#ive never been able to be comfortable w anyone ive always had to plan every word i say w such intensity most of the time everyone would hav

[tamagotchikgs]

realizing that for the first time ever being w my bf has given me the chance to actually just , kinda be myself without it feeling So wrong. like i am a nervous lil freak n me not being anything else is somehow ok. and not just used as a joke or like yeah thats the freak dont talk to them dont worry about them like my friends irl always did w me. even my therapist likes to ignore core parts of me, whenever i try to bring it up she always shuts me down with the "im sorry u feel that way" and changes the subject. and like i still want to be better n i still have support for changing n growing but it's like for the first time i can actually plant myself down in the ground instead of stretch myself thin trying to fit into everything im not. so maybe i do have a chance. maybe this is where i was always going wrong maybe this is what i could never reach

[kookingtae]

falling into you (pt. 8) PREVIEW

pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3 | pt 4 | pt 5 | pt 6 | pt 7

→scenario: Jungkook’s innocence is like a breath of fresh air in your wild life, and though you know you’re toxic for him, you just can’t seem to stay away.

→genre: college au, slow burn, mutual pining, shy/nerd jk + bad girl oc (mature themes)

→a/n: so i’m not finished with pt 8 yet, since it’s such a climactic chapter it’s taking a bit longer than i anticipated unfortunately BUT i dont want u guys to think ive forgotten about it!!! i know u all are waiting so patiently, and i cannot thank you enough from the bottom of my heart <3 i hope this preview keeps you excited for what’s to come!

Jungkook could never face Y/N again.

God, how could he, knowing that he’d not only finished in five minutes like a pubescent teenager, but also in his pants while she was on top of him?

Embarrassment didn’t even begin to describe the mortification he felt. He’d never wanted the earth to swallow him whole as much as he did in that moment. Sure, he was aware of his slight social anxiety, the way he was constantly looking to bolt from uncomfortable situations—but this was different entirely. This was new territory for him; he’d never done anything remotely sexual with someone else, period, much less with the girl who hung the stars, moon, and sun in his eyes. What was he supposed to do? There was nowhere to escape to in his own bedroom, no running away from his problems that made him uncomfortable. No, he had to stand there with his head down and his crotch dripping wet while he practically begged her to leave. He had never been so ashamed of himself. He had never felt so pathetic.

But then Y/N surprised him like she never failed to do: she’d given him reassurance, another kiss even, while telling him that she actually enjoyed the experience—went so far as to say it was the best in her life. Now he knew she was lying to spare his feelings. Of all the men Y/N had been with, there was no way a virgin cumming untouched in his pants was the best of them. She was cruel to make him believe otherwise, to give him false hope.

He wouldn’t allow himself to think any differently. He couldn’t allow himself to get hurt.

Which was why he made it his mission to avoid her at all costs—something he’d gotten very good at over the past few months, and the past few weeks, specifically.

But in the same way he’d learned from the patterns of her daily routine and used them as a means to remain hidden, she’d also learned his and utilized them to her advantage as well. It was the only explanation as to how he was turning a corner inside the art building (about to take the rear exit, since she usually waited for him out front) and suddenly she was standing right in front of him.

He instantly skidded to a halt, heart rate shooting to astronomical levels and eyes widening on their own accord. “Y-Y/N,” he stuttered out involuntarily, the sight of her causing every single detail of their time spent together to come rushing back to him like a tidal wave ready to wipe him out.

As if he needed another excuse to think about the moment they shared that had changed him forever, about the way her moans sounded in his ear and her body felt on his lap and the way she touched his cheek, his neck, the way her lips felt on his skin, god help him—

Already he could feel the beginnings of a blush start to rise to his suddenly hot cheeks, and he cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to the other to keep from springing yet another boner in front of her.

He slid his books in front of his waist, just in case.

While she usually approached him with the natural ease of self-confidence and charm, today she seemed worried, unsure. She chewed at her lower lip—something he didn’t think she really ever did, as he would certainly remember the way it stirred within him—and looked up at him beneath delicate lashes that framed her eyes.

He didn’t have it in him to keep from outright staring at her beauty.

“I… I missed you,” she finally murmured, and he felt the breath physically whoosh from his lungs to join his butterfly-filled stomach all the way at the floor.

