#and it’d be useful in the long run to communicate with others

[freddy-owo]

Headcanon that rui is partially deaf, and whenever wxs has sleepovers he and emu (who knows sign because her grandpa was deaf) just stay up all night talking to eachother =]

[featherandferns]

sugar (fic)

ex!jj maybank x ex!fem!reader | set in season 4 without the Blackbeard mystery! (non-canon) | inspiration

content warnings: mentions of/references to sex (m and f receiving; MDNI); drug use; unfaithful relationships

word count: 18k.

blurb: JJ comes back into your life - older, richer and different again from before. Can the past stay the past, and the two of you be friends, or is there too much history there to let it all lie?

Cinnamon Buns

“Where would you like these?” Someone calls out to you. You turn and take in the tray of mouth-wateringly delicious looking cinnamon buns that a volunteer holds. Smiling, you point to a far table on the grassy field. 

“Anywhere over there is good! Those look amazing, thank you so much!” 

You turn back to the task at hand: organising cans of tinned, chopped tomatoes. To your left is a stack of bags of rice and to your right, bags of pasta. It’s quick work as you separate them by flavour: garlic and herb; chilli; regular…In the background you overhear chatter of fellow volunteers. Where should I put this? Who had the plastic bags? This was your happy place. 

‘The Stirring Spoon’ is what you had called it. It was your passion project born out of daydreams. A collaborative, community effort, providing food to anybody and everybody, free of charge. It wasn’t a traditional food drive. Instead, it was like a potluck dinner that you hosted every Wednesday in the late afternoon, running into the evening. People brought whatever dish they had prepared, or any ingredients that they had going spare which you and a handful of other volunteers whipped up into mains and desserts. Tomato soup and lentil curry and meatball subs and rainbow brownies and chocolate chip cookies. You’d even managed to rope a few local establishments into it. Any leftover bakes that they had when the workday was over, or things that were just a smidge out of date by a day or two, you took and offered out. Today? Cinnamon buns that were baked yesterday at a humble cafe in the town centre, just shy of Figure Eight. Food health and safety laws were strict but you could stretch them for The Stirring Spoon. After all, you weren’t technically selling a product so no harm done. People were clued in about the supposed “risk”. 

You lift up a can of tomatoes and study the ‘best by’ date on the metal lid. A month in the safe zone. Perfect. As your mind flicks through recipes of what you could cook up, a voice stood out amongst the chatter nearby. It was like a siren’s call; distinct and damning. You could pick it out even when deaf. 

“I gotta delivery here for y’all.”

“What’s in it?”

“Fresh sorta stuff. ‘Tatoes and that kinda thing.”

“Over there, I’d say.”

As the footsteps approach you can feel your heartbeat quicken. It taps nervously in your ribcage like you’re sixteen all over again. Your focus remains on the task at hand until a slight shadow casts over you, and you know you can’t stall any longer.  Your hands freeze over a can of tomatoes. Looking up, standing in front of you, clear as daylight and bright as dawn, is JJ Maybank. He’s dressed in his usual attire of a worn-down t-shirt and shorts; his fingers and wrists decorated with metal rings and beaded bracelets. If you squinted, it’d be like no time had passed at all. He doesn’t look all that different from the last time you saw him and yet, he’s entirely changed. In his hands is a large cardboard crate of various fresh produce. You smile. 

“JJ.”

It comes out in a breath as though you’re seeing something supernatural before you. In a way, you are. How long has it been now? Two years? Nearly three?

His own surprise mirrors yours on his face. But JJ was always better at hiding his emotions, once he had a chance to catch them. It was like a teasing glimpse before he closed the curtains. His recovery is quick as a smile starts to show, and he says your name like he’s practised it everyday. 

“Hey.”

“What’re you doing here?” you ask.

“Brought some deliveries,” JJ says, hitching the box. “Kiara mentioned something ‘bout a community kitchen drive y’all do and we thought we could contribute and stuff.”

“Well, that’s nice of y’all. Thank you,” you reply. 

You shuffle some stuff out of the way on the pop-up table in front of you to make space for JJ’s box. It’s hard not to watch his arms as he lowers it down, the way the biceps flex and tense beneath the skin. It’s hard not to think of other times his arms have looked that way, wrapped around your body, tugging you closer. You blink the memories away. 

JJ’s hands slot into his short pockets. He rocks on his feet. “Looks like it’s a pretty popular thing, huh?v This food drive, I mean.”

You glance around at the bustling volunteers. Smiling, you say, “Yeah, I guess it caught on pretty quick. Could say the same about y’alls tackle-and-bait shop you got going. It’s the talk of the town ‘round here.”

JJ grins with visible pride and it isn’t until you see it that you realise how much you missed his smile. You wonder if he’s surveying your face and body the way you are his, as if looking for some inconsistency or change since the last time you saw him. 

“Yeah, it’s coming together pretty nice. Helps having a bunch of us working on it, though.”

“I bet,” you say. You’d heard the chatter on the island about the Pogue’s latest venture. The sneers of the kooks and the curiosity of the locals. Their bets and wagers on whether the business would sink or float. You’d wanted to wander down and check it out for yourself but you always chickened out. Truth was, you’d been avoiding JJ Maybank like the flu, and now here he was in front of you, putting all your quarantining to shame. Your eyes flit down at the crate and you gently rifle through the food for a distraction. Tomatoes and potatoes and bunches of fresh berries and fruit. 

“I, uh, don’t know if there’s much in there that y’all need but–”

“No, no, this is great,” you assure him, smiling. “It’s really generous of y’all. Every contribution is appreciated.”

“Happy to help. To be honest, it’s Kie and Sarah you should be thanking.”

“Yeah, I didn’t peg you as the gardening type,” you tease. 

“Well, only for the stuff that matters,” JJ grins with a wink. You consciously try to fight away the warmth running to your cheeks. Damn it, you weren’t sixteen anymore. “So…how have you been, then? Since we last…y’know–”

“Baby!”

It’s a reflex reaction to turn at the sound of Mark’s call. He comes bounding over with a wide grin. His shirt sleeves are rolled up to the elbows and flour is dusted on his khakis. It’s a reflex to close your eyes when he dips his head to plant a kiss to your lips, too. You rub them together after as you prepare yourself for what might be the most awkward interaction you’ll ever go through. 

“JJ,” you say, turning to the blonde haired boy. “This is Mark. Mark, this is JJ. We used to…uh…Well, we used to hang out.”

“JJ - pleasure,” Mark says sincerely. He sticks out his hand and for a painful moment you genuinely worry that JJ might never take it. But he does, shaking it. 

“Likewise,” he says. 

You feel Mark’s spare arm slide around your back, his palm placing itself respectfully on your side. That was Mark: respectful. Righteous but not in an arrogant way. He was kind and caring without judgement, like the sort of Christian boy your nana would want you to bring home. The sort of guy who would bring your mother flowers and play golf with your father on the weekends. The kind of face you’d see flash on the television during the six o’clock news as the reporter relays a daring and heroic tale of saving orphaned kittens from a burning tree. 

“This is the guy that’s started the tackle-and-bait shop. Y’know, the one with the surf store and stuff,” you say to Mark. Realisation dawns upon Mark and he wags his finger at JJ. 

“Wait, wait, JJ as in JJ Maybank? One of the gang who found El Dorado?” 

You roll your eyes at the pure awe in his voice. JJ chuckles somewhat nervously and nods as he says, “yeah, uh, that JJ, I guess.”

“Holy shit! Baby, why didn’t you say!? Oh man, I read all about that. It sounded freaking incredible! I have so much to ask you, I mean-”

You place a hand to his chest and laugh, slightly embarrassed by his fangirling. “Baby, baby! Cool it a second, yeah?”

Laughing, you glance at JJ. And you catch it. That emotion he lets slip just before correcting himself. His eyes dart to yours in a second but they were looking elsewhere before. They were looking at your hand on Mark’s stomach. 

“Nah man, it’s cool. You guys should stop by sometime and I can tell you all about it. The other Pogues too, yeah,” JJ cordially replies. 

“Oh sick, man. That’d be great,” Mark beams. You smile at JJ and nod. 

“I’d love to see what you guys have done to the place,” you tell him. JJ smiles but it falters, like a flickering lightbulb that’s fighting to stay on. An awkward quiet passes and you clear your throat and glance around at the voluntary effort. “Well, I should probably get back to work.”

“No, yeah, course. I ought’a get back to the shop,” JJ replies. 

“Thanks for the stuff though. We really appreciate it.”

“You brought this?” Mark wonders, picking a strawberry out of the crate. He pops it in his mouth and hums happily. “Damn, those are some fresh strawberries.”

“Yeah, man. All from our local garden we got going.”

“This place sounds like the dream,” Mark tells you. You smile up at him. He takes the crate in his broad hands and lifts it easily into the air. Being sandwiched between two toned-up guys had you feeling as brittle as candyfloss. “I’ll take this over to Nancy. Nice meeting you, JJ.”

“Yeah, you too, man.”

You watch him wander off a moment before turning back to JJ. He offers you another smile. “I’ll come check out the shop soon,” you promise. 

JJ points at you, playfully warning, “you better!” before walking away. You watch him with every step he takes and the moment he’s out of sight your head drops. You let out a breath that you didn’t know you’d been holding. Your entire body feels as though it’s vibrating; your heart running laps in your ribcage. And the funniest part of all is the strange thought that races around your mind, he’s real. It had been so long since you’d seen JJ, let alone heard from him, that it felt like a daydream. The memories were so hazy now that they’d been painted over in sepia and you wondered if you’d imagined the whole thing. But no, here he was, knowing you and recognising you, and talking to you. The two of you back in Kildare, seemingly for good. 

“Baby! Can you give us a hand?”

The call drags you out of your thoughts. Your eyes fall onto your boyfriend. He stands a good head taller than most people. He’s almost lanky in build but not ungainly; broad shouldered and slim nosed. His eyes are those of an otter: nearly black with how brown they are; beady and shining, even from over here. There’s a smattering of freckles over his cheeks which is adorably boyish in contrast to his stubble on the jawline. He’s smiling at you in a way that all girls want to be smiled at. Unashamed in his admiration for you. It grounds you from the dizzying interaction with JJ and you walk over to him, ready to help out in any way you can. 

The rest of The Stirring Spoon passes without a hitch or unexpected visitor from the past. It’s as popular as always, with locals and tourists stopping by. The lentil and tomato soup that you whipped up disappears within the first half hour, alongside the nearly stale but still delicious cheese bread. Mark stands by your side the whole time, smiling as he serves. He whispers little jokes in your ear that have you giggling in the quiet periods of the food drive. Then came the evening rush, with people stopping by after work. The culmination of it all meant JJ was pushed out of your thoughts and back into the long-term store, where he’d been haunting before. That is, until you’re tidying up. 

“That JJ guy seemed nice,” Mark says from the table to your right. You look up from the plastic snack-bags you’re tidying away. “You said you guys used to hang?”

“When we were sixteen,” you reply. 

“How come you stopped hanging out?” he wonders. 

You look down at the bags and obsess over the colours of the labels as you debate how best to word your reply. What do you divulge to him? There’s an index of memories labelled JJ and you know not all need to see the light of day, let alone enter the mind of your boyfriend in scarring reenactments. 

“We just grew apart. He was going through some stuff, I think, and then he got really into that whole treasure hunting thing,” you tell him. It was true enough to not be a lie. Mark hums in thought. 

“That’s a shame.”

You quirk a brow, amused. “Why? Cause I could have cashed in on the gold too?”

Mark shrugs and you laugh. “What!? I’m just saying, some people are worth staying friends with!”

But that was the thing. You and JJ weren’t just friends. Shaking your head, you close the cardboard box of repacked snack-bags and carry it over to the table where he’s working. You held him wrap individual muffins in napkins before placing them in a large tupperware box. 

“Hey, y’know what’d be nice?” Mark says. 

“What?”

“If we took them over some leftovers. I mean, we made most of this stuff with the ingredients they gave us anyway. And there’s still some of those cinnamon buns going spare.”

You take pause and look up at him. He’s obliviously working away, head tucked down to look at the muffins. There’s an easy smile that’s permanently etched into his face, as if he came out the womb cheesing away. That wasn’t why you fell for him though. No, it was his kindness. His offhand generosity that came so naturally to him it was almost offensive. Pressing up onto your toes, you cup his jaw and press a kiss to his cheek. He chuckles quietly. 

“You’re wonderful,” you hum happily. “I think that’s a great idea.” 

“You go wrap up some cinnamon buns then. I’ll pack up some of these muffins for them.”

You do as he asks and soon enough, there’s a box of miscellaneous leftovers from your food drive. Mark drives. The sky is a delicate colour of amber and pink warning of soon nightfall. Colours like that always make you feel relaxed. It helps ease the nervousness of seeing JJ again. You weren’t sure why it was making you so antsy. It wasn’t as if you and JJ parted ways on bad terms. You suppose it’s just a bitter-sweet memory. All memories of JJ came with that sour coating now, like sherbet lemons on your tongue. You wonder if you’d feel the same way if Mark weren’t around. 

But he is, and you’re glad he is. 

Looking over to him, you reach out your hand to capture his, resting on his thigh. He glances over at you and smiles. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just happy, s’all.”

“That’s good,” he says, looking back to the road. Like something from a music video, he raises your interlocked hands to his lips and presses a kiss to the back of your hand. “Means I’m doing something right, if you’re happy.”

It’s impossible not to do a double-take as you pull up to what was formally the Maybank property. It’s as if new life has been breathed into it. More than just a lick of paint, there’s two brand new buildings alongside a pretty sturdy looking pier and dock. There’s a handmade charm to everything that makes it all the more enticing and impressive. Mark seems to think so too because he whistles as the two of you pull up the driveway. You look to your left and see the Twinkie. A relic from your past, of memories half-naked, rolling around the back with JJ, sharing a blunt in a post-orgasmic haze. Your thoughts shut off with the engine. 

Mark takes the lead, his hand in yours, and carries the box of leftovers up to the house. You both wander up the porch and Mark knocks twice on the door. Your eyes look at everything, taking it in, admiring every detail, until someone opens the door. It’s Kiara. 

“Hey. Can I help you?” she asks your monolith of a boyfriend. You poke your head from around his body. 

“Hey Kie.”

“Oh my Gosh! Girl, where have you been?” Kie beams. The two of you embrace, laughing and smiling. “Wait - did you get the stuff I sent JJ over with?”

“Yeah, we did,” you say. “Thank you so much.”

“We actually brought this as a thanks,” Mark adds, offering out the tub. She eyes him almost with suspicion. 

“Sorry, I forgot to say - Kie, this is Mark. My boyfriend,” you explain. Kie’s eyebrows shoot up with that final word but she recovers quick. 

“Nice to meet you, Mark,” she says. She takes the box and glances through the plastic. 

“Just some leftovers we thought you might like. Muffins and cinnamon buns and things like that.”

“Thanks guys, you didn’t have to. We’re happy to contribute,” Kiara tells you. “In fact, me and Sarah were talking about maybe making it a regular thing. Like every Wednesday we bring some stuff from the garden, or fish that we’ve caught?”

“Oh my God, yeah, that’d be amazing,” you nod enthusiastically. “We can definitely figure out a system.”

“Perfect. I’ll put these inside. You guys want a drink or anything? I can show you around,” Kiara offers, opening the door wider in invitation. 

You glance over her shoulder into the room and then around the porch, behind you out to the water. You’re not sure why you were expecting JJ to just appear out of thin air in front of you. 

“JJ’s out on the dock, if you want to catch up,” Kiara posits, as if hearing your thoughts. You look at her and hold her gaze, and - unable to read what her expression means - nod. 

“I think I’ll go say hi. We didn’t get a chance to properly catch up,” you reply. You glance up at Mark. “You want to come with?”

“It’s alright. I’ll stay here and get the tour,” he tells you with a wink. You smile, press a kiss to his lips, and wander off with a wave to Kie, towards the dock. 

Feet thudding on the slabs of wood, the structure creaks as you walk to the shop. An American flag waves in the breeze. You run a hand along the thick rope bannister and glance down into the growth of plants and water weeds underfoot. I can’t believe they built all of this, you can’t help but think as you walk up to the wooden-slatted tackle-and-bait shop. As you walk into the store under the wooden ‘WELCOME’ sign, reggae music blesses your ears alongside the smell of incense. It’s jam-packed with miscellaneous water accessories: fishing gear, surfing gear, refreshments, you name it. There’s nobody behind the counter. You glance around and squint, catching onto a spot red through the window. JJ lies outside atop of a vintage cooler, feet crossed one over the other, arms tucked under his head. You can’t help but smile. Walking outside, you lean against the doorframe and fold your arms over your chest. 

“Well, as far as customer service goes, this is pretty crappy.”

He snaps up to sit like he has the joints of a ken doll. You laugh as he blinks his eyes awake, laying them on you. 

“Oh shit,” he says, clearing his throat, running a hand through his hair. “When’d you get here?”

“A few minutes ago. You looked pretty comfy there,” you say, amused. 

“Yeah, yeah, it’s a good nap spot,” JJ chuckles nervously, glancing down at where he just lay his head. He straightens his t-shirt and then looks back at you. His brows furrow. “Wait, what’re you doing here?”

“Came by to see the new place,” you reply, gesturing around you. “You offered.”

“Didn’t think you’d be in such a hurry.”

“No time like the present and all that.”

You’re acutely aware of how you’re avoiding mentioning Mark and how he’s currently being led around JJ’s former house and yard under Kie’s tow. 

“This is a pretty sick set-up,” you praise. 

“Yeah, it’s pretty good, huh?” JJ grins, getting to his feet. “Here, you want a beer? We’re technically closed for business anyway.”

Laughing, you shrug. “Sure. Why not.” 

Cracking open the cooler, he reaches in and retrieves two ice-cold cans. One is tossed to you and you catch it, and a feeling of deja vu rings through you. JJ, younger, just as handsome, throwing you a can of beer at a kegger. He leans against the cooler and you against a wooden pillar. Cracking cans and the fizz of beer, and you take a refreshing sip. A comfortable quiet comes and the two of you catch one anothers eyes. You smile. 

“I don’t think I said earlier, but it’s really nice to see you again,” you tell JJ. 

He smiles, small and reserved. “Thanks. It’s nice seeing you too. Even if it is with Joe America over there.”

“Joe America?” you snort. “Come on, he isn’t that bad.”

“No, no, he seems…uh, he seems nice.”

“He is nice.”

“I believe it.”

“Well…good.”

That marked the end of that conversation. You take a sip of your beer and sigh, looking out to the view of sunset over the marshland. 

“I wish you could’ve seen it,” JJ suddenly says. You look over to him with a frown, confused. “El Dorado, I mean. South America. It was beautiful. Like actually fucking stunning out there.”

“Really?” you say, smiling. 

“Hell yeah,” he grins. “Like there was colours out there that I didn’t even think existed without, like, LSD, man.”

You laugh and he does too and you’re glad whatever awkwardness that just came passed quick like a seastorm. 

“I still haven’t gone farther than Charleston, so I guess I’ll have to live vicariously,” you lightheartedly remark. 

“Yeah, well, turns out there’s a pretty big world out there,” JJ grins. 

“Glad one of us got to see it,” you hum. 

“Nah, you’ll see it too. All of it. Even Paris.”

The city’s name hangs heavy in the air. It was more than just a throwaway comment. It was a secret message, as if JJ was speaking in code. I remember it. I didn’t forget. You wash down the adrenaline with another sip of beer. 

“But no place like home, huh?” JJ says, clearing his throat. 

“Probably helps now that John B ain’t a fugitive anymore,” you muse. JJ laughs, nodding. 

“Yeah, yeah, no, for sure.”

“Well, I’m glad you found your happiness, JJ,” you say, smiling at him. “I’m glad you found yourself out.”

“Ain’t we all?”

The two of you watch one another for a moment. His resting smile lingers on the edges of his thin lips. His round, soft cheeks that add to a boyishness about him that his jawline doesn’t allow. You always liked JJ’s hair though. A mop of blonde planted atop of his head with sun-bleached highlights and deep-sea lowlights. But he’s taking you in too. You can’t take the weight of his stare after a while. Taking a deep breath, pushing away from the beam, you ditch your half-drunk beer atop of the cooler. 

“Well, I better get going.”

“You sure? I mean, we can hang out a bit longer, if you like?”

You smile politely and shake your head. “I’m not the one driving, so…”

JJ looks over your shoulder and spots Mark. “Ah. Didn’t know Dollar Store Chris Evans was here, my bad.”

“JJ! Don’t be mean!”

“I ain’t being mean! If anything, that’s a compliment,” JJ defends. You roll your eyes. “Look, I’ll see you around though. It’d suck to go back to being strangers again when we’re both in the same place for a change.”

Despite the innocence of the offer, something in your gut tells you that you shouldn’t agree. You should set a boundary there, draw a line, and leave it in the past. So, really, you have nobody to blame but yourself for saying “I’d like that” with a smile in farewell, before walking back across the dock to your boyfriend. 

Salted Chips

JJ had always been in your life. However, in the past, he was more of a background character, like an NPC in a videogame that creators constantly add in like an Easter Egg. The kind of character you’re curious about, in terms of their past and their present, their wants and their fears, but the kind you never have the privy to get close to in that way. He’d be at parties, at the surf break, at the shops or at school, but he wasn’t in your life. Until he was. 

Fate came in the form of a seating plan for history class. 

You and JJ were classmates. Table buddies. At first, the conversation was nonexistent. Sometimes JJ wouldn’t show up to class at all, either bunking off or playing truant in the bathrooms to light up a joint. But sometimes he’d come to class, usually escorted by Pope, and you’d share an uncomfortable silence as you worked through the hour. But then came an assignment that needed to be done out of class, and numbers were exchanged and words were shared outside of ‘what did he say’ and ‘what’s the homework’ and ‘what answer did you get for five?’. At your prompting to start on the project, JJ offered up the Chateau to work at, John B’s house that was a renovated fishing shack on the marsh. 

To stimulate inspiration for the poster the two of you had to create - outlining the history of the American Civil War - JJ had offered up beers and a blunt, and you were glad to take him up on the offer. If you’re going to be doing schoolwork at the weekend, you might as well get something out of it other than mind numbing boredness. It seems you saying yes to JJ’s “gifts” put you in his good books. It’s as if you could see the moment his opinion of you changed. From there, it was as if the two of you had always known the other. Conversation came easy, banter even more so. Time spent together stretched outside of the classroom and instead into lunch breaks and evenings and weekends. He’d seek you out at keggers and hang with you at the beach. Somewhere in the roots of you friendship grew an attraction from the fondness. You noticed it in his lingering glances, his drifting gaze from your eyes to your mouth to your body. Later, you heard it in his words, finding innuendos in smalltalk, catching compliments like falling stars. Eventually, both slightly intoxicated, it came to a head, about three months into this natural-forming friendship. 

“Yo!”

You turn around, beer in hand, startled by the interruption. It’s JJ. He’s wearing a cap, squishing down his beautiful locks of blonde; the muted green pairs well with his t-shirt. His combat boots sink into the ground, damp from the rainfall earlier in the day. Everything smells piney and fresh. You lift a finger to your lips to coax him to be quiet. His brows quirk up, a bemused smile gracing his gorgeous face. God really does have favourites, it seems. 

“You good?”

“Sh! You’ll scare them,” you whisper. At his cocking head, confused, you fervently gesture for him to come over. He does. His presence by your side is almost overwhelming. The buzz from the liquor makes it difficult to keep your itching hands to yourself and your inhibitions at bay. “You see them?”

“See what?”

“The birds.”

“What?”

“Look, here,” you mumble. You lean close to him so you can point clearly with your finger, just along his line of vision. A whiff of JJ’s scent dusts your nose. He’s warm like he creates heat. Through the canopy of leaves, you can make out a single branch of a tree. In the nook, against the trunk, is a nest, and inside is a bunch of baby birds, cawing out for their mother, hungry, blind. You’d left them some salted chips on the floor, crumbled and scattered, in case the mother wanted to steal some to take up and gift. She probably wouldn’t, but something about their cries made you feel the need to do something, and it wasn’t as if you could offer up your beer. 

“Woah.”

“You see ‘em?”

“Yeah,” JJ breathes. “That’s sick, how did you see them?”

“I heard them first,” you tell him, keeping your voice low so as to not frighten them. “Needed some air.”

“The smoke from the campfire botherin’ you?”

“I swear to God, it targets me,” you sincerely reply, making JJ laugh. You finally retract your finger (still sticky from the Smores made earlier) and turn, looking up at him. He looks down at you. Some strands of hair stick out from under his cap, pressing against his forehead. His brows are almost permanently slanted, eyes bright in the dusk of the evening. His shark tooth necklace sits against his chest. JJ’s lips quirk at your staring. “It’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair?”

“You’re so pretty,” you say, shaking your head, smiling. The alcohol has given you too much confidence, it seems. Loose lips. His eyes widen in momentary surprise but he catches it, covers it well. Then, comes his mask of confidence. He gives you a cocky smile. 

“You’re not too bad yourself,” he suavely replies. 

“Nah, I mean it. You’re really something, Maybank,” you smile, doubling-down. In for a penny and all that.  

His smugness fades into something more real. He doesn’t seem to know how to take compliments like that. Then, strangely, something like panic tugs his brows together. “I’m not very good at this sorta thing.”

Your frown of confusion seems to spur him on. 

“Being honest. Real. I’m…I’m pretty fucked up, y’know?”

“The best people are,” you murmur, meaning every word. 

“Nah, I mean it, though. I’m not…I don’t wanna hurt you.” JJ says it so quietly, so sincerely, that you get the sense that he’s never said it before. Maybe only thought it on dark nights, when you’re so alone with your thoughts it’s maddening. Smiling, shaking your head, you lift a hand to his cheek. Your heart hiccups at how he relaxes into your touch. 

“I don’t think you have to worry ‘bout that,” you whisper. 

You’re not sure who moves first, whether it’s him or you, but you end up a hair-width apart at the lips. His breath is hot as it fans onto your lips. Risk comes like a lightning rod and you take it, pushing onto your toes, connecting your lips with his. His hand finds yours and squeezes. That small gesture, as innocent as it is, tells you that you’re crossing this boundary together, from friends into something more. 

Pistachio Pastries 

The smell of coffee rouses you from sleep. You hum sleepily into your pillow, nuzzling in the scent of your boyfriend: peppermint and sage. A heavy palm gently pets your hair. 

“Wake up, sleepy,” Mark murmurs. 

You grumble in protest and he chuckles. The bed dips and the duvet lifts as he climbs back into the cocoon of warmth. Rolling over, you tuck yourself against him. He always slept in pyjamas. It was adorable. Nothing cheesy: just a simple shirt and flannel bottoms. His arm hooks around your waist and holds you against him. You swear to God, you could hide here forever. Mark was safety and security. Mark was the netting beneath a trapeze artist. Mark was the emergency brake in a racing car. 

“Wednesday again,” he says, stroking the skin of your back. “Kiara messaged the Instagram page today. Said one of them will drop off an order around one-ish.”

“Sweet.”

An alarm blares from Mark’s phone and he cusses, breaking apart from you to retrieve it and turn it off. You take the opportunity to sit up and grab your coffee. The steam tickles your nose as you blow on it. Routine. Mornings spent in the mini home Mark had made in his parents backyard, in their old shed. He brought you coffee in the morning and you brought him tea before bed. You’d be asleep by ten and awake by eight. Your shifts at the smoothie shop typically followed a Monday through Friday routine, with the exception of midweek, with Wednesdays reserved for The Stirring Spoon. Weekends passed in a blink. Then, you reset to continue with the same thing again. 

But that’s okay. Routine is okay. It’s reliable. Monotonous in a way that assures certainty. Besides, you liked your job, and your coffee, and your Stirring Spoon. But maybe it might be nice to stray from it all, just for a change. 

You carefully place your coffee back on the side table and look over to Mark. He’s scrolling on his phone, lips set in a line, brows tugged together in vague concentration. A thrill runs through your body at the thought, as you press several kisses to the skin of his neck. You feel him breath beneath you. Then a kiss comes to your forehead, quick like a grandparent to their least favourite grandchild. 

“Baby,” you hum, lifting a hand to rub your finger along his jawline. 

“Mhm?”

“Do you have any, like…things you wanna try.”

He takes a moment to think, looking up from his phone. A smile comes to his face and he looks down at you, and your body burns with anticipation. “Surfing. Was never that good at it but I’d like to try it again, y’know?”

It fizzles away like water atop of a dying flame. “Oh. Yeah, no, yeah…that’s…you should do that.”

He frowns. “You okay?”

“Well, I just meant more…in the bedroom. Like anything, I don’t know…” Your face burns like you’re a nun stumbling across a Playboy magazine. “Kinky?”

“Kinky?”

“Not like oh my God, kinky. Just…I don’t know…”

He quirks a brow, smiling at you in a teasing sort of way. “You got some kink you’re not telling me about?”

“Maybe,” you tell him, hoping it comes out seductive. 

“I don’t know,” Mark sighs, resting his head back against the wall. You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows and you lick over your lips. He grins, like something dawned upon him, and he dips his head suddenly to press his lips to yours. “Wanna know what I’ve always wanted to try?”

“Mhm,” you say, lifting your hands to cup his face and keep him near. Yes, your body practically cries. Tell me, tell me, tell me. 

“Well,” he stalls, kissing you again. You chase his lips, shortening in breath. “I’ve always wanted–” another kiss “-to try-” another kiss “-doing it in the shower.”

It’s hard not to deflate completely with disappointment. 

Wow, yeah Mark. Kinky. 

But when you open your eyes, you come face to face with a nervous, sweet, caring Mark. A Mark who always makes sure you feel good and safe. A Mark who would never walk past an elderly man struggling to cross the road. A Mark who would donate a twenty dollar bill he found on the roadside. And you can see it in his eyes, this burning passion, this shock at his own words, because for him, that was like confessing to watching gangbang porn in a Church. So, you plaster on a smile, feigning excitement. “No, yeah. That’d be fun. We should totally do that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you grin, kissing him again. He sighs, pushing back against you. Your body sparks up again. The feel of his hands on your sides is like static energy. “We should try it now.”

“Now?”

“Mhm,” you nod eagerly, kissing at his lips desperately. “Good way to start the morning, huh?”

“Maybe,” he says. He pulls away slightly, guilty as he adds, “but it’s been a while since I cleaned the bathroom. And I promised my mom I’d help her out today, and I gotta be good to go in like ten minutes so…”

“Oh.”

He kisses you fleetingly on the lips and then tosses the bedsheets off his lap. You watch him get up. “But maybe soon? Like Friday?”

Routine with scheduled sex. 

“Okay,” you say through a false smile. You sink against your pillow and watch him put on his slippers. The moment his back turns, you drop the expression. You’re so disappointed there doesn’t feel much point in trying to get off by yourself now, either. You don’t seem to fix your frown quick enough before he turns back around. 

“Oh, hey, baby, I didn’t mean to upset you,” Mark frowns. He lowers down so his eyes are level with yours. You pout like a child as you look at him. He pushes some hair off your face. “I swear, if I weren’t about to go help my mom, I’d be all over you right now.”

“Mhm.” Maybe you are being a bit selfish. He’s helping his mother for God’s sake! Smiling, properly this time, you jokingly warn, “I’m gonna hold you to that, Mark.”

“You better,” he winks. He kisses you before leaving the room, into the bathroom. Sighing, you roll on your back and blink up at the ceiling. You practise your mantra - Mark is good. Mark is good for me. Mark is good. Mark is good for me - and you get up to start your day. 

The Stirring Spoon is a good distraction from your whining libido. It’s hard to think about fucking when you’re comparing shapes of pasta. And yet, you still find a way. Because as you stack packets of spaghetti, you try and recall the last time you and Mark had really good sex. Not sex where it’s soft and nice and satisfying. Sex when you feel like you might cry or scream, just to cope with the pleasure pulsing through your body. Sex when you’re actually scared that you might have a heart attack from how fast your heart’s beating. Was it ever like that with Mark? Was it ever like that with anybody else?

Yes. 

“Hey.”

The very boy who just popped into your mind like a vision stands before you, crate in hand, smile on face, as if you manifested him. 

“JJ.”

“You good? You were looking at that spag pretty hard,” he asks, amused. 

“No, yeah, I’m good,” you say. You drop the pasta like it’s incriminating to what you were thinking about. Don’t tell JJ about the hot sex I was thinking about with him, pasta, please. “What’re you doing here?”

“Delivery from Kildare County Kitchen,” he says, dropping the crate down onto an empty spot on the table. “Some of Cleo’s less deadly version of her gumbo; a few sandwiches that Sarah whipped up; and some fish me and John B caught the other day.”

“Damn, that’s quite the haul,” you say, glancing into the crate and surveying its contents. “Thanks, JayJ.”

As you retrieve the items and lay them out carefully and neatly on the table, JJ shoves his hands in his short pockets and looks around the yard. “So. Loverboy here?”

“He’s busy today, helping his mom.”

“Ah. You short of a helping hand today, then?”

“Why? You want to help?” you say, half-joking. But JJ shrugs. 

“I’m not doing much. Why not?”

“Don’t the others need you back at the shop?”

“There’s five of them, I think they’ll manage,” JJ replies sardonically. He claps and rubs his hands together. “Where do I start?”

“Um…” You stand upright and scan the area, checking what looks the most chaotic. As if on cue, the local bakery van pulls up. “Oh, sweet. Delivery. You can help me unload and log inventory.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The two of you walk over to the van, side by side, hands kept politely to yourselves. Small talk sits on your tongue but doesn’t make it into the world. 

“Morning Mr Parker,” you call. 

“Morning, darlin’,” he croons in his southern accent. “You too, Maybank.”

“Good to see you, sir,” JJ nods. 

“What you got for me today?” 

“Some good stuff, I’m not going to lie to y’all,” he grins over his shoulder before opening the doors to the back of the van. Mr Parker pulls out a tray of sealed baked goods. JJ steps in and takes it, and as he holds it you crack open the lid to peer in. 

“Pastries?”

“Pistachio pastries,” Mr Parker says proudly. His takes off his cap and brushes a hand through his short grey hair. “My wife got a bit carried away. People in this town don’t have that fancy of taste buds.”

“Maybe not on the Cut,” JJ mumbles, making you smile. 

“Well, be that as it may, glad I can contribute something to your little venture,” Mr Parker tells you. He squeezes your shoulder sweetly. “Y’all doing a good thing, with this here Stirring Spoon.”

“Thank you,” you say, overwhelmed by the simple praise. “Well, we appreciate any contribution, especially pistachio flavoured ones.”

With that, the three of you get to work carrying the four trays of baked goods to a spare table. Bidding Mr Parker farewell, you and JJ take pause against the table. 

“I think I’ve earnt a break.”

“You’ve been here less than an hour.”

“Time flies by when you’re having fun, and all that,” he says passingly as he cracks open one of the bakery tubs. He grabs one of the pastries and tosses it into his mouth. His eyes widen as he chews. “Holy shit. These are so good.”

“JJ, you’re not supposed to eat the–”

“--try one.” A pastry is shoved into your mouth. You glare at him but bite, and holy shit this is really good. It must read on your face cause JJ grins. “Yeah, right? So good.”

