to him against the pillows. 

“I see you’re in cleaning mode.”

You huff softly and close your closet. “It’s relaxing–”

“You’re crazy for saying that,” he pauses as you approach your bed. “Wanna clean my room next?”

Taking one of your pillows, you smack it over his head and he lets out a loud laugh, wrestling the pillow away from you. It’s hard to pretend to be annoyed with him when big eyes are looking up at you, making your heart soften in a way that comes with an emotion you’re too familiar with. One that you still aren’t ready to confront yet.

“You can’t call me crazy and then ask me to clean your room,” you mumble. Jungwon tilts his head a little, the corner of his mouth raising as you continue to grip the pillow. When he tugs it again, you’re falling on the bed next to him, laughing loudly. 

“What if I use my leader voice?”

“Then I’m not going to step in your room for the rest of the year.”

The smile on his face makes a rush of warmth go through you. “Don’t lie.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Jay-hyung shares that room with me so–”

You smack his chest gently, “Okay, enough.” The two of you laugh quietly again before the room falls into silence. Jungwon’s weight settles onto the bed next to you, moving gently and cautiously as if he’s afraid. Your eyes stay on the ceiling. He lies on his back, his body just inches away from your own, and you feel an almost electric sensation run through you. The heat of his being is so close, the scent of his skin filling your nose, and you can’t help but let out a slow, shaky breath, trying desperately to control your racing thoughts and emotions. 

He hesitates before speaking, “How are you doing?”

The feeling of being at a loss for words around him is one you’re not accustomed to. “You’re gonna have to be a little more specific than that, Oppa.” It’s like you can almost hear him roll his eyes. When you look over at him, one side of his mouth is lifted into a smirk before it drops down as soon as it appeared.

“With… you know your parents.”

“I feel…” You look back up at the ceiling. “Is it bad that it felt good to yell at them?”

Jungwon sucks in a small breath. “No. I didn’t understand much, but you should’ve done more than just yell at them.”

“Like what? Flip the table?” He laughs.

“No, I mean, not give the time of day to begin with.”

You know he’s probably right, but it was more complicated than that. Your freshly washed bedding is still a little warm under your body. “But you understand why I did.”

“Of course I do.” The weight of his eyes on you is a heavy one, but it’s one that you don’t reject. Just one that you chose to ignore. “I understand you more than you think.”

Your heart feels like it’s beginning to beat out of your chest as you swallow thickly. “Thank you for being there for me,” you pause to try to calm the swirling hurricane that is your mind. “I know you kind of have to be, but–”

“I don’t have to do anything for you,” he whispers. “I have to do things for the benefit of everyone else, but I did this for me. Because I wanted to.”

The air in your throat hitches. You don’t look over at him–you can’t. If you did, things would forever be different between the two of you.

Without words, you can tell Jungwon’s thoughts are locked on whether this is right or not: two friends lying in the same bed because yours are too. You’re in a committed relationship with two other men, two other of your bandmates, but the urge to turn and wrap your arms around him is overwhelming. Your knuckles are practically brushing against his as you restrain yourself, and you can feel him clenching and unclenching his hands at his sides with the effort to keep still. The feeling of him looking at you leaves with the sound of his head moving against one of your pillows. So you take the chance to glance at him, your eyes tracing his features, taking in the sight of his resting face just next to you in the low light.

As you both lie there in silence, the urge to touch him becomes nearly unbearable. Jungwon’s hand twitches slightly, and your fingers itch to reach out and touch his skin, but you hold back, knowing you shouldn’t. Knowing that this has already gone too far. You hear him let out a slow, shaky breath of his own, unaware of the way he’s trying to calm the storm of emotions and memories raging inside him. 

You can feel the heat of Jungwon’s skin so close to yours, and with every second it becomes harder and harder to resist the urge to touch him. Your eyes scan his face, taking in every feature, every soft detail, every little imperfection that you find beautiful. It feels like an eternity passes of just you both lying there, listening to each other’s breaths in the quiet of your room before Jungwon finally gives in. Slowly, his hand moves to lace his fingers with yours. 

These hesitances wouldn’t exist if there wasn’t something more than friendship between the two of you.

It’s without saying, you both understand each other. More than you ever had before.

And he stays with you as the sun completely sets, the room falling into darkness. You don’t remember falling asleep next to him, but when you wake up to your alarm later in the night, he’s nowhere to be found.

-

The process of a comeback show is just as (if not more) busy than Enhypen’s debut. Sleep is fought out of your mind by excitement, nervousness, and anticipation, and you can’t find the energy to feel tired. Dark coffee helps, buzzing your neurons back to life, but it also makes your jitters worse, and as you sit in the makeup chair, you have to sit on your hands to stop them from shaking. 

Your members move hastily around you in the process of getting ready as well, staff bustling with a variety of objects. You were thankful for the distraction of the makeup brush on your face. And for Sunghoon’s voice. It was rare for him to talk so freely, even to you, but he must’ve sensed your troubled emotions. You wondered if he would still act like this with you if he knew the things you were contemplating. 

Final touches of glitter are scattered under your eyes before you’re given the go-ahead to relax or do whatever you needed to before you were all needed for the pre-recording. So you stay with Sunghoon.

“I feel greedy,” you mumble quietly as you shuffle over to the couch he’s sitting on and falling into the space next to him. His face shows little emotion as he helps you place your legs over his lap.

“Is this your way of telling me you feel bad for eating the rest of my ice cream?”

“That wasn’t me and you know it.” One of his hands squeezes your thigh in a comforting manner when he doesn’t see you crack a smile at his words. 

“Then what’s going on?”

You purse your lips a little as you try to think of how to word this. “Do you think that I take up too much of everyone’s time?” His eyebrows furrow as you look over at him. “I mean like– sometimes I feel like people drop everything because I’m too dramatic.”

“You’re not dramatic,” Sunghoon pauses and his eyes never leave yours. The sight of his warm brown irises has your heart melting in your chest and you can’t fight the small smile that grows on your face. “Well. Maybe sometimes. But in a cute way, don’t worry I’m not put off by it.”

You laugh softly, smacking his shoulder gently. “I’m serious, Hoon. You would tell me if I was bothering you right?”

He grabs your hand and intertwines your fingers with his, bringing your hand closer to his face to kiss the back of your hand in a comforting manner. “I’m serious too. I help you because I love you. We don’t owe each other anything, it’s just… me–and Jay–taking care of you because we want to.” He kisses your hand again. “That’s it.”

Sunghoon’s words manage to soothe some of your worries, but like always, once those little voices in the back of your head start, it’s difficult to get rid of them. Trying to push some of the stress away for the sake of the comeback (and everyone else), you nod. 

“So no pick-me scandals?”

When Sunghoon smiles, his head tilts back a little and you get a clear view of his cute fangs. “I don’t know about that–”

“YN-ssi?” The staff that calls your name from the doorway has little emotion in her voice. All business. Just the way it should be. Resisting the urge to groan from your time with Sunghoon being interrupted, you quickly kiss him before getting up from the couch to look over at her. She’s focused on a clipboard in her hands, scanning the papers thoroughly and she speaks without even glancing at you as you approach her. 

“Do you know a Denise Aoki?”

Your eyebrows furrow as your steps falter. Confusion overpowers anything else you’d been feeling in the past few minutes. “Yes… that’s my mum.” But she wouldn’t be here, you think to yourself, standing awkwardly in the doorway. The staff doesn’t give you any sort of reaction as she looks up at you from her clipboard.

“There’s a woman here with her name requesting to see you.”

You aren’t sure what to say. Part of you doesn’t believe it. Why would your mum come to a comeback show for your group when she’d expressed her dislike for your career so recently? You were too busy to speak with her anyway. At least, that’s what you try to tell yourself as you stare blankly at the woman. 

You’re both silent for a moment before the staff member speaks up, “Do you want me to bring you to her? There’s only about an hour and a half left before you’re due on stage.”

Anxiety rushes through your bloodstream as you debate on what to do. Your family had been kept a secret from fans even with their insane stalking skills, so it wouldn’t be possible for one of them to pretend to be your mother. But why was she here then? It was something you needed to find out for yourself, so in all honesty, it wasn’t even a debate. You nod a little. 

“Just for a moment, if that’s allowed.”

The staff gives you a curt nod of her own before gesturing you to follow her. “I’ll stay with you while you both are visiting for your safety.”

“Thank you,” you say softly as you continue through the hallways of backstage M Countdown. You’re guided into a small meeting room that’s a bit out of the way from the dressing rooms and sure enough, through the door is your mother. She’s not sitting in one of the many chairs surrounding the table in the center of the room, instead, she’s standing there. Knowing your mum, she’d most likely been pacing, hands clutching onto her purse as she waited. You weren’t even sure how she could be back here–security and all. 