It had been a few days since he’d last seen her, since she’d been in his room that night where they opened up about their past and confessed how they truly felt about one another and shared the most life-altering moment he’d ever experienced. He missed her too, god he missed her. He missed everything about her the moment she left his side—would picture her face in his mind as soon as she left his field of vision. But for some reason unknown to him, she was too kind to him, spared his feelings despite knowing what little experience he had. There was no way he’d be able to satisfy a girl—mentally, physically, emotionally—who could have anyone she wanted. Perhaps she pitied him. Either way, if she wouldn’t put a stop to it, then he would.

Or so he’d try, but alas, nothing ever went according to his plans where Y/N was concerned. And here she was, three simple words mumbled into existence and he couldn’t even remember his own name, much less why he’d been trying to fight this.

She seemed to expect he would say nothing—either that or she’d grown used to his silence—because before he had enough sense in him to even think about responding, she was speaking again. “How have you been?”

The question was asked with deliberate, genuine curiosity and concern; she really wanted to know if he was okay, how he was handling things after what had transpired between them. And no matter how hard Jungkook tried to fight this, fight her, fight himself, he was only human.

And so he stopped fighting.

“I– I missed you too,” he breathed out, and it was like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders and relocated to his gut. He tensed at his confession, mentally berated himself for his words even though she’d been the one to say them first. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, what with the way his throat locked up.

Though the second he witnessed the smile that sprang to her tantalizing lips, he felt as light as a feather floating in the breeze.

“You did?” Her eyes lit up, sparkled under the fluorescent hallway lights that still managed to capture all of her beauty despite the unflattering lighting. He didn’t think it was possible for any scenery, not even that of a dull and stuffy university building, to make her appear any less breathtaking than she always was.

“I was so worried after I left last week,” she continued without prompt. The mention of his premature finish had him stiffening in dread, though she didn’t let enough silence fester between her words for the anxiety to claw its way up his throat. “I didn’t want you to beat yourself up. I’ve noticed you tend to be too hard on yourself sometimes.” She glanced up at him with the hint of a sheepish grin dancing on her lips.

Her expression said it all: that’s an understatement.

And this shocked him to his core, because she was absolutely right.

Just how well had she gotten to know him in their time spent together over the last few months? And how? And why?

The last question would always boggle him until the end of time; he would never understand why she was interested in him. Why was he the one she had feelings for, when she claimed she never had feelings for anybody? Though he supposed he could ask himself the same thing: why did he feel things for Y/N that he had never felt for anyone else in his life? And the answer was quite simple, really: because it was her.

He didn’t know what about himself was so special to make him stand out in her mind, and as a result he still couldn’t help but be skeptical, even after her confession. But it wasn’t like he had any choice in the matter on what to do with that skepticism—not when his heart kept leading him back to her.

At some point after her accurate description of the inner turmoil that’s been plaguing his mind, his mouth had fallen open slightly. He couldn’t hide the surprise from his face even if he tried; he was speechless.

Y/N gazed up at him, not seeming in any hurry to rush the conversation along, and for that he was grateful. He’d never met somebody so patient and understanding before—just another reason to make Jungkook’s heart flutter with endearment. And it was no secret to himself anymore that he yearned to be in Y/N’s presence for as long as possible whether he was aware of it or not.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, you know,” she continued as if she could read his mind, and that was when he realized the way his eyes avoided hers and the fact that his skin was the color of tomatoes must’ve been dead giveaways. “I meant it when I said that was the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced.”

Jungkook balked, practically choking on his spit at her forward, shameless words. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to the way she spoke her mind so openly without any fear holding her back. She’d gone through so much in her childhood, in her life—Jungkook not even knowing the half of it, he’s sure—and yet she was still so strong and brave and everything he wasn’t. He couldn’t help but admire the person she was today, despite all the prejudice and judgment he’d held for her when they first met.

He realized now that he was too quick to judge her, to write her off based on rumors and first impressions. He realized now that he was too quick to do that to a lot of people. Just how long had he closed himself off from others based on his skewed, morally righteous perspective? His whole life, if he had to say.

The epiphany that she was physically prying open his third eye with a crowbar, that he was now self aware and changing for the better for her—for himself—hit him all at once.

It was the most frightening sensation of his life, the introvert in him wanting to crawl back into his shell where it was safe and comfortable and dull. But deep down he knew it was also for the best.

“W-why?” He heard himself asking before he knew what he was doing. “Why do you keep saying that?”