“Oh my God,” you mumble. The two of you smile at one another like you’re stealing cookies from a jar. 

“You remember that time we got high and raided Pope’s dad’s fridge?”

You laugh and nearly choke on the flaky pastry. “Oh my God, I totally forgot about that.”

“You were like a fucking racoon,” JJ sniggers. 

“You were the one that got me high in the first place.”

“I didn’t fucking drug you! You wanted to try it!”

“Yeah, I did,” you grumble, unwilling to accept responsibility for completely draining the Heyward fridge. 

“You’re cute when you’re high.”

You glance up at him. His smile is coy, like he knows he shouldn’t have said that. Because he shouldn’t. Rolling your eyes, you play it off as best you can. “Cute whilst I’m stuffing my face with questionable cheese?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, shrugging. “You’re cute all the time though, so guess it’s not very hard for you to be even cuter high.”

“JJ, stop it.” Your tone is gentle but firm. “I have a boyfriend.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” JJ says. “Captain Vanilla.”

You hate how he isn’t completely wrong. “That’s not his name.”

“It’s just too easy,” he shrugs, playful as always. “The guy is a walking textbooked ‘good guy’.”

“What’s so wrong with that?” you mumble, picking out another pastry and studying the way it’s rolled. 

“Nothing, I guess. Just find it funny.”

“Funny how?”

“That you’d go from me to him.”

You glance up from the pastry to meet his gaze. “We never officially dated, JJ.”

“Same difference,” he shrugs. “But hey - you know you. You know what you want.”

“Exactly…” 

You do know you, don’t you? It sounds like such a crazy thing to question. But the older you get, the more you think you don’t know a thing about yourself. What’s your favourite colour? What’s your favourite animal? What do you want out of your future? What do you want out of a relationship? Journeying back to the morning, your mind replays the scenes like a horror movie. The worries of when the last time you felt passion in the bedroom feeds into worries of when the last time was that you felt passion, period. Oh no: it feels like an existential crisis might be coming on, about thirty years too early.

“Hey.” You snap out of your spiral. JJ forces a smile. “Just wanna know that you’re still living, not just secure. Y’know. As a friend.” 

Funnily enough, that does little to cheer you up. 

Croissants

JJ’s skin is warm against your cheek. Your face rests on his bicep, using it as a makeshift pillow, as you lay skin-to-skin, body-to-body. One of your legs is hooked over his, and his palm rubs large, mindless patterns against the sweat-sticky skin. The room is bathed in moonlight, the curtains drawn closed, and you can hear the sounds of the marsh from outside the Maybank residency. You wonder if JJ might have fallen asleep. His chest is rising and falling rhythmically and you can’t see his face from here, to tell if his eyes are open or shut. But then he sighs and you smile against his arm. 

“Tell me about your family,” you request in the quiet of the room. 

“What about them?”

“Anything, really. Like about your mom and dad; if you have any siblings,” you murmur. 

“Not much to tell,” JJ replies in a hum. 

“Still. Tell me anyway.”

“Tell me about yours,” JJ deflects. You crack a smile. 

“Alright,” you relent. “I live with my mom and my dad. She’s a waitress and he’s a mechanic.”

“You got any brothers or sisters?” he asks, his thumb massaging your upper leg. 

“I did,” you say, your voice turning softer. “An older sister.”

“What happened?”

Your lips press together. An image flashes into your mind like a jumpscare, of a coffin dressed in white daisies and lilies. Swallowing thickly, you close your eyes and will the memory away. It’s then that you decide to confide in JJ. 

“Do you know who Andy Warhol is?”

“I recognise the name,” he replies after a moment, not questioning why the sudden change in topic. 

“He was an artist. Painted a lot of pop-arty things.”

“Is that the freakshow who painted those boring-ass soup cans?” JJ wonders. You laugh quietly. 

“I wouldn’t describe him like that but yeah, that’s the guy.”

“What about him?” JJ asks. 

“He was in love with this man, way back when. He kept a diary and this man he was in love with died, and Andy was heartbroken. But he ain’t like to say that somebody had died. Instead, he used to write that ‘they went away’, like on a trip or somethin’,” you tell him. Your voice trails off towards the end, fearing JJ might laugh at you as you go on to say, “I don’t know. I think I’d like to say that about my sister.”

JJ shifts underneath you until the two of you are lying side by side, now able to see one another’s faces through the muggy darkness of the room. His eyes glow in the non-existent light, shining and present, gazing into yours. 

“Where’d she go, then? On this trip of hers,” he coaxes. Your lips part in surprise, and for some reason, you want to cry for his small act of kindness. Then, you smile, small and sombre. 

“To Paris, in France,” you whisper. 

“She go to the Eiffel Tower?”

“Every day. She eats dinner there at night and watches it twinkle. For breakfast, she buys a croissant and sits by the Seine,” you murmur. Tears wet your eyes as you picture your lost sister, venturing the streets with the wind in her hair, kissing her plump cheeks. Your voice is thick when you continue, “it’s her dream to see all the stuff in the Louvre. She goes every week and keeps a note of where she’s been and where she wants to go.”

“Like the Catacombs?”

You laugh and sniffle. “Nah. They’re too creepy for her.”

“Damn straight,” JJ mumbles. “They scare the crap outta me.”

As a tear lets slip, trickling down your cheek, JJ reaches out his thumb and wipes it away. His hand lingers on your face and you feel yourself lean into his hold. It’s like he’s holding you up. He’s holding you together. You open your eyes into his. There’s a smile on his face, different to the others. More reserved, less obvious, so different to the JJ you’d known and heard of before. You’re terrified of losing it entirely or saying something especially stupid, and so instead you mouth two words: ‘thank you’. 

When he kisses you, it’s different too. There’s something about it, like a taste that wasn’t there before, and it lingers in your mind and mouth. It only grows as JJ deepens the kiss. Your hand traces his jawline and your fingers loop through the locks of his hair, and you tug him closer with a breath. The dance of your lips and tongues and teeth is growing more and more familiar by the day and it terrifies you how easy it has been to become accustomed to it. How easy it has been to become accustomed to JJ. Hands on your hips, JJ lifts you atop of him with a grunt, him rolling onto his back. You shrug the comforter off your back and straddle him. Your hands cradle his face, palms cupping his cheeks. You kiss him like he’s the antidote to all your ailments. Your mouth chases him in the teasing of his lips, breaking apart just to reel you back in. JJ’s teeth nip at your lower lip and pull, just so, just enough to have you whining and sighing like some lovesick fool. Maybe you are. 

“JJ,” you mewl, rocking back against him. He groans as you begin to torture his jawline and neck. Groans louder when you suckle on the tender skin by his ear, painting hickeys like a beautiful landscape. His fingers dig into the flesh of your hips deep enough to leave delicious bruises. You feel him growing hard beneath you as you grind against him like some animal in heat. 

“Fuck, you’re so…Fuck…” 

Your lips continue their descent down his body. Kisses are peppered along his windpipe, bridging over his Adam’s apple, and you can feel every breath, every stutter, every sigh. Down his chest, bare and broad, and down his stomach. His hands are now free from your hips and instead they tether into your hair, combing through the strands. You look up at him from between his legs - he’s made space for you - and can make out his lazy smile through your hooded gaze. JJ’s looking down at you too. His eyes glow. 

You ghost a kiss over his boxers and he inhales a long, deep breath, his head tilting back into the pillows, eyes undoubtedly slipping shut. Lips upturning with a smile, your fingers tuck into the band of his boxers, and you pull them down his legs tantalisingly slow. Somewhere in the shadows of the room you hear him mumbling, ‘please.’ Taking him in hand, revelling in his short gasp, you guide him to your mouth. The smell, the feel - it all consumes you as you go down on him. The brush of bristly hair scratching against your nose, flooding your senses. JJ’s hand comes to the back of your head quick, as if guiding your pleasure, wordless praising your ways. Until it’s not wordless. 

“Fuck, that’s it…Taking me so fucking good, huh? Look so pretty like this…”

You hum around his length and he stammers out a moan. Your eyes flick up to take in the sight of his exposed neck, head thrown back, mouth hanging open as he lets noises slip through, shameless and sinful. And you love it, the way you can bring him to the brink, the way you can manipulate his satisfaction like moulding something out of clay. A finger here, a stroke there. The tip hits the back of your throat uncomfortably. You pull away with a damning pop and a trail of saliva connects the two of you. Resting your head against the apex of his thigh, you jack him off with your hand, almost mesmerised by the way he pulses in your hold. Maybe it’s the sounds he makes. JJ Maybank walks like he’s a God; it’s a power trip to have him weak at your hold. 

“Please, please, fuck…Jus’want your mouth, baby, please,” he begs through gritted teeth. His hand gently yet firmly pushes at your head, trying to guide you back to him, and you feel a giggle bubble up through your throat. It feels unnatural, this version of you. Sexy, seductive, sly. 

“You want my mouth?” you tease, pressing a kiss to his throbbing dick. 

“Fuck - yes, yes, please,” he groans. You glance up at him and meet JJ’s gaze. His hair, damp with sweat, hangs over his forehead, dangling over his eyes. A sadistic smile is on your face as you pull away, easing your hand off him too. His brows furrow. It’s like something snaps inside of him - some restraint he was holding breaking like the overstretching of elastic. His hands are on your in a second, gripping and grabbing at your body like you weigh no less than feathers, and you gasp as he tosses you onto your back. He’s on top of you, ravishing your throat and collarbone so mercilessly, you’re gaping at the ceiling, eyes wide. 

“Think that’s funny, huh? Wanna see how much you like it?”

You stammer something out; you don’t even know yourself if it’s a yes or no. All you know is you want him - you need him - on you, in you. Anything. JJ doesn’t make you wait. His hands pull your panties away swiftly. A finger slips all too easily through your slit and you gasp, eyes rolling shut. His laugh is deep, crooning, cruel in your ear. 

“So fucking wet for me, hm? Such a fucking slut. Wanna see how it feels?”

“P-please.”

The stretch of your walls isn’t unpleasant as he eases a finger in. You let out a wanton moan. It pumps leisurely inside, the foreign metal of his ring overwhelming, and the brush of the tip of his thumb against your clit has you panting from the pleasure. 

“Yeah, you like that, huh?”

“Fuck…”

“Yeah,” he chuckles. Then the torture begins, of the instant movement of his finger, in and out, in and out, before easing away so suddenly it’s like he was never there. After that, the faintest of pressure on the exposed skin at his mercy. His damp finger trailing the inside of your thigh. He repeats this cycle until you’re almost in tears. Your hands clutch the bedsheets in fists, feet writhing uselessly at the head of the bed, kicking at the flimsy pillows. You know he’s gloating from the power he holds. Something tells you he doesn’t get this much control in most aspects of his life. Something tells you he gets off this just as much as you. “You wanna come? Do you?”

“Fuck! Please, please, JJ, please. I’ll do anything, please, please,” you blubber. You don’t care how embarrassing it sounds; how much it pleases him. All you care about is feeling that hot, blinding, pulsing pleasure consuming your every nerve, every bone, every fibre of your being. His breath is hot against your collarbone. JJ kisses the lobe of your ear in such a tender way you wouldn’t be able to fathom the magic he works with his hands below the belt. And as you finally break, tumbling over the edge, letting out a fucked-out sob when you do, you can make out JJ’s low voice, his Southern accent thick like molasses. 

“That’s it, baby. Make a mess on my fingers.”

Smores 

Despite telling Mark where you’re going, it still feels like sneaking around behind his back as you walk up to the Pogue’s house. But this isn’t anything nefarious. This is just you breaking routine. This is you catching up with old friends, current friends, and having fun. Sharing some drinks, smoking a joint or two, sitting around a campfire. Good, old fashioned fun just like when you were sixteen. 

Yep. That’s all. 

“Hey yo! There she is!” JJ hollers the moment you come into view. 

“Hey!” you smile, waving. In your other hand is a bag filled with a six pack of beer, a packet of graham crackers, some chocolate and a bag of marshmallows. You ditch it by the cooler to hug everyone hello. JJ’s last. His arms wrap around you like tree vines, secure and strong, and it’s familiar in a way that has you lingering. Mark. You break apart and take a seat on the opposite side of the campfire to him. 

“What’s in the bag, mystery girl?” the girl you now know as Cleo asks. 

“Some refreshments,” you say, lifting up the six pack. That earns a few whoops and hollers of approval from the already tipsy group. “And some snacks.”

“Smores?” Sarah gasps. She takes the bag of marshmallows from you. 

“Just like old times,” you say. Your eyes catch JJ’s. He’s watching you. 

“Let’s light these bad boys up,” John B announces. The gang is vocal in their approval. Sticks and twigs are gathered for skewers. Marshmallows dangle over the open flames that lick into the dusky air. A marshmallow shoves at yours and you glower at JJ. 

“Leave my marshmallow alone.”

“Hey, this is America. I got rights, y’know?”

“Says who?”

“The constitution,” he retorts, grinning. You roll your eyes, trying and failing to bite back your smile. 

“Y’all better stop it,” Cleo says in her thick Jamaican accent. “I ain’t wanting any marshmallows going to waste.”

“You heard her,” you playfully quip at the blonde haired boy. He rolls his eyes at you. He’s smiling. The amber of the fire paints his face like an oil artwork. What must it be like to grow up that beautiful? 

No, no, stop it. Stop it! God, what is wrong with you? This is just because you and Mark have been a bit distant lately. Yes, that’s all. You’re getting stuck on nostalgia. It’s a mind’s trick. It didn’t work before with JJ so who’s to say it will again. The two of you are friends - he’s been a good friend - and you don’t need to go muddying the waters. You punish yourself by staring into the flames and trying to make images of Mark’s face in the fire. 

The night spurs on with drinks that wash down the sickly sweet snacks. You listen to the tales of El Dorado and laugh at the reminiscences of youthful madness when you were all in high school. It isn’t until you’re back in the bubble of the Pogues that you realise how much you missed it. It’s like rediscovering your favourite movie from childhood. It brings a certain comfort that few things can match. They ask about The Stirring Spoon and you recount the tale of how you came about with the idea, of how you got it off the ground. Nobody asks about Mark and you’re ashamed that you don’t feel the urge to bring him up, either. 

You go for another swig of your beer to find it empty. The cooler by John B is empty too, upon investigating. You drop the lid. 

“You guys got any more beers?”

“Probably some down at the fish and tackle shop,” Kiara tells you. 

“Thanks,” you say, starting towards the dock. The further you walk, the more the vivacious chatter turns into a humming like the crying cicadas and croaking frogs and cooing owls. The water laps at the wooden pillars and you smile, letting your eyes slip shut for a moment as you walk. Nature is so wonderfully peaceful. The cooler is full of bait and chum, but there’s a small section for the beers. You retrieve one and drop the lid to find JJ standing in your peripheral. 

“Holy shit!”

“Sorry!”

“What the fuck, man?” you laugh. 

“Just wanted a refill too,” he says, shooting you a squiffy smile. His hair is dishevelled. He seems to wear caps less now, you note. You’re happy about that. In your tipsy state you can admit your attraction with less shame. You chalk it up to appreciating beauty the way one can appreciate a perfect sunset or timeless painting. To stop your staring, you open the cooler and hand him a can. “Thanks.”

“Hey, cheers,” you say, holding your drink out. He clinks his against yours. “To old friends.”

The two of you take a drink. Neither of you go to move back to the other Pogues (who are seemingly in some weird charades battle that is far from quiet). JJ gestures over your shoulder. “You seen the boat yet?”

“The H.M.S?” 

“Nah, the new one,” JJ answers. 

When he walks past you, you catch a whiff of his smell and it reminds you of home. You turn and follow him. He steps up onto the large boat. It’s painted bright green and in yellow paint, the name reads The Snapper. JJ offers you a hand and you take it, letting him help you up onto the boat. You feel your phone vibrate in the pocket of your shorts but you’re in no mood to check it. 

“Pretty sweet, huh?”

“So sweet,” you agree, looking around. JJ wanders over to the main console and flicks on an overhead light. He glows beneath it. When he takes a seat on the bench, you do the same, sitting opposite. Sighing, you lean your head back against the brutal plastic. “This is the life.”

“Yeah? You miss the marsh?”

“I miss it all,” you quietly confess. 

You can hear the rustle of clothes and the flick-flick of a lighter. The smell of cannabis drifts into the air. “Here.”

Opening your eyes, you lift your head to find a joint extended out to you. Smiling, you take it with thanks and have a hit, then a second, then a third. You haven’t smoked in what feels like forever. Mark doesn’t like the smell; says it makes him feel sick. You wonder why you stopped indulging in something you enjoyed just because of that, even on your own time. 

“Thanks,” you say, passing the joint back. You ditch your beer can to the side. One poison at a time would be best in these sticky situations, you reckon. 

“What’d you mean, ‘you miss it all’?”

“I don’t know,” you sigh. You gaze off into the distance; it’s hard to make out much definition in the dark, save for some lights of houses in the far distances and the silhouette of plants and trees. “I feel like my life is so…‘same’ now.”

“Same is good.”

“Sometimes,” you say. “But I keep thinking about what you said to me, the other day. About being secure but still living. What if…What if I’m not living?”

“Well–”

“--I mean, look at you guys! You went to El Dorado! You found El Dorado, and the Royal Merchant, and the Royal Merchant’s treasure, and the Cross of Santo Domingo. What did I find? A mouldy tomato in a box of potatoes.”

JJ cracks up and you roll your eyes. “It’s not funny,” you mutter, smiling nonetheless. You take the joint back and have another drag. Relief fills your system. The muscles in your face loosen along with your mouth. “It’s pathetic. I’m nearly twenty-one and I’ve been as far as Charleston and have about a handful of exciting memories to my name.”

“Woah, come on now,” JJ chuckles, taking the blunt back. “Don’t you think you’re being a bit hard on yourself? You heard what Mr Parker said: that Stirring Spoon thing is awesome, and that was all you. You’re feeding the community, bringing people together. That’s way cooler than some shiny fucking  stones.”

“Meh,” you shrug. “Guess I’m just jealous of you.”

“Ha! Yeah, don’t be,” JJ sarcastically berates. A shadow comes to his face. Foot in the mouth syndrome curses you.

“Shit. Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You’re good. I sometimes forget how bad it was too, with how things are now,” JJ admits. He smiles at you and takes another hit. “But I guess I didn’t fully let you in then, huh?”

“You think?” you jest. He laughs, thankfully, and you inhale the sweet scent of the herb. “Guess I just get stuck on the good memories from before. Like all the days skipping school to surf. And how the summers felt like they could go on forever. Or that time we broke into City Hall, or pranked Topper’s house.”

“Damn, I guess we did get up to a lot of shit, huh?”

“Damn straight,” you grin. Following the dance, you take the joint back. 

“Well, I can think of some other memories, too,” JJ says. His grin is telling, tongue poking through his teeth. You bite back your smile. 

“Don’t,” you warn. 

“What?” he chuckles. 

“Don’t! That’s dangerous territory,” you tell him. You point your joint at him. “That’s no man’s land.”

“Oh man!” JJ groans, tossing his head back. “Why’d you have to call it that!? You know that’s like calling a moth to a fire or whatever!”

“What?” you giggle, eyeing him. 

“Telling a guy not to do something is the exact thing to do to get a guy to want to do something,” JJ argues nonsensically. You laugh, shaking your head at him. He holds your gaze and you feel your smile settle into your skin like footprints into damp sand. “They were pretty good memories, huh?”

“Yeah,” you quietly say. “They were pretty good.”

“Remember that time we did it on the beach.”

“Stop it,” you say, but there’s little conviction in your words. You can’t take his eyes anymore, the blue dragging you under like currents in a riptide. You look down at the joint and fixate on the way the embers burn at the paper. 

“Or that time–”

“JJ, I mean it,” you say, your tone losing its humour now. You shoot him a look that you hope will put a pin in it. “We should talk about something else.”

“Alright, alright,” JJ surrenders, holding his hands up and all. He relaxes back against the plastic seat of the boat and you do the same. Your legs outstretch so you can rest your feet on the spot beside him. The two of you catch each other’s gaze and look away, chuckling bashfully like preteens. You take another hit of the joint and watch the smoke fizzle away into the night. “How’d you meet Mark, then?”

You glance at JJ. “A few months back. He’d just moved to Kildare and came by to The Stirring Spoon to help out, and we sort of hit it off.”

“He seems like a nice guy.”

“He is,” you smile. But it fades. The weed tickles at your emotions, pulling the wires as if to wreak havoc. JJ seems to take advantage. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you lie. You take another hit and shake your head, plastering on a smile. “It’s nothing.”

Sighing, JJ folds his arms comfortably over his chest. “Y’know, just cause I know what you look like naked don’t mean we can’t be friends now.”

Barking out a laugh, you shake your head. “There was definitely a better way you could have put that.”

“Probably,” he shrugs, grinning, “but it’s true, ain’t it? We can be friends.”

“Of course we can. We are,” you emphasise. 

“So…That means that if you wanna vent about Mr Loverboy to me, you can,” JJ offers. 

Laughing, you rock your head back and gaze up at the sky. The stars are out. They shimmer white and crystal in the abyss of the night. “That’d be too weird, I think, but I’ll keep it in mind, thanks.”

“I just got one question. Just one.”

“Go on,” you reluctantly reply. 

“Does he say ‘thank you’ after the two of you fuck?”

You burst into fits of laughter. It’s so sudden that it has you doubling over. Tears slip from your eyes and you wipe them away, looking at a grinning JJ. God, you missed him and his twisted sense of humour. 

“He just looks like the kinda guy who would!”

“Oh my God, no!” you laugh, shaking your head. Catching your breath, you manage out, “no, he doesn’t say ‘thank you’.”

“Is he the sub then? Cause there is no way that guy is laying his hands on you without written permission.”

“JJ stop! I’m gonna pee myself!” you cackle, kicking your feet. JJ starts laughing too. You open your eyes and make out his face in the lowlight of the pier’s lamp. Wheezing, you catch your breath and calm yourself. “This is exactly what I was talking about.”

“I can give the guy pointers if he needs them,” JJ jokes. Your eyes nearly fall out of their sockets just at the idea though and you point at him in another warning. 

“Don’t you dare!” you say, trying not to crack up again. “‘Sides, he doesn’t need pointers.”

“Everybody needs pointers,” JJ says with a roll of his eyes. “John B gave me one of the best pointers.”

“I find that impossible to believe,” you snort. 

“He did! It was a tip for kissing. Works like a fucking charm too, I’m telling ya.”

“Mhm, I’ll bet,” you sarcastically return. You glance at the joint to check if it needs tapping off, take another drag, and then look up to find JJ watching you. He hasn’t changed enough for you to forget what that expression means. 

“You want me to show you?”

“Show me? How?” you say with furrowed brows. Something in the air shifts with your question. An unspoken thing, an unseeable thing, but something nonetheless. A nervous tickle comes to your throat. 

JJ doesn’t reply but he slowly leans over the seat towards you. Your breath catches in your lungs the moment he enters your bubble, breaking some unspoken barrier, and your smile fades away like day into night. You feel as though you’re stuck in place, plastered to the seat, and you’re ashamed to admit that you don’t hate that you are. You’re ashamed that you’re not pushing him away, telling him to buzz off, laughing at his idiocy. You’re ashamed that you’re curious as to what he’s going to do next. 

JJ’s close enough now that you can smell him. His cologne mixed with something sweet but tangy, like seasalt and citrus. Something masculine underneath, that has a primal instinct inside of you wanting to claw its way out. Your fingers grip the edge of the seat instead. Your eyes stare into his. You study the laps of green and grey in the sea of blue, mesmerised in the way the night sky reflects in the iris. His gaze darts down to your lips and you have no idea how this happened and how you got here, and everything is blurry but so, so clear from the cannabis as he leans forward, and you can’t move but you should move and you want to move but you don’t, you never want to move again, as his lips brush against yours just so, just enough for you to know that they have, that he has, that he’s real, but that he hasn’t, and that you can take it all back, and that it doesn’t count and it shouldn’t and you shouldn’t but–

Your hand clutches his jaw and you pull him in. His lips crash against yours in a breath. You kiss him like you won’t ever kiss him again. He sighs against you in the hurried mesh of mouths, groaning as your tongue brushes against his, tasting him for the first time in years. It’s like finding a childhood toy and it smells like nostalgia. It’s like eating a baked good and it tastes like a specific holiday. It’s like smoking your first joint and it feels like floating. 

Until you’re not. 

Your body falls back down to earth with a thud. You shove JJ away as if he’s flammable and you’re the deadly spark. Your mouth hangs open in shock, your eyes filling with horror, and the worst feeling you’ve maybe ever felt overcomes you so suddenly, you worry you might be sick. 

Guilt. 

“Oh my God,” you whisper. You lift a hand to your lips and your fingers brush against the damp of his spit that lingers, and it confirms that it was all real. “Oh my God.”

JJ’s lips move to try and formulate words but nothing happens. He looks just as stunned as you do. His eyes are wide, lips swollen, cheeks pink. Those three words bang about your brain as you take in the sight of him. It’s not at all unfamiliar. 

Hot ash from your joint drops onto your thigh and you cuss, brushing it off. You toss the joint into the sea behind you as if it’s the culprit, the plotter, behind all of this. Then you’re on your feet and rambling out excuses. 

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I did that. I think it was - it was definitely the weed. I really should go, it’s so late. I’m so sorry. Oh my God, I have no idea-”

It’s as you’re about to step off the boat and onto the wooden pier that JJ’s hand locks around your wrist. It freezes you in place once more and you want to climb out of your body and scream at yourself. Instead, you look down at him. 

“You can stay, y’know,” JJ whispers. There’s a pleading in his eyes, a tenderness that you haven’t known before in him, and you finally know how Eve must have felt with that damn serpent in Eden. Temptation at its finest, dressed up in blonde, unruly hair and dreamy eyes and sculpted muscles and a graphic tee. 

Mark. 

You shake your head and snatch your hand free. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come here.”

And no matter how vehemently you tell yourself that you mean it as you hurry away from the pier and from the house, you know you don’t. 

Cheap White Wine 

The tart tanginess of the wine is sharp on your tongue as you take another swig. It’s late, or perhaps early, and the Chateau is illuminated by amber and orange from lamps. It’s raining outside as hurricane season rattles on, but you and the Pogues could care less. When you have wine, you really have everything you need. 

“Come on, come on!” Kiara laughs, egging on you to loop your arm in hers. The two of you line dance together to an old noughties CD in the player. You swing one another around in a tipsy haze to the upbeat tempo. Pope and John B heckle and holler from the pull-out sofa, toasting their beer cans up in approval. You’re happy here, like this, in your bubble. As the song comes to a close on a major chord, you and Kiara giggle and take joking bows to your audience. You frown when you look around the room, not finding JJ anywhere. 

“He’s on the porch,” Pope says, seemingly catching on. 

“Thanks,” you smile, a little embarrassed that you’re that easy to read. Taking the wine, you venture out the door, closing it behind you as another song starts up. Kie’s cheer and begging for John B to dance is muted through the shutters and windows. 

JJ sits on the sofa, a joint lit up, legs outstretched on the coffee table. He glances up at the sound of someone coming out and smiles at the sight of you. 

“Hey. Can I join?” you wonder. 

“Course,” he hums, shuffling a cushion in invitation beside him. You sit and lean against him, hitching your feet up onto the table beside his. He knocks one of his shoes against yours teasingly and you smile. Through the netting of the porch, you can make out the lashing of rain in the yard. It’s pitter-pattering is soothing like a nursery rhyme. You sigh and let your eyes slip shut. “Having fun?”

“Always,” you mumble, making him laugh. “You got any dreams?”

“Like sexy ones?”

“No,” you giggle, elbowing him, making him let out a few laughs too. “Like actual dreams. Ambitions. A wish.”

JJ takes a pause for thought. You have a swig of your wine as you wait, revelling in the sound of his heartbeat through his shirt, steady and constant. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

Your heart sinks with disappointment. This wasn’t the first time this has happened. It felt as though every time JJ came close to pulling back the curtain and letting you see a glimpse, he caught eye of something that scared him and he slipped it shut again. He told you what he wanted to tell you and kept the rest close to heart. You weren’t going to pry his cards from his body to see them, but it would be nice if he showed you them once in a while. It felt like the more time you spent with him, the less you knew. You could guess things from small clues as if playing a boardgame. He hardly went home, never mentioned his mother, and his father came into conversation with a shadow. He spoke lowly of himself, presumed the worst before others could, and it saddened you how clearly he believed everything he said. JJ couldn’t see himself the way you did. 

“I do,” you whisper, hoping it might entice him to share. 

“Oh yeah? What’s your dream?”

“I want to start a kitchen.”

“Huh?”

“Like a community kitchen thing. Not a bakery or a restaurant, just a place for all kinds of food, for all kinds of people, y’know? A good thing, like that. My sister used to help out at a soup kitchen and…I don’t know. I always liked that.”

JJ squeezes your thigh in acknowledgment. “Sounds fuckin’ amazing.”

“Thanks.”

In the Chateau, John B and Kiara laugh and Pope speaks loudly over them, something teasing, and you smile. The smell of weed fills the air before you and blends in with the notes of your wine and the telling scent of JJ. You wonder if the smell of you affects him in the same way; if the flavours of your perfume haunt him when he can’t sleep the way his cologne does for you. Suddenly, somewhere in the serenity of the moment comes a calamitous realisation, like a rumble thunder breaking the rain. 

You were falling in love with JJ Maybank. 

Biscuits  

Food poisoning. That’s what you’d told Mark. The heavy sickness that had sat in the bottom of your stomach like a boulder since last night lingered still. You hoped it was a hangover, but that passed with an advil. You knew what this was. 

You only escaped the guilt in your sleep. The moment you returned home, you climbed under the sheets of your bed like a child hiding from the bogeyman. Sleep was the only reprieve, though it didn’t come easy, and the second you came to in the morning, the first thought in your head was the look on JJ’s face just before his lips touched yours. 

Fuck. 

Your phone pings with another message that is no doubt from Mark and you can’t bring yourself to look at it. It doesn’t help that there’s a framed picture of the two of you staring at you from the bedside. It was his gift to you for your one month anniversary, because of course Mark cares about one month anniversaries. You hadn’t gotten him anything; you had to make up some lie that it was late in the mail, and then run to the shops that night. Just further proof that you don’t deserve him. 

Hello, hell? I’d like to reserve my spot in advance. Queen sized bed please, for me and my whorish ways. Much love. 

When the phone begins to ring you groan aloud and send it straight to voicemail. You bury your head beneath the pillow and close your eyes, but the memories haunt you like flashbacks. JJ’s eyes. JJ’s lips. The way he tasted, the way he bit your lower lip just so, in that way that only he knows, in the way that he always knew drives you crazy–

“Stop it!”

Hello, hell? Quick update: I think I might be going insane, too. Just thought I should preface you. 

Somewhere in your self-loathing, you manage to drift off into another restless sleep. It’s broken by a tapping on your door. Groaning, you force yourself out of the safety of your bed and wander to your door, expecting to find your mom. Instead, your head tips back to see the face of your boyfriend. 

“Hey,” he says. His voice is thick with concern, brows knitted with worry. “How you feeling?”

“Like shit.” Thankfully, you didn’t have to lie with that one. “What’re you doing here?”

“I needed to check on you,” he replies. He steps into your room and you make space, sitting on your bed. He closes the door behind him. “I tried calling but you didn’t answer.”

“Yeah, sorry, uh…I was just feeling really frail, y’know?”

“Oh, baby,” Mark sighs. He sits beside you on the bed and places his large palm on your forehead. His brown curly hair sits in perfect ringlets atop of his head. One dangles over his forehead, out of formation, and it reminds you of JJ. Just how you went from me to him, JJ had said. Were they that different, after all? “You got a temperature?”

“I don’t think so,” you say. You gently push his hand off your face. “I think I just need to sleep.”

“Well, I’m here to take care of you.”

“Really?” You hope the dread in your voice isn’t obvious. 

“Course. You’d do the same for me,” he smiles. He lifts a bag you didn’t even notice he was carrying and shows you each item. “Mama’s homemade biscuits. She’s real worried about you, y’know?”

“I’m fine,” you insist, “just a bit sick. I think the worst of it has passed.”

“That’s good, then. I’ll make you a hot drink, yeah? We can watch a movie or something. You get cosy,” Mark tells you. You nod and try your best to smile. Mark leans forward and presses a fleeting kiss on your lips, and the sickness comes back tenfold. You want to cry the second he’s out of your room. 

Mark is good. Mark is good for you. But what if you’re not good for Mark? 

Chocolate Chip Cookies

“I don’t understand.”

You sigh, rubbing tiredly at your forehead. Bile lingers in the back of your throat but you swallow it down, alongside the feeling of self-reproach. This was it: the conversation you’d been dreading. The conversation that needed to happen. You’d rehearsed your words in the mirror like practising lines for a play. Journals and diaries filled with debate, as to whether you stay or bolt. But now was as good a time as any, and you knew in your mind what the right thing to do was. You can’t risk getting in the car accident if you step out of the vehicle. 

“Did I do something?” JJ then asks, his voice weak, naked. You meet his gaze and shake your head firmly. 

“No,” you breathe, “no, you ain’t do nothing, JJ.”

“Then I don’t get it,” he repeats, stronger this time. Frustrated. You knew none of this would be easy. 

“Look,” you cut yourself off with a sigh. You shuffle your crossed legs, sitting on JJ’s bed in the Chateau in a way that you never have before, as if you’ve never stepped foot inside his life. “My parents are heading to Charleston for a couple months anyway, to stay with my grandmother and help look after her, and…well, maybe it’s for the better, that we have this distance sooner rather than later.”

“Distance?”

“You’ve been removed, JJ,” you mumble, hoping not to sound accusatory. “And that’s okay, I know you’re busy. I mean, you told me from the start that you don’t do the whole relationship-thing. But I don’t think I can stay, not right now.”

“Okay, is this some kinda joke?” JJ snaps. He gets to his feet and paces a few steps in the small throughway of his bedroom. Taking off his hat, JJ rakes his fingers through his hair. He looks at you, eyes fiery, expression hard as if to shield from the hurt that you don’t mean to cause. “What the fuck are you even talking about? I thought we were fine.”

“We are fine,” you insist. Sighing, you try and find the best way to explain yourself without giving it all away. “Look, I ain’t meaning that you’re a bad guy or that you’re damaged or anything like that. I don’t think that, not at all. But…How can I explain this?”

JJ takes a moment or two to calm himself as you hang your head and clench your eyes, searching for the perfect turn of phrase to make your thought process make sense. You find it. Lift your head, soften your gaze at the hurt on his face, and try your best to smile through the sorrow. This wasn’t easy for you either. 

“You know when you see a tornado?”

He stares at you for a short while before nodding, urging you to continue. 

“Things that like…They’re always so pretty for afar. So mesmerising, how nature can create something like that. Stunning, really. Epic. But then, you get too close, and you get sucked in. And it’s just chaos and there’s no way out of it without being broken.”

JJ nods again, pursing his lips. 

“I think that’s what might happen here,” you whisper. “If I stick around.”

