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swiftllama · 1 year ago

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Anthony Complimenting Ian ☀️🔍

“I think that’s a big difference in us reuniting, is I am so willing to praise you and mention your strengths.”

Hey guys! Been working on this post for a while and so happy to finally share!

Before we knew of their reunion, there was this window of time where Anthony kept complimenting Ian on social media. That stood out to me then, especially after having very little interaction between them in so long. But now having the context that they were actually hanging out again behind the scenes, and that Anthony now makes a conscious effort to compliment/praise Ian makes it all the more sweeter. The said compliments I mentioned were posted at the time but the fandom wasn’t as active as it now is again so I wanted to compile a list of all the moments of Anthony complimenting Ian from their reunion to present for anyone who might’ve missed it. Enjoy!

Pre-Reunion

Okay so this first post is actually from before they reconnected. We know from the Smosh Reunion t-shirt that they reconnected in November 2022 and this post is from July 2022.

I like to think Anthony was in a better place with his emotions towards Smosh/Ian by this point, and that Ian had been on his mind and so a nice little compliment was to be had.

Post-Reunion

April 2023

5 months post-reunion and Anthony’s feeling more confident to joke around whilst still complimenting Ian. You love to see it! And Ian’s reply, him getting all embarrassed is cute 🤭

It also reminded me of these tweets from back in September 2017 :-

Confirmed: Anthony has a thing for calling Ian ‘daddy’. Noted. 👀

May 2023

Less than a month later and Anthony was back at it again with the compliments

Ian looks good and Anthony is determined to tell him at every opportunity!

And then…

June 2023

THE (PUBLIC) REUNION

And so ensued an abundance of compliments.

Anthony’s Interview

First lot of praise we saw from Anthony to Ian was in his interview with him. Tumblr sadly doesn’t allow you to add more than one video to a post so these are all quotes from said interview.

Like the tweet above of Ian getting his first chain necklace, they reference it once again. Ian is talking about how even though they’ve grown as people they haven’t changed that much, he references the fact Anthony has “more bling and tattoos” now, Anthony then interjects with :-

“Hey, you got a little bling too, let’s not discount it.”

Ian then shows the jewellery off and Anthony comes in saying “Baby’s first chain.” I like to think he was the first one to say that when Ian got the chain and where Ian got the inspo for his Twitter caption. Anthony then finishes this topic of conversation off by adding on that Ian also got “face bling too” in reference to his glasses. I know this isn’t really a full-out compliment and they’re just kinda messing about, but I think it still stands with Anthony saying that’s something that’s changed between them now is that he’s willing to compliment him, and I love how when Ian tries to downplay something about himself, Anthony jumps straight in there to lift him up too.

Another complimentary moment from the interview was when Anthony was talking about when he was 15 and came down with an autoimmune disease resulting in him missing half a year of school and Ian got a bunch of people to sign a ‘Get Well Soon’ card to give to Anthony to make him feel better.

“There is one moment, one thing that you did for me, when we were younger that really stood out to me that I never mentioned to you and I never thanked you for. I’ve been holding it in and I have never expressed it…. I don’t know how you got it to me, but somehow you got a ‘get well soon’ card that you gave to me - Okay, I don’t know if it was you who came up with the idea or your mom, or if like your mom told you, you had to do it. And a whole a bunch of people signed it and you wrote a message like ‘get well soon, we can’t wait to see you again’. And that, it really meant a lot to me, and yeah, it kinda kept me motivated and focused, and I don’t know why but for some reason it motived me to learn how to program a website, program a game, and I feel like because of that in some ways I was able to channel all my energy into creating the things that eventually culminated in what the foundation of Smosh was.”

I really love this moment, and I think it really shows Anthony’s growth. As was revealed in his letter to Ian, there was a period of time in which he felt he had more of a hand in creating Smosh in the early days, but the fact he can now acknowledge and recognise Ian’s input in it all, even before Smosh was a thing, and thank him for it really shows how far Anthony has come.

The last lot of praise from the interview is actually something Anthony has mentioned multiple times as you will see later on in this post and that is about their dynamic and how they work together.

“I think the fact we work in such different ways, like I’m able to really hyper-focus on something and put all my energy, just like back-to-back constantly in one chunk, I think that works really well when compared against the way that you work, where you are super creative and..”

Ian interjects by saying his head is “up in the clouds” when he works. Anthony continues by saying that Ian needs to be there to come up with the ideas that he does and then praises him once more :-

“I could never come up with most of the ideas that you come up with, but I feel I know how to formulate it and put it together.”

Next lot of praise for the month was this tweet :-

Anthony praising Ian, along with everyone else who had a hand in keeping Smosh going all these years. Similar to something he said at Vidcon when he interviewed Ian once again :-

“I just want to say huge, huge respect to you for staying with Smosh. For having that faith in it that it could continue to grow and be something bigger…” [audience cheers and Anthony points to Ian] “So huge, huge respect to Ian. That took a lot of tenacity - the tenacity you said I had, that’s where you really showed up. And Ian had to learn how to be a leader, Ian had to learn how to do all these things where he was just thrown into that because I made the decision to leave because Smosh, what it had become, was eating a hole in me and I felt I needed to walk away to figure myself out, to just grow on my own and I’m so thankful that you stuck around to keep it going so that we could do this [own Smosh again].”

And there was more where that came from and leads me onto the next lot of compliments :-

Vidcon 2023

“When Ian came over to my place to write… I remember I was sitting on the coffee table writing these jokes and you would say something and it would totally catch me off guard just like you used to do.”

Anthony said this so fondly to Ian, the “just like you used to do.” It goes back to what he said during his interview with Ian, which he got emotional about, that during the lunch where they reconnected properly for the first time, he saw his childhood friend in that moment. That despite how much they had both changed, the Ian he knew, the only one who can make him laugh like he does, was and is still there.

Anthony goes on to bring up their working dynamic again as he did in his interview :-

“While we were writing that sketch, while we were shooting it, there was this feeling - I didn’t realise it, but there was something missing from my creative process. Especially in creating comedy, that Ian just perfectly… I don’t know if I want to say yin and yang - I don’t know what I want to say about it. But it was just this perfect balance, that feels like in order for us to reach our fullest potential creatively, us working together is, in my heart, the only way for that to really reach its fullest capacity.”

Ian then responds in his usual way, trying to downplay his efforts by agreeing that their dynamic works well that way because he’s, in his own words, “kind of lazy.”

Anthony is quick to jump in though :-

“I think that’s a misconception, you’re not lazy.”

I love how he just outright refuses to let Ian talk down about himself nowadays. He will absolutely not have it!

Ian continues on and compliments Anthony in return by saying he is very ‘tenacious’ and ‘focused’, and ‘particular about things.’ Whereas Ian’s way of working, as Anthony goes on to say, is “throwing stuff out” and Anthony likes to pick out the best of the best from those ideas. And this is when we got the first of the ☀️🔍 analogies :-

“It feels almost like Ian is the sun radiating all these ideas in every direction, and then I’m the magnifying glass that’s like ‘let’s focus on this one, let’s make this one fire. This one’s amazing.’ And something about just the way that we work together just meshes so perfectly, and I think that’s how we became best friends in sixth grade, that’s how we established our sense of humour and why the Smosh videos that we created resonated with so many people, is because there is that perfect dichotomy between us.”

Do you think Anthony thinks their dynamic is perfect? I don’t know 🤔 I don’t think he mentioned it enough.

Jokes aside, it is very sweet. And I love how much he loves their connection.

The next lot of compliments come straight after the quote of Anthony praising Ian for sticking with Smosh whilst he was gone :-

“I’m super thankful - you know for the past six years it just felt like there was a hole in there [in his heart]. You know I’ve been creating my own interview series and it’s felt like this is a great way for me to be able to express a part of me, but not all of me. And that other part of me that wasn’t being expressed is that part of me that I now get to experience with you, and working with you, my childhood best friend, in creating something and being able to capture that magic and express it, and be able to present it for all of you [the audience], it’s a really, really great feeling.”

Ian then responds with another little compliment of his own :-

“I think on my side, you know when you left I was still making sketch comedy, I was still writing, but I never found the same kind of writing partner that I did after you. It was never the same. The way that we work together, I never quite found that kind of person to easily bounce ideas off to, so I kind of stepped back a little bit from the writing.”

It also reminds me of something Ian said during Anthony’s interview, about how they have this level of ‘trust’ between them, that Ian never found again with anyone else after Anthony left. Makes me so soft, they feel so lucky to have each other again. No one quite gets them like the other does and they can never replace what they have. Their connection truly is special.

This is more of a silly one and just them joking around but I’m including it anyways! They had a Q&A session with the audience after the interview and the person asking the question starts off by introducing themselves and saying how they met Ian the other day and apologises for calling him “old.”

They both laugh and Ian pretends to begin to walk off stage. And then, you guessed it, Anthony swoops in with a retort :-

“Hey! He’s 35 years young.”

Moving on to later the same day, after playing a live version of TNTL with the cast, they all had a sit-down Q&A :-

Q: “What inspires you? What made you who you are?”

And of course, as if he hadn’t already killed us enough, Anthony has to go and say this :-

“I’m about to say something totally whack. I’d say, Ian and my friendship when we first started really connecting. I feel like Ian taught me to not take myself too seriously and his sense of humour is just all over the place and I eat that shit up, I think it’s so funny.”

Like wtf. WHAT THE FUCK.

Ian’s reaction to him saying that pretty much sums up my emotions.

And that was it for Vidcon!

Except if you count this little cherry on top and the perfect closing to June as the picture is from Vidcon :-

Anthony being obsessed with Ian on main! You love to see it!

July 2023

Started off July with a bang and the ☀️🔍 article :-

Never getting over this! Anthony just loves the sun and magnifying glass analogy and I couldn’t be more here for it. Ian is the sun in his life 💛🖤

Ian Reads Anthony’s Angry Letter

And then came the infamous letter video. Which even though there were a few hurtful things revealed, there still managed to be a few nods of acknowledgment towards Ian even in that hurt Anthony felt.

As mentioned earlier in this post, in part of the letter Anthony writes that in the early days of Smosh he wanted it to be something ‘he’ made with Ian’s help, and that he considered Ian to only be “tagging along”. He goes on to apologise [in the letter] for if he ever made Ian feel like he didn’t deserve as much credit as he did.

“You may not have done some of the heavy lifting I did in the early days, but definitely encouraged us to keep going and you kept things light and full of laughs as we did it. We accomplished so much and I am just now realising how important you were in making that happen.”

Anthony then brings up something that happened recently between them :-

“But that thing that you read there - you did, and this was actually really nice for me to hear from you. It was a few days after we had confirmation that we had bought Smosh, you came over to my place, we had a little celebratory hang; very luxurious. We chilled with cigars and some whiskey, and we just bro-ed it up, and you said that to me. That exact thing - you said, “hey, I don’t think I ever really acknowledged the heavy lifting that you did in the early days” and you said that you “felt really lucky to be there at that time and that I included you in that.” And that was really nice to hear, even though I know.”

So I know technically this compliment/praise/acknowledgment isn’t new as the letter was written in 2017, but it’s ‘new’ to us. But I’m glad to hear that Anthony does acknowledge Ian’s involvement in Smosh’s success, even in the early days when Anthony was doing more of the technical things. He acknowledges that Ian still had a role to play in it all being what it was.

Ian agrees with what Anthony is saying, and that he always felt ‘guilt’ over the fact Anthony had to do the things he didn’t have the skillset to do, but recognises that he didn’t acknowledge or thank Anthony enough for it because he was ‘afraid’ that he might have to do more when their whole thing was about doing “equal work” because they felt as a duo they had to, and that if the other felt they were doing more work then there was some resentment there. Ian tries to downplay himself by joking “In most cases you were doing more work than me…” but Anthony is quick to jump in again and not allow it.

“I was doing more hours, but I think you were doing more of the creative heavy-lifting which is more taxing in many ways. So I think that you needed your time to recoup your energy, cause you’re coming up with funny stuff, and at that time I was like ‘I’m doing so much work’.”

Also another mention of Ian’s creativity and humour when it comes to writing, that Anthony acknowledges he wouldn’t be able come up with. But you can see where the ‘resentment’ they talked of came from, and why Anthony felt he was doing more. When in reality it’s just that’s their strengths lie in different areas, but that doesn’t make the work they both do individually any less important. So I am happy they can see that now and praise each other for the unique ways in which they shine which compliments their own strengths in their own special ways.

WE WERE ROBBED! Watch Party

It happened again. Anthony calling Ian ‘daddy’. Can we just all agree that he has a thing for it? Okay. Good.

They’re discussing how everyone in chat is poking fun at Ian for saying “you guys are a fun bunch” to the rest of the group during the ‘Do Men Know Reproductive Anatomy?’ Smosh Pit video and how it was a ‘dad’ comment. Ian reads out a comment talking about how Arasha called him ‘dad’ and he says “[she] can because she’s my son”. And then Mr ‘Ian is Daddy’ Padilla jumps in with the correction once again :-

Anthony: “I think you’re becoming ‘daddy’.”

Ian: [asks if it’s when he puts his glasses on]

Anthony: “Especially.”

Ian: [puts glasses on]

Anthony: “Oh damn, daddy.”

Like why is this Anthony’s thing now? Whatever the reason - I’m here for it.

Also, Ian doesn’t like to be referred to as ‘pops’ but Anthony’s into it. So, Daddy and Pops. It’s settled. Love our parents 👨‍👨‍👧‍👦

Smosh Mouth

And just like we started July, we ended it the same - with a bang!

I urge you if you haven’t seen it yet (or even if you have), to go watch this video. It may as well have been named ‘Praise Ian Hour’. Not only have we got Anthony, but also Shayne and Amanda coming in to add to the many compliments.

I know all these compliments the others were giving Ian were probably making Anthony’s heart swell with pride. To know that not only himself, but everyone else also recognises Ian’s strengths. To know that these things he loves about Ian, others see in him too.

So a lot of the video was the others complimenting Ian rather than from Anthony himself, but he agreed with everything they were saying and added a few little tidbits. So this next lot of compliments will be what Shayne and Amanda said, along with Anthony’s comments :-

Amanda: [talking about when she first auditioned for Smosh] “And I’ll never forget after I did that [read the script], it was really fun - they asked me a question, and I was in a really interesting place in my life… And they were like “If you could have one superpower, what would it be?” and I just said “Vulnerability.”… And I’ll never forget, Ian stood up and went “Do you write comedy also?” and I said “Yeah!”, and he went [nods] and he shook my hand.”

Anthony: [grinning ear to ear] “He knew. He knew.”

Happy boy loving hearing people praise his bff 🥰

“I think honestly that statement alone is exactly why you’re doing a podcast. I think Ian was able, if he really did know in that moment, I think it probably was seeing that there was more to you than just the comedy, there’s more depth there, there’s multiple layers, and you can build on that a lot more than just somebody who can only do one type of thing.”

A very sweet comment. How Ian recognised the talent in Amanda from that one thing she said, and also cute how well Anthony knows Ian so can see exactly where he was coming from in seeing that talent in her and why she ended up at Smosh.

Shayne: “…I’m curious how you [Anthony] think things were going in the years you were gone? It’s been fun to see this arc of Ian. And being honest I’ve gotten to know Ian so well over the course of 6 years and that’s what’s so interesting about you coming back. You know Ian better than any of us-”

Anthony: “But I don’t know the Ian from the past 6 years as well as well as you guys do.”

Shayne: “…But you haven’t seen president Ian.” [talks about how when Anthony was still there both him and Ian were so busy under Defy that they weren’t around much to act as leaders]

Anthony: “Yeah, there was no leadership really coming from Ian and I, except that I think we showed excitement and passion… We showed that, and I think that’s where we kinda led, but it wasn’t really ‘we’re the leaders’ and when I left, and especially when Defy collapsed and Ian was left there making a lot of those decisions, he had to be the leader that had to lead by example and get everyone onboard with his ideas, and that was a really unique role for him because he was kinda forced into that position, and he was forced to get really good at it. And I think, over the 6 year time period that I was gone, I’ve seen him, observing from the outside, I’ve seen him get better and better at that role. Even though I know he doesn’t ‘love’ it, he’s not like ‘I can’t wait to go and be a leader when I go to work’, and he’s told me that he feels like he thrives most when we have the dynamic between us where I can pick up when he’s not really-”

“observing from the outside” 🥺 the fact he was still checking up on Ian even when they weren’t close anymore, it shows that the care was still there despite the strain on the relationship. It also reminds me of what Ian said during Anthony’s interview, that he could tell Anthony was floundering when he first left :-

Ian: “I could see very clearly what you were doing and what was going on. It was very clear that you were trying to find your individual creative voice. And with the types of videos you were putting out it felt very much like you’d throw this out and see if that would stick, you’d throw that out and see if that would stick. You’d get excited about something - I could tell there was a time when I think you were watching Nathan For You, and you were getting excited about this one kind of style.”

Anthony: “Damn, you read me like a book.”

It’s just like Shayne said - they know each other better than anyone. And that extends to even when they weren’t speaking, they still knew the other inside and out.

Amanda: “He’s glowing right now.”

Shayne: “He’s been so happy.”

Anthony: “It’s really, really cool to see because you know watching from the outside, I was able to observe his mannerisms and kind of get a general idea of where his headspace was at, but even then I wasn’t able to fully understand him because I didn’t fully understand him for so many years leading up to it, so I was just an outside observer trying to just keep tabs. But I do notice a stark difference, ever since Ian and I had that discussion, and were like ‘you know what, let’s buy Smosh and anything we can do to make that happen, let’s do it’. And after that conversation I’ve been keeping up-to-date with the content a lot more and I’ve seen Ian shine in such an interesting way, where I don’t even know if you guys felt it - like before the announcement, you felt something good was coming?”

Is everyone sufficiently in tears? Good, because me too. This isn’t even the end of this convo, I just had the pause to go over all of what was just said. Both Amanda and Shayne saying how happy Ian is now, I don’t know how Anthony didn’t cry on the spot! I did and it’s not even about me! Like hearing that, knowing it’s because of him that Ian is so happy 😭 and I think the same can be said for Anthony. They’re both so happy to have each other again ❤️

Shayne: “I did start to notice a change these past few months. I started to notice - this dude, there’s something about him, like the ‘cool’ factor started to change. He started wearing a chain! He started tucking shirts in.”

Amanda: “Oh yeah! He tucked in every shirt. He wore a chain. He was glowing. And our conversations were about life and joy and not really what he was reading on the internet.”

Shayne: “His confidence level has changed this year. When you guys announced the whole thing [buying Smosh], you walked into the building and I was like ‘Okay this makes sense!’ He’s feeling a lot more confident because things are feeling more certain and this place is going to turn into more of what he wants.”

Anthony: [agrees, and talks about how he thinks the confidence comes from a place of Ian now knowing the future of Smosh is secure under them after not knowing for a long time] “And I think for some reason, just naturally his confidence started growing as - I don’t know if this is related, but he is so good at writing and coming up with jokes, and I think for a long time he got the impression in his head that he wasn’t good at that anymore. And I think the Smosh channel moving away from written stuff, which I feel like he just really shines at - these absurd ideas, and when they come to life on screen maybe I’m able to help keep them a little bit more focused. But I really love that, cause he has so many great ideas and I started noticing just how many good ideas - he would throw out like 30 ideas and 20 of them were brilliant. But I feel like he started to gain confidence too in our writing sessions where he realised, ‘oh this isn’t a fluke, I wasn’t just funny in the past’ - I don’t know if this was the worry that was going on in his head, but it certainly was in mine. I was like, ‘was I only good at this in the past? can I be good at this now?’ and we both discovered together that what we were good at in the past, was more of a representation of our innate abilities and personality on our own but also the dynamic between us, and it seems like his confidence was growing there, and on camera when I would watch him from the outside, even hosting ‘Let’s Do This’ - when I saw him hosting these things it seemed like he was much more confident and he was able to take initiative.”

I love how much Anthony talks about how good Ian is at writing and coming up with jokes, and how much he reiterates that nowadays. I love that he recognises that talent in him and acknowledges how his own abilities complement Ian’s so well and why their dynamic is so special and works so well.

Shayne: “Ian is so much funnier than he realises. And maybe he’s realising it now-“

Anthony: “Yeah, I hope so.”

Aw Anthony 🥺 well if he doesn’t, you’re there to remind him tenfold.

Shayne: “But over these past years, I think the thing that has always frustrated me is - as you said [Anthony], he’ll throw out ideas but he’ll be like ‘oh this one’s dumb’ and I’m like ‘no that’s really funny, man’…. But whenever he goes 100% and he commits fully it’s always great.”

Anthony: “Always great.”

Shayne: “And I think he really does that in your guy’s sketches, there’s no doubt - the Ian that people know and love is that guy. And I think when he’s able to write and know what it is, he goes full force. But I will say even with the improvised stuff he held himself back - he’s so good, but he just needs to allow himself go full force.”

Anthony: “I think he would second guess.”

Shayne: “He second guesses. And I feel bad talking about him without him here, but it’s all good things. Cause reality is he’s really, really talented.”

Anthony: “The truth is he was doubting himself, but the less he’s doubting himself [he’s able to go full force].”

Shayne: [talks about how Ian has said 2019 was one of the hardest years after Defy collapsed and he had to step up as a leader and figure things out on his own] “So suddenly one day Smosh is gone and all these people are just gone, they don’t care. And I remember talking to Ian and being like “hey, so what are we gonna do?” and I remember this look of just - it’s still Ian where everything’s very casual and just kinda shrugged off almost, but I remember him just being like “We’re gonna figure it out. I’m gonna get this together”, and I was just like “That’s the most confident you’ve ever sounded about anything.”

Amanda: “It’s cause he was a single dad, he had to figure it out.”

Shayne: “But Ian’s always like ‘yeah, I dunno’ but this was the first time he was like ‘we’re gonna - I’m gonna - we’re gonna have it.’

Anthony: “And I feel like we see that [confidence] a lot more from him now.”

Shayne: “Yeah, and that was the first time that I was like ‘Dude, this Ian’s crazy. This guy’s not fucking around.’ and he had to do so much behind the scenes that I didn’t see, but he was making business deals and he was working all day, every day to get that shit together. And you know people say Rhett and Link saved Smosh, it’s like Ian saved Smosh. Rhett and Link were there to make that deal happen, but Ian was the one who put that shit together.”

Anthony: “For sure.”

Loved this from Shayne! Because it’s so true, yes R&L were there when Smosh needed a home, but Ian was the one who put in the hard work to make that happen. None of it could have happened without him. And I’m glad Anthony agrees, and as his comments at Vidcon suggest, he’s very thankful that Ian was there to save Smosh so he could come back and they could rightfully own what is their’s, doing what they love, together again.

Shayne: [talking about how Ian and Anthony going their separate ways needed to happen] “You started this thing forever ago when you were kids and it’s completely overshadowed your own lives and your friendship. To be able to take a step away and figure out who you guys are on your own and then come back - you guys at a certain point were forced to be best friends on camera and that’s tough and it becomes a product more than an actual friendship, so to be able to walk away and leave that alone and then choose to be best friends again.”

Not so much a compliment, just loved this. It’s the choice to be best friends again that gets me. Something they’re actively choosing and put above everything else, they’re never going to let anything get in the way of their friendship again and that is so special.

The famous quote comes to mind :-

“If you love something, set it free. If it comes back, it’s yours.”

Shayne: “I said it to Ian when he was on the podcast - I really respect both of you for your both individual journeys in all this. Like your choice to leave the thing you made forever ago as a kid, that meant everything to you, that’s an insane choice. And you made it for your own good, and you recognised your own happiness and that was gigantic. And Ian, I think really was scared to be a leader here, he was scared to be on his own, like president, and he really did it and he’s stuck with it through crazy [times] - not only the shutdown where he stepped up, but the pandemic as well, where we were all filming stuff on our own by ourselves, and he stuck with it, man. That dude, he’s had some endurance with all of this and so to see you guys back together, I know for him there’s pressure taken off because he has you, and I can see there’s so many aspects of the job that he questions himself - I think he’s great at it, but he questions himself and I think you can fill in that part for him where he’s like ‘oh sweet, I know I can rely on you’.”

Anthony looks like he’s about ready to cry when Shayne said that and I don’t blame him because I could too.

Knowing just how important he is to Ian. That he is the only person Ian can rely on when it comes the leadership side of the business, an area where he’s been alone in for so long, doubting himself, I’m sure it makes Anthony want to hype him up and reassure him even more that he’s doing a good job.

Shayne: “And I said this to you, I think the day you first came back, but I’m like - you both together is one of the greatest YouTubers ever.”

Anthony: “I appreciate that.”

Shayne: “You individually - super successful. Like you went and you were successful on your own. Ian maintained Smosh on his own. That’s really cool to see that there was success from both of you individually, but together - I mean when we’re at Vidcon and we’re talking to other YouTubers, Smosh has, there’s something to it right? Like other YouTubers go ‘Oh! Smosh!’ that’s a big deal.”

It’s so emotional how this thing that Ian and Anthony created together as teenagers is what it is now 🥲 and it’s so true - together, they’re something special.

Anthony: [discussing how he discovered his interview format for his videos after trying lots of different kinds of content after leaving Smosh] “I thought that my lane was making sketch comedy so I was writing out some stuff. But I realised that on my own, without Ian, I am not a very strong writer. I do not have the funniest jokes.”

Again, Anthony recognising Ian’s talent when it comes to writing and the Yin and Yang of their dynamic, and how they need each other to really be at their best.

[Amanda says how Anthony seems like an extrovert in his interviews. He says it’s an illusion and that he’s really introverted - Shayne agrees that he is]

Shayne: “I mean I’m just now hanging out with you again recently, but I always got the sense, and I get the sense still, that Ian is the outgoing one.”

Anthony: “Yeah.”

Shayne: “Ian’s super outgoing, and people maybe don’t clock that… At parties, Ian will walk up to any group of people and he’ll just join the conversation.”

Anthony: “For sure.”

Amanda: “You’re right, he does.”

Shayne: “It is shocking to me. And he’s so chill about it.”

I know this was mainly just Anthony agreeing, but I found it interesting and it made me wonder if that is another reason their dynamic works so well and if it’s maybe also a comfort for Anthony? As a fellow introvert, I know how much easier it makes things when you have an extroverted person with you in social situations that you feel uncomfortable with. So I wonder if it’s the same for Anthony with Ian, that he has him there to lean on, knowing he’ll take the forefront in those types of situations if he needs it.

And that was it for the podcast and for the month of July.

And so draws to a close the first instalment of this compliments series. I plan to continue this month to month, or every few depending on how much content there is - you’ll be able to find all parts in the Compliments Masterlist.

Thank you for reading and catching up with the world of the Anthony Padilla Ian Hecox Fanclub with me. Hope you enjoyed and I shall see you next time!

#this took me so long so rb are appreciated 😅#wanted to get this out end of July but didn’t finish in time #started adding august onto it forgetting you can only add 10 photos on a post 😑#but anyways! so happy to finally get this out to you guys!#smosh #ian hecox #anthony padilla #ianthony #☀️🔍#ianthony compliments #ian and anthony #smoshian #smoshanthony #smosh ian #smosh anthony #my posts

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infiniteglitterfall · 5 months ago

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the worst part about the i/p discourse

it's NOT the posters of Nazis with the swastikas on their flags replaced by stars of david. or the pages and pages of blood libel conspiracy theories in instagram posts about why local pride organizers are such big meanies. or the newfound insistence that jews just exaggerate and make up antisemitic incidents to smear the pro-palestine movement....

it's the fact that every. single. time. i try to post anything about any of these things, i end up in a rabbit hole SO DEEP IT'S IMPOSSIBLE TO GET TO THE BOTTOM.

Yesterday, I saw a --

YOU SEE? I went to Reddit for a second to find the link to the post about the Melbourne protest this week that had people carrying the Nazi-star-of-David posters. But first, I saw a post that began, "All I see on social media and the news is more and more attacks. Who beat up a Jewish family here, who stabbed a 1 year old in front of a synagouge. Those are two examples, I've lost track of all of the other ones."

and I was like, SOMEONE STABBED A ONE YEAR OLD IN FRONT OF A SYNAGOGUE?!?!

And I started to look that up. AND THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENS. EVERY SINGLE TIME.

Two days ago, I saw an article about Cincinnati Socialists setting up a table at North Kentucky Pride without asking, it sounds like, to hand out flyers saying the war in Gaza was Netanyahu's "Final Solution" for Palestinians. Cincinnati Pride organizers alerted the NKY Pride organizers, who kicked them out.

I was like, "okay, well, let's see what Cincinnati Socialists say about it." Then I discovered that their instagram not only "names and shames" the two Cincy Pride organizers and one NKY organizer. Which led to the Cincy ones getting so much harassment and violent threats that they resigned....

But also has a related post that goes on for pages and pages of pure blood libel.

So then I sat there fact-checking all their blood libel and finding out that not only was it untrue and impossible, but half the stuff they referenced didn't even exist.

Then I ended up fact-checking things in the "article" that they'd clearly used as their source. Fact-checking things I found while fact-checking those.

Trying to write a Facebook post about how fucked up it all was. Giving up on the Facebook post after several hours because it made more sense to write it on Tumblr, or at least to write it on Tumblr FIRST.

Then I'm also looking at the post they made "naming and shaming" the organizers, which is like... "the Cincy ones are partners! two days after Hamas's incredibly violent and brutal massacre, one of them changed his profile picture to a photo of them honeymooning IN ISRAEL two years ago! they did it through some group that COVERS A LOT OF THE COSTS FOR HONEYMOONS IN ISRAEL!!!!" and "the other one went to a protest of Hamas's massacre!!! with a sign saying to free the hostages!!!"

oh no. the fucking horror. truly how did these genocidal monsters even end up on the pride organizing committee. this is a shanda scandal.

then I'm responding to people's comments, trying to talk them down from horrible positions. telling people things like, "I know it's asking a LOT, but if people could grasp the idea that "going to Israel for your honeymoon" ISN'T "committing genocide," it would be really great. Or that wanting the hostages freed is actually something that both Israeli AND GAZAN protests have called for, and it's only Westerners who are opposed to it. Or that in fact, saying you "Stand with Israel," a few days after an incredibly brutal attack that burned multiple towns to the ground in one day, killed entire families and their pets, an attack which Hamas has promised to repeat "again and again and again" till Israel is violently destroyed... is opposing that attack, NOT calling for genocide."

then i'm like, "oh, i should edit these images to show the correct info, and i can explain that I drew arrows and added the correct info!" so then i'm doing that and working on writing alt text, and holy shit??? how many fucking hours??? did i spend on this?????? just because i read a frigging reddit post that linked to an article about it?????????

and like. i can go through and debunk all that shit in the comments. (and did. i responded to every single comment that believed this shit.) but ultimately, everyone who pulls this shit has way more reach than I do.

just. like. THAT'S ONE ORG IN ONE PLACE. And it was bad enough that I persevered and finished debunking it and commenting on it today and started telling people about it. Do you even know how many more of those I've seen?! How many I would see if I looked for them on purpose?!