He had to know why she insisted on standing by her statement that his mishap was not only hot, but the hottest ever. Why did she insist on lying to him, on giving him false hope? She spoke her mind in every other situation, or at least that’s what he assumed; why did she insist on sparing his feelings in this incident? Was he really that pathetic? Did she pity him that much?

She simply blinked at him once, twice, before: “Because I really like you, Jungkook.”

As if in slow motion, you could visibly see his eyes expand to the size of saucers at your words.

You would’ve found the sight comical had the situation been any different. But the way he continued to disbelieve that you could have feelings for him, that you could be attracted to everything about him despite who he was, despite his inexperience—it made your heart break in your chest. You now knew from where this inferiority complex stemmed—he’d told you himself about his family situation—and if anything, it made you want to rebuild his confidence that much more. He needed to see himself the way you saw him.

But you also didn’t want to overwhelm him, either. And you were more than willing to walk that fine line with Jungkook no matter how long it took.

“So are we on for a study sesh tonight?” You continued nonchalantly, wanting to return things to normalcy for him as much as possible before he ran away mid-conversation as he’d done so many times before. You wanted to ease his self-doubt so he’d stop avoiding you—like he’d been doing the past few days—as much as possible.

Jungkook blinked as if trying to adjust from the whiplash of your subject-change. “U–uh… if you want?”

“Of course I want to,” you replied without missing a beat, not caring how desperate you seemed so long as he didn’t question where you stood. You took a step forward, unable to help the intangible, magnetic draw you felt to him as you gazed up at him beneath your lashes. “That is… if you want to.”

You watched in agony as a gulp slowly raked its way down his throat.

“I–” his voice was hoarse before he cleared his throat. “I uh, can’t tonight. I have to study for math.”

You weren’t even sure how one studied for math, but you weren’t about to question the expert. “That’s fine! We could… do it tomorrow?”

Jungkook chewed at his bottom lip, an action he always did when he was internally struggling with something before he finally nodded his head yes in a slow, hesitant manner. “N–not in my room though,” he added as an afterthought, and when your gaze snapped to his he had a pleading expression in his eyes.

A mix of emotions rolled through you. On one hand, you were horrified at the possibility that he thought the only reason you wanted to study again was so that you could get in his pants. Which—okay, you’re not going to lie, you would love to have a repeat of last week—but that definitely wasn’t why you wanted to see him. He meant more to you than just a means to get off, which was what you’d thought of flings in the past. You didn’t want him to be just a fling, though.

You didn’t want to think of the meaning behind that fact right now, either.

But on another hand, you understood where Jungkook was coming from. Maybe it was because you’d studied him enough over the past few months to learn some of his behavior (for once you finally saw the appeal of studying), so you knew that level of intimacy was probably extremely overwhelming for Jungkook and he needed a moment to step back. Hell, it was even overwhelming for you, and that was saying something. Never had your senses, your heart, your body, your soul been attacked like that with such an abundance of emotional pleasure, and you hoped with all your might that Jungkook was feeling the same—that that was the reason he needed a breather from being alone with you, and not the fact that he just didn’t want to be intimate with you.

Unless…

Oh god, had you misread the situation entirely? Had Jungkook hated everything about that night?

Suddenly you were feeling sick to your stomach. The thought of you misunderstanding his confession—or worse, him changing his mind completely—made you want to escape to a dark and desolate stairwell and cry in the hidden nooks of the windowsill again; the irony that not only would you be pulling a Jungkook by escaping mid-conversation, but that the stairwell was also the place the two of you had your first real conversation, wasn’t lost on you.

“M–my roommate is staying in, studying for finals.” The sound of Jungkook’s voice was like a breath of fresh air whooshing into your lungs after almost drowning underwater. You blinked out of your inner turmoil, focusing on him. “So he’ll be there, i–in my room, this whole week.”

And suddenly your heart was warming with relief, hope, appreciation, like flowers blooming in the spring after a torrential downpour. Just when you thought you had him figured out, this enigma of a boy continued to surprise you. It was usually easy for you to hide your emotions—you’d been doing so for years, always wore a mask around others so that they couldn’t see the real you—and yet somehow, Jungkook must’ve sensed them anyway. He sensed the doubt, the pain, the fear that you vowed never to cage you crawling up your throat and threatening to consume you whole, and he eased it. He didn’t want you to misunderstand him. He wanted to reassure you.

