#That was the longest text I've ever written here.

[bahablastplz]

Make it hurt: Seungmin x Reader x Jeongin

Your best friend is a menace. A stupid, kinky menace that drags you along to a BDSM event with her when your curiosity gets the best of you. What will happen when a strangely attractive man asks you if you want to do your first scene with him and his friend? Content: smut smut smut smut smut Warnings: Talks of BDSM, use of ‘sir,’ traffic light system, dom/sub dynamics (dom Seungmin, dom Jeongin, sub reader), sensory deprivation, sensory play, fingering, choking, spanking (with a paddle), hair pulling, p in v sex, protected sex, edging, slight overstimulation, little bit of praise, little bit of degradation if you squint, lots of aftercare WC: 5900 (this is the longest smut I've ever written byeee)

Your friend is a menace. Well, that is a given. You’ve always known Lily, your best friend and roommate, to be somewhat unhinged. But now, given the circumstances you’re currently in… it was more apparent than usual. 

She was involved in the BDSM community. It was something that she had started getting involved in with her boyfriend and so you were privy to hearing about some of her more… intimate experiences. She talked about what it was like being a submissive in a relationship, relinquishing any and all control to that of her dominant, coupled with sensory play, pain play, you name it. 

When you expressed some interest in learning more about the BDSM community she was thrilled. 

Let’s just say some of your past sexual experiences were… vanilla, for lack of a better term. While you’ve encouraged some of your previous partners to take charge or to be a little bit rougher in the bedroom, they would indulge but they never truly seemed into it. The one time a hookup agreed to choke you, however, you came harder than you ever had in your life. 

When you told this to Lily, she told you that you just had to come to an event with her and her boyfriend. You weren’t too sure how you felt about this at first. Wouldn’t you just be third wheeling? She assured you that these BDSM events were a safespace for everybody of all experience levels to enjoy kink and that you would be fine to go off on your own if you needed to. 

That’s how you ended up here. Just as you predicted, Lily and her boyfriend disappear the second you enter the venue, leaving you alone. Upon entry, you are given a pink wristband to show others that you’re new to the BDSM community and ‘open to learning more.’ You also pick out pins to display on your shirt, so you choose one that that says ‘submissive,’ and ‘pain slut.’ The latter you had grabbed just because you thought it was funny, but hey, if you’re here to learn more about kink then that’s what you’re going to do. 

The event has a lot of different seminars to sit in on as well as vendors that sell a variety of sex toys or items for BDSM. You look at some of the silk ties and ropes they have for bondage and rope play, body-safe wax for temperature play, paddles and floggers for impact play, and even some lubes and sex toys that you have never seen before. You don’t buy anything, but you grab a lot of flyers and giveaway items that you put in a small bag to take home with you. 

You also attend a seminar about kink for beginners and what green flags to look for in a dom/sub. Overall it is a very education-filled evening and you find yourself a little intimidated but also a little aroused. You know for sure by the end of the evening that this community is something that you want to continue to explore. 

Sitting down at a table by yourself, you let out a loud sigh. You riffle through some of your pamphlets and check your phone to see if Lily texted you. "We're going to set up a scene in one of the play rooms!! Talk to you later! Xoxo.” She sent that text message 15 minutes ago, which means you would probably be stuck here a while longer. You let out a loud sigh again. 

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?” You look up and your heart skips a beat when you see one of the most attractive men you’ve ever seen in your entire life. 

He has shoulder-length strawberry blonde hair, shaggy but perfectly placed as it frames the front of his face. You notice his plump pink lips and sculpted face before you meet his dark eyes that give him an appearance not unlike that of a fox. Beautiful. 

You realize that you haven’t responded to the man before you shake the thoughts out of your head and give him a smile. 

“Yes! I mean, no no, it’s not taken. Feel free to sit!” You laugh at your own awkwardness and gesture to the chair to your left. Scanning over the man’s frame once again, you notice he’s wearing a denim coat over a nice white dress-shirt. He also has a pin on that says ‘dominant.’ Interesting. 

“Are you okay?” He questions, tilting his head to the side inquisitively after sitting down. 

“Huh?” 

“Oh, I was just curious if you’re okay. I noticed that you were sitting alone and you were sighing, so I just wanted to make sure–” 

“Oh! That’s so sweet of you! My friend kind of dragged me along with her when I told her that I was interested but um… yeah, she kind of ditched me as soon as we got here.” You run a hand through your hair and let out a breath that you had been holding. “I mean, I’m having a good time and all! But I just didn’t want my first time here to be alone, you know?” 

“I’m sorry your friend ditched you,” he says sympathetically. “If it’s any consolation, it’s my first time here, too!” He holds up his wrist to show you a matching pink wristband. The action makes you smile. 

“Are you here alone?” You question. “I’m just curious, you know, if this is something that a lot of beginners usually attend by themselves or if most people come here with a friend.” 

“Oh no no,” he laughs. You think that his smile is cute and you can’t help it when you feel yourself warm up and get more comfortable just by his presence. “I’m here with my friend. He is a lot more experienced in being a dom, he’s been involved in the community for a few years and he told me he would show me around,” he explains. 

“I see! Are you… Do you like it so far?” You try not to get shy, but to be fair this man is so unbelievably attractive. 

“I do! It’s very educational. I can see myself trying to get more involved, hopefully. What about you? You’re not uncomfortable, are you? I know it must be a lot to be here by yourself since your friend left you here.” You think it’s so sweet that this guy is checking in on you so thoroughly. 

“Oh, I’m fine!” You say with a big grin. “It’s been so cool so far! I definitely think I want to get more involved too. While it’s a little intimidating… it’s like… it makes me want to try it, you know? I definitely don’t want to go back to plain old vanilla sex after this, I think.” He laughs with you in understanding. 

“My name’s Jeongin, by the way,” he says. “You are…” 

“Y/N,” you provide. 

He repeats your name, committing it to memory. “Listen, I know we’re both new at this, so don’t feel pressured at all… but would you be interested in setting up a scene with me and my friend? His name is Seungmin, he’ll be here in a few minutes if you’d like to meet him. But, he told me he would be there for my first scene, to walk me through it and make sure that everything goes right… And I don’t know if that would make you more comfortable for your first time to also have someone that is experienced… Shit, I don’t even know if you’re interested at all, and it doesn’t even have to happen right away or anything, and, um, he would be better at explaining it, but we could talk about boundaries and–” 

“It’s okay, Jeongin,” you say. “I think I’m interested, actually.” He seems to perk up, as if surprised at your words. “Really?” 

“Yeah! I think so. I’m a little nervous, admittedly. But… Do you think I could meet your friend first? Maybe if we talk it over a little more, I’ll feel better.” 

“Of course!” He smiles, pulling out his phone. “He’ll be here in one minute.” 

You don’t know why you’re surprised, but his friend Seungmin is also ridiculously attractive. He has long black hair, slightly shorter than Jeongin’s that falls around chin-length. He has bright eyes and a wide smile, almost innocently so, and he doesn’t strike you right away as someone that is an experienced dom that has been in the community for a while. He’s clear and concise when he speaks, though, setting clear boundaries with a politeness that makes you want to trust him implicitly. 

The three of you talk for almost thirty minutes, surprisingly. Seungmin provides you and Jeongin with little kink surveys, which you think is almost endearing, but it helps you determine your sexual compatibility and any hard limits you have for the scene. He also talks you through protection, safewords, and the traffic light system, which you all determine will be your preferred method of communicating any hard or soft limits for the night.

You even spill the fact that you’ve been completely dissatisfied with previous partners, none of them pleasing you sexually and allowing you to completely let go the way you’ve been wanting. They nod along and you feel very comfortable sharing your experiences with them which you think is probably a green flag.

“Am I going to be having sex with the both of you?” You ask. You let out a nervous chuckle with the question, avoiding eye contact slightly but not trying to appear uncomfortable or shy about the topic. 

“Do you want to?” Seungmin asks, turning the question back to you. “You need to let us know whatever you’re comfortable with, Y/N.” 

“I think I want to.” 

“Well, consent can be revoked at any point. If you decide you want to now but change your mind during the scene, that’s fine! You just need to communicate with us,” he explains. “Because this is your first scene, you should know that we don’t even have to have sex at all. Not all scenes have to involve sex. There’s plenty of other ways for everyone to have pleasure.” Something about the way he talks like he knows exactly what he’s talking about, so educated on the topic but also cautious to establish boundaries and make the whole process safe is so attractive to you. You hide a blush and look him in the eyes this time. 

“I understand that we don’t have to. But… if you both are okay with it, I think I would like sex to be a part of the scene. Definitely with Jeongin,” you say. “But also with you, Seungmin, if you’re comfortable with that.” 

“You’re doing a great job using your words!” He praises. This time you don’t conceal your blush. He takes note of that. “I think we’re pretty much set for now. Let us know if you have any questions!”

And with that, you set up a time and a place for the scene and exchange contact information before you all part ways. You find yourself exhilarated that this has just happened, but mostly you’re giddy. You’re going to do a scene. And with everything you talked about and communicated that you’re looking for, you have a feeling that it definitely won’t be a boring sexual experience. 

When Lily and her boyfriend finally find you upstairs you’re more than ready to go home. She wants to grill you about everything that happened, but seeing as you’re a little annoyed that she left you to your own devices you decide not to tell her everything right away. You at least wait until you get home to let her know that you actually found a dominant that was interested in setting up a scene with you. 

Before she can get the chance to lecture you about being safe, you explain to her about all of the boundaries and safe words that you set. You’re not sure how much detail you want to get into about it, but you at least promise to share your location with her during the scene so she can keep an eye on you for peace of mind. 

The scene would take place in one week. Next Saturday. 

In the meantime, you communicate somewhat frequently with Jeongin and Seungmin in a shared group chat. Seungmin shares articles for both you and Jeongin to read up on, and occasionally you would ask a few questions. 

Saturday comes by faster than you know it. 

Y/N: Should I wear anything special? 

Seungmin: Innie says to wear something pink. And bring a change of clothes, something comfortable. 

Seungmin: Don’t be late. 

God, there are butterflies in your stomach. Is that the right terminology for this anxious yet giddy anticipatory feeling building up? You’re not sure, but when you knock on the door to Seungmin’s front door at 6:03 p.m., the feeling rises up again and again. 

He leads you to his bedroom, where Jeongin is sitting on the bed. You sit in a gaming chair that accompanies a desk in the corner of his room, turning back and forth. 

“Jeongin,” Seungmin says. “Do you remember the checklist?” 

“Yeah,” he says to his friend. He turns to you. “How are you feeling today? Any hesitation on your end?” 

“Nope,” you reply. “A little nervous, but excited.” 

“Great. Remember our safe word?” 

“Yeah! Traffic light system. Red for stop, yellow for slow down, green for ‘God, yes, keep going.’” 

“Amazing. So, Seungmin and I are going to go through and show you some of what we had planned for today, just to get you familiar with some of our toys and what not. As we talked about last week, we’re looking to do some pain/impact play, and maybe some sensory play. We’re okay with edging and overstimulation. You were interested in potentially having protected sex with penetration, maybe with both of us. If you feel uncomfortable at any time or want to stop, please let us know. Does that sound good?” You nod your head and smile sweetly. 

“Words,” Jeongin and Seungmin both say at the same time. You let out a light chuckle at the action. 

“Yes. Yes, that sounds good, thank you,” you answer. 

Jeongin shoots Seungmin a look. “Did I miss anything?” 

“Nope, you covered it all! You’re off to a great start. I did want to point out that your friend was three minutes late, however, when I explicitly instructed her to be on time. Now, I want you to be in charge of this scene, since it’s your first time, but that would definitely warrant a punishment if it were me.” You blanch at his words. You didn’t think that being late by three minutes would cause an issue but the promise of a punishment has you squeezing your thighs together in anticipation. 

“Oh?” Jeongin says, shooting you a sinister grin. “Look at her rubbing her thighs together, she’s already wanting to be touched. I bet she did it on purpose, hmm? Did you come here late on purpose so you could get punished?” He stalks across the room to where you’re sat, tilting your head up to make eye contact with him. His gaze is dark yet firm, and you almost find it unbelievable that this is his first scene. Already you’re finding yourself willing to submit, to follow his every command and to please him. 

“No,” you stutter. “Sorry, was an accident.” You don’t break eye contact but your face heats up rapidly. 

“Do you remember what you said you wanted to call me tonight? You didn’t forget, right?” 

“No… no, sir. Sorry,” you say. The both of you shudder at the term. You can tell it has the desired effect on Jeongin, who grips your chin tighter before letting you go, causing your head to fall down from lack of support. 

“On the bed,” he instructs. “Take off your shirt and your pants and wait for Seungmin and I to get our materials ready. If you’re wearing a bra and underwear, keep them on.” 

You nod your head at him before standing up then remember to use your words. “Yes, sir.” 

“Color?” He asks. His face softens for a second and you let out a shaky breath. 

“Green.” 

Seungmin reaches to the top of his dresser and pulls out a long box. He walks you through various items, showing you paddles and floggers, restraints, and vibrators and dildos and other various sex toys. It’s reminiscent of the BDSM event you went to the other day, you think, as he explains each item and its purpose. Eventually he pulls out a red silk blindfold and instructs Jeongin to put it on you. You feel your body start to buzz in anticipation, already excited for what is to come as his long, delicate fingers wrap the blindfold around your head. 

“Cross your hands and put them above your head. Keep them there or I’ll tie them.” 

You let out a breathy sigh. “Yes sir,” you say, and it’s barely a whisper. 

“Jeongin, I’m going to let you take the lead here. Let me know if you have any questions,” Seungmin says. It feels like you are waiting forever, and you know your breathing speeds up when you hear someone rustling through the box. When the bed dips next to you you find yourself pressing your thighs together to get some pressure and relieve some of the tension. The feeling of Jeongin’s hands on your thigh startles you, and he kneads the flesh gently, urging you to spread your legs for him. You do so immediately. 

Something soft prickles at your skin and your breath hitches. What you can only assume is a feather starts at your chest, barely touching your skin but drawing light lines. You feel hot already from the small actions, breathing when the feather draws circles on your neck. Even more so, you have to stop yourself from pressing your thighs back together when he barely touches your nipples over the fabric of your bralette. 

“Oh,” you say. “That feels good.” 

“Yeah?” Jeongin breathes, the ghost of a smirk evident in his voice. He sounds almost as wrecked as you do and that makes you smile. 

You aren’t expecting it when he grazes your clit. You think it’s with his finger, as you can still feel the feather circling your nipple, but the action makes you whimper. 

“I’m going to finger this pretty pussy,” he says. “What’s your color?” 

“Green,” you answer. “So green.” His fingers slip into the waistband of your panties, lingering for a second and teasing you until you lift your hips, allowing him to remove the fabric from your body. 

One finger dips shallowly into your entrance, gathering just a little bit of your wetness. 

“You’re soaked,” he comments. “And I’ve barely touched you.” You nod your head at him in agreement, because you know it’s true. You’re unsure if you’ve ever been this aroused in your life. 

Using your arousal coating his finger, he works small circles outside of your clit, occasionally grazing it. Each time he does your breath catches in your throat, and if you could see him you would know he has a shit-eating grin on his face, working you up so easily from teasing you. 

You barely register when another body dips into the bed next to you, though Seungmin helps raise your body into a sitting position. He grabs your arms and guides them behind your back, leaning you up against him. 

“I’m gonna take this off,” he whispers, fingers sliding underneath your bralette. “You did such a good job wearing pink for us, just like we asked. You’ll just do anything we tell you, won’t you? You’ll be a good girl for us and listen to what we say?” He lifts the bralette over your head, discarding it. 

You feel his breath on your neck, warm. You nod and tilt your head back, leaning yourself completely into the man. 

A hand wraps expertly around your exposed throat. You feel it, finger by finger curling around and pressing into your skin. It’s at this moment that Jeongin decides to thrust a finger into you, hitting deep inside. You let out a cry at both actions, sounding utterly debauched. 

“This will be your last reminder to answer us when spoken to,” Seungmin says, fingers wrapping tighter around your throat. “Do you understand?” 

“Yes… fuck, yes sir.” 

His hand remains unmoving, keeping you in place as Jeongin stimulates you. You notice that he’s not even thrusting his finger, but rhythmically curling it inside you. You try to rock your hips into him to get more stimulation but you're kept in place by the man behind you. 

“M close,” you warn. A series of whimpers and moans leave your mouth, sounds that you’re sure your body has never made before. You know you’re babbling at this point, sounding something like, “Close, so close, oh my God, please, please, I’m going to, please–” 

And when a hand reaches and pinches a nipple, hard, you cum. Jeongin’s pace never changes as he helps you ride it through, and you think you’ve never had an orgasm last this long. It feels like a solid minute passes as you cry and spasm in their hold, legs shaking but remaining open. As you start to come down, you feel a hand in your hair, soothing you. 

You let out a heavy breath as Jeongin finally removes his finger, slumping forward. At the same time the blindfold is removed from your head and you’re exposed to the brightness of the room again, blinking as your vision refocuses. You’re just in time to see Jeongin stick his finger into his mouth, moaning as he licks your release from his appendage. 

“Color?” Seungmin asks from behind you. 

“Green,” you answer, still trying to catch your breath. “That was intense. I’ve never cum that hard in my life,” you admit. 

“You did so good,” Jeongin praises. “We’re going to keep going, okay? We gotta give you your punishment for being late.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

The next thing you see him pull out is a paddle, long and wooden with a rounded end. It looks smooth to the touch but also expensive, as if he invested a good amount of money to pick out one that suited his needs. Not that you would be able to tell the difference between this one and any other paddle, since it was your first time getting spanked in any sense of the manner. 

“Bend over for me, ass in the air, okay?” 

You do as you're told, burying your face in the sheets as you stick your ass up in the air. Seungmin still sits on the bed, watching. 

“Gonna do ten hits, okay baby?” The pet name makes your head spin. 

“Okay, sir,” you answer, remembering to use your words.

“Want you to count them for me.” And with that, he hits your ass with an experimental tap of the paddle, just a little force behind it. It stings just a bit but doesn’t necessarily hurt. 

“One,” you say. 

“You can do it a little harder,” Seungmin encourages. 

On the same cheek follows a harder hit, one that most definitely will be red. It’s loud enough to make a distinct clapping sound echo through the room. 

“Two.” 

“That was better, but you can still do it harder. Don’t be afraid to put some force into it, she can tell you if it’s too much.” 

Now to your other cheek comes the hardest hit yet. This one is enough for your breath to hitch in your throat, your voice shaking as you say, “Three.” 

“Can I show you?” Seungmin asks, standing. Jeongin nods his head behind you and hands off the paddle to Seungmin, standing to the side. You tilt your head to the side, trying to look and see if you can anticipate the blow, but you’re not fast enough. 

Seungmin reels his hand back. This time you can hear the whiff of the paddle in the air a second before it comes, and this hit causes you to cry out. You lurch forward, running away from it slightly. “Like this,” he explains. “She wants it to hurt. If you look close enough, you can see her pretty little cunt clenching. It’s going to be red, and it might bruise a little bit, but she can take it.” 

Seungmin delivers a second hit just as hard as the first, and this time you moan. He’s right–you clench around nothing at the action. You didn’t realize just how much the action would turn you on. His hand comes down to soothe where he hit you, the cold from his palm soothing the skin. 

“Remember to use your words baby,” he chides. “Are you supposed to be counting?” 

“Yes, sir,” you stutter. “Four and five.” 

“Normally, I would start over if they forget to count,” Seungmin explains to Jeongin. “But since it’s both of your first times, we can go easy on her today.” He passes the paddle back to Jeongin and stands back, arms crossed and observing. 

When Jeongin delivers the next hit it’s with much more precision and force than previously. You let out a much louder moan this time. 

“Six,” you breathe. 

“You should see her face,” Seungmin says. “She looks pretty fucked out.” 

“God, that’s so hot,” Jeongin says softly. You can feel him grab your ass and knead it in your hand and you wince, sensitive from the contact of the paddle against your skin. “You’re soaking, baby, I can see your pretty pussy glistening. So fucking dirty for us. Just a few more, okay?” 

“Mhmm, okay sir.” You take the rest of your punishment well and you can tell that you’re red and sore without even looking. You start to slump forward before you feel Jeongin’s hands on your hips, grabbing you to keep you in place. 

He slides a finger up and down your entrance, gathering your slick. You’re so wet you can hear it and the sound is filthy on its own. But at the little bit of contact where you’re already pulsing in need, you let out a needy sound. 

“I’m going to fuck you now,” he says. “What’s your color?” 

You let out a strangled sound before answering. “M Green.” 

You hear him open the condom and you crane your head, trying to get a good look at his length. His cock is long but skinny, red and leaking already from arousal. With one hand bruising your hip he guides himself to you and you can feel him at your entrance, his tip prodding at your hole. Your breath catches in your throat and in response he rubs his cock up and down, teasing your clit. 

“Fuckkk, fuck please,” you say, rocking your hips back to try to push him inside of you. When he catches at your entrance you let out a whine, only increasing in volume when he pushes into you at an agonizingly slow pace. He bottoms out and stills, and for a second the only thing you can hear in the room is your breathing. With that same strong grip on his hips he pulls out, leaving just the tip in before he slams back into you. You lurch forward at the contact, not expecting him to be so forceful. He repeats the action, setting a brutal and relentless pace. All you can think is yes, yes, yes, this is exactly what I wanted. 

And so when a hand comes up and grabs a fistful of your hair, pulls you back and yanks it hard, you let out a loud sound that you know can only be described as pornographic. He uses his grip to give himself momentum, pulling you on and off of his cock and digging his nails into your hips. You wonder if you’ll have red and purple crescent-shaped indents in your skin tomorrow, and you hope the answer is yes. 

Each thrust is hard enough that you let out an “ah, ah, ah,” sound. You no longer worry about sounding dumb, succumbing to the blinding pressure instead. 

Steadily, he works you up to your high. You can feel yourself getting close and faster than you ever have before. You’re a babbling incoherent mess once again, trying to warn them of your approaching release. “Close, close, I’m gonna, fuck, please–” 

“Edge her on your cock,” Seungmin says, interrupting you. He comes to sit on the bed, face to face with your messy appearance. 

Before you can beg or plead any more, Jeongin stills inside you. Your orgasm fizzles and dissipates and you let out a strangled cry in protest. You try to rock back into him, but to no avail. Instead his hand grips tighter in your hair, pulling you up and guiding your face to Seungmin even closer. You try to look away.

Seungmin tilts your head to meet his eyes, thumbing away a tear that you hadn’t realized escaped. “You wanted to see what it’s like to be a sub, let somebody else take over? You wanted to see what it’s like to lose control? This is it, baby.” You whine for a second and he shushes you, pushing two fingers past your lips and into your mouth. 

“Keep going,” Seungmin says, still looking at you. You can feel Jeongin start to rock back into you, slower now but you can still feel him pressing deep inside you. It doesn’t take long for him to work you up again, your orgasm approaching much faster than the last. You moan around Seungmin’s fingers, trying to let him know. 

“You gonna cum for Innie?” Blinking up at him, you nod with your vision hazy from tears. He pulls his fingers from your mouth and you groan, catching your breath. “Look at me while you cum on his cock.” 

And you do. Clenching around him tight, Jeongin works you right through your orgasm. Seungmin’s gaze never leaves yours, though through your immense pleasure you watch his eyes darken. It doesn’t take long before Jeongin finds his own release, spilling into the condom.

When he pulls out and releases his grip from your hair you surge forward, wrapping your arms around Seungmin. 

“You’re doing so good,” he coos, a hand coming to graze up and down your spine that leaves shivers on your skin. “What’s your color?” 

“G-green.” 

“You want to keep going? Think you can take me?”

“Yes, sir.” 

“You’re doing so good, so good baby.” He comes undone from your embrace, a hand coming up to soothe your aching scalp for a second. He positions himself behind you, contemplating before flipping you over to face him. You watch your own chest rise and fall from your heavy breathing and you will it to slow, watching the blank expression on his face. He reaches behind his neck to pull his shirt off, revealing his slightly toned figure. 

He pushes his jeans down his legs and frees his cock which looks painfully hard. He’s not as long as Jeongin but he’s thicker, and you don’t even have time to think about how he’s going to feel before he’s sliding the condom on and pushing in, slightly stretching you out in the process.

“Shit, sensitive,” you warn. 

“You can take it,” he says. “If you need to use your color system you can.” You nod at him in confirmation, wincing from the sensitivity as he starts fucking into you. You can’t help how hard you’re squeezing around him already. When Jeongin settles behind you, cradling your head in his lap, you can’t help but look up at him with wide eyes. Seungmin sets a steady pace, pounding into you deep but not as hard as Jeongin had. After a few consistent thrusts he’s lifting your legs up, pushing them towards your chest. 

“Keep these here,” he tells you. With shaky hands you hold yourself in place, presenting yourself for him. This new angle allows him to reach impossibly deeper and you can feel the wet slap of his hips against the back of your thighs with every thrust. “Fuck, so good for us,” he grunts. “Such a perfect little slut for us, yeah? God, Jeongin, touch her clit, I’m already fucking close.” 

Jeongin does as instructed, reaching down to circle your sensitive bundle of nerves with expertly skilled hands. His other hand reaches to thumb at your nipple, causing you to close your eyes and tilt your head back.

Your thighs are trembling and before you can even say anything your orgasm is ripped out of you, blinding you with how suddenly it came on. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you hear as Seungmin snaps his hips into two more times before you feel him twitch, filling up the inside of the condom. 

You finally catch your breath as he stills, pulling out of you. He stands up to discard the condom and you almost don’t catch the whine that leaves your mouth. 

“It’s okay, baby, I’m right here. Neither of us are going anywhere,” Jeongin says, his words soothing the discomfort that had started to bubble in your chest. You’ve never felt so clingy before after sex but you feel at ease when Jeongin wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you further into his lap. 

When Seungmin returns he slides into a pair of sweats and joins you on the bed. They both dote on you for several minutes, comforting you and soothing the areas of your skin that had received more harsh treatment. 

Seungmin finally speaks, “That was intense, but you did so good for your first time. Do you feel okay? Is there anything that you didn’t like?” 

You shake your head at him. “That was like, everything I’d ever dreamed of, honestly.” They both let out a soft chuckle at that. 

“I liked it too,” Jeongin said. “You looked so… God I loved making you look like that. That was a lot of fun.” You had almost forgotten that it was his first scene, too. You weren’t sure what you were expecting going into everything but you were more than happy with the outcome, moreso with the amount of open communication that they had had with you. You smile happily and nuzzle your head against the bed, almost dozing off. 

“Hey hey, I’m gonna run you a shower, okay?” 

“Don’t want to leave you,” you mumble. 

“Innie can join you in the shower and then we can take a small nap if you’d like, yeah? I have to change my sheets and you need to get cleaned up.” You hear the shower running in the other room and barely register it when Jeongin scoops you up and brings you to the shower. He holds you steady as you rock back and forth under the warm stream of water, even going as far as scrubbing your skin and toweling you dry. 

When you get under the covers you hum as you feel a warm pair of arms wrap around your frame, pulling you close. Another body lays to your other side, running a hand through your hair. 

“I want to do this again,” you say, your brain still in a deep-fried haze. You smile at the sound of laughter. 

“Sure, baby. We can talk about it when we wake up.”  *** Part 3/4 of the threesome series!! Ahhh this one took me forever to write but I hope y'all enjoy!! (TBH I have absolutely no experience with this kind of thing IRL but I tried my best and I did some research lol) Masterlist Recs Taglist: @lolareadsimagines @elizalabs3/ let me know if you want to be added to the taglist for this series

[pricefieldsuperiority]

Yearning Allegations - Pt.3

Part 1 here / Part 2 here

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x reader

Genre: Friends to lovers slowburn (Series)

Summary: You've liked Paige for the longest time, is there any chance she likes you too?

It's been 2 weeks of awkward silence.

Ever since Paige came over the other day, she's either been ghosting your texts entirely or giving you short replies followed up with excuses about how she's really busy.

The biggest game of the season is coming up - Uconn vs Iowa. Everyone's been talking about it, and you know the team is training super hard for the game- KK and Nika won't stop blowing your phone up with Uconn shit. Despite all this, you just can't shake the feeling something is wrong between you two.

So that's why you're walking down to the school gyms at 9 pm, hoping to find Paige practicing late like she does when she's stressed out.

The halls seem so empty and lifeless without her constant chatter and her melodic laughter. You're fidgeting with your clothes, hoping the sinking feeling in your stomach will dissipate soon.

In the gym, you spot Paige on the farside of the court, shooting basket after basket. Her brows are furrowed with concentration, sweat beading on her forehead.

"Paige!" You shout as you lightly jog over.

Paige glances at you and then takes another shot, which just bounces off the backboard with a loud thud. She curses and grabs it on its way down before replying to you.

"Hey y/n, what are you doing here?"

You're anxious, eyes rovering over her face, but she won't meet your gaze.

"Is.. is everything okay between us?" You say, hesitantly stepping closer to her.

Paige has stopped throwing the ball, instead just holding it under one arm with her eyes trained on the floor.

She finally looks at you, a mix of emotions written all over her face.

"Everything's cool, yeah.. but be honest.. Did I.. make you uncomfortable the other day?"

"Of course not, why??" You're surprised by her words, confused by where she's going with this.

Paige's shoulders relax for a moment at your response, but her expression remains conflicted.

"I was just wondering if I took it too far the other day.." She trails off, rubbing the back of her neck.

"Too far?" You breathe out, hardly daring to consider what she means by that.

"Yeah.. I just.."

Paige seems to struggle to get the words out, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

"I know you don't want me like how I want you, and I was worried I had made you uncomfortable or something."

Paige wants you? The words ring in your mind.

"What? What do you mean?" You're in disbelief. What is she talking about?

Paige sighs, throwing her basketball into the lined baskets lined by the gym walls before she continues on.

"Y/n, I've liked you for years. I've tried to make that clear, hoping you might take the hint or say something, but you never did. I didn't want to ruin what we have- but the other day made me feel so.." She trails off, "It's just hard to be friends with you when I want more than that. And I'm really sorry for ghosting you, that wasn't cool."

Paige runs her hands through her hair anxiously while your heart strains in your chest.

"And wait- that's not to say I don't want to be friends with you - I love being friends with you, I love you-"

Your heart is pounding in your ears, heart registering her words, and you just can't hold back anymore. You close the distance between you two, lunging for her, kissing her like she's your lifeline.

Paige is shocked for a second, before responding immediately, her hands grabbing your waist, pulling you in further.

It's all you've imagined, yet somehow better. Your hands are tangled in her hair, tugging lightly as her lips desperately press against your own. Paige kisses you, soft and open mouthed, but like a woman starved. You're enveloped in nothing but the sweet scent of her perfume while your heart feels like it's exploding, butterflies flittering wildly around in your stomach.

When you break apart, you both wear matching relieved grins. You swear to yourself that Paige's eyes have never looked more soft than in this moment, the love within them so obvious to you now. Her cheeks are flushed, more pink than you've ever seen them, her eyes alight with an excitement you've only ever attributed to the look she gets when she wins games.

Your next words tumble out in a rush, eager to tell her how you feel.

"I love you, Paige.. I've loved you since high school. I've loved growing up with you, learning more about you over the years, and getting to watch you do what you love. I love the way you care so deeply about people - about your fans, your team, your family. I love how strong you are, persevering through everything just to pursue your dreams."

You laugh, the words freeing to finally say aloud.

"I love all the little things about you, like the way you're so stupidly competitive about everything, whether that's shooting hoops or playing video games, I love your silly cocky nature and all your stupid jokes, your dramatic ass- bro can't even take medicine without taking a solid 10 minutes to complain- and even all the ways you annoy me on purpose just because you know they make me laugh nonetheless. I always feel safe with you, understood in a way I've never felt with other people.. I.. just.. so many things, Paige."

Paige's response is barely above a whisper,

"Why... why didn't you say anything?"

She's running her hands through her hair again, continuing.

"I just thought you didn't like me, like I hoped you did but I was never really sure. That's why I didn't say nothing"

You smile at her,

"I didn't wanna lose you by saying I liked you in case you didn't feel that way, I don't know. Maybe we both did the same thing, haha." You start trailing off awkwardly, suddenly feeling shy with the way she's looking at you.

Paige just grins, pulling you back into her by the hips, bringing you two face to face. She tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear before she rests her hands on your waist.

"Good thing I do, cause now I get to ask you to be my girl." Paige is grinning so widely you just grin back, happiness manifesting as butterflies in the pit of your stomach.

"Pfftt.. I was always your girl. " You stick your tongue out at her, and she throws an arm over your shoulder in response.

"Damn y/n tryin rizz me up!?" Paige laughs at her own joke before continuing,

"Anyway, come on, let's go home."

She holds the gym doors open for you, and you're struck with a sense of deja vu, heart full.

"Well.. I mean, it worked."

You smirk at her with that.

Paige just bites her lip in response, waggling her brows and rubbing her hands together at you.

You groan as you both walk to her dorm,

"Not the rizz hands!"

All you hear is her resulting laugh.

"Always the rizz hands! Come on y/n you love it, clearlyyyy."

You find yourself unable to stop smiling at her, but you attempt an eye roll to keep up appearances anyway.

"You're all mine now," you say, shoving her slightly.

Paige smiles back, love in her gaze.

"I was always yours y/n."

---

Authors Note: This is the final chapter, I love soft Paige. Hope y'all enjoyed it. Thanks for reading! <3

[selfindulgentpoorlywritten]

My Sweet Girl (Matthew Tkachuk Imagine)

This is by far-- I repeat, by far-- the longest reader insert I've ever written. It's my submission for @wyattjohnston 's Winter Fic Exchange, a gift for @matthewtkachuk ! Excellent URL, by the way.

The creative process here went as follows: Shelbs shows me her On Repeat Spotify playlist -> I see The Band Camino on it and remember that I love that band -> I listen to nothing but them for two weeks -> I hear the song Know It All and am struck with inspiration -> I write this and inflict it on everyone else.

I jumped around a bit while writing, so please let me know if there's anything I screwed up! This is also the type of fic that has had 20+ tabs of Wikipedia pages, ESPN articles, and stats pages open on my computer for two months, but there was still information I couldn't find, so please be gentle with any inconsistencies.

Anyway, I truly hope that you enjoy this one! I apologize for being a day late posting, my job sucks.

Rating: M

Pairing: Matthew Tkachuk/fem!Reader

Words: 26, 028

Warnings: a lot of angst

Contains: best friend's brother, friends to ??? to strangers to lovers, situationship, idiots in love, everyone knows but them, Matthew being kind of a dick, guest appearances by the Weinberg-Hughes family and Jane Gaudreau

Summary: As Brady's best friend, it was your duty to love and support him. You're pretty sure falling in love with his brother does not count as "support", but here you are.

-----

You weren’t expecting this to be as hard as it is.

Luckily, you’d been given a little warning beforehand, but apparently a week wasn’t enough to prepare yourself. Was it kind of fucked up that the news had to come from Brady, because Matthew hadn’t bothered to tell you himself? Yeah, kind of. Sure, Brady and you have been best friends for years, but it’s not like you’re not close with Matthew, too.

You hadn’t realized what was going on at first, convincing yourself not to be upset when Matthew’s texts slowed and his calls stopped outright. It had been the beginning of the playoffs, you reasoned, of course he was going to be too busy to talk to you as much. Despite the fact that communication between the two of you had never waned because of the season before. It was his first year on a new team, you’d told yourself, a team with a great shot at the Cup, at that. You could deal with missing him a little more than usual if that’s what he needed.

When you’d called him to congratulate him on passing the first round, he’d thanked you and wrapped the call up as quickly as he could. Seeing the 3:24:41 call duration on your phone afterward had felt wrong. It was one of the shortest calls the two of you had ever had.

You’d brushed it off, chalked it up to him being tired or busy. Then they’d won the second round, and the process repeated itself. A quick phone call, a few scant minutes. It had sounded like other people were there that time, so you’d convinced yourself that he would call you back when he was alone. He never did.

You got to watch Game 4 of the third series, got to watch them sweep Carolina to win the Eastern Conference. Your friend Terri had laughed and clapped as you cheered, jumping up and down like a child. She was a Carolina fan herself, but was good enough of a loser to hug and congratulate you despite it. She’d offered to leave so that you could talk to Matthew, but you’d waved it off. You knew he’d be celebrating with the boys that night, so there was no real reason to try calling. You’d shot him a congratulations text and spent the night smiling so much your cheeks hurt.

When you’d tried to call Matthew the next day, his voice had been hushed when he answered. You’d given him your congratulations, bubbling over about how well they’d played. It’s not the first time you’d had a phone call exactly like that, him letting you gush about his team’s play and basking in the attention. This time, he interrupted you before you even got a chance to really get going. His voice was still quiet, almost a whisper as he said he had to go. The wind was immediately taken out of your sails and you’d barely had time to say goodbye before he hung up.

At that point, you’d given up convincing yourself that everything was okay. Something was very clearly wrong, and you’d spent the next nine days trying to figure out what it was. You’d reached out to Brady, and he’d told you that he hadn’t noticed anything weird from Matthew at all. Knowing that, you’d tried to downplay what was going on between the two of you, lest Brady go bother Matthew about it. You don’t do well with embarrassment, so you’d preferred that whatever was going on stayed away from any third parties.

The finals started, ending rather anticlimactically ten days later in a 4-1 loss for the Panthers. Knowing Matthew, he was going to go straight back to his hotel room and beat himself up. For the last three, almost four, years, you’d called Matthew after every big win or loss, and this was his biggest loss to date. Yet your finger hesitated at his contact name, hovered over the picture of him with bedhead and a lazy smile. With how things had been going, you knew he probably wouldn’t want to talk to you, even if you hadn’t figured out why yet. But part of you hoped that he would, that everything to that point had been stress, and there, at his lowest, he would talk to you again, and everything would go back to normal.

That, of course, is not what happened.

He hadn’t answered at all. And when you’d tried a second time an hour later, it rang once before going to voicemail. That meant that he’d declined your call, but you didn’t know what that meant.

Two more days passed without you hearing anything from him, so you’d called Brady. All of this had been concerning, but that had been too much. Miraculously, you’d managed to stay calm when you spoke with Brady, sounding impressively level-headed when you relayed what happened and asked him if he’d heard from Matthew. Brady had seemed shocked at the situation, immediately calling Matthew after he’d hung up with you.

Thirty minutes later, when you’d received a text from Brady, your heart had sunk to the pit of your stomach, and it’s stayed there ever since.

Because what the text had informed you of is that Matthew hadn’t lost or broken his phone, hadn’t been sick or depressed or, god, lost in the fucking desert or some shit. It told you that he’d been with his girlfriend, and hadn’t wanted her to see him call or text another girl. Because, apparently, Matthew has a girlfriend now. And just hadn’t deigned to tell you.

When Brady had told you that she would be spending the offseason in St. Louis with Matthew, you’d tried to hide your shock. You’d cleared your throat and told Brady how great that was, even as you wanted to throw up. They’d gotten into town a few days ago, and you’d done your best to keep your distance. But Brady asked you to come to dinner at his parents’ house tonight, citing the limited time you have to see him before he goes back to Ottawa, and you couldn’t refuse.

So now here you are, curled up in a chair in the Tkachuks’ den, across from said girlfriend. Her name is Tessa, she’s 26, and she does remote work for a marketing firm. That explains how she’s able to pick up and go to St. Louis for three months, at least. She’s already recounted the story of how they’d met, a romcom story of spilling his drink on her dress at a party and getting to know each other from there. She talks about the instant connection, the way they clicked so quickly that she knew they were meant for each other. That part of the story was when you’d excused yourself to get a glass of water, just so you could stick your head in the fridge and take a few deep breaths.

Matthew and Tessa are on one of the couches, the older, comfier one. Matthew is propped up against one of the armrests, Tessa curled into his side, his arm around her shoulders. You’ve spent the night pretending not to notice the way Matthew keeps glancing at you.

Brady and Emma are posted up on the other couch, one on either side, Emma’s feet in Brady’s lap as she lounges. Emma is great, and does a great job at keeping the conversation going, despite how little you and the boys are participating. Tessa either doesn’t notice your silence or doesn’t mind, chatting happily about some film she and Emma have both recently seen. You’re pretending not to notice the looks Brady’s giving you, either.

You should really be trying harder. You know Brady wasn’t expecting you to curl up under a blanket and mope when he invited you, and he really is right about time being limited. You should be engaging, enjoying the time you get with the boys while you have it. You would, if you could open your mouth without feeling like you’re going to scream.

Eventually, Chantal calls you all to dinner. It’s easier once you’re all gathered around the table, somehow, and you’re able to talk a little. Chantal has always put you at ease, has always made you feel like just another of her children. If you had it your way, Taryn would be here too. She has a way of lovingly bullying you that always makes you feel better. Unfortunately, she’s visiting some college friends out of state. But you’re doing okay, you think, at acting normal.

Then you lock eyes with Keith, and any sense of ease you’ve gained flies out the window. You wouldn’t be inclined to say that Keith is the most observant person in the world, so the way he’s looking at you– like he knows something is very, very wrong– makes it clear that you’re doing an absolutely dogshit job at hiding your feelings. You look away from him quickly, swallowing hard and forcing yourself to talk even more. 

Maybe if you can just act normal, if you can push down the emotions and act like everything is okay, it will be. There’s nothing else you can really do about the situation anyway. Matthew has made it clear that he’s not interested in talking about it, so you’ll have to suck it up and deal with it on your own.

Dinner goes by a little quicker once you’re actually actively involved in the conversation. Typically, you help Chantal with the dishes after meals, but when you reach for the sponge at the sink, she shoos you away. She sends the girls back to the den, insisting that it’s the boys’ turn to help.

You curl back up in your chair, mind wandering as you operate on autopilot. You’re saying things, contributing to the conversation with Emma and Tessa, but you have no idea what you’re actually saying. Mercifully, they either don’t notice or don’t care.

This entire situation is fucked. What’s really getting to you, though, is how you’d been introduced. You’d walked in, giving out hugs to everyone except Matthew and Tessa. She’d approached you, shaking your hand enthusiastically.

“Matthew said you’re Brady’s best friend, right?” she’d asked. It was simple, innocuous, and true. Brady and you have been best friends for years, and that would be an adequate title in any other scenario. But it felt like a punch to the gut, knowing that after everything, Matthew had told her that you were just his little brother’s best friend. You’d glanced at him as she said it, and the intentionally cool, unaffected expression Matthew had in place still couldn’t hide the guilt in his eyes.

In that moment, you knew that he hadn’t told her anything about you, about whatever the two of you have been to each other for the past few years, and that he never intends to. There was a second where he’d made a decision, a second that you weren’t present for, that had cut off everything you’ve been to him and relegated you back to Brady’s Best Friend.

You want to pull Tessa aside, spill out everything. You want her to know that you’re Matthew’s friend too, that you’ve been more than that. More than that, you want Matthew to do it. You want him to tell her, to acknowledge whatever the hell you’ve been doing for all this time. You want him to admit that you’re something, anything to him.

Instead, you keep it all to yourself. The knowledge of everything between you and Matthew will live and die where it is now, in the minds of the two of you, and nowhere else.

June, 2018

You’re wiping down the counters when the man enters. You force a bright smile at him, still annoyed from the previous customer but doing your best not to show it. He returns the smile, approaching the register. You move to settle across from him, greeting him politely. The shop has a lot of regulars, but you don’t recognize this guy.

“I’ll be honest,” he says, giving a single nervous laugh, “I’m not really a coffee guy. Do you have any recommendations?” It’s not an uncommon question, and there aren’t any other customers right now, so you don’t mind.

“Do you like the taste of coffee?” you ask. He shakes his head. That eliminates about half of the menu, so it’s progress.

“How much caffeine are you going for?” you ask next.

“As much as possible,” he replies. The dark circles under his eyes could have hinted you to that conclusion. He has a laptop and notebook in one hand, down by his side. It’s normal for people to bring work along with them, and he’s definitely young, so you guess it’s probably school work.

“You could always do a triple shot latte with a flavor,” you suggest, your own go-to drink, “The caramel is the strongest. I can put in an extra pump if you want.” Technically, you should charge extra for that, but the kid looks kind of pathetic, and you feel bad. He can have a pity pump this once.

“That sounds good,” he agrees. You do the math in your head and punch in the price manually on the vintage register. The whole cafe is supposed to have a vintage vibe, a real hipster magnet. Math was always your weakest subject, but having to calculate totals in your head has made you a lot better with it.

Once he pays on the very not-vintage card reader, you direct him to the far side of the bar. You start on his drink, pulling shots with practiced ease. You’ve been working  here since high school, so you’ve gotten pretty good at making coffee. He doesn’t try to talk to you while you work, which is nice. There’s something oddly calming about his presence, though, and it’s helping your annoyance fade.

You hand off his drink, and he retreats to a booth in the back corner after thanking you. You go back to wiping things down, bobbing your head along with the music playing quietly over the speakers. It’s later in the evening, so you only get a few customers over the next hour. It’s one thing you like about working the night shift. Not many customers, and most of the people getting coffee around this time are tired enough to not give you much trouble, and are usually extremely grateful for the caffeine.

It’s quiet for long enough that you pull your stool up to the counter, pulling your textbook and notes out from under the counter. You start working on the homework for your summer semester, singing quietly to yourself as you read.

“You have a nice voice,” the guy from earlier says, suddenly standing in front of you. You jump, hand flying to your chest as if you’re a damsel in a period piece. You’d forgotten he was here.

“Thank you,” you say, once the surprise fades. You laugh a little, shaking your head. He laughs too, apologizing for startling you.

“Could I have another?” he asks, holding up his now-empty cup.

“Of course,” you reply, “Same cup okay?” You do your best to be environmentally friendly, so you don’t want to use another cup if you don’t have to. He says that’s okay, so you take the cup and start pulling another shot.

“Y/N,” he says absently as he leans on the counter, “That’s a pretty name.” You thank him again, dumping the first shot into the cup. It’s odd, because people are usually flirting when they say something like that, but his tone isn’t suggestive at all.

“What’s your name?” you ask, feeling like you should say something. You start pulling the second shot.

“Brady,” he says, extending a hand toward you. You look between his hand and your own, feeling rude but needing both hands to pull the shot.

“Oh, um,” you stutter, “Sorry, I’m–” He seems to realize what’s going on and retracts his hand, using it to rub at the base of his skull.

“My bad,” he says, shaking his head at himself, “I’m tired, sorry.” You smile at him, much more genuine than the first time.

“What’s got you so tired anyway, Brady?” you ask, dumping the second shot and starting on the third. His face twists at what you’d thought was an innocuous question. He’s clearly debating something in his head, so you stay silent.

“I’ve got something big coming up in a couple weeks,” he explains, tapping his fingers against the counter, “I’m just trying to be prepared.” You nod, not minding how vague he’s being. You don’t actually need to know every detail of a random customer’s life. There’s a moment of quiet as you dump in the third shot and pour some milk into a metal container.

“And I might be a little nervous,” he says, looking at his hands instead of you. You smile again, beginning to steam the milk.

“Just a little,” you repeat, slightly teasing in a way you usually aren’t with customers.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, looking up at you, “Just a little.” You smile at each other for a second, both knowing he’s seriously downplaying his feelings. You wonder what it is that has him so anxious, sure that it must be something serious. He doesn’t seem to be the neurotic type.

“What are you working on?” he asks as you pour the milk, gesturing toward your books spread out next to the register. You shrug.

“Organic chemistry,” you reply, pumping in the flavoring, “The worst class ever.” He cringes at the mention of it, which you feel in your bones.

“I’ve heard it’s awful,” he says.

“It is,” you confirm. You snap the lid back onto the cup, sliding it over the counter to him. He cradles it between his hands, but doesn’t move to leave. He’s looking up at you from where he’s hunched over, and you can’t help but stare back.

“Do you want to come sit with me?” he asks, “We could be miserable together.” The smile that overtakes your face mirrors itself on his own.

August, 2018

When Brady walks in, right at his usual time, you give him a smile and lean over the counter to hug him. You’ve become fast friends, sitting together a few nights a week, probably talking more than studying. His Big Thing is long past, and he still hasn’t told you what it was, but you don’t really mind. You get to know about his family and his girlfriend and his upcoming move to Ottawa, of all places, but you don’t need to know everything if he doesn’t want to share.