You eye her carefully as the staff steps into the room behind you, closing the door. “What’re you doing here?” It’s like she doesn’t know why she’s shown up either, with the way she opens her mouth and then closes it. An exasperated sigh leaves you, “Nothing to say. Can’t even make your own decisions without Dad.”

“YN,” she says weakly. A part of you doesn’t want to hear it, not after she didn’t bother sticking up for you against your father. For the past year, sure, but especially after that dinner. You knew you deserved better than that, but why did it feel like you were glued to your spot? “I’m here because I don’t agree with your father.” Surely you heard her wrong.

“What?”

“You were right,” she says so quietly that you could barely hear her. “At dinner. Everything you said. We don’t know who you are anymore and I hate myself for it.”

No way this was happening. Not now. You had more important things to do than worry about your non-existent relationship with your parents. Like the comeback stage that you were probably supposed to be prepping for right about now. “Don’t say that. Not now. It’s not fair.”

You watch as her face morphs into a pained expression. 

“Mum, you’ve had so many opportunities to try with me and you haven’t!” the cry slips from your mouth before you can stop it. “I’m done giving you chances!”

“YN, this is me trying!” This was too much. Too much to process on a day that was already stressful for different reasons. Too much with all of the other thoughts already spiraling in your head that had to do with the comeback, and the pre-stage nerves, and how Jungwon had looked at you the previous night. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes and you have to blink harshly to stop them from falling. “I’m here! I’m here, and I’m talking to you and I want to watch you perform–”

“Don’t,” you cut her off. “Not today.” She falls silent and it takes you a moment to realize that she’s actually listening to you. You clear your throat in an attempt to make the lump in it disappear. “If you really want to be a part of my life again, it can’t be today, I have too much– going on.” Your mum nods, a flicker of relief passing over her face. “You can start by calling me instead of showing up out of the blue.”

“Calling you. Okay, I can call you,” she whispers mostly to herself. 

“But this doesn’t mean that you’re forgiven, mum.”

The hope in her eyes dims a little and for a second, you notice how much your eyes have started to look like hers. Maybe not physically, but in the way you expressed emotions. “I know…” The two of you stand there silently for a moment, and you remember that there’s a staff member in the room with you. Not that it made anything more awkward than it already was. She sucks in a small breath before speaking up again, “Can I hug you?”

If you tried to talk, you would probably start crying, so you offer her a small nod. Her arms are around you before you can process it. God, was she this short the last time you hugged her? Your eyes water again at the familiar feeling of being held by her and you sniffle weakly. “Thank you for trying, Mama.”

“I’m sorry it took me so long to,” she says and a few tears escape your eyes. Her hands run over your back one more time and her arms tighten before she reluctantly lets you go. With watery eyes, you watch as she glances at the staff waiting by the door. “You should probably get going. I’ve wasted enough of your time.”

You shake your head as you dab at your eyes with the heel of your hand. A lame attempt to avoid ruining your makeup. It was probably already ruined anyway. 

“This wasn’t a waste of my time.” The staff member approaches you, carefully reaching out to take your arm.

“They need you for final touch-ups.”

You nod in acknowledgment and take one final look at your mum. Love you, she mouths softly and you needed to get out of that room before you broke down in tears. Thankfully, the staff is quick to lead you back out into the hallway. Thankfully, the space is mostly empty, with only a few stray workers bustling up and down the corridors, too focused on their tasks to pay attention to you. 

By the time you return to Enhypen’s green room, you’ve been able to pull yourself together in terms of crying. The sadness and frustration in your heart had morphed into a sour mood, and with everything moving around you at a fast pace, it didn’t take long for you to become overwhelmed with all of the sounds and bright lights and all of the hands that just wouldn’t stop touching you.

Someone was adjusting your mic pack, another was fixing your eye makeup, and there was another staff fluffing your hair. The feelings were just too much. Instantly, your eyes search for Sunghoon and Jay, but they’re occupied too. Sangmi’s going over the choreography with Sunoo and the lack of comfort you were receiving made your eyes tear up again. It’s not like you were searching for attention, but after everything that's happened with your family and your other relationships this month, you were beginning to regret not sharing your worries and struggles with more people. 

Then you would’ve had a better chance at being able to talk to someone about the unexpected appearance of your mum. Here. At your group’s comeback showcase. 

Jungwon. You needed Jungwon. 

The lace fabric of the tights you were wearing suddenly felt too itchy, the rings on your fingers too tight, the air in your lungs not enough to breathe. Shakily, you push the pair of hands adjusting your mic pack away from you. You didn’t want to be touched, it felt like too much. “Don’t touch me,” you snap. One of the staff’s eyes widens at your sudden comment, drawing her hands away to her sides. Guilt immediately consumes your stomach, but the apology gets caught in your throat as the other two workers remove their hands from you too. 

Next to you, you feel Jake’s eyes catch on you. “You okay, YN-ie?”

No, you were not okay. There were too many people in this room and there were too many thoughts and emotions in your head. 

“I can’t breathe,” you pant softly and Jake’s face enters your vision, his brown eyes filled with concern. His pink lips part and you can tell he’s trying to figure out what to say. 

“YN, what’s wrong?” He asks, hands moving to try and hold your shoulders to stop your trembling. In a panicked fashion, you push him away.

“Don’t touch me!” That came out louder than expected. 

At least some of the loud noises stop as you feel several pairs of eyes turn to you. Being the center of attention only increases your agitation. Fresh air was the only thing that could at least fix your anxiety right now. Then you would try to fix everything else. That was the only thought that helped as you rushed back into the hallway, the door slamming shut behind you. 

You don’t process the sound of the door opening again and footsteps rushing to follow you until there are hands on your arms. Your first instinct is to push the person away, but then your back meets the wall behind you, the front of a body being pressed against yours and surprisingly, the close contact isn’t overwhelming. 

“Close your eyes.” Jake’s grip on you is borderline painful, but the compression is surprisingly relaxing. Like there’s less room for something else to touch you, your anxieties suffocating as he holds you. Quickly, you close your eyes, knowing it’s probably to shield you from any bright lights.

One of his hands takes yours, pressing it against his chest. His heartbeat erupts against your palm, the rate a bit faster than normal, but the steadiness gives you something to focus on. Slowly, the panic and irritation you were feeling begin to seep away into a more relieved state. The air was coming into your lungs easily now. 

“Good. Good job,” he says softly, accent soothing to your ears. “Breathe with me for a second.” Jake’s lungs expand under your hand and you copy the action, sucking in a deep breath. He holds it for a moment before deliberately releasing it. You do the same, through your mouth, and the fogginess in your brain begins to dissipate. You take another breath along with him, eyes fluttering open to find his face close to yours. 

You can’t find it in yourself to care that your noses are almost brushing as the last of your stress calms. Silence grips you for another moment before you nod as a little signal that you’re okay.

“What’re you guys doing?” Jungwon. You’d never heard him this angry before. Hesitantly, you turn your head to look over at him. He’s followed by your manager. God, you hope he wasn’t getting in trouble with the way you’d reacted just moments ago. “The entire show is being held up because of you, YN!”

Jake’s hands tighten on your arms as he stands a little straighter, putting some distance between the two of you. “Jungwon–”

“I was gone for like two seconds,” you grumble, which probably wasn’t the best decision, but you didn’t feel like being scolded now. Especially since you’d just calmed down. “I needed air.”

Jungwon stops in front of you and Jake, and you watch as his eyes size up the way the older boy is holding onto you. His eyes harden a little, but he doesn’t say anything about how you’re practically pinned against the wall now. Jungwon’s eyes look back at you.

“The world doesn’t revolve around you, YN-ah.” Your eyebrows raise a little at his comment. Gently, you push Jake away by turning to face Jungwon, crossing your arms over your chest. “You can’t expect everyone to drop everything for you just because you’re feeling a little overwhelmed.”

You don’t miss the way his eyes flick over to Jake as he speaks. Your irritation returns tenfold. How could he say that after he’d practically spent this entire month helping you through things with your parents? After you’d trusted him over your own boyfriends to comfort you through such a personal problem?

“You didn’t have a problem dropping everything for me last night?”

“Okay–” Jake starts, only for Jungwon to cut him off.

“Because it’s like you need someone to think for you all of the time!–” A few staff passing by glance at the scene you’re putting on, but you don’t care. Your manager does though, considering the way he moves to stand between you and Jungwon.

“YN-ssi, you need to go back and apologize to the staff as soon as possible,” your manager says firmly. He’s disappointed in you. Your irritation lessens slightly, but you’re still fuming from Jungwon’s words. 