If anything, that was just a testament to how Jungkook had broken down your walls—how much you had let him in, how well he was able to read the emotions you wanted to keep hidden. Your mask had begun to break, the real you showing through the cracks, and Jungkook was still standing here. He hadn’t run away.

You fought the urge to grab him and slam your lips onto his.

“Not in your room, then,” is all you managed to breathe out beneath a fluttering smile.

[starglow-xx]

retrouvaille

nakajima atsushi x f!reader

fandom: bungou stray dogs

content: hurt comfort, fluff

warning! : mentions of abuse

type of work: one-shot

synopsis: he left the orphanage, and that meant he had to leave you too; fortunately, this time, it seems like the universe was on your side

a/n: this is kinda self indulgent bc ive been feeling kinda down lately...?? and this has been sitting in my drafts for a while now and i havent posted in a while so killing three birds w/ one stone ig

the word retrouvaille is a french noun...

The moment you stepped foot into the armed detective agency, heterochromia eyes met your (e/c) ones.

You notice several agents talking and walking over to assist you, but you drown them out only having focus on the gray haired male ten feet away from you.

Said male takes a small step forward with uncertainty and disbelief laced in his voice.

“(y-y/n)...?” 

At the sound of your name, your eyes immediately begin to water and with pure relief in your voice, you softly sob his name; the name of the boy who comforted you when you were both still in that wretched place.

“Atsushi...”

With all hesitation gone, Atsushi runs over to you shoving through his surprised and confused coworkers and wraps his arms tightly around you.

The force of the hug causes the both of you to stumble and harshly crash to the ground beneath you.

But the two of you didn’t care.

In his arms was a person Atsushi thought he’d never be able to see again.

In his arms was the same girl who snuck him food from the kitchens, the girl who stole medical supplies from the infirmary to treat his wounds, to take care of him when he was sick, and the girl who received punishment after punishment for insisting on staying with him inside his damn cell.

You gave him happiness in place where he should’ve never been able to receive it.

As if he ever felt like he deserved it in the first place.

You’re too good for him, but yet you still chose him.

You, his sweet and kind, his so very kind, and so very beautiful girlfriend, chose him, the cursed, good for nothing orphan.

The orphanage staff treated you considerably better before the two of you were acquainted, so Atsushi knew he was the problem. That he was the reason why tears would fall onto your beautiful face, why bruises and scars would litter your arms and legs, and why the staff would call you awful, degrading nicknames about you and or your virtue.

He had always thought that he wasn’t good for you, that he didn’t deserve you, that you could do better, but you stayed by his side regardless of his fears and insecurities, and provided him the strength and comfort he had always been deprived of.

And to his very surprise, he found that you found your own strength and comfort in him.

So he knew that you must of cried for weeks after he was kicked out, that you must’ve been devastated to wake up one morning only to learn that he was gone without a trace.

There wasn’t a single day that he never thought of you.

Atsushi wanted to go back for you, he really did; he wanted to storm into the orphanage with members of the armed detective agency, his new family, right at his tail before eventually reuniting with you.

But he didn’t do that.

Ultimately, he chose to leave you out of the mess that came with his job knowing that you would be eventually targeted and used against him if anyone found out about what he had with you.

So he kept quiet.

No mafioso, government agent, foreign organization, nor agency member had a clue about your connection with him, much less your existence.

He told himself that when things have calmed down by a considerable amount, he would go back and get you, with or without the agency backing him up.

Unfortunately, he knew that time of peace was far from the present.

But to see you, in your beautiful glory, standing at the threshold of the agency? 

His original plan to keep you away from Yokohoma flew out the damn window. 

At the sight of you, his heart did backflips and his legs almost gave out. 

Ignoring the jelly feeling in his legs and the loud pounding of his heart, he raced around the desks and his coworkers—nearly fully crashing into Dazai in the process—to once more engulf you into his arms.

As for you?

When you saw him, you felt like you were going to pass out.

Your legs grew weak, your entire body was shaking, and tears started to fall down your face.

He was here.

He was safe and he was alive.

You mourned his abrupt disappearance from the orphanage and spent most of your time worrying about his well being.

The staff thought you were pathetic, that you sulked and cried over someone who they thought should disappear off the face of the earth.

They could insult and beat you all you want, but you drew the line when it came to Atsushi.