The tsunami of deliberate disinformation is SO FUCKING BAD. All of it is SO FUCKING LAYERED. In any single bullshit post, there are SO MANY horrifically bad and wrong assumptions. So many of them are DESIGNED, BY HAMAS, to lead people down the path to "All Zionists should die! Israel should be violently destroyed!"

There were so many comments on a "Free Palestine Melbourne" group's instagram post (Sydney? Could've been Sydney) asking, pointedly, how many Jews are Zionists. What percentage of Jews are Zionists, again?

One (1) had a response telling them it doesn't matter what the percentage is, no percentage would justify collective punishment of Jews.

The rest all said things like, "Too many."

It feels like constantly being lied to. Just constantly being lied to about things I have looked up and verified myself from solid sources, now and in the past, by people I counted as my community.

Then just now I opened Instagram because I hadn't taken screenshots of a couple of the pics I wanted to add. And I'm hit with these:

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by jewsinschool (@jewsinschool)

instagram

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Jewish on Campus (@jewishoncampus)

instagram

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Jewish and Proud (@jewishpridealways)

instagram

Then some brighter posts (including one of a baby bat!!) and then a post which sums up a lot of what I'm feeling right now.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Jess Cook (@jessicagcoook)

instagram

It's like, yes, that, plus the uncomfortable sense that some people are getting thisclose to going, "Most Jews are Zionists anyway, so YEAH, I DO think most Jews deserve to die."

#antisemitic tropes #blood libel #depressing discourse #fuck hamas #long post #wall of words #Instagram

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bronx-bomber87 · 19 days ago

Note

Hi!! I just spent the last hour scrolling through your page and I adore everything you have to say about tim and lucy…

So I was curious (because I’m a month into the fandom and I don’t really know anyone yet) what your thoughts, predictions, expectations for season 7 would be?

Sorry if you’ve posted something similar before, please point me in the right direction if you have :)

- Loren

Hi! @moderatelydelusional Nice to meet you, Loren. Thank you for the lovely ask :) Making me all red with your nice comment. So glad you liked everything I've had to say about our lovely ship. Appreciate it so much. Before I answer I want to say welcome to the fandom! We are glad to have you here. 😊 There are so many good blogs on tumblr for them. Glad you chose me as one of them. I am honored. ❤️ I haven't really tackled s7 at all so this is a good ask. Excited to answer it. I'm a detailed woman. So imma break your question down into sections if that's alright. I legit don't know how to be brief about this show or them haha Also will do it with gifs cause that's my thing. Here is my detailed answer below. Hope you enjoy it.

Thoughts on S7- Well we've had ZERO and I mean ZERO spoilers or indicators about this upcoming season. Which I do love them keeping it close to the vest. Honestly I do. Just means they have something incredibly good lined up. They just want to make sure we are surprised. Can't fault them for that. But I'm dying for anything. The end of s6 left us wanting so much more with the scene above. We are all chomping at the bit for any content. I know Eric had a interview couple weeks back about s7. From what little he was able to divulge I am EXCITED.

Here is the link to it. Talks about Tim needing to EARN Lucy back in more ways than one. How she is the love of his life. (Tell us something we don't know haha) But I love Eric referring to her to as such. The personal development for Tim to come as well. Like I said they haven't given us much of anything yet. It's hard to have thoughts when we don't have much to go on. But it seems like it'll be well rounded season. It's always been a character driven show so I think it'll be more than just our ship. Which is fine with me. It is an ensemble cast after all.

I fell in love with this show as a whole when it first launched back in 2018. Give me more Tim/Angela, Lucy/Nyla and Wopez. I'll take all of that. I have been all in from the Pilot. I remember watching it on my lunch break on my phone when it first premiered. I was hooked. When we finally get a promo and a friggin premiere date I can probably be more in depth with my answer. Since we don't have a lot to go on it's hard to have in depth thoughts ha But from what little they've let out I'm quite excited for the journey we're going to embark on. We just need a start date for said journey. All we know is Jan but I need a hard date LOL

Expectations For S7. -I expect Chenford to get back to the softness above. It won't be easy but I expect we are headed back there. I think it's gonna be quite the journey to get us there. Both Tim and Lucy are going to need to grow before we do. They both still have shit to work out. Lucy with her career path and the rough time she had last year. It wasn't just Tim that crushed her. I mean it was a huge headliner but wasn't the ONLY one. Our girl has some communication problems and is like her soulmate in how she handles emotional distress. Expect that to be addressed on some level.

Tim obviously has a lot to make up for and he knows it. That is the first step. I expect we see Tim working constantly to improve himself as a person. To be worthy of Lucy again. He's not going to half ass his healing. He is going to be very Tim in how he goes after it. This is going to bleed into every part of his life. I expect to see that all over his character development in s7.

I also anticipate that we'll see an even stronger and more refined version of Chenford in Season 7, with their characters continuing to grow and evolve. Strong separately and even more so together. I cannot wait for the slow burn of their reconciliation. Going to make all the hurt worth it. It'll be Chenford 2.0 and we are all going to be grateful for that. While losing our minds together it's happening. I would rather have our ship and characters be real and develop. Better that than to be puddle deep like John/Bailey. I'll take the pain of growth over the stagnation of boredom. i.e. Bailian.

Predictions-Obviously I want to predict something like above. Them starting over. Kisses, hugs, and if we're lucky enough to get a repeat of 5x12 on screen. That one I'm straight just trying to manifest lol Possibly Celina catching them or almost doing so when they get back together at her place. These are more hopeful than actual predictions lmao But I mainly predict a deeper intimacy between them when they do reconcile. Stronger communication. It'll be beautiful. I also think we're about to see a side of Tim Bradford we haven't seen before. As we know Lucy brings out the best in this man. The absolute best. We're going to see that on full display.

I think he will continue therapy. I also think we’re going to see a very determined Tim driven in his quest to make amends to Lucy. Which will bring out that new side we haven't seen. It's one of the facets of s7 that has me most excited. And not just for the Chenford portion. (Which does make me giddy to no end) But for him as well. You follow me long enough you'll know I love Tim development. So this excites me so very much.

We watched Tim take strides in his mental health walk and as a person in s6 after 6x07. I expect we're going to see the fruit of that not just in his amends to Lucy. But professionally as well. Tim took quite the fall professionally after being bounced out of Metro. He has fences to mend to Grey, Lt. Pine, and those around him as well in patrol. I see him making those strides and then some.

I predict Lucy is going to finally going to get grounded professionally and personally. (She does have a new roommate. I can see development here too) Lucy got very lost in s6. I think s7 she will be righting her ship. Finding her purpose. My guess was T.O. for her with her dipping her toe with Celina in 6x08. She's so empathetic and willing to slow down and teach. I think that could be a good path for her. Whatever her trajectory is I think it's going to be be worked out in s7 for our girl. It's time for her to get some damn wins. I hope that answers your ask LOL Or maybe was too much? HA Either way I can't wait for s7. I need a promo and a premiere date. Seriously ABC, you're killing us.

#chenford #the rookie #s7 #asked and answered #moderatelydelusional #tim x lucy #otp: doing my job #otp: unless it is #the rookie s7 #tim bradford #lucy chen #tim bradford x lucy chen

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epicbuddieficrecs · 5 months ago

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Weekly Recap | June 3rd-23rd 2024 ~ Podfics

Had to split the fic rec cause Tumblr couldn't handle how long it was 😅

Podfic

[Podfic] i want your midnights by Cass_Caelis/ @cassiopeiacaelis for heartbeatdiaz/ @loserdiaz (New Years Eve, First Kiss | 10-20min | Teen): Buck wasn't expecting his exes to show up at the New Year's party and he certainly wasn't expecting all of them wanting to kiss him at midnight. He only has one person in mind that he actually wants to kiss.

[podfic] trade amber clay roads for the sea foam by Matriaya // fic by @hattalove (Post-S5 | 10-20min | Teen): “It’s the thirty-seventh couch you’ve looked at today,” Eddie finally replies, trying to ignore the headache settling into his temples. “And I'm gonna guess there's something wrong with—what, the headrest?” Buck blinks at him. “It's the feet,” he mumbles, his gaze falling to the floor. “They're weirdly shaped.” in which buck is finally ready to buy a couch, except he doesn't seem to actually want one.

we made these memories for ourselves by half_bakedboy [Podfic] by Rhea314 (Rhea)/ @rhea314 // fic by half_bakedboy / @half-bakedboy (Love Confession, Chris&Buck | 10-20min | General): Buck (accidentally) starts a baby box for Christopher and Eddie finds out.

🔥 [podfic] the sound of love astounds me by All_I_Ask/ @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove for fleetinghearts/ @shitouttabuck (Getting Together | 10-20min | Teen): “All the more reason to sleep,” Eddie presses. Buck looks at him, blinking tiredly. “Okay,” he says, suddenly amenable, rounding the couch and climbing onto it. He drapes himself across it, settling on his back and shoving his head into Eddie’s lap with a contented sigh. Eddie sits frozen, book in one hand and the other hovering over Buck’s chest. or, there’s not a lot eddie wouldn’t do for buck

🔥 [podfic] share this hour of make-believe by All_I_Ask/ @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove for fleetinghearts/ @shitouttabuck (Quarantine, Getting Together | 10-20min | General): or, quarantine finds eddie sharing a bed with a pillow-thief and sleep-talker. he minds less than he thinks.

🔥 [Podfic] you knew the password (so I let you in the door) by RhetoricalQuestions/ @rhetoricalk // fic by lilythesilly / @lilythesilly (Post-S2 | 20-30min | General): “Last year,” he starts again, “We had this really rough call and Bobby—well, Hen and I went to check on him. We didn’t break down the door or anything because Hen had a key to his apartment.” His throat clicks when he swallows. “Said that they had keys to each other’s places in case one of them couldn’t make it home. And I don’t know I—it sounded nice. To have someone looking out for you like that. Just in case.” Eddie seems to come to a decision about something, because he nods once before pulling a key off of his own keyring and handing it to Buck. “Sounds nice to me too.” Or, Buck gives Eddie a key to his loft.

[podfic] but it feels like a fortress when the weather gets bad by TheBoyWhoWalksInTheLight/ @aro-of-artemis (Post-3x15: Eddie Begins | 20-30min | Teen): Turning his face to the side, his eyes landed on the collection of house keys that sat in a bowl on his counter. A key for his apartment, one for Maddie’s, the key to his Jeep and one for Eddie’s front door. Eddie had given it to him one day as though it were the simplest decision in the world. “Y’know. In case you ever need to watch Chris or something. Or in case of emergency.” OR Buck has a nightmare about Eddie dying, but he also has a key to Eddie's house.

🔥 Relationship Advice from Complete Strangers Online by HMSLusitania [Podfic] by Rhea314 (Rhea)/ @rhea314 // fic by @hmslusitania (Getting Together | 20-30min | Teen): When he gets home for the night, Buck turns to the one source of information that’s never let him down: the internet. But where does one go for relationship advice from complete strangers online? Which is how, ten minutes later, he finds himself on Reddit with a shiny new account and username. It takes him a while after that to craft his question for r/Relationships, but he thinks he’s got it pretty accurately conveyed before he hits post.

🔥 [PODFIC] Into the Unknown by TheyReadWhatWeSow (TheyReapWhatWeSow) // fic by benjaminrussell (Canon Divergent, S4 | 30-45min | Teen): Buck is cursed. Cursed to have visions of the future but for no one to believe him. Over the years he’s got used to working around it, until one day, the 118 gets a new firefighter who believes him without question. Okay, Eddie does have some questions, but he believes Buck, and that’s the important thing. But then Buck wakes to a vision of Eddie getting shot. Will he able to prevent his vision from coming true or is he destined to lose the one person who believes him?

🔥 [podfic] I Opened My Eyes and There You Were by All_I_Ask / @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove (Post-S3, Getting Together | 30-45min | Explicit): In which Buck provides the dots and Eddie finally connects them.

🔥 [podfic] i have dreams where i kiss you and it’s pink by All_I_Ask/ @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove for fleetinghearts/ @shitouttabuck (Getting Together, Fluff | 45-60min | Teen): or, jee-yun buckley-han's third birthday party is in dire need of some fairy tale magic and buck's attempt to save the day might just be the thing that finally kills eddie

[podfic] fall right into me by Matriaya // fic by therainbowsedge / @therainbowsedge (PWP | 45-60min | Explicit): They plan the evening on a Tuesday afternoon while on their way back to the station from a call. “Wait.” Buck waves his hand in the air to pause the conversation. “You’ve never smoked weed?” “I’m a firefighter,” Eddie says like that’s an answer to Buck’s question. OR: Buddie gets high.

🔥 The Red Means I Love You by EtoileGarden [Podfic] by Rhea314 (Rhea)/ @rhea314 // fic by @etoilegarden (Post-S4, Angst | 2-2.5h | Mature): How stupid was it that a song that freaked him out so badly was still catchy enough that his brain decided to just play it on random repeat? He held it together for long enough to set the washing machine, to press start, to stumble upstairs to his bed, to lie down. For weeks and weeks after Eddie had been shot, Buck kept dreaming of different endings to the scene. Most of them involving Eddie just dying right there on the tarmac, just out of Buck’s reach. Buck trying to hold him together in the back of the engine even though Eddie was already gone. Buck begging him to stay, to stay, to hold on, please hold on, and Eddie letting go. ~ Eddie's left the 118 and Buck is definitely coping with that.

🔥 [Podfic] listen to you breathing (is where I wanna be) by Itty_Bitty_Blondie/ @itty-bitty-blondie // fic by Yavilee/ @theladyyavilee (Major Character Injury, Angst, Getting Together | 4-4.5h | Teen): The thing is – and Eddie should have known this, has been taught this cruel lesson over and over and over again – the thing is most of the time the worst day of your life will start like just any other day. A million small moments, so familiar and mundane you almost don’t even notice them slipping by - until you would give anything to go back and get just one more. (You can’t.) - Or the one where Buck is presumed dead after a building collapse and Eddie has to live through the reminder that tomorrow isn't promised to anyone

#buddie #buddie podfic #buddie fanfiction #buddie fic rec #buddie fanfic #buddie fic #epic buddie fic rec

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concretevampire · 2 years ago

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Early Morning Breeze

arthur morgan x f!reader ꔫ 9.7k ꔫ emotionally fueled smut, icky gooey lovey-dovey stuff for thou // based off of the Dolly Parton song // religious themes

A/N: this is my first rdr2 fic & my first post on tumblr & english is not my first language so critique is highly encouraged

You sniffle, forearm coming up to wipe away stinging tears clinging to lashes.

A rough exhale escapes your lips, and you can feel the sweeping glance Abigail sends you. Sniffling again, you press the heel of your palm to an eye, the other shut just as tight.

“Guess a couple’a vegetables is all it takes to get you cryin’,” she jokes, cleaver slicing off the head of a trout; her apron stanches the briny blood, scales scattered across her forearms like small slivers of moonlight.

“Onions,” is all you can muster as you finally allow yourself to turn away from the cutting board. You turn your face upward, cracking reddened eyes open to peer at the sky.

Big clouds– white, ozonated mountains beyond imaginable reach– float by lazily.

Another sniffle escapes you, but the dam of your eyes has been rebuilt, and the tears secede. Your sinuses still burn though, sending a horrible ache to the back of your throat.

Swallowing, you return to chopping onions.

Other than Abigail’s humming and the incessant clucking of hens in the distance (Grimshaw and chickens alike), the camp is quiet.

Shady Belle is certainly an improvement to dirt-ridden tent floors and crickets in your pillow, but it’s rather gloomy at times. You’re sure that it’s simply the haze of Bayou Nwa and the spectral creeping of ivy along chipping, gray paint. But it would be foolish, and most of all, naive, to ignore the simmering discomfort lingering under everyone’s skin.

Kieran’s death. Jack’s kidnapping. Dutch’s… nerves, if you were to give it a name.

Arthur feels it, and so do Abigail and Hosea, but all four of you are unwilling to mention his waning psyche for fear that it’ll only darken the already half-lit moon of his mind. It isn’t worth it.

And frankly, Arthur’s loyalty to Dutch is suicidal.

He will hem and haw, but in the end, orders are followed with abandon. Loyal to a fault, you tell him. It’s all I know, he says back, gently smiling as if an inside joke has been said. This ol’ dog can’t learn new tricks, and he’ll chuckle wryly at the quip, head shaking like the sins of the world have been settled and folded into the intestines of his mind.

You can only let him wallow for so long when he gets like that.

Though you’ve learned (after too many years as friends and a few more years as something quaintly more) how to put an end to it: a routine. Artfully mastered, a precariously balanced act that includes a succinct scold paired with a slap to his shoulder before pressing a soothing kiss to his cheek as he grovels over his journal like an overgrown child.

But another layer to the quiet and unease around camp is unarguably Micah's presence. Filthy, bastard leech of a man. Suckling away at Dutch’s good faith.

The fifth horseman of the apocalypse: treachery.

The way he saunters about is simply nauseating— skinny fingers pricking and prying into people’s souls. And he’s always been particularly taken with you. Disappointingly.

Micah finds sheer amusement in laying out your arteries on cork board, needles stabbing; displaying your heart like a prize butterfly, blood glittering like topaz stained glass.

It was simply infatuation at first, back all those months ago.

A game he had played with many women before and one you brushed aside easily. And then he discovered that you and Arthur were something— and Micah became a true savage, fueled by both contempt and his peculiar fascination with having taken women.

Even now as he makes his rounds with the gang, purposefully adding to the gloom, his eyes linger on your figure.

Micah veers closer, and you take a step towards Abigail. Her shoulders straighten, so do yours– a useless attempt to create some sort of fortress. He’s approaching in your peripheral and Abigail slams her cleaver down onto another trout, a singular clawed scale landing on your blouse.

You’ve moved from onions onto potatoes, your knife cutting away skin in precise shallow strokes.

When he’s close, Micah says your name– a horrible rasp of letters strung together by cigar smoke and glowing ash– the depths of hell holed up in his esophagus. You ignore him. And in turn he grins wildly, as if presented with riches beyond King Midas’ imagination. Your jaw clenches, eyes set on the knife and the naked, golden flesh in your palm.

“How’s Morgan’s broodmare?”

Abigail side eyes him. Your next slice is thicker than the last, heavy handed, taking off more flesh than you’d like. A waste.

“Or has he moved on after all these years? Got tired of the same fuck.”

You set the nude potato aside, picking up a new one. You imagine it’s Micah’s prick: dirt ridden and calloused. You begin to skin it too, taking extra care to needle out any dark spots.

“Been awhile since he’s been back in camp too. Makes you wonder.”

“Oh piss off, Micah,” Abigail hisses, her cleaver resting threateningly against the dark wood of the table. A sharp, glaring warning.

His smile widens.

He shifts his stance, shoulders slackening as his thumbs hook on the flap of his pockets. “Hit too close to home? Remind you too much of Johnny and how he ran off?”

“Micah,” you finally interrupt, picking up a new potato. “Shut up.”

“So that’s how I get you to talk.”

You stay silent, returning your attention to vegetables and other honeyed daydreams of skinning the Devil alive.

“Ignoring me again.” His eyes linger, thinking of horrifically creative ways to dissect and tear you apart as you stand. “Wouldn’t you be worried though? He’s been gone for a week.” The statement is mocking and cruel.

He wouldn’t know what concern was if it ate his face off, ravaged his eyeballs and devoured his tongue.

Abigail glowers, this time pointing the cleaver at Micah. “Yer just jealous.”

Micah sneers, the cylinder in his revolver shaking off a warning like a rattlesnake curling up to bite. “Jealous of what Miss Roberts?”

“Jealous she ain’t with you.”

Micah opens his mouth to retort something evil and violent, obvious in the way his pupils have contracted, gray eyes gone silver with wrath. You stab the knife into the cutting board, punctuating the air.

Both of them have stilled, turning towards you.

“Quit it.” You snarl. Abigail gives an apologetic look, but not before sending Micah another scowl. She’s back to chopping off fish heads.

And Micah, damn him, always needing the last word spits out a, “Bet he got himself killed,” before he rushes away, seething and gnashing his teeth.

It’s quiet again.

You get through six more potatoes before speaking. “You didn’t have to do that.” It’s a gentle chide towards Abigail, one that makes her huff.

“I just hate how he talks to us. ‘Specially you. And I hate how you don’t do anything.” Her hands wring together harshly, not having any more trouts to dismember.

“It’s best to ignore him. He gets off on it, the sick freak.” You keep your gaze fixed on your work.

Abigail relents, fingers stilling momentarily.

Her gaze rises, eyes trained on Jack’s small silhouette at the far edge of camp, playing in the weeds and brambles. He seems completely ignorant to such plights. What bliss.

Abigail’s raised him well.

“Ain’t ya worried though?” She says suddenly, spinning to look at you. You pause your ministrations, glancing into her perturbed blue eyes. “I mean,, well, Micah had a point, I guess.” She’s annoyed at the admittance, even if it is her own. “Arthur’s been gone for a while. It ain’t like him.”

You sigh. “It is like him,” your teeth chew at the flesh of your cheek, “but you’re right. He wouldn’t leave for a week without saying something.”

Abigail nods but her fingers have knotted and tangled once again. “Hunting trip?”

“Yeah, but with how long he’s been gone you’d think he’s trying to take down an entire herd of angry caribou in heat.”

She snorts. “He would try. Strong enough for it.”

“Bullheaded, that’s what he is.” And you scowl, starting to dice the potatoes far too quickly; bound to cut yourself. Abigail sends you a sympathetic, knowing smile.

“So you are worried.”

“Whatd’ya mean?”

“I mean you ain’t as calm and cool as yer pretendin’ to be.”

You continue chopping away, somehow not having cut yourself. Years of practice you suppose.

“Course I’m not. I’m always worried when it comes to him.”

Abigail snorts. “Well, ya never act like it.”

“Because if I act like it,” and you finish dicing off the last potato, ‘then that means something bad would actually be happening’, “then who would you have to talk to when you’re worrying?” And you give a knowing smirk.

She laughs, shaking her head, hands coming to a rest. You feel your own face brighten to a smile.

That’s the way it is with her; with all the girls. Quilted conversations complaining about men and life and backaches all riddled with coy smiles.

The breeze picks up then, and Jack comes tumbling along it, hands rusted with the red Lemoyne dirt and beaming at his mother like a little sun; too bright; seen without looking.

His eyes barely peek over the table, but he’s determined, placing a bundle of messy daisies next to dismembered fish, yet to be fileted.

“For you Mama,” he adds with his gift, hands clutching the edge of the table to watch her. And Abigail smiles tenderly, picking the flowers up. They drip, raw with dew and fish blood. She tries, ever so delicately, to wipe away the crimson stain on their petals.

“Thank you kindly, Jack,” she says. And he gives a toothy grin and runs off— on the breeze once again. Abigail ponders the daisies for a moment before offering you one with a teasing smile. “M,lady,” she jests, giving a sloppy curtsy. A true country princess. You snort, but fawn delighted shock, pricking the flower from her nimble fingers.

“Oh how romantic,” you add, putting a hand to your chest. Pocketing the daisy, Abigail does the same with hers, now fully smiling.

And with a few giggled words you separate; the chores around camp looming as Grimshaw’s eyes sharpen into blades, her tongue preparing to tear you both apart.

You help Tilly with the laundry.

Karen and you care for spare guns.

Under the shade, you patch up holes in socks and shirts and handkerchiefs all while Mary-Beth tells you about her new book— a romance, of course— about an outlaw and upper class woman finding love.

It makes you snort.

Amusement brewing in agitated, annoyed swirls in your chest as you’re reminded of Mary.

You’re too smart to be reading those kinds of things, you tell her, needle pricking your finger as you push it into the cotton of Dutch’s union suit. She shrugs; tells you she likes it.

You don’t blame her. You used to too.

And the sun has begun to set, casting long shadows on long faces after a long day. And people begin returning.

Javier and Bill from a home robbery.

Lenny with a wagon of purchases from Saint Denis.

John and Sadie each with a few rabbits in hand.

But no Arthur.

It’s a bit disheartening. Like a sunshower with no rainbow. What’s the point of the rain then?

You’ve grown anxious, your hands fussing the linen of your apron though there’s nothing to wipe away. And you don’t have the stomach to eat or the heart to make conversation— so as the gang begins settling in for the night you grab a basket, your revolver, and leave.

Charle’s, keeping watch, eyes you like a ladybug in winter, but keeps quiet.

You thank him with a glance.

And you’re not stupid. You know it’s dangerous in Bayou Nwa— whether it be under God’s sun or the Devil’s moon— crawling with bipedal predators and freaks of nature beyond comprehensible understanding. Arthur has warned you. Don’t you go out, firm words with even firmer hands on your shoulders. Not without me.

But you go.

You need to, if only to catch your breath; to steel yourself away from prying eyes if he doesn’t show up for yet another week.

And in the tall, marsh grass and bundles of cattails you’ve found something quiet and private; a place where you can crouch and pick away at plants with a frown you don’t have to hide.

And your fingers are shaky and uncalculated as you rip apart the oleander and sage, like a newborn colt, teetering across grass. You shove the foliage into your basket as if it took Arthur away personally. As if they’ve laced their way into his veins, choking and drying him out.

You’re upset, but you won’t cry, obviously. There’s no reason to, it’s hysterical and ridiculous, but you’re frustrated.

Because even if Arthur is painfully terrible at communicating, he at least has always told you how long he’d be gone for.

It’s a luxury you’ve gotten used to. And out of all the silks, jewels, and luxurious baths the world offers, it is your favorite.

The promise of his return.

“Yer mutterin’.”

The voice would’ve made you jump if it weren’t for the far too familiar rumble of it. Too often has it soothed you and brought you to climax for it to scare anymore.

You look at Arthur over your shoulder, glaring. “I do not mutter.”

“Sure ya do,” he says, stepping over a log to reach you.

His horse stands in the distance behind him, grazing and chuffing indignantly at the occasional alligator. Flighty things, horses are. Arthur’s is braver than most.

You turn back around before said man reaches you, hands resuming to the ripping and the pulling and the tearing.

“I told ya not to come out here without me,” he’s standing right behind you now.

“I know,” you grunt. And it’s quiet— heavy under the screeching of crickets and cicadas— until Arthur sidles his shins up to your skirts and places his hands on your shoulders, leaning.

“Yer mad.”

“I am not mad.”

“Sure ya are.”

“I am not,” and you look up, seeing him gaze out into the bayou with a gentle smile. “I’m annoyed,” you correct.

“Did Reverend chat ya up again?” And he chuckles, stepping aside to finally crouch beside you.

His knee brushes against yours, a touch starved way of saying hello. Under the golden sky, his blue eyes have filtered into grays and greens, seafoam and jade alike.

He looks tired but that pleasant smile is still there; too happy with your presence to be bothered by such ridiculous notions as the human need for sleep. And as much as you’d love to sooth the eyebags away, you continue frowning.

“You may be surprised to learn that Reverend was astonishingly quiet. For a week.” You add the last part roughly, hoping Arthur gets the message.

For a second, you think he doesn’t.

But then his hand raises, the pad of his thumb passing over the furrow of your brow. Achingly attempting to pacify you. To tell you he’s sorry.

“What’d I do this time?” And his voice rumbles over the question, soft and sweet, a tone he takes only with you. You sigh, turning back to the plants.

His hand retracts as you pick away at the leaves, but his eyes are heavy on your face, as if he trying to kiss you with just his gaze.

You’re sure he wishes.

“I just don’t like when you leave like that without telling me, or anybody really,” you say. And with Arthur, you always keep things succinct and out in the open because lord knows he won’t read between the lines.

He’s not like you, where you can tell he’s in a bad mood just by the way he drinks his coffee in the morning.

And Arthur takes a deep inhale, and then an exhale. “Yeah, I know.”

You look up, raising a brow.

“Sorry,” he coughs and you know it’s the most you’ll get out of him. It’s always that way with Arthur. Hands-on approach. Not much in the way with words.

The only way he failed Hosea.

“Abigail was worried too,” you add absentmindedly, finally letting yourself dawdle a bit now that he’s by your side again.

Arthur scoffs. “She’s always worryin’ about somethin’. Jack, John, you, me.”

You can’t argue with that, but you can’t blame Abigail either because you worry too. You just hide it better.

And you look up, less angry this time.

He left with a stubble and has returned with a beard. And though you’re sure his hair hasn’t grown much in a week, you notice the way the sandy blond locks brush against his shoulders— like golden willow on blue hills.

Finally, you acquiesce.

Your own hand raises, reaching out. And before you can even touch him, his fingers brush against the skin of your forearm. Ferns to sunshine.

You meet his cheek, wiping away at a smudge of dirt before tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear and hat.

“Your hair’s gotten long.”

Arthur looks amused, leaning into your palm not unlike the way a puppy does.

“Want me to cut it?”

You shrug. “That’s up to you. But at least take care of this.” And now both hands are on his cheeks, rubbing childishly over his beard. You beam at the way his nose crinkles.

“Wha’ I thought you liked my beard?”

“Not when it’s this long. You’d give me a rash every time you kiss me.”

Arthur smiles, dropping his head to laugh quietly.

And you stand, hand reaching to pick up your basket, but Arthur already has it in his grip, rising too.

“Oleander. Sage.” He notes expertly. You hum. “Tryin’ to poison someone?” He asks.

“You,” is your easy reply as you step away from him and to his horse. He follows in a pavlovian fashion, well trained.