Swallowing harshly, you nod. “Fine.”

“Should stop acting so ungrateful too,” Jungwon murmurs and your head snaps over to him. 

“Jungwon-ssi–”

“No, Jungwon, go ahead,” you scoff, sidestepping your manager to look at the boy. There’s a flicker of something you can’t quite identify in his eyes. He sucks in a deep breath. 

“You’re going to Jake-hyung for comfort now, too?”

A rush of hurt goes through you. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Jungwon doesn’t say anything, lowering his eyes to the floor. A mix between a laugh and a scoff escapes you. “This isn’t even about me being ‘rude’ to the staff, it’s about me and Jake.”

Jungwon’s head snaps up to look at you. He opens his mouth to say something, only for your group to be called to the stage.

So. You might’ve had a problem with running away when things got to be upsetting for you. You just liked to blame it on the fact that you lived with eight other people and it was rare for you to get your much-needed alone time. As you’ve already established. Along with the fact that you had been doing better. You really had been getting everything back together and then the world just decided to turn against you again. 

Maybe you were just being dramatic. Or maybe, everything Jungwon said about you being ungrateful was right. 

Thankfully, the performances had gone smoothly. You’d apologized to the staff after the recordings had finished and they’d forgiven you easily, being understanding of how you were still new to the industry and therefore having hands constantly on you without warning. Everything had been patched up thanks to your manager. Except for your fight with Jungwon. Talking with Sunghoon and Jay about your mother’s unexpected visit had helped, they’d given you the comfort and love you had needed but you still felt bad about everything said between you and the leader of your group. You were mad at yourself for picking the fight with him in the first place and hurt by the things he’d said.

Being outside and by yourself helped, though. Jake had been able to sneak you out without your manager noticing. He’d claimed it was just because he was there and willing, but you knew it was because he felt guilty about what had happened between you and Jungwon. He was the only one who knew where you were, so he was the only person who could’ve told said leader about how you were taking a walk along the Han River. 

Said leader who was running towards you now. 

Letting out a small huff, you continue your pace, not that Jungwon had any trouble catching up to you. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

Jungwon pants softly. “YN please–”

“Did Jake make you come find me or did you ask him.” You refused to look at him. You’d forgone a jacket tonight, the late April air was more humid than usual which probably meant that it was going to rain soon. 

Your steps fall in time with his like it’s second nature. Out of pettiness, you slow your walk, only for Jungwon to copy the action. “I asked him,” Jungwon says. “Please, YN-ie, I feel horrible–”

“Did you actually mean the things you said earlier?” A couple walking their dog passes by you both. “Those comments weren’t just out of the blue, those were specific things. Like you’d already been thinking about them.” Jungwon doesn’t say anything as you look up at him. That’s all the answer you need. You scoff softly, “Right.”

“I was angry,” Jungwon says slowly like he’s choosing his words carefully. And he should. You felt like slapping him. “It was wrong of me to say those things and I’m sorry.”

The streetlamps lining the path shine brightly in the night, making your eyes water. Or maybe you were just going to start crying again. That’s all it felt like you did these days, cry. You were tired of it. 

“You were acting ungrateful today, but you had your reasons.” He takes a deep breath, “I don’t think you’re an ungrateful person and I’m sorry I didn’t see that you were upset.” That was a little better of an apology. “I just– I was jealous that Jake was the one comforting you.”

“I was looking for you,” you admit quietly. Another beat of silence as you both continue walking at a normal pace now. “You were the one I’d wanted in that moment. I was so overwhelmed and I couldn’t breathe, and I wanted you, but you weren’t there.”

Jungwon’s eyes meet yours and he lets out a small sigh when he sees how yours are watering. He reaches out, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side. You let him. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I’ll always be there from now on. Okay?” 

You nod, pressing your cheek against the warmth of his body. “Okay.” Sniffling softly, you speak up again. “And you have no right to be jealous. We’re not dating or anything.” His body stiffens for a split second before he relaxes again. He probably doesn’t think you notice it, but you do.

“I know.” A small raindrop lands on your cheek, but you don’t bother to wipe it away. 

“The reason I was upset was because my mum showed up at the music show.” Jungwon stiffens as he looks down at you.

“That’s allowed?” 

You smile weakly, “I guess so. But I talked to her and she said that she actually wanted to try. Unlike my dad.”

“And you’re going to let her?” You nod. Another raindrop falls. Then another. It was probably going to start pouring soon, but you didn’t mind. You didn’t want to leave this moment. Just you and Jungwon and the river.

“I don’t remember the last time I saw her make such a big decision by herself. It’s always been her following my dad.” A weak chuckle leaves your lips. “I think she really means it this time.”

The sprinkle of rain increases to a drizzle and Jungwon’s arm tightens around you, like he’s trying to shield you from the water. “I’m proud of you, YN-ie. For how you’ve dealt with them and how you’re not forgiving them just like that.”

“They don’t deserve that. Not yet,” you agree. 

Jungwon hums softly. “You can always talk to me about it. You can talk to me about anything.” The rain has steadily increased now, and Jungwon pauses in his tracks, stopping you with him. “Here,” he mumbles, pulling off his jacket and draping it over your head like your hair’s not already wet. Both of you are soaked. Your sweater and his long-sleeved shirt are sopping wet with rainwater, his hair falling over his forehead in dark brown strands. 

You stand there, chest to chest with him as you look into his eyes. They’re so pretty, the dark brown color and the sharp lines that crinkle when he smiles and laughs. “Thank you,” you whisper, leaning in closer to him and wrapping your arms around him to hug him. 

“Are we… okay?” He asks, pulling back a little to look down at you, his arms still tight around your waist and you ignore the way it makes your heart race and your skin tingle. 

The corners of your lips turn up in a tiny smile, “I forgive you, Wonnie.”

When the next morning comes, you wake up alone. Which is strange, considering you fell asleep in your bed, cuddled close with Sunghoon and Jay. 

You don’t bother pondering on it for too long, though. This is the best you’ve felt waking up in a long time. A special kind of lightness flutters in your chest. One made up of love and relief. Your relationship with Sunghoon and Jay was thriving, you’d made up with Jungwon, your mum was making an effort to be back in your life, and Enhypen’s first comeback show was successful. Today was going to be a mostly free day too, only a scheduled live and the usual practices. 

Sitting up in your bed, you stretch your arms above your head, cracking your back to get the rest of the sleep out of your spine. Going through your morning routine as usual, you slip out of bed and go straight to your bathroom. Throughout your skincare, and all of the other self-care rituals you were so fond of in the mornings, the good feeling doesn’t go away and you decide to stay in your pajamas for breakfast. 

You exit your bathroom, humming softly to yourself as you hope that everyone stayed away from the cinnamon rolls you’d bought a few days ago. Or at least, that one was left for you to have–

The sight of all eight of your members sitting in the living room startles you slightly. It’s common for the nine of you to spend the majority of your time together but it wasn’t common for them to look so serious.

Furrowing your eyebrows in confusion, you enter the living room. “Everything okay?” Heeseung shoots a glare at Jungwon, who grimaces slightly. Then, the eldest motions for you to come sit down too. “You guys are acting weird–”

“Someone saw you and Jungwon last night,” Jay says sharply, his tone harsh. “Pictures are practically everywhere you look.”

Your good mood is gone instantly, all happiness draining from your body and being replaced with a kind of jitteriness that can only be described as nervousness. Were they mad? God, of course they were mad. Sunghoon and Jay– They couldn’t be happy about this. Something like this coming out so soon after a comeback? You were going to be in so much trouble. And Jungwon. The company was going to tear you both apart for this. 

Guilt gnaws at your heart as Jake offers you a weak smile. “A dating scandal, huh,” you realize lamely. 

You were so fucked.

✉️ omg a mari post? it's been like a year, my babies, I've missed you so xx sorry if this is bad, but I'm pretty happy with it. didn't intend for it to be this long, but o well. hope you guys enjoy and I love you <3

[dancingbirdie]

Honestly I just wanted to write something Astarion x Halsin x Reader related, and this is what my brain told my fingers to tap onto the keyboard. It's sugar sweet with like one speck of chili pepper flake. Idk how to feel about it - it's not my fave I've ever written, but I also like how cutsey it is? Idk.

Feathers, Flirts, and Fiends

Rating: Teen

Pairing: Astarion x Halsin x gn!Reader

Word Count: 800

Tags: Fluff with a dash of spice at the end, humor, throuple domestic bliss, polyamory cuteness

Summary: For Astarion, it can be very taxing when your two lovers also happen to both be druids.