Finally having enough of everything, you planned your escape.

You were patient; you never jumped the gun nor gave anything away. You planned everything to the very last, minute detail, and after a few more months of abuse and waiting, you put your plan into action and left in the dead of night.

Thankfully, a kind old couple took you after you had collapsed in the streets. You worked job after job after job to return everything they had spent on your behalf even after they had told you not to worry about it.

And after another few weeks, you finally caught wind of your lost boyfriend tracking him down to Yokohoma through an old newspaper article.

Knowing your boyfriend, and yourself, you knew that tears would easily escape both of your eyes due to the long duration of your separation, but you weren’t expecting to find yourself crashing onto the floors of the armed detective agency curtesy of Atsushi. 

But, you wouldn’t have it any other way because in your arms was the boy who gave you comfort during the most darkest days in the orphanage, the boy who laid you in his lap or on his stomach stroking your hair so you would fall asleep, and the boy who often threw himself in front of you so you would remain unharmed.

You choked on your sobs as you tightened your own hold on him and they gradually grew louder as you buried your face into the shoulder of his white button up.

Through his own choked sobs and teary eyes, Atsushi gently maneuvered the two of you so that you would be lying on his stomach—a familiar position the two of you would lay in back in the orphanage.

He gently stroked his fingers through your hair and softly rubbed your back as he whispered the familiar sweet nothings into your ears.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

“I’m okay, you’re okay, we’re okay...”

“I’m here, just let it all out..”

Overwhelmed with your emotions, his sweet words only started to make you cry more.

You’ve missed him so much.

Your tears easily soaked his both his shirt and his neck, and you tried to speak only for you to choke up. Atsushi simply just started to shush you—as you would to a baby—and placed a kiss to your forehead as he continued to comfortingly stroke your hair and rub your back.

With the both of you off into your own little world, a world consisting only of the two of you, reactions and looks from the Armed Detective Agency went unnoticed.

It didn’t take long for them to realize the kind of relationship you and Atsushi had.

But what surprised them was Atsushi’s behavior.

The young adult they knew tended to be unsure of everything, including himself, and stammered whenever he was nervous.

But the young adult currently in front of them had this new aura of maturity; he didn’t hesitate to touch you or to comfort you, and for the first time they’ve seen in a while, he was sure of himself; he wasn’t nervous at all.

With the amount of comfortability Atsushi had around you, and the tender, loving care he showered you in, it was clear that you certainly were someone special to their tiger.

Your sobs slowly turned to small hiccups, and Atsushi’s face turned to one of pure tranquility and content, having his lover back in his arms.

Although having calmed down, what Atsushi said to you next made you want to start bawling all over again.

“I’m sorry I left you, and I promise I didn’t forget about you,” he whispered softly, “I thought of you every day. I still do. The thought of being able to see you again is what kept me going.”

You buried yourself further into his shoulder as you gripped his white button up in your hands.

“And thanks to the armed detective agency, I’m stronger now. I won’t let anybody hurt you, not anymore. That, I promise you.”

Actually taking a look up from you, Atsushi ended up locking eyes with Dazai, who had a gentle look on his face.

His senior only closed his eyes, tilted his head down softly, and lightly chuckled before opening his brown eyes once more, giving Atsushi a look of approval.

The gray haired teen’s eyes widened slightly as he looked around the room only to be met with similar looks of approval and gentleness from his seniors and coworkers.

He felt his eyes tear up again, but instead let out a relieved sigh as he tightened his hold on you slightly.

“Hey Atsushi...” you softly murmured.

Equally as soft, he answered, “Yes (y/n)?”

“...I love you...”

Your lover smiled before placing another kiss onto your forehead.

“I love you too (y/n)”

At last, the girl he loved was back in his arms, and the boy you loved was back within your reach.

And neither of you were ever going to let each other go again.

and it means, the joy of meeting or finding someone again after a long separation, a rediscovery

as always, reblogs and shares are appreciated! i hope you all stay safe! and just in case nobody told you they loved you today, i love you! you are enough! <3

writing belongs to me! please do not plagiarize! the reblog button is there for a reason

[pascalpanic]

Caffeine Rush: Chapter Seven / Decaf

W/C: 4k

Warnings: language, dirty thoughts, all of the dirty thoughts because Javi is a horndog, male masturbation... general spice. pining that could make a pine cone tremble.