“I don’t get it. You’re saying I’m gonna break you?”

“No, I’m saying…I’m saying you’re not in a spot right now to give me what I need. That ain’t your fault, JJ, but I can’t let myself stay knowing that I’m gonna have my heartbroken. I wish I could - I wish I could just wing-it like that - but I can’t.”

There’s a pregnant pause that JJ drags out, staring at you as if trying to see into your head, searching for some lie. Sighing, he must come up empty, as he takes the spot beside you on the bed again. You test the waters, leaning against his chest, feeling the warmth radiate through his t-shirt. One of his hands lifts and strokes your hair, smoothing it down. 

“I really do care ‘bout you, y’know? Like, that ain’t fake,” JJ admits in a hushed tone. 

“I know, JJ,” you reply, just as soundless. “I just think you gotta figure yourself out before you can…”

“...love you?” JJ hesitantly whispers, after you lose nerve. Your eyes squeeze shut. 

“Mhm.”

“You can’t love me ‘til then, either?”

Laughing sadly, you shake your head against him. He really couldn’t tell how much you’d fallen for him already, could he? “I don’t think you gotta worry ‘bout that ever, JJ.”

A soft kiss is planted on your forehead. “So…Just gotta do some soul searchin’, huh?”

“Somethin’ like that,” you hum. “But hey, I tell you what.”

You break apart from the comfort of his hold, tilting your head so you can look up, into his eyes. The pain in JJ’s gaze tears you like wrapping paper, and it’s worse to know it’s your fault, but you know that it’s the only way to save you both from further pain. It isn’t the right time, and that’s a shame, and it isn’t fair, since you’ve memorised the outline of him and drawn him into all your plans and daydreams. But you can hear it when you talk and feel it when you sleep together, this detachment, this removal of himself, that can’t come until he’s healed in a way that he’s far away from now. There’s something pulling him away from you, an adventure of sorts, and you don’t want to keep him from it. You want JJ to love you but you want him to choose you, too. And until then, you don’t have it in yourself to sit around on the sidelines, waiting for your heart to be broken. It’s like sitting a toddler in front of a plate of chocolate chip cookies but demanding them not to touch; the temptation might just kill you. 

“What?” JJ gently prompts, bringing you back from your thoughts. 

Your smile is sick with inner lamentation. “If you do figure yourself out, after some soul searchin’ and all that, then chances are I’ll still be here. So, I guess, if you ever feel like fallin’ then lemme know. You can catch me on the way down.”

JJ’s smile is beautiful, even when his eyes are wet with unshed tears. You lean up and press a fleeting kiss to his lips, but you don’t let yourself linger. If you do, you’re afraid you’ll never leave. You murmur some sort of goodbye, making an excuse that you should get going, and JJ doesn’t argue. He watches you as you stand, waves farewell with two-fingers as you leave, and you walk home with your heart halfway broken but more whole than it might’ve been if you stayed and tried to make this impossible thing work. JJ wasn’t ready to fall in love, not yet, but you already had. 

Ham and Cheese Sandwiches  

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I promise,” you reply to Mark, smiling reassuringly. You wonder if it looks like a grimace. It feels like one. Even touching him makes you want to cry, as you brush your hand atop of his on the table. Your feigned food poisoning was two days ago now but Mark was still worried for your health, likely because you were still acting so withdrawn and drained. It’s hard to sleep when you’re consumed by guilt and confusion. “Why don’t you see if Nancy needs a hand in the kitchen, yeah? I can work on the inventory out here.”

“You sure? I don’t mind helping.”

“I’m sure,” you nod. “I can come get you if I need anything.”

“You better,” he grins. He dips his head and kisses you and it takes everything inside of you not to pull away like a flinch. It’s not him. It’s you. You feel like you’re poison. Like JJ’s kiss has infected you and you can’t get Mark sick too. His brown curls bounce as he walks back to the building. You busy your mind with counting tins of soup. The Stirring Spoon had never had so many posters, so many new recipes, with how much you’d been trying to keep yourself busy. You picked up extra shifts at the Smoothie Shop to avoid Mark during the daytime, and you submerged yourself in your voluntary-planning work and ‘early nights’ to avoid him during the night. It wasn’t fair to him but you didn't know what else to do. 

Well, that’s a lie. You know exactly what you should do, but denial is so much easier. 

Ducking down, you grab another box of leftover soup from a local supermarket. They’d recently changed providers and all the old stuff had to go. You were thinking of making toasted sandwiches with soup. Grunting, you lift the box onto the table. The sun beats down on you as if the universe is punishing you. Good, it’s the least I deserve. 

You can spot him anywhere, even blind. He’s in the far corner carrying a smaller box than usual, compared to his crate. A sudden wave of panic comes over you and you speed walk over to him. He frowns as you approach. 

“You good? Hey!” 

You grab his arm and drag him out of sight from the field, behind an overgrown bush. “W hat are you doing here?” you hiss. 

“Bringing sandwiches?” he replies, as if it should be obvious. “Are you okay?”

“JJ, you can’t be here,” you snap. “Mark is literally in the other building!”

“So?” 

“So? Do you…Do you not remember what happened the other night?” you ask, calming down slightly. 

JJ sighs and puts the box down on the floor. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he shrugs. “Look, clearly you spun out. I ain’t gonna mention it if you don’t want me to.”

“Wait…Really?”

“Jesus Christ, I ain’t a homewrecker,” JJ chuckles, trying to lighten the mood. You want to crack a smile but you think your face might be permanently stitched in perpetual concern forever. His laughter dies. “Listen, I think you got some stuff to figure out, a’right?”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t get offended! I’m jus’ saying…” JJ cuts himself of with a sigh and brushes a hand through his hair. He pinches the bridge of his nose. You missed all his little ticks and quirks. “Look, don’t kill me for sayin’ this, I’m just tryin’ to be honest. I don’t think Mark’s the right guy for you.”

“I-”

“I’m sorry, a’right? I don’t think you want to admit it either but…I think you gotta be honest. You don’t love him, okay? And that’s a’right, I’m not saying he’s a bad guy. I just think you need to make a choice.”

“What does that mean? A choice?” you quietly ask, terrified for his answer. 

His smile is sad as JJ shrugs. “I was an idiot to lose you once, I ain’t gonna lose you again - not if I can help it. If Mark’s who you want - if Mark makes you feel like you’re living - then I’ll never bring it up again. Hell, I’ll stay away from you forever, if you want. Least, I’ll try to. I don’t know if I can be held accountable for when I’m drunk but- look, now I’m getting side tracked. The point is:”, JJ speaks with his hands,  “if Mark isn’t the one for you…I’m here to catch you, y’know?”

You blink at JJ and blink away the tears. You’re not sure if you can form words right now, not even sure what words they would be, so you try your best to nod. JJ tries another smile. 

“There’s some sandwiches from Kie and Sarah for today. I hope it all goes okay. Just…lemme know. Or don’t, y’know? Either way,” he trails off with a shrug. You feel cemented into the dirt as JJ backs away. Then he’s gone. Your eyes slip shut. Some weird hybrid of JJ and Mark’s faces fill your thoughts. 

‘If you ever feel like fallin’ then let me know. You can catch me on the way down.’ 

‘I’m here to catch you.’ 

You need to figure this out and fast. It wasn’t fair to anybody, not even yourself. Dragging things out doesn’t make it any easier, it only delays the inevitable, like tediously inching a bandaid off the skin. Sometimes you just have to rip. You just have to prepare for the aftermath.

How ironic, how when you were sixteen it was you waiting for JJ to figure himself out, and now it’s your turn. It’s a shame you were never all that much of a fan of irony. 

Cinnamon Buns 

Baking is therapeutic. The precision of weighing out the ingredients; the cathartic relief from beating together butter and sugar until fluffy like clouds; the tapping and cracking of eggs; the rhythmic folding of flour; the soon-to-arrive reward for your labour. You like baking when life gets stressful. Few things are so systematic, so simple, so quick to resolve, as baking. Life is more complicated than that. 

Mark and JJ. Two sides of different coins. Neither good, nor bad. Human, just like you. 

As you prepare the batter for cinnamon buns, you try to make sense of everything. Figure yourself out, as JJ had put it. 

Mark was designed to be easy to fall in love with. It was as if the universe had a recipe for him, everything the girls crave, the people fawn over in romance novels, the parents pray for in their child’s partner. Responsible; caring; thoughtful; kind; secure; safe. Mark was good. There was no other way to put it. Hell, you met him at a voluntary community kitchen. He gave you stability like a white picket fence. Perfect and practised, like he’d been waiting for that his whole life. But you found yourself restless in the fairytale. Found yourself itching for change, for chaos, for clutter. He was sentimental in a way you weren’t. That wasn’t to say you were heartless - the two of you just loved differently. 

JJ Maybank? He wasn’t designed for it in the same way, but it was impossible to not fall in love with him. You knew it from the moment your paths crossed, back when you were sixteen and the two of you tumbled through two months together. That’s why you left in the first place. To save yourself from the inevitable heartbreak that it would bring, because sixteen-year-old JJ was in no place to commit to anybody. You assumed that with time your feelings would fade away and when you met Mark, you believed they had. You liked Mark - that wasn’t false - and you had feelings for Mark. But the love you had for JJ didn’t vanish. Like energy, it could only be transferred. It went into the back of your mind as if in hibernation but the moment JJ waltzed back into your world, it was awake. It was impossible to ignore. 

Mark was the netting beneath a trapeze artist, but JJ was the acrobat. Mark was the emergency brake in a racing car, but JJ was the driver. But JJ was safety too. He made you feel safe, but he also made you feel alive. 

And you wanted to feel alive. 

Mark was routine. He was predictable. You could see the next five, ten, twenty years of your life laid out nice and neat with Mark. But did you want that? Did you want to give up the adventure? The chaos? The things you missed so desperately. 

As you drizzle the topping on top of the cinnamon buns, you summarise your scrambled thoughts into one neat realisation: you wouldn’t have kissed JJ if you truly wanted Mark. 

Your heart feels like it’s in your throat as you walk to Mark’s house. The buns sit neat in the tupperware and you’re careful not to shake them. His door looks like a tombstone as you knock on it. There’s a noise from inside and the door opens. Mark smiles down at you. He’s dressed in a baby-blue waffle sweater and it’s so undeniably, so wonderfully him. 

“Hey!” he grins. 

“Can I come in?” you ask. It sounds ridiculous asking that when you used to sleep in this house almost daily. 

“Course,” Mark replies. He opens the door further and you slip inside. It shuts behind you. You place the tupperware on the countertop, taking too much time in letting go. “You alright?”

“Mhm. I just…I think we should talk about some stuff,” you say, feeling your voice losing power. 

“Alright. Come, sit,” he urges. You do as he asks and take the spot on the bed beside him, leaving a gap. “What’s up?”

You fumble your fingers together and stare intensely at your hands, racking your mind for the words, for where to start. You’d practised this so many times in the mirror. Childish. 

“I did something and I need to tell you, because you’ve always been so good to me, and so honest with me, and it isn’t fair to hoodwink you.”

“Okay,” Mark faintly replies. 

You take a steady breath in. Mark is good. He deserves the truth. “I went to see JJ last week, and one thing led to another, and we kissed.”

For a moment, there’s nothing. Just the sounds of the air conditioning unit humming as white noise. Then, 

“Oh.”

You clench your eyes shut before looking up at him. He’s detached in his expression. Your eyes fill with tears. “I’m so sorry, Mark,” you whisper, scared your voice will break if you talk any louder. He meets your gaze. “You don’t deserve that. You don’t deserve to be treated that way. You’re such a good, genuine person. I just…I don’t know why, but I just…I can’t love you.”

Mark swallows thickly. The tears are warm and sticky on your cheeks. It’s so selfish to cry when you’re the one who threw the punches. You hang your head with shame and watch the teardrops land on your restless hands.

“I swear I didn’t plan it. I didn’t even know I still had feelings for JJ until…Well, until then.”

“I did.”

Your head snaps up. He’s staring at you, but he doesn’t look angry. No. There’s a shadow of a smile on his lips. A sad smile, no doubt, but a smile nonetheless. 

“You did?”

“The minute you saw him, that Wednesday at the start of the month. I saw it on your face, clear as day. You never used to look at me like that.”

“Mark–”

“--That’s okay,” he nods. He’s crying too, now, and you’re not sure what to think, what to do. But Mark does. Of course, he does. His hands reach out to hold yours, warm in his clutch, and you blubber like a petulant child. “You’re not a bad person, Y/N. I could tell something was bothering you this past week.”

“I just didn’t know how to tell you, and I didn’t even know what it meant. But I have to be honest for the both of us, and I don’t…I don’t think I’m the girl you’re looking for, Mark,” you say through your tears. 

Mark smiles solemnly and nods once. The squeeze of your hands tells you everything. I know. I agree. It’s okay. 

“Do you hate me?” you ask in a moment of pure patheticness. Mark laughs and shakes his head. 

“You’re too pretty to hate.”

“Ugh! You can’t say things like that!” you whine, throwing your head back. He laughs again, soggy with his sorrow, and he shrugs. 

“Just got to keep my good-guy rep up.”

Laughing, you shake your head at him and smile. The two of you share a breath and he nods. A conclusion. His smile dwindles. 

“I’m gonna need time, though…Before we can be friends, maybe. Just to…You know…”

“Of course,” you whisper. “I understand. Whatever you want, whatever you need. It’s all on your terms, I promise.”

Mark nods. Thanks you. It is so fucking bizarre to have the man you cheated on thank you but here we are. Life is full of strangeness. 

“Can I give you a hug?” you wonder. Chuckling, he nods, and you waste no time in throwing your arms around his shoulders. Mark holds you in the embrace and the two of you savour the feeling of one another for one last time. Against his shoulder, you murmur, “I’m going to miss you, Mark.”

“I’m going to miss you too,” he tells you into your collarbone. “JJ’s a lucky guy. But make sure to tell him I know where he lives if he hurts you.”

You tearfully giggle against him. “I’ll pass on the message.”

Bacon Sandwiches

It’s warm today; bright and brilliant. The critters are happy, chirping in the trees, croaking in the overgrowth by the water of the marsh that lines the Pogue’s house. Your footsteps feel heavy as you walk up the driveway, anticipating weighing you down. You lift a hand to shield your eyes from the sunlight and make out JJ. He’s at the entrance to the shop, stood a few rungs up a free-standing ladder. He’s trying to staple something to the walls - a banner of some kind - and you make your way over. 

“Need a hand?”

He jumps and you cringe. Oops. JJ looks down at you and his lips quirk at the corners. The muscle tee he wears is grey and hangs loose on his well-kept frame. He’s armed with a staple gun. “Yo. What’re you doing here?”

“Want a hand?” you repeat, nodding up at the banner, not quite ready to confess. JJ shrugs and nods. 

“Sure. Thanks.” 

You glance around and find something that looks sturdy enough to stand on. Dragging it over, you boost yourself up and hold out your hand to take the other side of the banner. Holding it up against the wall, JJ leans forward and steadies himself with an elbow on the wooden panelling. 

“We’re selling bacon sandwiches on weekends now, so thought we oughta advertise it, y’know? So, anyway, what’re you–” a grunt and a click of the staple gun, “-doing here?”

You step down from your boost and JJ takes your place. You don’t speak, stalling time, as JJ secures the banner. Sighing, taking it in, nodding with contentment, JJ jumps down and ditches the gun. The he stands with his hands on his hips and looks at you, shrugging again. 

“I, uh…I needed to talk you,” you say, clearing your throat. 

“A’right. What about?”

“Just like…” You rock your head back, take a breath, and steel yourself. Somewhere in that split second, you find a new mantra. JJ is good. JJ is good for me. I’m good for JJ. We’re good for each other. Smiling, you look at him again. “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?” he mumbles. 

There’s a playfulness, a teasing, as you shrug. “That you’ll catch me.”

You can see the words as they process through his head. See the moment he tracks the meaning, parses it altogether. A smile, beautiful and brimming, greets you, and then JJ crosses the gap between you in two large strides. He wraps his arms around you and lifts you up in an embrace. He swings you around for good measure and you laugh, looping your arms around his shoulders, holding him close, smiling against him. This is good. 

“You mean it?”

“I mean it,” you whisper in reply. He carefully reunites you with the ground. You smile up at JJ, gazing into his blue eyes, bathing in their depths. Your hand strokes along his jaw, slides down his front until it rests just above his heart. “It was always you, JJ.”

“You think…You think you can love me now?” he nervously asks. 

You shake your head with a silent laugh. It feels like breathing, like you’re finally free, as you admit, “I’ve always loved you.”

It comes and goes like a comet; the flash of shock in his eyes; the glow of his smile; the burning passion of his lips on yours. And as you kiss JJ, without guilt, without fear, you finally feel at home. When you break apart, short of air, JJ rests his forehead against yours. His thumb smooths along the soft line of your jaw and you smile. He takes a small breathe, shaky, unsure, but JJ's words are sure like bedrock.

"I love you too."

[starseungs]

take a shot. ksm.

kim seungmin x fem!reader — it really shouldn't take a genius to figure out that you and your co-star didn't get along. you knew kim seungmin. you knew how life functioned despite the cameras. and you knew that it was harder to keep a good shot hidden than it was to delete a bad one.

genre/s — drama, angst, fluff, a sprinkle of comedy, actors au, enemies to lovers, slowburn • 19.4k words

warning/s — y/n gets referred to with she/her pronouns, profanity, implied death taken lightly (humor purposes), miscommunication to too much communication, y/n easily gets into a bad headspace, inaccurate depictions of filming a movie, the angst is strong = the fluff is strong, other idols are mentioned as characters along with skz members, mentions of alcohol in a scene

note — my longest fic yet !! it also took me so long to finish this (like three weeks i believe) and there were some struggles that happened in the making of this, but it turned out to be my most favorite work ive done ever. thank you for the people who patiently waited for this since the teaser, and remember that reblogs & feedbacks are greatly appreciated 🫶 i hope you enjoy the read !!

2024 ⓒ starseungs on tumblr. do not steal, repost, or edit.

00 : ZERO.

“I’m sorry, what?”

The car remained silent despite your words of confusion. You felt as though your world had come to an extreme halt, giving you a whiplash as the buzz of the road outside continued to pierce through your ears. There was nothing else to keep your mind away from the absolute bomb of news that was just given to you; your manager had turned it down before uttering the horrid sentence that brought your untimely demise.

The car may have kept on with its task of moving forward—but you were stuck frozen in place.

“You’re joking.”

Your world fell on seemingly deaf ears. The man up front, steering the wheel, rendered himself mute to your growing distress, finding the busy traffic of city life interesting enough to keep his eyes glued. But the urban chaos didn’t distract you one bit from brewing a storm of gunpowder inside your throat.

And just like that, a ghost of a click was heard.

“No—please tell me you’re joking,” you voiced out, tone betraying your attempts at keeping things respectful. It soon came to your attention that the effort was of no use, as your manager still chose to keep his peace. “Changbin!”

The car swiveled a bit off-lane for a second before returning to its correct course. Normally, such an abrupt action by a vehicle would concern you, as you would argue that you were still much too young to suffer at the hands of a road accident, but no such thoughts even made their way into your brain. Just like how time had stopped for you, there was no time for debating over survival either. One life-or-death situation was already enough for you.

You wanted answers, and you were going to get them.

Changbin exhaled audibly from the scare he just put both of you through. His hands shook with a slight tremor, and that was all it took for him to decide that pulling over to the nearest parking area was for the best.

“Don’t yell in the car like that!” You scoffed at his scolding, finding the whole situation ironic.

“Oh, so you can do it all the time, but I can’t?” You shot back. Changbin sighed tiredly, finally registering the extent of your agitation. "Plus, I have a perfectly good reason why I’m yelling!”

“Listen, Y/N, it’s really not that bad—”

“Yes, it is that bad!” The words spill out of your mouth in utter disbelief at his attempts at assurance. “I’m working with Kim Seungmin, of all people!”

“And that’s why it’d be fine!” Changbin argued, running a hand through his already tousled hair. You blinked at his reply, baffled by the sheer implication.

“—How?”

Changbin clicked his tongue at the question, finding it hard to digest just why you were so against working with the mentioned actor. With the mere sound of that actor’s name spat out of your mouth, one would think that he had somehow managed to offend your entire bloodline. But that kind of bitterness could only be achieved through a sour history, so you really couldn’t empathize with your manager’s mindset either.

Even you knew that this movie would be enormously successful from the director alone. Director Han Jisung’s influence and presence in the industry were not a laughing matter—in fact, you should already be trembling in anxiety just knowing that you snagged probably the biggest role you’d ever get in your whole career. He was only around the same age as you, but the winding list of his achievements was already one for the records. And yet, here you were rethinking your contract with him even before the project started.

Just because of who you were going to be acting alongside with.

“Seungmin is a nice person,” Changbin explained gently like he was coaxing a child, intentionally ignoring the way your face scrunched up at what he said. “I did my research, ok? Everyone only has high praises for him, both on and off-set. Isn’t that enough to be trusted?”

You bit your tongue to stop yourself from digging a deeper hole to lie in. The answer was no—it wasn’t enough to be trusted. Now, at this point, someone would’ve had half a mind to ask why you were so sure about your vendetta against the man. If a person was so well loved in a world where cameras were pointed at them in every waking minute, then shouldn’t all the dirt be found by now, if there was any?

To that, your answer would be yet another no.

Because you knew Kim Seungmin. You knew how life functioned despite the cameras. And you knew that it was harder to keep a good shot hidden than it was to delete a bad one.

“Turn the car around.”

Changbin’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets at your demand. Surely, he had heard you now. You crossed your arms and leaned back to rest comfortably on the car seat, turning your head to face the window and glare at the world outside, continuing on with their lives like a well-followed routine.

“Y/N, this is a big opportunity—”

“I said, turn the car around. I’m not attending this cursed table reading.” You pinched the bridge of your nose to keep the incoming migraine at bay.

“You really think I’ll willingly step into a room with the devil’s incarnate? I’d rather get shot—”

01 : ONE.

“—sensing a great shot!”

Director Han Jisung nodded positively at your performance, satisfied with your initial portrayal of the female lead.

“If we keep going like this, then I’m expecting this project to be a big hit. The casting team really did their pay’s worth on this one,” the young director hummed. “Especially you, Actor Kim Seungmin. I don’t know how they managed to get through your company's walls, but I’m glad they did. You’re perfect for the role!”

You felt your eye twitch as the figure bearing the name appeared within your vision. His mouth curled up into an arrogant smirk, hastily covered up by a bashful smile. You cringed at his actions that only you seemed to see. Why was this prick acting all humble?

“Ah, I always wanted to act in one of your films, Director Han. This is more of an amazing opportunity for me than you, honestly.”

That smoothed honey voice wrapped itself around the room’s premise, charming everyone around like it was coming from an alluring siren. All except you.

Your mouth filled with a coating of spite as his next sentence echoed through your ears. His eyes locked you in as a target, a wordless challenge shooting straight at your own.

“Plus, seeing who my co-star is, I’m quite thrilled to see the end product,” Seungmin grinned with a manic glint.

Fuck. You should’ve turned that damned car around yourself. Maybe then you’d be enjoying a relaxing time in the tub, surrounded by bubbling suds of fragrant soap, instead of being a frontliner in this mental war your acting counterpart seemed to subject yourselves to. Now, you had to withstand the feeling of your body instantly going on auto-pilot after his words.

It was commendable, really—how Seungmin could take over a space of this size filled with various types of people so easily. He had major talent in that field, which greatly accentuated his acting power. Seungmin had a way with words, and while you would never be caught praising him out loud, you couldn’t help but acknowledge the bitter truth deep inside the darkest parts of your brain. It was almost obsessive, the way your mind zeroed in on his presence. Even as you let the busy table chatter away into a buzzing noise that barely made its way coherently through your ears, your eyes stayed glued to the figure in front of you, carefully studying his mannerisms as he enthusiastically interacted with everyone. You weren’t someone who Seungmin’s charms would work on—instead, you felt like prey, waiting to be pounced on any second now.

Before you knew it, the table reading came to a close. You could faintly remember standing and packing your things quietly, more focused on the sudden stinging feeling you felt coming from your eyes, already threatening to water. “This is ridiculous,” you huffed in frustration. Why did you feel the need to cry like a child at this very moment?

“With the way your script is being shoved in that tiny bag, yeah, I would say that too.”

“Leave me alone, Kim.”

You hear him chuckle, causing your grip on your leather bag’s opening to become tighter, feeling the metal zipper bite at your palm. “There’s a lot of Kims here, Y/N. Be careful now; they might mistake you for being rude to them,” he chirps. Fucking chirps. Like a small bird who deserves to be doted on. Except the man before you was neither small nor deserved to be doted on—Kim Seungmin would never be described in any of those words in your world.

“Right. Since they’re also talking to me right now,” you scoffed back. Thankfully, that seemed to keep the tears at bay for now. You refused to break down in front of the most infuriating man in your life.

“Still stuck up as ever,” he sighs. Your eyes almost popped out of their sockets at his comment. You? Stuck up? If anything, that would be him! “This would be our first piece together after that charity drama our acting academy did way back a few years ago, so would it kill you to be civil?”

Ah. There it was. The infamous acting academy.

JYP Academy of Theatrics was admittedly one of the most successful acting academies in the country, known for producing many big name acts throughout its years of operation. Every aspiring actor has probably gone through the phase of wanting to be part of the academy’s carefully limited population of trainees—you included.

You remember the first time you brought up your plans on becoming an actress to your parents; their apprehensive faces telling you to try going to an acting academy first before giving up everything and running towards your dream blind. Young you didn’t realize the underlying implication that your parents were expecting you to be discouraged and give up on your thoughts of becoming an actress for good. Instead, you aimed high with the thoughts of their support, confidently applying for JYP Academy.

To your parents’ surprise, you passed both rounds of the screening, becoming a full-fledged acting academy trainee at one of the most prestigious places for it. It was also where you met the thorn in your life that was standing before you at the present.

“And frankly, I’m looking forward to this. So can we not ruin the mood on set?” He had the nerve to add. That was all you needed for your last string of restraint to snap.

“Why? So you could enjoy the power trip of watching me fumble around like a headless chicken after getting scolded a thousand times for my horrible acting skills?”

“What?”

You watched as Seungmin’s face morphed from exhaustion into a look of confusion at what you had just said. However, you knew better than to give him the benefit of the doubt—so you continued to shoot your bullets at him.

“I know you, Kim Seungmin,” you motioned towards him. “Don’t you dare think I’ve forgotten your days at the acting academy, especially that damned charity drama. But consider yourself lucky, since I won’t drag your ass down this time, Golden Boy. In fact, watch me shine on set even if it’s against your will or whatever is going on in that ego of yours, because I refuse to bow down to you. Things may have been different seven years ago, but I’ve grown since then. So if you want to prove to me that you have to, then know how to keep your mouth to yourself around me.”

After your little round of firing the pent-up rage inside of you, you snatched your bag from the table and stormed out of the room without another word. You had half the mind to worry if anyone had heard your little squabble with Seungmin, but you were already too far down the hall to go back and check, risking a blow to your conscience if ever you tried to go back. You only had the fact that you had managed to keep your voice surprisingly low throughout the whole exchange to console you.

With this, you continued your trek towards the parking lot to meet your manager once again—blissfully unaware of the state in which you left your co-star back in the room.

“What the fuck just happened?”

It took everything in Seungmin to not march after you and demand an explanation for what you had just said to him. In all honesty, Seungmin was baffled. Out of all the possible scenarios he had imagined to happen when meeting you, this was definitely not one of them. Sure, you two weren’t exactly the best of friends way back in your academy years, but he had at least considered you an acquaintance.

Even then, he didn’t remember your relationship being this bad. For all the times the both of you clashed heads, he couldn’t recall a single time serious bad blood was developed. The memory of you laughing joyfully as he messed up a line in your shared scene together on a monthly evaluation was still fresh in his memories—so just where did this hostility come from? If he were to base his conclusion off your words earlier, then it must have something to do with the charity drama, and that only made Seungmin more lost.

What you said earlier did hold some truth to them—you were scolded a lot by their advisor, slash project director, but in no way did you do badly in the production. Seungmin could testify to that. After all, he was witness to the amount of praise you got from fellow trainees as they watched you act out your scenes on camera, even though his younger counterpart was jealous of all the positive feedback. So now, he really couldn’t understand where your deep-rooted bitterness towards him came from. He even gave you some tips during the times you seemingly struggled with their advisor’s vision!

“Seungmin?”

He turned over to where his name was just called, seeing his manager approach him while bowing politely towards the small number of production staff left in the room. “Oh, did I take too long, Minho?”

“Yeah, but it’s alright. I knew you were going to catch up with a friend,” Minho looked around for a bit before continuing, “Speaking of which, did she go already?” Seungmin couldn’t stop himself from clicking his tongue at his manager’s words.

“It’s a long story.”

Well, two can play that game. If you truly knew him like you said you did, then you would know that Kim Seungmin isn’t one to give up when he sets his mind to something.

02 : TWO.

You wanted to give up right at this very moment.

Today was the first day of filming for the movie you were cast in as the female lead, yet here you were, one push away from having a mental breakdown. It was your first lead role—one that you had wished on countless stars to get ever since signing a contract with your current agency. Yet, now that you actually have it, you were left unsure of whether your acting could do proper justice to the character given to you. The confidence you flared towards Kim Seungmin a few days ago was nowhere to be found right now as anxious thoughts swirled through your head instead.

When you first read the script as one of your manager’s proposals for your next project, you instantly felt like the female lead’s role spoke to you the most. The plot itself was a masterpiece, clearly right up Director Han’s alley with its sentimental undertone and themes of self-discovery. It followed the male lead, returning back to his hometown for a high school reunion after just deciding to quit his job at a well-known corporation in the city. At the reunion, he meets the female lead, whom he remembers having the biggest crush on back in his teenage years—before he moved to the city for college.

In comparison, the female lead never left their homey countryside town. She attended the nearby community college and also settled her adult life in the same area. However, that didn’t mean that what she had achieved was all she wanted to do in life. Like everyone else, she too, had her own dreams. Unfortunately, she lacked confidence in herself to chase opportunities and got stuck right where her starting line was.

And in a way, she spoke to you.

You didn’t want to admit it, but perhaps you regret running your mouth like that at your co-star during the table read. It was a moment of weakness, you tried to tell yourself. Emotional you talked too big for what you could handle, so now you were left here to deal with the consequences of your actions.

But lies had their truths too.

It was true that you wanted to shine on set—outshining Kim Seungmin was just an added bonus to the thought. You’ve spent far too long in others’ shadows, never really feeling like you had the chance to show your fullest potential. That was something you fought for constantly, starting from your days at the academy up until the present, only to have no such luck. Maybe that was why you developed a habit of becoming pessimistic at the worst times, becoming your own enemy as you fall into a pit of self-sabotage, effectively going against everything you’ve ever wished for yourself. It was a cycle of keeping yourself confused with your own decisions, and it was a frustrating process.

You could only stare from the actors’ corner on the site as you watched the crew members run around making final arrangements for today’s shoot. Normally, you wouldn’t have seen this part of the process, as actors would often arrive later on when everything was nearly set, during their actual call time. You just intentionally went early, deciding that you weren’t going to get any more sleep even if you tried, seeing as most of the previous night was spent trying to make sure you had your lines all perfected. Sleep came rough yesterday, and you had no one else to blame but your own nerves.

At least the set looked great—today you were filming all the scenes needed for the high school reunion. The place was this quaint function hall in a small town about seven hours from the capital city, the same town you would be staying in to shoot for a little less than a week. You couldn’t help but think that maybe the new environment contributed more towards your slowly diminishing confidence, feeling yourself too far away from the strong presence of individualistic urban life. A defeated sigh was all you could do in attempt to ease yourself, even the slightest.

“I’m beginning to think this is going to become a pattern,” you hear a familiar toned voice comment. “Meeting you distressed, I mean.”

You spare the figure a half-hearted glance before rolling your eyes, forcing out an appropriate greeting. Or what was appropriate in your books, anyway.

“Oh, it’s you.”

Seungmin’s face displayed his feelings of amusement, which in turn made your frown deepen. “Not even a good afternoon? That’s harsh of you, Y/N,” he says in a tone made for mockery. “You really don’t like seeing my face, huh?”

“More like, I just don’t like you, period,” you grumbled in annoyance. “Also, why are you even here this early?”

Your surprise at his punctuality was real; you were not expecting to see him on set three hours early. But maybe you should have foreseen this behavior, seeing as the Seungmin you knew back then was also one to be on time during all lessons, activities, and practices. A part of you was then thankful for the question coming off as general because if you added any more comparisons, it would’ve seemed like you held on to too much information on him from the past.

“Just because I’m the main character doesn’t mean I should be fashionably late. Would it tick you off to know that I like being punctual with things?”

“Yeah,” was your immediate reply, not needing to think about it any further. “Since now, I have to time myself to arrive just before the call time.”

Seungmin lets out a deep sigh at your words. “You don’t want to spend any more time with me than necessary, got it.” He says, then lifting a finger up to tap against his ear. “But you know, you should really learn to keep your plans away from enemy ears.”

You tried your best not to show the inner war that just sparked inside of your head—you really shouldn’t have found that small gesture attractive, but the romantic side in you swooned so easily against your will. And for what? Kim Seungmin, of all people? You really should tone down all the enemies-to-lovers content you were consuming, because this was the last thing you wanted to happen. Real life just doesn’t play out like that.

Giving him some slack and perhaps a half-assed attempt at reverse psychology, you replied with a tired tone. “I’ll agree with you on that one, so you may walk away now, Kim.”

Except that Seungmin didn’t seem to catch the memo.

“Says the one who keeps talking,” he snarks at you. “For someone who told me to keep my mouth to myself around you, you’re the one who keeps the conversation flowing.”

You rolled your eyes for the second time since starting this conversation. At this point, you were convinced that Kim Seungmin was on a mission to dislocate it. “You just have to win everything, do you?”

“It’s my charm, I suppose.”

“And I disagree. The only charm you have is that mouth of yours you use to manipulate everyone around you.”

That seemed to snap something within Seungmin. “What the hell did I ever do to you?” He spits out furiously. “I would’ve already sued you for defamation if you acted like this around everyone else, so you should be thankful that I’m being tolerant of your attitude right now.”

“Thankful? Why would I be thankful?” Was your baffled response. “You know, I’m starting to believe that you don’t remember what you put me through all those years ago at all, and it’s only making me more upset that you seem to hold no remorse whatsoever.”

“If it’s that bad, then go ahead and tell me!” Seungmin hissed in an attempt to keep his voice down and not cause a scene. “I don’t have time for this roundabout game you have going on, and honestly, neither should you. We have a high-profile movie to film, and I would never let whatever this is ruin the hard work of a hundred people—so get your head out of your ass and either clench your teeth and save the working environment we have or be a dear and solve this issue with me right now.”

Now you were just barely containing your rage. It was at this point that you realized that Seungmin wasn’t faking anything; and that made it sting a lot more in your already scarred heart. Of course, someone like him wouldn’t understand why you were acting like this. Someone like him, born talented enough to be loved and praised by everyone, would never see the other side that you had to be dragged through—the side that existed all because of people like him, too.