*****

In his dream, the bed was so disheveled that down feathers whooshed up in riotous little eddies each time he moved his limbs. Snow white, soft as petals, landing carelessly this way and that. He could feel the heat from his two lovers on either side of him, although the bed was too expansive to reach for them. 

They must have shared a rather rowdy evening together, given the abundance of freewheeling feathers that surrounded him. He couldn’t recall the details now. Curious. His eyelids slipped shut as a tuft floated down to land on his lashes. Another caressed his cheek. He smiled, content. 

But then the third arrival was less welcoming, landing just under his nose. He lifted a hand up to knock it aside, only for the feather to be replaced by another. Brows furrowed, he batted it away with a tinge more annoyance. But that one was only replaced once again. 

The barrage of feathers was beginning to tickle. He could feel a sneeze itching its way to the front of his nose. As his body instinctively inhaled to let it loose, he woke with a start. 

Well, the dream had gotten one thing right, Astarion thought to himself. 

There were indeed feathers surrounding him everywhere. It was all he could see as he peered about with bleary eyes. But they weren’t the soft down of a priceless plush pillow or mattress, no. 

They were attached to the pelts of his two lovers, you and Halsin, having shifted sometime in the night into your owlbear forms. Sandwiched between you, he felt the feathers rise and fall, sweeping up and down across his body, in time with your deep, drawn out breaths. 

“Gods damn you blasted druids,” he griped, shoving against you and the Archdruid in an effort to rouse your overlarge forms. “Wake up and shift back! Lest I succumb to death by feather asphyxiation.”

You’d awoken the moment Astarion had startled beside you, but the trickster in you considered feigning sleep just to see how long he would grouse. He could be so dramatic at times. It was darling. 

But Halsin was a kinder soul than you. You sensed him shift immediately in response to Astarion’s huffy command. Heard him murmur a sincere apology. 

“I know you’re awake, you beastie” Astarion hissed into the feathers covering your ear hole. “Your breathing’s picked up.” 

Blast. There goes any fun. 

Blinking open your enlarged eyes, you rolled them in a show of exasperation as you pulled on the tether of your magic to relinquish your wild shape. You quickly downsized to your normal elven form, curled in the same way your owlbear self had been sleeping. 

“Don’t be such a gremlin, Astarion,” you yawned, scooting closer to embrace him and Halsin, who had banded an arm across the vampire’s waist and was reaching for you to join them. “I would have thought you’d rather enjoy the warmth of two owlbear companions.”

“Oh yes, being smothered by lichen-and-moss-smelling feathers has always been a fantasy of mine,” he retorted. 

“Can vampires actually be smothered? I thought it was just wooden stakes and sunlight that did you in,” you smirked deviously. 

“You’re awful,” Astarion pouted, turning his head to rest in the crook of Halsin’s shoulder and neck. “At least Halsin showed an ounce of contrition.”

You heard the archdruid’s gravelly laugh as he kissed the top of Astarion’s head. “I’ve learned it goes a ways farther than verbally sparring with you,” he murmured into his silvery curls. 

“Quite right,” Astarion sniffed. “Much farther indeed, darling.”

Laughter bubbled forth from your own lips as you squeezed closer into his side and snaked an arm across his chest. 

“But where’s the fun in that?” you whispered. “Our verbal sparring often leads us three into some very interesting circumstances.”

At those words, Halsin reflexively clutched your waist harder. Astarion tensed before pushing back into your chest suggestively. You grinned fiendishly to yourself. Getting these two hot and bothered had become a specialty of yours lately. And you loved it.

“Tsk. You’re incorrigible,” Astarion grumbled, although his words were a bit breathier than they had been.

“Careful, lest you start something again,” Halsin warned. You couldn’t see him past Astarion’s head, but you could tell he was smiling just by his tone. “I’m not opposed to losing rest in order to see how this tête-à-tête ensues.” 

You chuckled darkly. “Noted. What say you, Astarion? Care to keep sparring?” The insinuation in your tone was clear. 

“Darling, you forget,” he murmured, one hand slipping down, behind him, to tug at the lacings of your breeches. His voice was muffled. You watched hungrily as he began to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses across the column of Halsin throat. 

“I’m always ready for a spar with you two.” 

[yandere-avatar]

Yandere! Team Korra Headcanons

Wishing my friend a happy birthday! <3 [Even though he's kind of a loser]

You met Korra first, since she was the Avatar. You were smitten with her, but thought she was out of your league, so you didn't pursue

The next person you met was Bolin and he was sweet and quick to sweep you off your feet

You slowly become part of Team Avatar. You fit in well and Bolin makes it easier for you to fit in

When learning you are not a bender, Asami is quick to teach you how to defend yourself. Besides, you're dating boys who are brothers

You become very close and anyone can see it. In fact, Bolin becomes a little jealous and you both get into a fight

"Well, maybe we should break up!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!" And then you leave, letting your words really sink into Bolin's mind. He knows he fucked up

You do eventually make up again, but you don't want to date him again

Mako didn't like you for a while, for hurting his brother's feelings, but once he spends some one on one time with you, a thought in the back of his mind appears. You were out of Bolin's league and maybe it was for the best you both broke up... Besides, he could probably treat you better anyway

He tries to get you to like him, even though he knows it's wrong

Bolin's not happy about it, but seeing you happy makes him all giddy and happy, so he let's go of his resentment. Though, he's still protective over you, so if his brother breaks your heart, he'll beat him up

Asami finds out you're dating Mako, even though you tried to hide it, because they used to date, but she seems okay with it-

Well, that's not true. You suspect she's jealous- But not because you're dating him, but because he's dating you?

She'll bring up bad things he did when she was dating him

"I just want you to have the best, because that's what you deserve and while he is my friend even after everything, I still think you deserve better"

Girl was out to ruin your relationship from the beginning

Though, Mako being Mako, he does end up fucking up the relationship on accident

He tried to apologize, but you couldn't forgive him

You found comfort in Asami, just like she wanted

You avoid dating her for a while, in fear of being a 'Homie hopper'

When you and Mako get back on better terms, you talk about it with him

He seemed okay with it, though he'd rather you be single, but he knows Asami, so you'll still be close to him, even if you date Asami

Korra was always sweet to you, but never anything that made you think she felt something special about you

You two are friends, but don't date, not until later, when she starts doubting her abilities

You're there for her and she gains an emotional attachment to you

She realizes she's in love with you, but you're dating Asami

Asami has been so good to her, just like you, so she couldn't betray Asami like that

Bolin and Korra are much more laid back and more willing to let you do as you please

You can get away with a lot more with them. Especially Bolin

Asami and Mako are stricter and restrict what you can and can't do

Mako is the strictest and you can't get anything past him

Asami wants you to like her and when realizing you get along better with Korra and Bolin, she tries to be more laid back

Though, when Korra gets hurt, you try and stay with her

She tells you no- The world needs protector, especially since she can't do it. She also doesn't want you seeing her like this. She feels weak and helpless

Korra is the only one who hides her feelings for you

The only way you find out is because she accidentally lets it slip to Asami

Asami is surprisingly open to the idea of a throuple

She knows that she can't always protect you, but Korra can. You'd always be safe if you were with Korra

They try and make you seem weaker than you are, because they all want to protect you

They know that something is wrong with them and with each other, but they find peace in that they all feel the same way for you. They love you, so who cares if other people don't understand- They do.

[cowboygideon]

Hi, please enjoy this little Challengers drabble I wrote. It's mostly a character study of Art?? I guess?? And it's essentially artrick, but if I continued it, the intention would be throuple endgame, so keep that in mind. Also, it's tragically unedited, and sentence structure means nothing to me. Anyway, here it is—!

---

After New Rochelle, it’s like a switch in Art’s brain flips. He feels Patrick’s hands on his back, the sliver of skin at his waist where his shirt rode up when he jumped, ghosting over the scars on his shoulders—and, somehow, it twists his stomach like a betrayal.

Patrick wins the match. He tries to talk to Art afterwards, chases him off the court, but Art just can’t. He can’t talk to Patrick, not after the match they just played. It’s not even about the signal, that goddamned serve, even though it should be. Really—and he doesn’t want to admit this to himself, inside his own brain, even—it’s about the fact that it’s been thirteen fucking years and playing tennis with Patrick still feels the way it did at Mark Rebellato, still lights up every synapses in his brain, still feels like really good sex, or something equally euphoric. It’s also about the fact that there’s been a hole, a giant gaping wound, in Art’s gut for over a decade, and now it feels like it's scabbing over.