You make two of the usual latte, one for each of you. You grab your books from the shelf, meeting him at the corner booth. You get through some small talk as you both set up, going back and forth with an ease that you were surprised to find has been there since the beginning.

“Matthew’s going to come hang out tonight,” he says as he logs into his computer. He’s spoken about his brother before, so you’re somewhat intrigued.

“Any particular reason?” you ask. To your knowledge, Matthew has never been to the shop, so you’re not sure if something special is going on to spur him into coming.

“He thinks it sounds cool,” Brady shrugs, flipping his notebook open. Maybe you’d know what he’s always working on if you could read his tiny chicken scratch. As it is, you don’t mind letting him have his secrets.

You get four pages into your chapter before another customer enters, laying your pen in the divot between the pages while you go make them their drink. Luckily, they don’t stick around. It’s not awful when other people are around, but you always feel like someone is going to complain about you sitting in the dining room and studying while you should be working. But if there’s no work to be done, you don’t think there’s anything wrong with it. Unfortunately, not everyone agrees. So you prefer if it’s just you and Brady.

Another four pages drag by, reading interspersed with breaks to talk. Honestly, the breaks are also a way to keep yourself sane as you read unnecessarily complicated science.

When the next customer enters, you spring up from your chair, shooting them a smile as you make your way behind the counter. You give your standard greeting, asking what you can get them.

“What do you recommend?” the man asks. You were kind of hoping he’d have something in mind so that this interaction could go quickly, because he may be the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen and it’s making you flustered.

“Do you like the taste of coffee?” you ask. He nods, looking you up and down with a critical eye. It feels personal, feels like he’s searching for something, and you’re not sure if you like it.

“How much caffeine are you looking for?” you ask next. You do your best to maintain eye contact, ignoring the way you have to look up to do so.

“How much you got?” he asks in return. The crooked smile he gives you makes your stomach flip. You grasp for a drink to suggest, all knowledge having fled your mind in order to focus on the curl of his hair over his forehead, the glint of his bright eyes.

“A Lazy Eye would probably be the most,” you say, clearing your throat, “But if you don’t want to have a heart attack, you could do a regular Red Eye.” He tilts his head, smile turning smug, as if he’s noticed your distraction. Something about it snaps you out of your daze, slightly indignant. You’ve seen plenty of hot guys in your day, and you’re not about to look like a fool in front of him just because he’s pretty.

“Red Eye, Black Eye, Dripped Eye, Lazy Eye,” you list off with as much confidence as you can muster, “Each with one more shot than the last. Pick your poison.” Your attitude change only makes him smile wider. Your hand is poised over the buttons of the register, ready to ring up whatever he decides.

“Let’s go with a Black Eye,” he says, bearing a surprisingly sharp canine, “I’ve had a few of those in my time.” That doesn’t surprise you, with his smug face and oozing self-confidence. Something about it feels so disingenuous that it makes your teeth itch. It’s clearly an act, but you can’t exactly call him on it.

You give him his total, he pays, you get to work. You empty the last dregs of coffee in the pot into the sink and set the machine to brew a new batch. No matter how annoying a customer seems, you’re not about to serve them shitty coffee.

“Y/N,” he says, leaning on the counter, “That’s a pretty name.” It’s exactly what Brady had said when you’d met him, which makes you eye the man a little suspiciously. Whereas Brady had clearly not been flirting when he’d said it, this man’s tone is ambiguous enough that you’re not entirely sure what his intentions are.

“Thank you,” you say, dumping the first shot of espresso into the cup. Normally, you would ask for his name in return, but you’re not sure if you want to encourage him talking to you.

“How long have you worked here?” he asks anyway.

“Almost three years,” you reply. You’re not sure you want to tell him anything about your life, but you’re trying to be polite.

“Experienced,” he says, smiling like he’s a lion closing in on its prey, “I like that.” It’s cheesy and kind of sleazy, and you can’t help but scoff in disbelief. He’s watching you like a hawk, studying your reactions to everything he says and does. You dump the second shot, wishing the coffee would brew faster so this interaction could be over.

“I don’t think I want to know what else you like,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. You used to get embarrassed and rattled by customers making comments like this, but at some point something had changed inside you. Now you just get annoyed, no matter how hot the person may be.

“Feisty,” he says, smile changing slightly in a way you can’t parse, “I like that too.” You roll your eyes, making a quiet noise of disgust. It’s not great for business to react to customers this way, but you can’t help it.

“I like it when men are silent,” you reply, able to feel how withering your gaze is. His expression changes yet again, smile getting smaller but more genuine, scrunching the bottom of his eyes up a little. That feels more natural to you, looks more right on his face. Something about the new softness in his eyes soothes something inside of you.

The coffee machine beeps to signal that it’s ready, and you waste no time in grabbing the pot and filling the cup. You hand it off to him, giving your biggest, most obviously fake smile.

“Have a fantastic night,” you say, immediately rounding the counter and heading back to the booth. When you settle back into your seat, Brady is smiling at you like you’ve told the funniest joke in the world.

“What?” you ask, picking up your pen. Brady’s eyes flick up above your head, slightly to the left, staying there, prompting you to turn around. The man is standing behind you, small smile still in place.

“Brady’s told me so much about you,” he says, and it dawns on you, “Nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Matthew.” Your jaw falls open and you turn back to Brady, kicking him in the shin under the table. He yelps; Matthew laughs.

“You’re both the worst,” you spit, trying to hold onto your irritation and failing. You laugh alongside the brothers, begrudgingly amused by the ridiculousness of the situation.

“Sorry about that back there,” Matthew apologizes, seemingly genuine, “I couldn’t help myself.” You shake your head at him as he bullies Brady further into the booth so he can sit. Brady shoves him back, but moves his things over anyway.

“It’s okay,” you say, pointing at him, “But if you ever pull that shit again, I’m banning you from the shop.” That startles a laugh out of him.

“I didn’t know you had the power to do that,” he replies, using his crossed arms to lean on the table.

“I do now,” you say, tilting your chin up, “Gonna put a picture up of you with a big X on it and everything.” You stare at each other for a second, and he breaks first, ducking his head as he laughs.

“Fair enough,” he concedes, looking up at you through his lashes. Your heart skips a beat, but you do your best to seem unaffected. This is your friend’s brother, for Christ’s sake. You can’t be all aflutter over him. You’re not sure you have a choice in the matter.

June, 2023

You might actually kill your coworker one day. He’s such a smug rat bastard, and every meeting including both of you makes you think you’re going to grind your teeth into dust. It’s just lucky that the job is remote, so you don’t have to be around him physically. Probably best for both your sanity and his safety.

“I mean, at least you were right in the end?” Terri says, sounding uncertain through your headphones. You’re sauteeing some onions and peppers, moving them around more than you should be just for something to do with your hands.

“Yeah, I guess,” you sigh, “I just don’t understand why he wants to make me look bad.” Ian– the coworker– seems to always have some kind of comment on your work, some type of criticism. Constructive criticism is part of the game, but his is never constructive. It doesn’t help that you’re the only two in the graphics department, so he’s always there when you present work. And really, being the only two should mean that you work together and support each other, honestly.

“Because he’s an insecure man-child,” Terri replies easily. You shake your head down at the vegetables, startling as the oven timer goes off. You jab at the button to turn it off, opening the door to remove the chicken.

“I think I’ve had enough of insecure man-children,” you grumble. You cut open one of the chicken breasts with more force than is strictly necessary, grateful that it seems to be done.

“You finally wanna talk about that?” Terri asks, and honestly? No, you don’t. Ideally, you’ll never talk about it, just push it down into the darkest recesses of your mind and bury it there. Unfortunately, you possess some level of emotional maturity, which means you know that you have to talk about it eventually.

It’s hard, because despite Brady being your best friend, you can’t exactly talk to him about this. If he knew any part of what’s been going on, he’d probably go physically fight Matthew on your behalf. Part of you thinks that might actually make you feel a little better. But he’d also probably be mad that you’ve had a not-thing with his brother, and that would make you feel worse.

“She seems like a nice woman,” you say, trying to keep your tone neutral. Terri sighs, and you take your plate of food to the living room to eat.

“She’s not the problem, here,” she says. She’s right, and you know it. You really don’t have anything against Tessa, and obviously you can’t blame her for any of this. Clearly, she had no idea about your not-thing with Matthew, and genuinely fell for him. There’s no point in being mad at her.

“Yeah, well,” you push some food around your plate, “He’s a fuckface and she can have him.” The mention of Matthew has ruined your appetite, the meal now looking completely unappealing. You push the plate to the other side of the coffee table with a huff. You’ll try eating again later, you tell yourself, knowing that you haven’t been eating nearly enough lately. You can’t help it, your inner turmoil chasing away your hunger most of the time.

“He is a fuckface,” Terri agrees, adding, “But don’t pretend you don’t still want him.” Ugh. Friends are the worst, actually, and you should just become a hermit in a cave somewhere. There’s no point even trying to deny the claim, both of you knowing that she’s right.

“I’m not allowed to want him anymore,” you say, voice coming out weaker than you want to admit, “I never should have let myself want him in the first place.” In the beginning, despite being attracted to Matthew, it was easy to maintain distance. He was in Calgary most of the year, and reminding yourself that he was your new friend’s brother actually worked as a deterrent back then.

You can’t pinpoint exactly when you started letting yourself get caught up, but you’d ended up completely entangled with him. Now he’s put that distance back between you, ripping away the strings you’d been tied up in, leaving you with all these empty spaces where he used to be. And it’s making you hate yourself, knowing that if you’d just kept things cordial, restricted your attention and connection to Brady like you should have, you wouldn’t be feeling any of this right now.

“You can’t help who you love,” Terri says, so gently that it only hurts more. You’re not fragile, okay? You don’t need the softness, the careful handling. You’re not fragile. You’re not.

“I gotta go eat,” you say, not wanting to lie, but needing a way out of the conversation, “Bye, Ter.” She says your name, but you just repeat the goodbye. She sighs, says goodbye, and you hang up. What you should do is eat something and go to sleep. Instead, you eye the easel in the corner of the living room. You sigh, heaving yourself up off of the couch to go grab a glass of water to rinse your brushes with.

April, 2019

It’s probably going to become your new favorite day of the year: the day Brady comes home from Ottawa. His plane had landed yesterday, and his parents had even brought you to the airport with them to pick him up. As quickly as you’d bonded last summer, you’d only gotten closer through the season. It feels like you can talk to each other about anything, like you were meant to meet, like he’s the platonic version of a soulmate. You had patiently waited your turn to hug him after his parents, squeezing him as tightly as you could manage. He’d only squeezed back harder.

With their seasons ending right around the same time this year, Matthew had landed the same night. Knowing they’d have to go back to the airport, the Tkachuks had decided to just spend the day out instead of going home. They’d invited you to come with them, an invitation you’d eagerly accepted. They’re quickly starting to feel like family to you, and you love spending time with them. For the first time in your life, it feels like you fit somewhere.

Unfortunately, you hadn’t been able to come along to pick up Matthew. You’d had to work last night, so the Tkachuks had dropped you off at home to get changed and get going. You’d still gotten to spend most of the day with them, which would have to be enough.

You’re going over to their place today, and you decided to bake and bring along cookies. All of their local family and friends are going to be there to welcome the boys home, and you haven’t met most of them yet, so you want to make a good first impression. Besides, it’s just polite to bring something along to someone’s house.

Though Brady still tries to hug you when you arrive, despite your hands being full, the plates need to be deposited on the dining room table before he can get a real one. There are a few people chatting in the room, so Brady introduces you to them.

Most of the next hour goes much the same, Brady introducing you to family and friends, having small conversations with all of them. You know that Brady isn’t trying to embarrass you, but he has a habit of hyping you up to people. He’s more outgoing than you are, and he uses that social ease to brag about how smart you are, how talented. It feels a little like he’s trying to justify being your friend to them, but you know better than to think that Brady cares what anyone thinks of him and his choices.

The kitchen exits onto a large cherry wood deck, scattered with chairs, some of them already occupied. The back yard is sprawling, green grass lined with lush bushes. There’s a pool to the right, not opened for the summer yet, a jacuzzi positioned between it and the house. You’re still not really used to all of this, the casual wealth of the family. It’s so far from what you’d grown up with, something that had astonished you when you’d realized just how far above you the Tkachuks are.

There are a few yard games set up in the grass, cornhole and ladders and something you don’t recognize. And there, in the center of the yard, Matthew is teaching a child how to play ladders. The kid is probably a cousin, of which they have many. Matthew is barefoot, wearing a bright red Flames hoodie and black shorts that only come to mid-thigh. You’ve narrowed your staring down to a minimum, so your eyes only linger for a second or two before you turn back to Brady.

He guides you around to meet the few people braving the chilly spring weather, much as he had done inside. Everyone is so nice, saying how pleased they are to meet you, and seeming to mean it.

Your last stop is Matthew, who interrupts his lesson to hug you. It’s only the second time the two of you have done so, the first having been the last time you saw him before he left for the season. Despite that fact, he squeezes you almost as hard as Brady had, as if you’re his best friend too. Not that you’d presume to be Brady’s best friend, but. Still.

“It’s good to see you, Y/N,” he says when you pull apart, and the expression on his face tells you how genuine it is. Your smile is almost involuntary, turning up the corners of your mouth and baring just a hint of teeth.

“Welcome home, Matthew,” you reply, “We missed you.” You’re not sure what “we” you’re referring to, but it feels less incriminating than saying “I missed you”. You get the feeling that he understands anyway, beaming at you.

The three of you chat for a few minutes, Matthew introducing you to his little cousin. With there being four of you, you decide to play a game of ladders, to test the little one’s skills. He’s pretty good, for a kid, and you and Brady make sure to throw well enough to convince him that you’re trying, but still let him win. Throughout, Matthew gives him tips and instruction, so kind and gentle that it makes your heart ache. They cheer when they win, high fiving and teasing you and Brady.

You go inside to spend some time with Keith and Chantal. Chantal gives you a big hug, as if she hadn’t just seen you yesterday. Keith gives you a hearty clap on the shoulder. Taryn appears at some point, sneaking up behind you and poking your sides to make you jump. You laugh along with her, enfolding her into the conversation easily.

Time flies by, the sun setting around you, the house lights turning on one by one as darkness descends. Eventually, you end up lounging in the den with the other adult kids. From your visits last year, the chair in the corner has become yours. You’re settled in, legs folded up under you as something that no one is watching plays on the TV. Brady and Taryn get into a heated debate about something or another, and Matthew gives you a long-suffering look as his younger siblings bicker. You just smile back at him, finding the family’s passion entirely endearing.

“Seventeen years of this,” Matthew gripes, clearly not as annoyed as he’s trying to seem.

“And sixty more to go,” you reply. Matthew chuckles at that, looking to Brady and Taryn with such fondness that you almost can’t stand it. It’s the kind of relationship you’d wanted with your own brothers, but that’s best not to think about.

“Hopefully,” Matthew says, turning that fond look toward you. Your heart skips a beat, and you’ve gotten good at ignoring that.

May, 2019

You shouldn’t be this nervous, but you are. Terri is on speaker phone, telling you about her new job. You’re half-listening, staring at the clothing laid out on your bed. You’ve been agonizing all morning about what you’re going to wear, how you’re going to do your makeup, if you should wear makeup at all.

“I’m glad that your boss defended you,” you say to Terri, still tuned in enough to follow her story, “She seems cool.”

“She’s so cool,” Terri gushes, “She’s my favorite now.” You’re so happy that Terri has finally found a good job, especially with how hellish her previous one had been. This one pays almost double what she was getting before, too, which definitely doesn’t hurt. She expounds a little more about the things she loves about her boss, and you decide to hang back up the dresses you’ve laid out. It’s still a little too chilly to wear them, especially after sundown.

“You’re still staring at those damn clothes, aren’t you?” Terri asks, switching the topic suddenly. Your face gets warm as you make a plaintive hand gesture, despite her not being able to see you.

“Clothes are stupid and I can’t decide,” you complain, trying to imagine how each of the final two options will come across. If you try too hard, Matthew might think that you think this is a date, but you still want to look good. You know it’s not a date, but you’re still kind of acting like it is, and it’s embarrassing.

“Definitely wear jeans,” Terri advises, “That’ll make it more casual.” You agree, putting away the skirt you’d paired with the one shirt, trying to picture how it would look with jeans. You move the pants between each shirt, before giving up and just putting them on. You’ll just try on both outfits and see which one you like better.

Once dressed in the first option, you take a picture to send to Terri. You look at yourself in the mirror, turning this way and that. After a minute or two of consideration, you switch tops. You take another picture and send both to Terri for her opinion.

“Oh, definitely the second one,” she says, “The first one makes you look like you’re going to a job interview.” You look at the picture again, and can’t deny that she’s right. You put that one away, settled in your decision. You’re not sure if Matthew has ever seen you in anything but jeans and a t-shirt, so you hope the red tank top layered with a tucked-in sheer pink printed blouse isn’t too much of a change.

When Matthew had invited you to take a walk around the park yesterday, just the two of you. You’ve never spent more than a few minutes alone with him, always having Brady or Taryn or Emma to provide distraction and distance. This time you’ll have nothing to focus on but him.

The time comes soon enough, and you gather your things, not wanting to make Matthew wait for you when he arrives. You’d offered to drive yourself and meet him there, but he’d waved off the idea immediately, saying that he’d pick you up.

A knock comes at your door right on time. You take a deep breath before you open it, settling your frenzied heart. Matthew smiles as soon as he sees you.

“Oh wow,” he says, almost absentmindedly, “You look great.” Your blush is immediate, and you hope he can’t see it. It seems that anything that comes out of his mouth makes you blush, sometimes.

The drive to the park isn’t too long. When you arrive, you gather your bag from the floor of the passenger seat, and by time you move to get a hand on the door handle, Matthew is already opening the door from the outside. It’s a sweet surprise, and you thank him as you climb out of the car.

It’s a nice day, not too cold or windy for once. The two of you walk, talking about this and that, moving from topic to topic as they arise. You point out a few birds as you go, and Matthew listens to the little fun facts you give about them. He seems genuinely interested, but even if he’s not, at least he’s polite enough to pretend.

“I guess we should have left a little earlier,” Matthew remarks as the sun goes down, the light fading around you. The sun sets quickly this time of year, so you’re still a few minutes out from the car by time it’s completely dark. The lights along the pathway bathe Matthew in yellow light, casting warm shadows in the dips and hollows of his face.

“At least I have a big, strong man to protect me,” you joke, elbowing him.

“Oh no, if we get jumped I’m running,” he replies, shooting a shit-eating grin down at you. You gasp and press a hand to your heart, as if you’re truly scandalized.

“You would really abandon me like that?” you ask. His smile softens at the edges.

“Never,” he says, looking so genuine that it makes your heart flutter, pausing before he adds, “Unless we’re getting robbed.” Your combined laughter rings out through the trees.

June, 2023

You’ve managed to avoid any questions about your odd behavior, and it’s getting easier to act normal over time. A couple weeks have passed since your first meeting with Tessa, and you still feel like ripping your skin off when you see her touching Matthew, but you’ve gotten better at hiding it. It’s not your place to be upset, anyway.

The diner is bustling at this time of day, the tail end of lunch rush. You had to wait a little bit to get seated, but now you’re sitting at the end of a booth in a chair they’d pulled up to the edge to make up for all five of you not fitting into the booth. It makes you feel a little left out, the only one not paired off, a fifth wheel to the two couples on either side of the table. You block that out, a skill you’ve had for years, but have had to strengthen rapidly over the past few weeks.

Brady has an arm around Emma’s shoulders, and you can tell by the angle of Matthew’s arm that he has a hand on Tessa’s thigh. You remember when that was you, Matthew touching you so casually, so naturally. Sitting across from Matthew as he nudges your foot under the table, sitting next to him with your shoulders pressed together, fingers tangled together on the seat, where no one could see.

Emma is telling a story about a night out with some of her girlfriends, and you’re laughing along at the antics with everyone else. When she asks you about work, you try to clear the perpetual lump in your throat before answering, succeeding in sounding happy, though the tightness remains.

When your food arrives, you spend most of the time pushing it around your plate to make it look like you’re eating. You never have an appetite around Matthew anymore, weirdly embarrassed about being seen eating in a way you haven’t been since you were a teenager. You’ll take it home and eat it later, if you can stop thinking about Matthew for two fucking seconds.

You’re not sure how long that’s going to be impossible, but you hope it’s not much longer.

January, 2020

You’ve been to a few games when the boys have played the Blues, but you’ve never made the trip up to Canada to see them play each other before. Ottawa is nice, Brady and Emma having shown you around a little when you’d arrived. Your nerves had been shot from the anxiety of traveling abroad for the first time, even though it was just to Canada. The couple seemed to understand, only taking you around for a few hours before bringing you home.

Brady’s apartment is nice, really nice. He’s offered you the guest room for a few days, and you appreciate not having to pay for a hotel. He’ll be home for six days before he has to go to St. Louis for the All Star game, so you’d arranged to stay in Ottawa and fly back home with them.

Luckily, the cafe is pretty cool about rearranging your schedule, so you’ll just have to work some extra days when you go back to make up for what you’re missing. You’d asked for the days of the skills competition and game off as well, Brady having managed to get you a ticket. Your manager has always thought it was cool that you were friends with the Tkachuks, so she had agreed to give you the time off if you brought her a souvenir. Matthew and Brady had offered to sign a jersey for her without you even having to ask, and you’ll owe them for a while, though they insist you don’t.

Matthew gets in that first night, the three of you meeting him at his hotel. You’re not sure how he managed it, but he’ll be staying a few days instead of returning to Calgary with the team after the game. Maybe he got a special exception because this game is the last before All Star week, and he has to go to St. Louis anyway. No matter the reason, you’re glad he gets to stay.

The game the next night is exciting, and definitely worth the trip. With the Senators’ performance in recent years, it’s mostly the diehard fans left, so the atmosphere is electric. You get swept up in the passion and joy, especially when the game ends with a 5-2 win for Ottawa.

The boys have to debrief and get changed, which you know will take a while. Emma and you wait with the WAGs, Emma excited to introduce you to them. Some of them think you’re a new WAG at first, which is honestly kind of flattering. All of the ladies are surprisingly kind and welcoming, and you enjoy interacting with them as you all wait.

Matthew emerges first, guided down the hallway by one of the arena staff. His steps pick up pace when he sees you and Emma, and he shoots a quick thanks to the staff member before jogging over to the two of you. He immediately enfolds you in his arms, squeezing tight and holding longer than usual. You know it’s difficult for him to lose at all, let alone to his brother, so you let him hold you as long as he wants.

Once he lets you go, he meets your eyes. His smile is soft, tinged with a slight sadness that you want to wipe away.

“Hey there, sweet girl,” he greets, and your breath catches at the term of endearment. He’d started using it a few months ago, and it still makes your chest tight. You know that it doesn’t mean anything, but you still imagine sometimes that it does.

He turns his attention to Emma, giving her a hug as well, just one quick squeeze before releasing. The three of you start talking, waiting patiently for Brady. It doesn’t shock you that he takes so long to come out, knowing his unofficial position of leadership in the team. The guys come out one by one, hugging and kissing their wives and girlfriends, the number of ladies dwindling as they leave with their men.

When Brady finally emerges, he heads straight over to give Emma a hug and kiss. He hugs you next, before punching Matthew’s shoulder. They have a little back-and-forth as you all exit the arena, taking harmless jabs at each other all the way to the car.

The main issue with the living arrangements for the trip had been that Brady and Emma were going to have two guests and only one spare room. Matthew had offered to sleep on the couch, but he’s too tall for that, and you don’t want him to end up sore or hurting his neck during the season. You’d insisted that you’d sleep on the couch, but both Matthew and Brady had immediately vetoed that idea. Then you’d found out that the guest room has two twin beds instead of one bigger one, and the answer was simple.

Matthew sets his suitcase and backpack next to the door when you get home. You’ve already claimed the bed on the far side, so he gets set up on the one closer to the door. Emma and Brady are in the kitchen, making a post-game snack for everyone, so it’s just you and Matthew.

“You excited to be roomies for a week?” he asks, unzipping his suitcase. Yours is already open under the window, so you grab some pajamas out of it.

“Depends how loud you snore,” you tease. He shoots you a toothy smile.

“Oh, it’s gonna be loud,” he says. You chuckle a bit, knowing he’s joking. Emma calls for you, then, and you leave your clothes on the bed to go to her. The four of you converse as you eat, seated in a row at the kitchen island. You’ve got Matthew to one side and Brady to the other, and they take turns kicking your ankles. You kick back, grinning at Emma when she kicks Brady’s other side.

Brady and Matthew had already showered at the rink, so they sit in the living room while you and Emma get ready for bed. She uses the master suite, and you use the bathroom in the hall. It’s nice, if small, with a simple stall shower instead of a tub. You go through your routine on autopilot, only realizing when you’re done that you’d left your clothes in the bedroom. You wrap yourself in a towel, doing your best to sneak past the door to the living room.

When you look to make sure your stealth is working, you meet Matthew’s eyes. It stops you in your tracks. You can’t discern the look on his face, and you’re not sure that you care to. He shoots you an easy smile, and you wave at him like an idiot, acting on instinct. It only makes him smile wider, and you scurry off to the room.

After you’re dressed, there’s a knock on the door. Brady asks if you’re decent, and you confirm that you are, so he peeks his head in. Once he sees that you truly are dressed, he opens the door the rest of the way. He and Emma bid you good night, telling you to just ask if you need anything. You thank them and say good night in return, Matthew entering the room as soon as the other two retreat to their own room. He’s barely two steps into the room before he’s pulling off his shirt.

“Woah there, cowboy,” you say, holding up a hand in front of you. He just shrugs at you.

“Gotta get ready for bed,” he says, bending over and lifting his foot to remove his socks. You’d figured that he would wear a t-shirt and shorts to bed like you, but you should’ve guessed he’d be the type to sleep shirtless, no matter who’s around. He’s naked in front of thirty people every day, who cares about being shirtless?

You do your best to brush it off, turning down the covers of your bed so that you can crawl in. Normally, you would read for a bit before bed, but you’re tired enough tonight that you don’t think you need to. You pull the blankets up to your chin, turning on your side. Unfortunately, you sleep on your right, so you end up facing Matthew’s bed. Is that weird? Should you try sleeping the opposite direction?

Matthew doesn’t say anything, flicking the lights off and crawling into bed. He sleeps on his left, apparently, so he’s facing you too. That’s a little awkward, right? As your eyes adjust to the dark, you’re able to see the glint of his teeth as he smiles over at you.

“Sleep well, sweet girl,” he says quietly. You return the sentiment, grateful that the darkness means he probably can’t fully see the embarrassment on your face. You’re backlit by the window, so you convince yourself that he can’t.

The next morning, you wake to Matthew already out of bed, stretching. Your eyes roam his back, taking in the dips and ridges of his muscles. Only at the last second do you realize that his head is turned to the side, and he’s staring at you through the corner of his eye. You quickly avert your gaze, turning to sit bolt upright on the other side of the bed, facing the window.

The four of you spend the day exploring the city, Brady and Emma seeming to have planned what they want to show you. It’s nice, peaceful and fun. You make them take pictures with you in front of landmarks or cool art pieces, all of you squished together to fit in the selfie.

It isn’t until the fourth night that anything out of the ordinary happens. You’re lying in bed, having turned on your back to stare at the ceiling, unable to sleep. You probably shouldn’t have had that affogato after dinner, though usually they don’t bother you this much. No matter how long you toss and turn, how many sleeping positions you try, you can’t even make yourself tired, let alone actually fall asleep.

“What are you, a rotisserie chicken?” Matthew asks rhetorically, breaking the silence. His voice is hushed, but it still startles you. You turn your head to stare at him, finding him staring right back.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, sheepish, “I can’t sleep.” Matthew’s lips quirk up at one end.

“Me either,” he says, sitting up. You mimic his posture, then scoot back to lean against the headboard. He slings his legs over the edge of the bed and stands, and you think for a second that he’s going to turn on the light. Instead, he takes the two steps to your bed, motioning to the mattress. You nod, prompting him to start shoving your shoulder, bullying you into making space for him. You giggle, trying to keep quiet to respect the late hour.

“So,” he leads, taking a long moment to just stare at you before continuing, “Tell me something I don’t know about you.” You’re taken off guard by the request, not sure how to respond.

“I was an Aaron Carter girl growing up,” you pull out of thin air. Matthew’s face breaks into a wide smile, sunshine in the middle of the night.

“Really?” he asks. You nod, mumbling “yeah” in confirmation. That’s all it takes to get you both talking. You trade off back and forth, telling each other small things about yourself that may not come up otherwise, launching into short discussions about some of the statements.

“My favorite color is red,” he says at one point, when you’re starting to think you may fall asleep.

“I thought it was blue?” you reply, remembering Chantal mention that at some point. Matthew starts fiddling with his hands.

“I tell people it’s blue, but it’s really red,” he says. You tilt your head an inch or two, furrowing your brow at him.

“Why?” you ask. He ducks his head.

“Red is an angry color,” he explains, voice quieter than before, “With my reputation, I don’t want people to associate me with an aggressive color. I don’t want to play into the stereotype.” You hum, looking forward. It feels like this isn’t the best time to look at him, like he’ll clam up if you witness his vulnerability.

“It’s also the color of vitality, excitement, love,” you counter, leaving just a breath of a pause, “It’s a good color for you.” The entire room is still for a dragging moment, before Matthew gently knocks your shoulders together.

“What about you?” he asks when you look back to him. There’s a fraction of a change in his face, but you don’t comment on it.

When you wake up in the morning, you’re still sitting up, head resting on Matthew’s shoulder, his head laying on top of yours. You suppress the instinct to startle, not wanting to disrupt him, lest he wake up and move. His skin is warm under your cheek, your arms lined up from shoulder to the knuckles of your fingers. You close your eyes again, trying to keep your breathing steady, as if you’re still sleeping. You’ve been trying so hard to keep distance between Matthew and yourself, but you’ll allow yourself to enjoy this, just for a moment longer.

There’s a shift in Matthew’s breathing, his fingers twitching against yours. It settles after a second, into a different pattern, intentionally deep and even. You’re sure that he’s awake, that he’s doing the same thing that you are. You’re not sure what to do with that information.

The rest of the trip goes by smoothly, Brady and Emma showing you both the touristy things and the better local spots around the city. If the same thing happens the next night, and the night after that, you and Matthew talking in low voices until you fall asleep against each other, neither of you mention it.

April, 2020

While the initial prediction for lockdown was that it would only last a month, it’s clear that it’s going to last much, much longer.

It’s probably lucky that you’d just started a new job, one that can be done remotely, rather than either working at the coffee shop or being laid off. It’s not exactly what you want to do, but it’s at least in the artistic field, so you try to be grateful anyway. It’s difficult being locked away in your apartment, but you’re grateful that you’re luckier than essential workers and people who are losing their jobs altogether.

The thing that keeps you sane in all of this is your phone. More specifically, it’s your friends. You’ve developed almost a schedule with it, calling Terri in the morning for an hour or so before work. At lunch, you facetime Brady and Emma for another hour, not envying them being stuck so far from home. It must be hard to be in an entirely different country than your family.

The highlight of each day is the evening, when you facetime Matthew. Though he spends most of the day sending you videos and memes and updates about whatever little thing he’s doing at the moment, it’s still nice to talk to him out loud. Seeing his face helps your growing loneliness a little bit.

You’re in your living room, your phone propped up against the arm of the couch as you show off the few things you’ve made since picking up crochet a couple weeks ago. Matthew compliments each of them, commending you for your improvement. He’s the only one you’ve shown, too embarrassed to let anyone else see the wonky scarves with uneven stitches.

“You have time to work on any paintings lately?” he asks, once you’re done your little show and tell. The truth is that you’ve got three new canvases drying in the kitchen. The truth is also that the man asking about them is the inspiration for their creation. There’s nothing incriminating about them; it’s not like they’re portraits of him or something. But you’re still hesitant to show him, because even if he doesn’t know, you do.

You show him anyway. The painting of the park is his favorite, and you wonder if he knows that it’s the one you went to for your first time alone together. It’s mostly dark, greens and blues so deep they look black, yellow triangles of light splitting the canvas into section. If you look closely enough, the brush strokes fill in the details of the trees, the grass, the pavement. Your phone camera isn’t good enough for Matthew to see that, but he compliments it anyway.

“You should paint me something for my apartment,” he says after you show him all three. You’re not opposed to the idea, actually enjoy the thought of something you made being showcased in his home.

“What do you want?” you ask, a hundred ideas already flitting through your mind. The only way you’ve seen his apartment is through the background of pictures he sends you sometimes, or little glimpses you catch as he walks around while you facetime. You’re not entirely sure of the vibe, but you’re sure you can figure something out.

“What makes you think of me?” he asks in return. You stop in your tracks in the doorway between the kitchen and living room. The hand holding your phone lowers a couple inches unintentionally, your gaze drifting above the screen, staring into the middle distance. What makes you think of him? Hockey, obviously. Family. Curling up under a blanket on a cold night. Laying on the couch with your feet up on the armrest, your head propped up on a pillow, a sad replacement for his lap. Spruce trees, gold, pitbulls, mushroom pizza, black eyes– both the drink and the wound.

Everything. Everything makes you think of him.

You can’t say that, obviously. You search your brain for something personal but innocuous, something sentimental but still acceptable. You think of all the time that you two have spent together over the past few years, memories springing up, some that you’d even forgotten about. Some that you’ll never be able to forget about.

“Can I surprise you?” you ask. You’re given that familiar smile in response, any iteration of which makes your heart stutter in your chest.

“Yeah,” he says, propping his face up with one hand on his jaw, “I trust you.”

July, 2023

Some people may say that Terri’s apartment is cluttered, but you just find it cozy. She has decorations and knick-knacks on every surface, but the comfiest couch you’ve ever sat on. That’s where you are now, stretched out with your back against the side, Terri mimicking your posture at the other end, your legs tangled together in the middle.

“We should see the Barbie movie when it comes out,” she says, unprompted. You look up from the hook and yarn in your hands, tipping your head to the side for a second and shrugging.

“It looks good,” you say, an indirect agreement. You haven’t been to the movies since before lockdown, so it might be nice to go back.

“D’you think Gabe would want to come?” she asks cautiously, “He could bring the kids.” The mention of your brother still makes ice crawl in your chest, but it’s not as bad as it once was. He’d reached out last year, trying to reconnect with you, and apparently your other brother too. You’ve only seen him a few times since, but it’s more than you’d seen him in the four years prior, combined.

“It’s worth a shot, right?” Terri asks, eyes flicking toward your phone sitting on the coffee table. You look toward it as well, debating for a second. It would be nice to see your nieces and nephews, but it also hurts that they barely know who you are.

“Yeah,” you agree after a second, “Worth a shot.” You grab your phone, feeling as if it’s going to explode in your hands if you move too quickly. There are a few notifications when you wake the screen, which you ignore to unlock it. You open your texts, backing out of your thread with Terri from earlier. You have a picture message from Brady, just a selfie of him and Emma smiling, which you send a heart in response to. Backing out of that thread, you see another new message, underneath the contact name you haven’t had the heart to change. The red and purple hearts next to his name– each of your favorite colors– having been there so long that getting rid of them feels wrong, no matter how it makes your chest hurt to see them.

Can we talk?

You tap the back button as quickly as you can. You can’t respond. You should, to be polite, but you can’t. If you do, you’ll say something you regret. It’ll probably be agreement or the words “eat shit”, and either option will get you into trouble. You can’t respond. You want so badly to talk to him. You want so desperately to go back in time and never meet him.

Your fingers tremble as you draft a text to your brother, typing and deleting and re-typing a few times before you settle on the wording. You have more important things to worry about than Matthew.

August, 2020

The bubble was an interesting idea. It may not be the best idea in the world, despite the safety precautions, but you know Matthew is just happy to be back on the ice. He’s already sent you a dozen pictures of the hotel, of him with his teammates and friends, masked up together in the lobby. You tell him to tell the boys that you say hello, and he texts you each of their responses.

The first round goes well, the Flames only losing one game to the Jets. You know Matthew had been worried about going through all the rules and protocols just to be eliminated immediately, so you’re glad that that isn’t the case.

The series against the Stars starts out with an exciting back-and-forth, the teams trading off wins. Then the Stars win game 5, breaking the pattern. You’re not expecting the last game to actually be the last, convinced that the Flames would at least make it to a game seven. But the Stars pull a decisive 7-3 win, the Flames falling apart in the second period and unable to get themselves back together.

Matthew has called you as soon as he got back to his hotel room after every game, so you’re expecting your phone to ring some time in the next hour or two. You putter around the apartment a little, putting away some dishes and wiping down the kitchen counters. You’d been painting during the game, a commission from a friend of a friend of a friend. You return to that, losing yourself in the meticulous movements of your brush.

It feels like it’s been too long. You try to focus on the canvas in front of you, but there’s a nagging sense in the back of your mind that something is wrong. It sits heavy at the base of your skull as you try to ignore it.

Eventually, it becomes too much. You check your phone to make sure that you haven’t missed his call, but there are no notifications. It’s been a little over two hours. You unlock your phone and pull up his contact in a second, pressing the video icon. Typically, he’ll pick up after one or two rings, but you hear the third ring, the fourth. The call disconnects, shock shooting up your spine. It only lasts a second, your phone ringing with a voice call almost immediately.

“Hey sweet girl,” Matthew greets you in his typical fashion as soon as you accept the call. There’s something off about his voice, and it takes you a second to realize what it is.

“Hey there, darling,” you respond, voice as gentle as you can manage. It’s not the first time you’ve heard Matthew cry, but it breaks your heart every time. As much as he tries to seem tough and aloof, you know how deeply losses like this affect him. Now it makes sense that he didn’t want video involved.

“How are you?” he asks, clearly moving his face away from the receiver as he sniffles, but you can still hear it. You move to the couch, sinking into the cushions, as if you’re as crushed as he is.

“I’m okay,” you reply, “You holding up okay?” You know he’ll say that he’s fine, but you also know that he’s not. He may not be for a while. There’s a pause, a long stretch of silence, only interrupted by his deep, labored breaths.

“I wish you were here,” he says. He sounds absolutely miserable, his voice cracking in the middle of the sentence. The urge to hold him is overwhelming, your arms buzzing with the desire to wrap around him. You want to pull him down into your lap, let him tuck his head into the crook of your neck, let him cry on you as you scratch his scalp and kiss his head. Lockdown isn’t the only reason that can’t happen.

“I’m going to hug you so hard,” you insist, “As soon as I can see you again.”

July, 2023

While you’re still a third wheel with Brady and Emma, it’s better than being a fifth wheel with the entire group. You’d asked Taryn if she wanted to tag along, but she has training to do. Brady had already done his that morning, so he’s free for the rest of the day, and had invited you to spend some time together.

You’re certain that he doesn’t know how you feel about this place, how much it hurts to be here. As far as he’s aware, this is your favorite park, the one you visit with Matthew at least a few times a month every summer. He probably thinks it’s a great choice, something to cheer you up from the slump you know he’s noticed.

Despite the memories tugging at you from every direction, you’re mostly in a good mood. You’d gotten excellent news the day before yesterday, an opportunity you’ve dreamed of for a long time. You wanted to text Brady right after the meeting to tell him, but you’d decided it was better to share it with him and Emma in person. You’re debating something that absolutely doesn’t matter, all of you talking over each other. You’re waiting for the right moment to change the conversation. It doesn’t come until almost an hour into your walk, but you jump on it as soon as it does.

“I have some cool news,” you say, breaking the silent pause that had fallen over the group.

“Well?” Emma replies, “Go on.” The excitement is bubbling up inside of you again at the thought of it, your stomach turning, your chest too full.

“You know that gallery downtown that I love?” you ask, continuing after they agree, “I’m going to do a show there.” They stop in their tracks, Emma immediately enfolding you in her arms. You hug her back, squeezing tight as she bounces on her toes. When she pulls back, she holds your face in her hands, voice high and thrilled as she congratulates you. The smile on your face is unavoidable, happiness from the news mingling with the happiness of your friends being proud of you.

“Cool news, huh?” Brady asks, lightly smacking your shoulder as he says, “What an understatement.” The circle of his arms feels safe, his chest warm against your cheek as he holds you tight. The look on his face when he releases you is the best reaction you’ve gotten so far, his pride meaning more than anyone else’s.

“When is it?” he asks, taking Emma’s hand in his own once again and resuming the walk. You follow along, too excited to be self-conscious of the visible skip in your step.

“August 20th,” you say. There’s an unspoken question there, a silent invitation. You don’t want him to feel pressured to come, knowing that despite how supportive he is of your artistic endeavors, he’s not big on things like art shows. In the end, you don’t have to ask.

“You know we’re coming, right?” he asks, aiming a crooked smile at you, “You can’t stop us.” Though the smile hasn’t left your face since you brought up the topic, it gets brighter in return.

“I’d never dream of trying to,” you reply, and you mean it.

October, 2020

It’s odd to have the boys around at this time of year, the season usually taking them away at the end of August. You’re grateful for it, though. It means that you get to spend time with them, lockdown finally over, freeing you from the confines of your apartment. Your job has stayed remote, so you’re able to be around even more, saving time on what used to be an hour long commute each way.

Right now, it’s you and the boys, Emma, and Terri. You’d introduced her to them less than a month ago, but they already love her, just as you knew they would. She doesn’t always come around with you, considering how you spend nearly every day at the Tkachuks’, but she has some time today.

After twenty minutes of debating what you should watch, you all agree on a true crime documentary. You’ve given up your chair for Terri, squishing yourself onto the couch with Brady and Emma, pressing your cold feet against her leg and laughing when she yelps. She kicks you, only serving to make you laugh harder. Brady playfully threatens to fight you to defend his woman’s honor, and you put your fists up in front of you, jabbing out into the air as if you’re going to take him up on the offer. He chuckles, reaching out to fist bump you instead of punch. You drop your hands, looking past his big ass head.

Matthew is lounging in the second chair, the leg rest of the recliner up despite his legs being crossed under him. It’s the only way the chair will lean back, he’d told you once, and he doesn’t like sitting upright.

The smile on his face isn’t the wide grin you’d expected. It’s small, a gentle turn of the lips. Combined with the look he’s giving you– something unfocused, something unbearably soft– it implies an emotion that you know can’t be the correct interpretation. You swallow hard, turning your eyes back to Brady.

“Press play already, nerd,” you demand, tone playful enough to show that you don’t mean it. He sticks his tongue out at you, but does as he’s told.

Five minutes in, you glance over at Matthew, finding him already looking at you. You look away, slightly embarrassed to be caught. Another five minutes later, you can’t help but peek back at him again, as if your eyes are magnetized to him. It’s almost disappointing that he’s actually looking at the screen. It only takes a second for his eyes to move to the side, peering at you in his peripheral. The corner of his lips quirks up the tiniest bit, almost unnoticeable. But you notice.

You only make it maybe half an hour into the film before Matthew leans forward and snatches the remote from its place next to Brady. The plaintive sound Brady lets out is kind of funny, but you seem to think everything is funny today. Matthew pauses the show, declaring that the group needs snacks.

“Y/N, come give me a hand,” he says, beckoning you to follow him. You grumble a bit, but stand and follow him up the stairs and out of the den. He leads the way through the living room and into the kitchen. They’re fancy, so they have a walk-in pantry, of course. The two of you enter one after another. You start looking at the snack section, deciding what to grab. The good thing about being the one to retrieve the food is that you get to choose whatever you want and there’s nothing the others can say about it.

You’re rifling through the chips and pretzels when you feel a presence close behind you. It’s obviously Matthew, but he’s so close that you can feel the heat of his body radiating into your back. His left hand comes into your field of vision, pressing to the shelves next to your head. You twist your neck to look back at him, confused as to what he’s doing.

You’re not expecting the look he’s giving you. His eyes dark, completely focused in on your face. Your eyes flick from his eyes to his mouth without your permission. He’s not smiling, his lips parted just a fraction of an inch.

He rests his right hand on your shoulder, using it to turn your entire body around to face him. You can feel how dumbfounded your expression is as you stare up at him, your brow furrowed, your mouth slightly agape. He returns the gesture of looking at your mouth, his tongue quickly flicking out to wet his lips. He looks like he’s about to eat you alive. You would let him.

There’s a long, unbearable stretch of silence as the two of you just stare at each other, faces only a scant few inches apart. If this were anyone else, you would know exactly what’s going on, exactly what they want. But this is Matthew, your insanely wonderful, insanely hot, insanely out of your league friend. There’s no chance that he’s about to do what it feels like he is. No matter how many times you steal glances at each other, how closely he holds you, how many times he allows himself to be vulnerable with you, there’s no chance he’d ever want you. And just as you tell yourself that, he speaks.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, his breath brushing across your lips from the proximity. Your eyes go wide, your mouth falling open wider in shock. You’ve spent the last two years valiantly suppressing any type of attraction you have to him, trying to respect his station as your best friend’s brother. And now, in just four words, he’s let it all loose. It floods you inside, so overwhelming, so much to take all at once that it triggers a full system reset. You swear your heart stops, your mouth opening and closing as you struggle to tear the words from your lagging brain.

The words won’t come. The look on Matthew’s face is changing, something embarrassed, something guilty. He moves back an inch and you reach out, unwilling to let him go. You cup his face in your hands, pulling him in to press your lips together.

It’s lingering, almost chaste, and entirely sensational. Your lips are tingling, sparks shooting down your spine. Your chest feels cracked open, your innards exposed for his inspection, your true self exposed for his judgment.

When you pull back and open your eyes, his are still closed. He looks like he’s in heaven, like he’s trying to imprint this moment in his mind the same way that you are. After a moment, his eyelids slide up and he looks at you again. His eyes are hazy, unfocused, his blown pupils leaving only a thin ring of blue around the edge of his iris.

“Again,” he says, breathless, “Please.”

Who are you to deny him?

The second kiss is as good as the first, your breath abandoning your body to pant out against his lips. You meet again, his tongue flicking out for half a second to touch your top lip. It makes you breath hitch, makes you kiss him again, makes you gently bite his full bottom lip. The sound he lets out is barely audible, but it only feeds the fire inside of you, an inferno that blazes up from your hips to your throat. You cradle his face in your hands, hold just strong enough to move his head how you want, to slot your mouths together perfectly each time.

“Hurry up, asshole!”

Brady’s shout violently snaps you out of your haze. You jerk backward, trying to step away, but already pressed against the shelves. Matthew doesn’t seem as put off as you, smiling as if nothing happened. You relinquish your hold on his face, dropping your hands to your sides. His hands had wandered as you kissed, one on your waist, the other on the back of your neck. He squeezes once at the base of your skull, dipping in to give you one last quick kiss.

After frantically grabbing random snacks, you return to the den. You can feel how hot your face is, and you can only hope that it’s not too obvious how flustered you are. You and Matthew deposit the snacks on the coffee table, everyone immediately selecting one. You curl back up in your chair, legs pulled up to your chest as you lay sideways, head on the armrest.

Every time your eyes drift to Matthew for the rest of the evening, he’s looking back.

January, 2021

Just as the day the boys come home is the best day of the year, the day they leave for the season is the worst. Sometimes you wish you were Emma, that you could follow them back and forth and never be without them. But St. Louis is your home, is where you have a job and friends and more recently, family.

You’d helped both boys pack for the past few days, but you won’t be able to go along to drop them off at the airport. When Matthew had left for the playoffs, Emma had offered you her spot in the car. You’d told her that she didn’t have to, but she’d assured you she wanted it that way. She has to go along this time, so the car is already overpacked. Besides, you have to work that morning anyway.

You still show up at the Tkachuks’ beforehand, so early that the sun hasn’t made an appearance yet. Matthew had forgotten to pack his favorite sweater, of course. You fish it out from where it had fallen under his bed, straightening up to hold it out to him. He thanks you, deciding to wear it for the flight instead of shoving it into one of his bags. It looks good on him. Cozy.