“Fuck you, Kim Seungmin,” you croaked out through tears. “I knew someone like you would never understand.”

And you ran.

“What are—Y/N! Come back here!”

03 : THREE.

“Y/N, where in the world even are you? You need to come back to the actors’ tent right now!”

Changbin’s voice boomed through your phone’s speaker a lot louder than usual, causing you to jerk it away from your ear in pain. Well, you did deserve the scolding—after running off to God knows where in a relatively remote town you didn’t even know, you would be pissed as hell too if you were your manager. What kind of actress just leaves the set without a single thought like that?

“I swear, Y/N. Do not tell me you’re lost because I’m pretty sure I left you somewhere safe the last time I saw you,” you hear Changbin huff on the opposite end. “I can’t believe you told me that you were going to be fine on your own, and I actually trusted you. That’s it! I’m not letting you wander around the set anymore from this point onwards!”

You couldn’t help but find your manager’s rant funny, despite the clear threat being held above your head. “Really? I’m telling you that it’s almost call time, and you’re just laughing. Fine, go on your own soul-searching, or whatever it is you’re doing. I’m telling everyone you left your role to go play hooky—”

Oh, you could only wish. After your little squabble with Seungmin, playing hooky didn’t sound like a bad option. Sadly, you still had a conscience that weighed on you—even more hypersensitive to the people around it with your co-star’s earlier comment of ruining other people’s hard work. You hurriedly shook your head to get rid of the negative thoughts that were starting to plague your head once again, and instead focused on the group of trees that lined the path towards the entrance of the function hall.

“Changbin, I’m fine.”

“Damn right, you should be!” He screeches one last time before calming down. “But in all seriousness, you need to head over here now, or Director Han is going to chew me a new one. He knows my sister, and I don’t want to be berated for not doing my job properly by her of all people.”

You chuckled at the competitiveness in his voice. “Don’t worry, I just took a short walk for fresh air. You know how nervous I was earlier on the way to the set.” Changbin hummed in acknowledgement.

“And on the way to this town in general,” he teases. It didn’t last long, though, since he immediately followed up on your well-being with a soft tone. “Did the walk help? I can get you some hot tea too, if you want.”

“Look at you, finally being a proper manager,” you threw back at him, snickering as offended noises started to pour out of your phone. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll take you up on that tea offer. Plus, I’m just around the corner now.”

Once you saw his figure coming into view, you hung up the call and opted to wave your right arm to catch his attention. Changbin broke out into a frantic sprint towards you the minute he saw you approaching.

“Oh, thank whatever deity there is. You need to head over to the tent right now and—” He suddenly stopped mid-sentence, holding you still at arms length to give you a look of confusion as he scanned your face. “Did you cry? Why are your eyes like that?”

Shoot. You had totally forgotten about that for a second. “Ah,” was all you could muster in a sheepish daze. “It was just to let the nerves out, you know? It’s nothing serious.”

Changbin narrowed his eyes at your excuse, making you hold your breath unintentionally. It felt as though you were being picked apart, trying to find the truth that you desperately wanted to keep hidden. Eventually, the man before you decided to let it be, sending you off with an exhausted wave.

“Hm. Alright, and it’s already going away, so it must’ve just been a light session. Try to blink it out more so that it’s long gone once you step in front of the cameras.”

You silently breathed out a sigh of relief. “Will do. Thanks, Changbin.”

“Stop being a sap and head over to the tent already,” he chuckles before sending you a comforting smile. “Good luck. I’ll just be here.”

A grateful look found its way onto your face as you walked briskly towards the actors’ tent. You should really treat Changbin to dinner after all of this is over, you think to yourself, putting on your game face and entering the enclosed area with a newly steeled heart.

Now, Seungmin wasn’t the type to be overly concerned with others’ business. While he wouldn’t exactly call himself an extreme individualist, he still did have an appreciation for community. You wouldn’t catch him dead in the act of trying to mingle with someone else’s issues if it had nothing to do with him. However, all that seemed to somehow fly out the window whenever it had something to do with you.

To him, you were a person qualified enough to be considered intertwined with his own life. Sure, he hadn’t seen you in person for years, but that still would never be able to erase the fact that you knew him behind the cameras. Actually, even worse.

You knew the person he was before he even took up acting as a career.

Perhaps that was why he was so bothered by the way you were acting with him recently. He doesn’t even recall ever being that hostile to someone since his high school days, and that alone terrified him. It was like he regressed back to the days of his youth whenever he interacted with you—and that did more harm than good. The younger him was full of teen angst that he wanted to bury deep inside the confines of his past, but the animosity you seemed to harbor personally against him made him wonder if he was truly missing important information from that era of you both.

So when he saw you walk into the tent with fading redness evident in your eyes, just right after your small fight with him earlier, he instantly felt a punch in his gut. In all honesty, he wasn’t aiming to make you cry—it just so happened that the spur of the moment was so intense that he spat out things he barely meant. Sure, they still stemmed from the truth of how he felt since he did want to make amends with you, but even he wants to kick himself for the way he worded things so out of pocket. His reaction to the situation was so childish that it would be easier to think he finally went insane from the busy schedules he’s been doing than believe that what he did was a conscious decision. He was supposed to be the mature one at that moment, reaching out to fix the issue.

And yet here he was, feeling like a child in front of you.

He wanted to approach you, apologize for earlier, and maybe another one for whatever stupidity his old self did that was clearly bad enough for his mind to completely block out entirely. If you were reacting this much, it had to be at least somewhat of a traumatizing experience. Seungmin doesn’t think he ever got that bad back then, but everyone had different perspectives—and yes, young him had a tendency to be a prick. He still had friends, though, and no one ever called him in to discuss his behavior, so it wasn’t like he was a bully.

Either way, he felt the need to apologize—and maybe get an apology back, but his legs wouldn’t let him. A part of him knew that if he did approach you at the moment, you might run away again, and it was almost time for the briefing. Instead, he settled on looking at you across the pop-up room, hoping that his silent sentiment was delivered.

Which it was not. At all.

If anything, it added more pressure to whatever nerves you were holding back. Seungmin’s gaze was so piercing to the point that you didn’t even need to turn and look to know that he had his eyes locked on you. What does he want from you now? Oh, right—you two would be filming your scenes together in a matter of about an hour or two. Maybe this was Seungmin’s way of telling you to get your shit together while finally respecting your wishes to be left alone. Improvement is improvement, so you’d leave him alone to do his thing too.

“All right, is everyone here?” A lean man in his mid-twenties walked in, asking everyone inside. There was another person following him, yet seemingly younger. “It seems so. If someone you know is late, just fill them in with the details later.”

The first man lifted up a thick bind of paper, which you quickly recognized as the script. “I’m sure everyone has read their copy of this. My name is Hwang Hyunjin, and I’m the head scriptwriter for this film. Over here to my side is Yang Jeongin, my assistant. We’re here to give you a briefing on how this shoot will go for today since Director Han and Assistant Director Lee are busy with the filming crew as of the moment.”

So they were the ones behind the script. You felt your excitement levels increase as various questions about the story’s making filled your head—but you would save that for another day. Perhaps during the crew dinner after the movie’s filming was completed.

“Today, we’ll be filming one of the first scenes in the movie—the reunion. That’s why there’s a lot of you are here right now, despite the story only really having a few recurring characters. Still, whatever your role is, I hope you take this opportunity with pride. All of you here will be treated as actors for as long as you stand on this set, so have the dignity of one. Whether you have lines or not, what I expect from all of you is your best, and only your best,” Head Scriptwriter Hwang emphasized.

The briefing continued on with the necessary information for the reunion scene, with detailed clarifications and stage directions. If you weren’t locked in on all the information being fed to you, you would’ve had half the mind to acknowledge how strikingly handsome the man was upfront. A few others did, though, and you couldn’t really blame them. The guy could be an actor himself if he wanted to be.

“And I believe that’s all for now,” Head Scriptwriter Hwang clapped his hands in satisfaction. “Hair and makeup will take care of you all for about an hour and a half. I see that some of you already came prepared, so go ahead and touch up yourself if you want to. Main characters, you have your own booths,” he glances towards the stations at the end of the tent.

“You’ll be called up when needed. Actor Kim Seungmin, please get ready first since we need you for the entrance shots. That is all. Good luck.”

Head Scriptwriter Hwang bows politely to all of you before exiting the tent with Assistant Yang. With that, the battlefield begins.

You couldn’t remember much of what was happening other than you being sat down in front of a well-lit mirror and letting yourself become a doll in the hands of the make-up artists. The one assigned to your hair did start a short conversation about your previous works, to which you could only thank her shyly for her support. While you weren’t the most popular actress out there, you were still relatively well-known, with notable works under your belt. Seven years of experience wasn’t something someone could just laugh at, after all.

On the other hand, your co-star was a famous A-lister who was most likely getting paid significantly more than you for his role in this film. You glanced a bit to your right, where Kim Seungmin was happily chatting with his hair and makeup assignees, his voice effortlessly traveling its way over to your spot.

Ever the social butterfly, that one.

“Are you excited?” The woman assigned to your hair, who you learned was named Eunha, asked. You looked at her, startled by the sudden topic change. “Sorry—it’s just that you kept looking over at Actor Kim that it came to mind. He is quite the looker, isn’t he?”

“Oh.”

How should you even respond to that? It wasn’t like you could just go around advertising your personal beef with the man when, as far as you knew, he had a clean record on his plate. That would just be a lawsuit waiting to happen. You’d have to settle for something vague instead. “I guess,” you cringe at the evident pain in your voice.

“I’ve heard from others in the industry that he’s a great guy. You’ll have a blast filming this movie with him. I know it’s a bit awkward right now, but I’m sure you’ll warm up to him soon. After all, you’re both the lead roles.”

You’ll surely have a blast, alright—straight to the ego.

This conversation just gave you the unfriendly reminder that you had to act all lovey-dovey with this man, and if anything, it was triggering some unpleasant memories. By memories, you meant the charity drama from your acting academy days.

Your experience with that project was interesting, to say the least.

It had all started with Seungmin winning the prize of being the drama’s male lead after getting the top spot on the year-end evaluation for the junior level. Along with his prize came the privilege to choose who he would be acting alongside, only to surprise everyone when he chose you, a trainee who barely got recognition and wasn’t even in the top ten of your level. At first, you felt honored. It was like you were finally getting acknowledged, and by the top performer, no less. So you worked hard to do your part properly, wanting to repay Seungmin for his act of kindness; only for that kindness to turn out to be a mockery of you.

The difference in skill between you two was just too wide. Your shortcomings showed far too much, and your mistakes ended up being emphasized to the point that your level advisor became endlessly frustrated with you. First, it was the scolding. The woman clearly did not appreciate you holding back the entire production, especially since it was for a cause, so she would point out every problem in your acting, which quickly took a turn after you showed barely any improvement. Eventually, your advisor started to berate you—going as far as constantly referring to you as the reason the drama would fail. When you tried to raise the concern with her that it was affecting you negatively, she only brushed you off with a comment about how you should know to take constructive criticism this early to succeed in the actual industry.

At eighteen years old, you could only clench your teeth and accept your fate.

Things only got worse when you overheard Seungmin talking to his friends near the vending machines after practice one day—the same day they were talking about you.

“Dude, why did you choose Y/N to be the female lead?” One of Seungmin’s friends, Yeonjun, groaned aloud. “She’s awful at it. What? Do you like her or something?”

Seungmin only shrugged. “Not really,” he said, uninterested. “I just kept seeing her name during level advancements but never saw her doing anything to stand out. If she got this far, then I should give her a chance, no?” Yeonjun pursed his lips at the answer.

“That’s just cruel, man. The witch has it out for her now.”

“Then she can just do better,” Seungmin chuckles, taking a sip from his soda before continuing. “Not my problem anymore. If I do my role well enough, maybe they’ll pay less attention to whatever she’s doing.”

Beomgyu, another friend of his, scoffed. “So, like—you’re basically using her to your advantage.” You watched Seungmin wave him off without a care.

“Stop making it sound so bad like that,” he hums at the thought. “Let’s just say I’m saving her the embarrassment. Like you said, it was my fault she’s getting thrown around like this anyway,” Seungmin continues before tossing his empty can of soda in the trash.

And wow, did you feel like one after hearing that.

Starting from that point onwards, you held a dislike for Kim Seungmin. It did, however, give you enough spite to use as a driving force to do well in the charity drama—eventually climbing up to senior level right beside Seungmin, where you two clashed for the higher ranks before graduating and starting your own careers.

Despite this, the memory of the junior project still stayed ingrained in you, never really managing to fade away like you wanted it to, causing you to struggle in your quest to succeed in the industry. The deprecating thoughts came at the worst times, making you revert back to that eighteen-year-old who kept her tears at bay as the director shouted at her for the nth time.

It was particularly the worst right now.

“Cut! Bad take!”

You snapped your head towards Director Han, who looked so frustrated that he started to resemble a certain someone from the ghosts of your memories. Kim Seungmin was in front of you, his tongue poking at his cheek after hearing the comment. Right, you were at the set—shooting a scene. And you had just failed to say your next line.

“Actress Y/N, you can’t just keep forgetting your lines like this!”

04 : FOUR.

You really can’t go on forgetting your lines like this.

“Y/N.” Changbin sighs heavily. “Seriously, what’s going on?”

It would have been amazing if the gods could hear your plea. Your wish was fairly simple, after all—to be buried six feet under at the moment. To hell with being a popular actress; you wanted nothing more than to disappear right now after that stunt you just pulled. On the first day of filming, no less.

Should you just go dig your own hole instead?

“It won’t happen again,” you softly replied, like a child getting scolded by their mother.

Your manager could only take a deep inhale at your words. “And I believe you, I really do,” he says. “But I can’t just let this go like this.”

Of course, he couldn’t. You would do the same thing in his shoes. Changbin was a manager for an actress—an actress who clearly can’t even manage herself. Your job’s core had a simple description, and that was to act out your lines. Lines that you had to memorize, internalize, and perform. What was the point of having seven years of experience under your belt if you couldn’t even do the basics of your occupation?

“You have to understand, Y/N. It wasn’t just once, or twice, or heck—not even thrice! You had a minimum of five retakes per couple of lines, and that’s already concerning enough for me to have to intervene. Director Han was really disappointed today, and it’s only the first filming. The only reason you’re still coming back on set tomorrow is because, at the end of the day, we managed to get good takes despite the issues. So pray tell, is something wrong?”

The humble inn’s room you were staying in became devoid of sound from your lack of response, making the cicadas outside seem a lot louder than they actually were. Your sitting figure made you look small in front of the man before you, who was pacing across the room in distressed strides. In all honesty, you had nothing to say back to Changbin. As much as you trusted him like your own older brother, explaining your oh-so-stellar performance earlier would entail having to reveal your past with Kim Seungmin, which was the last thing on the list of secrets you wanted to get out. Thus, there was only one solution to your dilemma.

“Can we replace Kim Seungmin?”

Changbin’s jaw slacked. “What—him again?” He laughed humorlessly, completely baffled at your request. “And replace, you say? Y/N, at the rate we’re going, you’re the one in danger of getting replaced!”

Okay, you should’ve expected that. But the sting from your manager’s comment wouldn’t hurt any less, even if you did.

You were well aware of all of your shortcomings as an actress. The seven years you gained in this industry clearly taught you a lot of important lessons, but those same seven years barely did anything to your ability, no matter the amount of effort you desperately poured into your career. It felt like a futile attempt at pouring into a cup that had a big hole at the bottom—knowing you could be filled to the brim with the necessary factors to succeed exponentially, yet still letting everything go down the drain.

Maybe this was the wake up call you needed to acknowledge that you’re the only one holding yourself back. And you had the slight inkling that you knew all along where this whole mess stemmed from.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what, even?” Changbin ran a hand through his already tousled hair. “Look, if you really don’t want to tell me, then fine. I’ll respect your wishes. But you can’t expect me to understand where you’re coming from if I know nothing. Deal with how overbearing I could be, or I don’t know, just keep that in mind.”

“I understand.” You meekly nodded. “Sorry, again. I’ll do better tomorrow.”

With your vague words, Changbin eventually came to the conclusion that you weren’t going to speak about the issue today. Walking towards you, he finally accepted your decision with a light pat on the head. “You don’t have to say that to me, Y/N. Maybe to the crew tomorrow. And Actor Kim Seungmin if you want. Just promise me a better performance tomorrow, and we’ll be good.”

You chuckled dryly. “Yes, I’ll do that.”

“Alright.” Your manager rolled his shoulders back, releasing the tension that built up from his pacing. “I’ll go to my own room now. Get some good rest. You need it after what happened today,” he chuckles.

“Okay, good night.”

You plastered a small smile for him, only letting it drop completely after you heard the door shut. After that, it was just you and your mind, ready to play the most depressing thoughts all through the night to beat you down once again. However, you weren’t going to fall for that today. You had already promised a better performance on filming tomorrow.

And what better ways were there to achieve both than practice until the sun rises?

Well, that surely did it’s work for you because you walked into the set the next day looking like a few years had just shaved off your lifespan. But as long as you could still function well enough to participate in the shoot, then you would consider your little sacrifice worth it.

A certain someone would beg to disagree, though.

Seungmin has never felt more concerned in his life. Just what in the world did you do all night to come out of your room looking like a literal zombie? To make matters worse, no one was even batting an eye at your less-than-ideal state! He watched you get your makeup done from across the tent with a thoughtful expression.

“Is it just me, or did Y/N get no sleep whatsoever?”

Minho cringed at Seungmin’s blunt comment. “Oh, you noticed it too?” He purses his lip, feeling uneasy. “I feel bad for her, but after the mishap from yesterday, I wouldn’t be surprised if she stayed up all night trying to make sure it doesn’t happen again. No sleep is better than no role in this industry, after all.”

Seungmin frowned at his manager’s words. That can’t be right. Sure, as actors, getting roles to play was their bread and butter—but no project was going to be worth more than their own well-being. If your condition was bad, then how were you expecting to have the proper mindset to act well? That should be simple logic.

He huffed. “I’m going to talk to her.”

Before he could even take a step forward, a strong force had already pulled him back. “Stop right there, Seungmin.” His manager gripped his shoulder in warning. “I know you mean well, but please do not do anything to agitate Actress Y/N any further.”

Seungmin turns back in disbelief. “What are you even talking about?”

“Aren’t you two close? I know how you joke around when you’re comfortable, and I’m just letting you know that this might not be the best time to do so.”

The actor narrowed his eyes at the implication being thrown his way. “You know, you’re making me out to be a major ass right now.” Minho shrugged.

“That’s because one wrong move, and you might as well be,” he sighs. “Look, all I’m saying is that what she probably needs right now is support. Someone who would give her motivation to get through the shoot today.”

Seungmin deadpanned at his manager’s sudden advice. He wasn’t expecting Minho, of all people, to lecture him about how to properly interact with others. “Exactly?” The younger of the two raises a brow. “What else do you think I was going to do?”

Minho looked hesitant for a second. “You and I both know that you’re not exactly the most—” he trails off, making random expressive movements with his hands instead. Seungmin scoffed.

“Spit it out.”

“—Motivating. You’re probably the least motivating person here.”

Seungmin visibly blanched at Minho’s admittance. Truth be told, he wasn’t expecting the older man to say anything particularly nice, but the actual reveal was just completely out of his radar.

Even when he was young, Seungmin never struggled with making friends. He’s always been well-liked by the people around him, which has made him fairly popular amongst his peers. With such a positive response from a lot of people regarding him as a person, Seungmin was clearly gifted in the art of making friends. So now, being told that he lacked the skill of uplifting others greatly confused him. If that were true, then shouldn’t he have had the opposite experience with socializing?

“I—” He stutters, caught off guard. “Do my social skills not prove to be enough for you?”

“Those are two completely separate things,” Minho barely managed to suppress a sneer. “Seungmin, you’re great at casual talk—that’s no surprise. But you also have the tendency to be dense. And that’s putting it lightly.”

“Oh.”

That would make sense. A part of him also admitted that his younger counterpart did struggle with connecting to others. Yes, he had a lot of friends, but that didn’t mean he saw all of them equally. As harsh as that may be, the old Seungmin had this unfathomable standard for people he could call friends, which he used as a strict criteria for judging others. He still kicks himself whenever he gets reminded of how big his high horse used to be, for no reason. Seungmin was more than willing to leave that time of his life at the back of his mind to collect dust. His life has been so much better without it, and he would do anything to maintain this satisfactory present he has carved for himself.

His manager chuckled. “Who knows, though? Maybe you could finally practice your empathy with this conversation. You’ve been around professional robots for far too long.”

“That sounds like an insult,” Seungmin says, expressing his doubt.

“I’m just saying it as it is.” Minho patted his back twice. “Now, I already warned you enough. If you still want to talk to Actress Y/N, then go ahead. Just know that whatever comes out of that mouth of yours is completely your responsibility, and I will not cover for you if you come out of this one with a broken friendship.”

Seungmin let the words sink in.

“There you go, all done!” Eunha exclaims, lightly pushing your hair forward to make the volume more noticeable. You gave her a thankful smile.

Eunha was someone you'd only known for two days, but she was already becoming your favorite person on set. The way she manages to lighten your mood every time made her worthy of being on the list of people you greatly appreciated, especially with how things were going for you recently. Today too, her positivity was very welcomed.

“Thank you,” you say while admiring her work. “It looks pretty today too.”

The hairstylist beamed. “Of course it should be,” she huffs in pride. “You need to be the prettiest one here on set. After all, you’re the female lead!”

You knew she didn’t mean it to be, but her words felt like little stabs to your heart. The prickly ache spread slowly, like poison that was meant to be discrete. You chuckled to offset the pain.

“Right.”

Female lead. The character you worked so hard for—only for you to also ruin the chance with your own hands. You couldn’t help but think of how ungrateful you were being, and for what? A personal grudge towards your co-star, who was being more professional about the situation than you ever tried to be? It was almost laughable how belatedly you realized that the situation was never going to be in your favor. You weren’t someone looking to be pitied, so why were you hypocritically trying to paint yourself as the distressed damsel?

Eunha sent you a troubled glance as she fixed the tools on the table. “Are you alright? I—” She sighed. “I didn’t want to point it out earlier, but I guess my concern got the best of me. The bags under your eyes looked deep earlier—Yerin did a great job covering them up, though! You don’t worry about how you’ll look on camera, but I’m just worried about your condition.”

You sheepishly scratched your arm at being pointed out. “Sorry for worrying you. I just forgot the time last night and fell asleep late. You could say I was too excited to shoot again today.”

“Well, that’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one.”

You jumped in your chair, startled by Seungmin’s voice suddenly joining the space on your side of the tent. Eunha’s eyes gave you a silent apology before bowing to Seungmin and heading out of the tent, indicating that her task was finished. Your gaze fluttered toward your co-star, who was looking at you in a disapproving manner. It was then that you remembered his comment.

“And that was rude of you to disrupt a conversation that had nothing to do with you.”

Seungmin wasn’t fazed by your bite. “Why didn’t you sleep?”

“I asked a question first, Kim.” You crossed your arms at being ignored. “Also, I did sleep.”

"No, you didn’t,” he pressed on. You could feel your blood pressure rise at his insistence. “Even a twenty-minute nap could do wonders. You just look horrible.” You scoffed at the insult.

“Gee, thanks. Exactly what I needed to hear.”

Seungmin’s eyes widened comically, and you almost laughed at the sight. Almost. He looked so guilty of what he had just said that you felt the urge to tease him as revenge.

“Wait, no—”

“An explanation isn’t necessary,” you hummed. “Even if that wasn’t a joke, I could really care less right now.”

Your reply made Seungmin flail his hands around like a madman. “It was a joke. I didn’t mean anything about it,” he coughs out before composing himself after realizing how silly he was acting. “Sorry.”

“Ok. Thank you for apologizing.”

“Sure,” he trailed off. Seungmin was now unsure of what to even do.

Oddly enough, your heart warmed at his reaction. A part of you was thanking yourself for finally becoming more rational, as you thought that maybe he wasn’t so bad. Sure, your past together was still rocky territory, but you had to remind yourself that time had also passed. Seven years at that. That detail took you back to the conversation you two had back at the table reading. You remember the way you hissed at him that you had changed—what made you assume that he couldn’t do it too? Everyone was allowed to become better versions of themselves, and Kim Seungmin wasn’t exempted from that. He was but another person living amongst others in this world, after all.

Changbin was right. Seungmin also deserved an apology.

“I guess I also owe you an apology,” you say softly. “About how I’ve been towards you the whole time—it was immature of me. I hope we can continue to work well until the end of this project, like you said yesterday.”

“Now, this is just odd.”

Seungmin was now utterly lost. He recalls approaching you despite Minho’s warnings, deciding that he had enough self-restraint to not screw it up—only to end up insulting you without meaning to. But that wasn’t the confusing part.

It was your reaction.

In Seungmin’s experience, you weren’t one to let something go like that. Even back when you both were in your senior level days at the academy, a simple jest from him would set you off into flames. The you he knew would immediately choose to chew him out, hoping that he would get burned by a rogue ember of your fury for even just attempting to speak such words. But the person in front of him right now did none of that. The you in the present simply took the accidental insult and even apologized for the ones you’ve spat out over the previous days. It was a whiplash, to say the least—just yesterday he was still fighting to keep you in a flowing conversation. So, what was this he was witnessing?

“Is it?” You snicker. “Just think of it like winning. You were right. This is a high-profile project, and I’m over here messing around. I’ve prepared a better performance for you all to see today, so be rest assured.” Seungmin still wasn’t assured.

“Y/N, are you sure you’re alright—”

“Main characters on set!”

Damn. So that’s how it feels for your conversation to get interrupted by someone unrelated to it. Seungmin internally acknowledged your annoyance earlier and kicked the memory of himself from a few minutes earlier.

You turned back to him, tilting your head. “What was that?” Seungmin refused to admit that he found the action cute.

“No, it’s nothing,” he said, clearing his throat. “Let’s have a good shoot.”

05 : FIVE.

Okay, you do not think this was turning out to be a good shoot.

You were already regretting pulling another all-nighter the day after you got absolutely no sleep. This meant that you were already nearing 48 hours of no sleep, to which you were surprised you were still even capable of functioning. You had never gone this long without sleep, and it was both thrilling and terrifying to you at the same time.

Honestly, you were already expecting to feel lethargic after the shoot yesterday, especially after staying up the entire night to master your parts and was planning to go to sleep early to make up for it. However, after getting nothing but praise from the directors and filming crew the whole day for your stellar performance that day, you came to the conclusion that perhaps your sacrificial act was exceptionally effective. A little too effective since your manager even said that your acting became much more alive than the takes you did the previous day, despite feeling the complete opposite internally.

Now, while you normally wouldn’t describe yourself as someone who was peer pressured easily, it still felt really nice for your hard work to be acknowledged after the disappointing performance you had the day before. Which also led you to your current predicament—woefully repeating the same magical process that helped you gain your reputation back.

“You’re yawning an awful lot.” Seungmin raised a brow in question. “Don’t tell me that all the praise you got yesterday already got to your head, and you suddenly find all this boring.”

An irked look made its way onto your face, pinching hard on Seungmin’s arm. You watched in satisfaction as he yelped audibly at your damage, jerking away in reflex. “What the fuck, woman?”

“It’s what you get,” you say nonchalantly while shrugging. Seungmin scoffs at the response.

“Just because we have a truce now doesn’t mean you can abuse me whenever you like,” he snarls. “What happened to the Y/N who didn’t want me to talk to her unless, quote on quote, necessary?”

You cringe at the unwelcome reminder of your previous activities. “I apologized! Would you rather have me act like a total bitch again?”

“Well—no. That Y/N was a pain to deal with.”

“Then be grateful for what you have right now.”

Seungmin lets out an amused snort, crossing his arms and leaning backwards closer towards the living room’s walls, where you two were on standby. “Oh, believe me. I’m more than grateful.”

The set right now was in a cozy cottage house, designed to imitate what the female lead’s family home would look like. You had already moved past the beginnings of the main characters’ romance yesterday and were now heading into the development stage, where they spend more time together until they realize their feelings. A domestic scene in one character’s home was a popular trope—which was, of course, also included in the movie.

If today’s shoot goes well, then you only have one day left in the filming process before everyone packs up to head back to the city. Not for Seungmin, though. The male lead still had to film the first part of the movie where he quit his job at the company. You’d have to laugh at him about it on the last day.

First, you had to get through this shoot without fainting flat on your face.

It was a particularly hot day too, which made your drowsiness even worse. The rural countryside cottage didn’t have an air conditioner set up, so you had to make do with fans all over the place. But that barely did anything to cool you down, as the air around the place itself was humid. At least you weren’t shooting out in the sun today.

“Geez, my makeup might melt even before we start filming,” you groan. “That’s if my head doesn’t explode first.”

Seungmin chuckles. “Blame your character for being a sweater enthusiast. That outfit must be torture in this weather.”

He wasn’t wrong about that. The thick baby blue cardigan you were wearing felt like a punishment to wear at the moment. It was unfortunate that you felt really cute in this get-up because you wanted to trash on it so badly.

Actually, fuck it. Comfort matters more.

“I don’t understand how she does it,” you whine dramatically. “Every scene she’s had has her wearing some kind of version of a sweater. Does she not get hot at all?” You pull on your slightly weighted cardigan.

“I do think she’s plenty hot enough.” Seungmin smirks, glancing at you while waiting for your reaction.

You hummed in agreement. “She’s probably just tolerating it since it's her clothing style. I’ve had my fair share of those moments too.”

It wasn’t something you could see since you were more preoccupied with watching the staff prepare for filming, but Seungmin’s ears were slowly turning red. He took note of how his less than savory joke completely flew over your head, now leaving him to drown in the embarrassment of his original intentions.

Internally, he was already having a boxing match with himself. He thinks she’s plenty hot enough? What does that even mean? You were the only image he had of the female lead since you had her role! Seungmin wanted the ground to suddenly swallow him whole at the implication.

You, on the other hand, were fighting a completely different battle. The combination of the heat and your severe lack of sleep was becoming dangerous. You could already feel a growing pounding in your head, the world’s noise becoming more muffled by the second. It seemed like your vision wasn’t affected yet, though—and for that, you were relieved. That meant you could still stretch yourself out until the shoot was finished. You’d already done this once yesterday, so a second time wouldn’t be that bad, right?

Wrong.

Seungmin’s voice as he carried out his lines in the scene seemed so far away to you already, and it had only been an hour since the cameras started rolling. Internally, you were already sounding the sirens. Something was definitely wrong—you don’t think Seungmin was supposed to sound like he was underwater.

Your co-star seemed to notice that you were out of it too, except he couldn’t exactly stop the scene as you were still conducting your parts as proficiently as you could. Director Han hasn’t called a cut yet, either. So, he settled on carefully watching you for signs. You also thought you could last until the scene was over—until you couldn’t.

The last thing you remember was a figure rushing over to you before your sight went pitch black.

“Y/N!”

“Cut!”

Seungmin felt his heart race as he dashed over to catch you from crashing to the ground. What was going on? You were completely fine a while ago. How did you end up fainting? Could it have been the heat? He didn’t think it was going to be that bad for you since he was dealing with it pretty well. The heat wasn’t exactly unbearable. So what was it?

“Actor Kim Seungmin,” D.O.P. Bang called out. “We should take her to the medic tent. Someone, call her manager.”

Seungmin had never agreed more to a suggestion in his life.

“Seungmin? What’s—” Minho’s face paled in shock at the sight of your limp figure. “Oh, shit. That’s why everyone is running around like headless chickens. Quick, let’s get her to the medics.”

Minho sped over to give the actor a helping hand on steadying you, only to be stopped. “We’re wasting so much time.” Seungmin clicks his tongue.

Everyone could only watch as Seungmin positioned his arms on your back and behind your knees, hastily pulling you up towards him in a bridal carry and speeding away to the medic’s tent. Minho’s jaw dropped at his talent’s actions before recovering from the shock and tailing him.

“Seungmin!”

“What?” Seungmin responds half-heartedly as he sets you down on the cushioned stretcher, stepping back as the medics do their job.

“You—” Minho squeaks out. “What was that?”

“What was what?”

“That!” He gestured towards you, still unconscious and being checked on by the medics on standby. “Did you just carry Actress Y/N?”

Seungmin ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “And what about it? Did I commit a crime or something? I was just helping!”

Minho was conflicted. In all the years he had been working as Seungmin’s manager, the actor had never shown this much attention towards his other co-workers, despite maintaining an approachable and friendly image. Of course, that wasn’t particularly a bad thing—especially in an industry where caution towards everyone around you was basic common sense to prevent yourself from going down a road that would lead to your demise. The view was great up where it was high, but the fall was just as immense.

What Minho did acknowledge was your past with Seungmin. Because of that, he was inclined to think more about your friendship with his talent and how that played into your dynamic. Yet, over the course of the two days you two had been filming, he hasn’t exactly seen the kind of relationship he was expecting. There were discrepancies in what he knew about you and Seungmin, as well as gaps in the bond his actor painted a picture of. In times like these, there were only a few reasonable explanations that Minho could think of, which made him uneasy.

Something big was coming in the future—one that he needed to prepare for as early as now.

Hurried footsteps could be heard nearing the tent as Seungmin and Minho diverted their lines of sight towards the entrance, just in time to see a fairly muscular figure come in all frantic. “How is she?”

Minho immediately recognized the man from a conversation he had in the personal staff area, recalling his introduction as your manager. The former bowed slightly in greeting. “Manager Seo Changbin.” Seungmin felt his blood boil after seeing your manager’s late entrance.

“Where even were you?” He asked coldly, intentionally making his tone sharp. “You know, for her manager, you sure are practically nowhere to be found during shoots.”

Changbin splutters at the accusation. “Y/N doesn’t like it when I stay to watch! She says it’s pressuring!”

“Sure. But it’s your job to be on standby in the event that she needs you. How come you weren’t?”

“I—”

“Okay, that’s enough.” A new face entered the space, who Seungmin quickly made out to be Assistant Director Lee. The second-in-hand gave him a disapproving look. “Actor Kim Seungmin, please stop lashing out at Actress Y/N’s manager.”

Seungmin felt like he was seconds away from committing arson. “I’m not lashing out if it's a reasonable argument!”

He felt someone grab a hold of him, forcefully pushing him down to sit. It was only then that Seungmin seemed to finally be conscious of how emotionally he had been acting—accepting Minho’s foresight on his actions. Assistant Director Lee, on the other hand, did not appreciate his recklessness.

“That it is, but we’re going to need you to stay calm,” he states. “The situation is sensitive enough as it is.”

Seungmin felt like he had no choice but to agree. He couldn’t risk making an unreasonable scene in such a respected project set, and knowing you, a tension-filled tent wasn’t going to be your preferred area of rest. Glancing back at your unconscious figure still being tended to, he let out a sigh to release the extra pressure in his chest.

Just what was he doing right now?

Once Assistant Director Lee saw him calm down a significant amount, he clapped to disperse the heavy silence. “Great. Now, can someone inform us when she wakes up so we can restart the shoot?”