A/N: welcome to pining central, enjoy your stay :) (ps when Steve says “Javier Peña” I need you to read that in the voice of Anthony Mackie going “SEBASTIAN STAN”)

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter || Masterlist

ordinary coffee that has had most of its caffeine removed from it before the beans are roasted.

You are a goddamn test on Javier’s self control. He feels like those biblical stories of men fighting back against temptation to prove themselves to God, except the only thing he has to prove is to himself. To you.

He’s always been enraptured by you, captivated by your smile and laugh but since you went ice skating, he hasn’t been able to get your body out of his mind. The way you fell asleep on him last night, nuzzled in like it was the safest place on earth. He could feel your breasts press into his skin, the warmth of your thigh hiked across his abdomen. If the past week has been some caffeine-induced fever dream, it’s becoming real now. You, a figment of his imagination before, maybe, are all flesh and blood and God, is he desperate for it.

Javier hangs around your apartment when you’re gone at work. He doesn’t have much else to do, considering you’re gone and he knows hardly anything about the city. He watches the daytime television on your couch, usually meanders to the coffee shop for a drink, spends some time there, and returns to the apartment.

He feels like he’s couch-surfing, like he did for a summer in his college years. He feels guilty occupying the space in your home, especially without payment. As he walks to the bathroom, he takes a long glance into your bedroom. The queen-sized bed is mussed, unmade before you left for work. The fitted sheet is pooled in the middle beneath where you sleep, the various blankets tossed about. It looks like the coziest damn thing he’s ever seen, especially after a couple of nights on a couch.

Javier almost thinks about giving in, waiting for you to ask him to sleep in your bed tonight then jumping at the chance. Maybe he will, if he’s tired enough. Maybe he won’t, but maybe he will. He can think of nothing better than the endless whir of the radiator as your perpetually-cold body nuzzles against him, brushes your nose against his bare chest.

It’s been a long time since Javi has fucked anyone, and he’s starting to feel it. He’s a little antsy, and the image of your body, your ass as you ice skate past him, haunts him like a bad dream- or rather some illicit fantasy he knows he shouldn’t be having.

Would you want him yet? You’ve told him you love him, but that was an accident. When he kisses you, you kiss back harder. Hell, you initiated the first kiss. You seem like you’ve been all-in on this relationship, taking things at a rushed pace that Javier certainly doesn’t mind. He spends a lot of the day contemplating that, standing on the tiny balcony of your apartment and smoking a couple of cigarettes.

At this point, he needs a distraction or he’s going to have to take matters into his own hands, quite literally. What better to kill the horny buzz making his head spin than to call Murphy?

The phone is in your bedroom, on the nightstand. Javier dares to sit on the edge of your bed, and actually moans aloud at the plush comfort, the way his ass sinks into it. Goddamn, he’ll have to get one of these. He wants nothing more than to lay back and fall into the bed, wait for you to get home and pound you into the comfortable mattress. But he doesn’t. He stays strong and picks up the phone, dialing the new Murphy residence in Miami.

After a couple of rings, a familiar voice answers. “Murphy’s.”

“Hey, bastard,” Javier chuckles, and he can hear the blonde man’s laughter from across the receiver.

“Javier Peña,” Steve drawls, dragging out the name. “Good to hear your voice, man. You finally come out of a ten-day celebratory drunkenness?”

“Don’t talk to me about binges,” Javier teases, but he smiles a little. He’s missed the man. He’s glad neither of them got in any trouble over the entire Los Pepes situation- God, that feels like ages ago now. It’s hard to believe he’s only been in D.C. what, eleven days? If Steve’s math is right, yeah. “No. I’m in D.C. still, if you can believe it. Just… bored.”

“Oh really?” the man scoffs, leaning against his kitchen counter in Miami with Olivia on his hip. “And why’s that? What are you still doin’ up there anyway? Thought you were goin’ to visit the old man.”

Javier shakes his head. “Plans changed. There’s, uh… there’s a girl.”

Steve lets out a wolf whistle, laughing. “And how much does she charge a night?”

“Not one of those. She works at a coffee shop around here,” he informs him. “She’s… she’s really something. Nothing I ever thought I’d be into. She’s gorgeous, man, and so energetic all the damn time. Seems like she has an IV of coffee from her shop,” he chuckles, looking off into space. He takes a pause. Steve doesn’t speak. “I wanna be with her Steve. I don’t… I don’t know if I can go back.”