Brady and Emma are double checking their room as well, one door down from you. Keith, Chantal, and Taryn are down in the living room, waiting as patiently as they’re capable of, which isn’t very much.

Being alone with Matthew used to be exciting, used to make your heart change its rhythm, used to start up a buzz under your skin. Now, it’s just… comfortable. Safe. Right.

When Matthew approaches you, crowding up into your space, you know exactly what he wants. The first time you’d kissed should have been the last. You’re too drawn to him, feel too much toward him, more than you should. More than he will ever return. The two of you haven’t discussed exactly what you’re doing here, but it’s clearly meant to be casual. Matthew isn’t typically the kind to shy away from voicing what he wants, and he hasn’t spoken up to define anything.

Is that what you want? You’re not sure. Making out like teenagers for months has been nice, has satisfied a part of you. But only a part.

You’re avoiding thinking about what you want, too afraid of what you’ll find. Some part of you, buried deep inside, hidden behind a recently built wall, already knows. If you allow yourself to acknowledge it, this will end badly. If you allow yourself to want, you’ll destroy yourself in the process.

The kisses he lays on your lips stay sweet, gentle presses, just a tease of tongue here and there. His arms are wrapped around you, resting on your shoulders, while your hands rest on his hips. You haven’t progressed past kissing, and you’re not sure if he wants anything beyond this. You’ll take what you can get.

Keith calls up the stairs for you to hurry up, lest the boys miss their flights. Matthew leaves one last peck on your lips, just as he always does before you part. You glance around his room a final time, making sure everything is packed. You help him bring his bags downstairs, help him and Emma get their things outside and into the car. You’ll have to go home as soon as they depart, and you’re actually a little grateful that you have work to distract you from the first hours of missing them.

As per usual, Emma is the first to hug you. You squeeze tight so that you can lift her off of her feet for a second, just to make her laugh. Brady grabs you next, as if both of them know that Matthew wants to be last. Brady wiggles you side to side, planting a kiss on the top of your head. You headbutt his shoulder, then kiss the same spot you’d hit. He says how much he’ll miss you, something he always reiterates for a few days before he leaves. You return the sentiment honestly, earnestly. When he pulls back, you punch his chest lightly, and he returns the gesture.

Matthew steps up and opens his arms, and you step into them easily. He doesn’t squeeze too hard, just holds you close, hand cupping the back of your neck, calming your anxiety and dulling the sharp edge of your pain.

“Gonna miss you so much, sweet girl,” he whispers into your hair, just loud enough for you to hear. You try to swallow the lump that has suddenly formed in your throat.

“Miss you already,” you reply, a little uneven, a little raw, “Can’t wait to see you again.” He places a kiss on your head as Brady had, but his lips linger, hesitant to let go. But he does let go.

They all wave as they drive off, Brady, Emma, Matthew, and Taryn all crammed into the back seat. You wave back, watching the car go, staring down the street even after the car turns and disappears.

Time to work, you suppose.

July, 2023

Art has never frustrated you so much in your life.

When you were young, the struggle and annoyance came from trying to get things just right, though they were above your skill level. As a teenager, it was due to the struggle of developing your own unique style. In college, it was not having the energy to paint most days, falling asleep at the easel others.

For the past month, the art has been flowing. You’ve been painting most every day, the ideas coming easily, creating almost a compulsion that you can’t resist. It’s only satisfied when the painting is complete. There are a couple dozen or so canvases scattered around your apartment to dry, the most you’ve ever produced in a single month. But the frustration– the frustration comes from the fact that all of your ideas are about him. All of your paintings are moments with him, things he’d said, how you’d felt, how you’d hoped he felt.

There’s a feeling inside of you, as if you’re right on the edge of catharsis, as if you paint just one more thing, you’ll be able to let it all go. That’s your motivation for everything you’ve been making, just desperately searching for the release that will save you from the pain. At this point, you’re not sure it will ever come.

You’re working on a bigger canvas, the biggest you’ve used in years. You’re glad your current job allowed you to move into a bigger apartment, because you surely wouldn’t have been able to fit something like this in your old shoebox, packed so full of your things that you’d barely had space for an 11x14. You have to stand to reach the upper portion, swiping a brighter red over the dark red base. You don’t want it to be about him. It is anyway.

The show at the gallery is rapidly approaching, only a month away. You’ve been working with the curator to decide which pieces to use, filing through years of work. So far, everything that she’s found compelling has been about him. Things you’ve made recently, things you made years ago when things were still good. One day, you’ll get over this. But not today. Today still just hurts.

June, 2021

With neither of the boys making the playoffs, they’d come home earlier than usual this year. Sadly, Brady is pretty used to it by now, usually coming home around this time anyway. You’re used to getting a few weeks with Brady and Emma before Matthew comes home, but you don’t have that this year.

While Brady sulks for about two days when he gets home, Matthew is far more upset. The Flames had made the playoffs for the last couple years, and he was getting used to being a contender. So not even getting a chance at it this year clearly stung. He moped around for a week or two, face tight and arms crossed over his chest most of the time. The only time he let his arms down, let his guard down, is when the two of you were alone.

You’d comforted him through the couple weeks of upset, even staying the night a few times. It wasn’t intentional, you’d just stayed so late that you fell asleep, and Matthew didn’t have the heart to wake you. You have to get up early to get home for work, so you’d snuck your way out of the house before anyone else had woken. You’re not sure how Keith and Chantal would have felt about you staying the night in Matthew’s bed, but you know what they would have thought was going on, and you didn’t want to put yourself or Matthew in that position.

Once he’d relaxed, taken a deep breath and accepted defeat, he went back to being his regular happy, seemingly aloof self. You’re grateful for it, not a fan of seeing him upset and always wanting to help him through and cheer him up.

June had come kindly, bringing along more sun and nicer weather. You and Matthew had resumed your walks in the park, and the whole group of you spend about as much time outside as you do in the den. Things with Matthew had picked up where they left off in January, him pulling you into a secluded area any time he could get you alone, kissing you senseless. You’d missed the feeling of his lips, of his body pressed to yours.

Tonight is one of the more rare nights where Matthew comes to your apartment, instead of you going to his parents’ house. You’ve offered to make dinner and follow it up with movies. You’re already on the couch, your dirty dishes abandoned on the coffee table. You’re laying on your side, Matthew spooned up against your back, your knees hanging off of the couch with the way they’re bent to accommodate Matthew’s too-long legs. You’re warm and comfortable, enjoying the feeling of safety that he brings, something you’ve very rarely felt in your life before.

The movie is good, but you’ve found that being in Matthew’s arms makes you sleepy, so you’re having a hard time focusing. You manage to mostly follow it, letting out a jaw-cracking yawn when the credits start to roll.

You feel Matthew place a kiss on the back of your neck without comment. Then he’s moving you, rearranging your bodies carefully until you’re on your back, Matthew staring down at you from his position straddling your thigh. The way he’s looking at you is intense, somehow simultaneously fond and hungry. It wakes you up almost instantly, and you reach out to rest your hands on his thighs.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says quietly, reverently. It’s not the first time he’s said it, but it feels different now. Maybe it’s the position you’re in, maybe the way he’s looking down at you as if he wants you, as if he–

He takes your hands in his own, bending down as he brings them up to cradle his cheeks. You run your thumbs across his high cheekbones, tilt his head up a little by the jaw as his eyes slide shut. You press your fingers into the soft spot behind his jaw, under his ears, pull him down, down, down.

Kissing him feels as easy as breathing. Guiding his head this way and that to get a better angle, pressing your lips together over and over, longer each time, deeper. Matthew has one hand on the arm of the couch to hold himself up, the other wrapped loosely around your wrist. He’s not trying to move you or take control, just holding on as if he needs something to ground him. You press your thumbs into the hollows of his cheeks, feeling the solid wall of his teeth under the skin. His mouth drops open and he lets out a soft sound. You press your thumbs in harder, between the new gap between his upper and lower teeth, testing how far you can push from the outside.

He squeezes your wrist once and you release the pressure. His mouth stays open, lips wet and shining. He opens his eyes halfway, as if his eyelids are too heavy to get all the way up, eyes hazy and unfocused.

Again, he squeezes your wrist. He’s suddenly standing, using his grip to guide you up as well. He immediately crowds up against you, as if being more than an inch away will kill him. His eyes have managed to refocus, but there’s still a dreamy look in them.

He takes a step backward, using the hand that had instinctively gone to the back of your neck to bring you with him. He kisses you, lingering. He takes another step back, gives you another kiss. He rounds the end of the couch and you realize where he’s leading you, kind of impressed that he can find his way to the bedroom without even looking.

Of course, your heart is a frantic mouse scurrying around your chest, thumping hard like you’re a prey animal facing down a predator. But as much as it freaks out in the cage of your chest, there’s no panic in your head. Being with Matthew calms your mind, keeps your hands from trembling, feels so right that you can’t find a reason for the anxiety that used to plague you around him.

He stops you halfway between the door and the bed, pulling back a couple inches to stare down at you. You’re hesitant to put a name to the look on his face, not sure if reverent is being dramatic.

You flatten your palms against the front of his shoulders, shoving him gently, bullying him toward the bed. He allows it for a moment, but stops after a few steps. He takes your hands in his own, brings them to his mouth to kiss your knuckles. You try to swallow down the desire that grows inside of you, threatening to spill out. He holds your hands close to his face, enough that you can feel his lips move when he speaks.

“You don’t have to be in control, sweet girl,” he says, lays another kiss on the bump of your right middle finger, looks deep into your eyes with such adoration you feel ready to split at the seams.

“Let me take care of you,” he says. The part of you that’s spent your entire life with a fist clenched desperately around any sense of control that it could find, for the first time, relinquishes its hold. And Matthew does, indeed, take care of you.

February, 2022

It’s your first time in Vegas, and the atmosphere is electric. There are hockey fans everywhere, plenty of people wearing jerseys as they explore the strip. Everything is so big, so bright, so fancy. As exciting as it is to be here, it makes you feel a little off, a little like you don’t belong. It reminds you of the first time you’d been to the Tkachuks’ house, amazed at how different everything is from the way you grew up.

Each player was supposed to be allotted two tickets, but they had allowed Brady to take additional tickets for his family, considering Matthew is his brother, in addition to how well-known and beloved Keith is. He’d managed to get Emma included as well, luckily.

You weren’t sure how he did it, but Brady had gotten another player to give one of his tickets so that you could come. Apparently the guy’s family couldn’t make the trip, and he only had one friend that he really wanted to bring. He won’t tell you who it was, but the way that Timo Meier winks at you as he passes the stands gives you an idea. You weren’t aware that the two talked, but there’s always the possibility that he had just gone around and asked everyone. The idea makes something bloom in your chest, as if you could love Brady more than you already do. You’ll have to find a way to thank Timo some time.

The skills competitions are fun, though Brady doesn’t win anything. It’s nice to see the players relaxing and having fun, a well-deserved break from the stress of the season.

You all go out to an early meal before the games the next day. You don’t realize until you arrive that Jack Hughes and his family were joining you, and you trip over your own feet when you see them waiting for you. You’re a huge fan of Jack’s, but more than that, Ellen Weinberg-Hughes is an icon. You stumble with your words when you greet her, shaking her hand and screaming silently in your head. With how the boys are looking at you as you do so, they obviously anticipated your reaction and are incredibly satisfied with themselves.

For the meal, you’re sat between Matthew and Jack. You’re grateful that Matthew is next to you, needing his calming presence as you meet some of your favorite players. The families are friendly with each other, the parents catching up on the news of each others’ lives, the children doing the same in separate conversations.

You spend most of the dinner talking to Jack, Quinn, and Matthew. They tell you all sorts of things, including embarrassing stories about Matthew that you weren’t privy to. You grin at Matthew every time they share one, absolutely intending to tease him about it later. This seems to be what the Hughes boys want, eager to give you more ammunition. Matthew buries his face in his hands at one particularly humiliating story, even as he shakes gently with quiet laughter. When he emerges and sits back up, you take a chance, placing your hand on his thigh. You squeeze once, trying to reassure him. He does his best to not react, but he also rests his hand on top of yours under the table.

“So you’re a painter, right?” Quinn asks at one point, curiosity evident in his perpetually sleepy eyes.

“Yeah,” you confirm, asking “How did you know?” You’d told them about your official job, but you hadn’t mentioned being a traditional artist in addition to a graphic designer. Jack turns a smug smile on you.

“Matthew talks about you a lot,” he says, pleased with himself. You look to Matthew just in time to see his face flush.

“Shut up,” he says to Jack, which only makes him smile wider. Jack’s attitude rubs off on you a little, and you give Matthew a delighted smile.

“How much is a lot?” you ask Jack, feeling Matthew dig his fingertips into your knuckles.

“Like, a lot,” Jack replies, Quinn nodding from his other side. You look back to Matthew, who looks like he wants to crawl under the table and hide.

“I talk about him a lot, too,” you say. That makes Matthew look at you again, bright eyes nearly sparkling in the restaurant’s dim lighting. His expression shifts, a small, grateful smile scrunching his eyes up the slightest bit.

After dinner, you all make your way to the arena. Brady and Jack left a while before the rest of you, needing to arrive in time to get dressed and likely do some more media. Before he’d left, Jack had requested your phone, creating a contact for himself and inputting his number. As he dud, you turned your face away, toward Matthew, opening your mouth wide as if you’re screaming. He looked amused at it, but there’s a sharp edge there. Quinn took the phone next, doing the same thing. You squeezed Matthew’s thigh again, and his expression softened. You’ve been following the Hughes brothers since they were in Juniors, and having them like you enough to want to keep in touch– you can only describe the feeling as elation.

The lines are out the door at the arena, and a few people catch the boys to request photos before you can get to the special entrance for players’ guests. They’re all very kind and courteous about it, taking a few pictures with people, finding a way to move through the crowd even as they do so. You probably should have come a different way, or maybe gotten there earlier, but as long as the boys don’t mind, you don’t either.

The seats are good, the second row of the first balcony. It seems to be the section that they put all of the family and friends, people milling around and chatting with each other. You spot Johnny’s parents a couple rows away, the only people around that you’ve met before. You wave to them and they return the gesture. They make their way down to your seats, greeting each of you in turn. They start chatting with Keith and Chantal, so you continue talking to Taryn and Emma.

The games are great, surprisingly fast. The Atlantic division plays a great game again Central, despite losing by 3. You still can’t help being proud of Brady. You’ve been next to him since his first season, and you’ve loved getting to watch him grow and improve. As long as he’s in the world, you’re going to be proud of him.

The final is awesome too, and you jump up to cheer when Jack scores in the first. When the Metropolitan wins, you high-five Taryn, glad that Jack could win when Brady couldn’t. Not a bad consolation prize.

The group hangs around for a while after, and you get to meet a bunch of new people. Everyone is so nice, making you feel welcome, feel like you belong. When you finally start up the stairs to leave, Johnny’s mom Jane stops you for a second. She pinches your jersey and gives you a sly smile.

“Just a family friend?” she asks, not a question but a suggestion. A few years back, Matthew had given you one of his jerseys to wear to a game, and you’ve worn it tonight, despite him not playing. You realize now how it could be interpreted, ducking your head for a second to smile at the floor, before looking back up to Jane.

“Just a family friend,” you say, firm and definitive. She holds your gaze for a moment, looks behind her at Matthew, who’s waiting patiently a few steps up. He’s looking at you, that soft look he gives you sometimes. After a second, he smiles brightly at Jane. She waves and turns back to you.

“We’ll see,” she says. She pats your shoulder twice before making her own way up the stairs with Guy. Once you process the statement, you shake your head and make your way up to Matthew.

“What was that?” he asks as you enter the corridor. There’s no way you can tell him the truth, and honestly, you’re not sure what the fuck that was either. You just shrug at him, continuing your way out of the arena.

The comment sticks with you, no matter how you try to brush it off. Johnny is Matthew’s best friend, and you’ve met Jane a few times before. If it had been a stranger, you would’ve dismissed it outright. But to hear it from someone who actually knows the two of you? That’s harder to let go.

July, 2023

Laurel, the curator for the gallery hosting your show, is a lovely woman. She’s also very, very good at her job. You’ve been to countless shows at this gallery, and they’re always perfectly compiled, excellently arranged. You’ve brought her your most recent paintings today, which makes you glad that you have a car, because hauling them through the city would be a nightmare.

The only problem you have with Laurel is that she seems to see straight through you. You’re not used to someone looking past the professional figure you present, let alone someone seeing every part of you that you put into your art.

She’s staring at your offerings, examining every last detail. She’s already chosen about half of the pieces that will be displayed, creating a theme with your relatively impressionist style. She moves one canvas to the side, away from the others. She takes an extra few minutes to consider one of them, the largest one. It just finished drying yesterday. Having to see it every day as you passed it in the living room has been torture.

“Everything except that one,” she says, gesturing to the one she’d set aside. If she wants all of these, that’s likely going to be everything for the show. With everything else she’s chosen, this is all they have the wall space for, considering the way that you’ve seen Laurel arrange the art in previous shows you’d attended.

“That one is the centerpiece,” she adds, hand against her cheek as she continues staring at the large canvas. You swallow hard. Of course. Of course every painting she likes is about him. Of course the centerpiece will be him. No matter what you do, you’ll never escape him.

She asks a bit about your inspiration and motivation for the piece, and you give her vague answers that sound more philosophical than the real thing. The two of you discuss some of the minutiae of the show, trying to get everything finalized ahead of time. There’s less than a month left, and your excitement is starting to pair itself with dread.

When you get home, you go straight to your bedroom and throw yourself face first onto your mattress. You bury your face in a pillow, finally letting out the scream that’s been stuck in your throat since you learned of Tessa’s existence. It helps.

You make and have dinner, barely aware of what you’re eating. At least you can eat without getting nauseous now. You don’t feel like watching TV, probably wouldn’t be able to pay attention to a real show right now. Instead, you sit on your bed, leaning back against the headboard. You scroll social media mindlessly for a while, the ghost of Matthew next to you, his invisible arm pressed against yours.

February, 2022

Despite your better judgment, the first time you and Matthew had slept together wasn’t the last, either. It had continued through last summer, then again when he’d come to play the Blues. Now you’re in Calgary, in Matthew’s apartment for the first time, in his bed again.

A lot of people idolize the first time they sleep with someone, comparing every subsequent time to the first and often coming out disappointed. You had no reason to do so, because the sex only got better over time. As you and Matthew learned each other’s bodies, figured out what got the best reactions, the sex kept improving. Even if you wanted to fall back on your morals and resist him out of respect for Brady, you know you couldn’t stay away for long. It’s irresistible.

And it’s not just the sex. It’s the way he holds you after, lays on his back so that you can rest your head on his chest. It’s the way his breath ruffles your hair as you fall asleep together. It’s the things he says to you.

It’s the nights like this.

You’re in Matthew’s bedroom, the dark dead of night offering only the moon to light the room. Your head is on Matthew’s chest, his arm around you to keep you close, as if you would ever willingly leave. Your breathing had returned to normal a while ago, your body cooling off and beginning to recover from the rush of feeling. Matthew kisses the top of your head every so often, and you return the sentiment by tilting your head to lay kisses against his sternum.

“I wish I could keep you here forever,” he says, so hushed that you almost miss it. He’s always so quiet when he talks like this, as if he’s afraid to say it. He says these kinds of things anyway, but never above a whisper, not willing to share the vulnerability with anyone but you. Again, you press your lips into his skin.

“I wish I could stay here forever,” you reply. It would be nice, wouldn’t it? To stay here, with him. No need to be quiet so as not to wake his family, no having to sneak out in the morning, no work to keep you away. Just laying here, together.

“I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you,” he says. There’s desire in his voice, of course, but also earnesty, like he really means it. Part of you would like to believe that he does, but another part knows how important it is to not get caught up in the fantasy. It’s easier said than done.

“Not any of the other girls you’ve had?” you ask. You’d meant for it to come out teasing, but your honest curiosity wins out. Then there’s a hand on your chin, fingers gently guiding your head up until you’re looking Matthew in the eye. It’s not exactly comfortable to crane your neck like this, so you prop yourself up on one forearm, resting the other hand where your head had been as you stare down at him.

“Never,” he replies, insistent. He looks so serious, sounds so sincere. You don’t say anything, can’t think of anything. There’s something in the wide roundness of his eyes that speaks to you, pulls you in, encourages you to search deeper. It takes a second to figure out what it is that’s hiding in there, but… it’s fear.

“I never want this with anyone else,” he says, tangling his fingers with yours over his racing heart. There’s a question you want to ask, something you’ve been wanting to ask for a while, but the fear in him has mirrored itself within you. You should just shut up, keep it to yourself. The words come out before you can convince yourself to stay quiet.

“What is this?” you ask. You’re not sure what answer you’re expecting, but you know which one you’re hoping for. He takes a deep breath, exhales slowly. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and for the first time, you don’t divert your gaze to admire the sheen of them, unable to look away from his eyes.

“I don’t know,” he says, pauses, presses your entwined hands harder to his chest, “But I never want to give it up.”

May, 2022

Again, Matthew is the second to come home. Brady returned almost a month before in April, the Senators not in the playoffs, as usual. You feel bad sometimes, because Brady is genuinely a great player, but his team has just struggled to gel together. Even through all of their trials, Brady insists on keeping hope. He loves his teammates, and that’s what really matters to him.

Matthew, on the other hand, isn’t so great at dealing with failure. The Flames make it to the second round, which is an achievement all on its own. But after winning Game 1, they’d lost four in a row and been knocked out. It feels to Matthew almost like they got swept, he explains over the phone after the final loss.

When he gets home, he once again spends a week sulking. You mimic what you’d done last year, though staying the night is intentional this time. So long as you sneak out before anyone wakes up, you’ll be fine.

On the eighth day, you tell Matthew for the hundredth time how proud of him you are. He shoots you a bittersweet smile and says that he’s proud of himself too, and you know he’s bouncing back. It doesn’t help that he’s been debating for months whether to re-sign with the Flames, an agonizing choice for him. He loves his boys, but he’s not sure he belongs there anymore. You’ve assured him that you’ll support him no matter what decision he makes. Johnny hits free agency next month, and if he moves, you’re not sure that Matthew will have the motivation to stay.

The next couple of weeks go by the same way that they always do, with you spending as much time with the Tkachuks as possible. At least, you think you’re doing a good job of acting like everything is the same as years past. No one knows about you and Matthew, and it seems like he wants to keep it that way. You like having this little secret life with him, getting to have him all to yourself. You’re okay with the way it is, you convince yourself.

June came quickly, having begun only four days after he’d returned. The weather improves, you and Matthew once again resume your walks in the park. You play yard games and watch trash TV with Brady and Emma. You help Chantal cook dinners, help Keith clean up afterward. Everything is back to the summer standard.

The day had been nice, sunny and warm. The light had turned the leaves of the trees golden during your walk this afternoon. The sun is long gone now. Nighttime has become your favorite part of the day, the only time you get to indulge in whatever it is that you and Matthew have. The only time you get to touch his skin, to hear the low sounds he can’t help but make, to feel his warmth against you, inside you.

It’s been some time since you’d finished, but you can’t quite fall asleep. Matthew is spooned up against your back, face buried in the nape of your neck. You’re not sure if he’s asleep or not, too distracted to bother trying to figure it out. You’ve been thinking about it since your visit to Calgary. Any time Matthew called, or texted, or even crossed your mind, you thought of it. It made your heart leap into your throat, your breath catching as you choked on it.

He doesn’t know what you’re doing together, what you are. He didn’t give the response you’d been hoping for, but he didn’t outright deny it either. Sometimes you think it would have been better if he had, if he’d said that it was just sex. Then you could start working on moving on. You wouldn’t have to lie awake at night, wondering.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his groggy voice making you startle and snapping you out of your head. You take a deep breath, debating yourself for a couple seconds before you decide.

“Nothing,” you reply, patting his forearm where it’s snaked around your waist, “Go back to sleep.” He takes a quick, deep breath, the air rushing out over your skin. You’re helpless to resist when he starts moving you. If you did put up a fight, push back against his hands, you know he would stop. But you’re tired.

“What’s wrong?” he asks again once you’re flipped to face him. He looks tired too, the exhaustion of the season still lingering. The moonlight paints his face in silver. It makes his skin shine, almost glowing in the darkness.

“I’m afraid,” you say. You wish he hadn’t turned you around. It would be easier to speak it into the wall than it is to say to his face. You say it anyway, watching his brow furrow, admiring the way the silver light adds contrast to the wrinkles the expression creates.

“Of what?” he asks. You could make something up. Telling him that you’re afraid of monsters under the bed would be less embarrassing. You’ve never been very good at lying to him.

“The day you move on,” you whisper, invisible pressure on your throat making the words come out tight and unsteady. The surprise on his face surprises you in return. He’d refused to put words or labels to whatever this is, of course you would think that he’s going to leave eventually. You’d have to be an idiot to think that he means it when he says forever.

“I won’t,” he says, resolute. You can only manage a half-smile for him.

“You’re not the first man to say that,” you reply. He reaches up and cradles your cheek in his wide palm, warmth seeping into your skin.

“But I’m the first one to mean it,” he says. You close your eyes. They begin to prickle at the corners, but you refuse to cry about any of this. He’s so adamant, so steadfast in his insistence. You try to remind yourself of what this isn’t, what it will never be, but you’ve never trusted someone the way you trust him, and you can’t help believing him anyway.

August, 2023

You hadn’t anticipated this happening, let alone how hard it would be, but finally, finally it’s a little bit easier.

You’re not over Matthew, not by a long shot. It’s going to take months, years. It may never happen, who knows? As long as you can cope with it, can keep your friends around, that’s all that matters.

The first half of the day was spent with both boys and their girls. You didn’t have to curl up so tightly on your chair, didn’t have to force words out so they didn’t think anything was wrong. Conversation was relatively easy, topics changing and flowing naturally. You’d smiled, laughed, and a couple of times you actually meant it.

Matthew had apparently planned a date for Tessa and himself, so they excuse themselves in the late afternoon. Brady, Emma, and you stick around the den for a bit, continuing to talk. Eventually, Emma stands, stretching dramatically.

“Let’s go for a walk,” she suggests. You’ve spent too much time lately sitting at an easel or curled up in bed, and a walk sounds like a great idea.

You expect it this time when Brady takes the three of you to the same park. It’s easier when you’re not blindsided by it, and you have the lovely memory of the last time you were here with the two to focus on, instead of Matthew. You walk for a while, music playing softly from Emma’s phone, tucked in her back pocket. Once you’re deep into the wooded area of the park, she stops dead in her tracks. You follow suit, spinning around to shoot her an inquisitive look. She takes the two steps forward to close the space between you two, grabbing you by the shoulders and walking you backward. You stumble, trying to look behind yourself to keep from falling. She pushes until the backs of your knees hit a bench on the side of the pathway and you fall onto it. You gape up at her, befuddled by the behavior and the way her arms are crossed over her chest.

“What’s going on,” she demands, not a question. You furrow your brow, at a loss for words. You know what she’s talking about, and you know that she knows that you know. But why would she wait until the day that it starts to fade, the day that you can finally think of something else, to ask you about it?

“C’mon, Y/N,” Brady says, plopping down on the bench next to you, “We know something’s wrong.” You had accepted the possibility of this back in June, but you weren’t expecting it to take almost three months for it to happen.

Your first instinct is that you absolutely can’t tell them. You’ve been keeping this secret for years, and if Matthew has his way, you’ll keep it forever. If Matthew gets his way, you repeat in your head. That’s it, isn’t it? All this time, you’ve been so focused on what Matthew wants that you ignored your own wanting. What do you want?

You want to tell someone, to finally have this horrid pain out in the open instead of keeping it caged up around your heart. You want your best friend and his wife to hug you. You want them to understand.

“Matthew,” the name tumbles out, and you don’t want to stop it. Brady and Emma are still looking at you, waiting for anything you want to tell them. God, Brady is your goddamn best friend and you’d convinced yourself that you couldn’t tell him something? That there was anything on this earth that he would shun you for?

It all comes spilling out in a rush. Everything from the first time you’d met him. Hell, some information that isn’t strictly necessary, but they don’t interrupt you or complain, so you venture on. It takes long enough to recount that Emma sits on the metal armrest of the bench. Brady’s holding one of your hands in his lap, Emma taking the other to do the same.

You’d promised yourself more than once that you wouldn’t cry about this, but you don’t really care enough to stop yourself now. The tears come two-thirds of the way through, falling silently as you recount some of the things Matthew had told you, the things he’d promised you. You’re not outright sobbing, so you manage to power through the rest of the story. Your eyes are squeezed tightly shut by the end, like closing them will block out the memories.

It takes a couple of minutes for the tears to stop. The three of you let the silence hang as you wait for it, nothing but the leaves rustling in the trees, something scurrying in the bushes. When you can safely open your eyes to face the world again, you look over to Brady. He looks devastated.

You watch his evolving emotions morph the expression on his face, from heartbreak to anger and back again. The anger makes your heart skip a beat, suddenly afraid that maybe the whole “I slept with your brother” thing will be a problem after all.

“Do you want me to kick his ass?” he asks, startling a laugh out of you. You know he’s dead serious, too. Part of you thinks it might be cathartic to see Matthew get beat up by his little brother, but your soft heart doesn’t want anything bad to happen to him. After everything he’s done to you, you still don’t want him to have to feel even a fraction of the pain you do.

February, 2023

This year, the boys don’t have to bribe anyone else to get you to the All Star Game. Each of them is allotted two tickets as per usual, but Taryn is too busy with school to come. She’d aimed a satisfied smirk at Matthew through the camera of her phone, saying guess you’ll have to take that one along as her eyes darted slightly to the left, clearly looking at where you were on the screen.

Since your work is remote, you’ve brought along your laptop. You spend the morning of the skills competition working, still averse to using your PTO if it’s not completely necessary. The boys have to do media, so there’s no one around to bother or distract you. You kind of wish there were.

The special skills competitions are as fun this year as they were last. You especially love Sidney Crosby in the dunk tank, seemingly having the time of his life. You may not know him personally, only having met him once in passing, but after everything he’s been through, you think he deserves some carefree fun.

The sun has set by time you emerge from the arena after the regular skills competitions. The days are shorter at this time of year, even in Florida. It is warmer than St. Louis, though, which you’re grateful for.

Jack is in the competition again this year, so you meet up with the Weinberg-Hugheses again that night. You’ve gotten much closer with Jack and Quinn over the past year, building relationships on texts and calls and dinners when they play the Blues. Luke has tagged along this time, and you get on with him just as well as his brothers.

Matthew shoots Jack a look when he slings an arm around you on the way back to your hotels after dinner, but Jack just grins at him. You’re still not sure what that’s all about, but you’re just going to stay out of it.

The games the next day are fantastic. You’ve never gotten to watch both of your boys win at once, and you love it. When the Atlantic wins the whole thing, you cheer so loudly your voice cracks. Emma laughs at you, but you just laugh along with her.

You stick around for a bit after the game again, Keith and Chantal mingling while Emma shows you the decorations she’s planning for the wedding on her phone. After a while, someone taps you on the shoulder from behind. You turn your head, immediately recognizing Jane. Johnny had made it again this year with his new team, so it would make sense that she’s here too. You stand, reaching up to hug her in her elevated position.

“Matthew got you a new jersey?” she asks, referencing the All-Star jersey you’ve got on. You wish you could say that you bought it for yourself, but it had indeed been a gift from Matthew. It shouldn’t be embarrassing, so you act like it’s not, even though it is.

“Yeah, he’s a great friend,” you reply, shrugging, “He likes to take care of me.” The thing about Jane is that she’s not really a jerk. Sometimes the you-and-Matthew comments bother you, but she’s generally a very sweet woman.

“It’s good to have someone like that,” she says, smiling gently at you, “Matthew is a good boy.” Jane had been at enough Flames games for you to know her, and definitely enough for Matthew to become a pseudo-son to her. They don’t interact much anymore, save for when she pops up in the back of Johnny’s facetimes, but you know she still has a soft spot for him. You don’t blame her.

“He really is,” you agree, nodding. The two of you make some small talk, and you get some updates on Johnny’s new life on the Blue Jackets. You give her some updates on Matthew in return. After a bit, Guy shuffles up next to Jane, telling her that it’s time to go. She acknowledges him quickly, turning back to take one of your hands in her own.

“I know he takes care of you,” she says, patting the back of your hand with her second, “But you take care of that boy, too. Okay?” You just nod, smiling and bidding her goodbye. Her and Guy retreat up the steps and out of view. You’re not sure why she feels the need to say these things to you, and you’re not sure why you take them to heart.

You meet Matthew and Brady outside the player entrance, the boys immediately scooping up you and Emma, respectively. Matthew sweeps you off of your feet for a moment, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. Once you’re free, you start to dip forward, realizing what you’re doing at the last second and changing track to make sure the kiss lands on his cheek.

He beams at you, and you’re absolutely certain that you’ll spend the rest of your life trying to make him smile.

April, 2023

The day Brady comes home is the best day of the year, you remind yourself for the thousandth time. You’re excited to see him, you are. The way your chest has felt rent open for days isn’t his fault in any way. You’re not going to make him pay for being the messenger.

Once you all get the couple home, you go upstairs with Brady and Emma to help them unpack. They don’t really need help, obviously, but it’s an excuse to spend time together. Brady talks a little about the season, but mostly focuses on his plans for the summer. He talks about wanting to go see G, maybe even take a trip out to visit Tim.

For the most part, you just fold clothes and listen. Eventually, they switch to the topic of the wedding, Emma showing you even more pictures. She’d asked you to be a bridesmaid forever ago, so you’ve already seen most of it, had even helped her pick half of it out, but you’re never going to squash her excitement.

Exhausted from their travel, the two make their way down to the den after everything is put away, collapsing onto the couch. You curl up in your chair, allowing the couple to choose what you watch. They pick something or another, nothing that you can pay attention to right now. Instead, you find yourself examining Brady, picking apart his features, finding all the things he shares with Matthew.

It’s the best day of the year, you remind yourself again. The light of the TV highlights Brady’s jawbone and your skin crawls.

August, 2023

The show is going exceptionally well, exceeding your expectations. The space is filled with strangers, friends, and even your brother and his family. There are critics and collectors, some that you’ve seen at other people’s shows, some that you don’t recognize. Everyone wants to talk to you, and you don’t get a spare moment to breathe for the first few hours.

When you do get a chance to exhale, the rich couple that had been occupying you finally walking away, you catch the color out of the corner of your eye. You’ve been all around the building all night, mingling and networking in equal measure. You hadn’t realized where you ended up until right this second. You turn to the piece, staring as if you’d never seen it before.

You don’t need to look over to see who steps up next to you a minute later.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Matthew says. It doesn’t feel like an accusation, though it is one. All you can do is sigh.

“What did you expect me to do?” you ask, not expecting an answer. You glance at his hands out of the corner of your eye, noticing the wine glass in one hand, water glass in the other. Without a word, Matthew holds the water out in your direction, still fixated on the painting. You take it, feeling odd that not only does Matthew know that you forget to drink enough water, but also that he’s still trying to take care of you.

“It’s me,” he says after a pause. You’re both facing the largest canvas, the centerpiece. Swirls of bright red spread across a crimson background, highlighted with orange, accented with a royal purple. There, in the center, are two comparatively small, even circles of icy blue.

“They’re all you. Or about you, at least,” you say, seeing no need to deny it any longer, “About us.” It’s obvious that Matthew hadn’t expected you to admit it outright, thrown off for a minute by the admission.

“Can we talk?” he asks as you take a sip of water.

“We’re talking right now,” you reply, feeling petty. It’s his turn to sigh. He sets his wine glass down on the nearest horizontal surface before returning to your side, facing you this time.

“Somewhere private,” he clarifies, pauses, “Please.” You may be mad at him, enraged, incensed, but you’ve never been able to deny him anything, and you still can’t, even now.

You shut the storage room door behind you, flicking on the light to chase away the darkness. Matthew has his hands shoved in his pockets, looking around as if there’s anything interesting in here. You cross your arms over your chest, waiting for him to nut up and look you in the face.

“Listen,” he begins, rubbing the back of his neck but still not looking at you, “I know I should have gone about this better.” You snort. No shit. The sound finally brings Matthew’s gaze to meet your own.

“I’m sorry, okay?” Matthew says, motioning with his raised hand, “I didn’t think you’d care that much.” You can feel how incredulous your expression is, and you don’t even try to hide it.

“In what world would I not be upset?” you respond, “After everything?” You can hear yourself, know you sound like a bitter, jealous old ex, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows and looks away again. When he looks back, there’s an almost pleading look in his eyes.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he says, more sincerely than the first time, “You shouldn’t have had to find out from Brady.” You avert your gaze, working your jaw for a second before you raise your chin and square your shoulders.

“No,” you agree, “I shouldn’t have.”

“I’m sorry I stopped talking to you,” he says, motioning helplessly with his hands, “You have to know how hard that was.” You shake your head, almost disgusted.

“Imagine how hard it was for me,” you reply. Your fingertips are digging into your own arm, fingernails biting into the skin. The fact that he would stand here and imply that this was a struggle for him– as if he expects you to offer sympathy– makes your stomach churn. The guilt in his expression makes you sickly satisfied.

“Listen,” he leads with that word again, as if he has any right to ask it of you, “I didn’t want to upset her. You know how some girls are.” You do know. And it’s still not an excuse.

“You didn’t tell her about me,” you say, anger and hurt straining your voice, “You said that I was just Brady’s best friend. You didn’t even tell her what we had.” You want to scream it at him, just want to scream in general. Maybe if you did, if you released your tight grip on control in a different way than you had with him, maybe it would make him understand.

“What did we have?” he asks. His voice is quiet, just as yours had been when you’d brought up the topic all those months ago.

“I don’t know,” you say, turning his own words back on him. It’s true, anyway. You’ve never known what any of this was. You’d only known what you wanted it to be, what you stupidly, fruitlessly hoped for.

“We never dated,” he replies, voice still low but seemingly not bothered by the uncertainty, “We never called it a relationship. You were never my girlfriend.” It’s a simple fact. It tears your heart out of your chest.

“Just because we didn’t name it doesn’t mean it was nothing,” you insist, squeezing your eyes shut for a second to push down the urge to cry before admitting, “I stopped dating.” He looks even guiltier at that, but it doesn’t soothe anything in you.

“I didn’t look at another man,” you continue, embarrassed and ashamed but unable to let him continue through life without knowing, “I didn’t even want to look at anyone else.” The shame makes the fiery anger burn brighter.

“I gave you three years of my fucking life,” you say, voice raising just enough to make Matthew flinch. You keep it reigned in enough that no one outside will hear, not interested in sharing this conversation with anyone else, especially not potential business contacts. The flames engulf your chest, lick up at your throat, threaten to consume you.

“I never asked you to do that,” Matthew replies, solemn. Your jaw drops, just half an inch, enough to part your lips as your breath hitches. He never asked. He never fucking–

“You–” you begin, breath catching in your throat as your eyes burn with tears you refuse to let escape, “Everything you said, everything you did, and you expected what? For me to just move on?” Your nails are digging so deeply into your biceps that you’re surprised they haven’t drawn blood. Matthew doesn’t respond right away, and you can’t tamp down the impulse to be petty.

“But I guess that’s what you did, huh?” you jab. Matthew shuts his eyes tightly, fists clenching like he wants to fight. It should be threatening, but you’ve always known that he would never dream of laying a finger on you in violence. But then again, you’d thought you knew a lot of things about him.

“Why do you care?” he asks, shoulders tense as he opens his eyes to stare you down, “You don’t even want me.” That shocks a laugh out of you, so completely ridiculous that you can’t help it.

“That’s the most fucked up part– I do want you,” you respond, simultaneously an answer and an admission. His brow furrows as he continues looking at you, as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“Did you seriously think I didn’t?” you ask, more of a demand, slightly offended because, “Do you think I said all those things for fun? For shits and giggles?” You can’t read his expression, don’t even bother trying. He can feel whatever he wants. That’s not your concern anymore. All you care about is the cold spreading through you, crawling up from the tips of your fingers, freezing your arms, creeping into your chest and beginning to extinguish your rage.

“I loved you, dickhead,” you continue, the words spilling out of you starting to sound pathetic, no matter how hard you’re trying to hold on to the anger, putting the last grasp of it into the words, “Stupid fucking idiot asshole, I loved you.” Matthew gapes at you, hands going lax at his sides. His jaw moves as if to say something, but nothing comes out.

“I loved you and you threw me away like garbage, and didn’t even have the balls to tell me yourself,” you force the sentence out, feeling like you’re choking on every syllable. Matthew’s breathing stutters. You’re expecting annoyance, irritation, maybe even shame or guilt. You’re not expecting his wide eyes, his eyebrows turned up in the middle, his slack jaw.

“You loved me?” he finally asks after a few agonizingly long seconds of silence. There’s something in his voice that you tell yourself you don’t care to analyze.

“Of course I did. How could I not?” you say, huffing as you look upwards, needing a momentary break from this staring contest, “The pathetic part, the part that makes me hate myself, is that I still do.” It’s physically painful to say, no matter that the hurt is psychosomatic. You’ve spent the last few minutes breaking open your ribcage, one bone at a time, revealing to him the space you’d made for him inside of yourself.

“You love me?” he asks, so dumbfounded that he’s repeating himself.

“Yes, Matthew,” you say, facing up to the dread inside of you, the one fact you’ve been struggling with the most since you’d found out the news.

“And I’m terrified. Because I’ve always loved you,” you pour out, barely able to hold yourself together as you meet his eyes, “And I’m afraid that I always will.” There’s not even space for half of a breath before Matthew speaks.

“Please do,” he says. His hands are open, palms facing your direction, as if pleading.

“What?” you ask.

“I didn’t know,” he says, and apparently he’s decided it’s his turn to reveal himself, “I was surprised that you wanted anything to do with me at all. But then you kissed me, and I spent the next three years waiting for you to leave.” The confusion comes over you so quickly that it almost masks the hurt.

“Why would I leave?” you ask. There’s been nothing subtle about your feelings. You’ve told him that he’s the only one you want, that you want to spend the rest of your life by his side, that he’ll always be the only one. How could he hear all of that and think that you would ever leave?

“Because you’re smart and kind and funny and hardworking–” he starts listing off.

“Tessa is all of those things too,” you cut him off. It doesn’t come out as resentful as you would’ve expected a sentence like that to. As you’ve told Terri, you really have nothing against Tessa. Besides, she really is everything he’s saying.

“But she’s not you,” his response comes immediately, emphatically, “I don’t want just anyone like that; I want you, and you happen to be that way.” You’re stunned into silence.

“It’s not the traits, it’s you,” he says, insistent, like he’s trying to convince you of your own worth, “And I kept waiting for you to find someone else, someone who wasn’t hotheaded and self-centered and–” He stops himself, swallowing so hard you can see his throat stutter under the thin skin of his neck.

“Someone better,” he finishes. The thing is that Matthew doesn’t have low self-esteem. He knows he’s a catch, and yet… And yet, he’s standing here, admitting that he’d still thought of you as being so far above him that you could never want him. And it’s not that there isn’t probably someone out there better than him–

“I never wanted someone better,” you tell him, voice almost a whisper. Growing up, you’d created this picture of the perfect man, told yourself that you’d find him one day, would never settle for less. Then you’d met Matthew, and he was nothing like that imaginary ideal. He was flawed; he was real. And you couldn’t help but love him for it.

“And I never wanted anyone else,” he replies, his own voice hushed to match yours, but no less certain, “I still don’t.” Three months ago, you would’ve given anything to hear that. But things are different now.

“I thought that if I went and found someone like you, someone close enough, that I could fall for them too,” he confesses, shame making his face tense, “I thought that if I stopped talking to you, if I kept my distance, that I could get over you.” A fraction of the anger buds in your chest at the idea.

“So you’re using Tessa,” you accuse, instantly offended on her behalf.

“No!” Matthew denies emphatically, pauses, shakes his head, “Yes. Maybe. I don’t know.” If he is using her, at least he seems ashamed about it. Something in his posture makes you think he isn’t, that he really thought he could love her.

“Look, she’s great. She’s amazing. She’s too good for me, too,” his shoulders have been hunched up to his ears, but they fall now, defeated, “She talks about that spark she felt when we met, the way she feels about me now, and I want, I really want to feel that way too. It would be easier if I could.” Believing this entire time that he truly loves her has been hell for you, but it’s still somehow worse to know that he doesn’t. That he did all of this, hurt you so deeply, for someone he doesn’t even love.

“As much as I’ve tried, I don’t. And I can’t,” he says, turning his gaze to the floor, “And if I’d ever thought that I had the slightest chance with you, I never would have dated her to begin with.” All these years, all those words, all the touches you’ve shared, and he’d still never taken you seriously. It’s not your fault, you know. But you realize now that for every time you’d indirectly confessed your feelings to him, he’d said the same things back. He’d returned every sentiment readily, easily. And as much as he’d apparently had the same idea as you, that the other could never love you back, you hadn’t seen it either. You’ve been just as ignorant of his feelings as he was of yours, just as deep in denial. And now there’s this rift between you, a deep chasm that keeps you apart, all for no reason.

“So, what now?” you ask. There’s nothing else to ask.

“What?” he seems genuinely confused.

“What now?” you repeat, too tired to be upset anymore, “You break her heart? Or do you keep pretending? Fake your way into a wife and kids and a house in the suburbs?” His confusion persists, tongue darting out to wet his lip the way it always does when he’s anxious.

“I thought–” he shakes his head the tiniest bit, as if he can’t believe what’s happening, “I mean, I love you. I want to be with you.” There’s a sadness sitting heavy in your chest, only getting deeper at his words.

“I love you too,” you say, tipping your head an inch to the right, perfectly aware of how melancholy your smile must be, “But you hurt me, and now you have to hurt her too. I thought you were better than this.” You’d thought the world of him. You don’t hate him now, could never force yourself to. But you are disappointed in how everything has played out.

“I thought you didn’t want better?” he says, not really a question. Your lips turn up another centimeter at that.

“Listen,” you say, turning the word back on him. You inhale deeply, exhale slowly. He stays quiet.

“The opportunity of a lifetime is on the other side of that door,” you gesture vaguely over your shoulder, then let your arms relax, your hands fall to your sides, “I don’t know what to do with any of–” you give another vague gesture, “--This.” The devastation is writ clear on his face, telegraphed by his posture, bared in the forefront of his miserably beautiful eyes.

“Out there?” you say, smile still in place, “I know exactly what I want. So I’m going to go get it.” you pause, take another deep breath, “And maybe you’ll be there tomorrow, and maybe you won’t.”

“I will,” he jumps in. You huff an almost-laugh.

“We can figure this all out later,” you say, sure a definite, “For now, I have to focus on the things that I’m sure of.” He nods, looks at the floor, raises his head and looks back at you.

“Did you used to be sure of me?” he asks, an uneven, shaky whisper.

“Yeah,” you say, your entire being feeling so heavy that you can barely hold yourself upright, “I used to be.”

September, 2023

While Brady had departed yesterday, Matthew doesn’t leave until tomorrow. It took some internal debate, but you’ve decided not to go along to drop him off at the airport. His family will think it’s weird if he doesn’t hug you, and you’re not sure if you can handle him touching you yet.

You’re curled up on the couch with a book, letting yourself get lost in the story. A knock comes on the door and you startle. You mark your page and stand, rounding the couch to open the door. When you do, Matthew is standing there.

“Hey,” he greets, giving you the same bittersweet smile you’ve become accustomed to over the past few weeks. You’d given him a key to your apartment right after you’d moved, but you appreciate him not using it right now. You welcome him in with a gesture of your hand, turning to lead the way. You get four steps away before he speaks.

“I broke up with Tessa,” he blurts out. He doesn’t seem happy about it, but he doesn’t seem particularly sad either.

“Why?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest, “You’re that sure that I’ll take you back?” The anger comes and goes as it pleases, and it’s starting to sneak through the space between your ribs.

“No,” Matthew says, looking so unbearably fond of you, “I think you’ll tell me to get fucked.” Some days you want to.

“Then why did you break up with her?” you ask. Part of you has been wondering if, despite everything he’d said, he would stay with her. You’re not sure you would have been able to keep the conversation to yourself if he had, but you would have at least tried.