It’s about the fact that Art doesn’t even care that he lost. It’s about the fact that he knows that he’d lose a thousand fucking matches, a million, if it meant getting those years back; if it meant he wouldn’t have Patrick’s hurt, confused expression outside of that room at Stanford tattooed on the back of his eyelids, burning there everytime he blinked.

Tashi finds him afterwards—he can’t hide from her, not anymore.

He tells her he’s quitting tennis.

He tells her he needs some space.

What the fuck does that mean, Art?

I—I don’t know, Tashi. I just need a second.

A second?

He leaves her, standing in the waning afternoon light, outlined in the sun like a fucking angel, wondering what he meant by a second. He wants to tell her what he meant. He doesn’t know what he meant, he realizes, and then he goes to the bathroom and vomits up his breakfast. When that meager meal is gone, he sits on the grimy tile with his head in his hands, wondering if he’d just fucked up his entire life.

---

By a second, Art meant a separation—or, at least, that’s how Tashi takes it. She doesn’t yell at him, doesn’t say anything, really, as Art packs some of his clothes into a couple suitcases. He brings his tennis gear, which Tashi also, very pointedly, says nothing about.

She follows him down stairs—a giant sweeping staircase; white, sterile, like everything else in this monster of a house, which Art has many times considered throwing himself down, bleeding out just to give the place a little color—and outside into the driveway.

She stands, their mansion at her back, arms folded across her chest, nails digging into her biceps. He wants to go to her, take her hands in his and work the tension out of them. He still loves her—so fucking much, a painful amount—but he also knows that he needs this. Tennis is Tashi is tennis. It doesn’t matter how many years stretch between now and the last time she actually played a match, Art knows the sport would never relinquish its hold on her.

And that’s perfectly fine. But if Art wants to quit, and wants to really commit to it, he can’t be falling asleep, waking up next to a constant reminder of everything he was leaving behind. After so many losses, after his blatant loss of passion, anyone would believe that this was Art Donaldson simply giving up, giving in. They’d believe it was easy for him, like he could just put down his racket and never pick it up again, and that was the end.

But he knows it isn’t going to be easy. As much as tennis has ripped him apart these past couple of years, it’s a very real, very big part of him. It’s his childhood, his college experience, his livelihood. It’s how he met Tashi, it’s why he has a beautiful daughter.

It’s how he met Patrick fucking Zweig.

“I slept with Patrick,” Tashi says, after a couple very long minutes of silence. She’s staring him right in the eyes, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, unashamed but sympathetic. “Before the final.”

Art shifts his weight onto his back foot, clutches the strap of the duffel on his shoulder. He knows, of course, but he didn’t expect her to just come out and admit it.

“And I talked to him afterwards,” Tashi continues. Now she looks away, training her gaze on the concrete. “He wants me to coach him.”

That is a surprise. Art’s heart seizes in his chest, and he feels the same way he felt after he lost the Junior Open final to Patrick and lost Tashi to him, too. Like one game had just determined his entire future. Like he’d really, truly failed.

“Are you going to do it?” Art asks. “Coach him, I mean.”

There are a couple more moments of tense silence, which is familiar. Their marriage has consisted of a lot of those silences the past couple of years, disjointed conversations mingled with stale air, pulled taut between them, like a tightrope of pain and indignation.

“I’m considering it.”

Art nods. There’s not much else to do besides that, he thinks, but he says something else anyway, not really knowing why: “You should.”

Tashi looks up from the ground, a plain shock opening up her face. It’s not often he surprises her. “Seriously?”

Art shrugs. “Why not?” There are a lot of answers to that, but he continues, “I think he has a few good years left in him.”

A beat. Tashi’s mouth pulls up at the corner, tucking a small smile into her cheek. “That’s what he said.”

Art hums. Of course he did, Art doesn’t say. Of course, even after all these years, they’d maintained some of that signature synchronization.

Tashi tells Art to pick Lily up this Friday, at around lunch time, and Art agrees. A quick, perfunctory hug that neither of them wants and he’s off, driving fifteen minutes away, further into the heart of Palm Beach, where he’s renting an obscenely expensive apartment. While he drives he thinks about how close they are to the academy he’d grown up in; Mark Rebellato sat only half an hour or so south, near Delray. With the thought comes that familiar roiling in his stomach, a painful twist of nausea so powerful he considers pulling over.

It was funny when they bought a house here—Tashi and Mark Rebellato had been slotted into very separate parts of his brain, a kind of before and after. He’d (they’d) met Tashi at the beginning of senior year, the end of August, so, really, he’d had about nine months of both Tashi and the academy mingling in his mind. But the entirety of that year had been permeated by both the thought and the absence of her, the memory and the repression of what had happened in that fucking hotel room. She and Patrick’s phone calls started to take up half of the time that he and Patrick used to dedicate to each other.

Before and After.

---

Art and Tashi are separated for six months—half a year, Jesus Christ—before he sees Patrick again.

He knows she’s training him. It’s all over the sports channel, for one thing, stories about Tashi Donaldson’s new project spliced with stories about his own retirement. It's a devastating, headache-inducing loop that he cannot bear to turn off.

He keeps playing tennis, somehow. Not as often, obviously, but just enough to keep him sane. He’d tried to go cold turkey in the beginning, spent an entire week laying on his bed in his empty apartment, dreaming about the New Rochelle match; the win in the doubles tournament; his loss to Patrick the next day. It was enough to make him consider taking a dive off the balcony.

Still, it’s nice. Eating a burger for the first time in a decade, sleeping past five-thirty, playing for fun, not to get somewhere.

Nice.

How he manages to avoid Patrick for so long, he isn’t sure. An act of God, maybe. Maybe some very intentional scheduling on Tashi’s part, maybe some subconscious effort on his own. Either way, his breath catches every single time he leads Lily up to the house, peering up and down the street for Patrick’s shitty white Honda CR-V, listening for the tell-tale sound of a ball hitting a racket out back. But there’s nothing. Six months of nothing.

It’s enough that he gets comfortable, simultaneously grateful and disappointed in the fact that he clearly isn’t meant to ever see Patrick Zweig again. He’d walked away from that part of his life: Tashi and tennis, and by extension, Patrick.

So, when he sees that familiar head of dark curls behind Tashi when she opens the door, his heart plummets, from his chest into his gut.

Tashi looks surprised to see him. “Art,” she says. “You’re early.”

Patrick is in one of the chairs in the sitting room, which is past the entryway, all the way across the room, beside the sliding glass doors that lead to the backyard. He’s so far that his head is really more a dark smudge against the bleached white of the house, but he turns around when Tashi says Art’s name.

Art checks his watch. It’s ten forty-five, he usually drops Lily off a little after eleven. “I guess,” he says.

He can hear the sounds of a bag being packed, the sound of rackets clacking against tile and clothing shifting against polyester. Then, Patrick-smudge stands up, heaves a bag-smudge onto his shoulder.

“Hi, Mommy,” Lily says.

Tashi’s shoulders, squared and tense, relax at their daughter’s voice. She smiles—uninhibited, all teeth, a smile she reserves for Lily alone—and opens her arms. “Hi, sweetie,” she says, and tucks Lily into her side in a tight hug.

When they separate, Lily turns around and hugs Art. “Bye, Daddy,” she says, muffled against his shirt.

“Bye, Lils,” Art says. He wraps his arms around her, feels his shaking hands still against her tiny shoulders, his one constant. “I love you so much, okay? I’ll see you next weekend, baby.”

Lily pulls back, an affronted look on her face. “Um, no!” she says. “My show’s on Wednesday, remember?”

He does remember. Her dance recital, he’d been looking forward to it all month. It was marked on the calendar on his fridge, a reminder on his phone.

The sight of Patrick had thrown him off more than he’d care to admit.

Art brought his hands to his mouth, a show of exaggerated remorse. “Oh, my God,” he says. He kneels in front of her and puts his hands on her shoulders. “Of course, I remember, Lils, I’ve never been this excited for anything in my life.”

She giggles, and he pulls her into another crushing hug, pressing a dozen kisses to the top of her head. “Okay, okay!” she says, pulling away.

“One more,” he says and presses a last kiss to her forehead.

“Gross, Dad,” Lily says, nose-wrinkled, but she’s smiling at him, and so is Tashi. For a moment, they aren’t living in separate houses, trading their daughter back and forth at the end of every week. For a moment, they’re a family.

Then Art stands, and looks past them. And—Patrick.

He’s smiling, too.

Lily takes her bag off the steps and slides past Tashi to head inside. She waves to Patrick as she passes him. “Hi, Patrick,” she chirps, and Art is thrown by the familiarity there.

Patrick glances at Art, so quick he almost misses it, and then waves back. “Hey, Lily,” he says. “You have fun with your dad?”