“That mad about me leavin’ huh?” Long strides quickly bring him to you, arm brushing against shoulder.

“I wasn’t mad. I was annoyed,” you correct once again.

Arthur makes an entertained sound as he grabs for his horse’s reins. You finally notice all the carcasses strapped to the poor creature. A doe, a fine pelt, geese and rabbits hooked here and there. “Ya missed me?” He teases.

And before you can snort and tell him off, he leans down to kiss you. His hand cups the back of your neck gingerly; giving you all the ability to pull away if you’d like.

But you don’t. You never would.

Instead, your eyes slip closed as Arthur presses further. His lips are uncomfortably chapped, dried from the days on the road but so incessant in their need to feel you that you wouldn’t dare tell him to stop.

Instead your hand rises to hold his wrist loosely, a move that’s always made him melt for one reason another.

Then just as quickly, he pulls away, brushing his nose against yours.

“I missed ya.” And he breathes in as you breathe out.

“Me too,” You admit, though it’s not a secret. He knows. His favorite little luxury it is; the promise you’ll be there, awaiting his return.

Hasn’t gone a day without it since meeting you.

Admittedly, 1891 was a bad year to meet Arthur. Grieving, and angry; Eliza and Isaac freshly dead.

But you were there, picked up by Dutch, almost like a feral animal. Rabid enough to shut down Arthur’s (correction: everyone’s) bullshit immediately, yet organically compassionate to soothe him through bad nights. Even when you barely knew each other.

That was you.

Strained it all was at first. Funny, what time can do to two people.

Unraveling knots and kinks to smoothly twist two lives together.

And you watch as Arthur starts walking, not bothering to clamber onto his mount— even if the exhaustion in his step is obvious, like meatpie in a patisserie.

“You’re not gonna ride?”

He pauses and shakes his head, turning to look back at you.

“Personally? ‘M tryna get as much time alone before we have to be surrounded by fools and degenerates.”

You snort, strolling over to his side. “So what kept you away for a week?”

The back of his hand brushes against yours as you both begin walking.

“Heard about a wolf in Cotorra Springs. Wanted to check it out and well,” he eyes the pelt. “ Didn’t think it’d take me that long to hunt her down, but she was sneaky.”

He shrugs. “The rest of this I got on the way home, knowing how Pearson’ll be if I don’t come back with somethin’.”

You nod knowing how the man can get. Feisty about food, placid about most everything else. Sometimes he reminds you of a bear going into hibernation, and you doodle it on scraps of paper— messy, untrained caricatures of the gang.

They make Arthur laugh.

“Me and Abigail joked about you hunting caribou in heat. Not to give you ideas.”

Arthur flicks a brow. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“You would if there was money in it.”

“Is there?”

“I’ll say no for my own sake.”

Arthur laughs at that, and you grin, his joy infectious. A bad disease you’re willing to catch.

“So what have you been up to then, if not grumblin’ and mumblin’?” Arthur asks, eyes sweeping your frame.

“Cooking. Cleaning. Sewing.” You shrug. Arthur frowns a smidge.

“You gotta get out more.”

“I wanted to go out to Saint Denis but I got caught up with Grimshaw, I guess.”

All he can do is press against you a bit closer. “I’ll go with you soon then.”

An incredulous look is sent. “No you’re not.”

And Arthur looks so genuinely offended you have to laugh.

“What do you mean I’m not?”

“You hate Saint Denis.”

“I know but-“

You lean your cheek into his bicep. “Thank you, but you don’t have to torture yourself for me.”

He pouts. “It ain’t torture.”

“Mhm, sure.”

Voices in the distance become louder, the echo of Molly’s gramophone and Uncle’s drunken singing coming to a crescendo— smashing and breaking the isolation in a gradual blunder.

And you pull away, taking the basket from Arthur’s hand as you do.

Charles greets as you approach, and you hand him the spoils of your anger-fueled gather with another silent thank you. He nods politely, in his own grateful way.

And as Arthur hitches his horse— cooing with all the affection in the world— you leave him, going up into your shared room.

You know he has to take care of a few things before you can really have him for yourself:

Talk to Dutch.

Contribute money and check the ledger.

Load the hunt’s catches into the kitchen.

Help with any last minute chores.

Say ‘hello’ and ‘how are you’ to Hosea, Jack and John; Abigail and Tilly; Sean if he’s in a good mood too.

So you sit. Passively reading and waiting as you lean against the bed’s headboard.

And half an hour later, Arthur pulls open the door and then shuts it tight. Like maybe if he held it closed for long enough, the walls would thicken then burst fantastically into a hot air balloon; sending you beyond reach of civilization.

Under the yellowed light of the lantern, he seems entirely exhausted; the slope of his shoulders dooming, his usually straight back hunched.

Ain’t no rest for the wicked, Arthur jokes at times.

He sits down on the bed. For awhile he’s like that; just sitting and staring at the white canvas of the wall. And his eyes are flicking back and forth, like he’s sketching whatever he’s seen in the past week on the molding wallpaper.

It’s strange when he gets like this.

It’s not that he’s sad or upset, just caught up in his head.

“You should get undressed,” you command gently, sliding off the bed as you undo the buttons of your blouse.

Arthur watches. You pause. And then you deadpan.

“Are you serious?” But he says nothing, and neither do you, not as you come to stand between his knees.

You take his hat off, shoving the worn leather jacket down his arms, and he rests his head against your collar bone, pressing impossibly close into the revealed skin there.

Like maybe, just maybe, this time your atoms will combine and he won’t have to leave your side ever again.

When you begin unbuttoning his shirt, his hands finesse to undo the clasps of your skirt and you have to momentarily brush him aside, slapping his hands like a toddler gone for the cookie jar.

“Hey,” he protests, blue eyes pleading. But the way they blink slowly and idly tells you everything.

“No. Sleep. We can do that tomorrow.”

Arthur groans but listens; hands dropping, head knocking against your chest. “A week,” he grumbles.

“And whose fault is that?”

He’s quiet as you work, up until he catches a look at the thin silver chain around your neck. His finger notches on the ring that’s hooked to it.

“I wish you would wear it,” he mumbles languidly.

“I can say the same thing,” and you glance at the gold band he keeps tucked away on the rope of his hat. “Maybe if things get better.”

“When,” he amends. “When they get better.”

“Sure.”

He glares, the lines of his face darkening. “Don’t be like that.“

“Arthur.” And you cup his face, kissing him quickly and quietly. “It’s late.”

He stares up at you, an odd mix between enamored and frustrated.

A huff then escapes his lips, and he unbuckles his belt as you finish with the last button of his shirt. Your hands toys with the hem momentarily as if gripping to the tendrils of his soul.

But you let go, and turn away.

Getting rid of your own clothes is quick work, but Arthur makes even quicker work of kicking his pants and boots away, collapsing onto the furs and blankets of the bed. And as insistent as he was, he’s out quicker than nightshade, his arousal forgotten.

You’re sure he’ll remember it in his dreams. It’s happened before.

And you dim the lantern, laying yourself next to him in your chemise. Even though his back is facing you, a half-hesitant hand runs through his hair.

He’ll need a wash tomorrow.

You’ll force him into it, chase him around with a bucket if you have to. But for now, you let him rest; let sleep capture him like a firefly cupped between two soft palms. Pleased, your cheek presses against his bare shoulder blade.

Obviously, you wake before him.

Already dressed before he can even become lucid enough to call for you, hand reaching out to grab your missing form. You bend down, press a hand to his forehead, and whisper for him to forget you in favor of his dreams.

His soft snores ensue. You drift away.

And today, like yesterday, is quiet. But it’s less gloomy, more of a peace that’s settled because, praise be, Micah is out for the morning. It is both surprising and delightful, and nobody takes it for granted.

And you drift around the manor and camp, helping with the odd chore, saying hello, sipping at coffee.

At some point you walk off, where the ground is more solid and less swamp to have a quick word with God in the early morning breeze.

He doesn’t reply though you knew he wouldn’t. Still, you hope he heard.

At your return, Grimshaw unloads a torrent of harsh words, quickly placing you on dishes duty. You accept it.

Mean spirited, but kind hearted, that one. Always has been. You don’t have the will to complain though— not since Arthur’s come back.

He pacifies you, Hosea has teased, a coy smile hidden by the brim of his hat. At first it was embarrassing, but soon you came to realize denying it is like looking for oranges in an apple orchard. Psychotic and pointless.

Abigail has said the same thing, John nodding along enthusiastically.

It’s annoying and the truth, and you have no energy to argue.

Arthur is still asleep by the time you’ve scrubbed both the cast iron and your skin raw. Unsurprisingly. You’ve seen him passed out for nineteen hours once.

You wish you had that ability, especially with how hot and sticky the Lemoyne air is; boiled molasses in your lungs. You would sleep the entire afternoon just to avoid it all.

But in the slowness of the day, and your boredom, you approach Dutch, reading as always.

“Anything interesting?” You ask, readjusting the basket of laundry at your hip. It’s a conversation you have often— ever since you’ve joined the gang your time to read has dwindled— being much more preoccupied with needles and guns and terrible men instead.

He hums, flipping a page. “A collection of essays done by Ralph Waldo Emerson. I presume you know him?”

You nod, stepping closer. “He wrote before the war. A Transcendentalist, wasn’t he?”

“Yes,” and Dutch smiles. He’s always told you that you’re too smart for your own good. Smarter than he deserves— than the gang deserves. But you never indulge in his compliments (at least not too much).

And you’ve never really been sure if they’re true.

He’s kind, though that may not be the word. Merciful. Insightful. And perhaps that has fueled the compassionate part in him.

But as of late it’s all been brought into question you suppose. His sanity. Whether or not he’s still the same old, reliable Dutch that he always has been.

But you brush it aside for now, letting yourself pretend it’s all normal and everything is okay. A happy family.

“Which essay are you reading?” And you lean against the doorframe, fixing your apron.

“Man the Reformer. Do you know it?”

“Only parts. I think. Care to read me some?” You tilt your head, tucking one ankle behind the other.

Refined with him, always, even with his penchant for savagery.

“For you, my dear? Anytime,” and his eyes scan the pages, flipping through to find a piece he likes. “Ah,” he says after a moment, knuckle tapping the paragraph. He clears his throat, then starts.

“Hence it happens that the whole interest of history lies in the fortunes of the poor. Knowledge, Virtue, Power are the victories of man over his necessities, his march to the dominion of the world. Every man ought to have this opportunity to conquer the world for himself. Only such persons interest us, Spartans, Romans, Saracens, English, Americans, who have stood in the jaws of need, and have by their own wit and might extricated themselves, and made man victorious.”

He turns away from the page, his face lilting towards yours. “Isn’t that lovely?” he asks you. “Just gorgeous, isn’t it?”

And Dutch, like most men, has a strange idea of what gorgeous is. Finding it in bloodied knuckles and revenge. In essays about man and power.

In hatred. In violence.

You’re unsure why you suddenly remember this— but when you were young, still attending school, you had read that Moses was not allowed to enter the Promised Land.

It had confused you. Hurt you even.

And when you had asked one of the nuns: Why? What was the reason? Why couldn’t he? What was the point if his fate was to die?

And you remember that nun, with reverent eyes and sad smile, told you:

“For freedom to be reached, the memory of subjugation has to die.”

And that is why Aaron, and Miriam had died as well. Zipporah too.

You stare at Dutch.

“Do you see yourself as Moses?” You ask. It’s a blurted question, not entirely thought through, and you’re embarrassed the moment the words leave your mouth.

Dutch stares back, his own dark eyes swirling with momentary surprise before he laughs, hitting his knee. Shoulders slacking, your own breathy chuckles escape as you watch.

“You’ve heard The Good Word?” he questions, almost shocked.

“Read it.”

“My, aren’t you full of surprises?”

“Are you calling me a sinner, Dutch Van Der Linde?”

He tilts his head, raising a brow. “Aren’t you?” It’s said as if it were common sense.

“Maybe I’m not a saint, but I don’t think I’m a sinner.”

Dutch hums, bouncing his knee. “You pray?”

“When I’m dying,” you tell him, half joking.

“And how often is that?”

“More than I’d like.”

Dutch doesn’t laugh, but a warm, hearty chuckle rumbles in his chest and he picks his book back up.

“Isn’t that the truth.”

Looking away, your eyes flick about the greenery outside his window. The chickens cluck incessantly, bouncing about like cotton ball clouds on grassy mountains.

You can make out the outline of Jack, bounding around a tree with a stick in hand, occasionally swiping the trunk. Abigail keeps a watchful eye.

And it’s all very domestic.

A little green rectangle of quiet love, framed by rotting wood and sin. It seems so far away, you can’t tell if it’s real. But you know for a fact it is, and it makes the deep, longing pain in your chest all the worse. It’s a dream really, one you think of often and one you and Arthur have only discussed either after sex or in the early morning— when everyone is still asleep and when things are a little imaginary.

When dreams rule the plain of existence.

Suddenly Hosea passes by the room. His gaze stabs through you, a knowing familiar look he’s sent over the past few months.

Like you’ve discovered a dirty secret.

And it seems you’ve both come to a conclusion you’re both equally unsure of. Same with Abigail. Same with Arthur, even if he denies it.

“I should get back to work,” you mumble, pushing yourself off the doorframe.

“Atta girl,” Dutch simpers, but you’ve already walked off, head full of fears and doubts and thoughts you know you’re not supposed to have.

Hanging laundry is one of the easier chores, one that eases the nerves. Gentle afternoon breeze, as humid as it is, drifts by, wafting the smell of soap and swamp water. Earthy and clean, rolled into a lavender clay.

Jack hovers around your skirts as you work, and you easily indulge him in poems, songs, and stories, all with a gentle smile.

He glances at the manor. “Uncle Arthur sure does sleep a lot.”

“He does, doesn’t he?”

“Where did Uncle Arthur go?”

Clipping a bedsheet to the line, your eyes gleam, turning to Jack. “He went beyond civilization” and you crouch down, making claws with your hands, a playful grin at your lips, “hunting wolves.”

Jack beams, grabbing at your hands, easing the claws. “I wanna hunt wolves!”

You laugh a little, pulling away and reaching for a pair of drawers in the basket.

“You’re still too small— they’d eat you up.”

Jack frowns. “No they wouldn’t.”

And you hide an amused grin with the back of your hand, thinking of John. After a moment, you nod. “You’re right. They wouldn’t eat you, you’re too skinny.”

“Hey!” And Jack pouts, tugging at your skirts. You finally laugh, dropping a hand to pat his head, fingers sifting through soft brown locks.

“I’m sorry. I wouldn’t let them eat you. None of us would.”

Jack seems appeased. “Do you think Uncle Arthur will take me next time?”

And not wanting to break his little heart, you say, “I think that’s something you have to ask him.”

And Jack seems to be somewhat miffed by the answer, reserving himself to sit by the laundry basket as he watches beetles and ants march along the dirt.

Little brown capped soldiers.

“Have you ever hunted wolves, Auntie?”

You hang up the drawers, humming. “No. But one time Uncle Hosea took me hunting for a bear.”

“A bear!?” And Jack crawls a bit closer. “I don’t remember that?”

“It was before you were born.” You add gently.

“Ohhh. Was it scary?”

“Well only at first. It tried to eat me, but Uncle Hosea wouldn’t let that happen.” Embarrassment bubbles at the memory. The way Arthur had laughed when you sulked, telling him and Hosea you would never hunt again.

Jack smiles. “Do you think Uncle Hosea will take me bear hunting?”

A downturned smile marrs your features. “I hope not.”

Jack complains at that, and you gently assert that bears are much worse than wolves, and they wouldn’t care how skinny he is.

And the moment is sweet and funny and utterly ruined when a horrible, rasping voice says,

“There she is.”

Micah’s back.

Setting your shoulders, you gently tell Jack to find his Ma. Tell her those stories I told you, murmured by his ear. And he scurries away, an excited smile on his face. Your full attention is then granted to the laundry basket and the sodden clothes inside.

Micah stands on the other side of the clothesline, watching you between the flaps of bedsheets and button ups. A fabric jail cell keeps you separated.

“Heard our workhorse is back, hm? Where is he?”

A sock is hung up, next a union suit.

“Oh, so you won’t even talk about your darlin’ Mr. Morgan with me?”

You’re running short on clothespins.

“You gettin’ tired of him?”

There’s still enough for now.

“Mr. Morgan, running off for days on end, only comes back to fuck his little mare good and then runs off again. Ain’t that just sad?”

You could use a new skirt maybe. You’ll head into Saint Denis tomorrow. For now though, another sock is hung.

“I could take care of ya, while he’s gone. He’ll never have to know.”

Two blouses are clipped on the clothesline and you’re officially out of pins.

“So, what d’ya think? Offer stands.”

You step away from the hanging laundry, your eyes meeting Micah’s. It startles him but turns him on just as quickly.

And then you walk away, to the manor in search of more pins. Micah doesn’t follow, though you feel his eyes burning holes into you, gaping pits of Tartarus on your skin.

You’re surprised to see Arthur leaning against the windowsill, cup of coffee in one hand, the other scratching away at his journal in long precise strokes; a wolf. And he’s trimmed his beard and hair, his skin clean.

Washed away of filth and stress.

An easy smile comes to him when he turns to see you— he downs the rest of his coffee, closes his journal, and steps over.

“Good afternoon,” you say.

“Afternoon,” and Arthur glances around for peeping eyes before kissing you chastely. “Thought we could go to Saint Denis today like ya wanted,” he offers.

You shake your head. “I can’t today; maybe tomorrow?”

He pulls away, looking bemused. “Always ‘tomorrow’ with you, woman.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “It’s too late to go to Saint Denis anyway.”

“We could rent a room.”

“I am not spending money on a bed I have here,” you chide.

He raises his head to look at the ceiling, hat tipping back slightly back as he does. A stiffness overcomes him, like a thousand rocks have settled into his stomach. “You always gotta make things difficult.”

“Shut up,” and you pat his chest, stepping around him to continue your search, “I’ll see you tonight.”

That seems to help him digest the rocks but he still grabs at your wrist, stopping you. And there’s a deep longing in Arthur’s eyes; lust and sorrow mixing to create something entirely desperate.

“I love ya,” he mumbles quietly.

And it’s not something you say often, never really finding the need to. You know. He knows. You’re on the same page.

But sometimes, you’ll indulge each other with those three little words.

And Arthur lightens when you smile and nod and tell him you love him too. It’s like he’s seen the ocean for the first time, eyes sparkling in wonderful adoration. So he lets you go, assured he has you no matter what.

Expectantly, you barely see eachother for the rest of the day, each preoccupied with your own tasks. Small glances are thrown, like pebbles against windows, but nothing more.

Not until night falls.

You’re sitting around the fire with Abigail, snorting over a not so appropriate story Karen is telling when you see him in the distance, past the embers, crawling back into the manor. Admittedly, it is late but not late enough for Arthur to call it a night.

Usually, he’d stay with the group– drink a bottle of beer and sing a tone deaf melody with Tilly and Javier. But not tonight. Tonight he’s waiting you out.

And so when Karen finishes her story, you give one last laugh and leave.

Arthur is sitting on the bed when you come in, writing something slowly; the clear mark of verbal constipation.

And the lantern is lit low, warm and golden like a dying star. He only looks up from the page when you close the door, his hand pausing. There’s a droll moment where you stare at him and he stares at you– the little lift of amusement curling your lips can’t be helped.

In a brisk moment, you’re standing between his knees; but this time it’s him who undresses you. And you let him take his time with the clasps and buttons, resting your palms on his shoulders.

“Jack asked me if I’d take him wolf huntin’,” Arthur mumbles, standing to kiss at the junction of your neck and jaw. In nothing but your chemise, it’s easy to feel the hard line of him press against your hip. “Did’ya put him up to that?”

You laugh, hands rising to undo his own shirt. “Maybe.”

A rough palm presses between your shoulder blades, the other cupping your cheek as he nudges you to tilt your head with his nose.

“Yer evil,” Arthur mutters into your skin, “making me be the one to say no to him.”

“Was he angry?”

“Nah,” Arthur sighs, knocking his hips with yours, “just said I’m no fun.”

And you slip his shirt off, revealing broad shoulders and firm muscle, laced and sewed with scratches and scars.

You run your hand down a particularly marred one at his ribs. Knife fight.

“Did he hurt your feelings?” You tease. The hand at your cheek drops, bundling the hem of your chemise up your thighs. And before you can poke his ego again, the hand dips, grazing against your bundle of nerves.

You sigh, leaning into him as he lazily dips a finger in and out, in and out.

“John looked like he was ‘bout to have a panic attack,” Arthur rasps right in your ear. “If I had said anythin’ other than no I think he woulda killed me.”

“Can’t have that,” you hum, and Arthur snorts.

“Ya need me around to fuck ya, is that it?”

Scoffing, you pull away. “You’re ridiculous.” Your chemise falls back over your thighs, covering the slick Arthur built up. And he gives a soothing smile, hands lifting yours to twine fingers together.

“Did I hurt yer feelin’s?” And though you’re frowning, you let Arthur guide you to the bed— let him push you down onto the mattress. At your silence he runs his lips across your face; kissing at your brow, your nose, cheeks and chin. “I didn’t mean any harm by it.”

Lifting himself on his forearms, he watches you. You’ve softened exponentially, pliant and willing under him.

Only him.

And the look on your face is so fond— too loving and so soft, that he feels as if you must be a figment of his imagination. A sick twisted trick his mind is playing to feel something.

But you’re here, breathing against him, and looking like a drop of sunshine under the lantern’s light.

He’s struck gold.

Bending down, Arthur kisses you and in turn you breathe him in, arms coming up to wrap around his neck. You roll your hips, and a groan verberates in his chest— the sound makes your bones rumble— the first sign of an avalanche.

He lifts the chemise once more and a knee comes up to sit between your exposed thighs. Arthur dips his hand again, this time spreading you open on two fingers.

The both of you have gotten very good at being quiet after so many years of barely any privacy; a tarp or tent at most; but in Shady Belle, bless the heavens above, you allow yourself little, quiet whimpers.

The gift of walls.

And Arthur feels himself pulse as he edges you on, fingers increasing in speed. His thumb brushes against that bundle of nerves again and you choke back a moan, hands gripping onto the sheets.

“Arthur,” you pant, eyes shining with adoration. And he pauses. You stir something in him, some sort of odd childlike devotion he hasn’t felt since he was in his early twenties.

Not since Mary.

And he remembers when you had first gotten together, back in ‘94, you had told him you wouldn’t ask him to stop loving Mary. I could never, ever do that to you. It’d be cruel and unfair of me, you had whispered.

And you knew he never would stop because that’s how first loves are. Permanent.

But maybe now, maybe in this moment— just like every other moment with you— he has stopped loving Mary. Perhaps not entirely, but he wouldn’t chase after her like he used to.

Not when he has you. Not when you beg his name.

And Arthur rises, lifting you up with him as he sits up against the headboard, huddling you into his lap. His skin is warm, as it usually is, and you can’t discern whether that’s just him or if the Lemoyne heat has to do with it too.

It’s overwhelming and you’ve barely gotten started.

Making a pathetic little noise in the back of your throat, you see the way it lights his eyes on fire, as if you hold the keys to enter the Gates of Hell. And it’s almost too easy for him to pull off your chemise, leaning forward to press his lips against yours.

He’s scarily and surprisingly gentle. Always has been. But tonight there’s an underlying torture in the way he bites at your bottom lip, then soothes it, admonishing his own efforts.

And Arthur, this sweet, sad man who has killed, murdered, and torn apart men from sanity has resorted to fluttering his fingers against your hips; as if you were a prized butterfly, ready to fly off at any second.

For one reason or another, it makes your heart ache.

Your own hands cup his stubbled jaw as you lean down, opening your mouth and letting his teeth gently collide with yours clumsily.

There’s another rumble in his chest when you kiss the corner his mouth, an apology for your gauche actions. And you can’t tell if it’s a breath or a moan, but you assume that it’s something good.

A quiet plea for you to continue. Don��t stop.

Because if you do Arthur’s sure he’ll sob in a pitiful, defeated way that would leave him rutting into the mattress.

To his relief, your thighs press against his hips all the more, and your chest meets his. One of his own hands slides up your side, and he moans into your mouth at the feeling of your skin against his palm.

Silk against stone. Soft where he is rough– ruined by bullets, knives and meaningless labor. And he decides then, he’ll preserve this. Preserve your warm humanity, if it’s the last thing he does.

And he is a fool, but he isn’t insolent. He knows you’ve seen and experienced things that would have him reeling with nausea.

You’re a woman, of course you have.

But if he can help it, he will keep you like this. Coy and kind. Too good for him and too good for what the world has to offer.

Arthur realizes he’d gotten engrossed in his worship when you pull away to look down at him, giving a shaky exhale. Running your fingers through his scalp, you let your hand settle at the back of his neck, peering at his face as if he were a saint.

Arthur can only stare back. Fervently and biblically.

He follows every unspoken order you give him with a ferocity bordering desperation that only stems from his complete adoration. And you’ll never know how or where it started and you won’t ask, in fear of an answer that that any other man could give you. But this outlaw, brute, grunt; this man of all men has become an angel under your gaze and touch.

It’s intoxicating.

For awhile this continues. The kissing– the petting and exploration. Whispered ‘I missed you’s’ brushed across your lips, neck, breasts. At some point, Arthur wraps his mouth around one of your nipples, and you stifle a whimper against his temple.

A hand pushes into the curve of your back, imploring and needy, making you keen. The other, brushes against your core unexpectedly and you almost yelp from the sudden contact. But he dips his fingers into you gingerly, restarting the ministrations from earlier.

You all but melt.

You’re panting into his neck, gripping onto him as he plays with you. It’s shameful how a week apart has ruined you so terribly.

You’re oversensitive and overstimulated.

When your breathing becomes more desperate (which happens quicker than you’d like) Arthur pulls away again. And he likes this game; the build up before breaking you. An annoyed sigh puffs out from your lips, and you find yourself grinding into his lap for some form of relief.

His trousers have become a hindrance.

Arthur’s leaning into your chest, eyes half-open and cheek pressed against the space between your breasts. His mouth is hot and open, panting as you grind further into him.

And though you can feel him twitching against you, it isn’t enough. He’ll need more than the dull pressure of your core. But for now, he lets your hips roll, watching brightly as your slick coats the seam of his pants.

“No more,” he suddenly rasps, the first words said in a long time. “Please, no more teasing.”

You ponder him for a moment, then nod.

The trousers are off in an instant.

And his skin against yours is a relieving sin. Hands on your hips, he rubs you against him— and all you can do is sit it out and watch with bated breath. Arthur, at the feeling, lets out a stilted, raspy whimper.

Before he can do more, you lower a hand, pumping him up and down, up and down; a choked sound catches in the back of his throat when you do.

He’s bigger than average, but not impressively so. The real volume of his size comes from his width, noting that your thumb and middle finger don’t and have never connected when you jerk him off.

And you do this for some time, listening to his gasps and mumbled moans, only stopping when he begins pulsing in your palm.

Arthur whines when you pull away, eyes gleaming almost angrily, and you have to smile at the hypocrisy of his behavior. He bites back a curse at the way you look at him, too entranced to be upset.

Then, pushing him flat onto the mattress and straddling his waist, you kiss him. His hands land on your back once more, begging to press you closer, further.

Wanting nothing more than to simply have you against him.

And finally, you slide onto his length.

It’s jarring at first, uncomfortable in the way it splits you open. And you feel his every millimeter and every movement. It takes a minute for your body to adjust, to realize it’s him. Arthur lets you wait it out, lets you take your time as you finally sink down completely.

He thrusts, once, shallow and uncertain, brows furrowed in concentration. And your eyes close shut with a gasp, squeezing your legs even tighter around his waist.

Then, you lift your hips off him and sit back down. And then you do it again. And again. And again.

The pace you’ve set is slow, but it allows you to further assimilate to the stretch. Furthermore, the friction is accumulative. You quickly find that Arthur’s hands have lifted to clasp around your own shaking ones in an act to sooth you.

To quell whatever ache has settled in your abdomen (for the time being).

And his eyes are shining with an indiscernible emotion as he watches you; something that makes you want to cry out of sheer wonder.

You’re so sure it’s love. It has to be. You refuse for anything else.

You refuse to be a broodmare or quick fuck.

And something must flip inside of Arthur because suddenly, he flips you two over, and moreover, he turns you over onto your stomach.

“Arthur,” you mutter, as you lift yourself up on your forearms. And he bends down pressing a kiss to the vertebrae in your neck as if they were jewels on a crown.

His hands return to your hips and bring you towards him.

“I know,” he replies. It only takes a second for him to slip into you again, letting a deep, pleasant groan out.

In this position he’s quicker, rougher. Less careful.

Arthur utters the occasional incoherent word and you can only pant in reply. After a while of this— of his hips slamming against yours— your shaking arms collapse under you, and your cheek presses into the mattress.

Arthur doesn’t stop though, nor does he slow, and the whole thing overloads your nerves.

Yet somehow, his touch is still loving— even as he takes you so harshly. It’s an odd dichotomy. You’re not quite sure he knows his own strength in this moment. Maybe he never does.

And you can’t help but be utterly grateful that this is the only way Arthur uses his strength on you. To fuck you into a mattress.

And the only noises you can make are broken little gasps for air, an entire lifetime’s worth of vocabulary forgotten. He’s moving in and out of you at a far quicker pace than you had initially anticipated; and you feel yourself begin to shake, quivering for help beneath him.

“Please,” you beg.

“Please, what?”

Your face flushes, hot and embarrassed even if you’ve done this hundreds of times before. “Arthur,” you whine, and he gets the message, quickening his pace as more broken, unintelligible syllables bumble out of your lips.

He brings one hand away from your hip to cup under your chin, lifting your face slightly so he can press his cheek against yours.

A loving act that tells you this is more than lust and cum.

Your hands claw into the mattress and his other hand leaves your hip to land on top of your own— fingers moving to curl into the spaces between yours. You’re crying now, sobbing quietly for some form of release at the absolutely brutal pace he’s set.

And you feel yourself coming close to climax, warmth pooling and subsequently dripping from your abdomen.

Arthur’s close too. You can tell by the way he twitches inside of you and by the way his groans have become hoarse and breathy.