So much for calming down, because Seungmin’s temper flared up again in an instant. “Are you kidding me?” He growled. “No, we are not proceeding with filming today!”

“Actor Kim, we don’t have enough time—”

“I’ll pay for all the expenses for the extension and rescheduling of all the remaining shoots. Put all of it under my personal bank account.”

Minho’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets in shock. “Seungmin, what—”

“I said what I said,” Seungmin continued. “Now go do it. Both of us won’t step in front of the camera for the rest of the day.”

“You can’t just decide that for Actress Y/N,” Assistant Director Lee reasoned in disbelief.

Unluckily for him, Seungmin had already made up his mind—and when that happens, he isn’t one to give up on it.

“Then we’ll tell her it’s cancelled because I’m sure as hell won’t be filming today. You can’t make her act out the scenes prepared today without me.”

Assistant Director Lee was conflicted. Taking a day off so suddenly when they’d already had everything set up was going to be such a waste—and frankly, Director Han was already on edge about it. Granted, this wasn’t the first time he’d come across this situation, and certainly won’t be the last in his time in the industry. Now, an actor telling them that they’d pay for the cost of their demand? That one was new.

Kim Seungmin was notorious in the field for being a perfectionist, so he honestly came in here expecting him to agree with their plan. Maybe he should’ve considered the rumors he’d heard around the set that Actor Kim and you were closer than they initially thought. With that, Assistant Director Lee could only sigh. He’d just have to deal with Director Han’s displeasure.

Along with being a perfectionist, Kim Seungmin was also incredibly stubborn.

“I understand,” he concedes. “I’ll inform Director Han.”

Seungmin tried not to show his surprise on his face. He didn’t think he’d actually get this result so easily, but it was welcomed. “Thank you.”

“Let us know if you change your mind.”

“I won’t.”

Assistant Director Lee chuckled at Seungmin’s firm reply before announcing his leave. The atmosphere in the tent improved as he stepped out, but awkwardness still lingered in the air. Minho dropped down to slump on a plastic chair, leaving Changbin to stand stiffly near him.

“Y/N is totally gonna kill you, dude.” Minho groans, completely letting go of formalities in stress.

Seungmin had half the mind to be embarrassed by his choices. “And to think I’m doing this all for her sake,” he scoffs good-naturedly before turning to your manager. “Did something happen before the shoot? She couldn’t have passed out like this just because of the heat today.”

Changbin scratches at his neck. “Uh, I’m not sure—”

“—It’s exhaustion,” one of the medics spoke up. “Her body seems to be completely fatigued, as well as slightly dehydrated, but that must be the heat’s contribution. Has she not been getting enough rest?”

They watched as Changbin’s face morphed into shock, completely unsure of how that could’ve even happened. “But she said she was going to bed early yesterday!”

Your manager was slowly getting on Seungmin’s nerves. First, it was his constant absence from the set. Next, it was his blatant disregard for your well-being. The last time he checked, a manager was supposed to be aware of their talent’s condition as much as possible. Any less and it would be neglect.

He narrowed his eyes. “The picture you’re painting for me is not a good one, Manager Seo.”

“What are you implying right now, Actor Kim?” Changbin pounced back, Seungmin’s tone stirring negative emotions inside him.

Seungmin refused to back down. “You know damn well.”

“Kim Seungmin!”

“Watch your mouth—”

A rustling noise interrupted the three men’s small disagreement. “Ugh,” you groaned in pain. “What in the world?”

“Y/N!” Seungmin jumps up without a second thought to rush over. In the distance, Minho and Changbin’s eyes meet in mutual speculation.

“Seungmin, sorry, but please shut up.” You raise a hand to cradle your head. “My head is pounding.”

You could vaguely make up a medic handing Seungmin some pills and a bottle of water, saying something about how you were stable enough to just need rest and hydration. The next thing you knew was feeling a hand gently take your chin to create an opening and a pill being dropped inside, along with a water bottle pressing against your lips. You gulped it down in shock.

“The fuck—” You coughed. Another hand came up again to wipe some of the water you spilled around your mouth before you pushed it away. “Kim Seungmin!”

Your co-star rolled his eyes at your dramatics. “Would it kill you to stop being so fussy?”

“Not when you’re treating me like a child!”

Changbin clears his throat, effectively stopping your bickering. “Uh—I’m going to go get us lunch,” he meekly informs you two. “The medics also already went out to get food earlier, so I think we need to get our share before it’s all gone.”

Minho nods at Changbin’s words a bit too enthusiastically for your liking. “I’ll come with him. You two can talk while waiting.”

The two of you watch as your managers dash out of the tent like cartoon characters, raising a suspicious brow at their sudden change in behavior. Seungmin clicked his tongue in annoyance before turning back to you and flicking a finger at your forehead without warning. You squealed at the added pain as Seungmin’s suppressed laughter filled the room.

“You are such an asshole!” You shriek while bringing both hands to shield your forehead belatedly.

“And your hair looks like a nest,” he replies with a snicker.

You gave him a glare at his comment, rubbing the sore spot gently. “Shit,” you whined, feeling the ache from inside your head again. “I can’t believe I fainted. How long was I out? What about the shoot? Are we resuming after lunch?”

The questions you were asking him only served as Seungmin’s reminder of his actions earlier, causing his mouth to run dry. Truth be told, even he was unsure of how to tell you everything that happened while you were away in dreamland. He couldn’t just drop the ball at you that he made sure that the shoot had been cancelled just for you to have the rest of the day to rest up. At the same time, there was practically no other way to convince you that the cancellation wasn’t your fault unless he told you the truth.

But Seungmin had already caused you enough misunderstandings to last a decade—and he wasn’t about to add another one.

“You weren’t out for long,” he told you. “I’m actually surprised you even woke up right away. The shoot’s cancelled.”

He watched you pause to let the words sink in. What did he mean by the shoot’s been cancelled? Wouldn’t that be too costly? After all, you were literally renting a place far away from the city to shoot this movie. A shoot cancellation meant an extension, which also meant new arrangements needed to be made. You curled up into a ball, wanting to evaporate into the clouds at the heat of the sun. How much more were you going to screw up everyone’s experience with this project?

“Is it because of me?” You muttered.

Seungmin felt something inside him break at how small you made yourself seem. This was exactly what he was trying to avoid, only to once again fail to prevent it. That one was on him, though—he didn’t manage to tell you right away that he was the one responsible for the shoot’s cancellation. He felt the need to chase away your negative headspace as fast as possible.

“Why do you always blame yourself first? I cancelled the shoot, so just get some more rest.” He sighs.

Your eyes snap upwards to meet his. He had got to joking. “What?” You ask, bewildered at the statement. “And they agreed? I can still continue!”

Seungmin immediately acts to lift your legs back up on the stretcher when he sees you trying to get up. He places a heavy hand on your calves to lock them in place before sending you an unamused stare. “Land a single foot out of this stretcher, and I’ll make sure the shoot gets moved to next week.”

“You can’t just do that!” Your mouth gaped open like a fish. “Do you even know how bad the cost is going to be to extend for that long?”

“I’m more than capable of shouldering the expenses.”

That single statement made your stomach drop. “You cannot be serious,” was your horrified reaction. “Seungmin, did you pay for the extension costs?”

The man before you only shrugged, like he hadn’t just dropped significant information. “What about it?” You blanched at his unconcerned attitude.

“What do you mean, what about it?” You asked, absolutely outraged. “I swear, you’ve always been like this! You think you could just play around with everything around you, since you can. Why can’t you take things seriously for once?”

It was Seungmin’s turn to look offended. “Now, when did I ever do that?”

“The charity drama!” You cry out. “Yeah, I knew all about your little plan back then. If you acted well enough, they wouldn’t pay attention to whatever mess I was making, was it? I even overheard you telling your friends you chose me to become the female lead just because you were curious about how I kept advancing levels when I barely met the standard—and there I was foolish enough to believe that you chose me for my skills!”

“I—” Seungmin stammers. “I don’t remember that.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” you held back a sob, feeling emotional as you poured out your inner insecurities. “Why would you? Someone of your caliber could go around bending things to your will, and no one would bat an eye since they would justify it with your talent. I’m the complete opposite, Seungmin.”

Seungmin was quite alarmed, to say the least. These were your side of the story—the side that he never got to acknowledge. He could only watch you try to keep yourself together in front of him, clearly struggling as your emotions ran wild at the release of what seemed to be years of suppressed experiences. His body was screaming at him to move and comfort you in any way he knew how, but for the first time in his life, Seungmin was completely frozen in guilt.

“I’ve lived the life below people like you. We were the ones that were always stuck in the shadows, where stepping on us became the norm. People like us were the pieces in your games of chess who couldn’t even speak out in the fear of being thrown out.” You inhaled deeply before meeting his gaze. “It was a life you would never even begin to imagine experiencing at your ability, Seungmin.”

Your words were like spears thrown at Seungmin’s heart. They all rang true in his head. He would never understand what you went through because he was part of the problem. Seungmin thought back to his past, trying to recall where it all started.

He was a young child, only ten years old, when he discovered his passion for acting. His class decided to do a play for the school festival, and he got the role of the main character completely by chance through drawing lots. Young Seungmin didn’t think of it too much and agreed out of obligation. It wasn’t until practices started that he started to take an interest in it after receiving constant praise from his classmates and homeroom teacher. This fascination only bloomed more on the day of the festival, where he found out that performing for people could be this exhilarating.

From then on, Seungmin made it his lifelong dream to become an actor. Seeing his talent in the field, his parents supported him wholeheartedly, eventually leading to them suggesting he join an acting academy to improve. The praises didn’t stop even after he joined the academy—in fact, they only doubled in frequency, making Seungmin come to the conclusion that he must’ve been some sort of prodigy. Perhaps it was due to that mindset of his that he paraded around like the world was his. To his defense, none of the adults around him saw the wrong in his behavior and even went as far as encouraging it.

It was when he graduated from the academy and started his work as a professional actor that he got humbled by all the talent around him. Everyone seemed to be on his level or greater, which completely shattered his worldview. During those times in his rookie years, he learned the importance of hard work and how much it could really make a difference. There was one time that he thought to himself—maybe this was the reason he felt so attracted to you.

You were the first person he ever associated with the difference that hard work brought. Seungmin first noticed you on the first day of intermediate level. He had gotten to that level first and thus kept an eye out for notable candidates from the beginner level. The thing is, he had never even heard of you or any of your performances—so it was a complete surprise to see you climb up to intermediate level. From then on, he observed you from afar, never really approaching. To him, you seemed plain; someone who didn’t even exude star quality. So eventually, he forgot all about you again.

Until he saw your name on the same paper as his, indicating that both of you would be in the same batch that got promoted to junior level.

The charity drama was another project Seungmin gained an unexpected opportunity from. With the privilege given to him as the top ranker for the year-end evaluations, he chose you as his female lead. All Seungmin wanted was to see what kind of shine you had as an actor, and he was rewarded greatly with your stellar performance after days of painful practices. When you were once again bumped up to senior level right alongside him, he was ecstatic. You had changed since the charity drama, and your aura started to take up more space in their small practice room. Seungmin wanted to get closer to you, but the two of you would only end up clashing every time. He guesses that you and him were just complete opposites in everything, down to your work ethic. He still tried to interact with you in any way he knew how, though—which led to his friends teasing him about his little crush on you.

Now, he couldn’t help but think that maybe they were right.

Seungmin pulled his hand away from your calves, letting his hands fall down on his sides before bowing deeply. “I’m sorry. There would be no excuse for my actions, and it’s even worse that I have no recollection of the details when I’ve obviously affected someone. I know an apology wouldn’t erase everything that has already happened, but it would be the start of my attempts to make sure it doesn’t happen again. At this point, all I can ask for is your forgiveness.”

You quickly reached out to grasp his arms, trying to pull him up from his act of remorse. “Get up—oh my god. It’s fine, Seungmin. Really. I’ve already forgiven you yesterday, honestly. My behavior also had some faults towards you, and it was unacceptable.”

“Knowing why now, I think it was more than reasonable.”

You let out a laugh at his words. “You’re just trying to make me feel better,” you teased. “Now, I think the other crew members also deserve an apology from us.” Seungmin’s face paled at the reminder. Just imagining Assistant Director Lee scolding him for his audacity earlier was sending him into early retirement.

“Yeah,” he coughs. “But can we not take back the shoot cancellation? It would be so awkward for me if we did, and you still need the rest.”

“Fine, you big baby.” You pinched his cheek after seeing his childish pout. Seungmin was quick to swat your hand away, despite the burning sensation he could feel heating up his ears. “So does this mean we’re friends?”

Even if he could feel a crack form in his heart from your innocent words, Seungmin refused to show it.

“Sure. Friends.”

06 : SIX.

Being friends with Seungmin was odd.

Granted, you already got a taste of what that felt like for the two days that flew by since you two decided on a truce. However, you didn’t really feel much of a change in your dynamic in those two days—not until things took a turn after your conversation in the medic tent.

After your little heart-to-heart session, Seungmin had begun acting strangely. And by strangely, you meant becoming a complete one-eighty from the Kim Seungmin you were used to. It was almost like he was replaced by a softer, more warm-hearted version of himself. In one talk, you were suddenly subject to his endless affection, albeit still exhibiting the Kim Seungmin flare that you were comfortable with. Overall, it was just weird to think that four days ago, the two of you were fighting like cats and dogs. Now, you watched him bounce up and down as he gave himself a pep talk to prepare for the kissing scene.

“Are you that nervous?”

Seungmin flinches at your question, seemingly not expecting your voice to enter his head while he was seconds away from a meltdown. Your co-star looks at you sheepishly. “Is that bad? This is driving me insane.”

That was another thing different about Seungmin after the medic tent incident. He acted a lot more endearingly in your eyes. You faintly recall a comment you made a few days ago about how Seungmin would never be akin to a small bird who deserved to be doted on. But seeing the Seungmin in front of you right now, you might just take back your words.

Kim Seungmin had a lot more layers than you thought—and you found yourself wanting to uncover them all.

“I’m sure this isn’t your first kiss on camera,” you snort. “Just go do it like you usually do. Act like how your character would act in the moment. You have my whole consent, anyway.”

Seungmin wanted to tell you how much you didn’t understand his dilemma right now. In all fairness, even he was somewhat unsure of what was happening to him the past few days. All he did know was that he was right in what he thought during the first day of filming—he really did feel like he was turning younger in front of you.

It was almost embarrassing how easily he slipped into that carefree attitude around you, especially after your conversation in the medic tent. He was doing so well up until then, so what happened? Seungmin couldn’t be more curious about his own actions. He did have an inkling of what it was, but he needed more proof to act on it. Seungmin couldn’t risk becoming more of an idiot in your eyes. You already had too much of that experience with him during your filming yesterday, which was the rescheduled shoot of the one he demanded to pause.

That also meant that this was the last day you two had on set together before everyone packed their bags and headed back to the city. After that, it would be just him again on set to film the movie’s first scenes of his character.

Seungmin wasn’t disappointed. He totally wasn’t.

“What are you going to do if I lose control and give into my character, huh?” He argues. You stopped reading your script to give him an unamused stare.

“Seriously?” You scoffed. “If you really must know, then I wouldn’t do anything. If that’s what the male lead feels, then the female lead just needs to reciprocate if they’re really in love with each other. As their actors, we need to deliver those same emotions.”

You didn’t get what was making Seungmin so on edge about the scene. Reviewing his past works, this certainly wouldn’t be his first on-screen kiss, nor was it his first romance project as the male lead. What made you so different from his other co-stars that was making him act like a rookie?

“If anything, I should be more nervous than you. This is actually my first kiss scene!”

“That’s just even worse!” Seungmin whines, burying his face in his hands. “This is gonna be terrible.”

It was then that you finally had an idea as to why Seungmin looked like he was having a mid-life crisis this early in his life.

You felt a grin creep up on your face and paste itself there. “Did you want this to be a good memory for me?”

Seungmin groans at your poking. “Stop teasing me! So what if I do? Did I commit a crime, huh?”

“The crime of stealing my heart, yes.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Thank you,” you laugh. “I try my best.”

Seungmin mutters something beneath his breath—something you couldn’t hear because of Director Han calling for the two of you. He watched as you skipped away, leaving him to follow in your footsteps. Seungmin smiled at the picture painted in front of him.

“I know.”

You stopped at your designated place in front of the camera, turning back to look at Seungmin beside you, who was already sweating bullets. Your hand unconsciously lifts up to wipe them off, which startles the both of you. Seungmin opens his mouth to say something but was cut off by Director Han’s loud voice.

“Alright!” He claps. “This is our last scene for the day before we call it a wrap! I’m sure you two already know what it is, so all I’ll say is don't think too much about this. Enjoy it, or whatever you want to do—as long as it looks natural. Sounds good?” The two of you nod at him.

“Okay, camera starts at three,” he says, motioning towards D.O.P. Bang. “Two, one. Action!”

You took the opportunity to appreciate the scenery around you as the camera started rolling. The scene was set on a hill with a breathtaking view of the rest of the town. Hues of orange and pink start to tint the surroundings as the sun sets in the background. It was nothing less than ethereal, and you almost envied the female lead for having this moment in her life.

“I’ve always wanted to take someone here,” Seungmin says, reciting his lines. “When I was younger, I told myself that I was going to bring my true love here and propose. It was unfortunate that I moved away—this was my favorite spot in the whole world.”

You let yourself completely immerse in the situation. “Propose, huh? I’m sure the lucky person would love it up here. It’s so serene, like it's taking away all your stress just by being here.”

Seungmin gently grabs your hand into his, making you turn to meet his eyes. You almost gasped out of character after seeing the immense amount of love swirling in his gaze. Love looked great on him, you pointed out in your head. One day, Seungmin was going to look at someone else with the same gaze—someone that he loved with all his heart. A tinge of hot green jealousy burned in your stomach at the thought.

Part of you yearned for someone to look at you even just a fourth of the way Seungmin portrayed the male lead’s longing for the female lead. But for now, you had a role to fulfill. You could just lock these feelings up for later.

“Do you?” He asks. Your breath hitches at his question. “I’m not proposing—well, not yet. But I brought you here for a similar reason.”

Seungmin reaches for your other hand, now holding both of them. “I love you so much. I know our time together hasn’t been the longest, but it seems like my heart has found its way back home. Honestly, I first thought that it was just because I was back in town, but eventually I realized that I felt at home with you too.” He caresses your knuckles with his thumbs. “Maybe my heart knew where it belonged long before I did. I loved you back then, just like I love you now.”

You couldn’t help but genuinely tear up at Seungmin’s monologue. It was such a beautiful feeling to be loved, and you hoped that someday you could experience the same kind of love you acted with. “So, I’ll ask you this question,” Seungmin continued.

“Will you be mine?”

“Yes,” you sobbed out.

Seungmin lifts his hands to cup your crying face, bringing you closer to his own. The moment your lips connected felt so magical that you ended up leaning in more, savoring the moment with your fluttering heart. Seungmin reciprocates the act, kissing you with more emotion than he did just a second ago. His lips felt like smooth pillows, coaxing you to release all the tension you had left and rest—with him. Seungmin was being careful yet passionate at the same time, leaving you to drown in the sheer magnitude of the butterflies.

You couldn’t help but love every passing second that you were lost on his lips.

When you two pulled away due to the lack of air, he kept his forehead to yours, noses touching. The soft sound of both your laughter filled the surrounding area.

“Cut! That’s a wrap for today!” You hear everyone start cheering at Director Han’s words. Seungmin chuckles at them as he slowly steps back, missing the way your body followed after his warmth.

“Congratulations,” he says gently. You felt your heart skip a beat. “Your first on-screen kiss, done. How did I do?”

Oh, this was going to be dangerous for your heart.

07 : SEVEN.

There’s been an empty feeling in your heart since yesterday that you were trying to ignore.

It was currently the day after you returned to the city. You watched the bustling streets of urban life filter through the car’s tinted windows while Changbin continued to drive you back home after a busy day in the company. Something you had never expected to happen was getting attached to the small countryside town you filmed in enough to miss it like this.

You felt it when you stepped out of the car yesterday to head back to your apartment—the polished concrete floors of the parking building suddenly felt foreign to you. The abundance of luxury cars was evident in the space, reminding you that you were once again in the city. It felt almost cold and lonely with the way you couldn’t see the hills you got used to seeing all day long. But it would do, you think to yourself.

The city could also be warm if you wanted it to be.

“Oh? I think they’re filming the first scenes of the movie in a building around here,” Changbin pointed out from the driver’s seat. “Minho mentioned this street a day ago.”

You raised a brow at his words. “Since when did you and Seungmin’s manager get so close?”

“Ever since you and his talent did,” Changbin snickers.

Heat rose to your face at your manager’s teasing. It was no secret to anyone who witnessed the movie’s shoot that you and Seungmin got extremely close after the fainting incident. You were sure that his efforts to stop the filming from continuing that day was also the talk of the town with the crew members. After all, who would go so far as to pay for rescheduling costs for their co-star? Sure, you and Seungmin were friends, but the two of you were barely talking in the first few days of the project. Anyone in their right mind would find his actions out of the blue—just like you did too.

Maybe it was just Seungmin’s way of making up for all the things you both went through. At first, it made you mad at how he flaunted his blatant disregard for the people affected by his decisions. The image of younger Seungmin came to mind, triggering the part of you that still held a slight resentment for what he did before. However, you found yourself slowly changing your mind as you two apologized to the crew members for the sudden decision, promising them swift and quality scenes the next day. As Seungmin walked you back to your inn’s room, you couldn’t help but feel a tinge of happiness bubble in your stomach at the thought of someone caring enough to do this for you.

You watched as the evident signs of a film crew appeared in the distance, right in front of an office building. The same tents you’ve come to familiarize yourself with stood strong, indicating that this was indeed filming the same movie you were working on. It was already early in the evening, so they should be wrapping up any time soon. Should you stop by and say hello?

“Do you want to stop by and visit? You don’t have any schedules left for the rest of the evening,” Changbin suggests, getting ready to park near the building if you give confirmation.

Maybe you could repay Seungmin for his support over the past few days by visiting him. You smile at the thought of catching him off-guard.

“Sure, why not?”

The summer air of June was starting to make itself present despite already cooling significantly due to the sun saying its goodbyes an hour or two ago. Bright lights scattered across the vast street, a mixture of car lights, building lights, and streetlights morphing into the familiar image of a city that everyone knew. You walked towards the set peacefully, effectively going under the radar with a black mask covering your face. It was just a few steps more until you reached the barricade, when a familiar voice called out your name.

“Y/N?” Eunha squinted her eyes to determine if it really was you, only for you to watch them widen in surprise when her conclusion was proven correct. “Oh, it is you!”

You waved as you got closer. “Hi, Eunha. I saw you guys while passing by and thought I’d give you a visit,” you say shyly. Eunha beamed at your explanation.

“That’s so sweet of you; you’re always welcomed here!” She gives you a hug, quickly separating to drag you over the barricade. “Come on, I’ll show you to the others.”

Witnessing the set as a visitor was interesting. Despite the multiple people that greeted you on the way, it still felt as if you were an outsider with a V.I.P. pass to tour the set. Normally, you would be somewhere near the center, where the main scene was going to be shot. So staying back and watching the other crew members do their own things on the outskirts of that area was a new experience. In a way, you felt giddy like a child on a field trip.

“Actress Y/N is here!”

Eunha’s ecstatic voice traveled throughout the main area of the set, catching the attention of the directors, who had a figure you knew all too well standing right beside them. His eyes snapped up from the monitor D.O.P. Bang was showing him, eyes searching around for yours. Once he caught sight of your face, his eyes lit up.

“Y/N?”

If anyone asks, you totally weren’t checking him out. The clean black office suit he was wearing was incredibly flattering on his features, along with the formal brush-up the hairstylists put his hair in. You had only seen him with his hair down for the past few days—with his character supposedly portraying the look of someone who was comfortably back home to rest. And while that Seungmin was also objectively handsome, the way his hair was framing his face right now was stirring something more inside of you. Swallowing the feeling away, you straightened yourself.

“Hi, Seungmin.” You laughed. “Missed me?”

Seungmin abandoned his post with the directors and sped towards you. “Why are you here? It’s getting late,” he says, worried. Seungmin lets his eyes wander behind you for a second before a frown finds its way to his face. “And where’s that damned manager of yours?” You sighed at his obvious complaint.

“When are you going to let down on Changbin?” You say, unamused. “I swear, he means well. I came from the company, so he’s guarding the car since it’s just on hazard.”

“Still—” Seungmin tries to argue, only to be cut off by you waving your finger like he had been a bad child.

“Stop that. We talked about your coddling.”

He clicks his tongue in disapproval. “Maybe I’d stop once you actually learn how to take care of yourself.”

A series of claps interrupted the conversation you two were having. “Okay, break it up, lovebirds,” Minho says while inserting himself between you two. “It’s so nice to see you again, Actress Y/N. But we have a crew celebration dinner to attend, so I’ll borrow Seungmin first over here.”

Your co-star resists his manager, staying firmly on spot to prove a point. “Wait, I’ll walk her back to her car first.” Minho gave him an odd look.

“What do you mean walk her back?” He questions. “She’s attending. You just need to get changed out of that suit.” It was your turn to look confused.

“Huh?”

That was how you suddenly found yourself sitting at a long barbecue restaurant table with the other female crew members, silently listening to their energetic conversations while downing as much meat as you could. You didn’t know if this was a curse or a blessing in disguise, but you would surely regret it if you didn’t make the most of what was handed to you. Free food is still free food, even if it was a sponteneous invitation from the directors.

“I’m so happy we finished filming!” The woman assigned to your makeup, Yerin, said aloud. “Now it's those computer bastards’ turn to slave away.”

You couldn’t help but feel guilty for a portion of her hardships. “Once again, I apologize for all the trouble I caused you on set.” You slightly bowed while still sitting. “Hopefully, it will be better the next time we get to work together.” Yerin only waved off your apology.

“Oh, please—don’t be such a worrywart! Having you on set was a delight,” she squeals. “Plus, we had a blast seeing the development between you and Actor Kim Seungmin.” Eunha’s face quickly turned into one of horror.

“Yerin!”

You paled at her words. “I’m sorry, what?”

What did she mean by that? The inside of your mind turned into a battlefield at Yerin’s implication. Your eyes immediately turned to search for Changbin, feeling the need to inform him of a possible issue in the near future. In your experience in the industry, scandals always started like this. You didn’t want this to affect Seungmin’s career negatively, so it was always better to prepare early than late.

“Don’t listen to her, Y/N,” Eunha frantically says, trying to get a hold of her co-worker. “She’s just drunk.”

Yerin pushed her hands away, albeit weakly. “Eunha, stop being such a party pooper,” she whines. “We all know they’re dating now. Oh, our crew has tight lips, though! We won’t sell you guys or something.” That didn’t ease the panic that had already formed in your stomach.

“We’re not dating.”

You could only watch as Yerin’s showed genuine shock at your revelation. “Wait, for real?” She gasps. “That’s too bad. You two look great together!”

“Yerin, seriously!”

“Sorry, I’ll just go get some fresh air.” You excused yourself as politely as you could before standing up to head out the front door.

The now-cooled air pricked at your skin, making you breathe a bit more easily than in the humid interior of the restaurant. You lowered yourself to the narrow road’s curbside, choosing to sit down and admire the quiet neighborhood’s lights. It felt a lot better out here than inside, making you feel guilty for not enjoying the celebration more than you should have as one of the main characters for the project.

If you had refused, it would’ve been a bad look. You didn’t have a schedule for the night to use as a reason, and lying to the people who gave you the opportunity to work on your biggest project yet was out of the question. At the same time, you think of what you would’ve been doing instead if you had said no to their dinner offer. Laying down in your apartment while eating takeout wasn’t such a bad scene. The sliding of the aged wooden door brought you out of your thoughts.

“See? Just what I said,” a monotonous voice pointed out. “No self-preservation skills whatsoever.”

You rolled your eyes at the comment. “It’s just the outside of a family-owned barbecue establishment, Seungmin. There’s practically no one out here at this time.”

“Does that not make it worse?” He gave you a look of disapproval, crouching down slowly to join you on the curbside. “You have a knack for making people worry, do you?”

“Then stop worrying!” You snapped—his words reminding you of the situation you had just fled from to find peace.

Seungmin raised his hands in surrender. “Woah,” he exclaims. “Alright, something is clearly wrong. Talk to me.”

You could only turn away, feeling yourself unable to face him. It was an awkward subject to bring up, and you told yourself that Yerin had already promised that the crew was tight-lipped. Objectively, there was nothing more left for you to worry about. Subjectively, the implication bothered you. Seungmin furrowed his eyebrows at your reaction.

“Hey,” he calls out softly. “Did someone say something to you back there? You know I can beat them up, right?”

You grimaced at his attempts to comfort you. “You’re so violent,” you frowned. “What if it was a woman?”

“Oh, then I’m out of that. Sorry.”

“So full of shit, that’s what you are.”

Seungmin chuckled. “And that I am,” he replies, amused. “But seriously, I’m all ears if you want.”

A bitter taste announced its presence on your tongue, your mind forming a whirlpool of thoughts once again. “Why? Since we’re friends?” You spat out.

The space around you turned silent with Seungmin’s lack of response. You fought the urge to give him a discrete glance, just to see the damage you created. It took a few more seconds of the evening breeze being the only one talking between you two before Seungmin eventually spoke up.

“I’ll let you in on a secret,” he says in a low voice while running a hand through his hair to pull it back. His hairstyle from earlier was long gone, leaving you to wonder how he got rid of the hairspray so easily. “I actually don’t like that we’re friends.”

He watched as you deflated rapidly at his confession.

“Not in that way!” Seungmin splutters. “It’s just that I—ugh.” He brought up a palm to rub across his face.

Now, you were lost. The path of where the conversation was going became lost to you, making you stand in uncharted territory. Seungmin stayed silent for a few more seconds, trying to collect his thoughts. You let him have the time.

“You might curse at me for this or even put a distance between ourselves. But since this is our last day seeing each other on set until the movie’s release, I’ll take the chance now before I end up regretting I didn’t.”

“Seungmin, what—”

“The thought of staying just friends with you has been bothering me for a while now. It was like I was subjecting myself to my own personalized torture, where I couldn’t get away even if I tried. I’m still not sure what this entirely means for me—for us, but what I know is that platonic would never satisfy me at this rate.” He purses his lips, contemplating how to continue.

Eventually, Seungmin raised his head slightly to meet your eyes. “It’s odd. Admittedly, I’ve had my fair share of romantic relationships in the past, yet none of them could compare to what I was feeling now. At first, I thought it was just an obsession with you. Something that stemmed from my previous interest in you back at our senior level of academy—”

“You had a what?”

“I know,” he laughs humorlessly. “My friends used to tease me that I had a crush; that was why I was bothering you so much. Back then, I just brushed them off as jokes, telling them I only saw you as a rival. Well, look where that ended up.”

You were frozen in shock at his confession. “Seungmin,” you start. “I don’t know what to say.” He shakes his head.

“You don’t have to. Just let me have this moment to pour everything out,” he says. “Y/N, to put it into words, I feel at ease when I’m with you. At the same time, it always felt as if I was constantly worried about when it would end. That I would be left on my own again once you had finished your business with me. I tried to reason with myself, to put an acceptable distance between us in the case that what I had wasn’t the best for you. But I couldn’t do it, Y/N. Every time your voice entered my ears, it was like becoming a child. Unable to control their emotions and doing things without a second thought just because it felt like the right thing to do at the moment.” Seungmin looks up to the sky.

“That kiss we had—I think it was the happiest I’ve been in a while. It might have been just a job to you, because you could say it really was, but for me, it was finally a chance to express everything I had been holding back for the past few days. All I want you to remember is that nothing from that act was faked,” he exhales. “I really don’t think this is something you feel for a friend, so—”

“Let’s see where this takes us.”

“—What?”

“I’m not sure how you expect me to top what you just told me, but I’ll try with my own words.” You teased him with a genuine smile. “Seungmin, I feel strikingly similar to what you feel about me. Just maybe not as intensely yet.”

You let yourself move at the need to cup his face as he continues to look at you in shock. “I’m sure you already know that I spent quite a long time hating your guts, so the fact that I even started to feel an attraction towards you was shocking, to say the least. I was never one to believe in fictional tropes, despite my lifelong yearning to experience a love like that even once. As an actor, I’ve made a career out of acting those scenes out for people to see. But also as an actor, I knew more than anyone else how much real life would never be able to compare to the scripts I’ve seen brought to life on set. They were methodological, a feeling so carefully put together to achieve its maximum potential—real life isn’t like that.” You inhale deeply.

“Things happen for no reason, like they don’t for no reason either. And in a way, I felt both with you.” Your hands lowered themselves towards his hands to hold them tightly. “Enemies-to-lovers? It was laughable at first, but as the days went on, everything just fell into place as if it always belonged there. You feel like a child in front of me? I feel like I’ve never felt warmth in my entire life until you came along. When I first got out of the car yesterday, it was only then that I described urban life as cold and lonely in my entire life. I thought that maybe it was because I got too attached to the homey feel of the countryside that everything I’ve ever known somehow became foreign in a few days. But maybe it was just because of you.”

You found yourself giggling at the dumbfounded look he still had on his face, mind slow to take in what was happening in front of him. “What I’m saying is that I would love to see where this takes us. Right now, you can’t expect me to fall in love all of a sudden, especially considering our past. Though if you try hard enough, perhaps that might be just around the corner. What do you say?” Seungmin finally broke free from his trance, eyes watering.

“I’ll show you hard work that you’ve never seen before in your life.”

“And I believe it.” You pinch his cheek before standing up. “Now, let’s go back inside? The party is still ongoing.”

Seungmin clumsily follows, calling out just in time before you opened the door. “Wait—I still don’t have your number.” You gave him an astounded stare.

“Seriously?” You breathe out. “We went through all that, and we still don’t have each other’s numbers?”

Seungmin voices out his offense. “Well, I’m sorry that I was missing all my shots!”

“So, does that mean you’re gonna take a shot now, loverboy?”

“For you, yes.”

taglist 🔖— thank you for waiting ! 🫶

@fairyki @hysgf @euncsace @comet-falls @starlostseungmin @ameliesaysshoo @hyunverse @djeniryuu @lixxpix @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @feelikecinderella @abbiestearsricochet @heelovesmeknot @floating-moon-dust @yoontaethings @hwangism143 @jazziesssss @hwangflora @vixensss @yourlocalstayyxi @dollce-exe @bambispostsblog @authentic-65 @dandelions-143

[thrfted]

꩜ DATING MR. SILVAIR .ᐟ

Mix of other + our world headcanons (Italics is in the other world’s language!)

For the anon who requested! Vry glad you liked Mr. Crawling’s, thanks for the trust w Silvair :D Feel like I see him a lot.. nicer..? than most hcs I’ve seen and I’m not sure if that’s good or bad for mebjfhdsfhjd

(seen in ending 3) Mr. Silvair loves studying and learning about you, but he still feels bad if you seem upset or get hurt. If or when he doesn’t understand why you’re upset, he’ll ask what he did and apologize. He values learning about these differences in emotions, communication, perspective, etc.