“Yeah,” she says. “We went to the zoo!”

“Awesome,” Patrick says, grinning like it really is awesome. “I’m about to head out, so I’ll see you later, kid.”

“Okay, bye, Patrick.”

Art watches them, a little bewildered, before returning his gaze to Tashi.

She talks before he can: “He’s here for training, and he stays for dinner sometimes,” she says. “That’s it.”

Art thinks this is her way of telling him that she’s not sleeping with Patrick, but it's hard to say. Not that he could object, exactly. He’s the one who asked for a second.

Patrick-smudge becomes a full-fledged Patrick as he approaches them in the doorway. There’s this stupid fucking sheepish look on his face, like a kid who’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar—which, on anyone else, would look just that: fucking stupid; but on Patrick is irritatingly endearing. Art remembers Patrick was always good at that, at making his bad qualities look like good ones.

Regardless, it doesn’t lend much credence to Tashi’s proclamation that she and Patrick aren’t fucking, but Art attempts to suspend judgement. If they are, he thinks, he can’t blame her. Not really. Not when Patrick looks—well.

Back in New Rochelle, he and Tashi had caught a split-second of one of Patrick’s matches, his third or fourth, maybe, not long after the tournament started. As they headed back to the hotel, Tashi had talked at Art about how terrible Patrick looked, with the scruff and the track marks and the general air of a stray dog that’d wandered onto a tennis court.

Art hadn’t contributed much to that conversation, for the simple fact that he didn’t entirely agree with her. Later, in the sauna, his suspicion was only further proven: Patrick Zweig, thirty years old, living out of his car, maybe addicted to drugs, still looked really fucking good. The universe was truly cruel.

Crueler still is the fact that now, under Tashi’s care, with a workout regime and a real bed, he looks impossibly better.

So, yeah, if Tashi is fucking him, Art won’t—can’t—blame her. Patrick has that effect.

Patrick hovers around Tashi’s shoulder in the doorway, staring at Art. Art deliberately does not stare back.

“Tomorrow,” Tashi says. “Six a.m. Don’t be late, Zweig.”

She says Zwieg like people usually do, pronouncing it with the w sound, instead of like a v. Art used to correct people when they were kids. He doesn’t now.

Patrick salutes. “Yes, Coach.”

“I’m fucking serious, Patrick,” she says, casting a glare over her shoulder.

Patrick throws his hands up. “So am I, Tashi! When am I not serious?”

Art has to look up at that, out of habit, leveling Patrick with a glare that used to say you’re being such an idiot, and they make eye contact. Patrick grins. Art doesn’t.

“Art,” Tashi says, voice softer. “I’ll see you Wednesday, okay?”

“Yeah,” Art says. He doesn’t want to watch the two of them say goodbye, deal with the fanfare that a goodbye entails, so he turns and starts down the driveway. He can hear them talking as he walks, and then a door shutting. Then there’s the sound of slides scuffing against concrete.

“Hey, man, wait up,” Patrick says.

Art hesitates, mid-step, and is reminded of Patrick following him after winning the challenger.

“Art, man, come on,” he says. “Just talk to me for a second.”

Art stops. Turns around.

Patrick is wearing one of his stupid muscle-tees, a pair of his even stupider mid-thigh length gym shorts. So, to put it plainly, he looks fucking stupid. He also looks so Patrick that Art swallows.

“What?” Art says.

There’s a smile on Patrick’s face, as there usually is, but it’s not as sure as Art remembers it. His eyebrows are pushed together, his grin failing a bit at the corners. He looks hesitant, cautious, which are both decidedly not patented Patrick emotions. “Uh,” he says, like now that he has Art, he doesn’t know what to do with him. “I just wanted to, I don’t know. Say hi. I guess.”

Some of the anger simmering in Art’s gut fizzles out—he can’t help it. “Hey,” he says quietly.

“Hi,” Patrick returns. His smile regains some sincerity and he drags his eyes over Art, appraising him. “You look good.”

Art huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, you, too, dude.”

“That’s what having a mattress will do for you.”

He says it jokingly, but at the same time it's a reminder—of Patrick’s years spent without him, of Art’s spent without Patrick, of the fact that Patrick was living out of his fucking car and doing drugs which is still an idea that Art can’t wrap his head around.

They stare at each other for a moment.

Then Patrick says, hooking his thumb over his shoulder, “I still can’t believe you had a kid, man.”

It’s not what Art’s expecting him to say, treading over another reminder of their separation, but Art hums and nods anyway. He isn’t sure how else to respond. There are some thoughts swirling around in his head, prospective replies piled up beside things he would never fucking say under any circumstances, the loudest of which is: I still can’t believe I had a kid without you, which Art understands is a very odd thing to think, so he mentally scratches it out and replaces it with: I still can’t believe I had a kid and you weren’t there, which he also understands is only marginally better.

Art casts a look around, checking the driveway and the street, and finds only his car parked up by the garage.

Patrick says immediately, like he’s reading Art’s mind, “Tashi picked me up today. My car’s in the shop, its—”

“Shitty, yeah,” Art finishes.

Patrick hesitates a split-second before laughing. “Yeah, it is,” he says. “I’m just going to get an Uber back to my apartment.”

Some deep-rooted urge to take care of Patrick, fostered by six years of living out Patrick’s pocket and Patrick living out of his, of pushing their beds together and operating in complete synchrony, compels him to say, “I can take you.” He pauses, then adds, “If you want.”

“Oh,” Patrick says. His eyebrows have shot up to his hairline, and he’s momentarily stunned into silence. Another unfamiliar occurrence. “Uh, yeah. I mean, yeah, if you don’t mind. Thanks, Art.”

tbc.

[hazelfoureyes]

Will you do more tidbits for The Safe Word Is Radioapple? I love the little bits of cuteness and plot in between! P.S. I love the way you write! It sweeps me completely into the story you’re telling and I only ever come back to reality when the fic ends! 🥹

Yes! I needed a break but I’m itching to return to our messy, fun, confused little throuple. I’ll probably return to it with a tidbit to get my sea-legs back. Hearing my work is immersive for you means a lot, it makes me feel really accomplished 😭

Referencing

⟢Lucifer x Reader x Alastor - The Safeword is RadioApple smut💦

Alastor would give you anything, all you had to do was ask. When you asked for Lucifer, he delivered. But after seeing just how much you enjoyed Alastor’s rough handling, Lucifer takes a turn and gets a little lost in the pleasure.

Part 1 ꒰აMaleReader✧FemaleReader໒꒱ Part 2 ꒰აFemaleReader໒꒱ Part 3 ꒰აAlastorxLucifer໒꒱ tidbit (cute, not smut) Part 4 ꒰აFemaleReader໒꒱ ₊⊹⁀➴ Lucifer wins⟡Alastor Wins

[artdcnaldson]

ohh noo cat you actually can’t do this to me… :/ pitcher art would most definitely chew gum to focus/keep his mouth occupied and batter patrick would eat sunflower seeds and somehow manage to catch your eye in the crowd as he spits them out OUGGH

what appears to be normal baseball signals relayed between them are actually broken up by secret codes that only the three of you know. like patrick stroking his cheek means art is going to sub that night or something 🤭🤭 and you have to act so normal in the stands even though you can feel your panties getting soaked with anticipation :(

pitcher art chewing gummmm 🥰🥰🥰🥰 and patrick spitting shells out onto the dirt is so hot to me uhhuhhgghhhhh

I need them both openly flirting with you from the field, and confusing the FUCK out of people in the process. One week it’s so obvious you’re Art’s girlfriend, you’re wearing a fucking Donaldson jersey, but then you’re kissing Patrick all messy outside a bar after the game??? But then there’s Art pulling you into a kiss from over the dugout after they sweep their opponent in the series ??? What the fuck???

Just messy public throuple dynamics that confuse everyone so bad!!! #needthat

[kindigo]

I’m throughly Team Throuple but the idea that Tarvek is Agatha’s boyfriend-in-law is sending me

Agatha Heterodyne, Gilgamesh Wulfenbach, and Tarvek Sturmvoraus (Girl Genius)

[astonmartingf]

you know what energy fernando alonso is giving? homewrecker energy. imagine dating mark webber or like jenson button, it doesn't matter because fernando alonso will come sweeping in, and it ends in a throuple? huh? do you see the vision?