He then removes the hand from your jaw and you sink back into the mattress, his fingers reaching for that bundle of nerves and rubbing it. You leave an open-mouthed whimper into the bedsheet, your breath and spit creating a hot and sticky spot.

Delicately, he pushes your body over the edge.

The orgasm rushes over you like a snap— quicker than lighting but drawn out like thunder. It singes and quakes as you quiver around him, moaning dumbly and begging for some form of sanity. Your back, arching, pushes him further into you, ignorant of your own overstimulation.

Arthur’s grip is tight on your hips as he watches, having to stop himself from spilling into you right then and there. He would.

He would if things were better. He would if he were stupid and ignorant.

But he holds himself back, teeth gnawing at his lip. Eventually you calm, the bedsheet loosening in your grip, leaving linen hills in your wake. And as soon as you take a quiet, deep breath, he continues to thrust just as quickly.

It’s now his turn to gasp and whimper, and you’ve never heard him so desperate— properly crying as he presses his face into your neck.

Your own tears bead at your eyelashes as you let him use you, abandoning any and all self respect for yourself.

But it doesn’t last long, as he’s quick to follow you over the edge. His hips begin to stutter and you know it’s over.

Arthur pulls out, and you feel him throbbing against you as he cums into his hand. He’s practically collapsed on top of you as well, his body gone boneless and weak from the aftershock.

He’s still for some time, catching his breath and his mental faculties.

And you’re not sure how much time has passed until his lips press against your neck and shoulders gently; but you sigh quietly at the feeling, pleased and sated.

He reaches under your body, cupping your waist so he can roll the two of you over to lay on your sides. And Arthur curls himself around you protectively, like he could obstruct everything evil with the slope of his shoulders.

It’s quiet and peaceful, as the aftermath of sex usually is.

And each time he kisses your skin indolently, you press back into him— a silent message that you want to kiss back. He seems to understand.

After a while, he mumbles your name.

You don’t expect it, his usual preference for silence being the norm. But either way, you hum in reply, entirely lost in comfort and bliss.

“I’ll kill Micah.” It’s said so simply, like an everyday part of his itinerary. Cleaning, hunting, murder. Well, maybe it is then.

You don’t open your eyes though. This is not a new conversation, nor is it one you like.

“You heard him today I’m guessing.”

“When you were doin’ the laundry.”

You want to frown. “It’s fine.” Is all you can say.

“No it ain’t.”

You pull away from him a little. “I don’t wanna talk about him. Ever. He doesn’t matter.”

Arthur’s quiet again. But then he nods and closes the space you created.

“Okay.”

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan fanfiction #reader insert #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfiction #might get a part two

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xunolic · 1 month ago

Text

only time will tell pt.2 (l.sy)

pairing: sangyeon x blackfem!reader (more race neutral) | wc: 22.6k (for this part)

au(s): secret agents, exes/enemies to lovers | genre: action, angst, smut, rom-comish

summary: after a year and a half, you finally heard the name you didn't want to be mentioned again. lee sangyeon. now more than ever, however, it's a must for agents to stick together due to a list of hits from the resurgence of korea’s more dangerous syndicates.

warnings: lowercase intended. explicit language, mdni!! explicit sexual content, mainly plot filled, descriptions of violence/blood, mentions of alcohol, minor character death, arguments. let me know if any was missed!

part one (not my favorite)

a/n: hi! i'm back! tumblr is ass so there will be a continuation instead of it all being on one post! reminder, none of the characters reflect on them as an actual people as they are merely characters. the reader is technically race neutral as i didn't give any character features or physicality. also, i will say, read part one but this one is way better than the first one. i actually hate the first one, but it does show how i have grown as a writer. reblogs are highly appreciated! happy reading!

‘here we go again,’ you thought to yourself as you situated yourself beside jacob. it was the one night yz agency had to get along with everyone else. so there you sat, dress clinging to your body and stomach growling.

jacob heard it, laughing under his breath as he dug into his blazer pocket and pulled out a piece of candy. he looked over, handed it to you, and smiled as you popped the candy in your mouth.

“this fucking thing is taking forever,” you groaned, almost forgetting the dress you had on as you slumped in your seat. jacob nodded in agreement, leaning forward, his head hitting the table.

“how hard is it for someone to go on stage and talk? hell, i could even do it. i might do it…” jacob said, turning his head to look at you. you gave him a smile, patting his head.

“you sure could, buddy, do it.”

you pointed at the stage, wiggling your finger slightly so he could continue. jacob was about to say something, but eric came to sit beside the two of you. he plopped down in the seat, almost out of breath. your eyes shot to him, eyebrow-raising in confusion.

“how late am i?” he asked, trying to catch his breath. you looked at jacob, and a similar mischievous smirk was on his face.

“you missed it. dinner is over with," jacob said, shrugging his shoulders.

eric looked at him, eyes widening. “dinner’s over?” he whisper-yelled, almost in a panic. “i didn't eat all day.”

you were about to say something until your stomach rumbled. eric heard it loud and clear, squinting his eyes in your direction. “you fucking liars.”

you pouted, looking down at your stomach, and then at jacob. “what a buzzkill…”

you and jacob both heard your names as younghoon approached. younghoon didn't spare eric a glance as he asked the two of you, “how is tonight going?”

“where's the food? i came strictly for the food,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

“one of cre.ker’s bigger agents is late, and their boss stepped out, so we can't start until their ceo returns, and we're all settled. typical cre.ker though, always running on their time, never considerate for anyone else,” younghoon said, crossing his arms as he looked at the other ceo’s. “note how everyone is here except them.”

younghoon finally gave eric a stare and scoffed before walking away from the table.

“what did i do?” eric asked as he looked at you. you shook your head, fixing a strand of hair on his head.

“nothing, he's just the biggest cre.ker anti.”

claps were heard around the place as you brought your hand down from his head. you instinctively clapped along, looking at jacob as he nodded to the stage. you looked over, seeing it finally beginning. you almost cheered, knowing that the food portion was growing closer.

or so you thought… it felt as if speeches about the same damn thing continued to drag on. eric was close to falling asleep, and jacob was rubbing his eyes, trying to stay awake. it wasn't until it was cre.ker’s ceo's turn to speak. as he spoke, you felt yourself nodding off; that was until you heard a name you thought you didn't have to hear again.

lee sangyeon.

you remembered telling eric you didn't want to hear that name until your heart was ready, and eric obliged. it had been a year since you'd even said a thing about sangyeon, the thought of sangyeon, or even heard that name.

jacob and eric turned to you with wide eyes, jacob looking at you with more worry than anything. you mouthed that you were okay as you all turned to look at sangyeon's table. he waved to people, and the lady beside him shook his free hand, obviously proud of him.

you didn't hear exactly what he was mentioned for, but you listened to everyone clap as you stared at him. you couldn't take your eyes off of him. it seemed he’d gotten larger if that button-up was one to decide. his smile was as bright as you'd ever seen it, and his eyes– his eyes were on you. you jolted a little bit in shock, noticing his gaze as you quickly turned back around. you felt butterflies creep into your stomach, trying to keep them down as cre.ker’s ceo finally finished his speech.

the host of the banquet finally confirmed that the food would be served. each person chose the menu beforehand, as the servers came out with it; you couldn't have been happier. as you ate, you continued talking to the people around you, trying to wash down the gaze sangyeon had sent you. it wasn't long until the feeling was back as you heard a voice you didn't want to hear.

“hey eric, hey jacob,” you heard sangyeon say behind you. eric turned and smiled, waving before getting back to his meal. you didn't turn around, jacob instead turned and waved at his hyung, standing to give a hug. you kept your eyes on your food, hearing jacob and sangyeon spark a conversation. sangyeon introduced the lady he came with to jacob, her voice ringing out after his to introduce herself. “it really has been a while, hasn't it? a year, right?”

“yeah! oh wow, it's been so long," jacob exclaimed, sitting back in his seat. he stayed turned around, sending quick peeks to you. you glanced at both jacob and eric, excusing yourself from the table before brushing past sangyeon with your clutch.

you felt eyes on you as you walked to the bathroom. however, you didn't notice your boss's lingering stare as he narrowed his eyes at your dismissal.

you thought you were over him, you thought you did the right thing, but as they've said before, distance does make the heart grow fonder. it was almost like your mind forgot you'd called things off with him—you had broken up with him.

things should've gotten easier with time, but you don't think you could come to terms with that sort of thing right now. as you stood in that bathroom, feelings bubbling in your chest, you had to remind yourself why you did it.

“my career is important to me. this is my passion…” you spoke to yourself in the mirror, calming yourself down. you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, the exhale shakier than the inhale. you glanced at yourself in the mirror again, looking behind you and jumping a little. “jacob, what the hell?”

“what? i came to check on you. you’ve been gone for like ten minutes… you alright?”

“yeah, i’m fine.” you tried your hardest to sound convincing, but it came out in a timid whisper. jacob walked over to you, pulling you into a hug. “jacob, i thought i was over him… i could've sworn i was.”

“you saw him for the first time in a year. i don't expect you to forget how you felt, especially how you two broke up. i’d be hurting, too.”

“but it shouldn't make me feel like this, though, i broke up with him.” jacob pulled away from the hug, pulling the handkerchief from his pocket, patting the tears from your eyes, hoping not to ruin your makeup.

“it doesn't matter; you liked him a lot, right? that was rhetorical because literally everyone could tell,” he joked. “it was an unjust breakup, so you have the right to feel the way you do.”

as jacob pulled you back into a hug, a lady gasped in the background at jacob’s presence.

jacob turned around, shamelessly shooing the lady away, “can't you see i’m comforting my best friend?”

that pulled a laugh out of you that jacob grinned at.

little did either of you know, sangyeon had dismissed himself for a bit, sighing into the frigid air. eric sat beside him, patting his shoulder, a smile on his face.

“what's up?” eric asked, leaning back on his hands.

“i knew she’d be here, and i still feel sick to my stomach looking at her,” sangyeon confessed, rubbing his face with his palm.

eric let out a humorless laugh, looking up at the sky, “you have more to say; i know you do.”

“nothing i can say that'll be worth it, especially if i’m not talking to her.”

“do you still like her?”

“no.” he lied.

“oh? so you don't want to talk to her?”

“i don't know what i want, eric. all i know is i can't stand to look at her but can't keep my eyes off her.”

all eric could do was nod; the younger wasn’t the finest with words, especially since he had often been around you and sangyeon. the best he could do was sit and be some company. the two sat in a comfortable silence, staring into the night sky before eric's stomach growled again. eric's gaze shot to sangyeon, then to his stomach.

“i saw a dessert buffet in there. wanna go?” sangyeon chuckled, standing up and brushing himself off.

“please.”

sangyeon pulled eric up by his arm as he nodded towards the door. eric walked inside, leaving sangyeon, once again, with his thoughts for longer than he'd like. sangyeon let out a huff of breath before walking in a few minutes after eric had.

eric was the first one at the dessert bar, filling his plate up and whistling as he picked up his last pastry. he walked by the entrance as you and jacob returned from the bathroom. eric tilted his head, confused, “you were in the girl’s bathroom?”

“i’m gonna tell you like i told that lady in the bathroom, i was comforting her,” jacob said, snatching a mini cheesecake from eric’s plate and going to sit back down. you giggled, walking over to the dessert buffet, reaching for a plate, a hand coming down simultaneously to yours.

“oh, i’m sorry, i–" you began apologizing, stopping as you saw who it was. you both stood there, breathlessly gazing into each other's eyes. your heart felt like it was beating 10,000 times per second. you felt like you couldn't move, and the wave of emotion pooling from his eyes was unbearably hard to read. you wondered what yours looked like from his perspective.

“hi,” he hushed out.

you couldn't respond as you grabbed the plate and moved from him. the feelings threatened to spill over again, but you had to keep your composure. you filled your plate up silently, sending sangyeon one last look before starting your way back to the table.

you looked to your side and saw younghoon staring at you. he had to have seen the little interaction between you two because he didn't look too pleased. or did he?

you went back to the table, hearing everyone talk around you, some even getting up to dance a bit. eric was busy scarfing down his food to notice you'd come back. jacob reached over, stealing one of your mini cupcakes and stuffing it in his mouth before you could say anything to him.

“jacob… just go get your own dessert!”

“too much work,” jacob waved you off with his mouth full as he nodded towards the bar. “do you guys want a drink?”

“oh, so getting a drink isn't too much work?” you asked him.

he waved you off again, pointing at the bar, and you gave in.

and, oh, a drink you got. however, that one drink turned into many for you, and you had to be carried out to the car by jacob. eric acted as jacob's spotter, following loosely behind him as jacob stuffed you in the car. you mumbled something as younghoon came out afterward.

“is she alright?” younghoon asked as you pouted in the backseat. you reached for your seatbelt, struggling with it before trying your hardest to stab it into the buckle. jacob reached over, buckling it in for you before turning to his boss.

“well, if being drunk is alright? yes, she's fine,” jacob said, fixing your posture.

“he touched my hand,” you slurred out, holding up the hand sangyeon touched with a drunken smile. “i know he misses me.”

eric and jacob looked at each other for the second time that night as jacob nodded at you, “i'm happy for you, y/n, i think?”

eric chuckled, walked over, and patted your head gently, saying a quick goodbye to you and jacob. he bowed at younghoon and walked back into the building, fortunately not catching the scowl younghoon sent his way. younghoon turned back to you, arms crossed.

“i hope she isn't shitfaced tomorrow, she has a mission.”

“she does? i thought she called off yesterday?” jacob questioned.

“i don't recall.”

“i do. i was in the meeting with you two when she told you.”

“oh, well, i don't remember.”

“can't you just, i don't know, send someone else?” jacob asked, shutting your door.

“chaeyeon and sunwoo haven't had a mission in weeks. she's been on damn near every single mission for the past year, give her a break.”

younghoon looked at you through the car window before looking back at jacob, “the mission’s at 12 tomorrow. tell her to be up and ready. i'll send you the details later on.”

and with that, he left back inside.

jacob let out a deep groan, walking to the driver's side, getting in, and looking at you in the rearview mirror. he saw your slouched figure, sighing as he revved up the van and started to drive. as jacob drove, he couldn't help but hear little sniffles from you. once at a stop light, he turned around and looked at you, a frown on his face.

“i hate him. i fucking hate him,” you mumbled, tears slowly pooling down your face. jacob could only assume you meant sangyeon, but you'd heard everything younghoon had said before you left. younghoon had seen the interaction, and you felt younghoon was doing whatever he did to you out of spite.

your head was raging as your phone rang. you grabbed the device seeing jacob’s name, groaning before answering it. “what?”

“you got a mission; get up.”

“i know… but i don't feel like it.”

“dude, do you want both of us fired?”

kinda. “no.”

“then come on, i'm outside, i'll wait for you.”

you hung up the phone without saying another word as you dragged yourself out of bed. you went into the bathroom, threw clothes on with a groan, and held yourself up by the edge of the counter. you mumbled curses as you dug through your medicine cabinet to find some aspirin to take. you shook the borderline empty bottle, opening it as fast as your hungover body could. as you tapped out the medicine, only one pill came out, another loud groan that made your head ring.

“fuck,” you mumbled, taking the pill in your hand before hearing your phone ring again. you walked over, silencing the phone before grabbing some sunglasses, your phone, and a water bottle. you locked up your apartment, almost tripping down the complex stairs, making it to jacob's car in one piece.

“morning, sunshine,” jacob beamed as he watched you put the glasses on and get into the vehicle.

“shut the hell up before i beat your ass.”

“woah? can't even talk with my amazing friend this beautiful sunday morning?”

“please, just drive.”

jacob threw his hands up and pulled out of the parking lot.

you popped the pill, chugging the bottle of water before throwing it to your feet.

“and now you're littering in my car? what are you? some type of heathen?”

you kept your eyes closed, a slight smirk gracing your face.

as jacob pulled up to the back of the site where you were supposed to be working, he couldn’t help but notice a familiar face in a car pulling beside him.

“oh no…” he mumbled.

“what?”

“don't look now, but…”

“but what, jacob?” throughout the drive, yes, your head had gotten a bit better, but not enough for jacob and his games.

“a certain, uhm,” he continued, only moving his hands to enunciate.

“jacob, my head already hurts, i don't need any of your ridd–"

you couldn't finish your sentence because as soon as you looked at jacob's way, someone had stepped out of the car beside jacob’s. if your head was getting any better, no, it wasn't.

lee sangyeon.

you almost barfed, shaking your head as you blinked a few times to wisp him away as he walked to the front of his car, but to no avail. he was still there.

he turned around, his eyes catching your concealed ones through the windshield. your breath got caught in your lungs as you shook your head again, this time trying to convince jacob you couldn't do this.

“why.. why is he here?” you asked yourself. jacob looked at you, patting your shoulder as he tried to tell you that you had to do what you had to do. you frowned before taking a deep breath.

you stepped out of the car, eyes widening as you felt around your person. you bent down to look at jacob, who was still in the car, “my holster.”

“you forgot it?!”

“you know i'm hungover. i could've sworn i took it from my room.”

you were too in a panic to realize sangyeon had walked over to you, “i have an extra.”

you jumped, gripping your chest as your glasses fell to the bridge of your nose. the little sunlight that did peep through made you squint in pain. you pushed up the glasses, looked at sangyeon, and shook your head.

“can't take–"

“she’ll take it, hyung.”

your focus shot back to jacob as he shrugged, looking towards his monitor, “you both better go; you have 20 minutes until the man of the hour comes. i'm still not sure what this mission is actually…”

“you don't?!” you whisper-yelled, bending down again.

“bomb threat,” sangyeon said, his arms crossed.

“bomb threat?!” both you and jacob yelled.

“i'm not the bomb girl. i had one class on that, and i didn't pay any attention to it. fuck!” you groaned, your head starting to ache again.

“calm down, i know how to disarm a bomb.”

you looked at him, unable to look long because, of course, you couldn’t look at him. you sighed softly, taking the spare earpiece jacob had before telling jacob to wish you luck as you began to walk towards the building. you didn't wait for sangyeon but heard him yell wait. he rushed beside you, holding up the utility belt and handing it to you.

“here.”

you took the belt, standing before the door as you buckled it around your waist. sangyeon opened the door, holding it with his foot as you walked in without saying anything to him. sangyeon sighed softly, sucking his teeth before letting the door shut behind him.

“so.. what's the plan?” he asked, looking around the supposed storage room you were slightly cramped in.

you shrugged, put in your earpiece, and tested it out. you heard jacob speak back as you nodded to yourself. the shades you had on did no justice for the dark room you both were in. sangyeon asked you again what the plan was. however, you trudged through the storage room, trying your hardest not to trip.

too late.

obviously, you couldn't see the box in front of you and couldn't catch your footing in time. just to your luck, sangyeon’s quick thinking and his ability to see caught you before you hit the ground. as he pulled you up, you felt your back come flush to his chest. you smelled his cologne, felt the way he froze, and it took all your might to move away from him.

“thank you,” you mumbled, stepping over the box as you finally reached the door.

sangyeon held it shut as he looked down at you (you assumed). you squeezed your eyes closed, “what is it?”

“we need a plan. i don't know what you and eric have been doing the past year, but you know that's not how you and i did–"

“when jacob gives me the signal, you go for the bomb, i'll go for the man. simple.”

“jacob didn't even know what the mission was; how would he know what the man looks like? how do you even know its a man? i'll just ask miyeon–"

“is miyeon the lady you were with at the banquet last night?” you asked before you could stop yourself.

“why does it matter?” he asked, pressing a finger to his ear, beginning to speak to the woman. “hey miyeon, how far is our target?”

you waited for him to respond, still looking at the closed door. you heard jacob in your ear saying you had 15 minutes before you decided to look up at what you believed was sangyeon.

“jacob said we have–“

“15 minutes.” you both said simultaneously.

“and you said jacob doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” you mumbled under your breath.

“what was that?”

“nothing… can we get out of this mess now?”

“there should be a blazer up near the front desk so you can disguise yourself, and for the love of god, take those glasses off,” he said, opening the door. “is your number the same?”

you raised a brow, looking at him with confusion.

“so i can contact you just in case anything goes wrong.”

“yeah… it’s the same, but why would anything go wrong? you said you knew how to disarm a bomb, right?”

“doesn’t mean there won’t be any problems. you should know about problems, right agent l/n?” he shrugged, walking out of the room.

you stared at him in disbelief, scoffed, and walked out behind him. you made your way to the front of the building, sangyeon walking away from you, leaving you to your own devices. “where the fuck is eric…” you mumbled to yourself as you picked up the blazer, slipped it on, and sat at the desk beside another receptionist.

“y/n, when the target passes you, i need you to start escorting people out of the building, just in case,” jacob said in your ear.

“how big is this place?” you asked, looking around to keep your eyes on anyone who left and came in.

“six stories.”

“six? got it…”

“he’s here.”

you nodded, not responding, as you watched not a man come in but a woman with a large bag. your eyebrow lifted as you looked at the woman. she was short, with hair in a loose bun and evident bags underneath her eyes. her smile when walking in was replaced with a scowl as she looked at the receptionist beside you. her eyes trained not just on her but also on you.

she looked at you both as if you'd done something to hurt her personally. as she reached the desk, she told the receptionist she had booked a specific room, giving her last name and showing her id. once the other receptionist gave her the room key, you were obliged to jokingly ask if all patrons gave her that look when they came in.

“no, she was kind of the first since i’ve been here,” she laughs softly. “but her name sounds very familiar. her name reminds me of someone fired not too long ago,” the receptionist continued.

“have you ever seen the people who were released? or were they gone before you could see them?” you asked, the conversation sparking your curiosity.

“no, not at all. i had seen that name on the “released” list before, i’m pretty sure, but i’ve never seen what she looks like or any of them, honestly.”

you sat there, fiddling with your glasses as your mind returned to what sangyeon had said.

how do you even know its a man?

your mouth fell open as you stood up from your seat, looking over at the receptionist. she looked up at you with wide eyes, her mind seemingly going to where yours was.

“you need to get out of here, and i mean as soon as you can. if anyone is near the front, tell them all to leave the building and go a few blocks down to the park where it's secure,” you picked up your glasses, tucking them in the blazer pocket as she nodded, slightly panicked.

you put your hands on her shoulders, saying, “please, do this calmly and orderly, okay? you will be a big help in keeping everyone safe. deep breath.”

she closed her eyes, sucking in a breath before letting out a shaky one. she stood up, putting on a smile, and began to walk over to anyone she saw. she gave them her best customer service voice, possibly telling them a white lie to get them out as she guided a few families and employees out of the building.

“it’s not a man, jacob,” you said as you phoned him.

“i know now… she's been using her husband's car whenever she went to get her materials for the bomb. her name is sunhee yim. she used to work at this hotel in particular before she got let go.”

everything the receptionist said, you'd had relayed to you by jacob.

once everyone in the lobby was gone, you bent down to look at the computer.

“jacob, hack into this computer for me; see how many rooms are filled so i can get to them as fast as possible,” you said, looking at the monitor.

“got you.”

once jacob was finished, you had him direct you to all of the utility rooms, telling the workers who were in them to leave from the emergency exits.

once they left, you focused on the rooms. out of the six stories, there were 60 rooms filled. you stood back up, listening to jacob list all the booked rooms.

you breathed heavily as you finally reached the 60th room, gripping your knees before knocking. those stairs almost broke you.

the door swung open as an older woman looked at you, her arms crossed, “yes?”

you tried catching your breath as you stood up, showing her your badge. “agent…” pant “l/n…” pant “you need to leave, ma’am…” pant “there are threats for this hotel.”

“leave? i paid good money for this room, i’m not leaving it just because some pesky cop told me to,” she snarked.

“ma’am, this is life or death. you either stay,” pant “and lose your life,” you sucked in a deep breath, “or you come with me and stop being stubborn.”

slam!

she shut the door in your face.

“or blow up! not like i care! it’s only your life you're risking!” you rolled your eyes, about to walk away, when a smaller, more timid voice yelled a quick “wait!”

it turns out she was risking more than her life. you turned around, and a young girl, no older than ten, stepped from the room.

“a-are we really gonna die?” she asked, standing in the doorframe, her hands visibly shaking as she held the stuffed animal that still had a tag on it. you bent down to her level, holding her free hand.

“not if you get your grandmother to leave the building with you.”

as you tried to comfort the little girl, you heard a door open behind you as the woman from before stepped out of her room, a hoodie now on her head as she began to speed walk to the elevators. you saw sangyeon leave a nearby room, nodding at you before slipping into the room she had just left. your eyes widened as you looked at the little girl.

“ma’am, either you come with me and the kid, or if you survive, you get charged with child endangerment for keeping her in a life-or-death situation; the choice is yours,” you yelled into the room as the little girl started to tear up. the old lady looked at you and the child, sighing softly.

“fine.”

you picked up the little girl out of instinct before rushing to get the lady out of the room. the lady stopped by the elevator as you waited for her to step in before rushing down the steps. as you got to the lobby, the lady stepped out of the elevator and walked over to you.

“you both can follow that man right there,” you said, pointing at a door handler as he directed people where to go. “stay with your grandma, okay?” you said, standing her on her feet and patting her head softly.

“i’m her mother.”

you gawked, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as the lady huffed, holding her child's hand before walking out.

you shook yourself out of skepticism as jacob spoke to you.

“yim left the building, and she hasn’t yet made it to her car in the car garage. either that, or she’s just sitting in her vehicle.”

“i’ll go see.”

you walked out the door and down the block to look at the nearby parking garages. the same hoodie from before stood on top of the final one you looked at. she was looking over the hotel, seemingly waiting for it to explode into pieces.

you made sure she didn't see you before making your way up the ramps. “fuck, i’m getting a workout today.”

you finally got to the top, keeping silent as you drew your gun. you sneakily made your way beside her, nodding, “yeah, i can’t wait for it to blow up either.”

the woman jumped at your presence, stepping to the side and pulling out a weapon of her own. she pointed it at you, hands shaking as she stared at you with bloodshot eyes. she had been crying.

you held your hands up, showing her you also had a weapon, “shoot me, and that would be another charge on your record. you’d never get out of prison alive.”

“who said i wanted to be alive?” she yelled at you, tears running down her face.

“because if you didn't, you’d be in that building with the bomb you planted,” you put your hands down, realizing the type of person you were dealing with. you put the gun back into the holster, beginning to walk towards her. “if you truly didn't want to be alive, you'd sit in that room with that bomb and explode into smithereens along with every bedframe, every lamp, every tv, every–"

“shut up!” she shook the gun, threatening you.

“i get it. you lost your job and way of life and wanted revenge. what better way to get revenge than blowing up everything and everyone you believed made you lose what you genuinely loved? am i right?”

“shut. up.”

“you never wanted anything like this to happen, did you? you have a family. loved your family so much that you took your husband’s car so we wouldn't even think it was you or link you to this,” you continued to walk to her.

“i’ll fucking shoot you!”

“do it.”

her hands began shaking even more as your chest made contact with the nose of the gun. you stared into her eyes, glancing down at the gun for a quick moment. you watched her finger move to the trigger, almost pulling it before you moved out of the way.

the bullet went through the car window as you grabbed onto her arm, dragging her to the ground. the gun skidded on the pavement as you held her arms behind her back.

“mrs. yim, i can't charge you. that's the police’s job. regardless, i can tell you that this is now an added attempted murder charge,” you told the woman, who, at this point, was sobbing. you pulled her up as she broke down.

“but i have to give it to you; you did it.”

you walked up to jacob’s car once the cops took over the rest of the situation. jacob rolled down the window as you posed in the blazer you wore.

“cute, right? the receptionist said i could keep it.”

“it’s alright,” sangyeon said, approaching you quietly.

you jumped again, fist balling up, “stop doing that!”

sangyeon chuckled, the butterflies returning at the sound, “you did good back there.”

“thanks,” you mumbled, hands crossed in front of you. “i guess you did pretty good disarming that bomb, too.”

“thanks.”

“but please don’t sneak up on me like that again!”

“okay, okay, i’m sorry. wait, woah… did you hear how easy that was?”

“how easy what was?”

“genuinely apologizing.”

yep, the butterflies were gone.

“fuck you.”

he smirked, “please. if i let you, you would.”

he’s right, but you couldn't let him be as you opened the door to jacob’s car. you slipped the glasses back on your face, telling jacob to drive. jacob didn't drive quick enough because sangyeon leveled himself with your window.

“we’ll have to talk at some point; you have my number.”

jacob let out a soft “oop.” before driving off.

you rolled your eyes, pulled out your phone, and were ready to yell at eric.

you dialed his number, listening to it ring before he picked up.

“hello?”

“you fucker! you know what, next time you're in trouble during any mission, you better be able to save yourself.”

“woah? what did i do?” eric asked, the sound of him sliding a seat out being heard in the background.

“you left me on a mission with lee sangyeon? are you kidding me?”

“what are you talking about? i called off weeks before this.”

you looked over at jacob, one of his eyebrows raising at eric’s statement.

“so, this wasn't your original mission?”

“no.”

“that damn kim younghoon.”

“you had a mission with hyung? how was it?”

“goodbye, eric.”

“wait! i wanted to know how it–"

jacob tapped a finger on the steering wheel once you hung up, “that's weird, right? why would mr. kim put you on a mission with sangyeon hyung if he doesn't even like him?”

this was a test for you. knowing younghoon, he wanted to see your self-restraint. what an asshole.

it was the next day, and you sat in the meeting room. one of your colleagues, sunwoo, sat beside you, and jacob was on the other side. your foot tapped on the floor as all of the other agents sat chatting with each other, jacob talked to kevin in english from across the table, you assumed they forgot you spoke it as well because the gossip they were spreading was definitely only english worthy. none of the other agents knew what they were saying, and the two knew it.

it wasn't until they got to younghoon did they stop, mainly because the boss himself walked in. everyone in the room stood up and bowed at him, except you. younghoon walked to the front of the room, barely acknowledging any of them before his eyes landed on you. you leaned back in your seat, crossing your arms as he told everyone to sit, eyes still trained on yours.

you were a tough cookie to crumble, so he knew you weren't breaking eye contact any time soon. you were pissed, he could see it in your eyes, and it was just the way he wanted you.

he chuckled to himself, setting his folders down on his podium. he grabbed a remote for his slideshow before saying a quick, “good morning.”

jacob whispered to you, “what do you think this is about?”