He isn’t naturally physically affectionate, but he doesn’t refuse your requests or affection! He at least pats your head or back, not letting go until you do (unless he’s got things to do). Initially confused, he admits it feels nice when you hug him and that he’s started looking forward to (or at least expecting) it.

^ You can ask him for a forehead kiss or two, even if he doesn’t get why. He understands that it makes you happy and it isn’t like it’s doing him any harm anyway!  You’ll probably have to show him what a kiss is though. Will he find it amusing if you become flustered kissing him first? Say “Cute”? Probably.

You and Mr. Chopped become close friends too, sometimes (playfully) gossiping to each other about Mr. Silvair while he’s off doing experiments. There’s a few times Mr. Silvair seems to get jealous by the amount of time you guys spend together, especially if he catches you laughing at Mr. Chopped’s antics. He takes initiative and tries to have one-on-one time with you after that.

Maybe he does tie his hair back and we don’t know it, but I think he’d appreciate the idea if you brought it up! Sometimes it’s a half-up look, a simple ponytail, or you braid it back if you want. As long as it’s out of his face and not difficult to take out, he doesn’t mind.

If you enjoy/are comfortable with it, he might ask for your help with experiments, or… you? Your blood sometimes, at least. But he respects you if you’d rather stay away, even if he’s disappointed for a while.

Both of you spend quite a bit of time walking and talking while trying to find a new room when need be. You start to teach him your language, and he uses a few words and phrases when possible.

Mr. Silvair is more focused on experiments rather than interior decoration. But whether you ask to decorate his place in the other world or show him your home in ours, he grows a fondness for your taste. He even brings home things that remind him of you to see if you'll enjoy them.

^ In the same branch, if you bring something you think he’ll like, he takes good care of it, making sure its always somewhere safe!

Of course, he can’t really do the same studies in our world, or at least get his subjects in the same way. Be warned that he may or may not want to go out and find test subjects… somewhere…?

But on the bright side, it’s literally a whole new world! With so much available to him, at least he has other ways to learn than capturing and cutting things or people up.

Mr. Silvair as a good cook / kitchen helper? Really good at cutting up food, even if he doesn’t want to eat it.

In general he’s pretty good around the house! He remembers chores and keeps his space tidy for both your sakes, helping out wherever he can.

His hair is already pretty, but imagine how nice it’d look and feel after a shower! You keep running your fingers through his hair and he tilts his head. “You like? Pretty?” You nod and ask “Me pretty?” and Mr. Silvair smiles. “Pretty.” (Subconsciously, he starts paying closer attention to your hair or appearance, and how you take care of yourself.)

^ He isn’t particular about scents (other than preferring subtler ones) and will likely use whatever you use unless asked otherwise. Don’t expect him to pick up a hair or skincare routine though.

The first few days especially, Mr. Silvair is so focused on seeing and learning as much as possible, that he’ll likely be up late. He doesn’t really get the whole day and night thing, so you have to tell him that rest is good, and that you’re worried for him. “You worried?” “Yes. We rest.” “...Okay.”

His understanding of love is still different from yours, but (I think) he does care about you, and loves you in his own way! He makes sure you’re safe, helps you when you’re injured, and enjoys spending time with you. I’m not sure if he’d say “I love you” (since he doesn’t comprehend what that really means) but he’d at least reassure you that he likes you and finds you interesting :3

^ Though I’ll say if you’re a romance genre fan in our world, he picks up on the usage of “I love you” in media and if it matches his emotions, he might try it out and see how you react

[moonlit-heartbreak]

Love Languages

Xaden, Liam, Bodhi, Garrick x Reader Warnings: Slight spoilers for FW and IF, some suggestive comments and themes but nothing too explicit a/n: I love these men a little bit too much, so now you all get to enjoy my takes on each of their love languages for my first post🤭. It’s a little short and all over the place, but once my finals are over expect some longer works. Definitely let me know what you all think!

Xaden - Acts of Service

Listen, he's an important guy both as wingleader and a lieutenant and now in being on the front lines of a war, so he has to make sure to keep everyone's respect, and of course keep them all a little scared of him, so he can't get all lovey-dovey with you in public

Instead I see him being big on acts of service. Leaving you an extra piece of bread he grabbed at breakfast that morning, sharpening your swords/daggers so you're set to go for training, things of that nature

He would want to be there for you and let you know that he's looking out for you and acts of service is the perfect way for him to do that subtly but still being more involved in directly making you happy

Don't get me wrong though, when you're alone the acts of service definitely don't stop and he's good at what he does. With this I don’t mean JUST sex (even though it’d be amazing), but he would also love to brush your hair, give you a massage, whatever he can do to make you feel loved and cared for after a long day of classes and training

If there’s something specific you liked back home like a specific snack or item just know that once he finds out he’s going to be bribing one of the fliers to get it for him during a supply run so he can surprise you with it just so he can see your face light up

It works out perfect for you because not only is he making you feel like the most special person in the world with everything he does for you and how well he knows you, but getting perks like him keeping you off the schedule for your least favorite chores doesn't hurt either

The moral of the story is that he would literally do anything to make you happy, and despite how tough he acts you've got him completely wrapped around you finger

Liam - Words of Affirmation

For someone who's experienced so much loss before, he still manages to be SO kind and caring and this would 100% come through in the way he acts with his significant other, especially in terms of how he speaks to them

In public this would probably come off more as supportive and encouraging comments, helpful tips for training, or even just a quick compliment thrown in here or there. He's one of the more laid back out of all of the guys, but he still knows not to let his kindness be mistaken for weakness or allow anyone to try and use you against him, so he's careful to keep a good balance of keeping his guard up and being sweet with you

With that though, neither of you really have anything to worry about. He's the strongest cadet in his year and he trusts that you can hold your own so he'd still be pretty open with you in public

He's the type of guy who would never want to say goodbye without an 'I love you" thrown in there, even if you'd had a disagreement or you're (somehow) upset with him. Words are so important to him and he's going to make sure to tell you how he feels no matter what

I mean think about it, with all those letter he wrote to Sloane this man is a master at communication and he knows how to do it well

SO good at reassuring you. Ever doubting yourself or your abilities? Worried you’re not being a good enough partner? Nervous about opening up to him about something? He knows exactly what to say to calm you down or make you feel better every single time without fail. He just has such a way with words, and when he speaks to you in that soft "everything's going to be alright" voice there's no way you wouldn't feel at least a bit better

I have no doubt in my mind that he would have the sweetest nicknames for you and know exactly what to say when you need it, he’s just the sweetest thing to grace the continent and you’ll be reminded of that every time he speaks his sweet words that make your heart flutter

Bodhi - Physical Touch

This man... I definitely see him lovinggg physical touch. He needs you like he needs air to breathe and he isn't afraid to let the rest of the world know it

He's a confident guy so naturally he'd love to show off his significant other; walking with an arm slung over your shoulder or around your waist, sitting right next to you during meals so that your arms and legs brush against each other, holding hands or even just loosely linking your fingers together while you study, he loves it all

You two have definitely been told to get a room once or twice during training when your sparring sessions get a little too intense (gods bless the innocent bystanders who have to bear witness to that, especially the poor boys who are practically his brothers)

Obviously he knows how to balance his leadership responsibilities with spending time with you so he knows when he has to take a step back and get serious, but trust me, every chance he gets he's finding a way to be right next to you

When you guys are alone... oh boy get ready to be next to him all night long. Whether you’re laying together on one of your beds just talking before you settle in to sleep for the night, sitting on his lap while you both work on your own assignments, showering together, he’ll find a way to make everything a team effort just to be as close to you as possible

Don’t worry though, he knows when to give you your space so if there’s ever a day where you simply want a little alone time he would never push any boundaries and would respect whatever you wanted. However, if you’re trying to avoid him because you’re upset or anything of that nature he’s going to figure out what’s wrong and make sure you’re alright

Bodhi Durran the man that you are... At the end of the day he would be such a sweet partner to you and all of his actions, from full on cuddling to just brushing past each other briefly in the hallway, proves to you every day that he adores you

Garrick - Quality Time

Garrick is definitely more on the serious side, especially in public, but don't underestimate him as a partner because this man knows how to make you feel loved

Being close to you serves multiple purposes for him; it lets him keep an eye on you to make sure you're safe, and it simply brings him the sense of comfort he always gets from being near you

He’s super secure in himself and you, not doubting either of your abilities or your love for one another but just getting to be around you makes him happy. Whether it be sitting together to study, you talking his ear off about whatever antics you and your squad got up to that day, or even just training at the same time even if you’re on opposite sides of the gym sparring with different partners. Spending time with you or just being near each other is how he shows that he's there for you and that he loves you so he'll take whatever time he can get

With spending so much time with you and the fact that he’s a very observant guy, he would be able to read you like a book. There’s no hiding how you’re feeling because he’ll pick up on all of your little tells and know exactly how to go about making you feel better

Along with how observant he is and how deeply he knows you, I also feel like he would give amazing advice too. Disagreement with a friend? Not able to get the hang of a new weapon you’ve been training with? Stressed about an exam and not sure how to study? He has advice for all of it, and he knows when to step in and help you but also when you’ll want to be left alone to figure things out yourself

Whenever you both get a day off (which wouldn’t be often, I mean you have a war to prepare for) it’s always spent together. When you’re able to get some time together in Aretia, he’d take you to some tucked away corner of Riorson House him and Xaden would hang out in as kids just so you could get a few uninterrupted moments alone together, which you both cherish more and more as you inevitably get busier

He might be one of the most intimidating out of all of his friends and arguably out of most other riders as well, but underneath that sexy muscly exterior, he’s got a crazy soft spot for you; and while it might not be fully apparent to anyone who isn’t looking closely enough, you know just how much he loves you and that’s all that matters to the two of you

[hookhausenschips]

His. {CS55}

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Summary: He was toxic, everything about him but neither could stay away. Not when he's staked his claim.

WC: 2.3k

Warnings: toxic, situationship, smutty smut smut, begging, praise, biting, possessiveness, degradation

18+

• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

He looked at me, with a smirk on his face. “Is this what you wanted, huh?” he asked, as he pushed my head down, making me look at him from beneath my lashes.

“Y-yes,” I stuttered out, feeling his warm breath tickle my skin.

I felt him shift a bit, his hand going to my hip, lifting my leg over his head.

“Say it,” he demanded.

“I-I wanted this,” I panted out.

I knew what he wanted to hear. I knew what it did to him.

“Tell me, amor. Tell me what you wanted. Say it for me.”

I knew I was playing into his hands. But at that moment, I didn’t care. I wanted it just as much as he did.

“I wanted your cock in my mouth,” I spat out, feeling myself get wetter as he smirked at me.

He didn’t say anything else. Instead, he shoved his cock down my throat, making me gag slightly.

I looked up at him through watery eyes, and he smirked.

“Good girl,” he murmured, thrusting into my throat. “Such a good fucking girl for me.”

A few months ago, I thought we were done.

I thought we’d finally managed to break free from our toxic relationship.

But we’d found ourselves back in bed together a month later.

We couldn’t seem to stay away from each other. Every time we tried to take a break, we found ourselves right back where we started.

I didn’t know how long I could keep this up. At the end of the day, he didn’t want me. He only wanted to fuck. And I’d been foolish to think it’d ever be more than that.

I’d told him I couldn’t keep doing this.

But I always came running back to him.

He’d come to my flat after his race, angry as ever that we hadn’t spoken for a week.

But that’s what happened when we broke up. We stopped communicating until one of us caved.

It always ended up being me.

That’s why I was currently on my knees, sucking his cock.

I heard a knock on the door, and I froze, looking up at Carlos in panic.

“Fuck, I can’t believe we forgot to lock the door,” he growled out, grabbing my hair to keep me in place.

“What if it’s a friend?” I asked, worried about getting caught.

“Then let’s hope they have a good show,” he smirked. “I’m not stopping now.”

I felt him thrust into me as he said it, and I couldn’t help but moan around his cock. His words did something to me. I was so turned on, I could barely think straight.

He leaned forward a bit more, making sure his cock went even deeper in my throat. I gagged slightly, trying to hold in my tears. But he didn’t let up, shoving even deeper.

I tried to push him off, but he only held me tighter.

“I’m going to come, and you’re going to swallow,” he growled. “Do you understand me?”

I nodded my head, whimpering around his cock as he fucked my throat.

“Good girl,” I heard him say before he came down my throat, the hot liquid making me gag and cough.

I pushed him off as soon as he let go of my hair, backing up and coughing on the floor. Carlos just lay back on the bed, looking satisfied.

“Next time, lock the door, Y/N,” he chuckled.

I glared up at him, wiping my mouth off with the back of my hand. “Next time, maybe I won’t come back to you.”

I knew I’d only said it in anger. We both knew there’d be a next time.

He smirked at me. “We’ll see about that.”

I stood up quickly, smoothing out my dress.

“Are you leaving already?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at me.

“Yeah,” I answered. “I need to get home.”

He didn’t stop me as I grabbed my purse and left his flat.

But the look he gave me as I went made me shiver. He’d be coming for me again. Soon. And I knew I wouldn’t be able to say no. Not ever. Not to him. Not to Carlos Sainz. Not to my Spaniard. Not to the love of my life. Not to my toxic situation. Not to my downfall. Not to the devil himself. Not to Satan. Not to my master. Not to my king.

“See you soon, Y/N,” I heard as I walked out. I didn’t turn around, just kept walking.

And I knew exactly what he meant by those three little words.

It was a few weeks later, and I was finally out of the city for work.

I was staying at a hotel for three nights. It’d been good to get out. I hadn’t seen Carlos since the last time we broke up and it was better that way.

I wasn’t thinking about him.

I’d moved on. And it felt amazing.

I was finally healing from his wounds.

I hadn’t answered any of his messages or calls.

And it’d been bliss.

I was getting ready for my meeting when I got a message from an unknown number. My heart skipped a beat as I saw his name pop up on the screen.

My hands trembled slightly as I opened the text.

“Don’t think you can avoid me forever, amor,” he wrote. “Meet me in the hotel lobby in 5 minutes.”

I stared at the message for a minute, wondering what the hell was going on. How did he know I was in town? How did he know which hotel I was at?

“Carlos,” I typed out. “Why?”

“I heard you were in town,” he answered. “Thought I’d come say hello.”

I read his text a few times. He knew I was leaving the city. He knew where I was. And now he knew what hotel I was staying at.

He was stalking me.

The thought sent a shiver down my spine.

“Meet you downstairs?” I asked him.

“See you then,” he replied.

I stared at my phone for a few minutes, trying to decide what to do.

But deep down, I knew it was already decided. I’d go meet him. I’d fall into his arms like the fool that I was.

He was wearing a black hoodie and jeans when I saw him in the lobby.

His dark hair was messy, like he’d just woken up.

“Hola, amor,” he said as I walked to him.

He held out his arms, and I stepped into them, burying my face in his chest.

“Why are you here?” I mumbled against his shirt.

“I told you,” he said. “To say hello.”

“Carlos,” I sighed. “Why are you really here?”

He laughed a bit, holding me even tighter. “Because you were leaving the city without me. And that couldn’t stand.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean exactly that,” he replied. “You’re not going anywhere without me. Never again.”

He squeezed me tight as he spoke, making it hard for me to breathe.

“But-”

“You’re not leaving me again, Y/N,” he interrupted. “Never again. You’re mine. You belong to me.”

“Carlos,” I protested. “You don’t mean that.”

He stepped back and cupped my face. “Yes, I do. I want you. Always.”

He kissed me then, and I felt myself melting into him.

I’d give in to him. I knew that. We both knew that.

“Come with me,” he whispered as he pulled back. “Let’s go back to my room.”

I looked at the elevator, then back to him.

“No,” I said finally. “Not today.”

“Amor, come on,” he whined, pouting at me. “Just a few hours.”

I shook my head. “No. I have a meeting. I can’t miss it.”

His face fell slightly, and I felt guilty for a second before pushing the feeling aside.

“I’m sorry, Carlos,” I said. “Maybe later?”

He smirked at me again. “Oh, there will be a later.”

With that, he leaned down to kiss me goodbye.

And I watched him walk away.

I walked into the restaurant, looking for my co-workers. I saw them at a table by the window and made my way over.

“Hey,” I greeted them as I sat down.

They all greeted me back, asking how my flight was. I chatted with them for a while before the waiter came by to take our order.

I ordered some soup and salad and chatted some more with them before my food came.

I dug in immediately, feeling a bit starving since I’d missed breakfast.

I was eating when I felt my phone vibrate on my lap.

I glanced at the screen, seeing Carlos’ name.

I rolled my eyes slightly and tried to focus on my work lunch.

But then I felt it vibrate again.

And again.

And again. And again. And again. All within a minute of each other.

I couldn’t focus on the conversation anymore, feeling annoyed by Carlos and his incessant messaging.

“Excuse me for a second,” I muttered to my co-workers as I stood up from my seat.

They told me to go ahead and I walked away, to a quiet corner near the kitchen.

I opened my phone and saw the string of messages from Carlos.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“Having lunch,” I replied.

“Who are you having lunch with?”

“My co-workers,” I answered.

“You can’t take this much time off from me, amor,” he told me. “I have a need for you. One that can’t be met if you’re not here.”

“Carlos, you can’t expect me to be with you all the time.”

He sent me a picture of his cock, already hard, and I gasped at the sight of it.

“I can. And you know why.”

I did. Because I was his whore. Because I could never say no to him.

“Carlos,” I moaned out. “I can’t.”

But deep down, I was lying. He was pulling me in again. The picture was turning me on. I could feel it in my veins.

I needed him. And he knew that. And he was going to use that against me.

I looked back at the table, feeling bad for leaving my co-workers but knowing I had to go.

“I have to go,” I texted Carlos before grabbing my purse and walking out of the restaurant.

My heart pounded in my chest as I made my way to his hotel room.

I felt like a teenager sneaking out of the house, but I didn’t care.

I knew I was doing something bad, but I was a slave to him. A slave to his cock. A slave to his touch. A slave to the pleasure he made me feel.

I knocked on the door and he opened it a few seconds later. He was completely naked, and his cock was hard already.

“Amor,” he purred as he opened the door. “Welcome back.”

I walked in and he shut the door behind me, pushing me up against it.

“Missed me?” he smirked as he kissed me.

I nodded, and he pushed my dress up, hooking my legs around his waist.

“I’m going to take you here,” he said. “Right up against the door.”

I moaned out as he bit my neck, his teeth sinking into my skin. He loved marking me. And I loved wearing his marks. I loved letting him claim me.

“Do it,” I whispered. “Fuck me, Carlos. Please.”

He smirked again as he rubbed the tip of his cock against my entrance.

“You’re so needy,” he said. “Like a little slut.”

I moaned again at his words, loving the way they made me feel. He was a master at playing dirty. And I was a sucker for his tricks.

“Please, Carlos,” I begged. “Please.”

He leaned in and bit my neck again, thrusting his cock into me at the same time.

I gasped at the feeling of him inside me and he wrapped his arms around me, holding me in place as he thrust in and out of me.

“Good girl,” he whispered in my ear as he moved faster. “Good fucking girl.”

I moaned and whimpered, loving the sound of his praise. I knew I was his good girl. And he loved it.

He bit down on my neck and thrust into me at the same time, making me cry out as I came around his cock.

“You like that?” he asked as he continued to thrust into me.

“Yes,” I panted. “God, yes.”

He bit down again and I felt myself clench around him, making him moan slightly.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “You’re so tight. I’m going to fill you up now.”

I nodded, biting my lip as he kept thrusting in and out. I felt the hot liquid flood my pussy as he came, and he kept thrusting into me as he held onto my neck with his teeth.

“Mine,” he mumbled. “You’re mine.”

I didn’t answer, just held onto him as he moved inside me. I knew we’d do this again. We’d keep fucking each other until we were tired of each other. We’d fuck until we hated each other. Until we couldn’t stand the sight of each other.

But it’d never end.

I’d never let it end. He’d never let it end.

We’d keep coming back for each other. And it’d always end in me being on my knees for him, taking his cock down my throat. And it’d always end with his cum down my throat. Or on my tits. Or on my face.

It’d always be that way.

And I’d always let it happen.

Because he owned me.

Because I was his slave.

Because I was his little slut.

Because I was Carlos Sainz’ whore.

And that’s all I’d ever be.

CS55 Taglist: @tallrock35, @yourbane, @lightdragonrayne, @really-fucking-tired, @evie-119, @ilivbullyingjeongin, @xoscar03, @miarabanana, @icecoldtires, @cmleitora, @d3kstar, @omgsuperstarg

F1 Taglist: @tallrock35, @yourbane, @hiireadstuff, @really-fucking-tired, @evie-119, @donteventry-itdude, @spookystitchery, @dhanihamidi, @decafmickey, @cmleitora, @d3kstar, @mellowluka, @ysnhua, @omgsuperstarg

[eneiyri]

i don't want you to go to bed, mad at me

pairing: jake x reader word count: 2.2k type: angst, fluff. synopsis: in the middle of an argument, you want to go to sleep— but jake refuses for either of you to go to bed feeling mad at one another. warnings: slight arguing, mentions of breaking up, jake being the sweetest guy he is, there’s no specific mention of the reason why the argument started, overthinking, reassurance, comfort, lmk if there’s more i shld add

make sure to listen to this song as you read. it is the song that the story is based on. [ mad by ne-yo ] (rlly sets the mood, ngl)

Before you and Jake started dating, there has always been one established rule that the both of you agreed on. Never go to bed mad at the other. Always resolve and communicate about your problems before going to sleep. Never leave it for the next day.

It remained consistent, until tonight. For the first time in your four-year-long relationship, you think you can’t follow that rule as the millionth yawn leaves your lips in the middle of an argument.

Jake sat on the couch; his face buried in his hands as he heaved a sigh again. No words were shared, and the silence between the both of you was deafening. After yelling over each other for nearly 20 minutes straight, you figured it was stupid to open your mouth again— knowing it’d lead to another screaming match.

Seated on the other couch, you found yourself fidgeting with the bracelet on your wrist. “This isn’t working, we’re going back and forth.” You tell him, tone different from the one you used earlier. He looks at you, shoulders slumping. “Well, if you’d just listen to me, we would be done with this.”

“Jake, you won’t even listen to me.” Tightness is evident in your eyes and voice as you look at him. He clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “This is so stupid.” He muttered under his breath, and you could barely hear it. But you do.

“Well, I’m sorry if it’s so stupid, maybe, just like you said— if we weren’t trying to scream over each other, this would’ve been done an hour ago.” You tell him, trying to fight your drowsiness.

Jake looks at you when you say that, taking in the tone of your voice. Before he could open his mouth to speak, you rose from your seat on the couch, crossing your arms. “I’m going to bed,” You announce, the words leaving your mouth causing a small trigger of panic in your lover's mind.

“Y/n,” He gets up as well, trying to get you to look at him— not liking where this is going. You look down at your hands, “We both are tired. As much as I want to talk about this…” Your words trail off as you move towards the door frame between the living room and the hallway. “I think we need to cool off before we say anything too crazy.”

You don’t see it, but Jake’s expression falls as soon as those words leave your lips, and he curses to himself as you submerge into the hallway, away from his sight. “Fuck,” He sits back down, running a hand frustratingly through his hair.

After half an hour passed, you stood in front of the mirror, brushing your teeth after finishing your skincare routine. The door to the bathroom opened, and Jake had a pinched mouth as he moved past you, reaching for his toothbrush.

You quickly finished up brushing your teeth, refusing to be in the same room as him any longer— the silence killing you slowly. You refused to show him how vulnerable you are, choosing to avoid his eyes as you put your toothbrush away and trudged out of the bathroom.

As soon as you shut the bathroom door behind you, Jake stared at himself in the mirror. He hated every second of that silent treatment of yours, and he was determined to fix things before it could lead into the next day.

You were lying on your side of the bed, turned away from Jake’s. You feel the bed dip from behind you, and Jake doesn’t spare another second before talking to you. “I don’t want to go to bed. Not like this,” he tells you.

Your lip’s part, but no words leave your mouth.

“What about the rule?” He asks when you don’t give him a response. “What happened to not going to bed angry at one another?” He adds, desperation laced in his voice.

When those words leave his mouth, you can’t help but feel bad. It was a rule you both established, and agreed on— so this time, you take a minute to think of how to respond. But before anything, Jake unknowingly shuts those thoughts down as soon as he mumbles a short ‘good night’.

In defeat, you move carefully, turning to look at him. Only to be met by Jake’s back facing you, just like you had done to him.

Biting your lip, sadness crept into your body as you turned away once more— the tiredness in your body dissipating like it was never there to begin with. Still, you try to fight with your thoughts and attempt to go to sleep.

You looked at your phone for the nth time, watching time pass. It’s been 3 hours, and your restless attempts of going to sleep have gone nowhere. You fought internally with yourself and kept turning, looking towards Jake after you assumed he’d fallen asleep.

Your boyfriend’s back is still facing you, and your emotions get the best of you as tears well in your eyes— threatening to slip out. He fell asleep so easily.

After a couple more minutes, you blink your tears away and decide to text your best friend, knowing she would be up. Hey Ningning, can I come to sleep over?

Receiving a text message of confusion and follow-up of approval, you sit up from your spot— but before you make the move to get up, you look at your boyfriend once more. A frown settles on your face, looking at his ruffled hair pressed against his pillow. As much as you badly wanted to run your hands through it, you shook your head and looked back to your side of the bed, ready to get up.

“What are you doing?” Jake’s voice fills the silence of the room. You had no idea, but during that entire time you were stirring around— he did not get even a blink of sleep. He felt the bed shift whenever you’d turn to look at him, but when he felt the dip from your side rise, he knew you’d gotten up.

“I’m going to Ningning’s apartment.” You mumble, unable to look at him. Jake stills at this and sits up slowly when he processes your words. Your phone is swiped from your hands as quickly as you’d reach to grab it.

Going to bed pissed at one another is already a living hell for Jake, but you being pissed to the point where you feel like you can’t even sleep in the same bed as him? No. He had to do something. Quick.

You finally turn to look at Jake, “Jaeyun, give it back.” Your voice is small but desperate. It’s only then that you realize you can actually see your boyfriend, the moonlight slipping through the window perfectly structuring his facial features. “No.” He shook his head at you, putting your phone on his side.

“No?” You echo what he said, confused. “Not until we talk properly.” He exhales deeply, clearly tired from the past couple of hours.

Silence engulfs your bedroom, and you can’t bring yourself to respond to him anymore, thoughts filling your mind when the words ‘talk’ echo in your head. Talking could mean anything, you thought to yourself.

Jake takes in your silence, and he hates how quiet you’ve gotten. For some weird reason, he found himself wishing you’d just yell at him again, just like the both of you had been hours prior. But he could tell you were thinking again, and this time— you completely shut him out. And he hates that during times like these, he’s unable to read your thoughts like he usually can.

“Baby—”

“Are we breaking up?” You asked, voice shaking slightly. Jake’s facial expression drops almost immediately when those words leave your mouth, “What?” He lets out, tone heavily coated in disbelief.

A gasp leaves your lips, and you’re quick to bring a hand to your mouth when you realize you said that out loud. “Sorry,” you tell him, looking away. For once, you felt like you couldn’t look at your boyfriend. “I didn’t mean to say it out loud.”

“Holy shit.” Is all Jake could say for a couple of seconds, before looking at you like you’ve gone crazy. “Is that what you were thinking?” He asked you, hovering his other hand over arm as a signal to look at him. “That I want to break up?”

Hardly being able to speak correctly, you frown at him as soon as your eyes examine his soft gaze. “I thought…” You started, and his fingers unconsciously began to caress your hands. “I don’t know, it sounds like—”

“We are not breaking up,” He spoke softly when he cut you off, making you lie back in bed with him. You yelp and almost scold him before he continues.

“Yeah, we argued, and yeah, we said mean things to one another, but we are not breaking up.” He’s looking you in the eye, his other hand finding your waist— meaning to pull you closer towards him. “This is something we are working through together, it’s what will bring us closer.”

Tears threaten to fall from your eyes, and you desperately try to fight them— only to fail miserably when Jake smiles sadly at you. “I love you, Y/n. Fights and arguments are normal, and as long as we’re alright by the end of them— before we go to bed— I know I’ll love you even more as the next day comes by.”

You cry into his chest as he buries his face into your neck, almost like magnets as you press into each other’s warmth. “Talk to me, baby.” Jake spoke after a couple of minutes, desperate to hear your voice once more, “Just let me hear you.”

“Jaeyun,” Your voice sounds like a drawl, hardly above a whisper. “Jaeyun, I love you.” Is what leaves your lips, letting your fingers grasp onto Jake’s hoodie. “I hate it when we argue.”

He frowns, pulling back and looking you in the eye. “Me, too.” He spoke softly, pressing a kiss on your forehead. “We always want to be the one who’s right.”

“I don’t even remember what started this argument,” You give him a soft smile, and Jake’s pupils dilate at the sight. “I think it only got worse when I mentioned going to bed…”

Jake hums, “We were in the middle of arguing baby, I didn’t want you going to sleep mad at me.” He moves a strand of your hair behind your ear, staring at you. “I couldn’t even sleep.”

You give him a look of confusion, “But Yun,” You started, and you swear that his eyes brightened up at your usual nickname of endearment for him. “Yeah, baby?” He responds, his voice soft— urging you to continue.

“You were asleep… You stayed in one spot for three hours.” You mumble, head resting comfortably on his bicep, his hand landing on your waist as he tugged you closer.

“Baby, I was awake.” He tells you. “You have no idea how many times I wanted to turn around and take you into my arms.” He heaves a sigh, shaking his head at memory. He feels your body shake slightly, and Jake quirks an eyebrow. “Are you cryi—”

“I can’t believe you stayed still for three whole hours…” You laugh into his neck, your shoulders shaking. Jake lets out a breath of relief, all the tension leaving his body when he realizes you weren’t crying but laughing.

After a couple seconds, he finds himself laughing too, “Yeah, me too.”

You look at him for a couple seconds, and he seems to catch your gaze. “Hi,” He lets out, his voice sounding breathless. A soft smile forms on your lips, “Hi.” You responded in the same energy. “Everything’s okay between us, right?” You ask him, searching for reassurance.

“Because I’m honestly beginning to feel sleepy.” You mumble groggily, throwing an arm around his body.

Jake stares at you for a couple of seconds, before pressing his lips on yours. You’re taken aback for a couple seconds, but quickly melt into the kiss when he pulls you closer.

You two kiss for a while, and Jake pulls away to let you catch your breath. He smiles against your lips, “Yeah, everything’s okay. Everything’s perfect, baby.” He says it twice, to let it sink in your head that it’s okay. That you two will be perfectly fine tomorrow morning. Jake grins, “We can sleep now.” He spoke softly as your eyes fluttered close. “Good night, Y/n. I'll be right here when you wake up in the morning."

“Good night, Yun. See you.”

copyright © eneiyri 2023 a/n: jake brain rot but when am i not

[zer0pm]

Imagine Luis using the communicator to call you. Constantly.

“Luis? What’s your status?”

“No bueno, my friend. I’m in a lot of pain.”

Your head immediately snaps up at attention to these words. Leon, who answered the call as the device was on his person, shares your look of alarm and nods in understanding to prepare to come to the Spaniard’s aid.

“Where are you?” Leon inquires, maneuvering the communicator between you two so that you can listen in as well. “How serious are your injuries?”

The man on the other line groans, “I’d say pretty serious. Severe, even.”

Filled with worry, you were about to join the line of questioning until his voice cuts you off before you could utter a sound.

“After all… how does one recover from a lonely heart?”

Leon squints, “…What?”

“I am separated from my light- mi luz! Forced to wander these terrifying, dark corridors alone without any source of warmth and comfort!” In the tiny screen, you can see the man waving his arms around with an exaggerated pout on his face. He looked like he was rehearsing a scene of a play or something. Luis notices your face on his end and smiles widely before releasing an over-the-top gasp and calling you by name. “¿Dónde estás, mi luz? I am suffering without you.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, doing your best to choke down the laugh that was threatening to erupt from your chest. Before reuniting with Leon S. Kennedy, your partner in the mission to retrieve Ashley Graham, you were running around the village with Luis Serra, a man you happened to come across while fighting hordes of infected villagers. Initially, you were suspicious of him, but he proved himself to be a man of good character, chivalrously watching your back and using his intimate knowledge of the area and the terrors that creep within to navigate you both through multiple dangerous encounters.

You and he became close quickly, forging a strong bond during your time together, made easy with the man’s charisma and light-hearted nature. Even in the constant face of danger, Luis would twist the dark ambiance to his playful tune, often making you the muse of his antics if not for the sole purpose to tease a smile upon your face. So what he was doing now was not at all surprising, but the confused and incredulous look upon Leon’s face was priceless.

Just as you were going to point out that it hasn’t at all been that long since you two have separated ways so that you can help Leon relocate Ashley, the blond agent beside you drops the call with a push of a button. He then throws an inquisitive glare your way.

“What?” you ask.

“Do I dare even ask what the hell that was?” Leon shoots back.

You ponder his question for a moment before answering, “Honestly, it’d save you the headache if you didn’t.”

With that, Leon drops the conversation with a sigh before taking the lead to move on. Little did you both know, it wouldn’t be the last time Luis would call.

The second time he calls, he asks how you and Leon were progressing. And just like the first time, Leon answers, reporting that you were busy cracking at a difficult door puzzle while he kept watch.

“Whoever designed this castle was a real asshole,” the agent comments.

“Agreed,” you sigh. “And whoever took the time to reset these puzzles is an even bigger asshole.”

Luis’ voice chimes in through the static. “Perhaps I can be of some assistance? I am a brilliant man, afterall. Let me have a look, por favor.”

Thinking nothing of it, Leon walks over and faces the screen of the comm to you and the door so that Luis can see what you are working on from behind before you reset the puzzle. You then explain how you got stuck and your theories on what the possible solutions could be. While doing so, Luis hums after each pause, his face showing that of absolute concentration. After you finished and a moment of considerable silence passes, you engage him.

“Well?” you ask. “Any thoughts?”

Luis lifts his hand from his stubbled chin, “Just one.” He points at you, his voice lowers to a husky growl.

“You look particularly ravishing from this angle.”

You were grateful that Leon hung up before Luis can see the blush burning hot on your cheeks. After some time, you managed to solve the puzzle and proceed with the mission although Leon was none too happy with the Spanish man for wasting both of your times.

The third time the communication device goes off, you offer to take it from Leon.

“It’s probably him again. Why don’t I handle this one?”

“No,” he denies, shaking his head. “I still don’t trust him and you don’t need the distraction.”

Instead of being offended at your partner practically casting your professionalism into doubt, you reason with him. “C’mon, Leon. It could be serious this time.”

“Highly doubt it.”

However, more time passes and the device is still beeping. The sound echoes off the walls in taunting pings to the gnawing point where it was practically imprinted into your brains. When Leon couldn’t handle it anymore, he sighs in defeat and pushes the button. Again, he doesn’t hand it to you and greets the dark-haired man himself with an irritated frown.

“This better be good.”