[yanderecrazysie]

this request might be a little weird but yandere!bokuto x quiet!reader x yandere!akaashi where reader like to listen to music, coffee shops (yet proceeds to get tea or hot chocolate there), mangas, and dresses. could there be some fear in this too like the fear of the ocean and easily gets homesick.

also i love your writing its amazing and take as much time w this as you need🤍

- anon🥂💍

This sounds awesome- not weird at all! And thank you so much, you’re so kind to me! >3<

Title: Routine

Pairings: Akaashi Keiji x Reader; Bokuto Koutarou x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, reader has thalassophobia 

Summary: Akaashi and Bokuto have picked out the perfect place for you to live. Too bad you don’t agree…

routine

/noun/

a sequence of actions regularly followed.

You were a creature of habit.

You went to work and left when your shift was over. You visited a coffee place before and after work, but you never got coffee there. On Saturdays and Sundays, you spent a good chunk of your time there too, sipping away at a hot chocolate while music blared through your earbuds and you settled into your latest manga.

You also spent a lot of time at home, often doing the same things as you did at the coffee shop. Playing music while you cleaned and cooked, and curling up on the couch to read your manga. You were a homebody, but you enjoyed your time outside too.

You went shopping on Sundays and ate out on Saturdays. A little treat for how hard you worked during the week, no doubt. You got gas the moment your car started getting low and you cleaned frequently.

You liked to wear dresses and makeup, but not too much. Your dresses were nothing too fancy, almost casual and your makeup was light and natural.

You were fond of routines and anyone who knew yours could find you easily.

Stalk you easily.

Seriously, you made it way too easy for two people in particular to follow you around and watch you. Learn all the things that made you you. They knew everything mentioned and more.

Akaashi and Bokuto were best friends and shared many of the same interests- the most intense of which included you. They loved you deeply, but they didn’t know how to approach you with an offer like “date both of us, please”. It just wouldn’t work out.

Bokuto would overwhelm you, Akaashi was sure of that. And Akaashi would underwhelm you, as Bokuto liked to say. They were the unlikeliest of friends and even more so, potential romantic partners. There was no way you’d fall for either of them, much less both.

So they followed you. 

At first, they had convinced themselves that, if they just got to know you, they could woo you easily. Pretend to have all the same interests and bam! You’d be one happy throuple. 

They could claim to like all the mangas they’d seen you read. Claim to love that cozy little coffee shop where they, too, get hot chocolate. Claim to have the same taste in music.

But wouldn’t that be creepy? They realized that too. Akaashi could be subtle, sure, but Bokuto was not a good actor by any means. Too eager to please, they both knew too well.

Their minds turned to kidnapping a little too quickly. But, after all, they were stalking you. It was the logical next step for them both.

It’d be easy to sweep you away, considering how strictly you followed your routine and the fact that you lived alone. But there was the worry that they would have to keep you locked up, constantly worrying about being put behind bars and keeping you from becoming depressed.

They had an idea or, rather, Akaashi had an idea and Bokuto agreed. It was an awful, cruel idea.

But to them, it was a necessary one.

When you next woke up, you’d be in an unfamiliar bedroom in an equally strange house with even stranger men. You’d be frightened, sure, but you’d soon find it was easy to escape. They wouldn’t stand for keeping you locked or chained up, after all. 

While escaping their house was easy, escaping their small private island was not.

When you stared at the vast ocean, face drained of all blood, and swaying unsteadily, you end up looking back at the two men who casually followed you outside, wondering if they knew that you were deathly afraid of the ocean. That you’d never dare try to cross it or so much as wade your toes in it.

Only to be met with smug, knowing grins.

[thebawdybaldurian]

Halsin/Tav Week Day 1

This week of prompts comes at a great time, as my Tav and Halsin have been separated for a few chapters in my main fic and are just about to be reunited. I’m excited to get back to writing about by favorite bear. This is an edited excerpt from the next chapter I am working on. I’ve left out some of the Astarion-involved beats, just in case that isn’t your jam, but they are a throuple in my main fic.

Most of my Halsin shorts involve scent kink, so feel free to check those out in my archive, they will all be tagged with #Halsin.

Reunited (Scent Kink)

Content and Warnings: scent kink, oral sex, PIV sex (slightly rough), squirting, creampie.

Halsin Dry Humping Chapter

Halsin had been occupying his time at the inn reading, teaching the tiefling orphans some useful skills, and playing with Scratch and Hootles, the owlbear cub. He’d been trying to keep his mind off Tav while she was at Moonrise Towers, but was having a difficult go of it. He swore he could smell her scent one day, so he lingered by the bridge that led to the inn, hoping for any signs of the party returning. By mid-afternoon, between the cooking fires and heavy fog creeping in, the air was too clouded pick up much of anything else. He gave up waiting with a disappointed sigh and shifted to his owlbear form to run around with the animals. He had no smell in this form and nearly missed Tav’s arrival, but saw a clamor of people heading towards the lake. He shifted back to his elven form to ask what was happening. “A boat has been spotted on the lake, coming towards us,” one of the Harpers replied, taking up her sword.

“Foes or allies?”

“We don’t know,” the woman called as she ran towards the small docks.

Halsin sniffed the air, hoping to discover which. He caught Tav’s scent again, much stronger this time. It made him so excited, he involuntarily shifted to his bear form, bounding towards the lake. He chuffed the air as he ran, catching more of her smell as they drew closer together. He could smell others among her, unwashed and afraid, but he focused solely on her trail. Harpers and armed tieflings had stationed themselves on and around the small dock, who he narrowly avoided running into. There were a few screams and shouts as he ran past people, an excited growl rumbling in his throat.

Tav heard the commotion before she saw it, just off the boat and starting to help others off onto the dock. A large brown bear scrambled around the corner, letting out a happy bellow as their eyes met. Halsin shifted back right as he came upon her, taking her in his arms and sweeping her off her feet. “I’ve been smelling you all day. I thought I was going mad,” Halsin kissed her greedily, gripping her ass tightly. Tav kissed him deeply in return, the comfort of his sturdy arms making her melt. He’d managed to grow a slight beard in the short time they were apart, nearly rivaling Gale’s.

“We’d been doing circles in the lake half the day because of the fog before we finally spotted the Inn…I’ve missed you so much,” she murmured between kisses, brushing her fingers against the soft bristles on his face.

“I counted the seconds we were apart,” he finally set her down with a happy smile.

“How many was it?” She gazed up at him, still held tightly in his arms.

“Far too many,” he replied.

There were other happy reunions between couples, though none as public and passionate as theirs had been. Halsin pounced on Tav as soon as they’d gotten up to their room. “Wait,” Tav moaned as Halsin reached down to undo her pants. “You should hear the news first…good and bad.”

“Alright,” he nodded, his fingers still hooked impatiently under her waistband.

“Thorm has sent us to retrieve the Nightsong, so we know exactly where it is. And if he wants it, it must certainly be connected with the curse, right?”

“Not necessarily, but keeping it out of his hands will be a great benefit regardless. And the bad news?”

“Uhmmm, Minthara…the drow who held you captive…she survived somehow and made her way to Moonrise. Where they promptly imprisoned her.”

“Good,” Halsin nodded. “She’s very dangerous.”

“Except,” Tav paused, biting her lip. “I helped get her out…and she’s returning with the others on foot.”

“I see,” he nodded again, his expression remaining neutral. “And why did you do such a thing?”

“With the cult turning on her so quickly, she wants revenge. Now that she’s near the prism, she won’t be influenced by the Absolute anymore. She can provide us with useful information.”

“And you will trust what she has to say?”

“I’m not saying we let her have free rein at camp or even keep her alive after getting information out of her but…the cultists are planning to march on Baldur’s Gate. I know you have no love for the city, but it is my home. We need to find out everything we can.”

He nodded and smiled slightly, letting his fingers move up to rub along her hips. “I may not ever trust her, but I trust you…with all my heart.”

He kissed Tav deeply again, pulling her into another tight embrace. “Damn,” she pulled away with a heavy breath, his growing arousal pressing against her stomach. “I was kind of hoping you’d be mad at me…be a little rough and feral.”

He laughed, giving her ass a tight squeeze. “You only have to ask me for that.”

He picked up her hips with ease, carrying her and setting her down on the nearby dresser with a thud. He tore open the laces of her pants, breaking them in several places. He pulled her pants and underclothes down forcefully, leaving them around her ankles as he dove face first into her cunt. “Oh!” She cried as his tongue went straight between her lips, snaking inside her a little. She managed to kick off her pants and shoes completely as he ravenously licked and sucked upon her. He pulled one of her legs over his shoulder, giving him deeper access for his tongue to reach.

He was even more hungry than their first time together, barely taking a breath and leaving no spot on her delta untouched. She could barely contain her cries, holding onto the dresser as it rocked back and forth from his vigorous tasting. “Gods…Halsin! Oh!” She moaned, coming quickly from the long, forceful sucks on her clit. He didn’t stop there, however, adding his fingers to beckon more honey into his mouth.