“don’t know, could care less.”

“first, let's congratulate some of our team members for the job well done they did with the bomb threat yesterday. good work, mr. bae and agent l/n.”

the room clapped for you both, but you kept your eyes trained on the front.

“okay, let's get down to business. the reason i asked you all in here today was that…” he clicked to the next slide, and almost everyone in the room let out a gasp. the air quickly drained from the room as everyone looked at the screen: “targeted agents.”

your eyes widened. you were looking over at jacob, his eyes already on you.

“there's recently been threats sent to many agents across the two agencies here in seoul. someone has managed to hack and learn almost every single agent's name, position, and mission database. so far, we have gotten 10 people from not just here but also cre.ker to report these threats.”

he clicked to the next slide and spoke again: “threats so far have been sent to agent ju haknyeon of cre.ker, ms. lee chaeyeon of yz…”

“that’s why she’s not here…” you heard sunwoo say from beside you. sunwoo was quick to raise his hand and wave it.

“yes, agent kim?”

“chaeyeon was my partner; what do i… what do i do now?”

“well, i was going to get to that after i named all of the targeted people.”

sunwoo nodded, slowly putting his hand down. you pat his shoulder, looking back at the screen as he continued with the names.

“and last but not least on the targeted list, agent lee sangyeon.”

your jaw almost floored. in this situation, the pure mention of your ex’s name picked up your heart.

“oh my gosh…” you heard jacob mumble, his jaw almost on the same level as yours.

“since i’m a civil man, i’ve decided to put my differences with cre.ker aside to get to the bottom of this. if you encounter any sort of threat, please be sure to report it as soon as possible and stay home. both cre.ker’s ceo and i have decided to continue missions but as larger teams.

so, back to agent kim’s point, you will team up with mr. bae and agent l/n until we can track down who’s in charge. for now, we don't know who we can trust in this building, so please don't spread too much information with anyone, don't spend too much time in open spaces alone, and please take care of each other.”

you all nodded as he said that various missions would be given to each team as soon as leads could be made. kevin took all of this in, and since he stayed in the office most of the time, he would be one to keep back and get any leads he could. as the meeting broke off, you and jacob both looked over at sunwoo, with wide grins on both of your faces.

“welcome to the best team here!” jacob beamed.

“you’ll love it with us.”

and he did, not by choice, however.

you took the time to stay together literally because you had an impromptu sleepover at jacob’s place that evening.

“but why'd it have to be at my place?”

“your apartment is bigger than mine,” you said, dropping your bags. sunwoo followed in, looking around as he sat on the couch with his bag. you looked over at sunwoo, motioning for him to drop the bag. he looked at you, hesitantly dropping it. “sunwoo, please. we aren't strangers and we’re good people.”

“i’m good people,” jacob said, walking to the kitchen.

you rolled your eyes, looking at sunwoo, “just relax. jacob, i’m calling eric.”

“why would you tell me?”

“oh, no reason…”

you smirked, sitting beside sunwoo on the couch as you whipped your phone out, dialed eric’s number, and quickly switched it to facetime.

it rang three times before he picked up the phone. “you can't get enough of me. how bad do you miss me?”

“shut up. i'm here with someone, sunwoo say hi.”

sunwoo looked at you, at the phone, and then back to you.

“he’s shy. anyway, we're having a sleepover at jacob’s place–"

“no, we aren't!” jacob yelled from the kitchen.“it's too late for that, jacob! anyway–"

“i can’t come over.”

“oh? why not?”

“i’m–"

“eric, are you hungry or not?” you heard sangyeon’s voice in the background, his face coming into view. you quickly moved the phone back to sunwoo, shaking your head vigorously as sunwoo looked at you confused.

“y/n, i’m with- oh? where did she go?” eric asked. sunwoo looked at you, then went back to eric.

“she…” you tried to motion your finger towards the bathroom, but sunwoo, seemingly on purpose, didn't lie. he took his pointer finger and outstretched it to you, telling eric you were still holding the phone.

you sighed, turning the phone back to you, seeing sangyeon standing behind eric. he looked down at the phone as soon as eric said your name. you looked at sunwoo, glaring as he threw his hands up.

“you’re with sangyeon… i see…”

“hello, y/n.”

that was the first time he’d said your name since you'd seen him, and god, did it sound so good coming from him. you sucked in a breath, “so, why are you with him?”

“the whole threats stuff, i don't know if they talked about it to you guys this morning, but i’m kind of scared, y/n, but not really, you know? it's like…”

eric trailed on, but you couldn't focus on his words anymore. sangyeon was staring at you. how did you know? you noticed a slight glare in his eyes almost instantly. he looked so good, but when did he not. if you weren't in your right mind, you’d probably say something out of pocket for someone who was supposed to be over him.

“oh my gosh, i forgot. you two hate each other! my bad, y/n,” eric exclaimed, turning to look at sangyeon and then back to you.

“i don't hate–" sangyeon began.

“eric, are you drunk?” you asked, cutting off sangyeon.

“i may be a little tipsy. as i was saying, i’m with hyung and–"

“eric, i got extra food since you didn't say anything,” you heard a woman's voice from behind the camera.

“oh, thanks, noona. i was gonna tell you guys i wanted something, but y/n called.”

“who?” she asked, sangyeon letting out a chuckle.

“you know what, eric? i’m gonna let you go. have a good time,” you mumbled, hanging up before he could say anything else. “dammit.”

“who was that?” sunwoo asked, leaning back in his seat, finally getting somewhat comfortable.

“my mission partner from cre.ker.”

“no, i mean, the other guy. the guy you panicked seeing and the guy who was looking at you like he wanted to kill you and kiss you.” how funny.

“hah…”

sunwoo waited patiently, his eyes blinking slowly.

“my ex.”

his mouth formed an ‘o’ as he turned his attention to jacob, who had finally finished in the kitchen with a drink in one hand and his phone in the other. he looked up fake shock on his face.

“oh, you guys are still here.”

to jacob’s demise, you'd forced the sleepover to last four days. on the last day, you three were called to the office.

there you sat, kevin standing in front of the room, waving at all three of you with a smile. before younghoon could come in, he walked over to you all, “be proud of me.”

“no thanks!” you grinned, looking up at him.

“i got leads; you should be proud.”

“i’m proud of you,” sunwoo said in english.

you, jacob, and kevin looked over at sunwoo, shocked, his eyes darting between you three.

“what?”

before you could speak up, younghoon walked in, but not alone. trailing behind him was cre.ker’s ceo and a few people coming in behind him: eric, the woman you've learned to be miyeon, a few unfamiliar faces, and another one of their agents you’ve seen before named hyunjae. eric grinned at you, sitting beside jacob, hitting his shoulder hard.

“ow,” jacob flinched, hitting him back. the two of them almost started to hit each other even more before you stopped them.

“kids, stop,” you joked, looking toward the front as younghoon cleared his throat.

“i have told my agents that i have set aside my differences with cre.ker, today shows that. welcome in cre.ker ceo yoon youngro; he’s going to help us get to the bottom of all of these targets. as you can also see, we are missing a few people, but don’t be alarmed. we have some of our best agents teaming up to complete this.”

“when i call your name,” continued mr. youngro, “you will be on the mission tomorrow, and that will be your team going forward. starting with eric seo, jung miyeon, jacob bae, y/n l/n, kim sunwoo, park jiwon, ji changmin, and last but not least, kevin moon.”

“me?! no, no, no, i don’t do missions!” kevin exclaimed, standing up.

“oh! i read ahead. my apologies mr. moon.”

you covered your mouth, stifling a laugh. jacob, on the other hand, let his laugh go free. kevin mumbled something before sitting back down, shooting a glare toward jacob.

“last on this list is one of my best agents other than lee sangyeon, lee hyunjae.”

before you could laugh at kevin more–he was still glaring at jacob, mouthing curses–you looked over toward the front, raising your hand.

“yes agent l/n?” younghoon asked.

“that is way too many people for one mission,” you say, a few people (sunwoo) nodding.

“as i said, these are heavy missions; we need as many people as we can get. also, suppose one of you goes on the list. in that case, we’ll still have a team of enough people to do the mission,” he responded, allowing mr. yoon to continue with the list of teams that will be together going forward.

as he spoke, you couldn't help but notice hyunjae’s eyes on you. you glanced over at him, giving him a quick, soft smile. unsurprisingly, he sent one back; however, surprisingly, he winked along with it. your eyes widened before you looked back at jacob, and of course, he noticed.

“oh wow,” he said, tapping eric’s shoulder. eric turned to look at him and then looked at you.

“what happened?” eric asked.

“is hyunjae single?”

as the meeting wound down, the eight of you found yourselves left in the room together. it was eerily quiet, especially too quiet for you, jacob, and eric to be in the same room together.

“so what’s everyone’s specialty?” you asked them all, looking around the table and waiting for someone to speak up. “well… i guess i’ll go first. i’m a combat and disguise specialist. mainly a combat specialist. probably the best part of this job is its danger, am i right?”

you heard a small chuckle from hyunjae and sunwoo and earned a smile from eric. as you finished up, jacob was quick to talk after you, “i’m a technical and surveillance specialist. since it’s just been me and y/n for so long, we both had to take on multiple things, which worked out well for us.”

“hell yeah, it has,” you said, high-fiving jacob.

“can’t disarm a bomb, that's for sure,” miyeon mumbled under her breath, only for jiwon to hear and giggle. you eyed her, furrowing your brow, but before you could say anything–

“my turn!” eric exclaimed. “i’m a combat specialist, kind of a disguise specialist now since working with y/n; speaking of, i have been working with jacob and y/n forever, it feels like.”

“only a year,” jacob rebutted. eric rolled his eyes and continued to talk.

“... anyway, i was supposed to be working with changmin hyung, but–"

“but you never show,” changmin finishes his sentence.

eric looked appalled, “what? yes, i did. the first five times i did.”

“but then you got booked on tons of missions with y/n, and i get it. anyway, since i’m already talking, i’m a technical specialist.”

you nodded, elbowing sunwoo, prompting him to talk.

“oh, well, i’m a combat specialist. my main old partner was a surveillance specialist,” sunwoo said, tapping his fingers on the table.

“i’m a technical specialist,” jiwon said, smiling. “my partner was juyeon, but he recently got put on the list as well.”

“so that’s where juyeon went…” eric expressed, tapping his chin. “you know i’ve been wondering, but now i remember all this stuff going on.”

“fucking idiot,” you mumbled, earning an oncoming hit from the younger one, only for you to dodge it and for it to hit sunwoo.

“ow.”

“sorry…” eric said, retracting his hand.

“if we could carry on. i’m a surveillance specialist. my partner was lee sangyeon. probably the most skilled combat specialist in korea,” miyeon said.

both you and hyunjae scoffed, the sound putting a sneer on miyeon’s face.

“i’m a combat specialist, but if we're talking the best, i would like to say it's me or even y/n,” hyunjae expressed, “you’re pretty good at what you do.”

“oh? how would you know that?” you asked him, tilting your head slightly.

“i’ve seen you train before, back when you were a rookie.”

“oh… uh, we don't have to bring those times up–"

“oh my gosh! rookie y/n was so funny,” jacob laughed. “good thing they paired her with me. she didn't know any sort of korean. oh, and how she looked the first time sangyeon talked to her. she was all- ow!”

you punched him. there’s no other way that jacob would shut up, and you knew it. one thing you didn't notice was how miyeon rolled her eyes at the mention of sangyeon’s name.

“anyways!” you exclaimed, “i think–"

“shouldn’t we be talking about the mission?” miyeon asked, cutting you off.

“well, we can't talk about the mission if we don't know what this mission is. obviously, we have to wait for kevin to come back,” you said, lip quirked up in annoyance. miyeon crossed her arms, looking back at jiwon and whispering to her.

you looked at eric, subtly pointing at her, questioning what her deal was. eric shrugged his shoulder, just as confused as you.

“hey, fuckers!” kevin yelled as he walked in. “oh, oh yeah, i forgot there were other people in here. hello.” kevin bowed at the others, sitting in one of the chairs near the head of the table and connecting his laptop to the big screen. “so, i have some pretty good leads. sorry for taking a while, i was trying to gather my thoughts and make this as cohesive as possible before i came in here.”

kevin began talking, clicking through the slides he had made. “recently, there have been buzzes about an underground syndicate. the syndicate has been known to target a few agents before; however, they were proven to stop targeting agents forever ago due to many men falling short of taking over.”

“the lee-yang syndicate?” you asked, leaning back in your seat, having learned of the group from jacob a year in the agency. kevin nodded, clicking on the next slide.

“yep, and they're back. apparently, under some new directive, they're powerful enough to crack into most of our systems and take over many emails. this list right now seems to be random, so please stay clear.”

you all nodded as kevin continued, “tomorrow, the mission is to get into one of their bases, boss has given me a location, and it seems as though it’s under a hair salon in yongsan–"

“does it really require this many people, though?” miyeon cut kevin off, hand raised.

you looked over at jacob this time, who looked as bothered as you.

“well, usually, no, but that's what i was getting to. we don't know how powerful they are now, so going in larger groups is safer. no one knows when or where they will be targeted, so it's better for you all to work together on this. right now, we're getting leads on the main boss. this, unfortunately, isn’t someone we've taken down before.”

as kevin clicked on the next slide, it showed a detailed plan, leading to a grander picture of the mr. lee, who was supposedly now in charge.

“so that’s the man in charge?” sunwoo asked.

“looks like a goof to me,” eric joked, causing you and jacob to stifle laughs.

“that's what i said!” kevin quipped along.

“can we please be a bit more serious about this? my poor sangyeon is in danger because of this,” miyeon expressed.

“your sangyeon?” you mumbled, shaking your head, before eric spoke again.

“she means our sangyeon. my poor hyung,” eric dramatically gripped his heart, fake sobbing before sunwoo hit his shoulder. eric looked up to see who hit him, but sunwoo started swatting at a fake fly.

“woah, i’m sorry, there was a fly on your shoulder.”

once the meeting was done, you said goodbye to eric as you, jacob, and sunwoo went to jacob’s car. once you and jacob had dropped sunwoo off, he began to make his way to your apartment. the ride was silent, a comfortable silence.

“that miyeon is something else, isn't she?” jacob examined.

“i don't see how eric and sangyeon deal with her,” you expressed, tapping your fingers on your thighs.

“you seemed a little jealous about that ‘my poor sangyeon’ thing,” jacob tried hiding his laugh, the key word being tried.

“jealous?! no, i was annoyed because she kept cutting everyone off.”

“but you said, and i quote, ‘your sangyeon?’ as if she had claimed something that was yours…”

“he basically is still mine,” you mumbled, looking out the window.

“you really have to work on your mumbling,” jacob chuckled.

“stop it!” you groaned, watching as he pulled into your apartment complex’s parking lot. as soon as he parked, you got out of the car, almost forgetting to unbuckle your seatbelt. you didn’t even say goodbye as you ran to your apartment.

the day drained you, and it felt like luck wouldn’t be on your side. you’re stuck with miyeon, with jiwon, and even worse, you’re still stuck with eric. as you made your way into the apartment, you closed the door with your foot, locked it, crashing on the couch.

thoughts ran through your mind as you lay on your couch. much of your thoughts surround the danger your ex was in. although you’re acting like you don't care, your heart has been at your feet since you learned about the situation. to be fair, it has been nothing but hell for you since sangyeon walked out of your apartment that night. your mind, no matter how many times you told it not to, lingered on him, his smile, his lips, his laugh, him.

you grew to love sangyeon even when you were just friends; the love never left. you missed lee sangyeon. you wholeheartedly missed him. however, your pride wouldn't allow you to say that aloud. at the end of the day, your pride led to your breakup's demise. your pride is your job. your pride is, unfortunately, in making kim younghoon happy.

it was mission day. this was the first mission with this team you didn't want to be on, but if it was to keep you all safe, so be it. you all gathered outside the cre.ker building; two cars surrounded you as you tried to break into two teams of four.

“all i know is i can't be separated from jacob,” you said, crossing your arms, sunglasses resting on your head. the disguise you had on was simple; you had made yourself somewhat unrecognizable, but who would know you in the first place.

“yeah, were a package deal,” jacob said, leaning up against his suv beside you.

“and i don’t want to be a woman stealer, hyunjae hyung, but–" eric began.

“miyeon and i can go together,” hyunjae declared. miyeon looked over at eric before nodding toward hyunjae.

“but–"

“we can go with jacob and y/n, eric,” changmin said, walking over to stand with you.

“sounds good to me,” you said, nodding towards the suv.

eric didn't complain more as he started walking.

“we all know the plan, right? we don't need anyone messing up,” miyeon said, focusing her gaze on you.

you couldn’t help but stare back, “we know it.”

“good.”

“okay~ let's go,” jacob said, pulling you toward the car. as you got in the back with eric, you groaned, looking around.

“what are you looking for?” eric questioned.

“something to fucking punch,” you stated simply, punching the headrest of the driver's seat a millisecond before jacob sat in it.

jacob turned around to face you with wide eyes, “were you trying to punch me?”

“no. unless your name is miyeon, i wasn't.”

“why would you want to punch miyeon?” changmin asked, looking at you.

“no reason. no reason at all.”

it took almost thirty minutes to get to the location, behind the building, across the street. you stared out the window, finding jiwon pulling up beside the suv you were in.

during the ride, you had eric change clothes and put on a wig. you then applied unrecognizable makeup on him, some of it becoming wonky during the car ride, but you managed to make it work. eric turned to you; his shirt was lopsided, and the fabric was covered in polka dots. he looked like a mess, but as he said, he only became okay in disguise when he started doing missions with you.

“oh wow… you look–"

“great, i know!” eric said, showing off his attire. “the pink dots really suit my eyes.”

“they- they sure do! we should go now, right, jacob?” you questioned, unbuckling yourself as you leaned forward.

“well, not yet,” jacob said, staring at the screen in front of him. “it's not safe. a few of their members are lurking around the building… i’m not sure why.”

you leaned up, holding onto the driver’s seat to look at the screen. surely enough, two men stood outside the salon laughing and talking while sipping their coffee. it was weird how casual they were being, but you brushed it off, saying:

“i’ll be okay. doesn't seem like they're paying much attention anyway.”

“y/n, be careful,” changmin voiced as you opened the vehicle door. you gave a simple nod, grabbing the fake nametag as you stepped out of the suv. you looked around. sunwoo was standing by the shop's back door, and you were all parked behind. hyunjae was already making his way in.

“were you waiting on me? how sweet sun–"

“hurry up, we gotta get to the back of the salon,” you heard miyeon yell from the suv.

you sneered, looking at her, “you're supposed to be stealthy.”

“just speed up, y/n; you can't call yourself the best if you–"

“can we actually hurry?” sunwoo asked. you looked over at him, nodded and walked into the shop. as you left with a coffee or two, you walked across the street.

as you said, neither man acknowledged you as you walked into the vibrant salon; maybe the polka dots for eric were a good idea. a few workers knew you were coming, but none of the customers did.

“welcome in,” the woman at the front desk said over the music playing. you walked up to the front desk, smiling as you showed her your nametag. she nodded, knowing exactly who you were, and a soft ‘hello’ left her mouth.

she stood up and walked over to an empty station. “this’ll be where you'll be for the day. if possible, please don't take any of our actual customers.”

“i won't,” you chuckled, earning a small laugh from her as well. as the laughter died down a mere second after it had started, her face turned earnest, and the smile left her face.

“i’m serious.”

once she said that she walked away and sat at the front desk. you watched as she brought two fingers to her eyes and then pointed them directly at you. forget the syndicate underground; this lady scared you.

you focused back on your station, masking yourself with the hustle and bustle of the other stylists. you began to fiddle with the products lying around on the vanity, humming the music that played. you heard the tuning of your earpiece, almost choking as you watched eric enter the establishment. he looked worse than you thought.

he walked over to the front desk before strutting to you with a huge grin. you tried your hardest not to look at him in disgust, but he made it difficult by greeting people in the other chairs. you turned around to face the mirror, keeping your face out of view so no one could see your displeased look.

“it's a mirror, y/n. i can see how you're looking at me,” he whispered, sitting in the seat.

you grimaced, walking behind him, turning his chair around to face the mirror, and playing your hands in the wig. “so, uh, what are we doing today?”

“i'm not sure. i was thinking of a trim and a nice dye. do you think a pretty rainbow color would look good on me? i mean, any color looks good, but you get what i mean. or maybe! a perm. dye and a perm? i think i'll do all three, please.”

eric looked at you through the mirror. your eyes were squinted, and it looked like your lip was twitching to say something, but you held off. “okay,” you said through gritted teeth.

twenty minutes had passed, and you were adding pretty pink rollers into eric’s ‘hair,’ deciding to do only the perm. you were shocking yourself with how efficiently you were doing this. you may not know how accurately you were doing it, but it looked right to you. as you were getting into the groove of things (and trying to ignore the glares from the lady at the front desk), jacob spoke in your ear,

“y/n, eric, the others have entered the bottom of the premises; also, the two other men have gone, so please be careful.”

you looked down at eric, and both of you nodded to each other in agreement.

after fifteen more minutes, you had eric sit under a dryer, where he talked to other older women about things he saw in magazines.

“i don't know, i don't think she wore it better. it’s obviously the leggings that are ruining it,” eric said, showing the lady beside him what he was looking at. she looked over, shaking her head, and pointed at something on the same page.

“no, the leggings make sense. can't you see? it suits how the dress is supposed to look,” she argues, tapping her pointer finger on the page to get the point across.

“yeah, if you’re in a 2000s bad teen rom-com, this is outdated and tacky,” eric said as you walked over to them both to check on the wig. “y/n, agree with me.”

eric turned the magazine to you as you looked over it. “it's cute. i mean, the leggings kind of suit it.”

eric groaned, tossing his hands up in exasperation. “no one gets it. do any of you understand fashion?”

“eric! y/n! something went wrong down there, so you two have to get people out of the building as soon as possible. they’re making their way up, and so far, it doesn't look pretty.” changmin yelled into the mic, causing you and eric to look at each other wide-eyed.

that was when you heard a gunshot. it was loud and clear to everyone in there, from the bullet that shot up from the ground to the first piercing scream.

you really hoped that no one down there was killed, but up where you and eric were, the goal of getting everyone out calm and orderly was shot to death.

women and men started running out, except for a select few who were too shocked to move. eric quickly stood up, guiding people out. even those frozen in place were soothed by eric’s calmness in their compromising circumstances.

you also tried to help, getting to the other side as you saw a lady under a dryer, reading a book with earphones in her ears. she looked familiar…

you bent down to eye level, tapping her on her knee, “ma'am, we need you to leave the pre–"

she glanced up at you, furrowing her brows in disgust. she took her earphones out and laid them on her lap, “the pesky cop from the hotel.”

you babbled like a baby as you tried to make sense of the situation, “you're the grandmot- i mean mother from the hotel. well, unfortunately, i need you to leave out of here, too. also, i’m not a cop–"

“here we go again. is this place going to blow up, too? am i not safe anywhere? are you stalking me?”

“ma'am. to answer your first question, no. to answer the other questions, yes and no. you’ll be safe if you leave right now. just–"

“you know what? this time, you stalker cop, you’re doing me a favor. i get to leave here with a free hairdo and some money left in my pocket.”

“i’m not a–"

you couldn't finish your sentence yet again as she stood up, brushed past you, and waltzed her way out of the establishment. you looked around, eyeing eric as he guided the last customer from the salon.

you reached into your inside jacket pocket and pulled out your weapon. you watched eric yank his styling cape off, pulling his polka-dotted shirt from his pants. he reached under the oversized shirt, pulling his gun from the holster. you glanced over at eric, snorting a bit before turning away.

“what?” he asked, not noticing the wig was still on his head.

“nothing, nothing. let’s go,” you coughed out to hide your laughter. eric slowly nodded along, still confused, as the two of you made your way to the back of the shop.

you heard another gunshot as you opened the door, crouching behind a large dumpster. you brought eric down with you, listening in for either jacob or changmin to speak.

“the two men from before, they have weapons drawn. they’ll be walking up to the two of you in about thirty seconds. remember, don't kill them,” changmin advised.

“do you have a tranq?” eric asked in a whisper.

you nodded as you dug into your other pocket, pulling out a single tranquilizing dart. eric reached under the shirt again, opening a pouch to grab his own before the two reached you.

“on three, you get the heavy one, and i’ll get the taller one,” eric whispered.

“why do i have to get the heavier one?” you argued.

“you’re stronger,” he disputed with no shame. “plus, you have the agility to get him, duh.”

“well, if you put it like that. you're absolutely right.”

eric clicked his tongue in annoyance before asking the two in the car how close the men were.

“ten seconds…” jacob began.

you and eric got in position as jacob told you both which sides you'd have to get since he'd heard the plan eric provided. it was now five seconds, four, three, two…

you and eric popped out behind the two men as they passed you both. eric jumped on top of one, keeping him quiet with the sleeve of his shirt: baically a headlock. you, on the other hand, had your guy in a choking position. you counted eric down before both of you put each of them to sleep with the darts.

as the guys slumped, you let out a breath, turning around to be greeted by a running sunwoo. he was alone, three guys chasing him. you and eric drew your weapons, pointing them at the men chasing sunwoo. sunwoo stopped once he reached the two of you, holding up his own gun, glancing at eric, and snorting at him almost as loud as you did.

“why are you laughing at me now?” eric asked sunwoo, glancing at him.

“shh, we’re in a standoff,” sunwoo said, sucking in his lips once more.

“hey, sunwoo?” you began, your eyes still locked on the three men before you.

“yeah?”

“can you turn around for me real fast and start running again?”

“what? why would i do that when it’s 3-on-3 already?”

“trust me.”

so he did. sunwoo lowered his gun, slowly turned, and jolted once again. eric looked over at you, confused, as the one in the middle started running again, seemingly forgetting you and eric were still right there.

as he started running, you grabbed his arm perfectly pulling him into your grasp and placing two fingers on one of his pressure points. once he wilted in your hold, you wrapped your forearm around his throat, all while keeping the gun pointed at the other man in front of you. you kicked the man's hand, the gun falling from his defenseless body.

“holy shit,” eric mumbled.

“i knew one of them was gonna be stupid enough to try and go after sunwoo. i guess this is why they failed the first time, dumbasses. now put your weapon up and use your fucking combat,” you urged, dropping the man in your arms to his knees. eric snickered at you, nodding his head before putting the gun down.

he turned to the guy in front of him, shrugging to himself before running towards him. eric was as proficient as most combat specialists, and you trusted his skills more than you did anyone’s (other than sangyeon’s). when eric joined you and jacob, he was a rookie. through that year and a half, you watched eric bloom into one of the best agents in the country. if him beating this guy’s ass wasn't telling enough for others, it was sure enough telling for you.

as you were about to get the other one, you saw the door behind him swing open and watched as someone ran out to attack him. the man didn't stand a chance to even try to lunge at you as he was battered to the ground… by lee fucking sangyeon.

once they both took the men down, you couldn't keep the look off your face. the look of bewilderment and a bit of contempt. you weren't upset he was there–kind of–but you were pissed he was out and about when there were obvious threats against him. so in other words, you were upset he was there.

“are you fucking kidding me?” you questioned, making your way toward him.

“we don't have time. we have to go,” sangyeon said, placing a hand on your head to turn you back around. “let's get out of here. police have already been called.”

before you could say anything else, sangyeon started running, fast. you looked over at eric, but he was still looking at sangyeon, puzzled. he once again shrugged to himself as he took your hand and began running to where the cars were now parked. jacob was standing outside the suv, leaning on the back of it. since sangyeon made it before you and eric, he and jacob were in the middle of a conversation.

jacob stopped talking and looked over at you as you approached.

“what. the. fuck are you doing here?” you yelled, stomping over to the older man. you pointed a finger at him, and you had a frustrated frown.

sangyeon threw his hands up in defense, “it wasn't me. miyeon phoned me in, and you know i can't bail on a good fight.”

“that woman is so… you know you're not supposed to be out in public like this! are you that dumb?” you expressed, your hands placed on your hips.

sangyeon slowly dropped his hands, the same smirk you swore you'd seen before gracing his stupidly handsome face, “agent l/n, if i’m not mistaken, it seems like you're worried about me.”

“no, it’s just; what if someone ends up on this list because you wanted to be in a fight?”

“then they'll be on the list, and who knows, maybe it would be my fault. would you be as worried for them as you are for me?” he leaned towards you, tauntingly close. your arms crossed over your chest as you looked him in the eyes.

“i’d be worried about anyone on that list, regardless of who they are.”

“oh, really? because i highly doubt that, y/n. i know you weren't this worried when they announced your new little friend’s partner's name, did you?”

“who?”

“sunwoo’s partner.”

“how do you know about her being put on the list?” you challenged accusatively.

“we work in partnering agencies now. obviously, i know everyone else on the list, plus jacob told me,” sangyeon nodded toward jacob, glancing at him briefly.

“well, even then, you have no idea how i reacted.”

“and somehow, i still know you didn't act like this.”

“act like what?”

“like you're scared that hit will be successful on me.”

“shut up. you don't know shit about me.”

“oh yeah?”

“yeah.”

jacob cleared his throat, almost feeling like a third wheel since eric had made his way into the suv already. he was about to speak before miyeon walked over, seeing you and sangyeon so close to each other. you looked over at her, noting how upset she looked at the mere sight of you two being near each other. you swiftly moved away from sangyeon before shifting your gaze back to him.

“oh look, your girlfriend’s waiting for you,” you said intrusively, entering the suv.

you took one more peek at sangyeon, not finding him but catching a satisfied smile on miyeon’s face as she walked up to him, a hand on his arm. you considered that she heard you as you hopped in the suv, looking around again, feeling like you needed something to punch. since jacob wasn't in the car yet, you punched his headrest a millisecond before he got in.

jacob jumped, looking around the seat to you, not a trace of remorse on your face.

“okay, this time, you were trying to punch me,” jacob said, closing his door and watching the other suv take off before him.

“if your name is sangyeon or miyeon, you're right,” you said, sitting back in your seat.

“now you want to punch hyung? are you just like your boss and don't like cre.ker?” changmin interrogated.