“Because none of this is fair to her,” he answers, shrugging, “She deserves someone who feels the same way about her that she does them. Someone who’s obsessed with her. She doesn’t deserve to be settled for.” You examine his expression, his stance, and realize that he’s truly being honest. He genuinely wants the best for her.

“How’d she take it?” you can’t help but ask. It makes him grin down at the floor for a moment.

“Honestly?” he asks when he raises his head, “Not great. Could have been worse, though.” As much as you love Matthew, you would have been proud of Tessa if she had slapped him.

“Probably should’ve been worse,” you reply. He grins again, tilting his head as he admires your face.

“Probably,” he agrees. For long moments, you both stand still, eyes locked.

“What now?” you ask, the same question as a couple weeks ago. He shrugs again, but he doesn’t seem as miserable or desperate as he had at the gallery.

“I don’t know,” he replies, that same phrase that you’re still trying to make peace with, “I know what I want. Same thing I’ve wanted this entire time. So I guess it’s up to you.” After three years of him encouraging you to give up control, to let go and follow his lead, he’s handing you the reigns now. However this ends or continues is completely your decision.

“You leave tomorrow,” you say, though you’re both viscerally aware of the fact.

“Yeah,” he gives you the crooked smile that had captured you the first time you’d met, “Don’t suppose you want to come with me? The winter weather’s nicer in Florida.” You let out a breathy chuckle, shaking your head at him.

“If you’d asked me that last summer, I probably would’ve said yes,” you admit. You kind of expect him to react with sadness, but you prefer the hope that blooms on his face.

“Maybe I’ll ask you again next summer?” he suggests, offering you the option. At this point, you have no idea where your relationship will be at this time next year. You don’t know if you’ll even have a relationship, of any kind. But if he’s willing to try, so are you.

“Yeah,” you nod, smiling wider than you have in a long while, “Next summer.”

June, 2024

The Hughes brothers are a funny trio. Seeing Jack’s upbeat, outgoing energy bookended on each side by two reserved, perpetually exhausted brothers is always kind of funny. You’d run down the pavement from the Tkachuk’s door to the driveway when you’d seen Quinn climb out of the car’s driver seat, immediately sweeping him up in a hug. The boys had decided to road trip around this summer, so of course you’d strongly suggested that they visit you.

You help them haul their bags out of the trunk, taking Luke’s backpack in hand and insisting on carrying it in for him. The three of them had started teasing you the instant they saw that Matthew hadn’t come out with you.

“Come on, I heard him at the All Star game,” Jack pesters, voice taking a mocking edge as he croons, “Sweet girl.” You laugh brightly, stopping the careful steps you’re taking backwards up the pathway to the house.

“We weren’t dating, I swear,” you insist. Plenty of people over the years have accused you of dating Matthew, but at least he’s funny about it. He stops in front of you, lifting his chin and giving a shit-eating smile.

“Wait, weren’t?” he asks, “As in, past tense?” You feel heat begin to crawl up your face. You’d intended to tell them, of course, but not the second they got here.

“Yeah,” Matthew calls from behind you, and you twist around to watch him close the space between you, “Past tense.” Jack’s glee is overt, but you can see the little signs of happiness on the other two boys’ faces too. Matthew lines himself up against your back, wrapping his arms around you, the gaudy Cup ring on his finger glinting in the light.

“Hey, sweet girl,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss into your hair. You can’t see him, but Jack’s smug face makes you sure that Matthew is staring straight at him. “My sweet girl,” Matthew says. It might be the best thing you’ve ever heard.

[changbinsboiledegg]

haiiiii

i was wonder if you could do a skz reaction when they tell their other members that you and him have sex?

like Han being so confused on how you and Changbin have seen each other naked.

(sorry if this is weird or not explained enough haha)

Heyyyyyy thank you for your request! Also, no need to apologized! I understood what you meant :) I also don't think it's weird. I wasn't sure if they had an established relationship or were just FWB type situation, so I made it FWB. I hope that's okay? I didn't necessarily mention this though, so you could also imagine you and skz are already dating? Up to you! Anyways, ily and thank you again! 🫶🫶🫶 Also !!! feel free to lmk if you meant something else!

GN! Reader X SKZ.

(Didn't specify a gender or body parts. I mentioned reader having a chest they didn't want to expose- honeys, everyone has a chest.)

MDNI. MDNI. MDNI. MDNI. MDNI. MDNI!!!!!!!

Warnings: Smut(?), Suggestive if not smutty, swearing, nude mention, implied sexting, alcohol/ drinking mentions, hickey (giving/ receiving.), maybe implied aftercare???, some of the members are unrealistically bold. lmao.

Note: probably the longest reactions I've written so far lolololol. I hope y'all enjoy! Ofc another one for the road, MDNI!!!!! And also I would love feedback 🫶🥹 No pressure, and if no one told y'all today, ilyyyyyyy :) Take care. I also used your example for Changbin's hehe.

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Chan

The sounds of your loud moans spilled out into the rest of the dorm. You were only being loud because you and Chan both thought the dorms were empty.

That was until Felix came back early to retrieve something he had forgotten. When you screamed— from the pleasure, he stood there, wondering which of the other members were with you. That was when he heard Chan’s voice.

Later, Felix saw you and Chan talking casually and acting as if you two didn’t just have sex in the dorm.

“So, I came back earlier.” Felix spoke up, catching both of your attentions. Chan glanced from you to Felix. “Yeah?”

“I heard you two.” Felix continued. You felt your cheeks heat up, knowing what he was talking about. Chan tried to think of something to say, but couldn’t.

“We’ve been… you know… having sex. No big deal.” Chan explained, his cheeks red from confessing that. Felix scrunched his face, cringing.

“I know that now! I’m just bringing it up because why did you choose the dorm? Did you think we’d be gone for that long?” Felix started to ask questions but then walked away, deciding he didn’t want to know this much information regarding you and Chan.

Lee Know

Minho was in the bathroom— somewhere he could really find privacy. He had his phone angled and snapped a photo of his erection, having gotten hard from sexting with you.

He sent the picture and waited for a response when suddenly, his heart dropped, reading the contact name.

“Shit!” Minho cursed, immediately texting Jeongin to not open the chat. It was too late, and Jeongin found him in the bathroom, knocking on the locked door.

“Who was this meant for?!” Jeongin asked. Shock was evident in his tone and Minho felt his heart racing from the panic this caused.

“Uh—“ Minho was cut off by another knock.

“Get out so I can bleach my eyes!” Jeongin groaned. Minho rolled his eyes, pulling up his pants. When he opened the door, he was met with Jeongin, who held his phone opened on the chat.

“Don’t ever send me anything like this again! Double check the contact names next time—“

“It’s for y/n anyway.” Minho mumbled, walking quickly to his room. Jeongin watched, “what? Don’t send y/n that either—“

“We’ve already slept together.” Minho scoffed, still embarrassed. “And you need to forget what you saw.”

Jeongin started to turn red in embarrassment now, hesitantly entering the bathroom.

Changbin

You, Changbin, and Jisung were playing a game together to pass time until the others got back.

“Why is it so hot in here?” You briefly paused the game, taking off your hoodie as a piece of your shirt rode up with it. You felt your shirt leave your skin and quickly pulled down your shirt before it exposed your chest.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to almost flash you both!” You apologized, setting your hoodie down. Changbin chuckled, smirking.

“Nothing I haven’t already seen.” Changbin commented, not thinking first. You pinched the bridge of your nose and avoided Jisung’s confused expression.

“Excuse me?” Jisung asked, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to know this bit of information.

After a moment of silence of exchanged glances between you and Changbin, Jisung spoke up again. “Because that’s not typical flirting.”

“We’ve been… you know.” You confessed. Jisung was still in a state of confusion but slowly came to the realization.

“I know you’ve heard us before because someone, gets pretty loud.” Changbin teased you through the awkwardness of such a confession.

You reached over the small table and nudged his shoulder, almost knocking the pieces of the game over. “Seriously?!”

Jisung didn’t say anything and stood up, leaving the room.

Hyunjin

You put on one of Hyunjin’s robes to cover your naked body as you were preparing to go to the dorms kitchen to get water for you and Hyunjin.

Hyunjin put on a robe as well but only to walk to the bathroom. “Remember, the others are asleep so please tip toe if you have to. I really don’t want to hear anything from them right now.”

You grinned at Hyunjin, giving him a thumbs up, still glowing from the orgasm you’d just experienced.

You left his room and shut the door as quietly as you could before turning and immediately jumping out of your skin. When you saw Seungmin giving you an amused but confused look, your first instinct was to attempt to cover yourself, forgetting you were wearing Hyunjin’s robe.

“I knew it.” Seungmin smugly chuckled, shaking his head. You just stood there, debating on getting Hyunjin or explaining to Seungmin to not say a word.

“The others owe me money now.” Seungmin turned, seemingly headed for the kitchen also. You were about to head back into Hyunjin’s room but found yourself confused at his statement.

“Wait you made on a bet on whether or not we were having—“

Hyunjin heard your voice and entered the hallway with you. “Woah! What’s going on?” Hyunjin cut you off, not understanding the situation.

He saw Seungmin, who shrugged.

“Your group made a bet on whether or not we were having sex.” You whispered. Hyunjin widened his eyes, his face turning a deep shade of red as Seungmin held back a laugh, entering the kitchen.

Han

“Alright! Water only for the rest of the night.” Changbin handed a clearly drunk Jisung a cup of water. Jisung accepted it, taking a sip as he tried to wash the taste of the alcohol down.

“Fuck, I’m going to regret this in the morning…” Jisung groaned, already feeling the migraine coming on. The room spun and his words were slurred.

They were at an after party and the other members had gone off to enjoy what else the party had to offer. Changbin stayed near Jisung,

“Hell yeah, you’re gonna regret this.” Changbin laughed. “Better enjoy it while you can.”

Jisung rubbed his eyes, drinking more of the water. “Where’s y/n?”

Changbin tilted his head, shrugging. “Probably home or with friends. Why?”

Jisung felt his pockets for his phone, forgetting he left it in the car to charge. “Do you think y/n will still want to have sex tonight?”

Jisung wasn’t sober enough to realize what he just asked Changbin, who was taken aback. He looked around the room and then moved closer to Jisung.

“Not if you’re drunk.” Changbin spoke slowly. Jisung frowned, “tomorrow then.”

“Um…”

Changbin had gotten a bit more information than he needed to know. Jisung’s eyes bulged, immediately shaking his head.

“Ah! I shouldn’t have said that! Please forget this in the morning!” Jisung immediately tried to make up for telling him your private business together.

But Changbin was sober enough to forget.

Felix

Felix smiled as he thought back to your encounter last night. The sounds you made, how you felt, tasted, everything.

He was too satisfied the next day to realize the others were giving him strange looks. That was until Chan pulled him aside with a concerned look.

“Did you burn yourself?” Chan asked, glancing down at his neck. Felix was confused now, wondering what he meant.

“No? Do I have a burn?” Felix asked, gently feeling around his neck. His fingers touched one of the hickeys you left on his neck, the lingering soreness reminding him of how good you kissed, sucked, and nibbled on his neck.

He fought back a smirk, reminding himself of Chan’s concern.

“Oh— yeah. I was trying to straighten my hair.” Felix lied, obviously. He wasn’t going to tell him the truth. Chan seemed to buy it, sighing.

“Please ask me for help. I don’t think the makeup artists will like having to use the makeup to cover up the burn.” Chan chuckled, patting Felix’ shoulder.

“Yeah. Sorry.” Felix smiled, nodding. They glanced towards the front door, hearing a knock. Chan went to answer it as Felix watched to see if it were you or someone else.

You entered the dorms and almost immediately, Felix— and Chan noticed the hickeys that littered your neck.

Felix felt his stomach drop as Chan had a look of realization, glancing at Felix with a knowing glare.

“So you both burned yourselves on the same iron?” Chan crossed his arms. Felix sighed and you noticed the hickey on Felix’ neck before moving your hand to try and hide yours with the collar of your hoodie.

“Fine… We, uh, did it last night.” Felix spoke quietly and tried to be discreet, not wanting to say ‘sex’.

“Just say sex.” You sighed, moving to stand beside Felix. Chan raised his eyebrows at your boldness.

“Wait—“

You then dragged Felix into the bathroom and worked on covering the hickeys with makeup before the others saw.

Seungmin

Every time you were hanging around the guys or even mentioned, Seungmin would get shy and nervous, displaying signs that one would when having a crush on someone.

Other times when you were around, he’d be more open and mainly focused on you and anything you said or did, regardless of who was speaking.

Because of this, the other members caught on and began to tease him of his ‘little’ crush.

Seungmin knew this wasn’t the case. You knew that wasn’t the case.

Yeah, he was attracted to you. But it was more than just a crush and it began to annoy Seungmin with their relentless teasing.

“I just wish they’d, I don’t know, stop.” Seungmin vented to you. You took his hand in yours, hatching a plan.

“I have an idea, but only if you’re up for it.”

“At this point? Anything.” Seungmin’s eyes lit up. You nervously chuckled, “we tell them.”

Seungmin’s hopeful smile dropped, “and get teased more?”

“They tease you because they think you have a crush on me. Would they still tease you for having sex with me?” You asked, thinking the plan through with him. Seungmin groaned.

Hyunjin walked in, instantly smiling. “Aw, found the lovebirds.”

You looked at Seungmin, not wanting to go through with the plan without his consent. Seungmin stood up and pulled you up with him.

“Don’t come in my room for the next hour.”

“Hour?” You whispered, widening your eyes. Hyunjin was taken aback, realizing what Seungmin meant by this.

“If you hear anything, don’t interrupt.” Seungmin looked back at Hyunjin, matching his smile from before this info bomb was dropped on him.

Hyunjin didn’t know what to do or say, surprised to say the least.

I.N

“Are you sure it didn’t hurt?” Jeongin asked, knowing it was your first time having sex. You smiled at how attentive and caring he was being even after you’ve reassured him multiple times.

“Jeongin,” you kept your tone soft. “I’m sure it didn’t hurt.”

Jeongin smiled in relief, “do you want to do it again?” He asked, meeting your eyes. You chuckled, “now?”

“No, later or some other time.” Jeongin clarified. Despite how worried he was about hurting you accidentally, he enjoyed it and being with you and he knows you did too.

“Sure. Yes.” You smiled. Jeongin felt more relief hearing that you wanted to have sex again.

You both turned to see Minho in the doorway after he had knocked on the door.

“You both are gross.” Minho joked, although he wished he hadn’t heard your conversation. Jeongin blinked, pointing towards the door.

“Out!” You couldn’t help but giggle at the situation. Minho even let out a small laugh.

“You’re… you’re just jealous because we were doing it.” Jeongin emphasized the word ‘it’, feeling too awkward in that moment to say ‘sex’.

“I don’t care that you’re having sex with each other, just make sure to use protection,” Minho took a step out of the room and put his hand on the door knob.

“And lock the door, lower the noise, and wait until no one is in the dorms.” Minho grinned. You could tell it was forced because Minho’s grin dropped a second later as he shut the door.

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Note 2: Seungmin in his villain era in Hyunjin's lololol & also, hickeys don't look like burns, I know this but a hot iron burn is a common excuse people use when someone else sees them. Also, I know I wrote these but some of the members need to mind their own *inhale* MOTHER FUCKING *exhale* business.

Note 3: I'm joking lmaoooooo. I need to sleep. Goodnight lovelies.

[bunnliix]

Can't Stay Away from You - Chapter One

First chapter woot woot! This is by far, the longest chapter I've ever written, at over 7k words, and honestly, I hope this is good? It's my first time writing a/b/o, and I'm a little unsure of where this is going exactly, but I hope everyone will have fun on the rollercoaster that this fic is bound to be!

masterlist

word count: 7k

warnings: defintely some angst in here, but lighter angst?, reader is anxious at parts, but like for the most part, there's really not much to warn about I think? Please let me know if I'm wrong or if I need to add anything!

Y/n wasn’t expecting any emails, but when she heard the ding that let her know she had received one, she immediately looked. She never knew when she’d get another freelance job, so whenever an email came in, she developed the habit of checking it. This wasn’t a work email, no, but it was from one of the stores she had recently bought a couple of Stray Kids albums from. From the subject line, it was about the albums she had bought, and a fansign? She doesn’t remember signing up for one, but she also has been so busy, she probably forgot about it.

Opening up the email, she found that she had won a place at an in person fansign in Seoul, in two days. She was so shocked by this news that she held her breath, not thinking this was real for a moment. She read through the email fully, memorizing every word, she really had won, holy shit. She thanked the gods that she didn’t work a physical job, because it meant she could work from anywhere, and she started figuring out her trip to Seoul. There was no way she was missing out on a chance to meet Stray Kids.

She quickly found a plane ticket, even if it was insanely expensive, and she thanked herself for her savings, having to dip into that a bit for this trip. She then moved on to finding a place to stay, and found a nice hotel that wasn’t outrageously expensive, and immediately booked it. She’d be flying out in about seven hours, leaving her to scramble to pack and leave for the airport. Quickly packing her luggage, having a packing list made up from previous trips, she packed clothes for a week, deciding to explore a bit since she was going there. 

Y/n’s travelled enough to have mastered the skill of packing efficiently, gathering everything she needed into 3 pieces of luggage. She double-checked her travel list, making sure she had packed enough for her trip. Before she shoved her laptop and cords into her bag, she sent out an email to her current clients stating that she had an emergency occur, and that her work may be delayed by a day. At this point, it was almost time for her to head to the airport. So, she finished packing the last of her things into her carry-on. Remembering to grab her coat before putting her shoes on, she grabbed her bags and left the apartment. 

She took a taxi to the airport, and on the way there, texted her best friend Emily that she was heading out of the country and asking her to watch over her apartment while she was gone. Emily agreed right away, and told her not to worry about anything. She smiled down at her phone, her bestie was her ride or die, and she was so grateful to have her in her life. 

When she arrived at the airport, she thanked the driver, pulling her luggage out of the trunk and heading straight to the check in counter. The process was smooth and she was quickly on her way to security, which while terribly busy, went by quickly and soon she was sitting at her gate, having grabbed a couple snacks for the plane and filled up her water bottle on the way over there. She had about an hour before boarding, so she pulled out her laptop, deciding to get some work done while she waited. She finished off the last edits to one project, sending that off to one of her clients, before starting on one of her other projects.

Halfway through her second project, the call for boarding went out over the P.A. system, and so she saved her work, slipping her laptop back into her bag before lining up with everyone else. She was lucky enough to get a last minute window seat on the plane, putting her carry-on in the overhead bin, before settling in her seat as she pushed her smaller bag under the seat in front of her. She looked out the window as the plane took off, the start of her journey to Seoul, and meeting Stray Kids, was starting now. Since it was a relatively long flight, she pulled out her laptop once she was able to do so, starting back on the project she worked on earlier. She spent the majority of the flight working on her current workload, which was about four projects at the moment. 

They were all fairly simple projects, they just took time to perfect them, but it was a great way to pass the time. By the time she finished her last project, there was only a couple hours left of the flight, and so she rested and watched the clouds roll by. Y/n admired the view as they landed in Seoul, excited to explore the city. 

Patiently waiting to disembark the plane, she waited until she was able to leave her row, grabbing her bag from the overhead bin and then bringing it down, pulling it behind her as she left the plane. She pulled it along, heading towards the luggage carousel, before she went through customs and immigration, quickly clearing them and heading out into Seoul. She took the metro to head towards her hotel, unpacking her headphones and listening to music to pass the time on the train. Once off the train, she pulled out her phone to find her hotel location, quickly finding her way to the hotel. Thankfully, it was late enough that she could check in right away and head to her room. She took the elevator up, finding her room midway down the hallway, and upon opening the door, found that she had a beautiful view of the city around her. 

She dropped her luggage by the bed, and walked towards the window, admiring her view of the city. She may not be a heights kind of person, but this was still beautiful, and she would be looking out a lot during her week here. She hauled her suitcase up onto the bed, pulling out a fresh outfit, before heading to the bathroom to shower. Once she had, she changed into her fresh outfit, pleased to get the smell of the airplane and airports off of her. Since it was still light out for a while, she decided to get out into the city and explore the neighborhood around her. She packed her smaller bag with the necessities, grabbing her key card on the way out the door and quickly going back down to the lobby and out into the fresh air. 

Y/n knew travelling alone as an omega always brought risks with it, but it was worth it to be here in Seoul, both for the fansign and just in general. It was sunny and warm in Seoul, a great contrast from back home, and she was living for it. She was always a warm weather kinda girl, and the warm air and sunshine here made her thrive. She decided on just walking the area around her, figuring tomorrow would be one of her bigger exploration days. 

She saw a lot of stores that intrigued her, but thought better of shopping, she’d be exhausted much quicker if she gave into that urge. She was glad that she brought her headphones, it helped distract from the loud noises of the city, and brought the level down to a reasonable one she could deal with. The hustle and bustle of the city was normal to her, since her own city was similar, 

Up until now, her omega had been strangely quiet. Usually she was very outspoken, more so than y/n herself was. Her omega was going haywire at the moment, confusing the poor girl as to what set the omega off. She felt almost pulled forward, and her omega pushed to the surface, making her walk faster to wherever that pull was coming from. It culminated in her running into someone, and ended with her on the ground in front of them, looking up at their mask-covered face. 

“Are you alright? I’m sorry that I bumped into you.” The person said as they leaned down, reaching out a hand to her. She tentatively took it, and she stood up with their help. Standing so close to them, she could smell their citrusy sweet scent, it calling to and calming her omega. That confused her slightly, but she shook it off, not wanting to think about it now. 

“I’m okay, and really, I bumped into you. I should be the one apologizing.” She replied.

“Let’s just say we bumped into each other then? We both played a part in this.” They told her, and she could see that they were smiling by the crinkles near their eyes. 

“I can agree to that.” Y/n replied, giggling slightly. 

She saw as the other person took a breath of her scent, and for some reason they stumbled back away from her, their eyes widening. 

“I’ve got to go, I’m sorry.” They said, rushing away from her, leaving her standing there alone on the sidewalk.

She watched him run away, and her omega cried out, and y/n felt like she had been punched in the stomach. Her anxiety shot up, and tears came to her eyes. She’s so confused, she doesn’t completely understand what’s just happened, and why she was so affected by it.

She felt increasingly down as she walked back to her hotel, no longer feeling any urge to explore, just wanting to retreat back into her room and nest. She speed-walked into the hotel elevator, avoiding everyone. Once back in her room, she locked her door and got to work making a nest in the bed, using everything she could. She finished it and then climbed inside, curling up into herself as her omega cried out to someone, for an unknown reason. That, and she couldn’t take her mind off of the person who ran away from her, and everytime she thought of him, it made her chest hurt. 

In the end, she fell asleep, and she dreamed of them again. She had dreams every so often about Stray Kids, and she assumed this was once again, her brain being delusional. She dreamed about going on vacation with them, assumedly in Australia given her surroundings, but she felt that this dream was different. 

She noticed that this time, the member’s touch and reactions felt more real? It felt like these were actually the boys, and not figments of her imagination like they usually did. Their eyes seemed shocked, even as they all enjoyed the dream. They were more touchy with her, Felix especially. She noticed that he looked similar to the person she ran into earlier, but shook it off as her just being delusional again. She enjoyed her dream and found happiness with the boys, as it was just a dream, that’s all.

Waking up the next morning in her makeshift nest, she whined at the lack of someone beside her, having fallen asleep in her dream next to the boys. Her scent smelled like burnt honey and vanilla because of her sadness, but she pushed through, thinking of happy thoughts and how she’d get to see the boys later today. She got up, having to get out of her nest that smelt like sadness. Pulling out an outfit for the fanmeet, she quickly showered before changing, and then moved onto her makeup and hair. She did her makeup like she usually did, leaning more towards a very natural look, knowing if she wore too much, it would be harder to touch up later on.

Before leaving her room, she checked the rules for attending the fansign, and quickly memorized them. She headed back to the bathroom, since one of the rules was wearing scent blockers, and quickly applied them to her scent glands, making sure she covered them fully. The rule had been put into place because of an incident with a second gen girl group fansign years ago, she remembered the aftermath of it very well, despite being young at the time. One of the fans, an alpha, attended the fansign and tried to overwhelm one of the omega members of the group with her scent, and since then, companies have made it mandatory that scent blockers be worn during fansigns. 

Checking her outfit in the mirror once again, she made sure it looked right, fixing anything that was out of place. She had decided on an outfit that reminded her of a mix of Felix and Han’s individual styles, but had blended them together in her outfit. Plus, it was really comfy, and knowing she had a long day in front of her, she didn’t want to be stuck in something uncomfortable. She grabbed her bag, setting out for the day. She planned to explore and see some tourist sights first, before the fansign, since it wasn’t starting for a couple hours from then. 

She mostly wandered as she wanted, not having a specific destination in mind. She found herself wandering a market and buying some snacks along the way. Everything she bought tasted better than the prior snacks, and she had to leave the market in a hurry lest she get distracted. To her benefit, however, this passed enough time that she almost had to run to make it to the fansign venue.

She made it there in under 20 minutes, and hopped in line with everyone else, having brought her ID, and had the email that she won as well. Checking in was a simple process for the most part, however the ID checking part was the most tedious. Once that was finished and they confirmed that she was who she said she was and that she was allowed entry, she was quickly shuffled into the hall where the fansign took place. 

Y/n found herself about midway between the front and back of the hall, and almost straight in the middle of her row. She greeted the girls next to her, making small talk with them as much as she was able to with her limited knowledge of Korean. They mostly talked about their favorite members and songs, and whose outfits they liked the most in this recent comeback. Y/n enjoyed chatting with the other girls, and a couple more of the ones around them joined in as well, and just before the boys walked out, they had created a small group chat, adding each other on kakaotalk. 

The minute the boys walked out on the stage, all eyes were on them, and the cheers were almost deafening. Despite it only being a small fraction of the number of people at a concert, it was as loud as a concert. Yet it only took Bang Chan raising his hand for the crowd of fans to fall silent. 

“Hello everyone!” He said, waving to the room. He and the boys quickly introduced themselves and did their “Step out” intro as they always do. They took the first part of the fanmeet to goof around on stage, playing around with some of the items laid out for them by staff. 

During this, y/n couldn’t keep her eyes off of them, feeling almost a pulling sensation in her chest, and a need to keep an eye on the boys. She ignored the pulling feeling, trying to enjoy the fansign and commit this all to memory. She soaked in the atmosphere, the joy that radiated around the room, from the fans and the idols. It filled her with happiness, the feeling almost bursting out of her chest. 

It wasn’t long before they boys had moved onto the signing part of the fansign. She watched as each row of fans lined up to meet the idol group, going down the line one by one, and the smiles on the boys’ faces made her smile too. It made her happy to see them happy, and she knew the girls around her felt the same way. Her hand was tapped as a girl in the row ahead of her asked her to record her interactions with the boys, and she readily agreed. Once that girl was up on stage, she zoomed in and recorded her interaction with the eight idols. In return, once it was her turn to line up with her album to meet the boys, the other girl offered to record her going down the line and talking with the boys, to which she quickly thanked her for offering and y/n handed her her phone. She lined up on the side of the stage, nervousness growing as there were only a few girls still in between her and Changbin, the first of the eight boys she’d meet today. 

Soon, she sat in the chair in front of the rapper, smiling at him as she said hello, shaking slightly due to her nerves.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you!” She told him, smile as bright as the sun.

“Ahh, nice to meet you too!” He said, taking her album as she handed it to him, opening to one of his pages. “Where are you from?” He asked, noticing her nerves and the slight shake to her body, determined to get her less nervous.

“I’m from Canada. I flew here and arrived yesterday afternoon.” Y/n told him.

“Oh wow! Really? That’s so far away!” He was surprised she flew that far for their fansign, he even applauded her for it, to which she shied away, hiding her face.

“No, no hiding!” He teased her, and she slowly pulled her hands away, looking at him with red cheeks.

“Is it cold back in Canada?” Changbin asked.

“It’s not too bad, I guess? But I prefer it here where it’s warm and sunny.” She told him, replying to his question.

“Ohhh, you like warm.” He said, English skills finally breaking down a bit.

“I love the warmth. I’m always too cold, see?” She said to him, showing her hands which were slightly pink at the tips. 

He grabbed her hands gently, rubbing them to try and warm them up. He knew it was chilly in there, but not to where one of their fans was becoming very cold. He was so concerned for her, almost abnormally so, but he chalked it up to just caring for their stays.

“Oh no, you’re so cold! It’s too cold here.” He said after rubbing her hands for a couple moments.

“Oh no, it’s okay, Changbin-oppa. My fingers and toes are always like this, no matter how warm it is. Just my body being bad, that’s all.” She corrected him gently, wanting to ensure he knew it wasn’t the room, it was just her. 

And sadly, that is where her time with the rapper ended, with her being moved onto the next man, who was the Hwang Hyunjin, who was waiting for her to move down in front of him, which made her blush intensify. 

“Hello Hyunjin!” She said, voice a little on the higher side.

“Hello, Stay!” He said, smiling at her. “What’s your name?” He asked as he received her album, moving to sign one of his pages that she had marked. 

“My name is y/n! And we’re born in the same year, Hyunjin-ssi.” She informed him, slightly swaying in order to calm herself.

“Oh? We are? That’s amazing! What month?” He further questioned her, a slight surprise showing on his face. 

“I’m a September baby, so I’m younger than you by a couple months.” She said, watching him sign her album.

He looked back up at her, his beauty was ethereal, and it took her breath away to see him this close up. He reached out to grab her hands, both of them pulling away slightly and flinching at the zap of electricity. It couldn’t have been more than static electricity, but it felt almost like a connection of sorts. Both of them waved it off, not thinking much of it, but inside, their beta and omega knew what had just happened, and were berating them for ignoring it.

“Your name is really pretty, I forgot to tell you.” He said earnestly, his eyes feeling like they were staring right into her soul, and she could see so many emotions floating around in those captivating eyes. She couldn't keep eye contact with him and looked away, down at her lap to avoid his gaze.

“Thank you, Hyunjin-ssi.” She said, still unable to look him in the eyes.

“Stay doesn’t have to use -ssi, call me Hyunjin, please?” He begged her, leaning down on the table to try and get her attention, to which she looked up at him, giggling at his position.

“What are you doing?” She said between giggles.

“I just wanted-” He started, but was interrupted by staff ushering her to move onto the next member, to Hyunjin’s dismay. He wanted to talk with her all day.

Seungmin was next, and his gentle smile caused her to continue to smile in return, her smile not dimming, but becoming softer.

“Hello, it’s nice to meet you.” He said, much calmer than the others, but you could see that he was just as excited to meet their fans as the other boys were. 

“Hello Seungmin, it’s nice to meet you too.” She said, telling him her name afterwards, so that he had a name to sign the album with. 

They made small talk as he signed, and then continued on afterwards. Y/n told him how far she travelled to be here today, and then expanded on her home as Seungmin asked her more questions about where she was from. She tells him that no matter how long the journey was, she wouldn’t have missed being here, and missing the chance to talk to them, for anything else in the world. 

To this, his face is filled with awe and wonder, always surprised at what lengths their fans go to in order to see them live or to meet them. She then talks about what she loves about him, and how she enjoys seeing his interactions with the other boys, and how his voice is angelic. She just about showers him in compliments, until her time with the vocalracha member is up.

He waves goodbye to her and hands her album onto Jeongin, who’s next in line. He smiled at her as she slid over into the chair in front of the maknae, who, having heard her name from when she told his fellow member, quickly signed her album, before reaching out to grab her hands, squeezing them. This shocked y/n slightly, not expecting how intense the maknae was right then and there. He however, just felt drawn to her, like a moth to a flame, and wanted to be in contact with her. His alpha encouraged his actions, and the man himself didn’t question his alpha, and just continued looking at her with a smile on his face. 

“Hi, Stay!” He said excitedly, to which y/n replied back, asking how he was doing.

“I’m doing better now that I get to talk to you.” He answered her, winking at the end and slightly flirting, to which he got lightly smacked by Minho. 

Y/n wasn't faring well with the intense nature of the supposed “baby bread” youngest member, and it clearly showed on her face, which was turning, in Jeongin’s eyes, a lovely shade of pink, and her eyes were wide as she stared at him.

“You look so cute, Stay.” He complimented her, to which she blushed harder. His grin grew as he watched her blush intensify, and to which his alpha almost purred in contentment. 

He continued teasing her, to which her responses were almost nonsensical, until the staff member became her savior by telling Jeongin that she had to move to the next member. Minho, being impatient, grabbed her hands from his fellow member and pulled her over to the chair in front of his space at the table, grabbing her album afterwards. Jeongin pouted at his hyung’s actions, watching you move over to the next chair. He only stopped overtly watching her when the next Stay sat down in front of him, his attention turning to them.

“Hello Lino!” Y/n said, a smile still stuck on her face.

“Hello Stay.” He said, shaking their hands as he had yet to let go. “Do you have any pets?” He asked, finally but almost reluctantly pulling his hands away so he could sign her album.

“I do! I have a bunny, named Jack.” She told him, telling him how she got him, and about all of her bunny’s little quirks. 

He stopped signing her album just to look up at her and watch her talk. He was oddly drawn to her, and observed her as she talked. Her smile was extraordinary and how he wanted to never see her smile fade away, he felt pulled in by her, and he knew it wasn’t her scent, it couldn’t have been since he could see the scent blockers on her skin. But she almost called out to him, to his alpha. He internally questioned if there was something more to that feeling or if it was only just because she was similar to his omegas, to Jisung and Felix. Her outfit clearly took inspiration from them, and she seemed similar in personality, so maybe that was the culprit behind this pull he was feeling.

He realized that he hadn’t finished signing her album, and hurried to do so as he lightly chatted with her, mostly about their own pets and how troublesome they were at times. Sadly, that came to an end when she was pointed to move onto the next idol, who happened to be Felix. 

The Australian man looked at her, having the silent realization that this was the girl he ran into the day prior, and did his best to push what happened out of his mind, since he hadn’t told anyone what had happened, and from the lack of reaction on her part, she didn’t know that they had met yesterday.

“Hello Felix!” She said, smiling from ear to ear at meeting her almost birthday twin.

“Hello! How are you? Also, your outfit is so cute! I love it!” He replied, a grin on his face.

“I’m well, and I’m very excited to be here!” She told him, her cheeks hurting as she had smiled since meeting Changbin. “Thank you! I tried to combine your and Han’s styles, and I hope I was able to do both your styles justice.” She explained.

“You did! So, how old are you?” He questioned, taking the time to sign her album.

“I’m your age, actually.” She confessed, as he looked up in slight shock.

“Wow, really?” He said. 

“Yup! Actually you and I aren’t too far apart in age, birthday wise. I share a birthday with one of your members.” She replied.

“Wait, that means-” He started, before she interrupted him.

“Yeah, I do have a birthday twin within your group.” She giggled and nodded as she confirmed his thoughts.

“Oh wow! That’s so cool!” He told her.

“Yeah, it’s what made me a Stay actually. Well, and your Miroh era.” She confessed to him, blushing slightly.

They continued chatting, with Felix inquiring more about her life, and how long she’s been into K-pop among other things. Felix’s omega was practically purring at having this pretty girl’s attention only on him, plus that they got to see her again after Felix stupidly ran away yesterday.

Meanwhile, next to Felix, Minho was trying to concentrate on the Stay in front of him, but his mind and eyes kept wandering over to y/n and Felix. He couldn’t help but listen in on their conversation as he tried to keep chatting with the fan in front of him. That pull in his chest still hadn’t disappeared, and he kept questioning what exactly was drawing him to you. His alpha, however, knew exactly what was happening and was very happy about it, Minho could tell that much. His alpha kept talking about how Felix and the girl got along so well, and look how pretty they both were, and ‘Wouldn’t they look pretty together in their nest?’ Minho had to physically force himself to look away from the two of them, and push to only focus on the Stay in front of him.

During this, the two people who were the subject of Minho’s thoughts and glances were saddened when staff told them it was time for y/n to move on. Felix grabbed her hand, pleading with her not to go, to the girl’s laughter and her insistence that she must move on, to Han finally interjecting and reaching out for her hand and pulling her to the next chair. 

“I heard you had a birthday twin in Stray Kids?” He inquired immediately, wanting to know.

“Hello Han. Yes I do.” She giggled at his impatience. “I’m birthday twins with you, actually. Down to the year.” She told him. 

Hell yeah!” He exclaimed as Felix overheard, the Aussie pouting at how close he was to sharing a birthday. 

Y/n saw Felix’s pout, and giggled as she looked over at him. He saw her giggling and playfully glared at her, only making her giggle more, which Han did as well when he saw what was making the girl in front of him giggle. 

Han quickly signed his page in the album, before focusing all his attention on the girl in front of him. He wanted to know more about his birthday twin, and to learn if they had anything else in common. They did have quite a few things in common, their style being one of those things, anxiety was a second, and they also had quite similar personalities. This made the quokka a very happy man, and his omega wanted to steal the Stay away and keep them and Han was agreeable with that notion. A birthday twin to share the fun with? Yes please.

They joked about how maybe this was fate, and maybe this was why she was drawn to the group in the first place, with y/n admitting that their shared birthday is what made her interested in the first place. Han smiled, with a blush on his face at that confession. That she had found the group and gotten interested because of Felix, but was more interested that they both shared a birthday. Plus, she won the chance to be here and meet them, which was even more amazing.

As engrossed as they both were in their conversation, Chan finally leaned over and interrupted them, to inform her that it was their turn to chat. Han grabbed her hand, shaking them as he thanked her for coming and talking with him, and that she’d have to remember to wish him a happy birthday when their birthday came, to which she promised she would. She reluctantly let go of his hands, and moved over to sit in front of Chan, realizing that her time with the boys would end shortly. 

“Hello there, sorry to interrupt your fun with Hannie.” He apologized, looking truly sorry to have stopped their conversation. He truly was sad that he had to do so, they loved their fans, and Jisung looked so happy as he chatted with her, and his alpha almost screamed his content at how happy this girl had made his members. 

“It’s okay, I understand, don’t worry Chan.” She told him, understanding clearly heard in her voice.

He smiled at how understanding she was, starting up a conversation with her about what she was going to do while in Seoul. Inside, his alpha was trying to gain control over him, an overwhelming need coming over him to grab her and scent her, rules be damned. He wasn’t alone in this feeling, as y/n had been feeling a pull this entire time as she went down the line, but it was stronger right in front of the leader of the group, and her omega wanted nothing more than to sink into this man’s arms right here and now. She shook off her omega while he pushed away those feelings, one thinking it was just her being delusional and having read too much fanfic, while the other just chalked it up to his alpha reacting to the fact that it was a pretty girl in front of him right now. 

They continued their chat like neither of them were experiencing anything, and she asked him about places to visit in Australia should she ever get to visit, and he turned it on her and asked about places to visit in Canada when they get the chance to travel there. Both parties enjoyed the conversation, almost feeling as if they were just two friends chatting, instead of idol and fan. They talked about animals as well, both of them gushing about their own animals and telling a couple of funny stories about them.

At last, y/n’s time with the boys was finally over, and it was at this point Chan realized he had never signed her album. Signaling to the staff to let him sign the album quickly before she had to leave, he did so. On a whim, and what he swears was his alpha’s idea, and not fully his, under his signature, he added his number. Quickly closing the book, he handed it to her, and waved to her as she left the stage and returned to her seat, focusing on the next fan to sit in front of him.

Y/n returned to her seat, feeling saddened after leaving the stage and the boys. She shrugged it off, just like she had with the rest of the odd feelings she’s had today and yesterday. After she got back to her seat, one of the girls in the row behind her that she had made friends with, asked her to film her meetings with the boys, and she agreed. After that, the girl in the row in front of her that filmed her interactions handed her phone back, and y/n thanked her for filming as the other girl waved off her thank yous. 

Soon enough, it was the girl behind her turn to chat with the boys, and y/n started filming as she went up on stage. She noticed during her filming, that the boys glanced up in her direction a couple times, or at least her general direction, she doubted their gaze was on her specifically. She dutifully continued filming, trying to get the best video she could for the girl.

Y/n was wrong about the boys not looking right in the crowd for her. They really couldn’t help themselves, looking at her when she didn’t notice, and every time they had the chance. They had never felt so pulled towards someone like this, not since they all found each other. Y/n was feeling the same way, it almost felt like there was a rope between her and the boys, and it was trying to pull her in closer. She once again brushed it off as wishful thinking, and maybe her delusions of wanting the boys to notice her, as every Stay did. Plus, she probably just enjoyed talking to them so much that she wanted to talk with them again. 

Finally, the girl she was filming for left the stage, and y/n ended the recording, handing the phone back to her once the other girl returned to her seat. She watched as the final rows got their chance to see and talk with the boys, and once everyone was back in their seats, the boys came out from behind the tables, and started goofing off again. There was a portion set aside for photos of the boys, and of course they were absolutely adorable during it. And then they decided a couple dance relays of S-Class were in order, and a part switch dance to S-Class as well, which went as well as anyone could expect. A.k.a, it was a bit of a disaster, with the boys not knowing each other's places nearly as well as they knew their own. Though, we did get to see Felix do Minho’s parts, which was amazing and everyone in the room loved it. 

Before anyone knew it, the fansign was coming to an end, with the boys sadly saying goodbye to the fans. Y/n didn’t want it to end, but as they were ushered back out of the room after the boys had left the stage, she reluctantly left. She was in tears leaving the building, and felt a great sadness at leaving, and so did her omega. She wasn’t quite sure why she reacted so heavily, but as she walked back to the hotel, her emotions only grew. Because of this, she sped up her pace, wanting to disappear into her hotel room and cry in private, not wanting others to see her like this. 

Once she was back in her hotel room, she locked the door, immediately taking off her shoes and any accessories, before crawling into her makeshift nest that still smelt of sadness from that morning. She let herself fall apart, crying as she curled into a ball. She wasn’t sure why she was so sad, she really wasn’t sure, but she could feel that her omega was really hurting. She cried herself to sleep, falling into a nightmare, where it was the opposite of her dream from the night before. The boys were the opposite of their sweet selves, and were hurling anything and everything negative about herself at her, and all she could do was sit there and cry as they did so.

Being shocked out of her nightmare, she sat up as she woke up, her chest heaving as she tried to regulate her breathing. She managed to do so after a couple of minutes, and trying to get her mind off of how hurtful her nightmare was, she reached for her phone.

She found the video of her interactions with the boys, and started watching it. As she watched it, she realized just how different her interactions with the boys were from the ones she had filmed for others and watched herself. They seemed much more intimate in a way, with how touchy a lot of the boys were with her. They were so much more emotive and interactive with her, it felt a little abnormal after the fact. She must have been so happy to meet them that none of it felt off to her, and really looking back, it still didn’t feel too odd, just a bit more intimate than the other fans’ interactions. She wondered why she was so different, and why her, over everyone else. 

This pushed her to look through her album, and she stopped at Chan’s signature. Underneath his name, there was a number, along with a short message to text him. This had to be a joke, there was no way she was living the y/n life right now. She felt as if she had stepped into a fanfiction, because why else would Bang fucking Chan have given her, out of all people, his number?

She decided to fuck it and texted the number he gave her, and he almost immediately responds.

‘Who are you?’ He demanded.

‘I’m y/n, you gave me this number in my album that you signed today.’ She replied.

‘What did we talk about today then?’ He asked her.

‘A little bit of everything, honestly, but we did talk about our pets. You talked about Berry, and I talked about my bunny Jack and how troublesome he is.’ Y/n told him. 

She also decided to send him a picture of herself, holding open his page of the album as she sat next to a clock to prove the time. Chan believed her, and told her as such. She then asks him why he decided to give her his number.

‘I watched your actions with the others and myself, and something about you and all of our interactions intrigued me. I felt there was something more to it all, and wanted to get to know you better.’ He explained, to which she was relieved it wasn’t a trick, but was also confused about how she intrigued him. She voiced those thoughts and to which he reassured her that he wasn’t tricking her, nor should she be confused about how she was interesting to him, because he honestly found her interesting from the start of their conversation at the fanmeet.

He further explained that the other members had no idea about what he had done, and he hadn’t planned on saying anything to them, unless y/n had reached out and told him it was okay to do so. Though that didn’t stop them from discussing her in the vans on the way back to the dorm, nor did it stop their discussion from spilling over into their group chat. He told her as much, and she was surprised to have made that much of an impression on them. Chan reassured her that their interactions with her were very memorable, from what he could gleam from the others’ conversations. What he didn’t tell her was that Minho had noticed Chan’s behavior, and signaled to the pack alpha that they would be talking after they arrived back at the dorm. 

Soon enough the boys arrived back at the dorm, and the leader had to say goodbye for now to y/n, Minho staring him down as they walked into the building and then the elevator. The other alpha grabbed his hand as soon as the elevator doors opened, and led him through the front door of the apartment, and straight to the Aussie man’s room.

“Who are you texting? And why am I sure it’s that girl from the fansign?” Minho interrogated him, not leaving him a second to talk. 

“You’re not wrong. I gave her my number.” Chan confessed.

Taglist: open!

[thelaurenshippen]

finally taking the time to read through the SAG agreement summary and oof, I hope they have an AI town hall soon because...well, there are things to discuss!

so, in case folks are curious, here are my immediate takeaways from the deal as a SAG actor, a SAG producer, and person who is not any kind of expert but spends a lot of time being skeptical of contracts I sign. this is a summation/commentary, not a holistic breakdown of every point, nor even an in-depth discussion of the points I do talk about. and it is, of course, in no way legal advice or voting advice.

this post is already maybe the longest post I've ever written on tumblr (lol) and I feel like I've barely scratched the surface. to be clear, nothing I'm saying here represents how I'm going to vote, how I think other actors should vote, or my be-all-end-all stance on a particular issue. this is me reading through, flagging what concerns me, and asking myself questions. and I'm here to take your questions too! though of course my expertise is limited.