She was hanging onto the edge of the dresser now, with both legs wrapped around his head. His beard tickled as he nuzzled against her, nibbling her between licks. He left teeth marks in her thighs, completely frenzied by her taste. “Fuck! Oh! Don’t stop!” She came again as he flicked his tongue inside her, the bridge of his nose pressed hard against her clit.

“Another?” He breathed hot against her sex, his hungry gaze catching hers. He could stay like this for hours if she wished it.

“Inside me, please,” she begged, leaning back against the dresser. He nodded, taking one last agonizing lick from her asshole up to her clit.

She untangled her legs from his shoulders and put them on the floor, waiting for him to undo his pants, slipping her shirt over her head. “You are more beautiful than my memories could recall,” he looked up at her as he unlaced himself, his cock springing free easily.

“I could barely sleep without you beside me,” she sunk down, letting him help guide her hips. “Fuck!” Her legs trembled as he eased just past her entrance. “Have you somehow gotten bigger?”

“Just more excited to see you,” he moaned, slipping further inside her. “I woke up throbbing every morning…but waited for you.”

“You did?” She huffed, slowing moving up and down his thick shaft.

“You asked me to,” he let out a slow sigh as he slid deeper inside her.

“Would you do anything that I asked you to?” She whimpered, circling her hips around him once she’d finally engulfed him to the base of his cock.

“Yes,” he whispered.

“Then fuck me harder than you ever have before,” she looked him directly in the eyes, pulsing her muscles around him.

He gripped her hips tightly, moving her to the floor and pressing on top of her. She slid his pants past his hips, gripping his ass tightly. “Yes…just like this, my bear,” she moaned as he pushed her legs back against her chest, testing her flexibility. They sat on his shoulders as he pounded her hard in a full mating press, letting out low growls with each deep thrust. Her eyes rolled back as each thrust nudged against her g-spot, making her breath sharper.

“I need you,” he snarled, truly letting himself go as he fucked her harder.

She gripped his arms tightly, feeling the urgent, powerful sensation that she had yet to experience with him. “Oh Gods…fuck…fuck…fuck!” She screamed, forgetting all about the thin walls of the inn. Fluid rushed out around his cock, soaking the floor as she began to squirt. She shook so hard he thought for a moment that he might have hurt her, beginning to slow down. “No…please,” she begged, gripping his arms tighter, knowing there was more to come. “Don’t stop…come in me…right now.”

“Clataedre…my love,” he mewled her elven name, never feeling more desperate to come than in this moment.

He pressed his forehead against hers, pounding her with a few more thrusts before spending nearly a tenday of unfulfilled desire into her gushing canal. Their cries joined in harmonic ecstasy, echoing through the entire inn again. Lae’zel had wisely moved rooms before they’d left for Moonrise and the unfortunate tiefling couple who was now roomed next door went downstairs to make their own inquiry about switching. The two elves cooed and laughed as they caught their breath, lying together in the wet pool of their lovemaking. “Sorry,” she grinned as his knee slipped in their shared ejaculate.

“Don’t be,” he smiled, falling to one side of her and pulling her close. “I…haven’t been able to experience that with someone for a very long time.”

“It doesn’t happen a lot…but when it does…it’s a deluge.”

“One of nature’s wonders,” he nuzzled against her. “Do you…enjoy when I am…a little less gentle with you?”

“I like when you don’t hold back at all. I know that you would never hurt me,” she nodded, rasping her finger against his beard. It was still short enough that she would have a little bit of irritation on her thighs, but it was well worth it. “You are incredible.”

“You are all I’ve ever wanted,” he nuzzled down to her armpit, taking in more of her scent.

“That tickles,” she giggled, his nose and lips brushing against the delicate skin.

“Then it is unfortunate that you smell so good,” he continued to kiss and nibble her under arms, making her squeal.

[impel-clown]

Cross Guild throuple prompt: AU with some Game of Thrones fusion. Buggy's evil guardian arranges for him to be married to not one but two fearsome warlords, Crocodile and Mihawk. Buggy is beside himself with terror, and when he actually meets his intended husbands it is a tense standoff where they don't say anything to him. When the wedding day comes, Buggy's terror only grows when he has to sail off with his new husbands for their island strong hold. However, terror becomes confusion when neither Crocodile or Mihawk actually do anything to him. In fact, they basically ignore him. Suddenly Buggy is super offended because he knows he's a catch. How's he gonna go about getting some answers out of his husbands and how are they gonna actually figure out actually being married before they are even in love?

Thank you so much for the prompt! What I originally thought up a few months ago as maybe a three chapter fic has turned into a fourteen chapter fic that I am so excited to share! First chapter should be posted next Sunday, but until then, here's a little snippet:

~~~

“So who are these men? Don’t think I haven’t noticed how coy you’ve been with the details. So come on now,” Buggy leans forward in his chair, plainly ignoring his father’s warnings to remove his elbows from the table. “Who are they?”

“Well,” his mother begins not meeting his eye. “The two of them are already wed to the other, though I am of the mind to see this as a boon rather than bane. Hopefully it indicates a solid foundation into which you will be entering. What else? Oh, one was once a knight. Isn’t that nice? I remember how you used to run around the halls swearing to anyone who would listen that one day your knight in shining armor would come and sweep you off your feet, seems that you were right.”

Buggy cannot help the red that rises to the heights of his cheeks. “Mother,” he hisses, glancing back to where his own knights thankfully have kept a straight face. “Please. Just- Who will I be marrying?”

“The other is an avid swordsman,” she continues as if she hadn’t heard him. “In fact he-”

Before his mother can continue dawdling, Buggy’s father finally looks up from his reports to interrupt. “You’re to marry Dracule Mihawk and Sir Crocodile. That is final.”

~~~

[thiquefunlover63]

You are at a xmas office party and you drink a little too much to drive home. Who is taking care of you? And who is jealous they didnt get to your first?

Oooooo this is a good one, because ya girl likes cocktails and those can take you down if you are not careful LOL

Taking care of me: I gotta go with my #1 CE! babe Steve Rogers! We could of had the same amount of drinks and they do not phase him one bit. He is just drinking them to be festive. With me, I am a bit louder, goofier (than I already am), and just a teeny be hornier (thanks increased sex drive) because my anxiety levels are down and I am feeling FREEEEEEEE!!! Steve sees me and laughs a little until a creepy & persistent co-worker tries to swoop in to shoot his shot with me. Steve looks more intently & with increased concern as I emphatically tell him HELL NAW, but he obviously does not take the hint. Steve walks fast towards me while being in Captain America mode and tell the co-worker to leave me alone. The co-worker does not listen to him, says something rude about me being drunk and that is when Steve slick loses it on ol' dude. He hems him up against the wall with his warm marble of an arm and says quietly & through gritted teeth, "The lady said no." The bi***-a$$ co-worker scurries off. I tell Steve a genuine Thank You, along with giving him a hug. That was kinda a mistake because, Clean up, aisle my panties! (thanks Gretchen from Bob's Burgers). Steve holds on to the hug a little longer than usual and offers to safely drive me home. After he does a little sweep of my house to make sure I am safe, because he still is kinda in Captain America mode, we say our good-byes. My drunkenness has decreased but I am still pretty bold in gently grabbing his arm (as sparks fly between us) and asking him to stay and...HE DOES!! Well you can imagine what happens next...😈❤️‍🔥😈❤️‍🔥Ya'll will deal the with consequences tomorrow. Tonight, he is all yours!!!

Jealous about not getting to me first: Surprisingly, I am going to go with Colin Shea. He may be a hoe (no judgies) on the outside, but while at work and around (sober) me he is a complete teddy bear. He's liked me for a while and plays it cool b/c we work together and he does not to make me feel uncomfortable at our workplace. Instead he finds random ways to get near me & talk to me about anything. Me, being oblivious, just sees him as being a kind & sweet co-worker. At the Christmas party, he also sees the same creepy & persistent co-worker trying to get me with me and make his way there to defend me, but he is too late as he sees Steve make it before him. Colin internally admits defeat because it is Steve friggin' Rogers and he knows he cannot compete. He evens likes the guy as a person & co-worker, he just knows he cannot match him, no matter how chivalrous he looks. Colin resigns to his fate and continues in the revelry. In that, he make a promise to tell his true feelings to you before the office shuts down for holidays.

Now, I know dating co-workers can be a bad idea and I would agree. In my fantasy world, I would have both of them, we would be in a throuple, with no job consequences because I deserve my cake and to eat it too! It's Steve Rogers & Colin Shea, come on!!

So how did I did I do @queenoftheworldisdead? 😁