“don’t you ever compare me to that walking piece of garbage.”

“yeah, don't ever. she's much better,” eric said, sitting back, not realizing he still had the wig with the pretty pink rollers in it.

“nice hair, eric. the pink rollers go well with the polka dots,” jacob said before starting the suv engine.

eric needed answers. he pulled out his phone and opened his camera app, his eyes widening. “that's why i was being laughed at!?”

“so who ruined it?” you asked, leaning back in your chair, looking up at everyone in the room. “i know damn well it wasn’t eric or i.”

the day after, you were all called to the office building. it was not only shocking that kim younghoon insisted you all come together again in his office specifically, but he was in the same room at the same time as lee sangyeon. the room was unmoving, silent, and tense. no one wanted to take accountability–

“it was hyunjae,” sunwoo declared, crossing his arms looking at him.

hyunjae looked down at his hands, unable to look up and see the disappointment on his boss’s face.

“how did you fuck up?” you asked him, tapping your foot. the ever-growing impatience getting to you.

“i got caught. i got caught before i even made it to the location i was supposed to search, i’m sorry,” he apologized, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

“i can’t believe this. we even had to drag agent lee out into the public just because you had to go and ruin the mission. do you realize how dangerous and irresponsible it was of you?” mr. youngro clamored. you looked over at jacob, feeling uncomfortable as he continued to yell at the man. hyunjae looked like a child being scolded. “i’m so disappointed in you.”

“okay! we get it, but that day is over. hyunjae messed up, yeah, sure. but–" sangyeon started.

“but shouldn’t you be getting upset at sangyeon himself for putting himself in danger, or maybe get upset with miyeon for calling him when she knew he was on the list? this wasn't a one-person thing,” you said, looking over at both miyeon and sangyeon.

miyeon scoffed, rolling her eyes. god, you hated that.

“something wrong, jung?” you inquired. “you’d think that if you cared so much about your own partner, you’d want him safe, right?”

“of course i want him safe–"

“then why did you call him? did you want to see him so badly? you put your little fucking crush over his own and our protection?” you interrogated. at this point, the words left your mouth faster than you could stop them.

miyeon looked shocked, sending glances to sangyeon. sangyeon looked over at you in dismay as miyeon continued, “you're so dense, y/n. do you realize how you sound right now?”

“enlighten me. tell me how i sound.”

“like a bitter ex-girlfriend.”

“oh fuck out of here!”

“oh, and it didn't seem like you were that upset seeing him yesterday, anyway. you were all close to him and stuff. at this point, it's sad.”

younghoon perked up at that, eyes squinting as he looked at you. you shared a gaze with him, seeing his own disappointment. you couldn't care less as you looked back over at miyeon.

“sad? baby, i don't want him. (lies) you can have him. (no, she can’t) it's a matter of whether he wants you or not,” you jeered, looking over at sangyeon and then back to the woman you were talking to. “but this isn't about him, though. it's about your dumbass decisions and the way you chose to handle your groupmate’s mistakes.”

miyeon was taken aback as you kept talking, “if you and jiwon were as good as you say or even the slightest protective over these guys as you were your own partners, you would've told hyunjae there was someone on his ass, but you didn't. you’re selfish and inconsiderate, just like your fucking partner.”

“me, inconsiderate?” sangyeon exclaimed, “me?”

“yes, you. you agreed to come out of hiding, didn't you?”

“i did, but it was to save hyunjae’s ass. you can't put the blame all on miyeon because hyunjae didn't do his job correctly,” sangyeon retorted angrily. hyunjae looked over at him and balled his fist up, his eyes squinted as he darted at the older agent.

“i didn't mess up fully. as y/n said, it wasn't all my fault!” hyunjae tried to rebut. you nodded your head over at hyunjae agreeing with him. hyunjae gave you a small smile, thanking you for agreeing as he returned to sangyeon. sangyeon caught the interaction, clenching his jaw at hyunjae. hyunjae saw him, sneering, thinking it was the mistake sangyeon was so upset at.

“please, hyunjae, you’ve always needed sangyeon’s help on these things, i feel bad, but it is always you specifically,” miyeon spoke.

“that's not true at all.”

“it kind of is, hyung,” changmin said. “but i’m not putting all the blame on you.”

“well, as i was saying, the job wasn't done properly, so putting the blame on just miyeon is ridiculous,” sangyeon argued.

“oh, look! something you and your girlfriend have in common, not taking accountability for your parts in this whole thing.”

“i for one know you, you y/n l/n, aren’t talking about taking accountability. did you forget what happened?”

“how can i forget when you bring it up anytime i see you, fucking jerk, not realizing that i did what i did to save my job? you need to get over it. focus on miyeon, right?”

“you've got to be kidding me! are you making a scene because your mind is making up bullshit scenarios?”

“you know what, sangyeon, maybe it was a mistake i dated you in the first place. maybe it was right for you and miyeon to end up together. you’re both raging assholes that just don’t give a fuck and care about you only,” you stood up, and jacob followed you up. jacob wrapped his arm around you, looking at your boss and youngro.

“here you go again. you keep talking about something that's not even true, and you know it wasn't a mistake dating me. stop faking it. and if i did only care about me, i wouldn’t have cared to text or call you all i did when you did go and break up with me. it’s you who doesn’t fucking care.”

“oh fuck you.”

“okay! okay! mr. bae, please guide agent l/n to her desk. we aren’t getting anywhere if all of you are yelling at each other,” youngro said, rubbing his forehead as he paced the office.

jacob dragged you out to the office desk you rarely used, sitting you in your seat. you felt tears in your eyes as your hand shook. jacob put his hand up, palm facing you as you looked over at him. you let out a sigh, sucking up those tears as you weakly punched his hand.

“hey, hey, it’s okay. breathe,” jacob soothed.

“is that the talking he wanted to do, huh?”

jacob didn't respond, letting you calm down for a few minutes. after about ten minutes, jacob turned around when he heard the door open again. he watched everyone except the two bosses and sangyeon walk out. miyeon looked over at you, laughing, before walking to the elevators.

eric looked at you, pouting his way over. sunwoo also walked over and sat on your other side. he seemed slightly guilty, but you didn't know what for. “i’m sorry.” he said.

“for what?” you asked, but he didn't get to respond as you saw youngro and sangyeon walk off. youngro guided sangyeon out, and younghoon walked out a few seconds later. his face was red as if he had something to say as well. you didn’t look any longer, hearing eric’s words but not comprehending any of them.

sangyeon, as he walked past, had his eyes locked dead on you. he again had no readable emotion on his face. still, when you tried to look away, your eyes were back on him again. another thing you didn't catch was younghoon on the other side of the room, watching as the two of you stared at each other.

he was shocked it was you arguing with sangyeon and not him, but this somehow felt worse.

it was the end of the day, you felt free being able to sit the whole day, no mission. kevin came up to you, bending down and showing you his laptop. “we have a new mission for tomorrow.”

“is it with the whole group again? because i don't know if i'm going to be able to do it,” you said, looking at the laptop, reading it over before looking back at your own screen.

“unfortunately, yes.”

“well! looks like you’re showing the wrong person.”

“you okay?”

“i’m great, honestly, fabulous, really!”

kevin looked at you, furrowing his brows and nodding as he stood up. “i don’t believe you, but i’ll walk away anyway.”

you sighed, slamming your head on your desk before you heard a ping on your monitor. you watched your email symbol brighten and blink as you hovered your mouse over it. you double-clicked, opened the email, and saw you had several unread emails. you looked at the top message, deciding to click on it.

your eyes trailed over the words, each sentence made you raise your head slowly, your stomach drop, and your eyes widen. the final words of the email:

“you’re now on our list. you can hide, but for how long?”

“but i don’t want to…” you sighed, sitting on your couch.

“it's the only way to keep you safe, y/n. i fucking hate this,” jacob said, pacing back and forth.

“but do i really have to stay in a random house?”

“it's a house that hasn't been tracked by any of them, plus it's really nice. just c’mon before i start crying and shit.”

“crying? jacob, why would you cry?”

“because now i’m stuck with people i don't really know or like and, worst of all, eric.”

“i heard that!” eric said, walking out of your room with your bags. “my poor y/n. i can't believe you're on that stupid fucking list now.”

“oh well, all i can do is hide, and if that doesn't work, i’ll die.”

“don't say that!” both eric and jacob yelled simultaneously.

“okay! okay! jeez… let's go already.”

you trudged to the car, getting in, leaning back in your seat. you wished you could sleep this all away, but it didn't happen. as soon as you woke up, you found yourself parked in front of one the largest houses you'd ever seen.

“boss hooked it up, so now there should be everything you need in there,” jacob said, getting out. you followed suit, looking up at it, sighing softly as you walked up the grand front doors. the door was unlocked as you twisted the knob and walked in. your eyes instantly looked around. it was almost as beautiful on the inside as on the outside.

eric brought in your bags, eyes widening at the interior. “can i be put on the list, too? i want to stay here.”

“oh, shut up and take the bags to her room. come on, i’ll show you to it. i got to see the house before you did,” jacob said, walking towards a large room. he pushed the door open, eric plopped the bags down only to run to the bed.

“it’s so soft.”

“you’re telling me i have to stay in this big ass house alone?”

ironically, after you said that you heard the door open and shut, a murmur of voices came from the front of the house as you three walked back to the living room.

“no fucking way,” jacob whispered.

you came out of the room last. once you walked down the hallway, your eyes met the one out of two men you didn't want to see. it was lee sangyeon, of course. a lee sangyeon carrying bags himself.

“what are you doing here?” you asked through gritted teeth.

“no, what are you doing here?” he asked, his face contorted in disgust.

“i asked you first.”

“well, he asked you second,” miyeon said from behind him.

“butt out.”

jacob scratched the back of his neck, “this was the address younghoon gave me.”

“why does he keep doing this?” you groaned, walking over to the couch. you plopped down, covering your face as you heard jacob’s phone beep.

“shit… we gotta go, y/n, mission calls,” he said, nodding toward the door. eric waved, walking behind jacob, and miyeon rubbed sangyeon’s arm, walking out a few seconds after. once the door shut, the room became silent. you sat there for a bit before standing up and going to your new room without another word.

and that’s how it had been for the past few days with you two. there was silence, barely any words in the house unless they were coming from a screen.

yes, you’ve passed each other in the hallway.

yes, you’ve looked at each other for far too long at periods.

yes, you left food out in case he wanted something to eat and vice versa.

yes, you've seen him walk from the bathroom borderline naked because, for some reason, he wanted to use the shower in the bathroom closest to the living room and the one closest to your room.

yes, you started wanting to talk to him on your third day.

yes, you've started missing him.

yes, the close proximity was getting to you.

but no, you can't break first.

and you didn't. this distance, both close and far at the same time, was getting to sangyeon as well. so as you sat in the living room of the house, legs crossed, watching a movie, sangyeon found it the perfect time to sit beside you.

not a word was said; you didn't even look at him. you could smell his natural musk mixed with the cologne he was wearing. he’d always smelt so good. his fingers tapped his thigh as he leaned back, looking at the tv screen.

your eyes flickered everywhere until they finally landed on his side profile. he was actually a dream—a dream you never wanted to wake up from but were forced to. your eyes traveled from his eyes to his nose, lips, and jaw and right back to his eyes… which were now staring into yours. his eyes looked down at your lips, the bottom one trapped between your teeth out of nervousness.

his eyes looked back into yours, the emotion still unreadable, but one emotion showing through more than it had the first time you guys were together. lust.

your breathing began to pick up, the feeling of butterflies weighed heavy in your stomach, and you were sure your hands were fiddling with something, but you couldn't look or feel. sangyeon’s gaze felt like it was taking up all your senses.

you heard sangyeon mumble, “fuck it.” before he leaned in and kissed you so hard it knocked all the wind out of you. once he felt you not kiss back, he pulled away with his eyes closed.

“i’m sorry. i-i got caught up in the moment and–"

“shut the hell up,” you said before you reached over and kissed him just as hard. the built-up emotion, the craving, and the need were all coming in full force.

sangyeon grabbed your hand, pulling you in his lap before picking you up by the thighs. you cradled his face, feeling his tongue hot against yours. the kiss was sensual, heavy, and so passionate it could weaken anyone. sangyeon walked you both into his room, which you were seeing for the first time as he laid you on his bed.

sangyeon pulled away from the kiss for a second, watching you chase his lips. he chuckled softly, pecking your lips repeatedly until you had to speak.

“i need you,” you said, feeling his lips hover over yours once again to go into another peck. “i need you so bad, sangyeon. i really need you to fuck the feelings away if you have to. i need you to fuck me like you hate me.”

sangyeon paused his pecks, his eyes pierced daggers into yours, “i can't.”

“huh?” you asked timidly. did you fuck up by saying that? is that not what he wanted?

he pressed his lips onto yours again, this time not in a peck, as his teeth bit down on your bottom lip, “you know i fucking can't,” he continued. he didn't let you get out a response before his lips were on yours again.

“i love you, and you know that, don't you? as much as i want to hate you, i just can't.” his lips met yours again. “i should be fucking pissed off at you for the little ‘your girlfriend’ stunt you pulled in front of miyeon. why’d you do it? why say any of it? because you were jealous of her? you don't get to be fucking jealous if someone has a crush on me.”

“i’m not jeal–" he shut you up quick.

another kiss left you breathless, “i should've hated you when you wouldn't respond to me on the first mission we had together in a long time.” another kiss. “and i for damn sure should've hated you that night. the night you broke my heart into pieces, but guess what… i couldn't bring myself to hate you.”

you looked up at sangyeon and listened to every emotion flood from his mouth like a waterfall. you watched the pool of emotions in his eyes become more complex, which you didn't think was possible. a part of you continued to break from its shell as he talked.

“i found love in you, y/n, something i hadn’t been able to find in any other woman, and you took that for granted. it's been a year, i should despise you. when i saw you at that damn banquet, it was either i keep my eyes off of you and wallow in the fact that when i look at you, my stomach turns to mush, or i stare at you and realize how bad you messed up my mind for that whole fucking year. i should hate you, but i just. can't. do. it.

so instead, i’m gonna fuck you how i should have been fucking you for a year. i’m gonna fuck you, so even if we don't do this again, you won't be able to take anyone the way you're about to take me. i’m gonna fuck you so your pretty body, your pretty mind, your whole being will regret the time you hurt me and only remember how good it was with me. i’m gonna fuck you like the love of your life should, do you understand me?”

“yes.”

“good, now i’ll shut the fuck up, and you’ll let me take care of you.”

sangyeon’s lips found purchase on your neck, licking and sucking at your pulse, not leaving a mark but oh so badly wanting to. he ran his hands up and down your body, seemingly trying to re-familiarize himself with every dip, crevice, and softness he felt the first time.

“you remember when we had sex the first time?”

you nodded.

“you think you could sit on my face properly this time? meaning, without a fight of me declaring my love for you?”

“a-again? are you sure you want–”

“i’m positive. don’t think i didn't catch you staring at my nose, baby. i know you want it too.”

sangyeon lifted your shirt a bit, kissing down your stomach, passing where you wanted him and down to your thighs. bless your senses in not wearing any panties tonight. you were sure sangyeon could tell you weren't wearing any because the arousal that was leaking from you was certainly not going unnoticed. he spread your legs wider, biting the insides of your thighs before looking up at you through his lashes.

this was a beautiful man.

“okay, let's go,” he said, not giving you any time to move. he sat up, tossed his shirt off and forced you up. he laid on his back with you still in his arms, and made you straddle his chest. his hands latched on to the hem of your shorts, pulling them down. you lifted up for a little bit, kicking them off as you kissed him once more.

“kissing is great and all, but if i don't feel your pussy on my tongue in the next five seconds, i might pass away,” he said, licking your bottom lip.

“you went without my pussy for a year and a half, i think you'll survive five seconds,” you quipped.

“mmm, baby, you don’t get how tortuous it was for me. you should’ve left a little gift for me before you decided to run out and break up with me.”

“maybe this time i’ll give you enough to remember.”

“then give it to me.”

you said not another word. your confidence was higher than the first time you both did this: kind of. you crawled up to his face and watched his pupils dilate from just the mere sight of your sopping pussy above his mouth for the first time in what felt like an eternity. as you lowered your hips, sangyeon thought you were going too slow. he grabbed both of your ass cheeks, dragging you down on his tongue.

a shuddered moan left your throat as his tongue lay flat on your folds. just this felt perfect, but you knew sangyeon wouldn't stand you being stagnant for much longer, so you started moving your hips.

oh, how you could tell he still had a thing for your ass. his hands barely left it as his tongue delved into your pussy. you were melting onto his tongue almost like an ice cream cone, and he couldn't waste a single droplet of you.

if you could tape the moan he let out from just tasting you, you’d keep it on repeat forever.

“you taste..” he couldn’t stay off of you for too long. “so fucking…” he sighed into you, pushing his face further into you. “so fucking good.”

“fu-fuck sangyeon. feels so good,” you whimpered, one hand traveling to grip his hair.

he sucked, licked, and swallowed every bit of nectar that fell from you. you kept moving your hips as best as you could, but you almost forgot how good he was at this.

your eyes almost crossed, and your hips nearly halted once his tongue stiffened to dip into your hole. you looked down at him and watched him tongue fuck you like a deprived man.

you grabbed onto the headboard with one hand, bouncing on his tongue but only lightly. you shivered, feeling one of his hands massage your thigh, the other applying a small amount of pressure on your puckered hole. that was new.

his nose rubbed against your clit, his tongue searched within your walls. the hand that was on your thigh parted your lips, and he brought his tongue out of you to lick up to your clit. you think it was the first time he opened his eyes to look at you as he wrapped his lips around the bundle of nerves.

you bit your lip and closed your eyes trying to control yourself before grabbing his hand that was on your thigh. you held onto it for dear life as he stared at you like he was hypnotized, enamored by you and you only.

“w–oh shit–wait, sangyeon,” you whined.

he stopped for a bit, continuing to look up at you. he pecked your clit, waiting for you to continue.

“i-i wanna give you h-head too,” you don’t know why you sounded so nervous, but this was something you’d wanted to try the first night you shared.

when he didn't respond, you shook your head again, “yeah, no, never mind. sorry, we can just–"

“turn around.”

“what?”

“turn around,” he repeated, as calm as the last time.

you grinned, un-straddling his face before re-straddling it and facing his lower half. you were quick to bend at the waist to latch your fingers on his sweatpants, tugging them down, his cock slapping up against his stomach.

“did you plan this?” you turned to look at him, his attention on the flesh of your ass. he slapped and kissed it as you were trying to resettle yourself.

“plan what?” he questioned, his eyes finally finding yours.

“sangyeon, you don’t have any underwear on.”

“you didn’t either.”

“touché, but you were the one to sit beside me in the living room, knowing you didn’t have underwear on,” you leaned forward, kissing his dick softly. you heard a hiss from behind you as you sucked his tip in your mouth, grabbing the shaft with your right hand.

“stop making sense and suck.”

you laughed softly. you forgot how big he was. you knew he wasn’t gonna fit in your mouth fully. but why not give it a try. as you held onto his cock, you widened your mouth around him, going as far as you could.

you felt his tip hit the back of your throat as you tried holding it there for a bit. sangyeon chuckled, spreading your lips once more, tongue diving in. you moaned around him, pulling up and seeing the trail of saliva you left behind.

you stroked him before parting your lips around his cock again. sangyeon wasn’t afraid to show you how he felt as you heard and felt on your pussy. you don’t know if you were doing a great job or if he was just sensitive. you weren’t going to go with the latter since you were putting your all into getting him all in your mouth.

sangyeon felt you struggle and heard you gag when you tried to take him all in, so he started rubbing your back to soothe you, “baby, don’t try to do it in one go. you’ll have plenty of time to learn how to take me.”

you pulled off with a slight cough, “oh yeah? is this your way of saying you want me back?” you turned to him, eyes locking again.

“if that whole talk i gave you before we started didn’t tell you, then i don’t mind stopping in the middle again and declaring my love for you like the first time.”

you smiled, shaking your head, “save it. i want you back, too… only if… you know… you’ll accept.”

you didn’t think sangyeon could move any faster than he did trying to get you on his face. he flipped you, leaving the bed to place your head on the pillows. he spread your thighs again, getting in the middle of them, and went back to eating you out.

somehow, this felt more desperate than the first time.

“you don’t get how long i’ve been waiting for you to say that. fuck, i need you to come on my face, baby,” he groaned, bringing his fingers to your aching hole. he plunged them in, not starting slow at all.

“fuck! i’m close already, k-keep going, please~” you begged, knowing he wasn’t stopping until he felt you come.

his fingers felt around in you, finding that gummy part and using it to his advantage. the tips of his fingers reached places in you that you could only imagine. he was so large all over, and just thinking about how his cock was going to feel in you had your legs shaking.

“i’m coming, yeon please don't stop, please,” you chanted. you kept pleading until the knot in your stomach snapped. you let out pornographic moans that were music to sangyeon’s ears.

his fingers didn’t stop. he wanted you further than just coming once, he needed everything from you, and you were about to give it to him just like he wanted you to. knowing you were close again, he used his other hand to press down on your lower belly, watching how your breathing picked up.

you threw your head back, babbling words that sounded like sangyeon's name mixed with curses. that’s when it happened: you squirted.

it was the first time ever for you. now you had to ask yourself how sensitive you were to even squirt, how sangyeon knew you had it in you, and how the fuck did you even do that.

sangyeon watched you in astonishment, biting his lip. your legs threatened to close, but he held them open with one hand. his cock twitch as he watched your pussy clench around nothing once he took his fingers out.

“breathe,” he said, rubbing your thigh. “so beautiful. so so beautiful.”

once you calmed, you looked at him. your eyes were hazy, lips swollen, and light tear stains on your cheeks. you looked at him how he’s been waiting since you separated, with love and want, like he was the only one in the world. he fucking loved you.

sangyeon leaned down, wiping your cheeks and kissing them after. the kisses went from your cheeks to your lips as you giggled, a smile forming when he hovered over your lips.

“i love you,” you whispered on his lips. your words had never been more true. you loved this man, and didn’t have to deny it to yourself anymore. fuck pride, fuck stubbornness, and, more importantly, fuck kim younghoon.

“i love you more.”

“liar.”

“i am not!”

“mhm, because if you loved me, you’d be fucking me.”

sangyeon didn’t say anything as he smirked, grabbing his cock and guiding it into you but just the tip.

“admit, i love you more,” he said, mesmerized by the way your face morphed in pleasure by just the tip of his dick.

you shook your head– maybe a little stubbornness was okay. you gasped as he added more of his cock into you. he was so big, you were so stretched with just a few inches. he was nowhere near entirely in you yet.

“admit it, and i’ll fuck you just. like. you. want,” he thrust hallow into you, leaning down to kiss your neck.

“okay. okay fuck, you love me more, just please. need you so bad,” you whined. sangyeon grabbed the bottom of your shirt, pulling it over your head and tossing it to the floor.

in one fluid motion, he sunk into you, nearly bottoming out. there were still a few inches, but you felt like you couldn’t breathe. a silent moan leaving your lips. sangyeon leaned down again, kissing your jaw and whispering praises in your ear while trying to keep his composure.

“we’re almost there. you can take it, right?” he asked, rubbing your hips.

you nodded enthusiastically, feeling like if he went any deeper, you’d come all over again. it was worth the risk.

he sank in deeper until you felt his torso meet your clit. sangyeon leaned down, licking your neck up to your lips. he kissed you softly, waiting for you to adjust, but once you clenched down on him, he had to pull away from your lips to let out a sound of his own.

“how’re you feeling?” he asked.

“g-good… you can move now,” you mewled, tilting your head to the side as he nipped again on your pulse.

his hips started slow, letting you feel every vein on his length. he didn’t have to move any faster for you to come, really, but you wanted him to. you needed to take him.

sangyeon was facing the same battle as you, he was fighting not to come, and your pussy was gripping him so tight he thought he’d pass out.

“fuck, have you.. have you not been with anyone since the last time?” he asked, partially because of how sensitive you were earlier and because of now. your cunt was still, even after the orgasms you’d just had, clenching and holding on to any and every ridge of his cock it could.

you said a soft no, and that seemingly turned him on more because right when the no left your mouth, his hips picked up. his cock rutted in and out of you, his hands gripping your thighs as he pushed them back so your knees hit your tits.

“yeon, oh–mmh–fuck! harder, i-i can take it,” you sputtered out. panic settled in, however, when you felt him pull out completely. “no!”

sangyeon shushed you, burying his whole length in you, a high-pitched whine leaving your mouth as he did so. his pace was brutal, each stroke leaving you choking for air. this is what you wanted; god, it felt better than you imagined.

you were so sensitive, so feeble to every thrust, so in love. you couldn't keep your eyes off him, the way his thick eyebrows furrowed in concentration, his own moans leaving his mouth as your warm cunt squeezed onto him, his hands gripping your thighs and keeping them up and spread. you were so turned on; the squelching of your pussy reminded you every time sangyeon fucked in and out of you.

“so fucking tight, fuck, you're so good, baby,” sangyeon grunted. “my beautiful girl, gonna let me fuck you all the time until i make up for that year, yeah?”

you nodded, not in your right mind, but you heard fuck all the time and were obliged to agree. he was so deep, each thrust had the tip of his cock kissing your cervix. he was fucking you so good you felt like sobbing. the room was filled with praises and skin slapping.

sangyeon could’ve came just by looking at you, how lost in pleasure you were, how, funny enough, dumb you looked. it was so hot. one of the smartest, headstrong people he knew was cock-dumb because of him. the way you looked up at him was contradictory from the actions going on in the stuffy bedroom, somehow your eyes were full of innocence while he was rearranging your insides.

“don’t look at me like that,” he groaned, leaning down, hiding his face in your neck.

you mumbled a sorry but couldn't get it out fully as sangyeon sent a particular rough thrust into you. “oh my fucking gosh,” you moaned, bringing your hands up to his biceps. your nails dug into the skin, the pain shooting right to his cock.

sangyeon leaned back up, feeling you clench down harder, noting your face and how your toes curled. you were close.

“right there,” you whimpered. “don’t stop, god, please don't stop.”

“i’m not baby, i’m not. wanna come? fucking cream on my cock?” his thumb dropped to your clit, rubbing it in circles. you nodded, gripping him tightly before letting out a loud moan. he felt your walls flutter around his cock, again holding back his own orgasm.

your eyes watered, tears slowly falling down your cheeks. it all felt too good. you didn't know what to do but to take the pleasure he was giving you. once the pleasure came to its peak, you were granted your release, your breath getting caught in your throat, your eyes squeezing shut.

you were brought back to when you felt sangyeon pull out of you, your eyes shooting open as you started grabbing at him to come back. you had already come three times, but you weren’t thinking with your mind; your pussy was reacting for you.

sangyeon pushed your hands away, flipping you again, pushing your head down on the mattress, and raising you up by your hips. sangyeon had told you before that your ass was a weakness; he needed to see it bounce on him to get himself there.

“so needy. so fucking needy, so i’m gonna give you what you want, my love,” he said, a thought switching in his head as he gripped your ass in both hands. “i want to try something. you can tell me if you don't like it.”

“okay, just please. fuck me,” you reached back, grabbing his length and rubbing the tip right on your hole. you moved your hand as sangyeon slowly guided himself back into you, burying himself to the hilt.

he began rolling his hips into you, sharp, slow strokes. he gripped your hips, keeping the same rhythm, slightly speeding up his movements. with each thrust, your broken moans got muffled by the mattress under you.

you may have overestimated yourself because the way he was fucking you now felt overwhelming. now you were free to sob; his dick was curving perfectly in you. your hands grabbed the headboard, trying to drag yourself away from his brutal thrusts. it felt too good, but way too much for you to handle. you got too ambitious at first, were you regretting it? no, not at all.

“oh no, don't run from it. this is what you wanted, right?” sangyeon pulled you back flush against his cock. he reached down to grab both of your arms, crossing them on your back. he held both your wrists together with his left hand, dragging you back as his thrusts met his pulls. “mm, fuck. you’re so perfect. missed this pussy so much.”

“fu-uck. so sensitive,” you choked out, your eyes rolling back.

“hold in there for me, baby, but back to what i wanted to try,” you could practically hear the smirk on his face. that was when you heard him pop a finger out of his mouth and felt the same pressure you felt while riding his face. his thumb was back on that upper hole, pressing down, watching your body jolt.

everything felt electric, your body was under his control. you couldn’t form sentences as he pounded into you, chasing his own high. his thumb didn't move, and you admit, although unusual, it felt so fucking good. he felt you tighten around him, your moans getting higher in pitch. sangyeon halted for a bit, leaning on your back as he took his hand from your wrists. he grabbed your face by your cheeks, kissing your lips sensually before continuing his motions.

“come, baby, wanna feel you one more time,” he moved the same hand underneath you, using four fingers to rub on your throbbing nub. you couldn’t moan, you couldn’t scream, and all you could do was keep your mouth open in hopes a sound did come out.

the spot he was hitting was perfect as your body shook, pussy convulsed, and more squirt streamed from you onto sangyeon’s thighs and comforter. sangyeon sat back up and groaned, looking down at where your cunt was taking him.

“i’m gonna come, baby, fuck i’m gonna come,” sangyeon panted.

“in…” you mumbled weakly when you felt his cock twitch in you.

he looked at you, “w-what do you mean?”

“come… come inside me…” you repeated, tiredness lurking in your body.

“are you–holy fuck–are you sure?”

“please~ wanna feel your cum,” you whined.

that seemed to help. sangyeon let out a moan as his thrusts became erratic. he was desperate, and it all came crashing down as ropes of his cum filled you to the brim. sangyeon collapsed on your back, and your body crashed into the mattress. his sweaty body comforted you for some reason as you tried catching your breath.

he kissed your cheek over and over before pulling out of you gently. he rubbed your back, rolling off of you and kissing your shoulders and back as he made his way down to your ass, kissing it as well. he spread your ass cheeks, watching his cum leak out of your spent pussy, softly groaning at the sight. sangyeon knew if he looked any longer, he would pounce on you again like an animal in heat.

“you did so good for me,” he said, getting up to walk over to the bathroom in his room. he turned on the shower and walked back to you as you opened your eyes to look at him.