He’s silent a little longer. “This is some kind of practical joke, right?” Steve says after a beat, barely holding back a laugh. Never has Javier been so sincere, so real and honest and open. And more specifically, he’s never been like this over a girl. Almost… mushy. Soft. “Tell me more,” he says, hoping the joke will give up.

Javier talks about you, describing every little detail with a grin on his face. He tells Steve about Tie Guy and ice skating and your piece of shit car, how you can spin in circles on the ice and how you remind him of a busy little bee, fluttering about the coffee shop.

Steve is genuinely rendered speechless; a hard thing to do. He blinks down at Olivia then straight ahead at the refrigerator, covered in photos and magnets and drawings. He can’t imagine Javier ever wanting something like this, like what he and Connie have, but he sure sounds like it. “That’s… something. Good for you, Javi,” Steve chuckles, resigning to sincerity. “I’m happy for you.”

Javier grumbles back. “Don’t get too happy. I have to go back to Calí in three weeks. She doesn’t want me to leave… I don’t know what to do, Murph. I can’t bring her with, you know that, but I can’t just leave her here. And I sure as hell can’t quit.”

“You could quit.”

“I’m not going to, how’s that?” Javier huffs and crosses his arms, annoyed by Steve and his goddamn wording loopholes. “I just… fuck. I’m gonna go think about it before she gets back.”

“She comin’ to your hotel? You sure you aren’t paying per night?” He smirks.

Javier’s quiet and Steve isn’t sure what it means until he talks. “I’m, uh, staying at her place. She insisted.”

Steve whistles again. “Damn. You’re whipped, Peña. Well, I’ll let you go. Call again soon. I miss ya, bud,” he tells Javier in a moment of earnesty then hangs the phone back on the receiver, bringing Olivia to her nursery to change her diaper.

Javi sighs and falls backwards on the bed, admiring the way the mattress holds his body compared to the couch. Yeah, he’ll definitely need to sleep in here tonight or he’s going to crack his spine.

The issue will be you. He could handle it on the couch; it was like a soft, adolescent form of love, innocent and warm. Of course, it could still be the same in your bed. But would it? Is there not a different set of implications that come with the two of you sharing a bed?

Snuggling with you on the couch was nice. Wonderful, perfect even. Javier loves falling asleep with you in his arms. But in your bed, arms curled around him, maybe even being his little spoon… that perfect body pressed flush to his own, your soft ass against his groin, your breathing pushing back into his chest… that would be an entirely different thing. And he wants it, he really does, but he isn’t sure he’ll be able to control himself.

He slept like shit the last night, to be honest. You on top of him prevented him from moving, and Javier is an active sleeper. His neck was at an odd angle and his back twisted. His body feels like it did after that fight with Tie Guy. He can’t- wouldn’t- invade your privacy of your bed without you home to give him the go ahead, but he’s so damn tired. Not even the coffee helps.

So Javier indulges in one of life’s little pleasures he rarely gets to experience: a nap. Curled up on his side on the couch, blankets pulled snug around his fetal-positioned body, Javier drifts off to the sound of the noon news on the television.

That’s how you find him when you come home. He’s peacefully asleep, his lips parted and mustache moving with his exhales. Well, he’s clearly alive. That’s good.

You’re not sure how long he’s been asleep, so you leave him, making yourself something to eat in the kitchen. You avoid the living room as you get settled in, changing out of your espresso-stained clothing and into something more comfortable.

When you’re all comfy, makeup removed and a warm sweater on, you sit at the other end of the couch. Javier’s curled into a ball, his feet just inches away from your legs. You hope when he moves, he’ll feel you there and wake. If not, oh well. He deserves the rest.

It’s gray and cloudy outside, and you snuggle into the corner of the couch while reading your worn copy of The Great Gatsby. It’s the one you’ve been re-reading recently, what you were reading that first day Javi wandered into your coffee shop and subsequently your life.

Javi wakes not long later, maybe half an hour, to the sound of your book crinkling. The paperback’s spine crunches with wear, and his eyes flutter open to see you tucked against a pillow. God, you look like an angel, the light from the cloudy day filtering in and illuminating you from the back. Your face is calm and peaceful, focused as your eyes trace the words of F. Scott Fitzgerald. “Hi,” Javier mumbles groggily.