(what?? something I wrote got annoying long?? in my tumblr? it's more likely, etc. huge write-up after the cut)

the good

self-tape stuff: this is one of the more niche/the thing that the general public will find least interesting, but they've put in a lot of provisions to make sure self-tape auditions have limits (# of pages, no stunts, no nudity, doesn't have to be professionally shot, etc.) which is amazing because these types of auditions have gotten out of control since the pandemic. this feels like a great gain

data transparency: in no world did I think the streamers were ever going to agree to any data sharing with either the wga or sag so even though the data is limited, this still feels huge to me.

folks who sing and dance will be paid for both of those things now, which is great

they've added MLK day and Juneteenth as holidays (about time)

a performer cannot be required to translate their own lines

principal performers are required to be given hair and makeup consultation or reimbursed for obtaining their own services - this seems like a small thing, but it's being put in here pretty much entirely because HMU services have generally been appalling when it comes to textured hair/a variety of skin tones. there's also stuff in here about working to hire more diverse HMU artists

it looks like it's going to be easier/provide a path for folks getting IMDb credits even if they're not credited on screen

miscellany: there's a bunch of gains in wage increases, P&H increases, relocation fees, franchise language etc. that all seem good to me, though my limited knowledge on those subjects prevents me from going in depth on them.

this is not important, but it tickled me, there's a term to replace all instances of "telegraph" in the contract with "email & text" which like...why has it taken us thirty years to do that lol.

the "...hm..."

intimacy coordinators: oof. when I watched the press conference SAG gave, I was fucking thrilled when they said that the new agreement required folks to hire intimacy coordinators for nudity and simulated sex scenes. that was almost reason enough for me to vote for it tbh - not requiring it is the exact reason I voted no on our last contract. however, reading the contract summary now, the exact language is: "Producer must use best efforts to engage an Intimacy Coordinator for scenes involving nudity or simulated sex and will consider in good faith any request by a performer to engage an Intimacy Coordinator for other scenes. Producer shall not retaliate against a performer for requesting an Intimacy Coordinator." this....sucks. "best efforts" and "good faith" are not the same as "required". IMO, an intimacy coordinator is the same thing as having a stunt coordinator or, like, any number of health and safety requirements. OSHA doesn't say you must "in good faith" put your "best effort" to providing fire exits. it's great that performers can request coordinators for any kind of scene, and this is still the strongest language we've ever had in a contract but....c'mon guys.

residuals: look, I can't speak to these new terms in any concrete way. there are increases, there are bonuses for streaming success, there's a whole thing about a fund regarding those successes that I need explained to me more in depth, but overall, it looks like we made some in-roads here. as someone who employs actors under digital distribution contracts that has no residuals (podcasts), I know how genuinely cumbersome the unholy trifecta of "views-success-profit" can be (as in views do not equal success, success does not equal profit, etc.). I also have no sympathy when the majority of companies dealing with that cumbersome trifecta are massive media conglomerates. anyway, long story short, idk if this is good enough, I'm hoping to attend the next info meeting sag has.

the bad

the new hair/makeup provisions are explicitly for principal actors. while I hope it leads to better, more inclusive HMU services all around I haaaate that this implies supporting or background actors (who oftentimes also have to sit in HMU) don't deserve the consideration. (then again, background actors are usually required to do their own HMU/bring their own costumes, but for productions where that's not the case, the same HMU provisions should apply IMO)

as with every contract, there's language that could be stronger, clarity that needs to exist, and important things missing - but this isn't the final contract and I'm not a lawyer, so I'm gonna leave that stuff to the experts.

but, "lauren", you say, "what about all the AI stuff? where does that go?" well, reader, I was planning on including that in the above but it's the hot-button issue right now and I think it's wickedly complicated, so I wanted to break it down separately, after I had a chance to point out all the good-bad-in-between stuff that's not getting talked about.

a note: in my career, I've learned there's two big things to keep in mind when reading a contract you might sign:

what is the worst case interpretation of this language (thank you to my lawyer, prince among men, for teaching me how to do this in practice (that said, anything I say here is not legal advice, he'd also want me to say that lol))

what are you willing to lose/compromise on/what are the limits of your pragmatism? contracts are not about a company giving you everything you want out of the goodness of their heart - it is always a compromise. pragmatism has to be a part of the equation.

so, with that said, I'm going to play a little devil's advocate here, and a) try to find the good/the pragmatic and b) catastrophize the worst case scenario. but first, it might be handy to look at this SAG infographic for some basic definitions. let's go.

the AI good

a ton of stuff here requires consent. that is not a small thing, and the consent continues even after your death (whether it was a yes or no; though this can be complicated by your estate/your union)

the language does establish that the consent must be a separate signing from the employment contract, even if its in the contract, which is great (but more on that below - timing matters)

actors often do get paid for use of their digital replicas, though it's different based on the use/type of replica.

the actor must be provided with a "reasonably specific description of the intended use". this language is vaguer than I would like, because it allows producers to decide what "reasonably specific" and "intended" means - there's always going to be some vagueness when it comes to this specific thing, but a good start would be for producers to require not blanket consent, but conditional consent for each significant use of digital replicas.

if the replicas are being used in other mediums, that must also be consented to, thank god.

replicas cannot be used in place of background actor counts on a given day - if I'm understanding this correctly, this means a production can't just have a bunch of fake background actors by themselves, they have to engage real people up to a certain number first (which in this new contract is 25 for TV and 85 for movies). we're already filling in background with digital people or copy-pasting of the same crowd over and over and have been doing so since at least the late 90s, so it's good we're continuing to put up boundaries around that.

the AI "...hm..."

it's unclear (to me) when an actor can be asked to consent. IMO, everything is meaningless if the consent is happening as part of regular contract negotiations. these things have to happen when - and only when - the actor has already been engaged in a role and feels empowered to say no

the use of independently created replicas (replicas pulled from existing footage, not created by the actor) being allowed without consent under first amendment reasoning - this is obviously concerning a lot of people bc first amendment arguments are so broad. that said, there's a pragmatism part of me that understands this is already happening/has been happening for a while and used in ways I think are perfectly fine - I was just watching the new episode of For All Mankind (one of the best TV shows right now!) and it's an alternate history, which meant that in the opening scenes of this season they had some bonkers good deep fakes of Al Gore saying stuff he never said. I think that's okay to do in a fiction show that imagines a different US history! "but Lauren", you might be saying, "Al Gore isn't a member of SAG!" are you sure? are you positive? because I'm pretty certain he is - he was in several episodes of 30 Rock, way more people are in SAG than you think (every NPR reporter for instance), and the two worst presidents we've had in the last 50 years (yes, those ones), are both definitely members of SAG (even if one is dead). now, the other side of this is that public figures like politicians are under a different social contract than actors, and if they wanted to sue, they could, unlike the average SAG actor who might have their image abused. this is why this is in the "hm" column - deep fakes and parody/satire/commentary use of replicas is already here and there's always going to be a 1st amendment argument to make, so we need to figure out how best to limit those and protect the most vulnerable.

alteration: with this language, a project can digitally alter without consent if the script and performance stays "substantially" the same. again, this language is too mealy-mouthed. I don't know that I have a huge problem with a line of dialogue getting replaced with a digital version of that actors voice if, for instance, a word was mispronounced, or wind garbled the sound or whatever - yes, it would eliminate the need for ADR, but if we put some limit on it like..."if there are more than 5 lines in a given episode/movie that require digital alteration in the service of clarity, the actor must be engaged for an ADR session or paid for the digital replacement" then I could see this being workable. I'm also personally okay with things like costumes being digitally altered but, again, we need limitations on that. digital altering cannot replace the art of costuming but, for instance, if a costume needs to be altered to include a hate symbol or something, I think that's fine (example: I have friends who worked at the VFX house for an alternate history TV show that involved a lot of Nazi costuming and set design - a huge part of that VFX house's job was to put swastikas in places, rather than props making nazi flags. I'm okay with that!) but again, these fringe cases do not a compelling arugment make, and this contract language can be interpreted too broadly for my comfort! like everything else in this "hm" category, I need to see the final contract language to decide.

the AI bad

there's a bunch of circumstances in which actors don't get paid for creating their replica/use of it and those circumstances are too broad for my taste.

synthetic performers - this is just awful. no. no, we should not be allowing AI to generate entire actors. just............no. there's some language about the producers having to talk to the union if the synthetic performer is "used in place of a performer who would have been engaged under this Agreement in a human role" but this doesn't apply to non-human characters so....wouldn't that be all roles?? leaving the producers room to be like "this role has to be synthetic, we never would've cast a human!" is bullshit. also, even if we're having AI create a magical talking unicorn whole cloth (which, like, also no, we have artists for this), that unicorn still needs to be voiced by a human person. this whole section is a disaster.

the exceptions to consent for digital alteration are bad-bad. I talked about the potential ADR replacement above and that has a whole host of issues with it that I didn't even get into, but I can see the argument. the rest are very troubling:

there is an exception under "any circumstance when dubbing or use of a double is permitted under the Codified Basic Agreement or Television Agreement" - okay, so does this mean we can replace dubbing artists and stunt performers entirely? this section is about digital alteration, but who's to say alteration couldn't turn an actor broadly miming a fight into an entirely digital, expertly performed fight that usually a stunt double would have done? with AI translation technology, does this mean we're replacing VO artists for dubs entirely? bad!

similarly, "Adjusting lip and/or other facial or body movement and/or the voice of the performer to a foreign language, or for purposes of changes to dialogue or photography necessary for license or sale to a particular market" - Justine Bateman has a great twitter thread on the terrible puppetry potential of this but I want to draw attention to the particular market bit - we all know that selling to china is such a huge part of studios' strategies that they'll remove entire scenes or lines around queer stuff. to me, this clause makes all of that so much easier. I know the argument here is going to be "we can replace swear words and license it for kids!" which.......sure? fine? but, uh, we already have ways to deal with that? and the potential for abuse here is terrifying to me. with all the digital alteration stuff too, there's just so much icky implication for the beauty/body standard to get so much worse.

if a background actor’s digital replica is used in the role of a principal performer, they'll be paid as if they actually performed the days for that role, which, sure, but uhhhh why are we saying it's okay for a digital replica of a background actor to suddenly be a leading role!?!?! I can't think of anything more demoralizing than going to set to act in background (a job I've done! an important job! a fun job a lot of the time! but creatively limited) and then getting a much bigger role (the dream!) and.....not being able to, you know, act that role or be in scenes with other principal actors or do the thing that you've dedicated your life to doing. nightmare stuff.

woof. there's so much more to say but I'm going to leave it there. these are the concerns I'm going to go into SAG's meetings with, and the concerns I'll be considering as I decide how to vote. I know there are things I didn't address and very possibly things I misinterpreted or misrepresented - if you're an actor, I highly recommend a) reading that Justine Bateman thread and b) attending SAG's meetings to ask questions and express your concerns. and I'd love to hear what y'all think! my ask box is open.

[hearteyes-for-killmonger]

Double Jeopardy

Story Plot: You are Serenity, an identical twin. Your sister, Trinity, has a man at home named Erik Stevens, but he's in the way of her date with Cabo. She enlists you to keep him on ice until she gets back.

*Now it all has to play out. Trinity is gone and you're at Erik's. Part 3.

Written for @nahimjustfeelingit-writes

TRINITY.

The universe was kicking her ass as if to tell her to stay in Louisiana, but if she was stubborn enough to mess with married men, narcissists, and drug dealers, a stinging finger and a broken shoe wouldn't stop her. The plane was delayed. She sighed and paced, upset she'd miss her connecting flight, but the airport worked it out where she'd get there, eventually.

"My flight's dalayed," she sighed on the phone with Gio. She knew he wasn't buying her another ticket.

"By how long?"

"A few hours, but they were cool. I got a different flight. I should be in Cabo by 5:30 PM tomorrow."

"That's no good, I'm getting there at 3."

"It's a two and a half hour difference. Can you hang around?"

"I've got business, Trinity. I can't wait around for you to show up."

Trinity bit her lip in irritation before responding. "Fine. Send me the address for the villa and-"

"I'll see you then. Make sure you bring your things up to the second floor." Click.

Trinity growled, irritated but used to being hung up on and ignored by men like this. She was on her own, which was actually fine. It gave her time to think. If she were a man with money, where would she be? Probably boarding last. Her ticket wasn't first class, but she did have a way to be noticed. Her boobs were huge. If she bent the right way and struggled with her bag a bit, she'd get get some eyes.

She gave it a shot and kept going to her seat, figuring if it worked, it worked, and if not, oh well. Hours later, she woke up, realizing she'd slept on the shoulder of the woman sitting beside her. She had to take down her suitcase and nearly run to her connecting flight on the other side of the airport. Once boarded, she collapsed and texted Ren about the delay. She mentally prepared herself for the longest flight she'd ever been on. Luckily, she brought her headphones, and they had movies.

"Omg," she complained, her butt starting to ache from sitting. She'd already gone to the on-flight portapotty three times. The flight was so long she wondered how other women did it so easily. She wanted to be flewn out to Cabo and Maldives, but the travel portion was rough. Arriving was like being set free from jail.

She found the taxis and checked her cash app and zelle, not at all surprised that Gio hadn't sent anything. She was paying out of pocket to get to the villa herself, and the humidity was thickening up her silk press. When she got there, she paid the driver money to take up her bags. She was determined to make Gio reimburse her.

"GIO," she shouted, finding him relaxed in shorts with a bottle of wine, a cigar, and another woman.

"Trinity," he smiled. "Come on over."

Trinity was in shock. She thought he'd tell whatever other girl he had as a replacement to not come because she was coming. But here he was with another pretty bitch. Tuh! She put on her game face and wiggled onto the barstool.

"I need you to pay the driver for bringing up my bags."

"Give em this." He handed her a couple bills like take it and go before turning back to the other girl.

Trinity walked away, pocketing the money as her reimbursement. She wanted to put her things in her room and look around, but she had to keep tabs on Gio and that woman, so she ended up going back and pushing her way into the conversation.

It was now a competition between her and the other girl, Tyra, for Gio's attention and wallet. She would not lose.

ERIK.

Keeping up with Trinity's mood swings has been an olympic sport for Erik since they got together. She keeps pulling him in, then pushing him away. In the past, he would easily cheat, but he's changing.

He walks into the house with the bag of meats he picked up from the market on his way home to chef it up right quick. "Trinity," he calls since she likes to watch him cook. He freezes at the sight of an empty sink. He expected to have to do dishes first before he cleaned the meat. "What the fuck is this," he stared as she walked in and sat at the table.

"What?"

"You did dishes?"

"Even I clean sometimes, Erik. You act like it's a phenomenon."

He couldn't do nothing but stare. Suddenly she was looking real fuckable. "You know this is how you get that good dick right? Don't keep doing shit like this if you don't want that back broke, I'll make her leak, baby, don't do it..."

Her eyes were big when he said that. He laughed, but kept it in the back of his mind, like an invisible punch card. Let her do it about two or three more times, she'd be getting The Dick and maybe some shoes or a bracelet, something.

"Come on. You wanna watch how I do it," he called when it was time to season. She'd do that part, but she hated touching meat... Ironic... "Go'head," he waited, watching her pick up the seasoning and pause. She went and got a different spice on her own. "Oh, you getting creative," his brow went up. He knew what seasonings worked together, but did she? Yes she did, he determined seeing that she wanted to add thyme and rosemary. He'd do it that way sometimes. Maybe she actually did pay attention rather than stare at his hands. "Medium right," he asked, searing the steak as the shrimp and grits cooked.

"You know me so well."

He did. She was a creature of habit. Wasn't hard to predict what she'd want or what she'd prefer. All he had to do was pay attention. That was his specialty. As senior underwriter, he had to have his finger on the pulse of what people wanted. He had 10 years of experience reading people. It was key to market intelligence.

"Why you keep looking at me like that?"

Erik eyes kept finding hers, trying to figure out what she had up her sleeve. She had to be scheming something, she was being productive and hadn't called him nigga once.

"Because you're beautiful, and I like looking at you. Is that cool with you?" He watched her closely.

"Don't overcook my steak looking at me, nigga."

He smirked. Nah, she was definitely herself. They ate in front of the TV watching Deliver Me. Then he took their plates to the sink and washed them, coming back to the couch for a little loving.

She blocked his face with her whole hand as he tried to kiss her neck. "Popcorn?" She jumped up.

"No," his eyes rolled. "You going to bed early?" That's what she usually did when she ain't want to be close.

"I wanna actually watch the show," she laughed. "We can lay up, but easy on me."

"Aight..." At least she didn't leave. She laid on him, getting comfortable as they watched TV. This way, he could rub his thumb gently down her arm while re-memorizing the feel of her skin, the way her hair looks, her neck, her hands.. her nails.. did she change em? It was a weird thing to notice, but he paid attention to things about her. Like how she'd cut her finger two days ago from a metal piece on her shoe that she got pissed about and threw down the stairs. He raised the finger up to his eye. It had been a small and fast healing cut, but he would still be able to see a line in the skin or something.

"Can I have my hand back? Thank you!" She snatched it away to shovel popcorn in her mouth.

"Yeah," he muttered, giving her a stank look behind her back. He reached in the popcorn bag, mildly surprised when she didn't make a fuss. "Trinity," he stared, knowing this wasn't normal. She ignored him until he sighed, letting it go but subtly smelling her neck to confirm she smelled the same.

"Hm?" She answered him delayed.

He couldn't put his finger on it, but something was off. Maybe he was tripping. Cuts heal, and women change their minds about everything. Trinity was all over the place, so it made sense. "Nothing."

"Okay, then watch the show and shut up, dummy."

"The fuck you calling a dummy, dummy?"

"You, dumbass."

SERENITY.

It's starting to get hard being mean to Erik all the time. He isn't a bad guy, just a little clingy, and also, who has the energy? You want to enjoy a vacation, and to you, being a dominatrix is work. You're a lover, not a fighter. So is Erik.

"Time to get up and make my money," you hover over his bed, tapping his cheek to wake him up bright and early.

His face scrunches as he looks up like he's angry, through one eye. "Why are you up so early?"

"To wake you up so you can get a good start. Also, I want breakfast. I'm thinking pancakes?"

"Then get it, the fuck?" He starts to fall back asleep so fast.

You hide your urge to laugh. You had to see if he'd do it. He does everything else. "Come oooon, make me pancakessss," you whine, sliding into bed beside him over the blanket.

"The fuck, Trinity. Get out... What time is it?"

On cue, his alarm sounds. He groans and closes his eyes, annoyed. Mission accomplished for now. You smile and pull off his covers, kissing his forehead and running back to your room to lay down. It feels so damn good not going to work! You frolic under the warmth of the blankets, excited to sleep in. You could get used to a life like this. He cooks, he cleans, and he pays the bills. Why couldn't God bless you by making him twice? You roll over and text Trinity to ask her the same question, but you know she's not reading that until she's off her flight.

"Trinity," he yells on his way out.

"Yes," you sit up watching the hall.

"Do something you're proud of today. Don't let time get away from you."

"Okay?"

He leaves. You hear the door shut. Two hours later, you wake up, ready to cook breakfast and head out in a bright and shining Benz to do God knows what. Anything. Sky's the limit as long as you're back to entertain Erik when he's off work. You don't remember when you last engaged in a hobby or something fun outside of meeting up with Trinity, your college friends, or going on twin swaps. You could go thrifting or antiquing, but Trinity wouldn't bring that shit back home. What about golf? You could, but going alone? It's not as fun. You decide to hit the gym so you can keep the body you and Trinity share in common. Pretty milk dud is there again doing chin-ups, and you hesitate on whether or not to talk to him. With all the fake dating, you've had plenty of practice by now. It should be simple. Then again, if you were going to, you should've approached him before your stint on the stairmaster. You're sweating through your sports bra and your shorts... But fuck it. It's been long enough! You wanna know right now if he's interested.

You walk right up to the bars and wait until he acknowledges you standing there. He finishes his set and drops drops down.

"Hey," you squint up at him, catching every bounce of his tight chocolate muscles. "I see you in here a lot. You training for something?"

"I'm Serenity. You lookin kinda cut there Kelce," you flirt, giving him interest. You're not hiding it. You've been horny and he's picking it up.

"Just workin' out," he lifts his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face. You nearly go feral. "I'm Kelce." He reaches, and you shake his hand, wanting all of his sweat on you. Trinity said his name was Jarrell. She think any nigga named Jarrell.

"You live near here?"

You give him landmarks to know just how close your apartment is. He does the same. He's only fifteen minutes from you.

"Is that right," you stare, holding his eye. "Show me."

"You ain't said nothing..." He wastes no time leading you out once you snatch up your belongings. You climb into his car, and he takes you to his apartment, where the two of you start stripping and kissing as soon as you get in the door. "One second." He only needs to run get a condom from his drawer and come back. You grab him again, kissing him like a maniac as he pins you against the wall. You barely get to see the dick before it's in you, thrusting, and he picks you up to wrap your legs around his ass.

The salty sweat begins to fall again off of his face and body onto you, but you lick it off his forehead, possessed by lust. Your nails are pressed into his neck and shoulders.

"You gotta mirror?" You would love nothing more than to see the two of you, especially his body in the mirror.

"Oh, you nasty," he mutters, carrying you automatically to his room. On the way you happen to see what looks like a wedding picture of him and a blonde white woman. There's even kid's stuff in the other room with the open door.

Hell nah, you think in your mind, but you don't stop because it feels good a shit and it's been a while. He's holding you in the air with no support so you can see yourself in the mirror as you grip him and moan, bouncing on dick.

"Oh, you midnight motherfucker," you growl in his ear, putting his wife and kid out of your mind.

"Fuck," he shouts sharply, fucking you faster until your eyes cross and he starts shouting "Ah! Ah! Ah! Ahhh! Ahhh..."

Breathing heavily, you're dropped to your feet. You pull the stuck condom out of yourself and take a deep breath. He looks like he almost blacked out.

"You okay," you ask. He nods quickly, still catching his breath and you go pick up your clothes to put em back on. "Mind if I," you point to the fridge hoping for bottled water.

"Go'head."

You open it and there's gogurt and kids juices. You feel semi-bad in taking one, but not that bad. You sip it in the car as he drops you back outside the gym next to the Benz.

"Nice ride," he nods. You smile and get out, sitting in the Benz to contemplate what the hell just happened. It was a lot. You need to tell Trin. This was the thottiest thotty bop, and it's hard to wait for her to get back to talk about it, but you might have to. She's in Mexico and she probably isn't able to call you.

Throwing your head against the headrest because you're antsy to talk, you decide to go out to the boat ramp and watch boats. Why not? Once there, you sit out and wonder who you could tell about having sex with a married man you met at the gym. There isn't anyone you can really tell that type of thing to but Trinity.

"Dammit, Trinity. Why didn't you download something so I could talk to you?" You kiss your teeth. You hadn't thought much about doing that either until now.

"Hey," you answer Trinity's phone seeing Erik's name.

"What you doing?"

You look around. "Nothing, why?"

"Thinkin bout you."

How do you respond to that as Trinity? "I'd be concerned if you didn't. How's work today?"

"Repetitive. Redundant. Save me."

"You want me to stop by?"

"Hell yeah."

"Cool. I'll be over there," you hang up, smiling. There's something refreshing about a man who knows what he wants and isn't ashamed to say it. You like him. He's sweet...

"Good job, Trinity," you say like she can actually hear you. "It's about time you pick a nigga who actually likes you." You feel like you can sleep at night when she's with Erik.

"It's a relaxing day," you remember, suddenly, feeling the sweet air of freedom. For a while, you just sit on the grass and enjoy being outdoors and watching the trees move in the breeze behind the murky water.

"OK, that's enough of that," you get up, swatting at the little flies. Erik sent the SOS signal. He needs a little fun in his life, and you wanna see more of how he acts in a public setting. You also wanna drive by his job to be nosey about the location. It's in Trinity's saved GPS searches, which makes things easy.

"They not like us. They not like us. They not like us." You decide to stop for sushi and get a lot in case Erik also likes sushi. If not, you can always say you meant to eat it all because you don't mind doing it.

Then the thoughts come back. It's hard not to think how you feel about your sister going abroad with some asshole who cares only about himself. You hope Trinity can handle herself. You can't get to her in Cabo like you got to her in college when Ty was going upside her head. She's gonna have to figure it out and get back home safely. That's her challenge.

As for Erik, he needs a thicker backbone. He lets Trinity walk all over him, and why can't he candle her? All that big mathematical brain and muscle just to be a bitch. That's your one issue with him so far. If he were more stern and put his foot down, Trinity would snap into shape. She's used to being put in her place, just by the wrong niggas. She needs the right nigga and he could be the right nigga. If only you could tell him that...

"I should write that in my journal..." You suddenly have the itch to get back to the house, but you get to where Erik's office is and you call him to come out. He's out almost instantly, meeting you on the bench.

"Sup widdit," you eye him, noting his drip. He's the refined fine. The fine who could meet your parents, attend your office Christmas parties, and go down a runway. You almost tell him how good he looks, but you remember that Trinity would never compliment a man.

He whooshes air, showing that he's stressed. "This shit is ass. Why is it unacceptable to hit people?"

"I be wondering the same thing," your mind goes to your own office. "I be wanting to slap bitches daily."

"After 10 years, they forget I'm from Compton."

Finally, someone who gets it.

"Wait, you from Compton?" It leaves your mouth before you think about it and you cringe inside. That's something Trin would know.

"Yeah, born and raised. Lived with my granny after my parents died. Then I went to university at 16 and graduated. Got my masters after that."

"16?!" It's all being logged in your brain so you won't have to ask again and do a repeat. "Great deg. Okay... Okay..." That's going in the journal. "How about this. Tell me something else cool that I don't know about you."

He looks smug. "You interested in my life now?"

"Well, I'm with you. Of course I am."

"Hm? Since when? You never ask me anything about my past."

Dammit, Trin. You make a note to write that down, too. She's fumbling! Talk about fumbling a bag.

"I care now! Tell me something about you." You grab the sushi and open it up, leaving space for him to grab what he wants. "You eat sushi?"

"I do eat sushi. You offering?"

This nigga. You turn in toward him so he can fully get what you're about to say. "Look. I'm a say this once and never again, so you'd better listen and don't ask me shit once I say it. Stop asking for permission in everything. Find your balls and nut up. Women respect men who can tell them what to do and if you're a man who knows what to do, why not TELL her what to do?"

"Noted," he sniffs, taking the sushi he wants.

That's it? No further... anything? You side-eye him, wondering if he truly understands.

"I'm thinking," he shares, seeing you looking. "Something about me... I speak three other languages fluently."

"You don't!"

"I do. I speak German, Cantonese, and French. I'm conversational in Xhosa."

"Did you just click?"

He laughs.

"And you never told me this?" You're shocked. Trinity didn't tell you this. This seems like a cool thing to mention had she known.

"You never asked. Now that you're asking, you might be interested in knowing I also have a home in Wakanda. I have dual citizenship, and I like to travel."

"Who are you?" You stare, shocked and impressed. This man is a jackpot. Trinity hasn't been asking the right questions.

Again, he laughs and takes more sushi. "Your face is priceless right now."

"I'm just... processing. What time is it," you check the phone. He's been sitting with you a little while.

"I'm not trippin'. I go back when I go back. I ain't finna work no faster."

You laugh, feeling that to the core. "Baby, they think I won't flip a table. I will flip everything."

"Who be pissing you off," he smirks. "Nah. What you be doing to have you all mad?"

"Nothing, I'm just saying..."

"Hmph. Oh aight. I work this hard so you can stay stress free. Don't tell me I gotta slap someone?"

"Nah, nigga," you feel yourself smiling like he's talking to you. You have to remind yourself that he's talking to Trinity. Ain't no man riding for you like this. It's kinda depressing. "Anyway. What we doing later. I was thinking we should go out either today or tomorrow."

"Go where?"

Erik.

Trinity wanted to go to the club with him just to spend time and dance. He'd be too drained to go that night, but he could give it a few hours tomorrow just to make her happy.

They parted ways, and he went back to work, thinking of their conversation for the rest of the day until he got off. Then it was time to plan dinner. He decided that since it was his turn to choose, he'd make pasta. It was quick, and he didn't need to do too much. He already had ingredients. He went in the house with a one track mind. Make the pasta and a salad before Trinity comes down. She's less likely to complain if the food is already on the stove.

He didn't call her this time. She came down on her own in pj's watching tiktoks.

"You started without me. I wanted to watch," she complained until she smelled the sauce. "Ooh pasta."

Surprisingly, dinner went well. Trinity didn't complain about it once, so Erik saw the perfect opportunity to test her little speech from before. Could he really take off the kid gloves and speak to her like an adult? He'd been trying. She tended to react in unpredictable ways and completely break down when he tried, but he'd give it another shot if she was saying she was ready. Starting with her share of the housework.

"Aight Trinity, I need you to look at me real quick and listen up."

She did it so easily it was like she was trying to prove a point.

"From this point forward, I'm gonna expect more from you around the house," he stared, waiting for her to disagree. "You're on dishes and I want this house spotless by the time I get home every day. Ain't nobody in this bitch but you all day. You can keep it clean."

"And if I don't?"

"You will," he checked her, serious about her pitching in.

"And if I DON'T," she repeated, digging for an answer. If she wanted him to put his foot down, it wasn't a problem.

"I've been waiting on you to be psychologically ready before I really say some shit. I guess you can handle it," he warned, giving her the chance to go back. "Okay. I'll shoot straight since that's what I do. You're lazy. You're immature. And I'm not kicking you out because this is your home, too." Until he gets fed up was the unspoken part. He could see himself getting there sooner rather than later. "But bitch you gonna do something. I keep telling you to find a passion that ain't shopping. If I come home any day this week and this house is not spotless, and you haven't worked on ONE thing to bring in money? You're selling something. A dress, shoes, jewelry, something."

She was supposed to be selling on her online shop anyway, but somehow she never had money of her own or so she claimed whenever she came begging.

"That's fair," she nods, crossing her leg with a smile. "You could even be more strict if you wanted."

"Oh word? I might get too carried away," Erik admitted. He already had been making reckless comments in his head all this time, trying to be sensitive to her needs and be a good boyfriend. Looking at her face now, she wanted the smoke. It was turning her on.

"Then how bout this. You see those dishes? Handle that," he pointed with his head.

"More," she smiled, eating it up. She was really getting horny!

He knew exactly what to do, and it was lowkey exciting him as well. It was what came natural. He looked her in the eye first to be sure before rolling his eyes.

"Fine. Get the fuck up and wash these dishes, NOW."

"Okay! I'm doing it," she raised her arms in surrender, heading to the sink.

He shook his head, containing his escaping smile. "Sick... Something is wrong with you, but I'm a put it right."

"You gone put me in my place?" She looked back, causing his dick to awaken, but he had to keep hold of the situation, or he'd get distracted and bend her over the counter. That's probably what she wanted. Shit, it was what he wanted.

"Matter fact, lemme watch you to make sure you're doing it right. No shortcuts."

He stood close behind her over her shoulder, his hard dick on top of her ass with only their clothes in between.

"Mhm," she hummed, doing what he'd never witnessed since she moved in. He smoothed her hair back into a low ponytail in his hand, gently tugging her head back against his chest so he could whisper down in her ear.

"Say Yes Sir."

Her breaths were shallow, her chest rising. "Yes, sir," she mustered. "...Can I finish? Sir," she tacked on cringing at the feel of his breath on her neck again. She was folding, and he was enjoying it.

"Finish," he let go of her hair, moving away. She was moving like Molly Maid. He'd have to buy her a maid outfit so he could really enjoy the view. Until then, his eyes were glued to her curves and the way they moved. "Uh-uh, I ain't see you get the baseboards," he moved around, just being petty now in an attempt to get her on all fours.

"Hire someone," she turned, making him laugh. She said demo over. She ain't going that far. Honestly, it was further than Erik expected.

"When you're done, bring yo ass upstairs to my room. I got you something."

"A gift?" She looked pleasantly surprised.

"Yeah. Come get it when you're done."

He ran upstairs to his room, bringing his things with him to put to the side and hit the shower. Both him and Trinity had one.

"I'm here," she yelled from his bedroom. He waited for her to walk in his bathroom so he could talk to her without the water drowning him out. She ended up coming to the door and calling for him again.

"Aye Trin, do me a favor and me bring that body scrub you be using. The fruity one."

She left, and when she returned, she seemed hesitant to come close to the shower for some reason. But she had to hand him the body scrub, which was why he'd asked for it, to make her come closer. She was trying not to look at him. Acting shy?

"Trin," he reached, waiting for her to step closer to open the shower door. He took the scrub but grabbed her hand and pulled her, laughing inwardly at her small shriek. She struggled and used her body weight to lean away, but he took it as a challenge. "You wanna be picked up," he gathered, finding humor in the whole situation.

"No I don't. No I don't. No I don't," she said fast, still pulling away and averting her eyes.

"Yeah you do." He picked her up off the ground briefly and put her in the shower so she wouldn't slip, closing her in. "You act like you ain't seen me naked a hundred times," he smirked, seeing her still close her eyes and take a deep breath. When she opened her eyes, he was down in her face. "Hello."

"STOP! Let me out!" She pushed him, sliding the door. He closed it, thinking it was the funniest shit.

"You really selling this shy girl routine." The hem of her pj's were soaked. Blocking the stream of water with his body, he touched her chin and got her death glare, so he then did what any boyfriend would do and started touching her everywhere.

"Stop touching me!"

"Uh-uh," he grabbed her, getting her fully soaked in her embrace until she relaxed. "Why you wanna be shy all of a sudden?"

She tried again to pull away.

"Oh that? You feel him," he teased, handing her his washcloth. "You polish him off nice and clean, I'll let you go."

He watched her go through a full range of emotions on the spot before wrapping the cloth in her hand around his shaft and sliding it.

"Be thorough," he prompted, eyes on her as she finally looked down at his hard dick to do it right. She was gonna look at him one way or another in all his glory. There was still resistance in her gaze. "Good, now keep stroking it," he ordered, blocking the exit. "Stroke my shit."

"I CAN'T DO THIS," she yelled, stopping. He stepped aside, letting her out.

Something was wrong. Typical Trinity would've went slut mode and wanted to fuck all night. This behavior was extremely abnormal.

SERENITY.

Your heart is beating so fast as you lock yourself in Trinity's room to hold your heated face and pace. You need space between you and that man so you don't turn around and go back. That man has been plotting on Trinity all day, but you didn't know he would come out the gate like Kevin Gates. You didn't know he was carrying like that either. You barely made it. If you weren't such a good sister, you'd have done that shit! But no! The sacrifices you make for love!

"Trin," he calls from outside the door, making you pause and stare at it like it might open. "You good?"

"Yeah, I'm good! I'm going to bed. All that cleaning wiped me out."

"Lame. Well I'm going to bed too. Give you your gift tomorrow I guess."

"Definitely! Sleep well!"

Stressing, you sink down in Trinity's chair with your journal and start writing as images of Erik's wet and glistening body fill your mind. His smile and his face. His voice. The proximity, him being so close while smelling so good. The size of his- Again, it's a lot of ink to spill and somehow still not enough. The man is your ideal. He's everything you've written into your standards, and he's hard and ready to ride at the other end of the hall. You bite your finger for release.

'It's hard,' you write. 'Everything in me wants to drain the life force from his balls, but I can't.'

You're clutching your fist as you write.

'It's only the first full day. Trinity has no idea how much STRENGTH it takes to be her sister.'

TRINITY.

Trinity was finally in a thong and on a boat on top of crystal blue water under the shining sun. It was as she'd always envisioned, but being there was much better than the pictures. The only downer in the moment was Tyra's presence. Tyra was slowly becoming the bane of Trinity's existence. She was the perfect smiling bimbo, never a frown unless it was a subtle shot to Trinity behind Gio's field of vision. She was a pro and a pleaser. Trinity was just a pro. She planned on letting Tyra have Gio as soon as she got back to Louisiana.

For now, however, it was game on. This was a battle for Gio's wallet, but also for pride.

"It was sooo funny," Tyra grinned, a sleepy look on her face as she told the most boring story about her bathing suit mishap and gazed at the man who was kicked back with his cigar and propped up Sperry's. Trinity was thinking, 'Give me a break.' Anyone with a brain could see that she was trying to seduce him. She was corny and a suck-up. But Gio was never one to care as long as it fed his inflated ego.

"Oh please," Trinity scoffed, shaking off Tyra's attempt at bedroom demeanor. "I've got a real joke. How about this: A woman walks out of the bathroom, winks at her husband, and says, 'I shaved down there; you know what that means?' The husband responds, 'Yeah, the drain is clogged.'"

Being married and hating his wife, Gio genuinely chuckled.

"What do you call a lesbian dinosaur," she asked, getting his full attention. "A Lickalotopus." She'd learned that one in college and like a kid in college, he laughed again. Trinity shrugged with pride, having beat Tyra in this round.

"That's why I invited you," Gio sat up, taking off his thin shirt. "Now watch this. I'm about to flip right off the ledge." And impulsively, he got a running start and did it. He flipped into the water, shouting, "WHOO! YEAH!"

Trinity held her nose and jumped next, being a good swimmer. Another round was won in her mind. She sunk into the blue and swam up with her legs almost like a mermaid, swinging her long hair out of her face when she emerged. Her silk press had long died, but she wasn't afraid of her curls, and she knew neither was Gio. He knew he'd invited a black girl. That's why he was so shocked and excited, shouting when he saw she'd jumped in.

Tyra was still on the boat.

"Jump down," Gio called for her, but she wouldn't do it. Trinity kept her face straight to look at Gio, but the imp in her was laughing. Tyra couldn't swim, and the black girl could. Nananananana.

They spent a good amount of time sailing on the boat, feeling the fresh cool air, eating on the boat. The table setting was divine compared with the food and the atmosphere. It was the life.

Trinity only thought of home when she was back in her room in the villa changing clothes. She imagined her sister was getting rest, and Erik was taking care of her, being perfect and shit. They could be pretty and perfect together, she thought bitterly. In actuality, it hurt her to think of them hitting it off, and that's why she'd been putting so much energy into this Tyra and Gio thing. She needed a distraction from her swirling emotions. They were like a weakness.

What if he goes for her? She froze putting on her dress. What if they've already slept together and Ren doesn't know how to tell me? Anger filled Trinity's entire body. She knew she shouldn't be angry or shaking. She was just in her own head, and she hated it. She couldn't stay with Erik if he made her feel this possessive. She was afraid of what she might do out of jealousy which would confirm her as crazy and push him away anyway.

There was just so much! Her thoughts kept returning to the fact that she was too damaged. He deserved better, but did she want to let him go was still the question. He'll no, he paid the billsss. It was selfish. She was so selfish.

[thephooka]

Happy Webcomic Day! My webcomic White Noise is a labor of love--according to Procreate, this page took me 15.5 hours to complete.* Here's a look into that process!

Some other notes:

The thumbnails are done on graph paper and I script while I do them--there is no separate written script for White Noise. I usually spent a couple hours on weekends as needed thumbnailing, sometimes at a coffee shop or at home listening to records.

I then set up the file in Photoshop, so I can lay in the text and use the template I have with bleeds already set up. The text is rasterized and I shuttle the file over to my iPad via Airdrop.

The bulk of the actual work is done in Procreate, which records timelapses that I sometimes share to my Patreon. I usually spend a couple hours most nights after my day job or on the bus commuting doing this.

Once everything art-wise is done, I shuttle the file back over to my desktop to re-set in the text, add a stroke around the speech bubbles (Procreate doesn't have that took fsr) and do the resizing/exporting for web.

On Sunday mornings I get up, queue the page and write the page descriptions. I don't spend any time on the page descriptions outside of that.

Also, this process goes for the whole first arc of White Noise. I'm done with that arc (which means you can binge the whole thing I'm js!!) and am experimenting with some different methods these days, but my workflow is still generally the same.

*Some more talk about the labor (and burnout) involved below the cut:

This particular page (and most of the pages I did in 2023) took a lot longer than normal because I was heading into a burnout period that I'm still lowkey in/recovering from. It's obvious to me now in retrospect watching the timelapse here and seeing how much noodling I'm doing and how much I'm struggling with the process, but at the time I was just very frustrated generally. When I'm not burned tf out pages take maybe 10 hours max.

2023 was a pretty stressful year--lots of big life changes, uncertainty, pet death, health issues--so it's no wonder it propelled me into burnout, but it just goes to show that even the slowest and steadiest pace is not sustainable forever. I've been doing one page a week following this general process for over a decade! And I stuck to that pace because I knew it was one I could maintain. But even so, by the end of this arc I found myself working more and more slowly, not really looking forward to the work, feeling anxious about being behind, unhappy with the finished work, and extremely annoyed with myself for not being able to give it my all right there at the finish line.

I did stop for a while after the epilogue and took a more or less complete break from drawing for about a month--the longest I have EVER gone without drawing, much less working on White Noise--which did help, but these days my ability to work is...inconsistent. I should probably take another total break, but I'm reluctant. What if my passion never comes back? What if people forget about WN? It's already pretty obscure, and with the general social media collapse, it's harder than ever to get people to read my work. Now that I've left Hiveworks, WN doesn't even get the benefit of being linked to other comics (although objectively very, very few readers actually got referred to my comic that way.) And frankly, I'm also just too proud to go too long without comic updates. I've always told myself, I might not be the best artist or the fastest worker or make a popular comic, but I'm consistent. Difficult to let that go.

This is all to say that webcomics are hard. We do them because we love them, we have stories to tell, we are seized with the human compulsion to create. We spend hours of our time, almost always on top of the paying work that allows us to eat, to make something that we then give away for free. It has consequences on us that the reader doesn't often see, no matter how careful we are about it. If you ask me, webcomics deserve to be valued more.

Happy Webcomic Day! Read webcomics!

[devotedlykoneshots]

NAKAMOTO YUTA : SUGAR DADDY

Genre: 18+ , minors dni, 🔞, sugar daddy plot, yuta is persistent, straight filth at the end by bad.

Word count: 5,440 ( the longest fix I've ever written, I got too into it lmao)

---------

He was just a man, wealthy , young , attractive, successful businessman.

You were an average worker just getting by , living paycheck to paycheck.

You had met him at a restaurant and from the looks of it , he was in the middle of dinner with his colleagues and honestly you felt a little bit out of dress.

There they were chatting and laughing as they sat there in their expensive suits, while you sat there in a dress you found on sale at rainbow and you were waiting for your boyfriend.

Your very late boyfriend.

You're not sure when or how long he'd been staring at you but one of the guys definitely were looking your way , sipping on wine that was probably twice your rent as you sipped on water.

Your eyes only seemed to widen further as he excused himself and got up to walk over to your table, you dumbly looked around to see if he was walking towards someone behind you but when you turned around he was taking a seat in front of you.

"Can I help you?" You asked him and he ran his fingers through his burgundy hair.

"Sorry , I couldn't help but notice you were all alone"you snorted at the irony and shook your head.

"I'm just waiting for my boyfriend"you said and he raised an eyebrow at you.

"You got here before me and we've been here for 2 hours, why stay?"he asked and you looked down, you hadn't realized.

"Sorry , I don't mean to pry"he apologized and you shook your head.

"Something must've come up"you made yet another excuse for your boyfriend.

"Have you eaten?"he asked, as far as he knows you haven't and the water you'd been sipping on for hours was definitely warm by now.

"No"you said reluctantly and he turned his head to whistle at the waiter, waving him over.

"What are you doing?"you asked him and he raised his eyebrows at you, the what should have been obvious by now.

"You've been here for over two hours and you've yet to eat, what does it look like I'm doing?"he got sassy with you, further taking you back at the scene unfolding in front of you.

"She's ready to order"he tells the waiter and the employee turns to grab you a menu.

"You're crazy"you run your fingers through your hair , this was not how you expected your Friday night to go.

"You can thank me next time"he said as he stood up from your table and walked away.

"Next time? Wha-"you're cut off by your boyfriends arrival, your anger flaring up.

"What was that about?"he asked and you ignored him, asking him a question of your own.

"Where were you?"he sat down in front of you and grabbed your hand, rubbing his thumb on the back of it and usually you'd melt at his affection but tonight was not one of those times.

"Something came up"for 3 hours? You wanted to ask.

"So, you couldn't send me a text? Instead you allowed room for another man, a stranger - to buy me dinner at my favorite restaurant that you promised you'd do on our anniversary"you ended up snapping at him instead and this idiot ignored majority of your rant, focusing on one little part.

"He bought you dinner?"he'd asked , you almost wanted to slap some sense into him quite literally.

"Of course that's all you got from that"you rolled your eyes and took the menu from the waiter.

The rest of the night was spent with your boyfriend eating something cheap from the menu while you ate something you'd always wanted to try and drank the wine you'd been eyeing all night.

Your boyfriend finally got the hint, you wouldn't put up with his foolishness for much longer.

So you're not surprised to find a bouquet of roses (not your favorite) on your desk at work the next morning with a note from him.

You however couldn't help but think back to the man responsible for your boyfriends sudden change in attitude.

Who was he?

Your answer would come only 2 weeks later at a party with your friends, celebrating your best friends engagement.

"Since our anniversary he's really straightened up and I'm loving it really but it still angers me that all it took was another man showing interest in me to get his act together"you explained and karina raised her eyebrows.

"Who is this mystery man?" Jennie asked and you shrugged your shoulders.

"He never told me his name and I haven't seen him since"you tell her and she hums.

"We're in a better place because of it"you concluded and you honestly weren't expecting to see him at all for the rest of your life maybe but that's not how it works.

"Well cheers to that"yeji laughs and you all drown your shots , they all laugh and tease you as you're the last one to finish.

Just then the doors opens and a group of men enter the room, directly going to the VIP section and that's when you see him.

He's dressed different now and a lot more appetizing if you say so yourself,  he's dressed in all black and his sleeves are rolled up to show off his arms.

"Oh my god"you're quick yo turn around and your friends are instantly on alert.

"What?"they asked in unison, jihyo being the mom she is starts to rub your back.

"That's him, the one that bought me dinner"you told them and they whipped around to look for him but you weren't very specific.

"Where?"Karina asked.

"VIP section, to the left of the guy with the undercut"you tell them and after spotting him they turn to you, whispering but clearly wanting to yell.

"NO FUCKING WAY"

"WHAT?"you whisper , they obviously knew who he was.

"THATS NAKAMOTO YUTA, SUPER FUCKING RICH"Lisa makes her presence known.

"NOT RICH , WEALTHY"Jennie looks like she's about to bust a but just thinking about him.

"he's coming over"Karina is the most calm.

"What?"you turn around just in time to see him walking over to you.

"If we keep meeting up like this I'm gonna start thinking you're stalking me"he smirked and you never thought you'd find a man smirking hot but here we are.

"We both know who's really stalking who here"you roll your eyes and he snickers at your change in attitude from the last time you met.

"I just realized I never got your name"he said and you opened your mouth to say something witty but Jennie was faster.

"Its y/n, I'm Jennie"holding out her hand and he shakes it politely.

"Yuta"he never took his eyes off of you and you couldn't help but question what his intentions were.

"Do you wanna join us?"he asked and raising your eyebrows.

"I can't , I'm celebrating my best friends engagement"you turned down the offer and jihyo looks around dramatically.

"What engagement you talking about?"she asked and you burst out laughing , shaking your head at her silly antics.

"You're all welcome to join us"he offered and you shake your head, you couldn't.

"I have a boyfriend"you told him , it wasn't right.

"So do i"Jennie said but still strutted her way up to the VIP section and you sighed, going against your better judgement.

"Okay....lead the way"you gave in and yuta placed a hand on your back to lead the way.

"These are my friends , haechan, johnny, jaehyun, doyoung, taeil, jeno, Lucas, jaemin and mark"yuta smiles as he introduces you and your friends to his own.

--------

You got home late that night and your boyfriend was not happy one bit but you'd just told him you were with your friends , it wasn't a lie but it wasn't the truth either.

The next time you saw yuta you were at work and you shook your head as he walked up to you.

"You're definitely stalking me now" you commented and he chuckles.

"Could you blame me, I may have grown quite fond of you" he said and you raised your eyebrows, you kinda figured that much.

"I have a boyfriend"you reminded him for the millionth time it felt like and he was rather blunt with his response.

"I don't really care"he admitted and you looked down.

"Can I get you something from our menu? I can't have you holding up my line"you asked him and he chuckles at your attempt to get him to leave.

"When do you get off work?"he asked instead and you sighed.

"Why? Don't you have anything better to do than chase after a taken woman?" You asked and he raised his eyebrows again.

"Better to be chased than taken for granted , don't you think?"he quipped and your jaw dropped before you closed it.

"I'm not..."you shake your head and reminded him of the obvious.

"You're holding up my line"he turns his head to see a group of people behind him , he flashed them a smile and the girls all melted right on the spot.

"I'll leave , when you tell me what time you get off"he insisted and you stomp your feet like a little toddler before giving in.

"8pm tonight, now please" he smiled at your frustrated state.

"I'll be here at 7:30 to pick you up"he said and looked at him with wide eyes for what felt like the millionth time.

"Wait - what?"

---------

"I'm just going to say it"he immediately jumps up after the last customer leaves and you raised your eyebrows at him.

"Okay...."you're not used to seeing him so....nervous? He's always been chill and laid back, very sure of himself and his abilities.

"I want to take care of you..... financially, I want you to quit that useless place you call a job and yes I know you have a boyfriend"he tells you before you could even say it and you bite your bottom lip, as long as he knew.

"I don't really care honestly , if I have to watch you walk home one more time and in the cold for Christ sake I'm literally going to buy this shit joint"damn was it ever really that serious? You chuckle at your own inner commentary.

"You want to be my sugar daddy?"you asked and his face twisted into one of disgust.

"God , don't say it like that. I'm not old and I'm not asking for anything in return , just let me take care of you and if you decide to ditch that pathetic excuse of boyfriend later down the line then I wanna be the one to help you celebrate"damn , he really doesn't like your boyfriend huh?

"I don't know, I mean that's not fair to him"you tell him and he rolls his eyes, licking his lips.

"When has he ever been fair to you? He's not even here to pick you up from work and you have to catch a bus and walk 20 minutes to get home, god knows what could've happened had I not been here."now how in the hell?

"How do you know-"he cuts off your incoming question.

"I have my ways....just let me drop you off and think about what I'm offering"he said and you sigh, a ride home did sound nice.

"Okay....just a ride home"you agreed, following him to his car in the parking lot and you gaped at the red ferrari.