“you fucker… had a bathroom in your room the whole time,” you nagged.

“yeah. so what?”

“you…” you had no will in you to argue. sangyeon chuckled, walking up to you and picking you up as he took you to the shower.

“talk after. rest now.”

after the shower, sangyeon dressed you in pj's, comforted you with praises, and kissed you until you fell asleep. you and sangyeon lay in your bed as he washed his sheets; your arm rested on his chest, his around your waist. you had taken a small nap and woke up to sangyeon still lying awake. you looked up at him, walking your fingers up to poke his nose.

he looked down at you, smiling tiredly, “how was your nap?”

“good,” you croaked, breathing in his scent and cuddling back into him. this all felt right, but for an apparent reason, the lingering problem loomed around that day. yeah, you two just had sex, but the feeling was bearing on you. you couldn't take it.

the panic and feelings then settled in as you thought longer. it didn't go unnoticed by sangyeon as your arm loosened around him, and you looked up at him, slightly moving away from him.

“sangyeon?”

“mhm?” he asked, turning to face you, a concerned frown on his face.

“i’m sorry,” you said, sitting up and looking down at him. your chest started rising and falling quicker as your eyes brimmed with tears. “i’m... i’m so fucking sorry.”

“woah, woah, calm down,” he sat up beside you, grabbing one of your hands, rubbing your knuckles. “sorry for?”

“you know what i’m sorry for, yeon. i didn't want to break your heart, i didn't want to break up with you, i didn't want to do any of it. i tried my hardest to give up on you, but i couldn't. then seeing you with miyeon hurt so much. god, it fucking hurt,” you sobbed, your other hand holding the side of his face.

“i just want you to know how embedded to you i am. i don’t want to be with anyone but you lee sangyeon. i’ll admit i am fucking jealous of miyeon, i am. she's gorgeous, she’s been loyal to you, she’s picture perfect of what you should have in your life, and i’m not that, but i want to be so bad–"

“hey, stop that,” he sighed softly, interlocking your fingers. “baby, look at me.”

you looked at him, his eyes full of emotions yet again.

“why do you think i dated you in the first place? did you not hear my rant before i fucked you into next year?”

“alright now…” you responded wiping away some of your tears, but quickly putting your hand back on his cheek.

“i’m joking, but look, y/n, you said you don't want anyone but me? i don’t want anyone but you. i don't like miyeon. she's like a sister to me. you can't be replaced, ever. not to me, you can't.”

that only made you cry more. you’d cried more this past one year than in the past years of your life. his thumbs wiped your cheeks. he leaned up and kissed you again lovingly. he kept one of your hands in his, taking his other hand and grabbing the hand on his cheek. he wrapped them around his neck, pulling you closer and sighing into the kiss.

you pulled away, giving him one last kiss before putting one of your hands in his hair, tugging at it slightly. sangyeon bit his lip, masking a groan threatening to leave his mouth.

“don’t start something you aren’t willing to finish, baby,” he looked at you, kissing your cheeks.

“who said i didn’t want to finish?”

sangyeon grinned, laying you down, “i better not hear complaints.”

the following day sangyeon felt around in the bed, groaning when he didn’t feel you lying beside him. he threw the blanket off himself got out of bed, and walked out of the room. as he walked into the living room, he saw you cleaning up a bit, humming to the theme song of a show that was restarting a new episode.

he leaned on the wall, smiling softly as he watched you pick up several items strewn around the floor. all of it felt so domestic; it didn't even feel like the both of you were on a to-kill list. he watched as you popped up with a soft “oh?” holding a small item in your hand.

sangyeon got curious, walking up to you and wrapping his arms around your waist. you jumped, turning your head as you held up the usb flash drive, “what’s this?”

“oh yeah! i found it at that underground syndicate thing. it looked like one miyeon usually has. i thought she’d given it to sunwoo or hyunjae to download some shit from their files, so i was gonna give it back to her but forgot.”

“for real? do you think they have anything on it? like… should we check it out?” you asked, placing it between two of your fingers.

“i don't have my laptop. your little boss man told me to leave it, dumbass.”

“he told me to leave mine, too. you know what? not to get off topic, but since you brought him up, i’ve been meaning to ask you: what happened between you two?”

sangyeon moved from behind you, sighing softly as he sat on the couch. he pat the space beside him, and pulled you to sit with him.

“it's a long story…”

“i have time.”

“younghoon and i were friends, ever since high school i think. we both were always into action movies. he was my best friend, kind of… constant movie nights, constant life plans. we wanted to create an empire together,” sangyeon took slight pauses, rubbing his face.

“he said he would take on the business aspect of it, i would take on the physical, so right after college, we began an agency. i got us a building and jacob was also someone we knew from high school. we knew how good he was at working computers and shit, but neither i nor younghoon were.”

“you knew teenage jacob? you guys go back that much?”

“well not really all of high school: senior year. he came from canada, but both jacob and i got recruited to cre.ker agency. jacob didn't take the offer, and neither did i at first. younghoon constantly gaslit if we even considered it. ‘ you’re not even good enough to go.’, ‘all we created, you want to destroy it?’, ‘don’t be a dumbass.’. it was all targeted toward me and never jacob, but once i got tired of his nagging and told him about himself, he kicked me out.

so i took up the offer from cre.ker as soon as possible. turns out he told jacob something completely different, so i didn’t talk to either of them for a while until you came here. i met you in your rookie years, remember that miss ‘i transferred, i’m not a rookie’.”

“stop that.”

“it was so adorable, though, how you acted on our first mission. you were pretty cocky, but like it was still precious, and i kind of liked it.”

you covered your face, turning away from him, “oh my gosh…”

“i’m actually happy you came here, i wouldn't have talked to jacob any other way, honestly.”

“used me to get to jacob, how dare you?”

“jacob was such a cutie, needed to get close to him again.”

you turned to face him with a pout causing him to chuckle and kiss the pout off your face. you kissed back, pulling away and keeping the pout thinking, “younghoon told me lies then.”

“what did he say?”

“said that you left because you got a big head.”

“of course he did… that's why when you chose him over me, it felt like another slap in the face. it's why i got so mad that night.”

“i’m so sorry sangyeon.”

“baby, it’s okay. we’re back together now, right?”

“are you officially asking me out?” you grinned, leaning to him.

“can i be your boyfriend again?” he asked, leaning into you.

“mhm… can i be your girlfriend?”

“of course you can,” he responded, pecking your lips before thoroughly kissing you.

once you both pulled away from the kiss, your mind returned to before as you looked at your hand. “oh yeah, the hard drive.”

“what are we gonna do with it? we don't have a laptop.”

“ooh, i know! we can call kevin.”

“which one is kevin again?”

“how do i describe him? uh… short, black hair, skinny, doesn't go on missions, the other english speaker other than jacob and i,” you described as best as you could, but sangyeon shrugged.

“kevin… kevin…” he repeated, placing his hands on his hips.

“i’m calling him, maybe jacob too, just in case.”

you walked away from sangyeon and into the kitchen, dialing kevin’s number. sangyeon was too distracted trying to remember kevin to acknowledge you leaving as kevin answered.

“kevin!”

“hit list girl!”

“don’t.”

you told kevin about the hard drive you’d just found and asked if he could bring his laptop to check out what was on it. he obliged since he was the one to get leads and believed it could help him on his next lead since the group's last mission had deemed successful. kevin said he would be over with jacob in twenty, leaving you to silence in the kitchen.

“yeah! i still don’t remember a kevin!” sangyeon yelled at you from the living room, making you laugh.

it barely took them fifteen minutes to arrive at the doorstep. jacob instantly took off his shoes, walked in, and sat on the couch. “let's hurry this up, i’m sleepy!”

“nice to see you too, jacob…”

“oh yeah, hi, my sweet y/n. now let’s hurry.”

kevin walked in with his laptop as you closed the door behind him. he took off his shoes as well, walking in and sitting beside jacob. as soon as kevin sat down, sangyeon walked into the living room, still shirtless and his phone in hand. jacob’s eyes widened as he looked at the older man, kevin not paying attention as he sat up his laptop.

“hey hyung,” jacob said, waving. sangyeon stopped in his tracks, looking up at both kevin and jacob but then back at kevin.

“oh! kevin! yeah, i know him,” he said, looking over at you. sangyeon grinned and walked over, sitting beside jacob and patting his shoulder. “hey, boys!”

“hey… why are you shirtless?” jacob examined, still stunned. “are you trying to show off?”

sangyeon laughed, shaking his head as you spoke for him, “you guys came earlier than expected, even though i told him to put one on just in case,” you voiced, walking over to the couch and looking for an empty spot near the laptop, unfortunately, not finding one.

sangyeon held his hand out for you to grab, which you did. he pulled you on his lap, wrapped his arms around you, and peeked at kevin’s laptop to see if he was done.

“what the fuck?!” jacob yelled, eyes widening once again when you sat down. “what did i miss these past days?”

“uh… kevin, are you done?” you asked, ignoring jacob to look over at kevin’s laptop.

jacob looked behind you to whisper to sangyeon. “what the fuck?” he mouthed.

sangyeon caught jacob mouthing at him, smirking as he mouthed, “we’re dating.”

jacob’s mouth fell open, “eric’s never gonna believe this,” he said aloud.

“believe what?” you asked, handing the flash drive to kevin.

“oh. nothing…” jacob said as kevin typed away at the keyboard.

“well, that's weird,” kevin said, looking closer at his screen.

“what? what’d you find?” you asked, bending to look at the screen, your ass slightly visible as your shorts rode up a bit. sangyeon had to force his eyes away and regain control over his body so he didn't grab it or smack it or…

he blinked a few times, shaking himself out of whatever trance you had over him, looking over at the screen as kevin began explaining, “there's a bunch of documents on this and a ton of spreadsheets.”

“what's weird about that?” sangyeon asked, resting a hand on your thigh to lean closer.

“well, usually when you download things like spreadsheets and other documents onto a hard drive, the date should match the day it was opened and downloaded,” kevin began. “there’s no way for them not to have downloaded it without opening the document. if they were to download them the day of the first mission, the dates should match up, but they don't.”

“huh?” you questioned.

“it’s nerd talk. the dates on the hard drive are all different and wonky,” jacob said, the explanation not helping you or sangyeon at all.

kevin formed a tight line with his lips toward jacob, showing you all the folders tab (mainly just you and sangyeon), making sure to not open the documents before showing the two of you what he was talking about.

“look, the dates of these documents were from a week before the mission. the spreadsheets are almost two weeks prior. i can't say they're linked to the whole syndicate thing, but…” he screenshotted the document dates before looking back at the three of you. “we can look at them to find out.”

“wait, what leads did you get from their last mission?” you asked, curious.

“the last lead we got is that the main leader might not be working alone in leadership. like, i know that’s obvious, but we learned just how different the syndicate is from how it was before. we were thinking, like boss man said first day, there could be an inside man, you know like a plant, but we aren’t fully sure. i highly doubt it, every one has been working off the clock to solve this shit. i’ve never seen every one so busy before...”

“but the fucking mission, oh my gosh, it was a terrible mission. miyeon kept yelling at hyunjae because he lost a hard drive that had something she needed or something like that. it was so loud,” jacob said, rubbing his ears as if hearing it all over again.

“so i guess that is miyeon’s, then. sangyeon had said he’d seen miyeon with it before,” you said, pointing at it.

“do you think she had any missions on that from the past?” kevin asked in sangyeon’s direction.

“i’m not sure. i’ve only seen her with it for a week or two, i didn't even know she actually used it, i thought it was for show.”

you laughed, leaning back against sangyeon and crossing your arms, “you know if she was smart, she wouldn't need to–"

“ah ah…” sangyeon stopped you, patting your thigh. “she’s still my friend.”

jacob again looked at the two of you wide-eyed, noticing how you pouted and shut your mouth right away.

“here, let me open it real quick,” kevin said, double-clicking on one of the spreadsheets, looking through the spreadsheet, and scrolling through it. “hm.”

“what's up this time?” jacob questioned.

“she has a list of people's names in this, both companies. the people with threats have checks beside them…”

“maybe she's keeping tabs,” sangyeon said, giving her the benefit of the doubt. “she does that a lot, honestly.”

“i’m gonna take your word for it. by the way she talks, i wouldn't hold it against her, to be honest. anyway, as i was stating before, from the last mission, we got a few mixed signals we have yet decoded but were led to think he’s in talks with even more people outside of our knowledge, but again we’re not for sure,” kevin leans back on the couch, tapping on his arm.

“hm.. yeah, all that is weird,” jacob stated, talking as if he didn’t know all this information beforehand. he huffed a bit before looking at you. “so dating, huh?”

“what? how’d you?” you turned to look at sangyeon, who had started whistling as he looked around the room. his whistling came to a halt as he caught your eyes, his eyes forming crescents.

“hi baby, when did you get there?” he asked, drumming on your thigh.

“so much for waiting until we were in the clear.”

“when did we agree on that?”

“i came up with it this morning… silently… while you were asleep, but it doesn't matter!” you exclaimed.

“uh, it does to matter. you sly people got back together and are basically having a honeymoon already,” jacob said, throwing his hands up in the air. “what if i called eric? how do you think he’d react?”

“don’t call him. only you should know; well, and kevin, too, but other than that, i don't want anyone else to find out, please,” you poked out your bottom lip, clasping your hands together.

“yeah, if you told eric, i promise you antarctica would know within a few days,” sangyeon laughed, pulling you against his chest.

“i just thought, you know, as your friend, i would've at least got a heads up,” jacob said, crossing his arms.

“you saw how i acted when i found out i was sharing this house with him. how would i have given you a heads-up if i didn't even know it was going to happen? he made the first move!”

sangyeon nodded, raising his hand, “guilty.”

“wow, hyung, you didn't even tell me,” jacob said, offended.

“i’m sorry. next time, i’ll tell you when i’m trying to get her back.”

“uh, yeah, no. there won't be a next time,” you said, tilting your head in sangyeon’s direction. “right?”

“yes, ma'am.”

“wait, you two were dating?” kevin asked, standing up out of his seat.

after that talk with kevin and jacob, the rest of your week went on as usual, as normal as sangyeon allowed.

you cooked, then you swam in the cute pool they had out in the backyard, and you and sangyeon fucked in the hot tub that was beside the pool.

you and sangyeon made food together again; sangyeon fucked you on the kitchen counter after the food was done.

you washed up in the shower, and he didn't fuck you in there, but as soon as you came out, he couldn't keep his hands off you, so he fucked you in his bed again, right after he finished putting the fresh sheets on it.

sangyeon wasn’t lying when he said he was making up for that year of no contact. at this point, you were shocked he didn't fuck you in front of jacob and kevin; he was probably horny then too.

you knew he could go again if he wanted, and he for damn sure wanted to, but the talk with kevin and jacob still loomed in your mind from days ago.

“what do you think about what kevin said?” you asked sangyeon, his arm wrapped around you as your back was against his front. he was kissing your shoulder, up to your neck before responding.

“about us dating? i’m shocked he didn't realize it.”

you slapped his arm gently, shaking your head, “no, i’m talking about that hard drive stuff.”

“i’m not sure how to feel about it; it's weird, though, right?”

“it is. you don't think miyeon is a part of this, do you?”

“no! absolutely not.”

you shrugged, turning to look at him. “i’m just saying, you can't really count anyone out, i’m not trying to accuse your friend.”

“unfortunately, i know, i just don't wanna think about it. kevin said they have a mission in the morning, so we can see what they get this time. he took the hard drive, right?”

you nodded, scooting into him, sighing, “yeah, he said he’ll give it to miyeon, ask her what the documents are. he should get back to me tomorrow before their next mission. anyway, wanna make breakfast with me in the morning?”

“you really are treating this like a vacation,” he laughed, rubbing your back.

“this is the most i’ve gone without a mission in a year, i deserve this.”

“you deserve to be put on a hit list?”

“no, like, i mean, nevermind.”

sangyeon grinned, “but yes, i will make breakfast in the morning, and if you don't wake up before me, i’ll bring you breakfast.”

“you’re sounding like a husband right now.”

“i’m just giving you a glimpse of the future.”

you yawned, not saying anything but smiling tiredly to yourself.

the last thing you heard that night was sangyeon telling you goodnight.

in the middle of the night, you heard sangyeon tell you he would get water.

however, that morning, you didn’t feel sangyeon beside you. you got up, used the bathroom, and figured he was up like he said, making breakfast, but as you neared the kitchen, you didn't hear movement in there or smell anything.

as you walked in there further, your breath hitched when you saw the glass of water still on the counter; it was full.

cont.

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philtstone · 3 months ago

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title: although it took a while

Summary: Shawn and Juliet figure out how to fall -- and be -- in love.

if u have been reading my personal posts here on tumblr dot com u jnow that, comrades. this fic kicked my ASS. real frustrated tears were shed. the only reason we're here today is because i dont know how sunk cost fallacy works and refused to give up on it after weeks and weeks of investment. technically this is in the same universe as "so here we are again" and "and we were driving on a road" (my beloved mollyverse) but it can very much be read as a stand alone. the title is of course from space age love song <3. enjoy!

Excerpt:

“What?”

“You were just …” Shawn exhales, rubbing his good hand over one eyebrow and back through his hair. It sticks up endearingly at the top. “I mean, you know, your face got all pinchy and sad a couple months ago, when everything with – I mean, when I was in the hospital, and you came to visit like three times and it was awful — not you visiting, but you looking upset because of me —” He offers a half-laugh that isn’t humorless enough to be truly upsetting. “Couldn’t have that happen again! But don’t worry, Jules, I’m actually fine. Zero gunshot wounds this time. We can totally pretend I walked into a door, or something, and then perhaps partake in a game of parcheesi.”

Juliet’s insides twist tightly, all in one go, into a pretzel-like shape. Schneiders’ Pretzels of Hanover, Shawn would probably say. He rolls his wrist again, grimacing a bit as he does. Before she can stop herself she’s reached out and grabbed his hand in her own.

“Tell me where it hurts,” she says, even though she’s already pressing her fingers gently in between thick tendons and the meat of his palm. Shawn’s fingers rest automatically against her forearm, close to her pulse. His hands are warm, as they have been the last handful of times she’s felt them, and instinctively she skips her thumb over a red scrape on his knuckle to work softly against the curve of his wrist where he usually wears a watch.

When she looks up, expectant, Shawn is staring at her. His mouth hangs faintly open and his eyes are … oh. Juliet swallows. They can be so intense sometimes.

“I guess I fell pretty hard,” Shawn says finally, registering her earlier question. An odd rough strand is bending his voice. Juliet’s heart pounds in her ears. Her own voice echoes back at her from that case earlier in the year – their proximity on the ladder, his arm reaching over her – Shawn, what are you doing? “Um – weird. I mean, weird. On my wrist. I fell hard and weird on my wrist.”

“Right,” Juliet says softly.

“That feels good,” he adds. They stare down together at their joined hands and Juliet’s careful movements. She ignores the way the dark hairs of his arm tickle her fingers and the faint twitch of his ring finger against her palm every time she shifts her grip. She tells herself they aren’t holding hands if she’s offering a pseudo medical service to her coworker who definitely doesn’t have proper health insurance.

read the full fic on Ao3

#my writing #I PERSERVERED YALL #psych #juliet o'hara #shawn spencer #shawn x juliet #shules #burton guster #shawn x gus #carlton lassiter #henry spencer #psych usa #psych 2006

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homebrewsno1asked4 · 3 days ago

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DISCLAIMER: This isn't goodbye, just a lot of change.

Hi everybody,

So I've been gone for a while. Lurking, but not present.

Where have I been and what am I doing?

1) I'm working on larger finite creative projects (including a novel/serial and a TTRPG). I had to face the hard truth that trying to consistently put out content took too much time and energy away from those projects.

I also have an account called @argh_games where I post horror games every day. "Didn't you say putting out daily content takes too much time and energy away from other projects?" Okay yes, but this literally takes a few minutes a day, is fun, and I'm trying to boost other indie creators. While I love building monsters, the process is long/math-y/research-y enough to sap my creative energy for the day - so every time I got back on the HBN1A4 horse, I wouldn't be able to get anything else done and it was bumming me out.

Back to ARGH - in light of my country electing The Orange One for the second time, I also made a Bluesky version, and I'll be crossposting there as best I can. (Maybe I can just rebrand this Tumblr and crosspost here as well? Please comment or DM me if that's something you'd like to see.)

2) My wife and I moved, which was in the works for literally half this year and it was one headache after another but it FINALLY FRICKING HAPPENED

3) SHOCKINGLY, I was diagnosed with ADHD and I'm still in the process of figuring out the right medication and dosage

4) I'm an uncle now!!!!!!!

All this + I've soured on D&D 5e after the massive debacle/disappointment of Wizards trying to walk back the OGL last year. Yes they eventually caved to public pressure, but I think Wizards are just biding their time and lying low until they try to pull similar bullshit, and tbh I just don't like it as a brand anymore. (Side note: wouldn't it be great if we could use that massive, organized, focused outrage to, I dunno, keep Trump out of office?)

That's not to say I'll NEVER post monsters again. I still love building monsters, items, etc. I still design lots of custom content for my campaigns (and I might post some of that stuff here).

Despite the change in format, I hope you stick around for bigger and better things!

Take care, everyone ❤

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writing-blocked-me · 2 years ago

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Over the Years

Chuuya x gn!reader

CW: BSD Spoilers (half anime based, half manga based) (15 and Strombringer spoilers)

Pairings: Chuuya x Reader

Notes: So I’m new to fic writing on tumblr but hi! A proper introduction post will probably come at a later date but for now my name’s Liv and I write for Bungou Stray Dogs (mostly) ad a few other fandoms (though I’m not confident enough to post anything for them quite yet). Hope you enjoy :)

Fic under the cut :)

You could never really be sure when exactly you fell in love with Chuuya Nakahara. Hell, you couldn’t even tell when you’d started to see him as a friend, instead of the fearsome, gravity-manipulating mafioso that he was to most others.

It might’ve been when you first met him, though you couldn’t say for certain.

It was one of your first days on the job, having just recently been recruited by the Port Mafia after they had absorbed the gang you had previously been working for. Kouyou had taken a liking to you and taken you under her wing. As you were delivering documents one day, you overheard Dazai and another, unrecognisable voice arguing. Though you barely interacted with the Demon Prodigy, you had never heard him shout. He was always quiet, calculating and observant. Never loud or outwardly enraged as he sounded then. It made you curious, so you’d decided to sneak a peek. That’s when you saw him, red faced and equally as enraged as the brunette opposing him. He’d argued with so much passion that you were partially in awe, but mostly amused. That amusement slowly turned into giggles, which alerted the two adversaries to your presence. Dazai told you to get back to work. Chuuya had just stared. After you left, you overheard Dazai teasing him about it; the screaming started up again. It had taken him a week after that to finally introduce himself, you thought it was cute.

It might’ve been as you’d grown closer.

Within a year of joining the Port Mafia, Chuuya had started making a name for himself. He’d joined the Flags, the mafia’s group of youngsters, who had taken him in as one of their own - his friends. He’d also become fast friends with you. Despite his aggressive personality, Chuuya was really easy to get along with. You would spend time with each other constantly, watching TV, playing games at the arcade, being teenagers. Chuuya actually made you feel kinda normal, despite working for a criminal organisation. You’d tease him for his height and he’d get all angry and try to insult you. In the end, you’d just end up laughing. There were times you’d stay up all night, playing games or talking.

During the attacks by Verlaine, you’d narrowly escaped death, Verlaine targeting you after his assassination of the flags. You’d comforted Chuuya as you both mourned the flags and you’d been by his side as much as possible when he was still discovering his origins. His strength throughout it all was something you both admired and adored. You were grateful you were able to stay by him and make sure he was safe, much to Chuuya’s dismay. He’d wanted to have you shipped off somewhere, even going as far as asking Dazai for help. Needless to say it hadn’t worked. Chuuya was not the only stubborn-headed menace out of your little duo.

After the events, when Chuuya had become an executive, and Mori had finally divulged the information on his family’s whereabouts, you had still stayed by him. You even went with him to see his parents, and comforted him when he left without saying a word.

You were able to see him grow and you saw beneath just the angry mafioso, to the guarded, loyal boy beneath. Maybe that’s when you fell in love with him.

Maybe it was as he grew older.

While he barely grew any taller, he had definitely matured. His jaw was sharper and his muscles more defined - he looked good. He’d grown his hair out and it now fell on his shoulder. His dress sense had changed too, from leather jackets with hoodies, to suits with an unbuttoned shirt, to, finally, his current look - the dapper mafia suit with an overcoat draped over the top and his signature hat. He looked more mature and grown up and, while he was always handsome, the confident aura with which he went about his day made him even more attractive.

That confidence was definitely not for show either. Chuuya had worked so hard to get stronger, grow tougher and be better. As the years progressed, you could definitely see the difference. You had watched him slowly become a better leader, one of the strongest members of the Port Mafia, someone you were so lucky to be beside. Chuuya, despite all of his promotions and successes, still continued to hang out with you, still considering you a friend and keeping you close. As he got stronger, he was able to protect you more and saved you countless times. That’s not to say you didn’t save him, though. You saved him as well, though not always in the same way. He was always working hard, which made you strive to work harder. He inspired you to improve. Maybe that’s when you fell in love with him.

Maybe you fell for him when you shared your first kiss.

It was at the end of a long, tough mafia mission. Both of you had been exhausted, but wanting to celebrate, you decided to go to a local mafia haunt for a few drinks. Chuuya, being the lightweight that he is, was hammered two glasses of wine in, the tiredness further, lowering his tolerance. You, however, were on your fifth glass of wine and, though tipsy, were still conscious. At this point, one of the other bar goers approached you, letting out a wolf whistle as he did so. You tried to politely inform him of your disinterest, but he, also in a rather drunken state, did not seem to be taking no for an answer. You continued in your efforts to dissuade him but Chuuya did not take the man’s persistence so well. Not unexpectedly, you weren’t allowed back at that bar. At least, not for a while.

After the fiasco, Chuuya had insisted on walking you home, though really, you were the one guiding him to your apartment. You helped him hobble up the stairs to your floor, only letting go of him when you were at the door to find your keys. You quickly unlocked the door, before you grabbed the executive mafioso once more, leading him to the couch. Big mistake. Although he was small, Chuuya was deceptively strong, even while drunk, and he pulled you down with him as he flopped onto the couch. It was then that he whispered to you how much he cared for you, how grateful he was that you had stuck by him throughout everything, how much he wished you would stay with him forever. Less than a second after his whispers had finished, he shoved his lips to yours in a very sloppy, drunk kiss. To you, however, it was perfect. Immediately afterwards, Chuuya fell asleep. On top of you. His soft snores filling your apartment as you stared at him in shock and adoration. Maybe that’s when you fell.

You could never really remember when it was you fell in love with the ginger mafioso. Maybe it was sudden, a single moment that set your heart ablaze. Perhaps it happened more gradually, with little moments shared between you building into a strong bond that eventually blossomed into love. It could have been at any time, in any way; you had known him for so long and it felt like you had loved him forever. You might never know when you fell.

However, whenever you spent time with him, your heart swelled and filled with love. So you supposed it didn’t really matter when you fell in love with him or how or why. All that mattered was that you were in love with Chuuya Nakahara.

Chuuya didn’t know when he fell in love with you, or how, or why. He guesses it could have been anytime over the years, you’d always been by him and he’d always appreciated you, which then turned into love. But Chuuya also knew that the when, why and how were not important. He loved you and he would continue to love you for as long as you’d let him. The ring he was carrying in his jacket pocket, as he made his way to dinner with you was evidence of that. Chuuya Nakahara loves you and wants to spend forever feeling this way, with you by his side.

#dazai osamu #nakahara chuuya #bsd chuuya #chuuya x reader #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs #bsd 15 #bsd stormbringer #port mafia #bsd #x reader #gn reader #bungo stray dogs #bsd port mafia #bsd spoilers #stormbringer spoilers #15 spoilers

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tloujm · 2 months ago

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Part XXXVII: Your New Groove

Author' Note: Sooo....I saw the votes and firstly thank you to everyone who did! More people participated than I thought would and it made my heart full! I can only hope this new installment in the fic was worth the wait of almost two years later. If you haven't peeped the final results, posting the chapters one by one now beat out posting all at once later, so I WILL get them all edited and set up to post on a more frequent basis. Thank you for your ongoing patience, for sticking with me and I thank you in advance because where this story is about to head, now that I am locked into the final act of Joel and the reader's storyline, I'm interested to see what y'all think.

PS: I never wrote smut like this before and I haven't written smut in a WHILE in general. I was so nervous to post this.

PPS: Sorry for the delay. Just when I was ready to upload this yesterday, Tumblr wanted to give me technical difficulties. I don't know if that was the universe telling me not to post yet but I just waited until the website wasn't being temperamental with me again.

Genre: A little fluff to start, a buildup with angst and a roaring slide into smut town

Summary: There's a glimpse into your budding friendship with Theresa. You, Joel and Ellie prepare for new changes in your joint lives. You and Joel...ahem... bond as he attempts to give you relief during the last stages of pregnancy.

Ship: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Small mentions of "daddy", ABF/lactating kink, pregnancy sex

Word Count: 4.9k

“I’m sorry again about dinner the other night.” You started. “(Y/N), I mean it, It’s fine.” Theresa chuckled as you two took a walk around the block. She recommended these walks to induce labor sooner after you complained about being tired of the persistent pelvic pain. You would push through it to walk with Theresa and Saoirse to the pantry or daycare to pick up supplies on her way home. Theresa made sure that she bundled her up well as it had been particularly windy this winter. “I can’t believe I overcooked the venison. It's harder for them to hunt in the winter, so I really hate wasting food this time of year.” “It wasn’t a waste, we still ate it.” “It was tough and dry. It was more like jerky instead of a roast.” You pouted. “Can’t believe I forgot it in the oven. Joel was right to call me stubborn for not using the timer.” “They call that pregnancy brain. You can't help it.” She laughed comfortingly. “I had it too.” “I suppose that makes me feel a bit better.”