“Depends on your definition of “good”, mi compadre.” Luis too wore a grimace, his voice void of his usual humor. “I’ve relocated one of my hidden caches and uncovered the suppressants you will both need to slow the growth of the plaga within your bodies.”

“Well, damn. That sounds like great news to me.” A wave of relief washes over Leon’s face, probably because Luis finally shared something worthwhile. “So what’s the catch, then?”

“Catch is- there are two different kinds of doses. One dose is a simple needle injection. That will be for you, Leon. Pero, the other…” he trails off, eyes casted with a faraway look while the adam’s apple in his throat bobs. Whatever was on his mind seems difficult to swallow let alone speak aloud.

Curiosity evident in Leon’s expression, he prods him further. “What is it, Luis? Is the other dose dangerous to administer?”

“It can be. The application process has a high probability of being rather intensive. For both the receiver and the administrator.”

You join in, “What do you mean?”

It was only until the words left your mouth did you realize what you just waltzed into.

Upon hearing your words, Luis’ expression changes like day and night, the somber frown flipping into a mischievous smirk. “It is nothing you can’t handle, mi amor. I’m certain. Only that it requires you and I to exchange bodily fluids in-“

Never before have you seen Leon hang up so fast, his hand covering his beet red face. You couldn’t tell if it was out of embarrassment, disgust, or fury for falling for the Spaniard’s antics once again and concluded that it was all at once.

“Let’s… ugh… Let’s just keep going.”

You didn’t put up a fight at the order, fighting off your own set of emotions that stirred from Luis’ shameless teasing. However, not even five steps were taken and the walkie talkie beeps. Leon was livid.

“For fuck’s sake, what now?!”

“Catch you at a bad time, Leon?” A deadpan feminine voice comes through the comms and you swear Leon turned several shades paler.

Leon’s “informant” tipped you off on Ashley’s last sighting and you two wasted no time moving to catch up to her. After fighting another wave of plaga, tensions were running high. So when you two were rushing to navigate around the courtyard, the communicator goes off once more and that became the last straw for Leon. Already fuming, he waited to see the Spaniard’s face on the device before verbally popping off.

“Luis, I swear to god. If the reason you’re calling is to talk about how miserable and lonely you are or make some dumb comment on a certain someone’s assets, I am going to literally throw this walkie talkie off the ramparts,” Leon snarled, his frustration unrestrained. “So I dare you, Luis, I fucking dare you to speak. And it better be god damn important!”

For a moment there was only white noise, then a familiar thick accent finally comes through.

“… I was going to say that I can see you two across the courtyard,” the man reports candidly, “and there’s a swarm of monsters coming in at your three o’clock.”

Sure enough, a horde of giant mutated insects were zooming towards you and Leon. Amidst the countless gunshots and death cries of your enemies, you can hear your fellow agent beside you cursing colorfully to the high heavens as well as the sound of hysterical laughter further in the distance.

When it was all over, the communicator was beeping again. Leon didn’t even bother answering. Instead, he tosses the device over to you without so much as a word or making eye contact. The brief exchange almost made you laugh as you press the button and are greeted by a familiar handsome face whose grey eyes lit up instantly at the sight of you.

“I think you broke the poor man,” you say with an amused, pointed look.

The expression you see in the tiny screen was that of feigned innocent confusion. “¿Perdon? Whatever do you mean? I thought I did my due diligence in warning you two of imminent danger.”

Your ears pick up an irritated groan followed by harsh stomps moving away from your position. You can practically imagine smoke coming out of the blond’s ears as he created distance, muttering an excuse that he is going to check the perimeter. If not for your respect for the man, you would have rolled over laughing.

Shaking your head, you return your attention back to cause of your partner’s grief. “Alright. Now that’s it just the two of us. What did you really want to say to me, Luis?”

“Nada,” the Spanish man shrugs, throwing you his signature charming grin. “Just wanted to hear your voice.”

[carlsangel]

pure regret (g.i.t.w, ch.5)

carl grimes x fem!reader

warning: mentions of puking and fearing it? idk, gutting walkers, death.

masterlist here!

other chapters here! (plus a map of alexandria to make it make sense is here!)

Carl ran through Alexandria, doing what he could to protect the people around him while simultaneously scrambling to find his father. Meanwhile all that was going through his brain was you. He obviously wanted to be with his family but over the course of the week he’d spent with you he really connected with you. He genuinely cared for you. While running inside of Jessie’s house, he’d looked around the trees surrounding the walls for you. Just in case he’d see you. But he didn’t.

You were watching him the entire time, however. Every step he took, every walker he plunged his knife into. You tracked him the entire time. You lower your rifle once he disappears into the house and you take in your surroundings. Below you, there were walkers passing by to the open passage so you were trapped in your tree. You had to make do with what you had. You steadied yourself on the thick branch and silently opened your bag to find any ammo. You found a good amount of bullets and slid them into your jacket pocket, sinking the thin fabric down with the weight of the metal and gunpowder.

You sat there frustrated. You wish you weren’t so fucking stubborn. Maybe you could be down there with him and could help. No one there knows who you are, you’d just be a stranger. Probably wouldn’t be the best decision after the community was just invaded. Plus you’re safer outside the walls, but even then you want to protect him. You were filled with pure regret.

You lift your rifle back up to your eye and look through the community, seeing those you’ve observed over and over scramble to find shelter. Some made it, some didn’t. You look back to Jessie’s house, focusing in on the windows but it was a bit far to understand exactly what was going on. It wasn’t long until the windows were covered with sheets or whatever it was they were using in that house. You thought about it for a while, realize it’d probably be best to not shoot from your tree. You knew you’d have to leave the tree at some point.

You planned an escape, there weren’t many options. You could always just shoot from the tree, except with the amount of walkers surrounding the area and the incoming walkers as well, there was a good chance the tree wouldn’t withstand it. You needed something that wouldn’t break, something that could withstand the insane amount of walkers.

A house perhaps.

You wanted to rule out shooting from the community, although it’d make the most sense since it was already filled, but also you’d draw more. That’s when you heard a couple of ruckus’s from the houses. You knew they’d draw more and more regardless of the shots. It didn’t matter, you wanted to shield him. You knew he had a baby sister too, although you didn’t know her you wanted to protect her.

You hated the effect Carl had on you. Now you started to care for not just him but also his family.

─── ⋆⋅ ꒰ა 𐚁 ໒꒱ ⋅⋆ ───

Carl pushed back the white sheet that covered the window back every couple of minutes to look for you. He thought maybe you’d not actually left Alexandria and you were inside the walls looking for him. He knew you weren’t that stupid though. He just wanted to be around you, experience this with you. Everything he did that led up to this point didn’t matter. He wanted you.

“S’it bad out there?” Michonne approaches him as he gazes out the window. He turns back to glance at her then back out to the sea of the dead. He wasn’t paying attention initially. He was looking for you. “Yeah pretty bad.” He lets the sheet fall from his hands and he turns to look at Michonne. He looks distressed which is reasonable. “Hey don’t worry…we’re gonna get through this. We always do.” Michonne explains, doing her best to comfort him. He nods which led to him shaking his head. “No it’s not that. I know we’re gonna make it, it’s just…others i’m worried about.”

She had a sneaking suspicion there was some deeper reasoning. He’d been acting strange ever since he met you and everyone could notice except him. He’d been disappearing for hours, he recently brought home a broken rifle he was oddly obsessed with…Michonne had an inkling he’d found the ghost in the woods. That’s what the other kids told her he’d been out looking for. “You found her didn’t you?” She inquires amused. He furrows his eyebrows. “Found who?” Like Michonne was stupid.

“You know who I mean. The girl who lingers in the trees.” Carl catches himself almost smiling, but he knows it’s not the time. “Yeah. I found her.” He looks back out to the trees and Michonne gives him his space.

Meanwhile the area beneath your tree was clear, most of the walkers had gotten into Alexandria and the surrounding woods were empty (minus a few stragglers.) You slowly lower yourself to the woods floor. Over the amount of time you’ve been on your own, you know how to be quiet when walking through the forest. So, you use that to your advantage. You manage to sneak up on a lone walker.

You plunge your knife through its head and catch its body, laying it out on the floor. You look down at it and contemplate your life for a couple seconds, mentally preparing yourself for what comes ahead. You take in a deep breath and begin to slice open its torso, slicing it open to pull out its insides. The smell of rotted meat fills your nose and you struggle to keep it together. You spread its guts all over your jacket and jeans. You wiped your hands off and found a small bit of mud to spread on your face, anything to make you smell and look dead. You were praying to God that when this was all over you’d be able to shower at Alexandria, or at least wash your clothes.

“Oh fuck.” You mutter, feeling what you fear most. You feel like you’re going to puke. Growing up it was your worst nightmare, it always made you feel like shit. You look up to the orange sky as the sun was setting and you shut your eyes, breathing in deeply. You needed to do this, you needed to protect him. It’s not like you believed he couldn’t do it on his own, but you knew that if he had someone on the outside, he’d have better odds at escaping.

You slowly make your way to a different crate that was placed against Alexandria’s east wall and climb up, just to hear some commotion that somehow sounded over the entire sea of walkers. It comes from the direction of Carl’s house, which at this point is straight ahead. You aren’t sure what to do in this moment, your head is scrambled with what could be happening to him as you watch the walkers make their way over. You push through, however, and the only thing motivating you is that Carl could still be alive. However likely that is.

You jump down to the floor, catching the attention of some walkers, but you use the skills you built to find a way to climb up the nearest house onto its steep roof. This house is at the edge of Alexandria, you can see almost everything, except the large apartment building almost blocked the infirmary. What really matters, is that you can see Carl’s house. However, your shoes are so worn down you were sliding while climbing. You straddle the roof almost and lift the rifle back up to your eye to spot people standing at the porch of his house. They apparently had the same tactic that you learnt early on in the apocalypse.

You watch as they slowly make their way through.

Carl, however is incredibly annoyed. If it wasn’t for Ron, no one would be in this situation in the first place. But he takes this opportunity to look for you some more. He looks around while clutching Judith tightly underneath. He gives up when the group approaches to a stop. You’re confused as to why they might do that but you see Carl with a baby in his hands which makes you realize that’s his little sister. He hands her to a priest, the one you remember seeing from the gates but he wanders off. They all begin to walk again and the sun is setting which makes everything so much more difficult to see.

Not to mention they begin to walk past towards the gates, but you start to lose sight of them. Without getting killed, you slide onto the balcony, off the house and to a house further in the neighborhood. Just three houses over which was shorter and easier to climb onto. You still needed the high ground, and you didn’t want to draw attention by joining his group. You didn’t want to be seen, either.

─── ⋆⋅ ꒰ა 𐚁 ໒꒱ ⋅⋆ ───

You watched carefully as the group made its way out. You followed the line with your rifle and you could help but cringe whenever the little kid would call out for his mom. You couldn’t focus on that though, you train your scope back into Carl and continue to watch. That was until they came to a full stop.

Your eyebrows furrow as you watch Carl tug a bit and move to the small child who seems to be panicking. That kid was always so nosy. It wasn’t long before his screams overpowered those of the dead. You realized you could be doing something here, you could be helping but you didn’t want to kill anyone. Not a human. You wanted to save every human life you could, especially after your family passed. You notice the mother of the kid sobbing profusely, but you can see Carl tugging his wrist away.

There’s nothing you can do, but they’re being surrounded.

Carl scrambles to come up with any solution, so he calls out for his dad who isn’t all there. He’s distressed as he watches the walkers pile over the child and the woman. Carl calls out a couple times and he pulls out his axe to sever the woman’s arm. Carl topples over, you see Ron, the other boy grab something from the floor and get up quickly.

It all happens so fast, but for the both of you, only one moment slows down time.

The moon glares against your scope, it’s trained on him so he sees a gentle beam of light cross his eyes. His eyebrows furrow as he spots you on a roof in the distance. He can almost smile as relief fills his body. He hears his dad behind him, bringing him back down to the situation in front of him.

He looks down to see Ron, he’s holding a gun in his direction.

That’s the last thing he sees before the gun goes off.

a/n: ALMOST OVERRRRR i hope this was banger and it made sense, look to the link of the map if it doesn’t!!! if u have questions let me know i’m terrible at directions SHANBDBDND

tag list: @zomb-1-egutzz @lunarnightt @ilikestrawberriesandwomen @hiro--aoki @h00d-tr4sh @callsignwidow @lilyglasergrimes @smollbean42905 @deadgirlwalkingx @txrasbae @lalaloopsie12309 @crusadecherryblossom @violetashfall @zombiigrll @amanita-raine @prettylittlevampire12 @shadowybasementmiracle @junkyard-juno27 @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n @sophiaatwdluver @baileebear @tabathastan @sstar-ggirl

[lunarfleur]

Earth 42! Miles Morales Datings Hcs

Tagging: @juneberrie @sluggmuffin

Warnings:Mentions of his job as the prowler

A/N: I’m literally in love with him help

This is x gender neutral reader!

This boy is not your sugar daddy. Be fr.

Does he have extra cash? Yeah.

But he’s not your sugar daddy. That is a child.

He’s honestly not that different from Earth 1610! Miles, he’s just been through a lot more shit

He’s still a dork, deep down.

But let’s get the inevitabilities out of the way

Spanish nicknames, for sure. I don’t speak Spanish, but it’d just be the ones everyone in the community thinks he would use 😭

As well as baby and babe.

This boy is a hugger in every universe

He would never openly say, “I need a hug.” But, he’d pull you in or bury his face in your neck

It gets the point across

I think for both versions of Miles, he keeps his room clean for you

His mom always gets on him for it, so it’s just habit to have his room clean

Picking up any and all dirty clothes, vacuuming, dusting, that kind of thing.

It’s typically clean anyways, but he makes sure it’s as clean as possible for you

Movie nights whenever he doesn’t get called into work. You’re tucked against him. One arm is around your shoulder, the other hand is rested comfortably on your thigh.

This boy loves loves loves forehead kisses, both giving and receiving

A lot of times he gives them as apologies

He couldn’t make a date, so he’s kissing your forehead after kissing your lips and apologizing so so genuinely

But you give him one? He’s dying.

You’re in his lap, and you just *mwah?*

He’s a goner

Let’s be honest, he’s young and in love. You make him excited.

Make out sessions are both common and enjoyable

He knows not to take too far, of course, but he can’t help but love on you

But make outs are never for public

He’s not ashamed of PDA, but he doesn’t think anyone else should see something so intimate.

But he’ll kiss you, hold your hand, leave his arm around your shoulders, and basically all the other toned down displays of affection

The only people that are afraid of him are the ones who have caused problems with him

He’s lived in New York all his life. A lot of kids know him. A lot of kids know that he just changed after he lost his dad

The ignorant ones start fights with him. The ignorant ones lose fights with him.

Because this boy can scrap

He’s not really some big, bad bully who runs his school or whatever

He sticks to being a loner, with the exception of you.

He still maintains good grades and behavior and all that

He doesn’t really get in trouble for fighting because he’s never the one who starts it

It’s self defense, you know?

There’s only 3 people in his life that he genuinely cares about: You, his mom, and his uncle.

Of course, he wants you to meet them

So he brings you home one day

And, luckily for you, they’re both easy to get along with

But he’s okay with not meeting your family

If you don’t want him to, he doesn’t have to

Fights with him go one of two ways, depending on the severity of the situation.

A:It’s a very serious, tense discussion. He doesn’t put any distance between you two, maybe holding your hand or keeping his knee touching yours. He speaks carefully and he listens to you.

This Miles doesn’t yell. Not at you, not at his mom, basically never.

B: You two give each other space. He makes sure you’re home safely, leaving you with a kiss on the forehead, before giving both of you time to calm down and think everything over.

And then once you two are ready, you talk things over and he apologizes. This leads to soft make outs and/or cuddles.

But we all know he’s The Prowler

He’s not a villain, necessarily. He doesn’t kill people for the fun of it. He kills people who deserve it. Criminals, people who have genuinely hurt others.

He didn’t wait too long to tell you, actually.

It was only a month or two.

He liked you, genuinely, and it shocked him to his core. He knew his job would put distance between you two. He didn’t want that. Miles wanted things with you to go right.

He told you cautiously, and made sure to explain what he did and why.

It made sense, it really did. And he made sure to keep you away from it all.

It was hard to handle at first, but eventually you came to terms with it.

He was honestly terrified that you’d be scared of him. He’s still a kid, remember.

Sometimes, he gets called in and can’t make a date.

But Miles hates it and makes damn good sure he makes it up to you

He keeps tabs of everything he’s missed

He’s a sweetheart, honestly.

He gives you things, like gifts and his clothes and full access to his room

And he’s always making sure you’re in the best of moods

You’re crying? He’s doing everything he can to fix it.

Miles isn’t a bad boyfriend, it just takes some time to understand him.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AMITA for lying to everyone I know about my identity’s as a queer/neurodivergent person?

I (18M) am a bisexual, transgender man who is also autistic, ADHD, and OCD. When people hear this about me, even if they know me, I feel like they build up this image of me as an awkward, “cringy” 11 year old who’s obsessed with “cringy” fandoms. And while i have a qualm with this because I know they are looking down on people who are just less masked/higher support needs, I also dislike that they do this because it’s just not who I am. Without the labels, I mostly seem like just a normal dude, if not a bit nerdy.

I also used to be extremely bullied as a kid (7-12) to the point of a suicide attempt, mostly due to homophobic, transphobic, or ablest remarks about me. Since then I’ve completely changed community’s and do not talk to anyone i knew before high school.

When authority figures (Teachers, Show Directors, Investors of the teen programs I lead) apply ablest/transphobic stereotypes or prejudices to me, they also tend to be less,,, normal? around me. Less kind compared to other kids, call me an “inspiration”, or they’ll coddle me when I’m incredibly capable. I do a lot for someone my age- and I know the connections I make now at conferences and whatnot will help me in the long run. My dad’s family is poor, and my immediate family is more comfortable but not that much. I know I’m smart, and I can weaponize that to get a better life for my family by getting good scholarships and jobs in good fields. I can’t just let people who could be very important to my goals look down on me. So i just.. don’t tell them anything about me. They might assume Im odd or “not normal”, and for the most part I let them assume whatever, but if i’m ever asked directly about anything I deny it. Especially in relation to me being transgender; I have the very privileged ability to pass without any medical intervention, and I use that to pretend to be cisgender. Living in the deep south of USAmerica, most of who I am could make my social life very uncomfortable to downright miserable.

Here’s where the problem starts happening. when my social and (what i consider to be a) “professional” life occasionally touch, I wouldn’t be able to be out everywhere socially without someone I don’t want knowing finding out. So i don’t tell any of my classmates/friends/peers about any of my identities either. I hang out with queer and straight people, never be actively homophobic/ablest, and will be very vague about the two questions i’ve ever received about any of that stuff. It’s very, very exhausting to pretend all the time, every day, especially pretending that I’m cisgender because it’s a tricky game, but I can’t really back down and I’m afraid that I might get bullied again if I was ever open about it with classmates.

A few months ago, I was dating this guy, who i’ll call Kai (17M) Kai is also a transgender man, but does not pass at all and is comfortable with it. He’ll get shit sometimes, but also has essentially no straight friends. I told him I was queer when we became good friends, and then told him I was trans after we started dating. I also told him why I lie about being cishet or neurotypical, and while he didn’t seem happy he didn’t push it at first. I told him that I understood if he didn’t want to be in a secret relationship, but because of where we live and what I want to do I wasn’t comfortable with being out again. He said he still wanted to date me, and claimed he would support me, and we had a pretty good relationship overall.

A month after that, he started bringing it up again. He told me that I was more than my identity, and if people didn’t see me for who I am instead of stereotypes, it isn’t worth talking to them at all. And while I agree with the sentiment, it’d never be possible to just not hear someone if they were harassing me, and while I truely dislike a lot of the authority figures that I engage with, they are in the professional fields I’m interested in, and I’m incredibly lucky for getting where I am so early. Kai also said that since I am well known in our very small school (only 300 kids), being out could be a positive influence on what people think about autistic people or trans people. In a particularly heated fight, he even said I was doing a disservice or betrayal to my community by not representing or being proud of being apart of them publicly.

We broke up pretty soon after, but I think about what he said a lot. I know that I wouldn’t be the only out person at my school, and that my school is actually a lot better compared to most local schools, which are a lot larger and… dramatic, but I just don’t think I could be out without going back to how I used to be mentally. And Kai was right about how I could be a good influence on some of the meaner classmates- I do think some of my peers who I ingenuinely connect with might reconsider their prejudices if they knew I was transgender.

I’m intentionally choosing not to take the opportunity to do better. It wouldn’t ruin ALL my relationships with the authority figures I consider to be important holding, since it would just be my school, It might dampen one or two of them. Plus, I’m lying to pretty much everyone who knows me. They build relationships with a false idea of me, and I feel like an asshole sometimes because I’m not honest.

TLDR: I’m a transgender, autistic guy in a very bigoted community. Everybody thinks i’m cishet and neurotypical. AMITA for not being proud of who I am because of potential social losses, and AMITA for lying to people and giving friends/peers false ideas about who I am even if they would not be friends with me if they knew?

What are these acronyms?

[whumpy-wyrms]

The Last Lab Rat #21: Halloween

previous > masterlist > next

content: lab whump, captivity, ghosts, parent and animal death mention, comfort, ghost carewhumpee, winged test subject whumpee, scientist carewhumper

HAPPY (LATE) HALLOWEEN to Dew and Anton (and Max)!! watch them as they celebrate the spookiest holiday as a way to cope with their own horrors that are slowly consuming them (also ignore the fact i’m posting this one day after halloween… every day is halloween if you’re a creature of the night like me for realsies)

— 

For a moment Dew thought that it was all one bad dream, but like everything else that had happened to him, he knew it’d never be that easy. This wasn’t a dream, he wasn’t hallucinating, and this wasn’t another experiment— if so, Anton would have burst into the room giddy with excitement about the idea of ghosts existing a long time ago— so it had to be real; that was the only explanation. Dew could see ghosts. Dew could communicate with the dead.

He supposed it was a good idea to keep this a secret from Anton. From what all of this implied, Anton didn’t deserve to know that Max was still here, lest he torment them further than what he did back when they were his lab rat. They deserved a peaceful afterlife, and Dew would… try as best he could to give them that. He didn’t need Anton ruining yet another person’s life— or lack thereof.

Max seemed happy with that decision as well. Whenever Dew brought Anton up, they shuffled awkwardly and mumbled short and vague responses. It was obvious they preferred not to talk about him. The idea of confronting him after all this time seemed like it filled them with absolute dread. Dew didn’t need to know all the specific details to understand why.

Eventually, the two of them realized they had stayed up all night talking, and Dew had gotten absolutely zero sleep. He was sitting on his bed talking to Max when the lights flicked on, and Anton came strolling through the lab. Dew’s heart jumped in his chest, and he frantically pulled the blankets over them both.

He could see Max. He could talk to a ghost, a ghost! How the hell was he supposed to keep this a secret from Anton? His drowsy head swarmed with adrenaline and worry, he could barely think straight after everything that was going on, it’d surely cause suspicion.

…Shit.

Dew hopped out of bed and picked up the knife off the floor.

“Max,” Dew whispered frantically. “W- what do I do with the knife— where do I put it?—”

“Put it back in your pillow case,” Max said. “Hurry. Anton’s coming.”

Dew stuffed the knife in there and ran to the bathroom, usering Max alone with him. He slammed the door shut and watched Max float seamlessly through the walls and into the bathroom.

“Oh my god… oh my god!” Dew exclaimed, running his hands through his disheveled hair. “Anton’s coming. Anton’s gonna- gonna find out about you and—”

“No, He won’t,” Max reassured him. “He hasn’t seen me for the past five years I’ve been here… no matter how much I’ve tried. He won’t suddenly be able to see me now… It’s okay, I promise.”

“Okay… okay.”

“Please calm down, Dew. You’ll only arouse suspicion…”

“You’re right- you’re right. Oh my god. What do I do? Do I tell Anton I can see you? What if he- what if he messes with my eyes more or kills me again or— or hurts you—”

“You don’t gotta tell him,” Max quickly reassured. “It’s- it’s probably best if you don’t, actually. It’s okay. Please… take a deep breath. Everything’ll be alright.”

“O-okay… I won’t tell him. Oh god. I can see dead people. Are you sure you’re real?”

“I think so.”

“Okay. Okay I should— I need to use the toilet. Do you mind…”

Max quietly nodded and floated out of the room, and Dew was left alone. A few moments later, he heard Anton enter his room from the other side of the door. Silence. He was just… waiting. Like usual. Of course. Everything was normal for him out there. For all the scientist knew, today was just another day.

When Dew was done, he walked back into his room, all three of his eyes moving to see Anton sitting on the side of his bed. They locked eyes. Dew felt like a deer in the headlights.

“Good morning, Dew,” the scientist said. “How’re you feeling?”

“Um,” Dew mumbled, quickly glancing up to the dark corner of the ceiling. Max was staring back, eye wide and still. Dew timidly shifted his gaze back to the scientist. “Good.”

“That’s good.” Anton breathed. He didn’t seem to notice Dew’s glance. He was staring at him like he was the only thing in the world that mattered.

Dew fidgeted with his shirt and tried to ignore the elephant in his room. With everything that happened, he’d almost forgotten about the scientist and his experiments. Being in his presence after last night made him filled with absolute dread. Memories flashed through his mind of being forced into that tank— the darkness, being unable to see, to move, to feel. He had died. Anton had killed him.

He was suddenly hyper aware of everything that was going on, the position he was in, where he was, the fact he didn’t know what was going to happen next. Tears welled up in his eyes far too suddenly, and he hadn’t realized that he’d pressed his back so far against the wall opposite the scientist that his wings were beginning to ache.

“I’m sorry, Dew,” Anton said quickly, breaking the silence and letting out a shaky breath. “About yesterday. I never- I never intended for that experiment to go the way it did. If you don’t mind, I wanna do a couple of tests quickly, just to see how you’re holding up. Then we can eat breakfast out in the kitchen together, okay?”

Dew wiped his eyes and nose with his sleeve and sniffled. His head jerked into a nod. “Oh, o-okay.” His tense shoulders started to relax, and he swallowed his nerves and followed Anton out of the door. He hadn’t been told to put his hospital gown on; that was a good thing. It meant no experiments. He closed his eyes as he walked and tried to focus on calming his breathing. Anton wouldn’t hurt him right now. No experiments. Everything would be okay.

As he walked, he realized the presence of the ghost grew farther away. Dew’s eyes flickered to the window and saw Max watching him silently from his room. They were staying put… Maybe that was for the best. It was already hard for Dew to focus with both the ghost and the scientist in the same room as him.

“You’ve been so good, Dew,” Anton said as they walked. Dew turned his head to look up at him. “So good. I don’t say that enough.”

“Oh, th-thanks…”

Now in the lab again, Dew was glad to note that the horrible giant tank and any evidence left from that experiment was gone. The fact that he may never go inside there again provided a small comfort as he hopped up on the metal table. The scientist prepped a small needle, and Dew had done this so much that he knew what to expect by now. He moved his arm from his sleeve and rested his elbow on the table, allowing Anton room to slide the needle in and start drawing blood.

Dew would usually look away, terrified with tears in his eyes as he clenched them shut, but this time he looked down in a morbid curiosity. But he felt nothing as his eyes bored into it, watching his dark red blood be taken from his body and filled in a couple of small vials.

He blinked, and it was over with. Anton wrapped his arm in a bit of cotton gauze and gave him a few light pats to his head. Dew put his arm back in his sleeve and stayed as still as he could as Anton continued to check his vitals. Cold stethoscope to his skin, blood pressure cuff squeezing his arm, bright lights in his eyes. His mind swarmed with so many questions and worries about the day prior that he could barely focus on what the scientist was even doing to him.

After he was done, Anton put a hand on Dew’s shoulder. Dew flinched and looked up at him. “That’s it, I’m done. I’m proud of you. As a reward for your good behavior, you deserve another break for a little while, don’t you think?”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Anton ruffled his hair. “We both do… And I need time to plan for what’s next.”

Dew let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He closed his eyes and slinked off of the table and onto the floor.

Anton lightly scrunched his brows. “You look tired. Did you get any sleep last night?”

“...No. I… I couldn’t sleep,” Dew mumbled. There was no use lying about it. It was obvious.

“Oh.” Anton patted his hair softly. He frowned, looking almost guilty. Dew hugged his knees to his chest. “I’m sorry about that… Good thing we get to rest today. Recover from… what happened.”

“…Anyways, everything’s looking good. You’re all healthy.” He gave Dew a gentle smile. “We have nothing to worry about.”

“That’s good,” Dew mumbled.

“…But Dew,” Anton said, smiling wide. It seemed like his usual, giddy self was already back. That had to be a new record. “There’s another reason we get a break today. Do you know what day it is?”

“No.”

“It’s…” Anton took two pens and drum rolled them on the table. “…Halloween!” He quickly put some giant fake mouse ears on his head. “I would have told you sooner, but uh, I kinda lost track of time. You get it.”

“It’s… Halloween already?” It felt like only yesterday it was his birthday at the beginning of October. It felt like only yesterday he escaped and murdered and got recaptured and gave up. It was only yesterday he died. Time continued to sneak by. It always did, and it always would.

“Awful timing, I know.” Anton scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “But… Let’s try not to let anything else ruin the spooky spirit for us today, alright? It’s a new day, everyone’s okay, let’s just… focus on having fun.”

So it really did seem like Anton wanted to move on from last night completely and sweep all the horrors that Dew faced under the rug. Dew didn’t know if he could just move on from what happened so easily. The void had swallowed him up, it was so dark, so…

“Dew?” Anton asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“S-sorry.” Maybe it was a good thing he had a distraction, actually. He’d focus on the spooky horrors today instead of his own. Surely pushing all his worries to the back of his mind wouldn’t have any repercussions later.

“Like I said, I didn’t really get to plan much for today… time got the best of me. But I have a few fun options.” Anton changed the lighting in the lab to a dim orange hue, really setting the mood for Halloween. Dew didn’t even know Anton could change the colors of the lights in this place.

“If you want, we could decorate or carve some pumpkins for fun.” Anton laughed softly. “I don’t think it’ll surprise you to know we don’t get any trick-or-treaters here. And if we did, well, the more test subjects, the merrier! Haha.”

Dew didn’t laugh.

“But that’s okay. It means we get the candy all to ourselves! Here, you deserve the treat.” Anton handed him an orange jack-o-lantern bucket filled to the brim with candy.

“…Th-thanks.”

“Don’t eat it all at once. Oh! Right, you’re probably hungry. Come on, let's go get some breakfast.” Anton held his hand out towards Dew. He sighed and grabbed it, allowing Anton to pull him to his feet. He followed him to the kitchen. “Hmm, what do you want for breakfast, Dew? I also haven't eaten yet this morning. I just, uh, woke up and came straight here.” Anton looked down at his lime green socks and chuckled lightly. “I didn’t even remember to put my shoes on.”

“Hmm.” Dew didn’t really know. It had been months since someone asked what he wanted for breakfast. “I mean… I really like pancakes. Especially if-if they have chocolate chips in them.”

Anton hummed. “Oh, that sounds good! Yeah, I’ll make ‘em, you just sit tight.” Anton pulled a chair out for Dew and he sat down at the table.

It was so weird seeing the scientist in such a cheery mood after last night, after that experiment went wrong, after he allegedly killed him. Maybe it was just his way of coping, his way of trying to cheer Dew up. He knew how… important he was to the man. But still, if Anton didn’t want him to get hurt, he shouldn’t have fucking experimented on him.

Dew closed his eyes while he waited, bringing his knees to his chest and wrapping his wings around himself on the chair. He was so exhausted. Eventually, Anton finished baking the pancakes and set a plate down in front of him. There were two medium pancakes and a bigger curved one, arranged in the shape of a smiley face.

They ate their breakfast in silence. Well… at first. “This is so good, Dew!” Anton exclaimed. “Pancakes was a good idea!”

The pancakes themself weren’t… the best, but they were better than nothing. Dew and his friends used to make much better pancakes together back at home. He wondered if they still did that. With the clone.

After they were done eating breakfast, Anton took their plates and set them in the sink. “Well, we’re already in the kitchen, do you wanna carve some pumpkins?” he asked.

“…Sure.”

“Alright.” Anton bent down and hefted two pumpkins up on the table. One was rather small, and the other was a bit bigger. “Choose your pick. I don’t mind.” It was obvious Anton was hoping he’d get to carve the bigger one, so Dew took the small one. “Good choice!”

Anton handed Dew a pencil and some rubber gloves, then he handed him a knife.

…A knife.

Dew stared at it.

Anton only just seemed to notice what he handed him so casually a second ago. “Oh, just be careful with that, Dew.” Anton frowned. “I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

“…I’ll be careful,” Dew said. It was hard to believe Anton was just trusting him with a knife like this, unrestrained, and so close to him too, especially after…

He shook those thoughts away. He was glad he was being trusted with this after everything that had happened. He could use all the trust he could get here, and he wouldn’t break it. …At least, not now.

Oh, right. 

He didn’t know what to do. All these thoughts about trust and he just remembered that he’d been lying to the scientist for weeks about his eyes. He should tell him, he should. He couldn’t break his trust all over again and risk getting hurt. It wasn’t worth it.

After snapping his own gloves on, Anton started digging in. “You can turn your music on too, if you’d like. I don’t listen to music much. but if you like it so much, it might be nice…”

Dew pressed play on his MP3 player that has been sitting in his pocket, letting it play out loud. Whatever Dew decided to do about all the secrets he’d been keeping, it could surely wait a little longer. It was Halloween. He decided to focus on the pumpkin carving and the music playing, letting it drown out his thoughts.

Dew put his gloves on and started carving. It was easy at first, all he had to do was cut the stem out. But… he didn’t exactly know what he wanted to carve. He used to carve pumpkins all the time during spooky season with his friends, but now… he sighed. He didn’t feel like designing something new and intricate. A generic scary jack o'lantern face would have to.

“So, Dew, do you like Halloween?” Anton asked.

“Um�� yeah,” Dew mumbled. “Yeah. It’s fun.”

Anton smiled. “What do you like about it?”

Dew shrugged. “I used to go trick-or-treating a lot with my friends. We’d always dress up in costumes. One time Sawyer and I went as two of our favorite video game characters. It was… really fun.” Dew softly stabbed the side of the pumpkin and took his hand away, putting it in his lap and letting the knife sit sticking out of the pumpkin. “I miss it. Obviously.” He wasn’t going to ask if Anton could take him trick-or-treating. It’d be an obvious no. He didn’t want to get his hopes up just to be let down.

“What about you?” Dew asked, looking up. “Do you like Halloween?”

“Oh yeah, I love Halloween.” Anton smiled fondly. “It’s one of the only holidays Pierce let me celebrate. I used to dress up sometimes. I never went, uh, trick-or-treating though.” Anton frowned. “It sounds fun. I wish… I wish I did. Pierce and I never really left the forest much…”

Dew blinked.

“And uh, if I would’ve remembered it was Halloween sooner, I definitely would’ve prepared costumes. But hey, there’s always next year!”

…Yeah. Next year.

And the year after that.

And the years after that.