"Have you eaten?"his voice brings you from your trance as he unlocks the car and opens your door for you, your stomach growling answered his question and you get in the car.

"What do you wanna eat?"he asked and you looked over at him as he gets in the car, doors locked and you just noticed how good he smells up close.

"You said a ride home"you tell him and he rolls his eyes, it wasn't a big deal for him but it was for you.

"Now its just a pit stop to grab something to eat, you've got to take better care of yourself"he slightly scolds you and you scoff, folding your arms.

"I take care of myself fine"you look out of the window and its his time to scoff now.

"Really? Because every time we meet you hadn't eaten in hours."he said and you looked at him, you hadn't even met that much.

"Maybe I wasn't hungry"you counter and he chuckles, pulling out of the parking lot.

"Yeah because you devoured the food i bought you at the restaurant within minutes because you weren't hungry"you noticed he matched your energy well, talking to him was easy and he seemed to love to tease you as well.

"You watched me"you gasped and hit his arm before you realized what you had done , you went to apologize but his next comment sent a chill up your spine.

"I'm always watching you"he said and you focus on the road ahead of you.

"Why me? You could have any girl in the world and you chose me, even Jennie wants you and she's my friend"you tell him and he snorts, glancing over at you.

"You need a better friend"he said and you shake your head , Jennie was a good friend for the most part but she was hyper sexual and she wasn't ashamed of her sexuality.

"We're not together , she doesn't owe me anything"you wave off his comment.

"I have plenty of other friends she's welcome to shoot her shot at but its not gonna happen with me"damn he was dead set on you.

"You didn't answer my question, why me?"you asked again, turning your body to face him and he keeps a hand on the wheel as he let's your seat back for you to get more comfortable.

"I don't know, I just got this feeling the first time we met and I just knew I had to have you"he wasn't afraid to be honest with you and why would someone of his status be anything but honest with you.

"You can't have me, you know that right"you tell him and he hums.

"Yet"is all he says and you're taken back by his answer.

"You really are crazy"you laugh and look out the window , he chuckles.

"The best ones are"

--------

Your boyfriend wasn't happy and you sympathized with that part, you'd been doing a lot of things you normally wouldn't do and now they were catching up to you.

You woke up one morning and your face was all over the news, pictures of you with yuta at all of the places you'd run into each other together and your boyfriend was seeing this for the first time.

"You lied to me! You said you were with your girls"you remembered yuta whispering into your ear that night about how unfortunate it was that you were taken and how his arm was draped over the back of the couch behind you.

"It wasn't a lie but it wasn't the whole truth either" you winced and he paced across the floor.

"Are you sleeping with him?"he asked and you scoffed.

"I'm not you, I don't sleep with people I barely know"irritated that he would even considered that as an option.

"So what are you?"he asked and you rolled your eyes.

"He wants to take care of me...financially"you told him and he scoffed.

"What did you tell him?"he asked and you looked down at your fingers.

"I'd think about it"you said and he laughed bitterly.

"Oh for the love of god, you practically agreed"he accused you and your anger flared up.

"I didn't agree for you! because its not fair for you!"you yelled at him, pretty sure you'd get a noise complaint filed.

"You don't care about me"he shakes his head and that angered you even more.

"Really? Did you not forget why we're in this mess to begin with? You were 3 hours late to your own anniversary dinner"you rightfully reminded him why this stranger had taken interest in you.

"I'm still with you because I care , I haven't agreed because I care and I feel terrible because I care"you continued to go off , not once had you when remotely entertained this mans advances. 

"Its not my fault you gave him an opening and now he won't back off and he's aware I have you but he's never crossed the line"you told him and it was true although yuta wanted you he'd never touched you or made you feel like you couldn't make your own decisions.

"I can't do this, you wanna whore yourself out to some rich guy then be my guest and I won't stand in your way"now you were livid.

"If you wanna go so bad.... I'll help you"you announced and got off the couch, going to your bedroom to help him pack.

"Y/n , don't you touch my stuff-" he's cut off by a shoe barely missing his face and its followed by various clothes and shoes.

"Get out!"you yelled at him and threw the suitcase as well , him barely dodging it.

"I'm the one that should be angry!"he yelled but packed his things anyway.

"I get it , you feel threatened and I'm not gonna hold your hand anymore. Especially when I've been loyal despite him continuously making advances on me"you help him pack and you even zipped up the suitcase.

"Whore myself out....if anyone is a whore its you and you can go to hell with your insecurities because you didn't start acting like a man until he came along"you continued to go off in his shit but you still handed him his coat and opened the door for him, slamming it shut in his face.

--------

You found yourself in a bind and since you were single now, your boyfriend got kicked out and rent was due soon, you had no choice but to accept yutas offer.

"I'm sorry that happened"he frowned sympathetically but you both knew he was happy as hell that you got dumped.

"You're so happy , you can't even hide it"you scoff and he chuckles, shrugging his shoulders.

"You don't need him"he said and you sigh, resting your chin on your hand.

"I don't wanna need you either"you pout and he mimics your posture, including the pout.

"You don't , just think of this as payback for turning your world upside down in the best way possible."he grinned and you rolled your eyes , sharing your head.

"You're a mess"you tell him and he bites his bottom lip, sliding forward more.

"I can make you a mess"you jump back and blush as he laughs at your flustered state.

"Yuta"you cover your face and he shrugs, sitting back in his chair.

"Your fault not mine"

"So how does 250k every 2 weeks sound?"he changes the subject , taking you by surprise again.

"What? Yuta-"he cuts you off.

"Rule number one, take what I give you and I mean....everything"he's serious and demanding for the first time , you're not surprised when you feel a tingle in your uh....lower region.

"What am I supposed to do with 250k?"you asked him, jaw still on the floor and he hums as he takes a finger to press against your chin.

"Move out of that wretched apartment for starters"you frown, that was your first apartment.

"I'm taking care of you now and my love, you deserve the best of what life has to offer and you'll also need a new wardrobe."he said and looks out of the window but when he looks back, you're still frowning.

You found nothing wrong with your wardrobe but even Jennie has called you out for your lack of fashion sense many times before.

"You're cute but johnny would kill me if he saw you rocking what could be mistaken as baby phat"your jaw dropped again and he chuckles.

"He and his partner mingi can help you with that, they love fashion like that"you huff and fold your arms over your chest.

"Keep doing that and I'll give you a reason to huff" you dropped your arms instantly and looked out if the window, only hearing his laughter ring in your ears.

--------

You sat on the stool at your new apartment and yuta walked around very pleased with what he saw, his friend doyoung helped you decorate and he definitely had an eye for interior design.

"How do you feel?"he asked as he followed you out onto the balcony, it was a nice set up and the fairy lights only made it better.

"Weird , its gonna take some getting used to"you say after a moment and he nodded, understanding that.

"Your personal driver will take you anywhere you wanna go , until you get your drivers license" he must've noticed the confusion on your face when you saw two cars in the driveway.

"I don't know what to say"you said, in just a few months your life had changed completely and you were still trying to grasp that this was reality.

"Thank you?"he chuckles and you shake your head at him.

"I feel like I should do more than that"you tell him and he shakes his head.

"You don't have to, I just wanna take care of you"he reminds you, he's always kept his promise of wanting nothing in return.

"Who's gonna take care of you?"you asked and he turned to you.

"What do you mean?"he asked, blatantly confused but he gets the hint as you pull him closer by his belt and start to unbuckle it and his jeans.

"I wanna take care of you"you whispered and he grabs your hands with a groan.

"Y/n , look at me"he demands and you look up at him with your bottom lip trapped between your teeth.

"I want you....god knows i do but not like this, I don't want you to do this because you feel like you owe me"he explained and you furrowed your eyebrows, confused.

"Why?"you asked, you never thought you'd see a man turn down a blowjob.

"I want you on your knees because you want me and there's nothing that could quetch your thirst except for my cock"his forehead meets yours and you whimper, his grip on your wrists tighten at the sound and he wanted nothing more than to bend you over the railing and mark his claim on your body and soul.

"Don't say things like that and push me away"you voice brought him back to reality.

"Another time, yeah?"he asked as the door to your apartment opened and you nodded.

"Yeah"you almost forgot about the house warming party.

"Don't ask"he said , turning his attention to haechan and the rest of his and your friends as he fixed his pants.

"Wasn't going to"haechan held up his hands in surrender.

The next time you're alone with yuta was at his vacation home in Italy, you were relaxing in a jacuzzi and yuta watched you from the back door. The way your chest rose with every breath you took and he's snapped out of his trance once he hears a bunch of commotion.

Both of your friend groups seemed to have combined because now whenever you'd go on a trip they weren't far behind.

"Mind if I join you?" Yuta asked as he approached your figure and you smiled, nodding your head and he places your legs on top of his lap as your friends join you.

"This is great" Jennie smiles but you're too preoccupied with trying to keep a straight face as yuta rubs your thighs innocently, your mind however was absolute filth.

"I'm going to get a drink" you stand up and move to get out of the jacuzzi , wrapping a towel around yourself and yuta joins you.

You both go into the house after drying your feet and hair off with another towel , what do you want?"he asked as he opened the fridge and you hugged him from behind.

"I want you"you kissed his bare shoulder and he turns around, sitting his beer on the counter.

"Y/n"he goes to grab your hands but you smack his away, him raising an eyebrow at you.

"I want you now, yuta"you're not backing down this time, you want him.

No, you need him.

"Damn , are you sure?"he asked as he grabs your waist and you step closer, nodding and hiding your face in his neck.

"Yes, please" you lift your head and stand on your tiptoes to kiss his lips, he's taken aback by your boldness but kisses you back nonetheless.

"Jump" he breathes against your lips and you jump, wrapping your legs around his waist and kissing his lips more before your lips trail down to his neck.

"Fuck-" he turns and makes the walk to your room , the both of you having two separate rooms not far from each other .

You bite down on his neck after he closes the door with his foot and he walks to the bathroom with you, you realized he was heading towards the shower.

"Let me help you wash the chlorine off first, then I'm all yours" he promises and you nod, letting him carry you in the shower and turn on the water before putting you down.

He turns you around and presses you up against his chest, your bikini top comes off first and your bottoms follow the same fate.

His lips are on your neck and you whimper as you push your ass up against his front, he moves and trails kisses down your body.

His tongue touches every piece of skin on your body and you can't help but get even more turned on by that , the water turning off brings you back and yuta leads you out.

He doesn't care about the water and tosses your still wet frame on the bed, you gasp and he's quick to hover over you as his lips return to your own.

His tongue pushes into your mouth uninvited and you count help but moan, wrapping your legs around him and your fingers run through his dripping hair.

"Yuta" you whine as he pulls back and kisses his way from your jawline to your lower belly, not forgetting to give some love to your nipples using his tongue and mouth.

"Inside" you whimper and he tsks , shaking his head and continuing to move at his own pace which you huff at but that only earns you a slap to your pussy.

"Yuta!" You squeak and cover yourself from getting slapped again.

"What did I say about that huffing?" He asked and you bit your bottom lip.

"I'm sorry" you apologize and he coos , pushing your hands out of the way and continuing to kiss further down.

He stops at your inner thighs and sucks the skin into his mouth , so close to where you want him and he could care less about your needy little pussy craving for his attention.

Was he punishing you?

That thought was wiped from your train of thought as soon as his lips closed around your clit and a moan rips the the depths of your gut, right were you wanted his dick to be by now.

"You're so wet baby"hands throwing your legs over his shoulder and he digs in, not holding back and placing a hand on your lower abdomen to hold you in place as he attacks your leaking pussy with his tongue.

"Needy baby- how good am I doing?" He asked and continued to lick you feverishly , his tongue adding just the right amount of pressure that has you cumming undone just how he likes.

"Fuck" he can't help but chuckle as he watches you come back down to earth, he's now at your side and rubbing slow circles on your clit.

"Too much" you push his hand away and he kisses your cheek.

"You did so good" he praises you and you smile lazily at him, your hand trailing down and grabbing his bare cock which was fully hard.

"Fuck me, please mr nakamoto" you whine and squeeze the base as you lazily stroke his cock, he smacks your hand away and gets up.

He grabs your waist and manhandles you into the position he wants, ass up and face down.

You're angled towards the mirror he had set up in your room and now you know why he had it a specific way, you cry out his name as he smacked your ass harshly and he grinned that evil smile he had.

Slap after slap he landed them all on both of your ass cheeks and you closed your eyes, a tear falling down your face and you jerk away from him once his tongue makes contact with your stinging skin.

"Y-yuta"you whimper.

"I've waited to have you for months , I guarantee you're not leaving this room for a few hours"was that supposed to be a threat? Your body was tingling with anticipation.

"Do your worst"you challenged him and he thrusted his cock into you , his hand pushing your face in the pillow to muffle your scream and he's pulling your hair back soon after. 

"Ag- fuck"you cry out as he pounds his cock into you roughly and your eyes roll to the back of your head, his hands moving to grip your hips to guide your movements and set a faster rhythm.

"You're just all bark aren't you? Just a whiny brat that acts up when she's not stuffed full of cum"you clench down on his cock and he chuckles, grabbing your neck and pulling you up against his chest.

"Is that what you want pretty? Want Mr nakamotos cum in your pathetic cunt?" You whimper and he thrusts his hips faster, a hand dropping down to rub your clit and you cry out again.

"Fuck! You're gonna make me cum" he pulls out immediately and moves away, laying down on the bed and resting his arms behind his head.

"W-why'd you stop?" You whine and pout, he chuckles and beckons you to come closer.

"You're gonna have to work for it. come on, love and ride my cock"you nod and straddle his lap, lining his tip up with your entrance and you whimper as you slide down.

"Move" he demands and you nod, rocking your hips back and forth as he watches you. You couldn't lie , he looked sexy like that.

"Come on, bounce your ass on my cock" you bite your bottom lip and start to bounce on his cock, moans leave your lips and you feel your climax getting closer again.

"I feel-"you're cut off by a slap to the ass.

"Faster, fuck my cock like the horny slut you are"you obey him immediately and the only thing on your mind was his cock.

"You're so-" you're cut off again.

"Attractive? I'm aware, I'm also aware that my baby isn't fucking me hard enough and therefore she must not want to cum"he goes to pull you off his cock but you slap his hands away.

"I can do it" you promised and lean forward, arms caging him in and your ass bouncing faster and harder.

"Fuck- that's a good fucking girl" he spreads your ass cheeks and plants his heels in the bed, thrusting his cock up into you and you cry out once again.

"I'm cumming!" You warned him and pulls you down for a kiss, tongues colliding messily as you both chase that euphoric feeling of ecstacy.

"Cum with me"you hide your face in his neck as you clamp down on his dick and he groans deeply, your body trembling on top of him as your orgasm ran through you and he cums deep into your heat.

"Fuck" he runs a soothing hand down your back , kissing your forehead before carefully rolling you onto the bed beside him.

"I'll go get you some water, we're starting again in 5 minutes" and with that he left the room.

[imagines--galore]

||Light 'em Up|| Prologue

Summary: She saved Hiro from bullies and then punched Tadashi when she thought he was one too. She calls herself Hiro's caretaker, and became Tadashi's best friend. Now she attends the same Institute as Tadashi as a robotics student. She's Sakura dubbed Cherry Blossom by Fred. She's Hiro's partner in crime, when it comes to annoying his brother and Tadashi's best friend. Pairing: Tadashi Hamada x Sakura Kamiya(OC) Rating || Genres || Warnings: T. Romance. Angst. Hurt/Comfort. Adventure A/N: I've written this for the longest time and figured it was time to start uploading this here! So enjoy!

"So was that everyone on your little Nerd Team?"

Hiro asked cheekily as he stood beside his brother, helmet in hand. They had just stepped out of the Institute, after meeting everyone, and were about to head home. His older brother grinned and nodded, putting his own helmet on.

"Yup!" He started the Moped as he counted his friends on his fingers one by one.

"Gogo. Fred. Honey. Wasabi. And..." His eyes widened with disbelief with a hint of fear, as he paled and breathed out.

"Oh crap!"

Hiro's smile widened all the more when his brother was almost immediately cut off by a loud shout from the top of the stairs.

"Tadashi Hamada!"

Both brothers turned to look at the stairs where a figure was walking towards them, their steps quick and determined. Tadashi seemed to shrink where he sat on his mopped, while his younger brother, with his helmet still on, waved excitedly.

"Hiya Sakura!"

Immediately a bright smile was directed towards him.

"Hello Hiro!"

The younger boy was then swept into a giant bear hug by the girl. She lifted him off his feet, the both of them laughing before she deposited him back on the ground looking at him, her eyes shining.

"Oh its so good to see you! Its been almost three days since I last saw you. I was worried when I got Tadashi's text about the Bot Fight. Why did you even go there anyway? No wait! What were you thinking?! For being a smart kid that was pretty dangerous and stupid Hiro."

As she spoke she started to turn his head around, eyeing him from head to toe.

"You're not hurt are you? If it were up to me I would glue that helmet to your head."

She laughed rapping her knuckles smartly against the object. Worry and concern was written all over the older girl's face as she inspected him for any kind of bruises or even a scratch.

"Seriously are you okay though?"

Her voice was soft, violet eyes laced with concern as she looked at Hiro in the eye.

"I'm okay, Sakura!"

Hiro said pushing her hands away gently, with a grin. He knew how the older girl could get with him. She was always checking up on him and making sure he was eating properly and sleeping well. Whenever he was about to try out one of his new inventions she would make sure to be just around the table, that was put up to protect them if need be, with a first aid kit and a fire extinguisher. He didn't mind though. He loved the attention and Sakura loved to take care of him. Smiling lightly Sakura stood up straight, ruffling his hair, making it messier than ever.

"I know you're okay, Squirt!"

Hiro protested laughingly batting away her hands.

"H-hey Sa-kura."

A small voice called out. The girl turned, her long pony tail swishing around her head with the movement, to look at the older Hamada brother, her face completely devoid of any emotion. Beside her the younger Hamada brother grinned slyly as he stood behind the black haired girl, partly hidden. His eyes relayed a single message to the victim.

"You are so dead, bro!"

[zhng96]

sunny days — k. gyuvin

↳ how can one make it up to someone who spends their days helping people- and how come you’ve found yourself faced with flustering feelings for said boy so suddenly?

↳ pairing: kim gyuvin x gn!reader (3.1k words OH MY GAWD)

↳ warnings: nothing honestly

↳ note: THIS IS SO LONG HELP,,, the longest fic i’ve written yet AND I LOVED EVERY BUT OF IT!!! HAPOY BDAY GYUVIN YOU DESERVE EVERY OUNCE OF LOVE EVER.

perm taglist: @tzuberry @hrtattcker @yueriots @neohyxn @avocarua @dwcljh @uyujns @knrejj

o. the meaning of loving.

kim gyuvin was the epitome of someone who loved loving. he helped where he could, was doting to his friends- even in a teasing way- but everyone and their mothers knew he meant every candied word he sent towards them, he was a social butterfly, and he made sure everyone was comfortable around him.

it was in his nature, you suppose, to help you despite not knowing you very well. being the class president and all, you assumed that he was just helping take a burden off of your shoulders even if it was a measly stack of papers waiting to be dropped by the office- not to mention his altruistic nature.

little did you know that there was a hint of devotion behind it. gyuvin knew he helped around a lot- but with you, he helped extra. any time he found you taking on a task by yourself- no matter the difficulty, he'd offer a hand. he just wished you’d notice how he set his attention on you just a little bit more than he set his attention on others.

(more under the cut !)

albeit the wave of fluttering feelings that burst throughout his chest when he hears the grateful thank you with a soul-crushingly sincere smile; he knows that when he has you for himself, he'll feel the same, just ten times over.

that's one of the reasons gyuvin has yet to give up over his attempts of showcasing his affections for you- but also because he just likes doing it. he revels in the way the sun hits your skin when the two of you are working during lunch, he loves when you accidentally make eye contact with him and find yourself looking away just as fast.

he lives and breathes you- he only hopes you do the same.

i. a paper stack as tall as jack's beanstalk.

midday was always the slowest time during school days. classes went by increasingly slower as the clock approached closer to the hour to which the lunch period began.

your stomach grumbled in anticipation for the assortment of cafeteria foods that awaited for you as soon as the bell rung. you were practically jumping in you seat peevishly- unable to distract your mind from imagining what was on the menu today.

finally, the bell rung. the teacher nods in dismissal and every student bursts from their seats.

you quickly grab your bag resting against the desk leg and shove your belongings into its pouch before turning towards the exit.

that's when the teacher called your name.

"yn, could you come here for a moment?" they ask, waving a hand towards them. you have no option but to oblige.

suddenly, 2 tall stacks of printer paper etched with various texts slam onto the teacher's desk, and your mouth is left agape, already preparing for what they will ask of you.

"i need you to bring these to the office for me", they state, sheepishly rubbing their neck, "i've got to pick up my daughter for an appointment, i'm sorry..."

breaking away from your stupor, you shake your head violently, "i-it's no worries! i'll get it there right away!"

the teacher send you a grateful nod before gathering their stuff in a hurry and their footsteps descend down the hallway- a quick and irritating clacking sound ringing throughout the 3rd floor of the building. you pay no mind, only staring at the two large stacks before you- worries about your ability to eat your long awaited lunch bouncing throughout your head.

unbeknownst to you, gyuvin stood at the door, watching the whole affair transpire. he noticed your antsy demeanor during class, having sat behind you- watching you slightly bounce like a maniac and look back at the clock every few minutes. when he heard the teacher call your name just as you were about to rush out towards the cafeteria- he knew he had to prepare for the worst.

watching your face drop had only motivated him to help you more- but when he saw the two fat stacks of paper forced before you, he wasn't so sure that even his efforts could manage to get you to eat the lunch that you were willing to risk it all for.

you frown, the office building was on the first floor and currently, you were on the third. with no elevator, the school solely relied on stairs- and with the sight of the two tall stacks of paper, there was no way you were getting both of them down in one trip- you'd most likely have to make four.

groaning, you finally oblige to the task at hand and reach for the first quarter of papers you would bring down, using your tippy toes as a support. someone is quick to help though. a tall, lanky boy reaches out to steady the trembling stack, letting you grab half of the stack with ease.

without seeing his face, you already recognized who it was. not only were his huge hands a giveaway, also the height- and most of all, the fact that he's even here right now rather than getting lunch.

you rest the stack on your biceps and tuck it to your chest. now comfortable, you turn towards him.

"you should be eating lunch", you quirk your brow, gazing at him with sincere concern- he only feels his heartbeat pick up.

"so should you", he replies coolly, shrugging his shoulders and taking a whole stack of papers as if it weighed nothing.

you yelp, "i can handle it myself! you need to eat!"

he chuckles, shaking his head before nodding it towards the door, "well, if we get a move-on we'll both be able to eat lunch. how's that sound?"

you find yourself perking up at the mention of being able to enjoy your long awaited food and nod helplessly. he nods his head again, suggesting you start walking ahead of him and you comply, being the first to walk out the door and gyuvin following close behind.

gyuvin wasn't going to lie, the stack was heavy. but thankfully, with his height, the tall stack of papers did nothing to restrict his movement, his head still fully over the top of the stack.

the two of you stop in front of the stairs and you give him a weary look, "you sure you can make it down those without falling? we can always come back up again, there's still half a stack in the classroom..."

gyuvin smiles, nodding confidently, "we'll be okay! c'mon, the faster we get this done, the quicker we can eat lunch!"

you can't help but take note on how, despite asking a question directed to him, he still manages to include you in the answer. having first-handedly witnessed the natural way he still manages to think of others in the littlest of things evokes an unrecognizable emotion inside of you. suddenly, the sight of him makes you want to break out into a grin.

quickly, gyuvin turns back towards the stairs and steps down with a fastened pace- somehow, none of the papers that lay at the top of the stack fly in the opposite direction.

you giggle to yourself before jogging down the steps as well, trying your best to catch up to gyuvin while also maintaining the balance of the stack in your arms.

ii. he said, she said.

after taking a second trip up and down the three flights of stairs to hand over the other half of the stack you left behind, the two of your were satisfied with your work. the second trip around, the two of you were so caught up in conversation that the intention to rush was long forgotten.

as the two of you slowly walked towards the cafeteria, now discussing some silly shenanigans gyuvin and his friends had done during one of last year’s breaks, the bell rung once again, and the students flood the hallways the pair were striding down.

the two of you freeze in place, watching as the students head back towards their lockers to grab their belongings for the upcoming class.

you glance of gyuvin, frowing at the sight of his downcast expression- he had missed lunch just to help you sort out your paper stack predicament.

little do you know, gyuvin is feeling just the same- he helped you just so you could be able to eat lunch and there he was, selfishly talking to you, only to lead you to missing lunch completely. his plan was perfect, it was just that his execution turned out to be counterproductive.

"i am so sorry gyuvin... i really should've just done it myself", you ramble, clenching your fists in embarrassment. you fail to notice how he looks at you with concern.

taking his silence as an apology unaccepted, you cringe, "i'll find a way to make it up to you-"

"yn!" one of your friends call from a few feet away with great urgency, causing you to trail off on your sentence.

you look at him once more, painful apology painted across your face, before jogging along to see what your friend had urgently called you for.

the rest of the day was spent racking your brain for ways to make it up to gyuvin.

you could buy him a lunch, you pondered- but you decided he was worth more.

how about a giftcard somewhere?- well, you weren't 30... it seemed like an old gift.

everything you thought, it always seemed like it was never enough. gyuvin deserved way more than just a free lunch, or giftcard, or an apology. he was gyuvin for godsakes, he helped you and everyone he could, no questions asked, he's kind, and for some reason- the mere shadow of his presences sends your stomach fluttering.

with guilt bubbling in your stomach since lunch, you've finally reached the end of the day. putting away the textbooks that weighed your backpack down onto the metal shelf of your locker- a certain name uttered by a group of friends behind you perks your ears.

"what did you guys get for gyuvin's birthday tomorrow?" and suddenly an idea hits you like a truck.

you found the perfect way to make it up to him. gyuvin loved people- what if you held him a little surprise party first thing tomorrow?

you twist around and but into their conversation- an obnoxious gesture, but with your mind racing miles a minute, that was the least of your worries.

"is it really gyuvin's birthday tomorrow?" you ask, looking around to meet the faces of his close friends- the eight of them stand there a little taken aback before they collect themselves.

"yeah!" matthew, if you remember correctly, confirms happily, sending you a warm smile.

"what if we held him a surprise party?" you suggest, surveying each of their faces to take in their reactions.

each of them light up, "where are we gonna get everything?"

"don't worry, i'll take care of everything... just meet me at the school about an hour to half-an-hour early!"

iii. a lunchbox cake.

it didn't take long for the rest of your class to absorb the (not-so-secret) surprise party plan for their beloved classmate, but you never minded- afterall, gyuvin deserved only the best and that showed through the devotion of the many people he's helped giving a hand to create a great celebration. the rest of the day was spent running errands for the last minute plans.

holding two bags full of decorations which ranged from balloons to silly little party hats you bought for the laughs, you head over to your favourite bakery- they had recently started advertising lunchbox cakes.

you requested two of these cakes- hoping it will be enough to feed everyone to satisfaction, but not enough to create a herd of hyper teenagers. one cake was to be a simple white- a cursive birthday message in black buttercream decorating the top and sprinkles made through piping icing directly onto the cake taking up awkward gaps where something felt missing.

the second cake was to have a teal background and a puppy wearing a pink birthday hat in the middle- all made of icing.

despite feeling bad about the amount of work they had to put in in such a short amount of time, they assured you that you are a beloved customer and they appreciate you always coming to support them- they accepted the order with no hesitation. you explained your deadline, saying you'll be there to pick it up an hour before your classes start and you watch as they immediately start on the batter. on your way out, you thank them profusely

all that was left was setting it up and presenting it to the birthday boy.

iv. surprise?

the clicking of your loafers against the cement along with the wind rapidly dancing past you rings your ears- the sound of the early morning traffic is easily muffled.

you run frantically towards the bakery- you had gotten a text from hanbin that they were at the school ready to set up, and feeling bad that they would have to wait- you decide to drop off the decorations and then head back to pick up the cake (bad decision). you were now frantically running- only having 25 minutes to get back to the school, cakes fully intact and looking presentable. 25 minutes and then classes would start- 25 minutes and you'll see gyuvin walk in and-

turning the corner expecting to see the entrance of the bakery in view, instead you are met with a lanky figure in a very familiar school uniform.

"oh!" the boy yelps, grabbing onto your arm to save you from a painful fall onto the concrete.

at the voice, you eyes widen- gyuvin was here, right now.

"ah, g-gyuvin!" you stammer, tilting your head up to greet the boy.

at the sight of your slightly messy hair, the boy giggles, causing you to quickly run your hands over your head to smooth it out.

"what are you doing here?" you laugh awkwardly, rubbing your bicep in attempt to act natural- you needed to get out of there immediately, but without being rude? that was impossible.

"oh... i thought i'd pick you up a pastry since i made you skip lunch yesterday..."

you perk up at this confession, tilting your head in consideration.

it was his birthday and he was getting something for you...

"you... didn't make me do anything gyuvin, really it's okay!" you comfort, watching as his eyes grow wide.

"why are you here?"

you didn't know how to answer that question.

"well i... um.." gyuvin patiently awaits your answer but rests a hand on your head after he senses your struggling.

"you don't need to tell me, it's alright. you wanna come inside with me so you can pick your treat?"

pursing your lips, you nod after a second and follow him inside.

"what's your favourite pastry?" he asks, surverying the dainty bakery.

"yn!" the woman behind the counter shouts, catching both you and gyuvin's attention.

"you come here a lot?" he questions, the tilt of his head makes your heart clench; you nod sheepishly before excusing yourself. while you walk away, gyuvin internally praises himself for the choice of bakery.

rushing over to the counter, you thank her gratefully and open the two boxes just an inch to inspect the cakes.

they were perfect, the cake with the dog was perfectly smooth and the icing art was admirable, the other cake was perfectly plain. simple, yet elegant.

you turn back to gyuvin, who eyes the two boxes curiously and you shrug.

"what's all that?" he nods towards the two boxes as you walk back up towards him.

"surprise", you smile, your nerves now calmed- everything was going to be fine, all you needed to do was get gyuvin to the school.

gyuvin hums, seemingly content enough with your answer. he then moves to walk up to the cashier but you grab his wrist frantically.

"there's no need, really! seeing you enjoy these cakes is enough for me!” you stumble, saying the first reasonable explanation to get back to the school right away.

it takes you a few moments to realize your mistake, but when you do, you find yourself frozen in place.

great going.

“surprise, huh?” he chuckled, staring at your appalled expression.

“well… it was supposed to be…” you mumble, shifting between your two feet awkwardly.

sensing your shame, gyuvin places a hand on your shoulder in comfort, “hey, it’s okay… i didn’t mean it that way, you’re just too cute not to tease.”

you perk up at his confession, now it was his turn to face you, appalled by his own mouth.

“that was supposed to be a secret too…” you giggle, taking his hand in attempt to calm his nerves.

“c’mon birthday boy, that’s not the only surprise”, gyuvin follows like a puppy, gripping your hand back happily once he comes back to his senses.

v. birthday wish granted.

you walk up to the classroom in anticipation, hopefully, everything was fully put up and everyone was ready to greet the boy a happy birthday.

you tried to make it known you were going down the hallway, extending your voice a few decibals higher than usual- you only hoped gyuvin didn't notice.

still holding his hand, you drag him over to the classroom. once the two of you stood in front on the room door, you looked at him with a wide grin- his eyebrows furrow and his gaze softens at the sight of your smile.

pursing your lips, you gesture for him to move in front of you- it seems like gyuvin had figured out your other surpise a while ago as he gives you a knowing look, but obliges nonetheless. before he turns to slide the door open, he gently cups your face.

the contact of his lips on your forehead feels majestic. it was delicate and meaningful- a small peck meant so much.

he then looks at you for permission, you only nod, reading his face for his next action.

he smirks before leaning down, now level with your lips.

by pure coincidence- yujin, who overheard the two in the hallway and was getting impatient- slid the door open, ready to peek out to see if you two were close by.

instead he finds you two inches apart- suddenly the two of you jump back.

theres a pregnant silence before matthew pops up from behind a desk, his eyes darting from you and the birthday boy and then at your hands. he smirks cheekily at the sight, “happy birthday gyuvin! i’d tell you to make a wish but it looks like it’s already come true.”

navi. mlist.

[americas1suiteheart]

Better Off As Lovers

Patrick Stump x Reader

This was also posted on Ao3 if you prefer that platform, this whole text is the link. :)

[Summary; You and Patrick have been friends since middle school and have been going to tours with him and the band to watch their shows. At one of the shows, Patrick decides to play one unreleased song he just so happened to write for you to confess his feelings. (I dunno this is kinda the summary but I'm also dumb as shit and can't make a correct summary).

[Notes; I felt like writing a little something for him as I've been wanting to for a while now, and here it is! And honestly, guys, if I end up wring more Patrick x Reader fics they're all most likely to be song fics or fics based off of some of the music videos, sorry but man I'm a sucker for song fics.

[Warnings; Some cursing and some bickering back and forth between Pete and Y/n over stupid stuff. Really really cheesy and unrealistic ig. Also Y/n is kind of really fucking stupid as well, but for the sake of the fic.

[Word Count: 4,068 (This is literally the longest fic I've ever written oh my gods.)

<Playing- Bang The Doldrums by Fall Out Boy>

1:32 ────ㅇ────── 3:31

God, why are these tour bus seats so uncomfortable? You'd figure that because they were meant for people to sleep in, they would be more comfortable.

You get up and stretch, heading to the cupboard where the band keeps all of the snacks to look for your hidden stash in the back.

"Where the hell are they?" You say, muttering to yourself.

You continue to scrounge through the cabinet to try and find your two twin packs of Twinkies, only to give up and walk to where the boys were hanging out.

"Hey, did any of you guys eat my Twinkies?" You call out as you walk to where you can hear the boys talking; a curtain was the only thing acting as a door for the area.

Just as you open the curtain to the "room" (aka the six loft beds that were separated by just a curtain), you see Pete and Joe munching on your beloved creme-filled cakes.

"Are you kidding me?" You say, your mouth agape and eyebrows raised.

"I told you guys so."

The two boys look at each other and then at you, a twinge of fear apparent on their faces, the creme filling on the corners of their mouths, and the wrappers thrown onto the floor.

"You two so totally owe me two boxes of Twinkies, I mean it! One box from each of you two! How did you find them?! I hid them!" You flail your arms about towards the boys, the guilt becoming more apparent on Joe's face.

Pete and Joe shuffle in their spots, licking their fingers and corners of their mouths to get the creme off from their messy way of eating.

"Honestly, you're kinda bad at hiding stuff; it wasn't that hard to find them," Pete says with a shrug.

Patrick kicks his shin from where he was sitting from across, earning a hiss of pain and a dirty look from Peter.

"I'm gonna eat all of your fucking Blow-Pops." You say, leaving the sleeping area and heading back to the snack cupboard. You can hear Pete's shouts, telling you not to touch them.

Opening the cupboard, you immediately spot a party-size pack of Blow-Pops with a large piece of duct tape stuck on to the bag, big bold letters drawn with a black Sharpie reading 'PETE'S LOLLIPOPS!!! DON'T TOUCH!!!'

Pete really liked those things, and he would individually count them to keep track of how many he had, so that way, if someone decided to take one or two of them, he would know. Which is kind of insane of him now that you think about it. Actually, scratch that, Pete was insane—PERIOD!

You grab the bag and grab three handfuls of lollipops, shoving them into your hoodie pockets and putting the bag back into the cupboard.

"Give them back, Y/n!" Pete says, grabbing your shoulders just enough to keep you from moving.

"Hell no! Buy me back my Twinkies and then I might just give you all of them back." You say putting one hand into your pocket to take out a Blow-Pop.

"Those Twinkies were practically begging to be eaten by someone, man; come on, those were in there for days without being touched."

You unwrap the lollipop, pulling your hand up to pop it into your mouth, Pete's mouth falling agape as you do so.

"Was that one of the apple ones..."

You nod your head, taking it out of your mouth. "And I've still got more. And as I said, I'm not giving them back until you buy me back, my Twinkies,"

"God, fine! But promise not to eat anymore until we get to a gas station! Especially not the Apple ones!"

"Will do," You pop the Blow-Pop back into your mouth as he lets go of your shoulders, looking defeated as he walks back to the room all of the others were still in.

You smile to yourself, sitting back into the seat you were originally in.

------------------------------

You and the boys get out of the bus, heading into the gas station as the drivers fuel up. You immediately head for the drink section, looking for a can of Arizona tea.

What the hell man, where are they?

You continue to look for another minute or so until you finally give up, heading to the soda section where Patrick was.

You had somewhat of a crush on Patrick. You always have to be honest.

You went to high school with Patrick, so you've known him since sophomore year. You had a lot of classes with him too and often hung out with each other both inside and outside of school, making you closer to Patrick than you were to any of the other kids and considering him your best friend.

When he first started playing with Joe and Pete and officially being in a band with them, you started going over to practices with him, getting to know the two better, and when Andy joined the band, it was the same with him.

Now that you think about it, you have no clue how liking him could have been avoided. He's sweet and smart—a little awkward at times too, but nonetheless an incredible guy.

I mean, the whole reason why you started looking into learning some music technology was so that you could be with him more often. A lot of what you started doing was to get to hang out with him more often.

"Boo!" You say, grabbing Patrick's arm gently.

"N/n, there you are," Patrick says, turning around to look at you, holding out two cans of Arizona tea to you.

"What the hell, I just spent like, two minutes looking for these; where the heck did you find them?" You chuckle, taking one of the cans.

"I'll never tell.." Patrick chuckles, a cheeky grin on his face.

"Well, thank you Patrick. I appreciate your kind gesture very much."

Andy and Joe run by you and Patrick, with Pete doing the same shortly afterwards. Some screams and laughs came with that as well. You could see the cashier trying their best to make it through all the noise, with a look on their face that could only be explained as exhaustion and frustration, clearly not wanting to be at work.

You look at Patrick and sigh, knowing that you'll have to yell at the three once again as if they were children, regardless of the fact they were all older than you and Patrick.

You walk to the snack aisle, where you can see Joe and Andy crouching down, assumingly hiding from Pete for whatever reason, and walk up behind them. Andy had a bag of skittles in his hand and a sprite in the other, while Joe carried a twin pack of Twinkies—just as you asked him for—and a bag of chips and diet coke in his arms.

"What are we hiding from?" You whisper to the two, who jump slightly and look back in response.

"Pete," Andy replies quietly.

"Well, we've gotta go; you guys will have to finish this up some other time, preferably when we aren't in a public place."

You hear footsteps from behind and stand up, turning around to see Pete walking slowly, putting a finger up to his lips as to say "don't say anything," and you shake your head and mouth, "No."

"Come on guys, go check out we need to get back on the road," you say, turning back to Andy and Joe.

Pete groans and fully stands up, Andy and Joe doing the same.

"God, you're such a grump all the time, no fun," Pete says, walking up to the cashier.

Patrick comes up from behind you, putting his hand on your back. "Is everyone ready to go?"

You blush from the contact, nodding your head in response, and walk to the register where the boys were checking out.

"No, I paid the last time. It's Andy's turn to pay now, remember?" Pete argues. The cashier looked like he was about to snap; if it was a cartoon, steam would probably be coming out of his ears right now.

"I'll pay, fine dude, just chill out," Andy says, pulling out his wallet and handing the cashier his credit card.

The cashier puts their items into a plastic bag, and Andy grabs it and leaves with the other two.

You and Patrick walk to the register, putting your items down on the counter.

"Sorry about them by the way, they get rowdy sometimes," Patrick says, attempting to break the awkwardness by making small talk, leading it to get worse.

"Your total is $9.34," the cashier says with a deadpan look on his face.

The two of you pull out your cards and look at each other. "Let me pay for it, please; you had paid the last time, and it was almost 20 dollars," Patrick says with puppy eyes.

God, this guy always knows how to get his way with that look.

"Alright then, Pat. Thank you," You thank him, putting your card away.

Patrick pays and the cashier puts our stuff into a plastic bag, handing it to him, with him thanking the guy and telling him to have a good day.

You two walk back into the bus, and Patrick places the bag on the couch in the lounge.

"Do you want both of these in the mini fridge?" Patrick asks, taking one of the tea cans out of the bag.

"I'll have one now and save the other for later, if you can put one in though, that'd be awesome."

Patrick nods and puts one can and one of his sodas in the mini fridge plugged in next to the counter where the broken toaster sat. Now that you think about it, how long has that thing been broken? Why haven't any of us bothered to replace it?

You open one of the cans, walking into the bunk area, and sit on your bunk at the top, letting your feet dangle above the middle bunk.

"Y/n, here you go," Joe says, handing me two twin packs of Twinkies.

"Thanks, Joe. Here are your Blow-Pops back dickhead," you say, taking the wrapped cakes and taking all of the blow pops out of your pocket, handing them to Pete, who was sitting next to Joe.

"Jesus, dude, how many of my fucking Blow-Pops did you take?" Pete exclaims.

"A couple handfuls, I think," you reply, taking a drink of your tea.

-----------------------------

"Alright guys, we've got a couple more songs to play; are you ready?" Pete shouts into his mic, earning cheers from throughout the crowd.

The boys continue playing a couple more songs.

The band had been playing for an hour and a half now, playing some of their newer songs from the newest album they were working on, those of which you had the pleasure of getting to listen to before they played them for others, as well as songs from Take This To Your Grave and From Under The Cork Tree. The crowd was singing the lyrics along with the band, enjoying all of it.

"This is the last song for tonight and is another one from the album that we're currently working on; this one me and Patrick worked on together is called Bang The Doldrums!" Pete says, wiping some of the sweat off of his forehead.

Patrick adjusts the strap of his guitar slightly, walking up to the mic. Him and Joe begin to play together, with the rest of the band joining in.

You listen to it for a bit, you hadn't recognised the name but you figured that they had probably changed it.

'I wrote a goodbye note in lipstick on your arm when you passed out,'

What the hell? I haven't heard this one yet.

'I couldn't bring myself to call, except to call it quits,'

This is great; why hadn't they shown me this one? They all sound amazing.

Patrick looks at me as he sings the next verse; his face tinted a slight red, maybe from how out of breath he was getting? God, he always looked so pretty like that.

'Best friends, ex-friends till the end, better off as lovers, and not the other way around,'

You listen to the lyrics; why did he look at me like that in that exact verse? Maybe I'm just going crazy.

'Racing through the city, windows down, in the back of yellow-checkered cars,'

You continued to listen, enjoying the sound of the way they were playing.

Then once again, Patrick looks at you, looking less nervous and giving a slight smile as he sings the same verse.

'Best friends, ex-friends till the end, better off as lovers, and not the other way around,'

You can feel your face rapidly becoming warm, oh?

You think for a bit, your mouth slightly agape as you stand still. You just hope what you think is happening and what he's implying is actually what it is. No, no way. You guys have just been friends since high school; there's no way.

'..in the back of yellow-checkered cars. You're wrong, are we all wrong?

'Best friends, ex-friends till the end, better off as lovers, and not the other way around, ex-friends till the end, better off as lovers!'

The song ends, and the band thanks the crowd before exiting the stage, allowing the stage technicians to begin striking and taking everything down.

You were still standing there as the crowd began to clear out. Shit, you should get to the boys. What do I do about how Patrick looked at me? What if I ask him about it and I'm totally wrong? Oh god, I'm screwed.

You begin to head to the door that lead to the backstage lounge, a security guard protecting it from letting anyone else in. The guard immediately notices you and lets you in.

You nervously walk to the same area that the boys were in, knocking on the door and hearing Joe shout, "Come in!"

You open the door and smile at the boys, who were sitting down, drinking water and using towels to dry themselves off.

Where's Pat?

"Hey guys! You sounded awesome tonight, what was with that last song though? I'd never heard it before." You greet, sitting down on one of the metal pull-out chairs across from everyone else.

"Thanks! We were going to show you Bang The Doldrums when we were first working on it, but about halfway through writing it Patrick had said something about waiting to play it at a gig instead, something about surprising you, I dunno," Pete says in response, taking a chug of his water bottle.

"Where is Patrick, by the way?" You ask, rubbing your hands on your thighs.

"I think he went to go and look for you actually; try ringing him or go and look for him; he's somewhere around here," Andy says.

"Shit really? I'll go try to find him now. Do you guys need anything that could be outside of this room?"

"Can you get us some more water? I'm still totally parched man," Pete asks, taking the towel he had on his shoulder to wipe his face off.

You nod and get up, leaving the room and closing the door to go and look for Patrick.

How on earth do you know where every place in this theater would be? This place is huge..

After searching around, you finally decide to go outside to check if he was in the tour bus by chance, only to see him sitting on a curb next to the door hidden from all of the different fans still exiting the venue.

"Pat? What're you doin' out here without a sweater on? It's freezing right now." You speak out, walking to where he was and sitting to the left of him.

"Oh, I went to look for you, and when I came out here, it was way cooler than it was in the theater, so I stayed out here to cool off a little bit," Patrick says, straightening his back and looking at you.

You nod in a way of understanding.

"How'd you like the show, though?" Patrick says, after a few seconds of silence.

"It was great! You guys never have a boring gig; everyone was loving it. What was the last song about though? I had never heard you guys play it up until just now." You say excitedly.

Patrick shifts slightly, looking away from you as his face flushes, now looking slightly embarrassed.

"I mean, it's not that it sounded bad or anything; it sounded great, but, during that chorus, you kept looking at me and, well," You say awkwardly, avoiding saying what you actually wanted to say.

It stayed silent for a couple of seconds before Patrick broke it.

"Sorry about that, I don't know if it made you weirded out or anything." Patrick says quietly.

"'Weirded out?' Pat I don't think you can really do anything to weird me out honestly. I didn't mind the contact all that much really." You lightly laugh, quietly mumbling the last part.

After saying that, you notice Patrick relax a bit, as if he were relieved and a little bit of a weight was off his shoulders.

"Y/n, can I tell you something?" Patrick says looking down at his shoes, his voice shaky.

"Yeah, of course," You reply, anxious for his words, yet somehow excited at the same time, wondering what they might be.

"This is going to sound so stupid, gosh. Um," Patrick chuckles, trying to calm his nerves as he twiddles his thumbs together, then proceeding with what he was saying. "I uh, would you hate me if I said that I really liked you, and not in a friend sort of way but um,"

You stay quiet for a few seconds, mouth slightly open and eyes wide. You're glad that it was dim in the little corner you two were sitting at so that he wouldn't see how red your face was turning.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anythi-" Patrick apologises before getting cut off by you.

"Patrick, don't be sorry," You say.

Patrick furrows his brows, creasing his forehead slightly, turning to look at you with confusion clear on his face.

"You have absolutely no idea how long I've waited for you to say something along the lines of that," You continue, grinning widely.

Patrick's face softened, a small smile appearing onto his face.

"So, does that mean that, well, you know," He says, looking at some cracks in the concrete, kicking at a pebble aside.

"Yeah, it means exactly that, Trick," You put your hand on his shoulder, trying to get his attention back.

He looks back at you, smiling, his eyes that you looked into so often seemed to shine brighter underneath the dim light that the venue had over the door in the back that barely showed any light where you two were sitting.

Patrick brings a hand to your face, caressing your cheek. You lean into his touch, doing the same as he did.

His eyes glance at your lips for a millisecond, quickly returning to your eyes.

"Can I kiss you?" Patrick asks quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nod your head and lean in as he does, fluttering your eyes closed.

Patrick closes the gap between the both of you, his breath warm. The kiss is soft and sweet, not pressed too hard against each other but still with passion. Your lips seemed to fit perfectly with his, as if they were made specifically for the both of you and just the both of you alone.

You two pull away, pressing your foreheads together, panting ever so slightly from the lack of oxygen the both of you got during the kiss.

There was a peaceful silence for a few seconds, you swear that if it weren't for the muffled music and talking of the crowd outside Patrick would've been able to hear your heart beating out of your chest.

"God, if I knew this would be the outcome I would've told you years ago," Patrick chuckles lightly.