Earlier that week, Theresa was finally able to take Joel up on his offer to come over for dinner and finally be introduced to you in person. Before that, it had just been two weeks of talking on the ham radio. Your chats would only be a half hour tops since the stables, where the radio she used was located, was not as warm as her house. She told you once that she read before the fungal plague, it was common to have your baby take a nap outside in Sweden. Something about the brisk fresh air aided in good sleep. She took those trips as an opportunity to try it out, telling you about how bundling the little one up and parking her hand-me-downed stroller at the door of the stable worked like a charm. If the idea was odd to you as someone from the north-east, it surely would not sit right with Mr. Texas.

You were surprised that she hadn’t brought her baby over for dinner. She didn’t say that she wouldn’t through the radio but once she showed up, she explained that she hardly ever had time away to just be an adult and not just a mom, so she found a babysitter. You and Joel understood that. He learned to believe that it truly took a village to raise a child and was lucky to have had as much help as he did as a teen dad.

Theresa blended into your life surprisingly well from the start, almost as if a kindred spirit. She made you feel so comfortable with the idea of motherhood and was very kind to Ellie. Joel always kept reservations about people in general, but you noticed nothing of real concern from him, especially after he noticed how much you’d begun opening up physically. He made a mental note to thank Wendy one of these days.

You even felt comfortable enough to talk to her about intimate things; things about your ever changing body and marital issues. You knew that Joel wouldn’t want you to share the latter, but you felt that those issues stemmed from a sense of low self esteem. Theresa had a way with words and it really seemed to get through to you better than anyone else. That was Joel’s goal, so he ultimately couldn’t be mad at that, you thought.

She became something like the sister-you-never-had and you couldn’t wait to formally meet her baby. You had yet to hold or so much as see her from being completely bundled up. You thought about yours and hers growing up together; imagining a more comfortable Ellie babysitting the two. The daydreams were a heartwarming glimpse into a life that you never imagined you’d have even before the fungal outbreak.

*********

With only a handful of weeks left in your pregnancy, Tommy started to reduce Joel’s shifts. Used to keeping active, he immediately felt weird about it, but overall knew that he wanted to be there for you.

Recently, you entered your final phase of the pregnancy: nesting. Honestly, it did annoy Joel when he couldn’t find things. You’d constantly move them around claiming that it was not the perfect location or baby proofed. Joel couldn’t afford to properly baby proof his home when Sarah was born, but she never got seriously hurt, so he didn’t think too much about changing their home. He only imagined it a bit more messy with toys and such. Despite all of that, he admired your ingenuity as he watched you DIY padding for table corners.

Joel found that this phase would annoy you too, but only when he was involved. He always seemed to be in your way and asked too often if you needed help. Ultimately, his solution was to do something outside of the house to give you some space. This is what started one of his biggest home projects to date.

Chicken pox broke out at the daycare which delayed Ellie moving in. Her initial response to the dinner where you asked if she wanted to live with you two was positive yet reserved, but by the end of the meal, Ellie showed how ecstatic she was to join the family. While she was still on the mends of sickness, Joel decided to finish his surprise for her so it could be ready once she was fully healed.

A sigh of satisfaction left Joel’s mouth when he opened the door to the garage; the renovation was almost complete. You suggested to him that she might like to have the garage because she was a preteen currently sharing a room with 5 other girls and may want space. He argued that you were overcompensating and offering too much space as the garage was twice the size of the master. You rebutted, expressing fear that she may feel smothered if you two forced her to stay in the craft room which was right next door to them and the nursery. It was also slightly smaller than the nursery. Joel, on the other hand, was more than fine with packing up his woodworking things and moving it into the basement or garage to keep her close by. Besides, he knew that soon enough she would be a full fledged teen and was afraid of experiencing the rebellious teenage years that he only got a taste of with Sarah. He wasn't ready to catch any unexpected visitations of the male variety alone with her in the garage.

Despite you two being the closest people to Ellie at the settlement, you knew that her moving in was a big, new transition in her life on top of the trauma that she was nowhere near finished processing. Their views on assuming what was best for her were too opposing to save her bedroom location as a surprise. They eventually decided to let Ellie choose where she wanted to stay on the property.

Joel was proud of his handy work and hoped that she would like her new room. Seeing it set up as a living space again reminded him of when you lived there after you two moved to Jackson. He couldn’t help but decorate it based off of Sarah’s room as that was the only preteen girl he knew, but also made sure he scattered some stuff of Ellie’s around to make it feel familiar. While quarantined at the daycare, she worked to pack the rest of what she owned, which was not much. The memories of his daughter and your distance from him at the beginning mixed in with the room’s future use brought up bittersweet emotions.

He took a break from the garage to have lunch. The faint sound of your cries traveled down into the kitchen. It took only a few moments for it to hit Joel’s ears again as he stopped what he was doing to confirm it wasn't in his head. Immediately, his protective mode activated and he sprinted up the stairs to see what was wrong.

You were standing in the ensuite bathroom with the door open. He found you topless, weeping in front of the mirror. His eyes immediately went to your chest as if it was his first time ever seeing a pair of breasts. He only ever gets to see yours lately in glimpses. They were larger with fresh stripes patterned across them. Your areolas were larger, darker and noticeably puffy. He cautiously approached you, surprised that you did not cover up or back away. You were genuinely at a loss and needed help.

“Nothing’s working.” You sniffled. “What’s not working, darlin’?” He gently attempted to pull you into a hug. You hissed when your nipple barely scratched the fabric of his worn out sweatshirt. “’m sorry.” He whispered. “Baby, what’s wrong?” “They hurt so bad! I didn’t think this would happen already. Dr. Carson didn’t say that I would need to pump so early!” Your voice was laced with frustration. “The pressure was never this bad—” “Why didn’t you say anythin’?” “It was never this bad before; barely felt it. It would leak, so I put towels in my bra. The pressure would relieve itself and then build back up and leak again." Tears continued to stream down your face. "This morning though...they feel like they're going to explode right off my chest. They won't even leak. The pamphlet said that massaging them would ease the pain, so that’s what I did and it helped at first, but it came back. It said that the milk gets stuck if it just sits there. I'm trying to pump it out but the damn thing...” You sobbed. “What’d you mean stuck?” “Something in the milk causes it to harden.” You pouted. “The baby isn’t even here yet so I can’t breastfeed and I can’t figure out the fucking hand pump. It’s not fucking staying on and I…” You pointed to it laying on the tiled floor. “I kinda broke it and…and the pamphlet said that it would only get worse if I don’t get the milk out!” You cried out all at once. “It said my ducts could get completely clogged and that it could lead to fever and infection!” You leaned your head on his shoulder as you rambled and he rubbed his hands up and down your back. “It feels like fucking rocks are trying to come out; they're so fucking heavy!” Your tone became one of defeat. “I don’t know what else to do, Joel. I feel so bad; That was the doctor’s only pump.” You tuck your head into his chest and Mumble, “Just fucking cut them off of me. I don’t care anymore.” “Here, sit down for me, ok baby?” Joel guided you to the toilet. “Where’s the pamphlet?” Joel couldn’t help but find you adorable. Even though he knew you were in real pain, it reminded him of when you’d sometimes act out melodramatically to get his attention and it did always get his attention. “I’ve read through it all, front to back. I tried everything it told me to do. Hot towel compress, massage them…and I did it exactly as they said.” You responded as you pointed out the bathroom door into the bedroom. In large font, the front of the tri-fold read 'Breastfeeding 101'. Joel picked it up and returned to you. “Some came out earlier, but nothing now. I haven’t hated my boobs since high school when I first got stretch marks.” Joel chuckled lightly, thinking that you were making light of it yourself until he heard your sobs again. He came back into the bathroom with the pamphlet, reviewing it himself just in case you missed something.

“Umm…ok” Joel too was at a loss. He never encountered this issue with Sarah’s mom. He knew that she ultimately decided not to breastfeed, but if she had any issues with it, she didn’t share it with him. Despite their intimacy, she understandably shared most of her maternal struggles with her own mom. “Let’s try something new, alright? First, let’s get you comfortable.” “How am I supposed to get comfortable?” “You’re gonna lay down for starters, now c’mon.” Joel helped you up and walked you to the bed. “Feel better?” “A little.” You whimpered. “I promise I will make you feel better.” He said in his soft twang. He kissed your forehead before sprinting back to the bathroom to soak another towel in freezing cold water. “Warning, its gonna be real cold.” You watched as he gingerly shifted each breast to fully cover every inch of your chest. “Let that sit there and I’ll be right back.” He began to sprint towards the door when you stopped him. “Where are you going?” “I’m gonna go call Dr. Carson from the craft room. I’ll just be down the hall.” “Please don’t leave.” Your voice was not only laced with defeat, but with desperation. It pulled at Joel’s heartstrings badly. “Darlin’, I know you’re in pain now, but maybe the doc has some pain meds or they found another pump.” He expressed. His doe eyes gave you one last look. Your silence was his response to go.

As he walked down the hall to their ham radio, Joel thought about what would happen if there actually was no other pump. The medicine was only temporary; it’d only mask her issues until it wore off. He heard you request that they be cut off, but what if it actually came to something like that; surgery? The only other time you were ever meant to have surgery was at the Firefly hospital, St. Mary’s. Joel’s fists subconsciously tightened at the thought of you being on an operating table for something that wasn’t yet life threatening. What if Carson had never done a procedure like that before? What if you bled out? Then, another disturbing thought popped into his head. The doctor, assumingly a bit younger than himself, would probably try to manually pump her while sedated before deciding on a procedure. Another man’s hands on your chest, kneading and massaging them. Joel’s mind snapped out of it when you began to moan and whimper. His own hands, out of muscle memory, had already turned on the radio and tuned to the infirmary’s frequency.

“Carson!” He let go of the button as he frantically waited for a response. “Neil!” He tried again. “Son of a bitch” He whispered under his breath. Joel contemplated whether he should make a run for it down to the infirmary or not. “Can I help you?” Another, younger, man’s voice responded. “Where’s Carson?” “He’s in surgery right now and we just started. Is this urgent?” “Yes. Listen, this is Joel Miller and—” “I know who you are.” “My wife, she’s in severe pain.” “Is she dying?” “She’s pregnant!” “Is she in labor?” “No, but—” “You need to understand, there’s not many of us and it's all hands on deck for this surgery. I’m sorry.” “Listen, do y'all have a breast pump?" The man on the other line sighed as if he was too busy for this. "I don't think so. We did, but some couple checked it out already. The scavenging groups already know to be on the lookout for more." "Nothing?" Joel exclaimed desperately. “Sir, I will let Dr. Carson know about your situation post op, but he needs to focus. He hasn’t done a ruptured appendix since before. In the meantime, I will send someone to drop off some painkillers; something strong. Hopefully that will help until we can make it over.” Joel let out a weary sigh as he wiped a hand across his face. “Thank you.” He had no choice but to accept the reality. He dreaded going back to tell you the news, so he took his time heading downstairs to put some ice in a bowl. “Is he coming?” You asked when Joel finally arrived at the bedroom door. He brought his eyes up to meet yours. They were apologetic as he shook his head.

Joel knew something had to happen and it was now or never. You felt the bed sink as he laid on the other side of you. He sat up, hovering over you as much as he could and pulled back the damp towel. Your skin was less red, which Joel figured was a good thing. He reached his arm back to the end table beside the bed and grabbed a few cubes of ice. You watched as his veiny hands slid them up and down your skin. He would start up top, then slowly rub them in circular motions almost down to your nipples. Your skin was still very warm, so the ice wasn’t uncomfortable. As calloused as his were, the ice hardly affected his bare skin either. Your eyes were closed with your head laid back against the pillow as you tried to focus on relief. The melted beads of water dripped off the tip of your nipple onto your belly. Joel salivated, turned on by the extremely tempting thought to lick them off, but ultimately knew it was not the time. He even held back a deep moan that built up in his throat as he began to eye fuck you.

A faint knock barely pulled Joel’s concentration. “I think I heard someone at the door.” His voice came out low, almost raspy. “Here,” He grabbed your hand, leaving a chaste kiss on the palm before laying it on top of the ice that he left on your chest. “Keep going for me. That’d better be your medicine…”. Joel swung the door open and only found a cloth tied up like a pouch by his feet. Opening it, he found 3 oval, white pills and a note: Acetaminophen. Take one every 8-12 hours. This should hold her. He brought them upstairs with a glass of water. Your eyes opened when he entered the room. Your wet hands pushed yourself up into a seated position. “Easy.” Joel warned warmly. “They melted.” “I’ve got more in this bowl for you.” “I like it better when you do it.” Joel smirked deviously. “I liked it better when I did it too. Now, how’re you feelin’? The pain.” “They still feel so heavy, but the pain isn’t as bad anymore. My skin is a little numb.” “Good, I reckoned we’d try cold instead since the hot towels were making my baby cry. I’ve got some pain killers for you too. This should last you the rest of the day.” He handed you the pill and water.

After a few moments, you scooched down to lay back and Joel took a couple more cubes of ice in his hands and repeated the earlier motions until they melted too. His hands stayed there against your skin. He felt the knots that clogged your ducts and began kneading them out in every direction.

Within the hour, the two of you felt the difference; The knots were dissipating. Trying something different, he cupped each breast in his palms, practically engulfing them. The pads of his fingers slid up and down your stretch marks, dragging your nipples between them. You hissed at the overstimulation rather than the previous stinging burn. Joel whispered sweet nothings in that Texan drawl that you fell in love with. He increased the pressure once you gave him the ok. A faintly audible moan of relief escaped your lips as a bead of milk began to form. Joel watched as it grew bigger until gravity allowed it to fall, like the melted ice, onto the back of his hand. He kept up his pace. Various consistencies leaked out until it became a steady trickle. His fingers moved down and began to knead your nipple with his thumbs, lubricating them in hopes that it would soften the calluses. They perked up at his touch. His hands began to cramp up a while ago, but the progress encouraged him to continue for a bit longer.

Joel abruptly stopped to reposition himself on the bed and give his hands a break. Laying on his side, he propped himself up with one hand and gently grasped the same breast with the other. Thinking he just needed a new angle to get comfortable, you finally let your eyes close to focus on the pending relief.

Joel finally looked at you and found your face to be serene. It gave him the confidence to play on his previous thoughts. He gently lifted your soft breast and licked the underside curve until his tongue met your nipple. The pad of it applied pressure flat onto the perked tip until he heard you hiss again. His lips, then, fully wrapped around it. He stayed there like that for a moment, barely moving his tongue around you to give you a chance to adjust to the new sensation.

The feeling shot ripples of pain and pleasure through your body. You hardly moved, opting to stare straight up at the ceiling. As if given permission, Joel’s tongue began to circle your nipple more tightly. He watched your fingers grip the covers beneath you.

The flow of warm liquid was new to him. Instinctively, he let it slide down his throat. Joel would be lying if he said that it didn’t taste a bit sweet. He had long become accustomed to drinking his coffee black since acquiring beans was a luxury all on its own, but it reminded him of his favorite brand of creamer from before the outbreak. It brought his mind back to when things were normal. It was a comfortable and cozy feeling. He couldn’t help but feel weird about the connection that his brain was making, but he also couldn’t help this sort of primal urge for more; more nostalgia, more of you.

Joel was a mess or at least he was about to be. The sound of your whimpers and moans unleashed a flood of arousal to his cock. He realized that milk drunkenness was a real thing when it began to sneak up on him. If he wasn’t careful to keep some semblance of sobriety, he’d find himself making a mess in his pants in no time.

Between the rush of blood down south and the flow of milk down his throat, his body was becoming flushed with heat. He wanted to strip down right there and then, if not to relieve his own pressure but to tease you with his tip. He willed himself not to, however, because you still needed relief. He needed to focus on you not him.

The heat of his breath on your skin added to your own haziness. He had every intention of sucking you dry before moving on to the other, but he needed a breather. He didn’t realize that his beard was slightly wet until he rested his chin on the space between your breasts. You brought your fingers up to linger through his hair.

“Look at me.” Joel panted, reaching up to tilt your head down. “How you feelin’, darlin’?” A medley of breathless whimpers was all you could muster as a response. Your mind was already mush and you wanted to keep it that way. The pain of the other breast was almost nonexistent; almost. Joel smirked. “Can you handle more?” He rubbed the side of your thigh as you nodded. “Say it.” “Yes.”

Expecting him to go straight to the other breast, he sat up and pulled his sweatshirt over his head and tossed it on the floor. Next, he slid your panties down your thicker thighs and let it fall in the same direction. He used his knee to spread your legs before splaying his fingers across your thighs to get a good grasp on them. With a little more aggression than he meant, Joel pulled your entire body down the bed so you could lay flat. Sliding a hand underneath the small of your back, he lifted you up just enough to place a couple of pillows under you for support. He, then, disappeared past where you could see and tucked his head between your thighs. You could hardly run your fingers through his hair in this position, but he easily managed to reach one hand up to grope your other breast.

He dragged his tongue flat across the length of your lower lips, settling onto the bud of nerves at the top. His other hand was preoccupied with making sure your legs stayed wide open for him. They always had a penchant for snapping shut around him, something he usually enjoyed. He knew his work was more sloppy when that happened, allowing himself to succumb to the mind swimming pleasure of being pussy drunk. That night, however, he wanted to focus on you more than revel in his own satisfaction.

He continued to massage your engorged breast with your nipple rolling in between the tips of his fingers. Your clit revealed itself more as he blew cold air on it, giving him permission to take it completely into his mouth. His tongue swirled and sucked in a quick, continuous motion. He squeezed your nipple between his fingers harder, making you arch your back, until the dam broke. Enough of the clots had passed and now milk was streaming. A scream escaped your lips as you began to transition from pain to pure pleasure.

The motion of his tongue slowed, much to your dismay. As swiftly as he could, he switched spots. Your clit only ached and throbbed for a few moments before it found comfort between his slick and calloused fingers. Like your nipples, he squeezed and rolled.

Above, he continued to suck you dry like his life depended on it and it kind of did now that it was no longer a trickle. Beads of your creamy white dribbled through his beard and down his neck. You began to feel overstimulated before even reaching release. All you wanted as relief from the pressure, but you had to tap his shoulder to beckon him up and give you a break. What you saw in his eyes when they locked on to your was pure, feral lust. Despite his mouth now only hovering over your breasts, he allowed his fingers to continue. His eyes silently dared you to tell him to stop. Your hips continued to buck up into his hand. He adored the look on your face as you took him so well. The way your body reacted to his aroused him so much that he couldn't help but focus back onto his own building pressure. Joel repositioned himself a bit, straddling your one leg between his two and started to grind his hips up and down. The relief was minimal as he preferred to be inside you. He also preferred to be naked. The denim rubbing against your skin made you notice that he was still clothed from the waist down. Gently, you pushed him off, earning yourself the famous “Joel Glare”, something he couldn't help giving you as he didn't appreciate the immediate build up of pressure again. His eyes quickly softened and he felt a bit guilty as he picked up on your intentions when you began to unbuckle his jeans.

Joel fought the urge to help since it took you a moment, but opted to just enjoy the show as your fingers adorably fumbled over each other in anticipation. They gingerly brushed across the trail of dark hair on his lower stomach with all of your attempts. Still straddling your left thigh, he bit his lip at the sight. Finally undone, Joel took over to quickly get them all the way off, briefs included. When his cock sprung free, you saw that he’d already made a mess of himself with precum steadily dribbling out like a faucet not quite turned off. At that moment, you didn’t know what you wanted more, to take as much of him in your mouth as you could or guide him to your still wet cunt.

Luckily, he made the decision for you. “Eyes here.” He smirked, wanting your full attention. “Are you ready for me?” You laid back and nodded your head. “What'd I say? I need to hear that pretty, sexy voice of yours.” This was the most intimate he’d been with you in several months and his feelings were all coming to a head. “Yes! I need you so bad right now, please!” You desperately exclaimed. He lowered himself close to your ear for just a moment. "Your wish has always been my command, baby girl."

Abruptly, Joel turned you onto your side and threw aside the pillows. He replaced them as your support, allowing your body to lean back towards his. You felt the hair on his chest brush against your back. He slid his arm around your chest to pull you in closer. His fingers rolled between your nipple to milk out the last of it. Your insides were throbbing around nothing and you needed him to fill you, feel you; to know that what your body was doing was not of your own accord, but by his. All of your worries and self conscious thoughts were long gone. You didn’t care anymore; you were just horny for him.

He proceeded still with a bit of caution despite picking up on your body language, afraid you'd suddenly recoil from him. He could let himself go feral and fuck you into oblivion from behind, but thought this was a better position to start with; the two of you could always do work your way up to that later. With one hand slid between your thighs, he lifted your leg up. With his other, he stroked his cock a few more times to get it good and slick. It twitched with anticipation as he lined it with your entrance.

Joel couldn’t help but release a low, guttural moan right in your ear just after the tip slid in. He wanted to cum so bad already and he didn’t even have the pleasure to be fully inside you yet. You didn’t even give him a moment to gather his bearings before you scooched backwards, sheathing him further inside. Your walls barely fluttered against him. He released, coating every inch of them in ropes of cum. Just like he did to you, you milked him dry. You kept a vice grip on him as your walls still pulsed to bring your own release even as you felt him soften. You forgot how amazing it felt to be so stuffed and full.

Over and over, he huffed your name through breaths. His voice was deep and raspy. His hand struggled to find purchase on your body, not wanting to hurt you, so he could redirect his overstimulation. You felt his breath panting in your ear as he aggressively cupped your inner thigh.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He repeated as he finally began to come down. He peppered wet kisses behind your ear lobe. “Hmm?” Off in your own world. “I just need a moment to catch up. Then, we’ll finish. I promise.” “Take your time.” You said, feeling pretty relaxed none-the-less. Joel peaked over and watched as you tried to finish riding the wave to get yourself off.

You untangled your legs from his and repositioned yourself for better reach of your clit all with your eye closed. It amazed you how much you no longer cared about how you looked. All you wanted was to cum and you were fine if he didn’t get you there that time. You would make sure that he made it up to you later. He watched as your back arched up off the bed as much as it could despite being weighed down by your belly. Breathy whimpers escaped your lips. Your legs stiffly straightened while your toes curled as you found what you’d been looking for. The way you looked, the way you sounded; it was an experience Joel was privileged to behold and it quickly aroused him all over again.

Between your and his cum, you felt so filthy that you didn’t even want to move. Joel was too engrossed in gazing at you, even minutes after you caught your breath. He was usually punctual about aftercare, but still he laid there next to you. Without even turning to meet his gaze, your hand reached out to find his partially flaccid cock and began to gently play with it. Your goal wasn’t to get it back up just yet, but to just be blissfully intimate. His eyes followed your hand and watched you make contact. He hissed a bit when your nails dragged across his sensitive length.

“Jesus woman, what are you doin’ to me?” He asked. “What are you doing to me?” You retorted with the same question with a giggle. “God, you're so beautiful." His low, roughly velvet voice stated lovingly. "Stop." You blushed with a shy grin which made him smile widely. "I must not be complimenting you enough if you still don't feel good about taking them." You shied away playfully by sliding away to the other side of the bed. Joel immediately scooched over to follow you, leaving his body flush against yours to spoon. "You never did that before.” Joel quipped in reference to masturbating in front of him. “Yes I have.” "Not with me. I never saw you touch yourself...like that. You usually wait for me to get my bearin's so I take care of you proper." "I do wait for you but I do also touch myself when you're not around." "Why didn't I know this?" "You jealous you're hands aren't the only one's touching me?" You joked. "Yes ma'am I am when you put it like that." "My hands are the next best things when you're not around. But if it's any consolation, I imagine they're yours." "You better be." He replied coyly. "But if it's any consolation to you, Darlin', I'll be around much more often, so you won't be needin' your imagination." He pinched your chin gently and turned your head to face him, taking your lips into his. It was a loving, drawn out sort of kiss. "How're ya feelin'? If you need me to go back in and...um...relieve some pressure for you," Joel cocked his brow and shrugged. "I'll take good care of you. And I don't want you gettin' all shy about it neither." He gingerly groped your breasts from behind. You turned around in his arms and cupped his face with your hand. “I think there's still some left for you to take care of but they don't hurt anymore. You did make me feel better just like you promised you would.” You leaned in for a kiss. If you weren’t completely grounded in that moment, you would have missed his bottom lip tremble a bit. The movement of your legs immediately reminded you of the mess that both of you made. Joel heard the faint, tacky sound and whispered. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll get us cleaned up.” He began to roll away when you put your hand on his chest. “No, I’ll get up. I have to pee anyway.” “Nah, I’ma get up.” A grunt escaped his lips as he sat up. “Joel….” “I never made you clean up before and I sure as shit ain’t gon’ start makin’ you do it now.” His features softened and his voice deepened as he leaned down to reach your lips. “Am I understood?” You smirked. “Yes, sir.” He pecked your lips before slipping out of bed completely naked. You listened to the water run from the ensuite. Anticipation grew within you, as if it was your first time, as you waited. Joel clicked his tongue, announcing his return. “Dagum, you’re a fucking sight, you know that?” The left corner of his lips curled up as he gazed at how the sheets draped around your body.

Tenderly, he pulled the sheets away, spread your legs further apart and sat between them. Using two fingers, he circled your entrance with the soothing cloth. Your faint mewling did not miss his ears.

In a clean transition, Joel removed the cloth from the equation. His middle and ring finger took one more lap around your labias before sliding inside of you. His thumb kneaded your still sensitive bud, causing a crescendo to begin building. Almost like a spasm, your hips bucked erratically in retaliation to his thick fingers going in deeper to find your spot. It hadn’t been touched in so long, you forgot how quickly he could find it; how well he knew your body. They slid in further, knuckles deep. The metal of his wedding band cooled your hot flesh. Your walls were clenching tight around his fingers. Always obliging, he went faster when you begged. He made sure to make you do that first, however. The way you begged so sweetly went straight to his cock and in almost no time, it was engorged and at attention again. He fit a third finger from his other hand inside you to gather enough slick to slide onto his shaft. Between both hands, Joel tried to keep an even rhythm, but knew he was getting sloppy. Your walls were beginning to contract erratically too. He knew it was time for everything to come to a head.

“Alright, you ready for me?” Joel asked? “I’ve been ready! Joel, I'm gonna cum." Joel couldn’t help but chuckle at your bluntness. “Not yet, Darlin'. Get on your hands and knees.” He watched the shock on your face and couldn’t tell if it was from his fingers abruptly leaving you empty or because you hadn’t explored that position in a while. “C’mon baby,” He helped you up and around. “Ass up, front and center, now.” He positioned himself behind you, his warm hands massaging your ass before sliding them down your back to push you into the pillow. “I ain’t hurtin’ you, am I?” “Uh, uh.” You shook your head against the pillow. Your legs were snapped shut squeezing, not wanting your clit to die back down. He slapped your right cheek. “What was that?” “No!” You yipped in return. “You’re not hurting me.” “Gon’ tell me if I do, you hear me?” Joel could’ve sworn you called him daddy after you answered yes. It was all muffled by the pillow, but it was still enough for him.

He grabbed as much of your ass as he could in his hands. He loved how supple they felt in his hands. He gave a harsh squeeze as a test, to which you moaned. He stopped himself from spreading your legs apart and instead eased his cock in between your thighs. You felt how it just rubbed against your clit. Joel could’ve cum right there and then, but wanted to be inside you. That was his ultimate goal; his prize. He’d be damned if he let that opportunity slip again.

With one hand gripping your hips and the other gripping your hair, he eased himself into you. It didn’t take long for him to gradually pick up the pace. His own hips rocked into yours harder and harder, waiting for you to protest but you never did. Your entire body rippled like a wave to his movement. It was the most intense amount of pressure you’d ever felt in your life between feeling like you had a bowing ball stuck inside you and your husband filling you up.

“Mmm” Joel grunted. “focus, now.” Your rhythm was becoming erratic again. His one hand was now splayed across your lower back. The muscles and veins in his arms flexed as his other gripped onto you tighter. “Yes! Like that, baby. Rock back into me.” “Oh fuck, Joel, please.” You exclaimed breathlessly. “Please what?” His excitement increased when you started to beg. “It's too much.” He began to slow down. “Does it hurt, baby? Want me to stop?” A bit of guilt flashed across his eyes. “Don’t stop. Don’t slow down. It just…I feel so much. I feel like I’m about to explode but like a good explosion.” “That’s the goal, Darlin'. Matter of fact, don’t lose that feelin’ ‘cause I need you to cum for me. Right now.” “No…” You tried to catch your own breath. “No?” He almost took offense. “I want to feel you first.” You intentionally squeezed around his dick harder. Joel bit his lip and grunted as he fought against his own climax. He almost had to laugh through the pain of holding back. “I don’t think you’ve ever told me no before.” “Guess there’s a first for everything. Please?” Your voice was so innocent; how could he deny you? “You know what you gotta do then, right?” “Whatever you want.” “Call me that again.” “Call you what?” “What you said in the pillow there. Thought I didn’t hear you?” “I wanted you to hear me, daddy.” “Fuck me…What am I gonna do with you?” Joel edged himself as much as he could. He wanted to ride the build up just a moment longer. You teased him, saying it again, knowing that you had him in the palm of your hand. “You like that, huh?" “Maybe.” His brows furrowed in concentration as he tried his best. He blew air out between puckered lips to try and steady himself, but it was of no use. His glass overfilled and he had no choice but to let it spill. “I’m cumming, baby. Fuck!”

Though his movements were faster, his hips snapped erratically into you. He didn’t care about rhythm when his mind was going black due to the vice grip you had on him. All his body could focus on was the explosion of hot, sticky cum uncontrollably flooding out of him. You bellowed out this beautiful whine that made his dick, already a sloppy mess, twitch. His hips slowed down as your grip around him loosened. All but the head slid out. He wanted to stay in a little longer when he collapsed onto your back, but between both of your slick, it wasn’t easy.

Not wanting your back to ache, he allowed himself only a moment of rest before sliding out and straightening up. Joel’s eyes caught the translucent cream sliding down your leg. You felt his tongue lap it all the way back up to your entrance. Your weak legs trembled at the touch. “Whoa, steady now.” His hands held your hips before guiding your body to lay back down on your side. While up, he grabbed the cloth and quickly cleaned the two of you up again.

He couldn’t wait to get back into bed with you after tossing the cloth in the sink. Spooning you from behind, his body fit around yours like a glove. You let him wrap his arms around you and pull you in closer.

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