Hey, maybe by then, Anton would trust Dew enough to take him trick-or-treating again. Then they’d both be happy. Maybe he’d even see his friends walking on the street by them with his clone. He wondered what he’d be dressed up as. He plucked the knife out of the pumpkin and continued carving into it.

Orange, wet, slimy pumpkin guts covered his gloved hands as he gutted his pumpkin. His knife shone bright in the orange light, illuminating the stabs into its face as he carved it out. He felt like he was gonna be sick.

“Hey, Dew?” Anton said out of nowhere. Dew looked up from his pumpkin. “I just wanted to say… I’m… I’m so glad you’re here,” he murmured softly. “I love spending time with you.”

Around an hour later, the two of them finished up their pumpkins. Anton put little candles inside and lit them, then dimmed the lights all the way. The two jack o'lanterns lit up, warm orange light filling the darkness. Anton had carved a little… rat? Mouse? Whatever it was, it was kinda cute. Dew just carved a scary face. It’s jagged, zig zag mouth curving up into a smile, contrasting Dew’s obvious tired, sad, and perpetually fearful frown.

Despite that, Anton still seemed proud of him. He put a hand on his shoulder and grinned. “Woah! These look amazing!” Anton said. “Good job, Dew. You did great.”

Dew smiled lightly at the praise. “Th-thanks. Now what?” he asked.

“I’ll clean this mess up and then… we could… watch a movie? We can watch something scary on the big computer monitor screens I have in here, if you want.”

“Okay. I’m gonna go get my sketchbook.”

Dew walked to his room, noticing Max was still floating by the window. He opened the door and walked in, looking out to make sure Anton wasn’t watching him. He seemed busy enough getting rid of the pumpkin guts.

“Hi,” Dew whispered.

“Hey,” Max said. “…What were you two doing over there?”

“What, carving pumpkins? You… you don’t know what that is?”

“Maybe I did, but I don’t remember anymore.”

“Oh… Well, it’s for Halloween. Something you do during Halloween time, you know, because it’s spooky.”

“…Halloween?”

“…Oh boy.”

As Dew talked about Halloween, recognition slowly started to spread across Max’s face. They felt it too. That familiarity. That… intense feeling they couldn’t seem to describe. Like… like when they first heard music from Dew’s machine. Halloween must have been important to them in the past… far into the past. Maybe even before the lab.

“Huh,” Dew said. “Do you know… If there’s any ways to like, jog your memories? Make them come back?”

Max shrugged. “I’m not sure. Sometimes if I focus really hard, I can remember a little. But… before— before here— it’s… nothing. Maybe a small feeling in the back of my mind, but that’s it.”

“…Oh.”

“Don’t feel bad, Dew.” Max assured. “I’m used to it by now. It’s okay.”

But it wasn’t, and Dew knew that. None of this was okay. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Can you come with me? I’m scared to be alone. And I don’t want you to feel left out.”

Max’s eye lit up. “Okay. …Anton still doesn’t know I’m here, right?”

“Right.”

“Okay… good.”

Dew grabbed his sketchbook— and his ghost nightlight, it was in theme after all— and went back into the lab with Max following behind him. Anton had cleaned up the mess and was snacking on some candy when Dew approached him. He stood there silently, not really used to being the one to initiate their interactions. He was so used to being told what to do that he froze up the second Anton let him loose.

“Oh, hey,” the scientist said. “The remains of the insides of the pumpkins have been disposed of. Spooky movie time! I can make some popcorn if you want.”

Dew nodded.

“Alright! Let’s go make popcorn.” Anton started walking towards the exit of the lab, then hesitated. He turned to Dew. “…You can come with, if you want.”

Dew was surprised, but followed him anyway. Anton was taking him upstairs. He hadn’t gone up there since… He shuddered. He couldn’t mess this up. If he even just made the wrong move, or looked too longingly at the windows or something, he could ruin everything again. He gestured for Max to come with him. They’d help stop him from making stupid decisions.

But when he walked out the exit and they floated next to him and raised their hand to touch his, it stopped in mid air. Rigid. Unmoving. They tried moving their body forward, but it was like an invisible force was keeping them in the confines of the lab. Dew could barely process what that meant before Anton called for him.

“Dew? Come on.”

He forced himself to look away from Max and silently began walking up the stairs after Anton. His heart pounded in his chest when he realized what that meant. Max couldn’t leave the lab. He… guessed it made sense. After all, if he were a ghost in this place, the first thing he’d do if he got the chance was to leave and never look back. But that wasn’t an option for Max, was it?

Once they got to the top of the stairs, Anton opened the door and the two of them walked into the cabin. A chill went down Dew’s spine as he caught sight of the windows. Outside Dew saw a flurry of snow falling from the sky. White snowflakes danced in the air of the forest, the trees had lost most of their leaves at this point. It was already almost winter.

Anton glanced at Dew and then out the window. “Oh yeah, it started snowing recently. Come on, let’s pop some popcorn.”

Anton pulled Dew along to the kitchen and began rummaging around in the pantry. Sounds of popcorn popping in the microwave filled his ears, and he could already smell it.

“Okay Dewey,” Anton said, pouring the popcorn in a big bowl and pouring butter over the top. “It’s all done. Let’s go.”

They walked back to the lab and got the movie ready. Anton moved the couch from the kitchen to the middle of the room in front of his giant computer screens, and they sat down, cozied in their warm blankets. The movie Anton chose was Frankenstein.

They stayed silent for most of the movie. Max had come to sit next to Dew to watch it too, but quickly went flying back to hide in his room after it became too distressing for them. Dew was honestly dozing off for some of it, having got little to no sleep last night, but it was still entertaining. Better than being experimented on for real, at least. Anton just seemed happy to be spending time with him. After the movie, they ate lunch.

“What to do…” Anton said, pacing around in circles. “Oh, let’s tell some ghost stories!”

“O-oh, okay—” Dew’s words were cut off when a blanket was thrown in his face and he was pulled by his ankle off of the couch. “Hey!” He yelled, genuinely frightened. He pushed the blanket off of him and shot Anton a look. “What the f—”

“Relax, Dew.” Anton laughed. “I’m just making a blanket fort. We need one if we’re gonna tell spooky stories. This is gonna be fun.”

“Okay, fine.” Dew sighed. Anton started draping the blankets over the couch and connecting them to the chairs and shelves around them. Eventually, there was a small but decently cozy blanket fort that Dew and Anton were huddled under. Dew looked to his right to see Max phasing through the blankets and sitting down next to him.

“You start,” Anton said, smiling eagerly.

“Oh, um…” Dew glanced at Max. He really didn’t have any actual ghost stories to tell, besides the one from last night, but that one was obviously off the table. He didn’t really feel like making up something on the spot either. He sighed. Best to just get this over with. He was so tired.

“Well… me and my friends always liked to play with ouija boards,” Dew said. “We’d go out into the woods at night and sit in the grass with the board in the middle of us. We did it a couple of times and mostly goofed around, but it was kinda scary. And then…” Dew frowned. “Then my parents died, and… and we tried to use the board to talk to them. I dunno if it ever actually worked, or if my friends were just tryna make me feel better…”

Dew looked back up at Anton. “That’s my ghost story.”

Anton blinked. There was an awkward silence before he cleared his throat and chuckled awkwardly. “That wasn’t a very scary story, Dew. …But I’m… sorry for your loss. That must’ve been hard.”

“Yeah,” Dew mumbled. “Your turn.”

“Okay.” Anton grabbed Dew’s ghost light and held it under his chin all spookily. He began telling a cliche— but somewhat scary coming from Anton— ghost story. Being in the dark and hearing a story like that honestly sent chills down Dew’s spine, but he didn’t know if it was because he was scared or if it was the ghost that was sitting next to him. …Besides, he was always scared.

After the story, Dew decided to ask something he’d only really get the chance to ask today. “Hey, so… do you…” Dew glanced at Max again, who was curled up into a ball next to him. “Do you actually believe in ghosts?”

Anton paused for a moment, seemingly thinking deeply about it as if the answer wasn’t glaringly obvious— him being a scientist and all. He spoke slowly, as if choosing his words carefully. “Hm. I’m not sure. If they do, that seems like an awfully painful existence to have. I wouldn’t want anyone to exist like that.” Anton cleared his throat. “But scientifically speaking: no, they don’t exist. So there’s no reason to think about them. It’ll just… bring you down. People die, y’know, what happens after is… irrelevant.”

Dew looked to his right again to see that Max was gone. Probably huddled up in his room.

Anton tilted his head, looking at him with a sad expression. “Hey Dew, are you okay? You’ve been on edge all day.”

“Oh, um…” Dew began nervously fidgeting with his Halloween candy. “I’m just- I’m scared of what’s gonna happen next.”

“Next?”

“L-like, the experiments. What are you gonna do to me next?” It was the question that had been ringing in his head all day, and he finally had the courage to ask it.

“Oh.” Anton frowned, suddenly looking much more serious, his expression almost resembling the one of horror from last night. He swallowed, guilt finding its way across his features. “Right. Of course you’d be wondering this. I should have explained more earlier.”

He sighed. “Well, we’re moving on from the eye experiments. That last experiment was a close call— too close for comfort, and we were getting nowhere anyway. I gave you a third eye and that was a success, but the rest… I wasn’t prepared. I went in too strong without thinking. We will come back to this eventually— maybe— probably not. There’s still so much I want to test, but for now we need to move on while I plan better ways— safer ways— to get done what I want.”

Dew wondered what really was it that Anton wanted to achieve. All of his questions led him nowhere, almost as if the scientist didn’t want to admit what he was searching for. But it was obvious in the way Anton was slouched down and wasn’t making the constant eye contact and talking about experiments without that excited glint in his eyes that he saw this as a failure. A failed experiment that gave Dew more powers than he could imagine. If only Anton knew.

Still, Dew was relieved that Anton seemingly wanted to move on from that particular experiment. It failed, and that was that, no second attempts, no re-do’s. Thank goodness for that. That was all Dew really cared about at this point. Surviving.

He didn’t have much to say, and it was obvious the scientist didn’t want to talk about this either, so he said nothing besides nodding in understanding.

Anton clicked his pen repeatedly, obviously wanting to change the subject. “Do you wanna watch another scary movie?”

“Sure.”

“Great.”

The blanket fort was swiftly torn down, the popcorn bucket was refilled and the two of them were once again sitting on the couch watching a spooky movie. Re-animator, this time. Anton seemed enraptured, Dew found it kind of interesting, and Max was nowhere to be seen.

Dew knew it couldn’t have been very late, but he was getting so tired. The complete lack of sleep last night was finally catching up with him, drowning out his thoughts and making him drift slowly into unconsciousness.

As Dew relaxed deeper into the couch, he felt Anton’s hand trail behind him before settling comfortably on his head, softly petting his fluffy hair. Dew melted into it, hugged his blanket closer, and started dozing off to the side.

Anton closed his eyes, clinging to him, petting his hair, cherishing this moment. It was just him and Dew. Safe and sound. He’d never let another bad thing happen to him again.

. . .

“Hey, Dewey?” Anton asked softly, stirring Dew awake.

“Huh?” Dew tiredly lifted his hands up to rub his eyes, all three of them landing on Anton once he came into focus in the dark. He was laying on the couch, head in Anton’s lap, the scientist’s hand softly petting his hair. He must have fallen asleep.

“The movie’s over. Let’s go back to your room.”

“M’kay.”

Dew allowed Anton to carry him to his room as he drifted between consciousnesses. Anton laid him down in bed and turned on his night light. “Goodnight, Dewey. Sleep tight.”

“G’night…” Dew murmured.

Anton lingered in the doorway for a few moments before shutting it and leaving the lab. Dew was comfortable melting into his sheets and drifting off to sweet, peaceful sleep until he heard someone trying to get his attention.

“Hey, Dew,” Max whispered. “Wake up.”

“Hmm?” Dew mumbled, sitting up with hair in his face and looking around the dark room, eyes adjusting just enough to see Max’s silhouette in front of him.

“Basil’s here. They wanted to say hi.”

“Oh,” Dew breathed. His eyes went wide. “Basil.” He’d almost forgotten about Anton’s old pet— the mouse. He never did get a chance to meet them.

“I don’t see them often. They’re not like me, they’re not trapped here. They spend their time in Anton’s room, they don’t like being in the lab, but… they’re my best friend too, and they wanted to meet you.”

Max held their hands open to reveal a small white mouse with dark spots curled up in their palms. Dew rubbed his eyes and smiled. They were so small, so cute, and yet they just looked like a trick of the light.

“Hi!” Basil squeaked.

She floated to Dew’s hands and curled up in a ball. Dew still couldn’t actually feel them, but it was a comforting sight nonetheless. Tears welled up in his eyes and he hugged her close, remembering the events of that day— that horrible day. Anton was the most distraught he’d ever seen him. His best friend had died, and now they were curled up in Dew’s hands, happy and peaceful as can be. Dew could tell this ghost was nothing like Max. This ghost was safe, their afterlife held no suffering, only peace. It seemed like the only reason they decided to stay in this mortal plane was so they could be with Max and Anton… and Dew, now.

He collapsed into his bed and cried, hugging himself tightly. Wet sobs racked his body as he clung to the sheets, grasping out for any comfort from the ghosts. He grieved for both of them. He realized he would have ended up like them if he’d gone through with it. He didn’t wanna think about what Anton would have done. He was so glad to be alive.

“We’re here, it’s okay,” Max whispered. They laid down on his bed next to him, holding Basil close, and started humming his favorite song. Dew wished he could feel their warmth, but the closer they got to him, the colder he felt. He wished he could just give them a hug. He wished someone would just give him a hug.

But as he lay there with both Max and Basil, the two of them trying their best to comfort him in the only ways they could, he held on tighter, and realized that them being together was all that mattered. He closed his eyes and fell asleep with his new friends, glad he wasn’t alone anymore.

— 

i’ve never actually seen frankenstein or reanimator btw but i thought those movies seemed fitting (and i don’t think anton would really be a fan of slasher type horror movies anyways). anyway i hoped yall liked it :3 (i'm honestly not too proud of it but whateverrrr) next chapter is one i’m SUPER DUPER EXCITED ABOUT!!! expect it VERY SOON because i’ve already written most of it!!!! YIPPEE

taglist:

@whumpinthepot @whump-me-all-night-long @whump321 @fuckcapitalismasshole @sorry-i-spaced 

@catnykit @tettlod @delicateprincepaper @rejectedbytheempty @mijajaj 

@anothertawogsideblog @creppersfunpalooza @toyybox @parasitebunny @bottlecapreader 

@thecareandkeepingofwhumpees @inkwell-and-dagger @vidawhump @thepotatoofnopes @labwhump 

@watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @whumping-valentine @whumpsoda @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @lumpofsand 

@cepheusgalaxy @lumpywhump @otter-chaos-violence @paperprinxe @kawaii-cakes 

@auradastler @whumperannon93 @befuddlednettle @eventide-paradox @bacillusinfection 

@whump-till-ya-jump 

let me know if you want to be removed or added to the taglist!

[yourlocaltreesimp]

Swooning series pt. 2

Apologies for the really long intro, there’s content here i swear. Have some selectively mute wild as a treat <3

PT 1

Wild

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Through what few memories that Wild retained, his training stayed most clearly. Perhaps because it was so vigorous that it sunk its ways through the grooves in his brain. It proved useful knowing how to fight fresh out of the Shrine of Resurrection and was certainly a saving grace in multiple occasions, from earning rupees at small traveller‘s challenges or food from saving the wandering folk of his Hyrule, those days spent training as a knight were more useful than they initially let on. But there was one drawback that stuck, even as a century seeped past. He could not speak. At first it was for his integrity, to be seen as the hero he was meant to be. Not that he much enjoyed it when he first began training, he certainly didn’t feel like a hero, but if people felt more assured with his silence, then maybe he could fool himself that this was his role.

It first proved to truly be an issue when he joined the chain. Not knowing where he was or how he got there, he did a run through of his memories, faded as they were. But they were there. A boy looked down at him, in his younger teen years if he was pressed to guess. Wild had moved to stand despite the skull splitting headache and lingering ringing in his ear. One hundred years can’t fix everything, apparently. But the somewhat lax energy he had was offset by the ever so familiar feeling of the pricking of nerves. It seems there was more than just the one boy. In fact, there were seven others, each staring at him expectantly. And just like that, his throat seized so badly that breathing was difficult. He registered that someone asked him a question and stared blankly at the man who spoke, one eye bearing back into Wild‘s own. He raised shaky hands, trying in some way to communicate his situation of muteness only to cut himself short. The man had begun to sign. They were slightly different than the ones Wild were familiar with, but they would do.

It’d so long that he got comfortable with them, speaking occasionally. But you… you changed things. In many ways, he supposes. At first you were scary, unfamiliar and something entirely new. Like waking up from his 100 year sleep. You disoriented his mind and raptured his thoughts. It was jarring and yet something he didn’t want to surpress. And yet, you continued to catch his attention. You did not question that he did not speak, still finding ways to include him in your interactions. But the morning you greeted him with sign was perhaps the morning that he realised what his fixation on you meant. You were something he learned from readily, grew to respect and eventually love. Much like his own relation to his namesake. The wilds of his Hyrule were scary and unfamiliar, but with time became something that he learned from and adapted to, and now something he loves. But you were someone he wants to know. Not at surface level, but he wants to know you more than he knows of himself. He wants to know what drives you, what makes you precisely who you are. And maybe some small part of him wants you to know him. The scars, nightmares, trauma and every other thing he was told he shouldn’t be. You have his every thought and you hold his heart in your hands. He didn’t know how much he missed having this kind of love until you.

Goddesses, he’s grown weak.

But for you? That’s ok.

[mipexch]

thinking about a potential ultrakill lethal company au type crossover for fun. long ramble of headcanons under the readmore. feel free to add on, i’d love to start something silly

i haven’t thought too much on the possibilities of an Actual fully fleshed out au complete with designated planets being certain layers so all of this is made under the idea that it’s just these characters tasked with doing what the employees do. all the headcanons i’ve made are just how i feel these characters would act :)

gabriel is.. he’s gabriel. his ass is getting fired IMMEDIATELY. he’s smart sometimes but his impulsivity & arrogance gets the best of him. he doesn’t need a flashlight— or a walkie-talkie for that matter. what is he, a husk? he goes in empty handed and comes out empty handed. his pride wont let him return to admit his tactic was shit so at best he steals another piece of scrap someone may have set at the front to bring back. sure. it works. he agrees to bring a walkie-talkie but sticking with the group is completely out of the question.

being the one on the monitor isn’t too difficult for him but it gets VERY stressful for the ones actually inside the facility. he’s going to yell at you to go a certain way and alert you to a nearby enemy only when he feels it’s absolutely necessary. he switches cameras very often and tasks himself with keeping everyone safe. if you stand still for more than 4 seconds he’s going to declare you dead and stop checking. (unless it’s V1)

if a dog happens to come by while he’s monitoring he’ll try hard to stay quiet for a short amount of time before fear gets the better of him and makes him start the ship (even if there’s still people inside). goes inside the facility half the time and stays back the other half. he enjoys reading through the bestiary and organizing all the scrap people dump onto the floor of the ship. very prone to getting attacked by snare fleas. he checks his surroundings but Not above him. dumbass

V1 is going in with nothing but a shovel and…another shovel. you cant even wield both but that doesnt stop them from wanting another. no one’s entirely sure how they have so many on hand except for gabriel. if he isn’t around to reluctantly buy them a shovel they’re going to buy as many as they can before they get caught. (gabriel makes sure to keep an eye on the terminal when they’re using it for this reason alone)

they beat the shit out of every enemy they find and disregard scrap completely. it’d probably beat another crewmate to death. whether it was on accident is up to you. they’re able to outsmart and survive certain enemies given they can hear them. they’d probably do very well at sneaking around dogs, although their first instinct is to make a run for it when there’s a forest giant. (they’re fast dont worry they can make it) the only creature they wouldn’t be able to survive and potentially beat to death is the bracken. explanation should be self explanatory given the enemy list i’ve made but they are Bad at frequently checking their surroundings and are very easily caught off guard. they can defend themselves quickly, but the bracken is. hm. yeah. you get it.

the only help they can offer their crew is being the only one brave enough (if you could even call it that) to retrieve someone’s corpse and successfully bring it back to the ship.

LOVES to scare other people by chasing after them with shovels but minos wrestles the damn thing away from them every single time

V2 is less like their predecessor but they still take after them quite a lot. they’re smart and actually have the decency to take a walkie talkie with them, but they don’t communicate much with it. it’s less of a necessity to them and more of a tool that may or may not prove useful in certain cases. they don’t particularly like being given orders (even if they know it’ll help) so it’s turned off half the time anyways. they’re smart in that they’ll actually look for and bring back scrap, but they have a bad habit of attempting to hold as much as they can instead of bringing more important things back to the front. they enjoy bringing back a big haul— it’s affirming. if V1 is with them, they’re going to try their hardest to avoid them but still follow their trail because they know every enemy they encounter will either be dead or chasing after the other. there’s a high chance there’ll be scrap V1 has ignored along the trail anyways. it’s smart until the frantic running stops and suddenly they’re face to face with a bracken. they’ll figure out a way around this eventually i’m sure.

they’re also really bad at jumping across platforms. they jump without looking and often take chances with jumps they can’t see. LOVES closing the ship door on V1 but if gabriel’s there its gonna be opened in under a few seconds & V1 will promptly chase them down with a shovel (and kill them!)

ferryman has a horrible case of GET SCARED disease but generally they do pretty well! they tend to follow around other crewmates but on the offchance they’re going alone or somehow get lost they ALWAYS bring a flashlight. they’re bad at navigating through the dark but they have a Really good sense of direction and can find their way back very easily. always the one tasked with investigating steamy rooms because they usually find the valve pretty quickly. surprisingly good at defending themselves against enemies given they have a weapon and a warning given before it shows up but coil-heads are a nono. they’re bad enough at prolonged eye contact as it is.

can’t work the monitor because they’re way too quiet for anyone to hear and they get really nervous about the forest giants (dogs are okay with them. they’re good at being silent) but they really like reading the logs people find. also really good at making jumps between platforms

swordsmachine ACTUALLY DOES THEIR JOB!!!!! SOMEWHAT!!!!! every piece of scrap they find goes to their designated corner at the front of the building. no one is allowed to take their scrap back to the ship. Their Pile. Will die everytime they land on a stormy planet because of their refusal to put their shit down. they’re smart but i think their scrap is too important to them and they think making a mad dash for the ship might give them enough time to get back before they get struck by lightning and explode. they bring NOTHING with them. they need all the space available to hold as much scrap as possible. if V2 is on the ship they tend to to tag along with them.

mindflayer reads as pretty lazy to me. im not sure why. they’d go into the facility but once they find one or two items they’re gonna return to base and camp out there for the rest of the time. they LOVE the mansions though. will stay in there for much longer than they should. steals all the keys people have collected overtime for mansion expeditions & unlocking all of the doors. very fond of almost every enemy EXCEPT the forest giants. they’re bad at not getting spotted

minos is like the Only level headed person on this entire fucking ship. does what he needs to! does it well! he heads into the facility when there’s less people going in (or the only ones going in don���t typically do much) but most of the time hes at the monitor. very good at calming people down when there’s an enemy near them. tends to lead the group whenever he actually goes inside. when he delivers back his first haul of scrap he always checks the monitor just to make sure everyone else is doing okay. he’s gonna go after them if he feels like they’re in a tight spot. instinctually goes for the fire exits instead of using the main entrance because he believes it’s better for some reason.

he has a nasty habit of staying in the facility for Far too long but he’s pretty diligent about getting back safely and with everything he’s found. if he feels particularly worried he’ll drop everything and run for it.

sisyphus is also pretty great. makes a lot of jokes over the walkie talkies whenever he’s doing monitoring (much to the dismay of whoever is being chased by creatures). he Will lock you in a hallway for shits and giggles but he’ll let you out after a few seconds. he does really well actually within the facilities but he’s mostly doing work outside with bringing scrap people leave outside back to the ship. loves jumping out of the ship before it lands so he can get a head start. if he hears or somehow knows that someone around him has just died he’s going to do everything in his power to bring their body back to the ship. he feels strangely obligated but in a way he enjoys. LOVES the jetpacks. buys one whenever it’s possible. weirdly bad at making the jumps between platforms

mirage really loves the mansions. will bring scrap back but leaves to explore the planets rather than focus on the job at hand. turns off her walkie talkie and keeps the flashlight just to stay out a bit later but always makes it back within the nick of time. if the monitor person dies (or everyone else does) she’s usually the one to start the ship and go. knows most planets like the back of her hand. if the mindflayer on the ship hasn’t already taken the stored keys then she probably will. not one to explore the facilities in the dark but she does really enjoy it when she gets to be alone. knows when it’s about time to leave if she starts hearing other people screaming. not intimated by the bracken- if anything she enjoy its company. her favorite piece of scrap are the paintings

POTENTIAL enemy list….

thumper - filth (ignore the staggering difference in power these two have)

spore lizard - cancerous rodent :)

bracken - something wicked. loves to target v1 specifically

snare-flea - ??? help me out here

hoarding bugs - swordsmachine would make SO much sense but for the sake of them actually being a crew member on this hell of a ship i’ll say a swordsmachine copycat. a scraphead

spider - i’m running out of enemies. spiders exist on earth too so i think it’d make sense for it to be a husk of some sort. nothing specific

baboon-hawk- drone :)

forest giant - i think corpse of king minos is most fitting. let’s just pretend he isnt 20 stories tall for the sake of this. cerberus would also make sense. either of them work

eyeless dogs - imagine a giant maurice rolling around. now imagine many of them. cant exactly see you because it’s made of fucking stone but it sure can hear you & you’ll definitely hear it when it comes barreling towards you before running you over

earth leviathan (worms) - EASILY the leviathan

coil-head - mannequin. maybe. bonus points if she gets to strike a different pose everytime she moves

ghost girl - i think it’d be funny if it were that one council member. any council member, honestly. they go after gabriel specifically

jester - im actually not sure! the skull looks most similar to minos’ parasites but at the same time having it be some weird hell-made husk machine would also be cool

jeb - it’s a bit lazy but hell itself would fit very nicely

turret - sentry. pink dot instead of orange

i’m ill. thanks for reading

[peachhcs]

https://www.tumblr.com/peachhcs/767959888939941888/httpswwwtumblrcompeachhcs767185748593164288

don’t apologize love writing takes time!

i love them and so glad they are communicating well ! i see will just taking more time to reassure making sure she feels a bit better more and maybe he starts calling her first more just to talk more and it helps a lot

maybe because she is hurt and cant play she comes to visit will for while doing some of her school online and it helps them a lot

part 10!! wow i can’t believe this accumulated so many parts. i think i’m gonna split this into two and make samy visiting will in california it’s own post if that’s ok and that’s what y’all want :) so sorry this one is a bit shorter than the others 😖

au masterlist

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9

it’d been almost three weeks since samy’s shoulder injury. she was getting a lot better every week and pt was for sure helping, but she still couldn’t play. the doctors hadn’t cleared her yet, so instead, the brunette was stuck doing what little she could at practice like legs or any footwork the coach had the girls work on.

she was bit discouraged because it was the first time since she started soccer that she couldn’t play every single day. it wasn’t something samy was used to, especially being so stationary all the time.

she left practice early wednesday night after not having anything to do. hannah was still in class when samy got into their apartment and that’s when her phone started loudly vibrating in her backpack.

“what the hell,” the soccer player cursed to herself as she dropped her backpack onto the ground and began rummaging through it.

she got her hands on her phone in the second pocket, her slight frustration turning to happiness when she saw will’s name on the screen.

“hi, will,” samy smiled when his face appeared.

“hey, pretty. what are you doing?” the blonde wondered while samy shuffled into her room to talk.

“came back from practice early today. there wasn’t a lot i could do today, so i just left,” the brunette shrugged, falling back onto her bed.

“i’m sorry. how’s the shoulder?”

“it’s fine. i guess i’m just bored and wish i could be playing instead of sitting around all day,” the two shared a frown at her words.

“have you tried doing other things that don’t involve using your arms? walking? running?” will suggested.

“yeah, but it bores me really quickly. i think i need things that are high intensity and quick moving. walking is a bit too slow for me,” samy chuckled to herself.

“figures. you did grow up doing the most contact, quick moving sports.”

“how are you though? how’s everything?” samy changed the subject. she didn’t really like talking about herself that much so she always made it a point to ask will about his day.

“i’m good. practice has been long, but it’s been fine. i miss you,” will hummed and that made the girl smile. even though they did just see each other about two and a half weeks ago, they’ll always miss one another no matter how much time passed since last time.

“i’m glad everything’s going well. coach didn’t kill you too hard for just leaving without a word?”

“no..not really. i do have to, uh, clean the rink after every practice for the next like month, but hey i’ll take it,” the blonde shrugged and it always amazed samy how nonchalant will could be about hockey sometimes because if that were her, she’d probably be freaking out more.

“well, i admire your coolness about it. thanks for coming to visit again, by the way. i liked seeing you and hopefully we can see one another again soon,” the brunette grinned.

“you know, i’ve actually been kind of thinking about that. since you aren’t really playing because of your shoulder..i was wondering if you..wanted to take that opportunity to come to san jose for the first time since you and my mom and sister dropped me off here?” will asked like he was asking his mom to let him spend the night at someone’s house when he was younger.

a flush rose to samy’s cheeks, “like..come to san jose? i-i don’t really have money or anything..”

“i’ll buy your ticket,” the boy immediately cut in.

“i can’t ask you to do that. we’ve talked about this, will,” samy flushed some more.

“i know, i know, but i figured it could take your mind off of things for a weekend? i can show you around san jose some more, we can do whatever you want really. plus, i have the money. i don’t mind. i wanna see you,” will explained his reasoning making samy’s flush turn into a pink blush on her cheeks.

“i wanna see you too. you really don’t mind buying my ticket? i..i don’t wanna make you think i’m like relying on you to do that..”

“baby, i promise you’re not. i want to. let me buy it for you and anything else you want when you come visit?” will cheered and samy rolled her eyes.

“maybe not that far, but i guess a trip to san jose won’t hurt. i have been trying to figure out when i can come visit you,” a smile crept its way onto will’s lips the more samy’s decision leaned to yes.

“exactly. let me at least take some of the burden off of you by buying your plane ticket.”

it seemed to be decided as the brunette slowly gave in. her smile turned into a grin and so did will’s seeing her pretty face. “okay, okay, i’ll come visit. next weekend i have no tests or anything to worry about,” the hughes decided.

“yes! i knew i could convince you. i’ll buy them right now,” will exclaimed and the girl giggled as she watched her boyfriend open up his laptop.

“i love you,” samy hummed.

“i love you, too,” will blew her a kiss through the phone which samy caught. she held her hand to her heart and giggled when will spun his computer around to show her the tickets he was thinking about buying.

[everydayyoulovemeless]

Another Bioshock req!! No rush ^^ How do the Bioshock characters act when they have a crush/are romantically interested in someone? Thank you ☺️

How Bioshock 1 Characters Act When They Have A Crush

➼ Word Count » 0.9k ➼ Warnings » None ➼ Genre » Romantic ➼ A/N » YES! I LOVE YOU

You can tell when Jack starts feeling a certain type of way toward you by how eager he is to help you out. It’d range from him offering to carry your bags to using small bursts of Incinerate! when you’re cold. He'll slowly find that he's happiest when you're near and will try to be around you as often as he can. He’ll invite you out to dinner, or to the movies, or on a walk - he doesn’t care! He’d follow you wherever as long as you were having fun. The little sisters will have to tug at his pant legs a lot because he falls completely into a trance whenever you enter the room. He's so embarrassed by it, but he just can't help resting his head in his hands when you start to cross his mind again.

Atlas hates it. It's the last thing he needs and will progressively get more and more aggressive the longer it goes on. It's not necessarily directed at you, but toward any other poor bystander who just happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. He'll give you easier tasks - something that doesn’t require you to leave any of the revolutionary bases - and will be firmer when it comes to your safety. You're not going to be fighting in the war and you're not going to be allowed in the room while he's interrogating someone. He’ll do anything in his power to prevent you from finding out just how violent he, and the rest of Rapture, can be.

Andrew Ryan will try to court you as any gentleman should. He’ll pay your rent, ask you out to dinner, and buy you all sorts of extravagant gifts and trinkets. He's under the impression that the best way to someone's heart is by presenting them with endless options and possibilities, and he can offer just that. He'll get you modeling gigs, use your voice in the Rapture Reminders, and grant you anything you'd ever wished for. He’ll shower you with mountains of materialistic items until you realize that he truly is the best option.

When Tenenbaum begins to develop feelings for someone, she tends to be far more keen on listening to them. She has a habit of wanting to correct people whenever they make a mistake, but with you, she finds that she's worried she'll come off too harsh. She also happens to be a little bit of a hopeless romantic and will write out entire lists of things that remind her of you just so she can better chart how strongly she’s feeling it. Sometimes she may even write short poems in the corners of her documents, although, she'd never dare show them to you.

You’re going to see a lot more of your features in Steinman’s patients, whether that be for better or for worse. He feels inspired by your mere presence and will frequently send you telegrams asking if you’d like to sit in on one of his surgeries or maybe just asking if you’d like to be a model for him? He wants to run his fingers across your face so badly, besides, studying your bone structure would help him perform more successful procedures, and wouldn't that be for the best?

Sander is probably the last person you want to have a crush on you. Somehow, he’ll find a way to get ahold of you and when he does, you’ll be his central muse, his inspiration for every sculpture, painting, play, poem - everything. He’ll quickly become very controlling over where you are and what you’re doing - he has to! You hold so much importance, not only to him but to the entire artist community in Rapture! Just pray he doesn’t lose this whimsical interest in you, or you may end up dead.

Fontaine is actually quite kind. Manipulative, sure, but he’d never dream of harming you. He’s got a lot of enemies, so one of the biggest signs that he’s started to grow fond of you is how protective he'll become. You'll slowly start to realize that whenever you leave your house, you're always being trailed by a handful of suspiciously inconspicuous men. He'd hate it if you somehow got involved with his political game, so the bodyguards he has following you all about Rapture are a precaution of his. He’s also a massive gift-giver. Mostly when it comes to clothing. He’ll send boxes of beautifully made outfits just because he likes seeing you all dolled up. Especially when it’s for him, in clothes that his company made.

Julie will be super tense around you. She's got a slight perfectionist streak and will constantly seek to be her best when she's around you. She relaxes a lot more when the two of you actually get together, but for now, she'll stand up straight, smooth out her dress, and shroud herself in all sorts of perfume. There are times when she may come off a tad harsh because of how desperately she wants to appear as smart in front of you, but she'll make up for it later when she leaves a bouquet of flowers and a sweetly written note on your doorstep.

Diane's quite confident in her approach. She'll most likely just start flirting with you outright, dragging her perfectly manicured nails down the front of your shirt while she compliments your outfit of the night. Then she'll tiptoe her fingers up your shoulder, bat her eyes, and ask if you'd like to move the conversation to the bar. Never one to be afraid of rejection and adores the attention you provide to her. If you're lucky she may even leave you with a kiss to remember her with.