You smile, now realizing that this wasn't a dream and that your best friend since high school really confessed what you dreamed he would for years now. That you two really kissed and it wasn't some guy that you pretended to love in hopes of letting your feelings for Patrick disappear, and you were so glad that your mind and heart didn't let that happen.

"Oh my god finally, you two are idiots," Pete says, standing on the steps that lead to the door to get backstage.

You and Patrick quickly pull away from each other, your face burning up quickly.

"What the hell do you mean 'finally'?" You say, looking at Pete in confusion.

"We've been waiting for you two idiots to finally say something to each other for years now,"

You look at Pete for a few seconds, the cogs in your head turning.

"What?"

"I mean, you two were so painfully obvious, I'm honestly surprised that you two didn't figure it out way earlier man. Oh! Wait, wait, who confessed first? Was it you Y/n?"

Joe and Andy walk out and stand next to Pete.

"Did it finally happen? Who said it first, do you know?" Joe asks.

You and Patrick stare at each other, completely baffled.

"Was it Patrick?" Andy asks.

You flush even more, looking back at the three, then quickly looking away.

"It was totally Patrick, I called it! Come on pay up you two,"

Joe and Pete groan, taking out their wallets.

"Did you guys place bets on us?" Patrick asks, getting completely ignored by them.

"How much was it again, I don't remember it's been like 5 years now," Pete asks, looking at Andy.

"I think it was either ten or twenty,"

"Can we just say it was ten? I don't have a twenty or two tens on me and I don't want to go to the ATM tomorrow morning." Joe says, rummaging through his wallet.

"Sure that works," Pete and Joe both hand Andy one ten dollar bill each.

"What the hell, was Andy the only one that thought I would confess?" Patrick says. He seemed more upset at the fact that Pete and Joe put their bets on you confessing first rather than him.

"Come inside, it's freezing out here and we still haven't gotten our waters yet," Pete says, holding the door open for Andy and Joe.

You get up and gesture for Patrick to do the same, walking to the doorway.

"I fucking hate you and I hope you know that," You whisper to Pete jokingly, proceeding inside with Patrick and Pete behind you.

"Love you too N/n.." Pete says sarcastically, walking to the table where a load of plastic water bottles were, grabbing three of them.

"I hate him," You say, looking at Pete walk away and disappear into the room the three were in before.

"Me too sometimes but honestly if it weren't for him I probably would have never said anything," Patrick looks at you.

"What do you mean?"

"He's the one that organized the whole plan of playing Bang The Doldrums and not showing it to you until earlier during the show," Patrick answers, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Huh, he told me you said something about not showing me until now. You know, maybe I don't hate him as much anymore now."

Patrick laughs, grabbing your hand and pulling you along to the table, grabbing two bottles for himself and you.

You smile to yourself, looking at your entangled hands then at him as he walked you to the room the boys were in.

You couldn't have been happier in all the years of your life up until now, and you wouldn't change or trade it for anything in the world. You were happy that you finally got to be like this with Patrick, the boy that was always so nice to everyone no matter what, the boy that knew exactly what to say if anyone was ever down, the boy that never left you no matter how difficult or bad it got.

This was the boy that you fell in love with since the moment you saw him, and he loved you back.

3:13 ─────────ㅇ─ 3:31

This took me forever to finish, and thank gods that I hyper fixated on FOB again (more than many times throughout the making of this fic,) because if not it wouldn't have ever gotten finished. I think I might end up writing more fics for Patrick, let me know if you would like for that to happen, send in some requests if you would like as well! Thank you for reading this seriously, regardless if your new or if you've been a follower since I started posting my fics on here, I appreciate you all for continuing to read my stuff because it makes me truly feel like I'm getting better and that people enjoy my stuff.

[hongcherry]

pretty please (stay with me) || c.sc | 6 (m)

“After being assigned a fashion show for your big senior project, you set off to find volunteers to make it successful. However, when you meet Choi Seungcheol and his unfriendly clique through your volunteers, you realize they’re an unwanted package deal you can’t escape from. Can you handle Seungcheol’s obnoxious friends, and can he handle your brash behavior?”

🍒 Pairing: businessMajor!Seungcheol x fashionMajor!Reader (afab)

🍒 Rating/Genres/AUs: M(18+); Slice of life (!!!), slow burn, drama, fluff, angst, smut; Unrequited enemies to lovers, strangers to lovers, college au

🍒 Warnings: General tws + the big talk 🫣, mentions of slut-shaming and degradation (not in bed) -> plz lmk if im missing any! | [Smut warnings] protected sex, oral (f.), multiple orgasms, fingering, cum play, cum swallowing

🍒 WC: 12.6k

🍒 Betas: Sarah, Indi, Kelly, Freya 😻

🍒 Author’s Note: It's always so exciting and saddening when a series ends! It's been over a month since this series started! Special appreciation and thanks to those who have given me feedback and/or were here from the beginning! I really enjoy reading your reactions and analysis!

As I said before, this is the longest fic I've ever written, so this fic holds a special place in my heart for that reason alone. Anyway, thank you again (no this won't be the last time I say it!). Please enjoy the last chapter of "pretty please (stay with me)" 🥹❣️

also read here: AO3 | Wattpad

seventeen masterlist | main masterlist

previous chapter \\ series masterpost // the end

You haven’t stood still in the past hour—buzzing around to everyone in the dressing room to make sure everything is being executed correctly. From last-minute wardrobe alterations to doing makeup and hair touches, you’ve been moving non-stop. Overseeing a fashion show is not easy, or maybe you’re just overthinking the tiniest details.

You aren’t getting a second chance at this, so you want to reduce the possibility of mistakes.

“Everything looks great; take a rest,” Mingyu tells you gently.

You glance up from your clipboard, having printed your to-do list and notes prior. Mingyu stands next to you with a kind smile. Your eyes scan him briefly. You reach forward to fix his outfit for the nth time, but he carefully grabs your wrists.

“It looks fine,” he chuckles.

“Exactly. It looks fine. I need it to be perfect,” you huff.

“You have twenty minutes before the show starts. Let’s go get some fresh air,” he says.

Despite your several headshakes, Mingyu pulls you out of the dressing room and toward the lobby.

“…doing here?”

“You weren’t answering my text or calls. I’d figure you’d be here.”

“We should talk another time.”

You strain your hearing when the voices register in your head. Mingyu glances at you and slows in his steps. From how clear their voices are, you figure Hajun and Seungcheol are around the corner.

“Let’s go out the other way,” Mingyu says, stepping in the other direction. You put a hand on his arm to stop him. You’re too curious to not eavesdrop.

“I’ll be quick,” you hear Hajun say.

Seungcheol sighs. “I already told you over the phone that I didn’t want to be around you when you’re being disrespectful.”

“I know, I know,” she says. “I’m sorry I said all those things to her. I just…I just wanted to look out for you.”

You have no doubt who she’s talking about. If she wants to apologize, she should apologize to you.

“I appreciate the thought, but I’m fine. She’s fine. She’s not as bad as you think,” Seungcheol replies.

“I think you’re just too kind, Cheollie,” she says. “She’s not very nice. She’s not been a good influence on you.”

“That grade wasn’t because of her,” he reasons as if he knows what she’s referring to.

Your eyebrows scrunch at that. What is he talking about? What grade?

“No? Then why have you been so distracted in class? Or why do you show up exhausted?” 

“Those have all been my choices, though,” Seungcheol argues.

“Perhaps, but does she know the world doesn’t revolve around her? She should be considerate and stop being so clingy,” Hajun explains. 

Maybe if you viewed her neutrally, you would think she genuinely has his best interest at heart. But with how she’s treated you, it’s difficult to believe that. 

Mingyu tugs on your arm gently.

“You have ten minutes until showtime,” he whispers in your ear.

You close your eyes, listening to Hajun give more reasons for why you aren’t fit for Seungcheol. You want to stay and hear it all. You want to know if he will keep defending you. However, you’re not about to let all your hard work go to waste.

You nod, tearing yourself away and striding back to the room. You roll your shoulders back, head held high as you channel your attention on doing another round of adjustments.

When it’s three minutes until the show, you discreetly peep your head around the curtains. The theatre is packed, mostly with faces you don’t know. Though on one side, you can see your dad and sister. On the other side, are your new friends. Though the one person you are hoping to see isn’t there.

Seungcheol’s seat is empty.

You know he’s here. You hate how your mind starts forming negative thoughts. Perhaps Hajun has succeeded in making him hate you. Maybe he left with her.

You move away from the curtains and stare at the floor. There’s a tightening in your chest that’s a painful discomfort. After the argument, you were prepared not to see him here. Yet after the brief conversation and learning he had still gotten tickets, hope had risen. Even if it was just a sliver, you wanted to believe you could go back to where you were. Part of you even wished you were blissfully ignorant of his assumptions of you—even though they’re wrong and a “joke” to him.

You have the sudden urge to stand him up tomorrow. You don’t want to see him knowing he was here for you but left with her. However, you need to stop running away. You know you will be happier in the future if you have closure.

Before you can take another glance at the audience, Dr. Lim’s voice sounds.

“Alright, everyone, you’ve all been working hard this semester, and I’m very proud of you all,” he starts, “Remember, you’ll all give a quick introduction of your collection, and then once all your models have walked, you’ll give a final statement.”

You feel a hand on your arm. You turn to see Dae beside you. She’s smiling at you, wiggling your arm as if to say, “We did it!”

You offer a small one, trying to focus on the show again. Too much is going through your mind, and you need to narrow it down.

“You look nervous,” Dae whispers in your ear while Dr. Lim keeps speaking.

“I am, a little,” you answer.

“Don’t worry, I am too. At least we’re done, though. Well, we will be in a few hours,” she giggles.

“Okay, everyone is free to watch from anywhere backstage except for the person on deck. If you’re next, you must be here and ready to go. Everyone ready?”

You nod along with the rest of your class.

“Great, George, you’re first. Siwon, you’re on deck. Don’t forget your order, everyone!”

With that, people start moving. Dae guides you to a corner backstage that has a decent view. It’s angled so you can see your family more than your friends. You crane your neck to check the seats again. This time, two seats are missing. Jeonghan isn’t there anymore. Odd.

“Good evening, all,” Dr. Lim greets as he walks onto the stage. There’s faint music playing in the background, and your heart starts to race knowing there’s no going back now.

“Thank you for coming to support our designers. I am eager to show you the student’s work. Please keep in mind that each student was in charge of their theme, hair, makeup, music, lighting, promotion, and of course, their clothes,” he explains. 

“There won’t be an intermission as the show is rather short, so if you need to go, please exit quietly. With that, also please turn off your cellular devices. Now that I’ve rambled long enough, let’s get started!”

The audience claps as the lights dim. You and Dae watch your peers conduct their shows, both commenting on them quietly every so often. The themes range from specific colors, to movies, to holidays. Although you don’t like most of your classmates, it’s nice to see the variety of art being presented. Soon, it’s yours and Dae’s turn. You wish each other good luck before tending to your models.

You’re on deck, going down the line of your models as you listen to Dae’s introduction. 

“Hello everyone, I’m Dae, and my collection is titled, ‘Limitless’.”

You smile when you hear a few familiar hollers. You’re glad she befriended all your new friends too.

“My theme is space as I want to learn and grow endlessly. Although our space is dark, I want to be one of the stars that shine.”

Dae’s voice fades out as you continue your inspection.

“Take deep breaths,” Mingyu says when you approach him. You reach up and shift a few pieces of his outfit. He stands still as you do so.

“Thanks,” you murmur. “No funny business out there, okay?”

Mingyu smiles. “Of course. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Good, because I know where you live,” you threaten. It’s meant to be told jokingly, but you both know you’re serious.

“Always so charming,” he laughs.

“So I’ve been told,” you smile and pat his chest. “Thanks for agreeing to do this, Mingyu.”

“I could never say no to showing off my handsome features,” he replies, tilting his chin up with confidence.

“Maybe I should have asked Jeonghan instead,” you tease.

Mingyu scoffs playfully, opening his mouth to reply but stops when Dr. Lim appears.

“Yn, ready?”

You face him and nod. “I’m good to go.”

“Excellent,” he pauses, “It was nice having you in class again. I’m wishing you a bright future. You have talent, and I’m excited to see what you do with it.”

“Thank you, Dr. Lim,” you reply. He gives you a grin before leaving again.

Mingyu’s thumbs raise in encouragement when you glance at him. The small smile you offer fails to hide your nervousness.

“People are going to love your designs,” Mingyu reassures. “Now, go get yourself ready.”

“R-right,” you say.

You make your way to the front of your model’s line as you hear Dae give her ending speech. You want to listen to what she’s saying, but you’re too anxious. You glance at yourself in the mirror that is situated backstage, quickly adjusting the outfit you made yourself.

It’s all red—not because of Seungcheol, you tell yourself, but because you needed to match the fabric Jeonghan had bought you—with the top being covered in rhinestones and fading out. The dress hugs your torso and then flares into a flowy bottom with a slit. Over your neck and shoulder blades is red lace that is attached to the fabric Jeonghan got you, giving you a cape that pools on the floor a little. The space between your dress and the cape shows enough skin to be sexy but not overly so to be inappropriate for a school event. 

Although the fabric was meant to be used for one of your model’s outfits, it wasn’t the blue you wanted, and you had already switched your design after Tori took the original from you. You had already planned to make your own dress for the event but hadn’t decided on the design. Since you didn’t want Jeonghan’s fabric to go to waste, you created a design based on it—using your original idea meant for the blue fabric but tweaking it.

Applause erupts, cueing you that you are next. Although you aren’t able to watch Dae’s show, you know Seoah is recording, upon your request, so you can watch it later.

Dae walks backstage as Dr. Lim goes to introduce you.

Dae is beaming, eyes crinkling and mouth open in utter happiness. She goes to you and wraps her arms around you.

“What a rush! That was so fun,” she gushes. “You’re going to do great.”

You return the hug quickly. Her energy bleeds into yours, and your heart races with nervousness. After years of being a spectator of the show, it’s finally your turn to be a participant. You feel all your years at the university have led to this moment. 

“Please welcome Yn,” Dr. Lim says.

Dae gives you an encouraging pat on the back before she steps away. You take a moment to inhale a deep breath, rolling back your shoulders and stepping out onto the stage.

The stage lights are blinding, making it difficult to see out into the entire crowd. You take the mic from your professor and curl your fingers around the object a little tighter than you should. Your eyes dart across unfamiliar faces as your eyes try to adjust to the lights.

“Good evening. My name is Yn, and my collection is titled, ‘Pinwheel’,” you start, voice wavering to show how anxious you are. As you take a quick second to recollect yourself, your eyes snag on a face you’re keen to see.

Seungcheol.

He didn’t leave.

Normally, you would question why he took so long to be seated, but you’re too jittery with the show. You don’t have the energy. Rather you focus on his eyes. They watch you fondly. His hair is pushed from his face like he put some product in it. You feel honored he dressed up for you.

He tilts his head and stretches his lips into a reassuring smile. Although it makes your heart pump quicker, it also gives you the push you need to continue.

“You’ll see an array of colors and designs that represent the four elements—air, water, earth, and fire. I wanted to try different styles that still coordinated together in some way. I hope you all enjoy,” you continue.

The crowd applauds, and amongst the noise, you can make out a few hollers from your friends. It eases your nervousness as you walk off stage. The lights adjust, and the track Jihoon created begins to play.

You motion for the first model to begin walking. You stay in the same spot as your volunteers ascend the runway. You fall into a rhythm as you time your models. When it comes to Mingyu, you expect him to sneak in a joke. However, his face is set in stone and is serious. You smile softly and lightly touch his arm to signal him. 

You glance beyond the curtain to watch him for a second. As Mingyu promised, he doesn’t do anything to ruin your show. If you didn’t know he was a photography major, you would suspect he was an actual model. A goofy part of your brain wonders if he practiced his walk in his apartment.

Two models left and then everyone will do one more walk. That’s all you have left. Despite the already short time of your portion of the show, it feels a lot shorter. Everything has been going well so far. No models slip, your outfits stay intact, and there aren't any technical difficulties.

You appear in front of the audience again as your models finish their last trip around the stage. Your models stay on the stage, allowing the audience to associate the designs with the designer.

“As you’ve heard many times tonight, thank you for coming. This project was challenging, but the reward was worth it. If you have any questions about my collection, please don’t hesitate to ask me after the show. Thank you,” you conclude, giving a bow.

Each clap from the audience chips away at the weight on your shoulders. You can breathe easier knowing that that is it. The project you’ve been waiting to do since before your freshman year has finally come and gone. And gone well nonetheless.

You watch as your friends and family stand, big smiles on all their faces. Although they all mean a lot to you, you can’t help but look for Seungcheol out of all of them.

He stands tall, hands clapping together, with a huge grin on his handsome face. His eyes shine with pride, and you can feel that familiar warmth spreading across your chest again. It feels like you’ve just given your first fashion show as a big-name designer, but in reality, it’s simply a senior project. Seungcheol makes it feel more than it is. And that makes you feel all the more confident.

There are only three more students after you. You and Dae go back to you where you were originally seated, this time accompanied by Mingyu—now dressed in his own clothes. As the show ends, all the students file onto the stage.

“It was a joy to witness the progression of the student’s works. Thank you for another successful show. Seniors, you should all be proud of your work,” Dr. Lim pauses to glance at you all. “Please enjoy the refreshments in the lobby. You’re welcome to mingle and network for at least another hour. Now, please give another round of applause for our talented students.”

The sound fills your chest with a bittersweet feeling as you take your final bow.

“Your designs were gorgeous!” Seoah exclaims when she finds you in the lobby. She runs into you, wrapping her arms around you in a tight hug. Your father comes next, joining in a three-way embrace.

“You did amazing, sweetheart,” he compliments. Your heart is swelling from their kind words. They have seen some of your past designs, but this is different. Even though it’s a school production, it’s still the biggest fashion show you’ve ever been a part of.

“I need you to make me that green one! The one that looked like it was made of leaves and vines. That was my favorite. You get to keep your clothes, right?” Seoah speaks quickly in excitement.

You laugh softly, nodding. “I’m afraid family relations only grant you a five-percent discount.”

“What?” she huffs. “I should get it for free for being the best sister.”

“You’re my only sister,” you argue.

“Which makes me more special!”

“Alright, girls. We can arrange a business deal at home. I’m going to take Seoah to get some ice cream. We’ll see you later,” your father says. You give them each a last hug before waving them goodbye.

You don’t even get a minute break before you feel arms wrap around you.

“I told you you would do great!”

Soonyoung’s loud voice rings in your ear, causing you to flinch. He tears himself from you with a big smile. Your friends gather around in a semicircle, all showering you with praises and words of encouragement. However, like before, one face is missing from the crowd.

“Even though I just met you this semester, I’m proud of you,” Yejun says. You thank him before watching as he leaves to go to Dae. He’s more her friend than yours, but you’re still grateful for his words.

“Does Mingyu get to keep his outfit?” Vernon questions.

You shake your head.

“Good,” Seungkwan chimes in. “He doesn’t deserve such nice clothes.”

“Hey!” Mingyu gasps, offended.

“Excuse me?” an unfamiliar voice interrupts your crowd. All heads turn to see an older woman, dressed professionally. “Yn, right?”

You turn away from your friends to greet the stranger. “Yes, hello.”

“My name’s Park Quinn. I work for a local agency and wanted to give you my contact information. I loved your collection,” she says.

Your eyes widen. “Oh, that’d be great.”

You take the card she gives you.

“I don’t want to take time away from your friends, so please contact me whenever you can. We can try to arrange something if you’re interested.”

You nod, trying not to seem too enthusiastic and eager at the proposal.

“Of course. Thank you, Ms. Park.”

She smiles and then turns away. Before you can dive back into your friend’s bickering, which you can hear faintly in the background, more people come up to greet you. Many of whom you don’t know. Some are prospective students; others are more recruiters.

You’re talking to different people for what feels like ages before the crowd finally slows down. Your friends left a few minutes ago, telling you they’ll arrange a time you can all hang out. 

You’re backstage to gather your belongings and clothes when there’s a soft knock on the open door.

“I’m almost done,” you announce, figuring it’s Dr. Lim coming to tell you to hurry so he can lock the theatre.

“Take your time, Cherry.”

Your hands pause in reaching for a garment bag, gaze whizzing to see the person.

Seungcheol stands in the doorway with a small bouquet of flowers. They’re a mix of reds, pinks, and greens. It’s beautiful. 

Too nervous about the show earlier, you finally take in his attire. He’s wearing an all-black suit, the undershirt being a turtleneck. You saw his new hairstyle while on stage, but it still surprises you to see it up close. 

He looks stunning.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, a little shocked to see him.

He smiles, walking farther into the room. “I wanted to give you these.”

He holds out the bouquet. You stare at it a little too long because Seungcheol starts to chuckle.

“Not the ones you like?” he teases. He begins to set them down on a nearby table, but you stop him. You take it in your free hand, the other occupied with other items.

“They’re pretty,” you reassure. “Thank you.”

He grins when you finally accept them. In exchange, he grabs your belongings from you. You tilt the flowers to your face, breathing in their fresh smell and grinning slightly.

“Your collection was incredible,” he says.

“You think so?” you hum, eyes glancing at the clothes which are hanging in bags. 

“The best out there.”

You smile. “You sound a little biased, Seungcheol.”

“Maybe,” he shrugs, “but I’m sure I’m not the only one who thinks so.”

Silence fills the room as you both stare at each other. His eyes drift to your body. You feel a little shy, and the need to fill the silence grows. You want to ask what took him so long to come into the theatre, but that would mean you were actively looking for him. It would also mean Hajun would most likely be mentioned if he decided to go into detail. That topic could wait until tomorrow. You’re enjoying being able to talk to him like you used to, albeit a little more consciously.

“D-do you like it?” you ask in lieu.

Seungcheol’s eyes move back to yours.

“You made this?” he asks, gesturing to your dress.

You nod.

“You’re very talented,” he praises. “Though that was evident earlier… You look beautiful, Yn.”

Something about hearing your real name from his mouth has the compliment’s meaning more impactful.

“I do?” you ask, shifting your weight.

“I’ve never heard you so doubtful before,” he observes with a gentle grin. “First about your designs, and now about your looks.”

He reaches out to you, and for a split second, you think he’s going to caress your face. Instead, he grazes his fingers over the cape’s fabric.

“You do look pretty,” he hums. His eyes scan the material, gaze softening as if recalling something bittersweet.

“Jeonghan bought it for me,” you state. You’re not sure why you disclose that information. Why does it matter to Seungcheol if Jeonghan gifted the fabric to you? He probably doesn’t care. The air just felt too suffocating to stay silent. 

“That’s nice of him,” he mutters before pulling away. Maybe you’re imagining it, but he sounds more monotone than before.

“Y-yeah.”

Another pause.

“Actually, I should probably change out of it. Do you mind?” you ask. You expect him to make a joke of “having seen it all already,” but he doesn’t.

“Oh, yeah. Of c-course,” he answers, turning around.

You wait a few seconds to ensure he isn’t going to peek before finding your bag with your spare clothes. The dress you don is too long to wear outside. You don’t want it to get snagged on anything; plus, you’ll probably get your foot tangled in the fabric in the car later.

You quickly change into a simple dress and sneakers, stuffing your red dress in another garment bag.

“Okay, I’m done,” you announce.

Seungcheol turns slowly. He takes in your new outfit, and if you didn’t squirm and look away, you would’ve spotted the little smile on his lips.

“Do you need help cleaning up?” he asks, glancing around the room. It’s mostly empty. You just need to carry the clothes back to your car.

“You don’t have to stay. Thank you for the flowers,” you say.

“Well, I’m not letting you walk to your car alone,” he replies.

“I’ll be fine. The campus is well-lit.”

Seungcheol eyes you, mouth pursing to tell you he doesn’t care.

You sigh and hold out the bouquet, knowing he isn’t going to leave. “Hold these.”

He does so and watches as you drape the garment bags over a table. You start to dissemble the clothing rack.

“I could’ve done that,” Seungcheol says.

“I’m sure you’re capable, but it’s quicker if I do it. I know how to take it apart,” you reason. You place the pieces in the bag they came in, zipping it and placing the strap on your shoulder.

“Let me,” Seungcheol offers.

“I don’t know,” you say slowly, stepping away. “You look awfully pretty holding those flowers.”

And he does. 

His dark clothes and hair contrasting with the bright colors of the flowers, create a pleasing sight. 

Upon hearing your teasing tone, he grins. “You look prettier with them, so take them.”

He holds out the object, but you shake your head. You hang the clothes over your arms despite his second protest.

“I need a good view on our walk to my car,” you explain and start to move to the door. He follows reluctantly.

Somehow along the journey, you end up swapping items anyway. You now hold the bouquet, unable to stop taking several whiffs. You can’t remember if you’ve ever gotten flowers before. Maybe one or two, but never a whole bouquet.

Seungcheol packs your car carefully, ensuring he doesn’t accidentally destroy any of your outfits. They’re all protected in bags, but that doesn’t make them invincible.

“Are we still meeting tomorrow?” he asks when you’re seated in your car; your window is rolled down to talk to him. He has one hand resting on the roof of your car as he peers in.

“If you’re still willing to,” you reply.

“I am,” he answers.

“Okay.”

A pause.

“Will you text me when you get home?” he asks.

“You don’t need—”

“Or I can tail you. It’s your choice, Cherry.”

You exhale audibly.

“I’ll text you,” you decide.

He smiles. “I thought so.”

He stands up to leave, telling you a goodbye you barely register as you debate something in your head.

“Wait, Ch-Seungcheol,” you call and peek your head out.

He pauses in his steps to look back.

“Will you… text me when you get home, too?” you ask hesitantly. The question shouldn’t make you nervous, but it does. Maybe because it’s a hint that you still care about him. 

The corner of Seungcheol’s mouth rises, a gentle chuckle escaping into the night.

“Yes.”

The simple word has you reflecting your own grin, giving him a final wave as he walks to his car, which is easily visible due to the nearly-empty lot. You wait for him to get into his vehicle before you leave.

You [10:48 PM]: Home.

Choi Seungcheol [10:56 PM]: good

You [10:57 PM]: Are you texting and driving, or are you home as well?

Choi Seungcheol [10:57 PM]: home (:

You [10:58 PM]: Did you forget to tell me?

Choi Seungcheol [10:59 PM]: no i just got home

You [10:59 PM]: Okay.

You [10: 59 PM]: Thank you for coming and for the flowers.

Choi Seungcheol [11:00 PM]: u dont need to thank me. i enjoyed it

You [11:01 PM]: Still… Goodnight, Seungcheol.

Choi Seungcheol [11:01 PM]: sweet dreams cherry

The trek to Seungcheol’s apartment door is grave.

As much as you try to push away the last memories you had here, they’re difficult to ignore. Each step makes the feelings resurface. You just wish this visit won’t end in the same way. His words from that day still sting, but you’re tired of staying in the past. The short interaction with him last night reminds you of how nice it is to be around him when you aren’t fending off his business friends. It spurs the hope you once felt that you could somehow make it work with him.

Seungcheol had messaged you earlier that something had come up and asked to meet at his apartment instead of the café. You were hesitant at first, but he reassured you he wasn’t going to offer a ride. It’s a bit silly that the decision is based on whether he is driving you, but you feel more comfortable knowing you don’t have to rely on him if things go awry.

Seungcheol opens the door with a kind smile.

“Come in,” he greets, stepping to the side.

You move past him and take off your shoes while he shuts and locks the door.

“I’m sorry about the change in plans, I—”

Your scream has him halting.

You hastily push yourself behind Seungcheol, shoving your back against the wall and clutching his shirt roughly. 

The abrupt yank on his clothes has Seungcheol stumbling backward. His hands come up to steady himself on the wall, trying not to crush you. 

You hold him close to your body as a shield.

“Get it away! Please, Cheol! Make it leave!” you yelp frantically.

“W-what? What’s wrong?!” Seungcheol asks, completely startled by your sudden outburst. He tries to turn to face you, but your strong grip on his shirt limits his range of motion. “It’s only… Oh.”

Seungcheol laughs.

A chorus of “ha’s” that has you hitting his back in frustration.

“Cheol!” you whine when a loud woof sounds in the room.

“I didn’t know you were scared of dogs,” he muses.

In front of Seungcheol is a big, furry dog. The breed is unknown to you, but that’s the least of your worries. You truly don’t give a fuck. You just need it gone.

“Well, I am, so make it go away!” you cry and give his muscular back another thud. 

“Okay, okay. Let go, Cherry,” he chuckles. You slowly release him, keeping your body one with the wall.

“Come on, Cho, let’s give Cherry some space,” he says cheerfully to the dog; the pitch is higher than before. Why does the beast get to hear that tone from him?

“It’s staring at me,” you huff, eyes on the animal carefully.

“He’s just interested in you,” Seungcheol chuckles, hand rubbing the dog’s head. He moves away and tries to call the dog to him, but it doesn't listen.

Another yelp comes from your lips when it starts to walk toward you again. Seungcheol kneels down and holds onto its chest instead, almost as if he’s hugging it.

“Go to my bedroom; I’ll be there in a second,” he instructs kindly.

“It’s going to chase me,” you say.

He laughs softly. “I’m holding onto him. You’re safe.”

“Are you sure?” you ask cautiously.

“Yes. Go on,” he smiles encouragingly, nodding in the direction of his room.

Slowly, you push away from the wall. You stay a good distance from the beast in Seungcheol’s arms. As if it wants to tease you, it barks at you. That lights a fire under your ass that makes you break out into a sprint.

You shut his door in a hurry.

You step away from the entry in case the dog decides to knock it down. As you unwind, your eyes scan his room. Nothing has really changed—not that it should’ve. While his bathroom door is ajar, his closet is on full display. You don’t think anything of it, but then your eyes catch on to something red. He has red in his closet, so the color isn’t what intrigues you. What catches your attention is that it’s a dress.

A red dress in Seungcheol’s closet.

You shouldn’t be touching his stuff without his permission, but your hand reaches out on its own. You carefully graze your fingers over the material. The silk is smooth under your touch. It feels good against your skin.

There’s a bag hanging off the hanger. You should stop while you can—snooping never ends well for anyone. Yet, that doesn’t halt your hands from removing the bag and peering inside. It’s empty except for a receipt.

You figure it’s for the dress; however, the name of the place at the top isn’t a clothing store.

It’s a fabric store.

Seungcheol’s door suddenly opens, jolting you from your spot, paper still in hand.

“Are you okay? I would’ve put him in another room if I had known you were scar—”

His eyes fall onto your hand. They grow slightly, and he stands still.

You take the moment to look back at it, scanning the item to try to figure out what it’s for. Before you can examine it for long, it’s pulled from your grasp.

“What’s that for?” you ask as he stuffs it in the pocket of his jeans.

“Nothing. Why are you looking through my stuff?” he questions back. His tone isn’t unkind, but it’s not as cordial as it was before.

You can lie about it, but it was in a bag you deliberately opened. Unless he forgot where he put it, he would know the truth.

“I was curious,” you answer truthfully.

“It’s not polite to look through people’s things,” he scolds and walks to his closet door. He starts to shut it, but you can’t move past the mysterious dress.

“Are you seeing someone?” you wonder. There’s something sharp prodding your heart at the possibility. Perhaps it shouldn’t matter. Maybe you’re just here to mend a broken platonic friendship rather than a romantic one. You were never his to begin with, but something breaks in your chest at the idea of the opportunity being taken from you.

Suddenly, “Are you dating Hajun?”

All those times you pushed him away… Were you pushing him into her arms instead? Is that why he never let go of her? But he didn’t sound like her boyfriend in the theatre’s lobby.

Seungcheol finishes shutting his closet door before he focuses on you. His eyes dance across your face for a moment. You can’t tell what he’s thinking.

“What makes you think that?” he asks. He moves to sit on the bed, patting the space beside him, but you shake your head. You don’t want to be close to him right now.

“The dress,” you trail off, “in your closet.”

He releases a dispirited exhale.

“It’s not hers,” he says.

The grip around your heart loosens an inch but still holds on tightly.

“Hana’s?”

“No.”

“Then?”

“Let’s resolve our other issues before we get into another, okay?” he suggests.

Your eyebrows furrow. “So, the dress would cause another issue?”

“Hasn’t it already?” he sighs. “You weren’t meant to see that.”

You scoff, arms crossing. “I would’ve never guessed.”

Seungcheol frowns at your sarcasm.

“We can talk about it later.”

“Why dance around the topic? Just tell me if you’re seeing someone,” you argue.

“Why?” he replies, eyebrow quirking.

“Because—” I want to know if there’s a chance for us. “—that would explain the dress.”

“Just dro—”

“What’s the big deal?”

“It’s—”

“Just tell me.”

“Cherry,” Seungcheol groans.

“Yes or no. It’s simple.”

“No.”

“No, you’re not dating, or no, you don’t want to answer me?”

“No, I’m not dating anyone.”

You narrow your eyes at him. Some relief floods in your chest, but there’s still something odd about the wardrobe addition.

“Then—”

“It’s yours,” he finally huffs out, irritation laced in his tone.

That shuts you up successfully.

“It’s for you,” he sighs, voice softer, and stands up. “Or, it was for you.”

He pulls open his closet and takes the garment off its hanger. He grabs one of your hands and places the item in it. Before you can get a proper grip on it, Seungcheol lets go which forces you to clutch it quickly. 

“Wha-What do you mean? I-I didn’t leave this here. I’ve never worn this. I—”

Seungcheol shakes his head. “It’s new. I got it before… before our fight. It was supposed to be a surprise for you.”

Your eyes drift to the dress in your hands, lifting it up to see it better. It’s nothing too flashy, but it’s still beautiful with its simplicity.

That pang in your heart comes back but for a different reason.

“You’re not just saying this as an excuse, right?” you ask, the thought bubbling in your mind.

He gently takes the dress from you, laying it out on one side of the bed while guiding you to the other. He sits you down.

“No,” he answers. “I’m telling you the truth. It’s yours if you want it—no strings attached. If not, I can donate it.”

Your eyes move back to the clothing item.

“Why did you get it for me?” you ask and look at him.

Seungcheol rakes a hand through his hair, ears turning a light pink. “I was going to ask you on a date.”

“Y-you were?” you stammer, eyes wide. You’ve always wondered if what he told you while you were crying in his arms was true or if it was all just said in the heat of the moment. Your heart races knowing he meant them. He really did like you then.

“And I was going to ask you to wear this,” he explains, eyes moving from yours.

You continue to stare at him, flabbergasted. His plan was sweet, and part of you feels bad for having ruined it. Though, that wasn’t entirely your fault.

You’re not sure how to respond. You feel utterly honored that he got you a dress for your potential first date with him. However, you don’t know where you stand right now. Unresolved issues still hang in the air.

“Let’s talk about something else, then get back to this, alright?” he tries again.

This time, you nod.

“I know I already apologized, but I truly am sorry for what I said here last time,” he begins.

“Were you really just joking?” you wonder.

“It was a mix, honestly. I was a little shocked at the thought of you never having sex before.”

You frown but try to keep your emotions in control. “Why?”

“Because I’ve heard you’ve gotten around.” He winces as the words come out. You glance in your lap for a second, grabbing the hem of your skirt to play with it.

“From who?”

You aren’t too surprised to hear this information. You have plenty of “enemies” on campus. One of them was bound to start rumors. Hell, you have a few exes that go to the university, so they could’ve spread false information too.

“Several people,” he speaks softly so he doesn’t hurt your feelings. “I actually knew about you before we met at Jeonghan’s.”

“Really?” you question and look at him again. 

“Yeah, but I heard about you a lot more when Hajun and Hana realized who you were,” he explains. “I guess their words stuck without me knowing.”

Your lips dip down. “Did you believe them?”

You hold your breath as you wait for his reply. You already have a feeling Hajun and Hana have talked enough shit about you to fill two whole toilets, but their opinion of you isn’t the one that matters.

Seungcheol sighs, gaze drifting from you and then away.

“I’ve never seen you act the way they described, so not completely,” he answers.

“Not completely?” you repeat.

“There was always that thought in the back of my head… Wondering if you just wanted to sleep with me.”

A scoff. “You thought that even when I kept pushing you away at the start?”

“Maybe you were playing hard to get,” he attempts to reason.

“No, I was genuinely annoyed,” you say.

“Ouch,” he frowns.

“Also, need I remind you that you were the one that kept approaching me?” you add.

Seungcheol leans back on one hand, the other running through his hair again.

“I know,” he says. “I think I just heard Hajun and Hana talk so much that the thought was just always there because of them. I never saw the person I heard about… Well, you weren’t always nice, which I also heard.”

You roll your eyes, not truly irritated at his last comment since it isn’t entirely false. “I’m not one to play along if I don’t like you.”

“I’m aware,” he answers, a small smile on his lips.

“Why did you stay friends with them when they said bad things about me?” you question next.

“Like I said that day, I had known them a long time, and we were in a project together.”

You recall his reasoning, but you still want to ask. “That’s it?”

“Why do you think I did it?”

“Because you agreed with their views on me,” then you mutter, “or maybe because you liked Hajun.”

Seungcheol’s eyebrows angle downward. “I’ve never felt anything romantic toward Hajun, and I didn’t believe them.”

“Did it not bother you when they said that stuff?” you ask.

“It did. I really did tell them to stop when you weren’t around,” he answers. “It’s not easy to let go of people you’ve known for years.”

“I beg to differ,” you huff.

“Would you ditch Dae if she spoke badly about me constantly?” he questions.

You tilt your head. “That would mean I have to care about you a lot.”

“Don’t you?” he teases lightly, leaning toward you.

You smile small. “More than her? No.”

“Breaking my heart, Cherry,” he chuckles and pulls away. He inhales deeply and then continues. “I was hoping something would change, and you would all get along.”

“I told you it would never have worked out,” you reply.

“Wishful thinking,” he shrugs.

You nod, moving your gaze again. An important question lingers in your mind. You want to ask, but you’re truly nervous about his answer. At one point, you would’ve found a way for it to work, but now, you don’t know if you can.

“Ask me,” Seungcheol coaxes softly. You glance at him, wondering how he knows you have a question for him.

He chuckles. “I know there’s more running in that pretty head of yours.”

Taking a deep breath, you nod.

“Are you still talking to them?”

He was just talking to Hajun yesterday, so you aren’t going to be surprised if he says yes.

“No, I’m not,” he answers sternly.

That shocks you more.

“Y-you’re not?”

He chuckles, shaking his head.

“I realized I care about you more than I do them,” he says, echoing your earlier words. “I choose you. I’ve always chosen you in the end—even if it didn’t feel like it.“

You’re on the edge of inwardly celebrating. It’s relieving to finally hear he has cut ties with the people who made your life miserable.

“I-I saw you… I mean, I heard you yesterday with Hajun at the theatre,” you confess.

It’s his turn for his eyes to open bigger. “Nothing happened between us.”

“What was she talking about with your grades?” you ask, recalling how she used that against you.

Seungcheol rubs his temples. “I just got a low test score. It really isn’t a big deal.”

“Because of me?” You frown.

“No,” he’s quick to reassure, “it had nothing to do with you.”

“But Hajun said—”

“She was just finding excuses for me not to be there,” he explains. “Her words didn’t mean anything. I’ve gotten low grades before.”

“She seemed serious,” you argue.

“Because she was,” he sighs.

“Do you really think she was looking out for you?”

Seungcheol rubs at the back of his neck. “Sort of, but I also think she was exaggerating things to make you seem worse.”

“I’m sorry if I distracted you from your studies. I should’ve left you alone,” you apologize, averting your gaze.

Seungcheol reaches out to grab one of your hands. You look at him when you feel his touch.

“Even if you tried, I would’ve kept bugging you,” he replies. His words make you feel a little better, but you still feel guilty despite him saying it isn’t your fault.

“Why would you have?” you ask.

He smiles kindly, eyes softening at the thought of his reply.

“Because I liked you and wanted to get to know you more.”

Your face heats at his words, or maybe it’s because your body is tingling with his skin against yours. Regardless, you feel the butterflies awaken in your stomach.

“Do you—do you still,” you trail off, feeling anxious at the question.

“Do I what?” he presses gently. His thumb glides against the top of your hand.

You stare at his floor when you continue slowly, “Do you still like me?”

There’s a moment of silence before you feel his fingers against your chin. He guides you to look at him; he’s staring at you as if he cherishes and adores you. 

It’s the same look he had when he was watching both of your friends at the restaurant. It’s difficult to believe he’s giving that gaze to you now. 

You can’t tear your eyes from him.

“I like you very much,” he declares confidently.

Your mouth twitches as you try to suppress your smile, but it’s pointless. Your lips stretch until they hurt.

Seungcheol mimics your grin. “Do you like me?”

At one point, you would’ve profusely denied it. You’ve been pushing away those tempting thoughts for so long that you can’t do it anymore. There is something about Seungcheol that you can’t shake off.

It could be the way he always holds the door open for you. It could be that he always takes care of you—carrying you so you won’t hurt your feet, offering his home when you need it, holding your belongings so you have to lift as few fingers as possible. Or perhaps it could be the way he makes you feel like your head is in the clouds. 

You always thought you’d want a partner who you didn’t constantly argue with, but you found the light bantering between you two entertaining. Sure, it does get under your skin at times, but you never stay truly mad at him.

Seungcheol makes you feel special. He makes you feel wanted.

He makes you feel loved.

So, with the smile still etched on your face, you answer, “Yes. I like you.”

Seungcheol’s eyes go from quarter moons to waxing crescents. Small wrinkles form as his mouth widens to a gummy smile. The happiness on his face has your heart skipping.

“May I kiss you?” he asks, eyes hopeful.

You nod without hesitation. “Please.”

Seungcheol’s lips still have the same effect as before. It takes your breath away and makes you giddy.

He moves a hand to the back of your neck, pulling you closer until you are nearly on his lap. The position doesn’t offer you much balance since you’re trying not to knee him in the jewels.

You start to pull away when you feel your body slipping off the edge of the mattress.

“Wait, Cheol—” you try to warn, but it’s too late.

You tumble to the floor, dragging him with you.

You both land with a thump as you’re pulled from each other.

Seungcheol’s booming laugh echoes in his room, causing your own stomach to hurt from giggling.

“Are you okay?” he asks between breaths while sitting up. You stand from the floor, straightening out your clothes. He follows you up.

“Yeah,” you reply. “You?”

“I’m fine,” he reassures.

You jump when the dog outside barks at the noise. Seungcheol smiles at you and reaches out to give you a comforting pat.

“Relax, Cherry. Cho isn’t going to hurt you. He’s a big baby,” Seungcheol soothes.

“It didn’t look like one,” you huff, recalling the size of the animal.

Seungcheol guides you back to the bed.

“Do you have any more questions for me?” he asks, easing back into the somber conversation.

You pause as you think. When nothing comes up, you shake your head.

“Do you?” you offer.

“Three,” he answers.

You breathe slowly, preparing yourself for them. “Okay, what’s your first?”

“What else did Hajun tell you by the restroom?” he wonders.

“Oh,” you mumble, not expecting that. You go back to that memory in your head. “A-are you sure you want to know?”

Seungcheol's face grows serious, head nodding curtly.

“She said you left me because I was a slut. She told me you said I was the ‘worst fuck you’ve ever had,’ and she called me worthless,” you pause as Seungcheol’s jaw clenches and eyes narrow. If you weren’t talking about someone else, you would be worried to see such an intense stare. 

“She said you were trying to get rid of me, and the only way you could do that was to sleep with me… Since you know, I just need ‘something between my legs to be satisfied’.”

He’s quiet for a moment. Usually, it doesn’t bother you, but combined with his stare makes you shift uncomfortably.

“I didn’t say any of that. I hope you know that. She made that up,” he says, expression easing when he speaks to you. “I wasn’t even going to say anything, but she kept wondering why you weren’t around. I just told her we had a falling out, and that’s it.”

From the look in his eyes and the tone of his voice, you believe him.

“I believe you,” you voice aloud.

His once-tensed shoulders relax at your words. “I never wanted you to leave. I never wanted to hurt you. You’re not any of the names she called you.”

“Thanks,” you murmur. Although you’ve been trying to ignore Hajun’s words the past few days, you feel better knowing Seungcheol’s true feelings.

“I’m still sorry,” he says.

“I know. I forgive you,” you respond, hand resting on his thigh.

“You don’t have to. I know what I said was disgusting and rude.”

“It was,” you concur, “but I’m willing to forgive you because I don’t think you mean what you said.”

And now he won’t have those toxic people whispering lies in his ears.

“I don’t,” he repeats. “I think people are intimidated by your confidence. You know what you want, and you know your identity, while some people don’t. It scares them, so they take it out on you. They’re jealous of you.”

“It sounds like you're buttering my biscuits, Mr. Choi,” you hum as you listen to him analyze the people who dislike you.

“I’m just being honest,” he says, a slight frown on his lips.

“I appreciate it,” you reply more earnestly. You’re grateful he confirmed he didn’t think those negative thoughts about you. You feel you can circle around the topic for hours, so you ask for the second question.

“Do you like Jeonghan?” Seungcheol asks.

That takes you by surprise. “No, why do you ask?”

You almost laugh at the idea of dating Jeonghan, but you refrain from it. You don’t want Seungcheol to think his question is stupid even if it is.

“You two just seem close,” he says.

“I tolerate him more,” you explain. “I only like you. Now, next question.”

“Wait, I want to make sure you don’t like hi—Hmph!”

Your lips meet his to stop his sentence. He melts quickly against your mouth, a hand reaching out to your waist. You pull away before it can go any further.

“I would never kiss Jeonghan like that,” you smile.

Seungcheol grimaces at the image you put in his head. “That doesn’t mean you don’t like him.”

“So, I would like that fool, but not kiss him?” you wonder. “Okay. Then I like you, but we can’t kiss anymore.”

“What?” he asks, startled.

“If I can like Jeonghan and not kiss him, then I can like you and not kiss you.”

The corner of Seungcheol’s mouth pushes down. His lips purse slightly when he speaks, “Alright, I get it. I believe you. Kiss me.”

“No,” you say defiantly.

“If you like me, then you’ll kiss me,” he explains.

“But you just said—”

“I lied. You have to kiss the people you like,” he corrects quickly, leaning toward you.

“Is that so?” you ask, a mischievous smirk forming on your lips.

Not having a good feeling with the look on your face, Seungcheol sulks, “You only like me, so that means you can only kiss me.”

You smile at hearing his dragged-out words.

“Is that the rule?” you tease.

“Yes,” he huffs.

“Then I guess I can kiss you,” you say. However, you don’t move from your spot.

Seungcheol fusses, “Now, baby.”

“Oh,” you giggle. “Fine.”

You move in closer, smiling when he meets you halfway. The kiss doesn’t last long as you pull away to ask for his third question.

His tongue darts across his bottom lip as he stares at you. His gaze is solemn, and you mentally prepare yourself for what he has to ask.

“It hurt me to know I caused you pain,” he starts slowly. “I never wanted you to think I believed the rumors about you, but I guess they had an effect on me that I wasn’t conscious of. I regretted everything I told you that day the second it came from my mouth. I was so desperate to fix my mistakes that I didn’t take the moment to think.”

You watch him intently. Each word is taken in with great care, trying to push aside the initial feelings of anger and hurt to hear him objectively.

“I know I made a mistake by keeping them my friends for so long. I just wanted things to work out, and I wanted you all to see the good in each other. I know that sounds a little cliché, but it’s true… Maybe I just didn’t want to choose between you all,” he pauses to take a breath.

“Though, most of all, I wanted to know you more. Despite not having the best first impression, I realized quickly you weren’t what people made you out to be. Along the way, I started to see you as more than a friend, but I had trouble finding the right moment to see things through. Then I fucked it up, and I didn’t think I could fix it… but you’re here now. And we’ve talked things through.”

You nod to show you understand what he’s saying.

“So, where do we stand?” he finally asks.

“I’m sure we could go around each other for days, but I’m ready to move on. I was fully prepared to never talk to you again, but I couldn’t,” you stop gradually, not sure if you want to disclose your next thoughts.

“You couldn’t talk to me?” he asks, confused.

Sighing, “No. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“Oh,” he replies, a small smile on his lips.

“Don’t get too happy now. They weren’t all good thoughts.”

“I know,” his smile faltering, “but there were some good ones?”

“Yeah… There were good ones too,” you reply softly.

Seungcheol takes your hands in his, shuffling closer.

“What were they about?” he ponders.

You squeeze his hands. “Your smile.”

At your answer, his lips begin to lift again.

“How you held me,” you continue.

Seungcheol takes that as an invitation to push you back against his pillows. You smile, raising your arms to wrap around his neck as he presses his body against yours. One of his hands snakes under your back while the other rests on the mattress so he doesn’t squish you completely.

“How you kissed me,” you whisper.

The man above you grins wider, pecking your lips tenderly. You chase his lips, and he grants you a lingering kiss before pulling away.

“And most importantly, how you made me feel.”

Seungcheol rubs your back gently. “And how did I make you feel?”

“Like I was yours,” you murmur as your face warms at the confession.

“Will you be mine? Officially?” he asks, gaze darting back and forth between your eyes.

You wonder if he can feel your racing heart against his chest.

“Yes,” you say. “Officially.”

He chuckles, pressing his mouth on yours as if to really make it official.

Your mouths move languidly. You can feel his hair fall around your face, tickling your cheeks. Smiling, you tuck the strands behind his ears and then keep your palms cupping his cheeks.

When you adjust a leg to wrap around his lower back, he moves the hand under you to rub your bare thigh—exposed by your skirt. His hand trails up and down your skin for a moment until it goes lower. He grabs your ass, massaging it over your panties. His lips slip from yours to kiss along your jawline until he finds your neck. You have no doubt that you’ll end up having to hide a purple mark later.

Both your clothes are off in a matter of seconds. Seungcheol’s hands move across your body, exploring each bump and crevice as if it’s his first time. However, you’re no different. You feel like you’ve touched every part of him, yet you still want more.

Your soft moans fill the room when he scatters kisses down your body before latching his mouth on your clit. His hair quickly becomes tangled as you grab it. Your hips roll against his face, chest rising and falling as you get closer to your high. 

His fingers accompany his mouth, pumping and scissoring in your wet hole. His raspy voice sounds sexy as he praises you when you come, but his moans are sexier. His eyes are hooded, drinking up everything you give him until you lax on his mattress.

You don’t even realize he put away your new red dress and slipped on a condom until a dip in the bed catches your attention. Your vision is coming back to you gradually. Seeing Seungcheol with messy hair and his lower face covered in your juices has you pouncing on him. 

His laughter rings out, grabbing your face and slotting his mouth against yours while you straddle him. You don’t care that you can taste yourself on his tongue. You just need him to fill you.

You slide your dripping folds along his thick length, making sure it’s coated so he can sink into you easily. And easy it is.

Both your sighs and strangled moans permeate his room. You stare down at him, mouth open as you move your hips. His brows meet; he’s trying to control his breathing. Each drag of his cock against your walls feels heavenly. Although the pace is similar to the first time, it feels different. There’s more meaning with every circle and rock of your hips. Maybe you’re making it up all in your head, but when Seungcheol pulls you down on top of him to hold you as he begins to thrust his hips up, you know you aren’t.

The way he kisses you tells you he feels the same.

There’s less desperation in his movements now. You don’t have to worry about this being the last time. You don’t have to worry about him hooking up with another person. He isn’t available to anyone anymore. He’s loyal. He’s kind.

He’s yours.

Your legs press against his sides, a loud cry tearing from your throat as he pushes you over the edge. Your walls flutter around his cock that’s still gliding inside you.

“Just for me,” he pants. “You’re just for me.”

You nod, spewing a variation of agreements as you cling to him. Your body rubs against his while he keeps thrusting up. Mewls fall from your mouth as you start to become overstimulated.

Seungcheol coos in your ear, telling you he’s close and that you’re a good girl for letting him use you for his pleasure. His hips stutter each time you clench your walls around him.

By the time Seungcheol pulls out, you are a moaning mess. He flips you over, pulls off the condom, then comes onto your stomach and breasts. You’re sure the sight arouses Seungcheol as he fixates on your body.

His fingers run through his seed, spreading it more across your skin. His tongue darts out against your breast. You watch as he trails the wet muscle along your skin, his cum gathering on it until it’s full. Before you understand what he’s doing, he brings his mouth to yours. You open your mouth, greedily drinking what he’s giving to you. You don’t even stop to think how filthy the act is.

Even though you can tell Seungcheol is spent, he still cleans you with a damp towel before snuggling back in bed. You both fall into slumber a few minutes after.

You wake to a sudden cold breeze.

Whining in your sleep, you roll over to snuggle closer to Seungcheol; however, you’re met with empty space. You peel your eyes open reluctantly, leaning up on an elbow to see where he is.

Seungcheol sits on the edge of the bed with a sweatshirt and sweatpants over his body.

You crawl closer until he’s in arm's reach.

“Where are you going?” you murmur as you snake your arms around his wide frame.

He jolts at your abrupt touch but quickly relaxes once he realizes it’s you. He places his arms over yours, craning his neck to see you.

He pecks your lips. “I have to go walk Cho.”

“Can’t it wait?” you ask.

“He,” Seungcheol corrects, to which you roll your eyes. “And unless you want to clean his pee or poop, then no.”

He carefully pulls your arms from around him and stands, leaving you shivering as the cold air hits your bare body.

Seungcheol pauses by the bed when his eyes see your naked torso.

“You do make it hard to leave, though,” he sighs.

You smile and put a hand out for him to grab. He does, and you instantly tug him back onto the bed.

You kiss him quickly, bringing his hands to your chest, covering them so he can’t move away.

“Stay,” you say between kisses.

“Baby,” he protests while squeezing your breasts. His lips purse every time you lean in for another kiss. You grin in hopes you’re convincing him.

“I have,” a kiss, “to go,” a second kiss, “walk the dog.”

You finally stop your torrent of smooches to pout at him.

He chuckles at your expression. “You’re welcome to join.”

“I rather not get mauled,” you scoff and try to pull him closer, but he resists you this time.

“Why are you scared of them?” he wonders.

“I got attacked by one as a kid, and they never are friendly to me.”

“My poor baby,” he coos as he brushes your cheek. “Don’t worry, Cho is really sweet. Why don’t you meet him? Let him sniff you and then I’ll go walk him quickly.”

You shake your head frantically. “I don’t want it—him anywhere near me.”

“I promise you’ll be fine, but I understand. Maybe another time, okay?” he replies. 

You nod and let your arms fall when he pushes off the bed.

“I’ll just be a few minutes,” he informs while walking to the door.

“Okay,” you mutter and pull the covers over your body. He smiles at you before pushing open the door. Your body freezes when you see black fur at the entrance.

“Hey, sweet boy,” Seungcheol greets the animal happily. He stops the dog from coming inside the room, giving him a few pats and ruffles of the fur before easing him backward. “No, she’s not ready to say hi yet. Come on, let’s go out. You wanna go for a walk?”

Your body relaxes at hearing Seungcheol’s light voice. You’ve never heard it before, and you realize there’s still more to learn about the man.

The door shuts softly. The last thing you see is the dog jumping excitedly as he runs out of view. You hear Seungcheol laugh.

It dawns on you that you don’t know when he got the animal. He definitely wasn’t here the last time you were here. Does this mean you’ll have to stop coming to his apartment now? He spoke highly of the dog, and you trusted Seungcheol to keep you safe, but animals can be unpredictable. Still, you can tell how much Seungcheol likes him.

As instructed, Seungcheol comes back ten minutes later.

“So, how much did you miss me?” he teases while raking a hand through his hair. He takes off his sweatshirt, giving your eyes something to stare at as he walks toward you.

You stop him when he begins to climb into the bed. “Wait.”

“Did something happen while I was gone?” he questions, playfulness replaced with concern.

“No, I just,” you breathe in slowly, “I’d like to meet your dog.”

His eyes grow. “There’s no pressure to do so.”

“I don’t want to be run off by your dog anytime I come here,” you grumble. “Just a quick sniff; that’s all he gets.”

Seungcheol laughs and raises a hand to rub circles against your back. “I forgot to tell you that Cho isn’t mine. My brother had an emergency and needed me to look after him for a few days.”

“Oh,” you hum.

“So, you want to come back here?” he asks, recalling that part of your sentence.

“If you want me here,” you bashfully answer.

He leans down to kiss your forehead, easing your nerves.

“You can come over whenever you want,” he offers. “I would prefer it actually.”

“Why?”

You expect a sweet response, but instead, he just smirks and says, “Because I need someone to clean the place.”

You scoff, smacking at his chest and rolling your eyes.

“Kidding, kidding,” he laughs. He grabs your hand when you go to hit him again. He tugs you closer for a playful kiss, nipping at your bottom lip. “Do you still want to meet Cho?”

“Are you sure he won’t bite off my hand?” you ask.

“I’m sure,” he replies confidently.

Hesitantly, you nod. “Okay then.”

Seungcheol smiles and leaves you with a kiss on the cheek. Like before, the dog greets Seungcheol as soon as the door opens. His tail is wagging, and his mouth is open as he breathes.

“Cherry wants to say hello,” he tells the dog, slowly guiding the animal closer to the bed. Your body is rigid, and you clutch the sheets to your chest. You just hope this isn’t going to be your end.

“Sit,” Seungcheol commands. You watch as Cho does so.

“Okay, hold out your hand, palm down. Yes, just like that. Breathe, baby, it’s okay,” Seungcheol instructs you softly. You glance away but quickly look back. Maybe you can pull your hand away quickly enough before he chomps.

The dog leans his head close, nose wiggling as he sniffs your hand. The few seconds it takes feels like half an hour. Suddenly, the dog’s tongue sticks out. The act coats your hand in slobber, and you screech as you tug your hand to your chest hastily, thinking he bit you.

“It’s okay, Cherry. You’re okay,” Seungcheol soothes you, sitting on the bed. He puts the dog between his legs as he rubs your arm softly. You pull your hand back, sighing with relief when you see it still intact.

“Cho just licked you,” Seungcheol explains.

“S-sorry,” you say, eyes searching for the dog. He sits staring up at Seungcheol with his tail wagging. The pet isn’t lunging at Seungcheol or nibbling off his flesh.

“It’s okay. You did good, baby,” Seungcheol praises, giving you a kiss on the cheek as a reward. “I’m going to take him out, okay?”

You place a hand on his arm. “Has he ever bit you?”

Seungcheol glances at Cho and shakes his head. He gives the pup a loving head rub. “He’s just a big baby. He’s well-behaved. He’s even good with kids.”

“Has he ever bit your brother?”

“I don’t believe so,” he replies.

You peer down at Cho once more. You’re still scared of him, but seeing how much he likes being around Seungcheol, you feel a little bad kicking him out again; especially, since he doesn’t have anybody out there to keep him company.

“H-he can stay if he doesn’t come close to me,” you say cautiously.

“He’ll be fine out, it’s okay,” Seungcheol reassures.

“I trust what you say about him. He seems… okay.”

Seungcheol grins, slowly letting the dog go before climbing into bed. “He is.”

The dog stands, shakes out his fur, and then does something that has you clutching onto Seungcheol. Cho jumps on the bed.

“Oh god, he’s going to eat me,” you cry. Seungcheol wraps an arm around your body, pulling you close. He rubs your arm tenderly.

“No, he’s not,” he laughs. You watch as the dog walks around himself once before plopping down. Luckily, he’s on Seungcheol’s side. Cho rests his head on the bed, watching you both. His tail wags a little, but not as much as before.

“He just wanted to sleep up here. Is that okay?” Seungcheol asks you.

“You let him up here?” you question, knowing some people don’t like their pets on their beds.

Seungcheol shrugs. “The covers are dirty anyway. Might as well let him have a comfy place to nap. Speaking of, do you want to stay the night?”

“That’d be nice,” you smile at him.

You reach for the purse you brought when you first ran from Cho. You tap on your phone to see it’s nearly four in the evening. You didn’t realize how long it’s been since you arrived at eleven.

“Unfortunately, I’m not the best cook, so we may have to do takeout,” Seungcheol says shyly.

You giggle, sending a quick message to your sister that you won’t be home tonight.

“I can cook,” you offer.

Seungcheol looks at you sadly, hand coming up to rub at his neck. “Actually, I only have ramen. I haven’t gotten groceries yet.”

“Oh. I like ramen,” you reply and put your phone down once Seoah replies. Your phone keeps buzzing as she tries to get more information from you, but you simply put the device on Do Not Disturb and place it back in your bag.

“I wanted to treat you to something better than ramen,” Seungcheol says. There’s a faint frown on his lips.

“I don’t mind,” you reassure. “Now, can we sleep a little longer?”

You carefully guide Seungcheol down until his back hits the mattress. After pulling the covers over the both of you, you snuggle against his body.

“I guess I don’t have a choice,” he chuckles as he lets you lay him down. He holds you close, eyes staring at the ceiling as he rubs your back.

“Hm.” You close your eyes, letting the gentle rise and fall of his chest hypnotize you.

“Baby?” Seungcheol asks. You’re on the verge of sleep, but you hum again to let him know you heard him.

“Will you go on a date with me?”

You smile, forcing your eyes open to peer at him. “Can I still wear the dress you got me?”

“You can wear whatever you want, Cherry.”

“Can I pick out an outfit for you, too?” you ask.

“While you have great fashion sense, I’m not sure—” he stops when you begin to plead with your eyes.

“Fuck,” he curses more to himself.

“Please, Cheol?” you ask, voice soft and lips pouting.

“You know I’ll eventually become immune to this, right?” he grumbles. 

The way he words it makes it seem like you’ll be around long enough for that possibility to occur. You nuzzle closer at the thought.  

“Maybe, but right now you’re not,” you smile wickedly. “What do you say?”

“Fine, alright,” he caves.

You lean up, giving him a big kiss as a thank you. He hums against your mouth. You feel his hands go south, but you quickly stop him.

“It’s sleepy time, not sexy time,” you scold light-heartedly when you pull away.

Seungcheol sighs dramatically but yields. “Hurry and sleep then.”

“You’re not going to run away, are you?” You narrow your eyes.

“Never,” Seungcheol smiles down at you.

Your gaze lingers on his eyes, quickly scanning his face. Finally, you let your mind wander freely. You let yourself indulge in how comfortable you feel around him. You don’t have to ignore those illusions you had produced, nor do you have to convince yourself that you only see him as a friend. You can fulfill those fantasies little by little. You don’t have to hide from your emotions. You already feel lighter at letting go of those conflicting thoughts.

Although Seungcheol jokes about keeping you around to clean, you wind up doing it without being asked. You suppose he knows you won’t be able to handle the clutter.

You’re picking up his discarded jeans when something flutters to the floor when you do so. You bend down to grab it.

It’s the receipt from earlier.

While Seungcheol is in the bathroom, you finally have the chance to examine it.

You notice the fabric store name, having only been there a few times since it isn’t local. Your eyes trail down to the item's name. Although it’s a shortened version of the name, you know what it is. 

That brat.

The sound of the bathroom door opening has your eyes snapping up and hand lowering to your side.

“Why did Jeonghan lie to me?” you ask him before he can take two full steps.

Seungcheol looks at you, head tilting and eyebrows knitting.

“What did he lie about?” he questions.

“He didn’t buy that fabric for me,” you scoff and hold out the receipt. “You did.”

Seungcheol’s gaze drops to the paper in your hand. He releases a small exhale.

“It’s not a big deal,” he replies.

“You always say that,” you huff. Your eyes fall back to the receipt, glancing at the price. That makes more sense as to how Jeonghan got it.

“Because it’s true,” he says. He moves to stand in front of you. He carefully takes the receipt from your hand. “I just wanted to give you something you wanted.”

“Why? How’d you even know?”

He folds the paper as he answers, “Dae mentioned it at dinner that one time and Jeonghan told me about it.”

“You didn’t answer the first part,” you call out.

He chuckles softly. “That’s because it should be obvious. It’s because I liked you… I still do.”

“You can like me without buying me expensive things,” you reason.

“I know,” he says. His eyes fall down to the sweater that you wear—it’s his. Your legs are bare and have ankle socks on. “But I still wanted to. So, deal with it, Cherry.”

He gives you a smile before walking away and into the living room. You follow, still weary of Cho and huddling against Seungcheol if he gets too close.

“Hey, wait, you didn’t tell me why Jeonghan lied to me.”

Seungcheol takes two glasses from a cabinet and then shuffles to the fridge. “I asked him to.”

“You? He didn’t steal it or something?” Although you know Jeonghan likes to con others, he isn’t one to steal. Yet, you still want to ask since the whole situation puzzles you.

He laughs, filling the cups with ice as he replies, “No, he’s not like that. I wanted you to have it before the show, but I knew you wouldn’t take it after our fight.”

“You let me think he got it for me,” you state; your lips begin to dip down as you ponder on the thought. 

You remember feeling so thankful to Jeonghan for getting it for you. There’s a pang of guilt knowing you were thanking the wrong person. You finally understand the look on Jeonghan’s face when he gifted it to you.

Seungcheol sets the glasses on the counter, grabbing your chin gently to make you look at him. His fingers are chilly, but they feel good against your warm skin.

“I’m just glad you used it, baby,” he says kindly. He lets go of your chin with a smile.

“Cheol,” you call, a hand reaching out for his bicep. He pauses in turning back to the fridge.

Once he is staring at you, you speak, “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry it wasn’t the blue you wanted. It was out of stock, and it would’ve taken too long to ship,” he explains.

You shake your head. “It was perfect. I liked the red more.”

Seungcheol smiles, though one side is lifted as if it’s a borderline smirk.

“I did too. Red looks good on you,” he compliments. One that takes you back to that cursed poetry lounge night. It was the first time he called you Cherry, and you called him Cheol. The first time you were alone with him for longer than fifteen minutes. The first time your body reacted in ways that went beyond the line of friendship.

“So I’ve been told,” you murmur.

“Have you?” he teases. “Whoever said that must be really smart.”

“Yeah, sure—” you begin, only to jump and knock into Seungcheol when Cho unexpectedly rubs his nose against your leg. 

Seungcheol’s laugh doesn’t drown out the sound of your thudding heart in your ears, but at least it offers some (annoying) comfort. Cho is going to take some getting used to.

previous chapter \\ series masterpost // the end

A/N: Although the series is over, I would love to continue writing this couple in the future! Please look forward to some bonus scenes... Perhaps from Cheol's POV? My ask box is open for any questions or comments about this series! Thank you for reading!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 😭 omg *trying not to freak out that it's over* (also wattpad says this fic's read time is 6 hours and 11 minutes LOLOLOLOL... nice 😅 but if you're a slow reader like me, that time is prob way more haha. this being said, ty for ur time while reading!)

For my “shy/silent” readers, I’ve created a feedback form where you can share your thoughts on my fics in a more anonymous and private way. ^-^

taglist: @iammisstora, @christinewithluv, @lithelust, @musingsofananxiouspotato, @yoozuku, @lockburn-castle, @mystikhal-blog, @oncloudvii23 (cant tag :c), @cheolcherries, @mingyublues, @maknae00, @morklee02, @kittyhui, @comounlunar(cant tag :c), @minhui896, @doom-fics

©️hongcherry // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.

[iamsosmaug]

Miraculous Fic Recs

Recently I've been complaining a lot on the internet how sucky the recent seasons of ML have been, and how much better the old fanfics are; I'm going to prove my point by sharing my tried-and-true rec list. Here we go.

Back To Us - Written in 2017, so some things are inaccurate. Basically Marinette, as Ladybug, kills Gabriel Agreste on accident by pushing him off the Eiffel Tower and Adrien moves to Milan. Seven years later Marinette is a rising fashion designer, her long-lost partner comes back seven years later but hot, and a new Hawkmoth shows up on the very day Adrien comes back. Suspicious. INCLUDES: Antihero!Chat. Alternate superhero names for Alya, Nino + there are only seven miraculouses which honestly I like a lot better than Ladybug just busting another one out whenever she feels like it. At one point, it was the longest fic in the fandom but now it's not even close. 446k. Requires an Ao3 account to read.

Second Chances- Again, written fairly early in the fandom. Adrien is a single dad and Alya volunteers Marinette to be his daughter's nanny - the premise sounds like it could turn out really weird but I promise it's not. Adorable adorable. INCLUDES: Past ChloexAdrien and MarinettexNathanael, and Adrien never went to school. Reverse best friends (Alya + Adrien, Mari + Nino). 105k.

Whose Woods These Are (I Think I Know) - Ladrien Cinderella AU. Super well-written in a kind of fairytale style. I honestly love this fic. 105k.

Spotty Connections - Adrienette texting fic (no miraculous AU, but does incorporate LadyNoir). Tikki & Plagg are M&A's cats. One of my favorites ever. 66k.

Film It - Adrien is a youtuber! Soon all of Twitter ships #adrienette. INCLUDES: Gabriel Agreste's A+ Parenting. Endgame Adrienette. Superheroes exist, but LB & CN aren't a huge part of this. Also worthy of note: #thatfoursome and a decent amount of Twitter formatting. This has pretty much everything I want in an Adrienette fic. 56k.

Chasing The C/h/atwalk - Project Runway AU. Marinette is a designer and Adrien... is her model. Shenanigans ensue. INCLUDES: Some LadyNoir, mostly after the identity reveal. #MarinetteInDenial. 100k. I love this fic.

Lucky Us - No Miraculous email AU. See Spotty Connections: LadyNoir incorporated without the actual superheroes. Fluff with a tiny bit of angst but still happy ending. 136k.

Secret Santa - fluff. Pure fluff; classic in the fandom. A bit cheesy and very outdated but very nice. Time for a reread. It has a sequel called New Year's Ball. 52k.

Être Majeur - horror, AU, fairly short, creepy and strange but really well-written. 24k. M for horror elements.

La Pucelle Et La Coccinelle - Absolute favorite. Explores Joan of Arc (Jeanne d'Arc in this story) with the Ladybug Miraculous. INCLUDES: Actual historical references, lore for the miraculouses, and a flashforward to the future at the end with Marinette. 38k. I have it printed out, I love it so much.

Pray For the Children You Lost Along the Way - Silent Hill AU (Emilie Anderson from the arcade game is Adrien's mom). It has been on hiatus since 2019, but is still worth a read because so many things tie together in a satisfying way. 86k. Rated M b/c of Silent Hill-type things.

Under Lock and Key - Huge classic also published on Wattpad. Author/artist collab with Maerynn & EdenDaphne - Maerynn passed away while the fic was being written and ED finished it. Very nice art by ED. I view this fic as the quintessential 2017 era Adrienette fic. Very sweet and fluffy. 34k.

Tripped at Fencing - Gabriel hits Adrien. INCLUDES: Gabriel Agreste's A+ Parenting. Accidental identity reveal (Marinette finds out first). Only 5k but a classic.

The Butterfly and Her Brother series (Generations Past and Future) - written c. 2016. Gabriel is NOT Hawkmoth; Gabriel is not a villian in the least so technically OOC. First couple are set in the 1990s, then a couple in ~2016 and the latest in like 2044. I haven't read the last one in the series but WHATHGAWAATG (Europe gets taken over), featuring the next gen of Agrestes, is really good as well. Many things are outdated/false as this was written based off of s1, but I honestly like this interpretation of the Miraculous much better than how the show does it. Mama Agreste's name is Adele (again, s1) and I quite like her character. I freaking LOVE this series. I have it downloaded to my phone and I reread it when I'm feeling sad. 340k in total, but the longest work in the series is about 166k. SO many kudos.

a fight that you were born to lose - "Adrien finds out that Gabriel is Hawkmoth, and Gabriel gets to bring his long-waited plan into action." TW abuse, emotional manipulation, forced dieting. Gabriel Agreste's A+ Parenting. Fairly short for how well-rounded it is - 17k.

An Impromptu Proposal - what it says on the tin. Reverse love square kinda: Ladynoir requited love bc Adrien never went to school. Includes identity reveal and Hawkmoth!Lila takedown. 33k.

On The Prowl - Criminal CN. Also on ffn.net. Good story and TOTALLY a classic, but also uses 'ravenette' and 'sapphire orbs' unironically. The writing is okay if a little melodramatic. 53k.

Chat Noir's White French Man Hit List For Feminist Purposes - pretty much what it says on the tin. Sentimonster!Adrien. 7.8k.

i think it's time i told you (i'm a fan of your universe) - ladynoir proposal. v v nice. Just 5k. Smidge of angst.

The Ladyblog Comment Section - what it says on the tin. 27k. Hilarity and crack.

spark - Tinder AU. Lots of Marichat. Angst with a happy ending. 49k. Slow burn w/ eventual identity reveal.

all dressed up and nowhere to go - No Miraculouses modern royalty AU - human Tikki and Plagg. Mostly DJWifi but a mild amount of adrienette and a smidge of chlogami. Includes arranged marriage Adrien x Alya but they don't end up together. "Twenty-five-year-old Marinette is a wedding dress designer, business blooming in her trusty shop, Ladybug Bridal. When the engagement of Prince Adrien Agreste and Ancient Princess Alya Césaire is announced, all she expects is an influx of work. What she gets instead is... a bit different." 35k.

tangled ribbons - Ao3. ballet/dance AU (no miraculous). Adrienette with some DJWifi and human Tikki & Plagg. "Marinette is a small studio dancer who wins a scholarship to a summer long ballet intensive. Adrien is a famous ballet dancer who would rather be at home than at said intensive. The end of the summer will bring about a showcase that could make Marinette's career, if she can ignore Chloé and focus on something other than Adrien." 82k. The slowest of burns.

Where timing is kind to us - Ao3. marichat discusses quantum physics. 4.3k. This is a beautiful one-shot with a one-sided reveal.

[misc-obeyme]

Hello, this is the anon about the Lucifer starting the Apocalypse or end of times. I dont really mind it being angsty.

So a bit of background: Nightbringer sends MC to the not distant future back in their own timeline with a message "be patient, a messenger will come.. you choose to save the brothers or the human race."

MC starts noticing the 4 horsemen, and thunderstorms, firey skies, etc. A knock on the door and stands Simeon with a message about The Devil is coming, and only MC can Stop Lucifer or Michael will have to stop them, meaning the world will perish, and God has turned his back on humanity.

MC choice could be to save both

The story is more like avengers type style or anything you like. The characrers if you want to be included could be Lucifer, Satan, Simeon. Gabriel (if you want), Mammon, or Solomon.

Hi there, anon!

Oof okay this is by far the longest request I've ever written. But there was so much happening, it needed to be longer in order for things to get resolved in a way that made sense to me.

I tried to incorporate everything that was in your ask - so Nightbringer is involved, Simeon, and all the other characters listed. I didn't describe Michael or Gabriel so people can imagine them however they like.

I also thought it made the most sense for this to happen in the human world, so the setting is actually Serenity Manor. In case anybody hasn't gotten to season 3 of the OG, it's just a big house basically and the brothers give it to MC when they leave the human world.

I've only ever seen the first Avengers movie and that was a long time ago, so I don't think this turned out to be in that style at all. Hopefully it still turned out okay?

Anyway, I hope this is close to what you were looking for.

Thanks for the request!

GN!MC has to stop the apocalypse as begun by Lucifer

Warnings: general apocalyptic stuff (such as the four horsemen), fighting (with magic), angst, drama, spoilers for season 4 of the OG story, Nightbringer time travel shenanigans

You woke up to find yourself in Serenity Manor, back in the human world. That was odd. Didn't you go to bed in Cocytus Hall last night? What were you doing here in the human world? How did you get here?

You sat up in bed, looking around the room, trying to figure out what had happened. All of your things were here, too. Everything seemed completely normal. And yet you knew something wasn't right.

And then your D.D.D., which was sitting on the bedside table, dinged.

You picked it up and found a message there.

UNREGISTERED Hello.

You groaned to yourself before responding. There was no doubt that this was Nightbringer's doing. What did he want with you now? Why send you back to the human world?

MC What did you do? Where am I?

UNREGISTERED You are in the human world. I have sent you back to your time, though a little bit into the future. Something has changed and your presence is needed here.

MC What are you talking about? Who are you?

UNREGISTERED Be patient. A messenger will come and you will need to choose. Save the brothers or save the human race. I look forward to seeing what decision you make.

You put down your D.D.D. What did this mean? Save the brothers or the human race? Why did you have to choose?

You tried to contact any of the brothers through your D.D.D., but got no response. You tried calling and texting, but there was nothing. You checked Devilgram, but there were no new posts from anybody. You called Diavolo, Barbatos, Simeon - anyone you could think of. But there was no response from anyone.

What was happening in the Devildom?

Nightbringer had said to be patient, but how could you be?

You got out of bed and got dressed. You found the kitchen fully stocked and ate some breakfast. Then you prepared yourself to teleport back to the Devildom. If they wouldn't respond, you would just go find out what was happening for yourself.

You prepared the spell, spoke the words aloud, there was a flash of light and then...

...you were still in the kitchen of Serenity Manor.

Your spell hadn't worked. You frowned. This was not good.

You couldn't just sit around in the house while things were like this, so you left through the front door.

You immediately noticed the dark skies - thick grey clouds with red edges, almost like they were about to burst into flames.

You walked out into the town and found people, but they all had their heads down. Some of them were fighting, yelling or getting into fist fights. People were running around and a lot of them looked scared. You tried to talk to someone, anyone, but nobody would acknowledge you. They just rushed right past.

And then, seemingly out of nowhere, four beings came down the street. Time seemed to freeze as they went past in slow motion - four enormous horses ridden by four ghastly creatures shrouded in mist and shadow. Each horse a different color, each rider slightly different, but all absolutely terrifying. You felt a chill run down your spine as they went by.

You considered what you were seeing. Looking up, you saw the skies had turned ever more red, just another symbol of the darkness you knew was about to come. The people around you were in continual conflict and you were fairly certain you just saw the four horsemen ride down the street.

This was the beginning of the apocalypse.

You rushed back to Serenity Manor. You sat and tried your D.D.D. again, desperately calling and texting everyone and anyone. You mentally begged someone to respond.

You were pulled out of this endeavor by a knock on the door. You practically ran to the door, flinging it open to reveal Simeon standing there.

"Simeon!" you cried out, pulling him inside and shutting the door. You turned to him, clinging onto his hands. "What's going on? Nobody will return my texts or calls! It looks like the end times outside! Nightbringer sent me here and told me I would have to choose - what's happening?"

Simeon was frowning. "I have a message," he said. "I'm here to tell you that you're the only one who can stop Lucifer. If you don't, Michael will have to and then the world will perish as God has turned his back on humanity."

You stared at him in shock. "Where is Lucifer?"

Simeon rubbed at the back of his neck. "I'm sorry, MC. The Devildom is in chaos. I don't think your calls or texts are getting through to anyone. It's just that you disappeared and Lucifer… "

"I can't get back to the Devildom," you said. "I tried to teleport there, but it didn't work for some reason. How can I stop Lucifer if I can't even reach him?"

"Nobody can go in or out of the Devildom right now. But it doesn't matter. He isn't there anymore," Simeon said.

You were about to ask what this meant when there was another knock on the door.

You whirled, opening the door to reveal Satan, Mammon, and Solomon.

You ushered them inside, then glanced outside at the sky which now seemed to be completely on fire before closing the door.

You turned to them. You were relieved to see them, even if they looked grim. "Where is everybody else?" you asked.

"It's a mess, MC," Solomon said. "Lucifer is out there -" he waved vaguely toward the front door "- tearing the human world apart looking for you. Diavolo and Barbatos tried to stop him, but he anticipated that. He's used some sort of spell to put them to sleep. Leviathan and Asmodeus are trying to stop him. Beelzebub and Belphegor are trying to wake up Diavolo. And we came to look for you."

"He's lost his mind, MC," Mammon said. He and Satan were both in demon form, seemingly on high alert because of the chaos happening outside. "I tried talkin' to him, but it's like he's not even there anymore."

"I also attempted to speak with him," Satan said. He was angry, evident by the expression on his face, but he was trying to keep it inside. "And then I tried to use magic to stop him, but he's too powerful."

"You're the only one who might be able to reach him," Solomon said. "If you don't, it could mean the end of everything."

You turned away from them for a moment, taking in everything they had just told you. Lucifer was out there, destroying everything. It didn't make sense. He wouldn't go against Diavolo like that, would he? Not over this.

"I don't understand," you said quietly. "Are you sure this is about me?"

There was an odd light in the room suddenly, which trembled for a moment before resolving into an angel you had never seen before.

Almost everybody else recognized him, though.

"Gabriel?" Simeon asked.

The angel looked around at those gathered in the room. "Simeon," he said. "Mammon, Solomon, it's good to see you all again. And you two must be Satan and MC. I've heard plenty about you as well."

"What are ya doin' here?" Mammon asked. He didn't seem upset, but he did seem perplexed.

Gabriel looked around at them. "Ah, yes, you see, I'm here to tell you that you should not interfere with Lucifer and the apocalypse."

"You can't be serious," Solomon said. "You really expect us to just stand by and let this happen?"

Gabriel looked at him seriously. "The fact is, this is how things are supposed to go. You all seem to think that Lucifer is doing this because he let his emotions get the better of him. But actually, Lucifer is doing this because this is as it is written. He is meant to start the apocalypse. If you intervene, you will be upsetting Father's plans. Leave this to Michael. It is for him to resolve. Stay out of it."

You could feel an unexpected anger welling up inside of you. This was the message from the Celestial Realm? That you should just sit back and let their plans go forward, resulting in the destruction of your home and likely everyone you've come to care about? You couldn't just let this happen. You couldn't watch that unfold. You couldn't allow Lucifer to be used as a catalyst for the end.

And you were done waiting around.

"You can go back to the Celestial Realm and tell them to kiss my ass," you said, turning around and marching out the front door.

The others rushed to catch up to you, Mammon reaching your side first. "MC! What're ya gonna do?"

"I'm going to stop this!" you said. You stood out in the street, looking up at the sky. You gathered all your energy, every ounce of magic you could muster.

Then you took a deep breath and said into the howling wind, "Hear me, and heed my call. In the name of the sorcerer MC, I draw upon my pact with the ring of light. Come forth, Lucifer!"

The wind, which had kicked up tremendously in the time you were inside the manor, became even more wild. The sky split with red lightning and the world became dark momentarily.

There was an aura of shadow concentrated in one spot in front of you. As you watched, Lucifer materialized from out of it.

He was in demon form. His eyes were fully red and glowing ominously. But they were also empty. They seemed to look right through you.

"Who would dare to summon me?" he asked. It was Lucifer's voice, but it was devoid of any real emotion. He didn't yell. He spoke in a normal tone, but it was flat.

The sound of his voice and the look in his eyes caused you to shiver. But you stood your ground.

"Lucifer, you need to stop," you said. You let your voice match his tone - not yelling, just speaking normally. Behind you, you could feel the presence of Mammon, Satan, Solomon, and Simeon - a network of support. You weren't sure what had happened to Gabriel.

"And why should I listen to a human like you?" he asked.

"I think ya should use stay on him," Mammon said from behind you.

"I think that would be a terrible choice," Satan said.

"Be quiet, you two," Solomon said. "Let MC handle this."

You were prepared to continue trying to talk Lucifer out of destroying the human world, but you didn't have the chance. The light that had appeared in the house before manifested again now, this time resolving into two angels. One was Gabriel, but the other one…

"Michael," Lucifer said dully.

Lucifer raised a hand and suddenly all of the avatars of sin appeared. Mammon and Satan no longer stood behind you, now having been dragged to Lucifer's side. Every other brother was there, too, lined up on either side of Lucifer. Some of them blinked dazedly as they were confused about where they were now. But as they realized what was happening, every single one shifted into demon form.

"This is the end of the human world, as it was meant to be," Michael said. "These seven demons must be destroyed. In the process, all of humanity will be lost. Prepare yourselves."

"No!" you yelled, launching yourself at Michael.

Solomon caught hold of you and held you back. "MC, you won't win this fight!"

"I don't care!" you yelled. "I can't let him do this! I can't let him destroy the human world, I can't let him destroy Lucifer and his brothers! I love them!"

"If you try to get in the way now, you'll die for sure and then everything else will get destroyed anyway," Solomon said, his arms squeezing tightly around your waist.

You turned around in his hold to face him. "Then help me!" you cried. "Together, aren't we strong enough?"

Solomon looked into your eyes and saw the determination there. He knew he wouldn't be able to talk you out of this. And he also knew that he couldn't just leave you to do it alone.

Solomon nodded and let you go. "All right," he said. "You have pacts with all of them. Use that. I'll back you up."

You turned back to the demon brothers. All of them now seemed to be under whatever was influencing Lucifer. They all had that dull look in their eyes - as though nobody was home.

Michael was gathering power. He seemed to be glowing brightly with light that was as blinding as the sun.

You had to stop this and it was your last chance. You muttered, "Hear me and heed my call…"

You weren't sure what you were doing, but you could feel the pacts inside you. You reached for that connection, though they all felt far away. You grasped them in your mind, in your heart. And you felt the magic explode from you, rushing through the pacts, filling the air around you.

The ring of light began to glow. At your side, something else seemed to be glowing. You glanced over and saw that Solomon's ring was also glowing and he was feeding magic into you.

Overhead, the skies trembled. The clouds remained dark red. The wind continued to blow through everything at high speeds.

And then everything paused. There was a stillness as the wind instantly died. The magic remained frozen. Everyone was as a statue.

And there was an entity before you, but you couldn't see who it was. They were too blurry for you to make out.

"Are you choosing the brothers, then?" the being asked.

Somehow, you knew it was Nightbringer. "What? No, I want to save both!"

"Right now, that is not a choice," Nightbringer said. "If you save the brothers, the world will still be destroyed. If you destroy the brothers, the world will survive. If Michael destroys the brothers, the world will be destroyed in the crossfire."

"No," you said. "There has to be another choice!"

Nightbringer laughed. "You are so much like your teacher. Always trying to find another option when there isn't one."

"Maybe you're just too narrow minded to see all the possibilities," you said.

"Very well," Nightbringer said. "You're about to send Michael and Gabriel back to the Celestial Realm, effectively removing them from this fight. What happens after that is up to you."

As time began again, you could feel the power of the pacts and the rings running through you once again. And just as they had done once before, the gates to the Celestial Realm were opened. With a mighty push of your magic, you managed to shove Michael and Gabriel back through them before slamming them shut.

You felt yourself wobble as the magic died down. You took one step and fell, but found yourself in Simeon's arms. Solomon stood in front of the two of you, facing the brothers.

Every brother was still in demon form and all of them still had that empty look in their eyes.

"Foolish human," Lucifer said. "Now that you have removed my greatest obstacle, the world is doomed. As it was written, so it shall be."

You cried out, but you were too weak to move from Simeon's arms. "Lucifer, please! I know you're in there! I know all of you are in there still! If ever any of you loved me, please… please…"

Your voice was fading as you were losing your strength. Solomon's hands were balled into fists as he stood in front of you and Simeon. You could see little sparks of magic around him. It wouldn't be long before he, too, would be too weak to continue. He glanced back at you. "MC… won't you choose humanity…?"

You bit your lip. "I will if I have to," you managed to say. "But let me at least try to reach them first."

Simeon's grip on you tightened. You were sure he wanted to do more, but now that he was human, he could do nothing but hold you.

"Lucifer," Simeon said. "You rebelled against Father once before when you believed his decision was wrong. I know you don't want to do this. Why wouldn't you defy him again?"

"Simeon…" you said weakly, amazed that the former angel would say something like that.

And yet, these words seemed to reach Lucifer. He looked at Simeon, really looked at him.

"I don't think this is what Lilith would want," Simeon said firmly.

And as you watched, there was a spark in Lucifer's eyes. A glimmer of something that used to be there.

You felt some little strength return to your limbs. You turned to Simeon and said, "Please help me up."

Simeon stood, pulling you up with him. Your legs were shaky, but after a moment you were able to let go of Simeon and take a few steps forward.

There was a dark aura still around Lucifer. The other brothers appeared to be in a trance, unmoving, unseeing, still in demon form.

You stumbled past Solomon, who called your name, but didn't stop you.

You reached out and touched Lucifer's cheek. "You always tried to make me think that I was the one who belonged to you. But deep down, Lucifer, you know that you are mine."

You watched as recognition seemed to flare in Lucifer's eyes. You hoped this reference to things he said when you made your pact with him would remind him of just who you were. Who he was.

"MC…" he said, voice uncertain.

"I know you're in there, Lucifer," you said. "Come back to me. Please."

And that was all it took. No magic, no bright light, no dramatic auras. Just a few words spoken with all of your heart. You watched as he seemed to come back to himself. The glowing red of his eyes faded away until you were looking once again at the familiar ruby and black. Nearby, you could see the other brothers shaking their heads, as though coming out of their trance.

Relief flooded through you. Your muscles gave up and you felt your knees buckle. You would have fallen to the ground, but Lucifer caught you. He pressed you to himself, cradling you carefully but tightly.

"MC," he said into your hair. "What have I done…?"

"Don't worry about that now," you said, your voice low as your strength continued to drain away. "Please, can we just go home?"

You would fall asleep in Lucifer's arms. When you woke much later, you would find out that the Celestial Realm was not happy with this turn of events. But you would be in the Devildom again, in the House of Lamentation, with the brothers all looking after you. And it would take some time to fix the damage that had been done by this event. But with the brothers beside you, not to mention everybody else, you knew that you would be able to make things right again. Assuming, of course, that Nightbringer didn't plan on sending you through time yet again.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[linahopeeeee]

Hi babes❤️ since your request are open I was wondering if you could do one where Todoroki forgot about your anniversary dinner even after you worked so hard to make everything perfect but he makes it up to you later that night if you know what I mean😜😜👀

ღ Pairing: Shoto Todoroki x reader

ღ Words: 1400

ღ Notes: first of all i truly apologize for this taking so fucking long😢 but here it is, and hopefully you dont hate it. i also think this is the longest request i've ever written so please let me know if you enjoyed it!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

9:30

Your eyes glance over at the clock once again, shoto was supposed to be home hours ago so that the two of you could spend your anniversary together.

Your eyes move down to the phone on the table as, yet another text message goes unread, your calls all being sent straight to voicemail.

And at first you were worried, thinking that maybe something had happened and shoto was injured, but then a notification on your phone told you that that was most definitely not the case.

No, why you were at home working so hard to make sure you and your boyfriend’s anniversary was perfect, he was instead hanging out with Izuku, doing what ever the fuck it is they do on their own time.

A sigh leaves your parted lips, eyes watering before you force yourself to blink away the tears. You are not going to cry.

No, what you are going to do is put all of the food away, and then take off that uncomfortable ass dress that you put on in order to make this night feel special, then you’re going to take off your makeup and throw on your favorite pair of shorts and one of Shoto’s hoodies and you're going to eat an entire tub of ice cream while watching shitty reality shows.

An hour later and you’re halfway through the list when you hear the sound of your front door opening and closing, the sound of shoto’s footsteps get closer and closer as you take off the last remaining makeup, throwing the used wipes into the trash. You look through your makeup bag for your favorite lip balm, applying a bit to your lips.

Your force yourself to not look towards the door, knowing Shoto is there watching you, as you grab your phone and start carelessly scrolling through your socials.

You’re completely still as Shoto wraps his arms around you from the back “I’m so sorry” he mumbles against your head

His apology goes ignored as you stand and walk out the door, determined to finish your list, you head to the kitchen, taking the ice cream from the freezer and grabbing a spoon before flopping down on the couch.

The couch dips under shoto’s weight, and you can feel his eyes on you, burning holes into the side of your head but you just ignore him, turning the volume on the tv up louder incase he tried to talk to you again.

“I’m sorry” he tries again, moving closer to you. He takes your face in his hands, gently turning your head so that you’re facing him. “baby, I know you’re upset, and you have every right to be but I’m going to make it up to you. I promise” he tells you before releasing your face and standing from the couch.

You watch as walks away, going into your bedroom. He’s in there for a couple of minutes before the door is being pulled open and he’s standing in front of you, this time with a bag in his hand.

“I know this doesn’t make up for me missing our anniversary but I really am sorry” he says holding the bag out for you. You eye it for a few moments before your hand is reaching out for it.

You can’t help but gasp as you stare down at the piece of jewelry in front of you, the same diamond bracelet that you couldn’t take your eyes away from at the mall sits on your lap.

You didn’t even think he was paying that much attention that day at the mall, every time you looked over at him, he seemed to be engrossed on his phone.

“thank you sho, I love it” you say sitting the box down on the table before throwing your arms around his neck, pushing your lips into his. He kisses you back instantly, tongue swiping over your bottom lip.

“I want you” you whisper against his lips, and he groans, hands finding your thighs and your quick to jump into his arms, legs wrapping around his waist as he carries you towards your bedroom.

He gently places you on the bed, quickly taking his shirt off before crawling in between your legs, lips back on yours as he fingers sneak under your hoodie.

“take this off” he mumbles against your lips as he tugs at the bottom of the hoodie, he helps you pull it over your head, throwing it off somewhere to the side.

He’s surprised to find your chest completely bare, your nipples hardening as the cool air hits them. “fuck I love you” he tells you before taking one of your nipples into his mouth, tongue swirling around it for a couple of seconds before taking it into his mouth and sucking on it.

He releases it with a small pop before moving to the other one, hand palming himself through his shorts, trying to give his aching member some sort of relief because he knows he’s going make you cum multiple times before he even thinks about cumming himself.

“wanna taste you” he says as he pulls your shorts down your legs, your legs instantly parting as he takes you in.

Your folds puffy and glistening with slick, clit peeking out, just begging for attention.

One swipe of his tongue through your folds leave him desperate for more, your arousal coating his tongue and he’s quick to swallow it down. “fuck you taste so good” he mumbles against your pussy, the vibrations causing you to moan loudly “you always taste so sweet for me baby”

The words force a whine from you, hips rolling as you grind yourself further into his face, coating him in your slick.

You can feel the familiar tightening in your stomach, as shoto moves from your clit down to your hole, tongue prodding at your entrance as more slick continues to pour out of you.

“ ‘m cumming” you whine out as you fall over the edge, shoto helps you through your orgasm, slurping up all of you, making sure not to waste a single drop.

Shoto doesn’t stop, even after you’ve came, tongue continues to swirl around your clit as you try to push his head away from your sensitive pussy. You fail miserably, both of your hands are being pushed away from Shoto’s hair.

Two of shoto’s fingers are being pushed through your walls, curling instantly as you let out a strangled groan as he finds that spot within you that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head, tongue poking out to wet your dry lips.

Two fingers turn into three as he fingers you open, getting you ready to take his dick.

Your second high hits you like a ton of bricks, it leaves your legs shaking, heart pounding in your chest.

You’re a whining, whimpering mess by the time shoto finally finishes licking you clean, you can barely keep your eyes open and your body feels gross and sticky with sweat.

But you don’t care

All you care about is getting sho inside of you as quickly as possible. The need to feel him stretching you out is all you can think about as your run your hands through his hair and pulling his lips down to yours, moaning as you taste yourself on his lips.

You’re not sure when he took of his pants and you don’t really give a fuck when he runs the tip against your folds, gathering up the slick that’s already began to gather at the thought of shoto stuffing you full of his cock.

He pushes in slowly, the two of you moaning together as he stretches you out, the feeling of him filling you up inch by inch.

You already feel yourself getting close and he’s barely even started thrusting yet, walls clenching down around him

“fuck, if you keep clenching down on me like that I wont last long” he hisses out, rolling his hips against yours, eyes glued to where your bodies meet, where your sucking him in so tightly.

He pulls out, leaving just the tip in before he slams his hips back into yours, quickly picking up the pace as he fucks himself into you, loving the way you cry out for him.

Its like his name is the only word you know, as you repeatedly moan it out.

“Sho! Sho!” you cry out as he angles his hips up and hits that spot, all it takes is his thumb rubbing circles on your clit.

The feeling of you cumming around him, walls tightening around him is all shoto needs, with two more thrusts he’s emptying himself deep in your walls.

He doesn’t pull out right away, instead choosing to leave kisses along your neck and jaw, still muttering out apologies for missing your anniversary and promising that tomorrow the two of you will have the entire day to do whatever you want.

its hours later when you and Shoto as cuddled together in bed, limbs tangled together when you remember that you never put your ice cream back into the freezer.