Your expression turns to a smile and you set down the book. “Hey.” You take his legs and drape them across your lap, tracing your fingers across them. “How’d you sleep?”

He groans. “Okay. Neck hurts.”

“That wouldn’t be an issue if you’d just sleep with me,” you sing-song to him, stroking his legs through the comfortable pants he wears. “My bed is super cozy.”

God, does Javier know it. It felt like your love itself when he laid down and the warmth of it swallowed him, practically whole. “Maybe I’ll give in,” he sighs, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “How was work? Sorry I didn’t visit.”

“Boring as always,” you chuckle. “What did you do today?”

Javi frowns as he thinks about it, his brain fogged with sleep. “Not much. Called Murphy, talked a while. He’s doing good.”

“Good,” you nod and smile. “When will I get to meet this elusive Steve?” You ask, softly kneading at his legs through the blanket and frowning as you realize he’s wearing… jeans. “Wait, pause. Are you seriously wearing jeans?” you ask him and laugh, lifting the blanket to confirm what you already suspected.

He frowns defensively, crossing his arms. “Maybe.”

“Why the fuck would you take a nap in jeans, Javi?” You laugh.

Javier looks away, frowning. The stubbornness shows. “I don’t own many comfortable clothes besides what I wear to work, if you haven’t noticed,” he retorts, but you can’t help but giggle. “Plus I thought I’d only be here to get fired.”

You smile at him lovingly and cup his face. “You sweet, stupid workaholic. Let’s go shopping later, get you some cozy stuff.”

Javier warms against your touch but maintains a pout. “I like jeans.”

Rolling your eyes, you huff out a laugh. “Would a pair of sweatpants be detrimental to your wardrobe, Javier?”

“Stop using big words,” he groans. “I’m barely awake.”

-

The large mall is annoying to Javier, full to the brim with last-minute (or maybe prepared, he never holiday-purchases) shoppers. He holds your hand, shooting feisty glares at anyone that dares to bump against his or, god forbid, your side. “Relax,” you tease and squeeze his free hand. The other carries a bag containing two hoodies, three t-shirts, and two pairs of sweatpants. “You’re not on a mission, and you certainly don’t have the knuckles to pitch another fight.”

He looks at his hands and scowls. You’re right. They’re no longer black and blue but faded yellows and greens, a spare bit of purple over the bones. The fight wasn’t that long ago, really, even though it feels like an eternity.

You drag Javier into a favorite shop of yours. He follows you around like a lost puppy while you search through clothes. He even hands you one or two tops he thinks you’d look nice in. You kiss him on the cheek and he dares to smile for a moment before returning to his stone-faced annoyance at such a packed area.

The dressing rooms are nicer, much more spaced out and offering places to rest. Javier sits in a chair across from your little cubby as you try things on. Every time you find something, you come out and model it for him. He comments, always positively, gives a little applause and smiles at the twirl you give in the big trifold mirror.

There’s one pair of leggings that hug your ass tight. Javier nearly salivates at them. “I like those,” he comments. “They look comfortable.” The same follows with a pair of jeans, even more flattering. He crosses his legs and nods, giving you similar comments.

Then come the dresses and tops. They’re all low-cut, not the wintery clothing Javier’s always seen you in. They show off your cleavage, and one scarlet colored blouse with a low neckline and fluffy sleeves makes Javier’s eyes simultaneously light up and darken. “How’s this one?” You ask, tugging at the sleeves.

“How much is it?” He asks, leaning back and looking at you through lidded eyes.

“Uh…” you tell him the cost and look back up at him, expecting a comment. “Why?”

“I’m buying that for you myself,” he smirks up at you, eyeing you up and down in a way that makes your skin feel intensely hot. The sight is stunning to him, and your flustered smile makes the smirk a little more devilish.

Javier does end up buying you the shirt, and you purchase a few other things you liked. But that scarlet shirt is stuck on Javier’s mind in replay: the subtle valley between your tits, how they filled out the shirt just perfectly and tugged at the cloth covering them, the way they look painfully soft to the touch, especially through that soft fabric. He wonders if you were wearing a bra under it. Then he has to stop himself.

You eat dinner late, chatting mindlessly over everything and nothing. Javier has no work to speak of now, so he tells you tall tales of the hunt for Escobar, some exaggerated and some underplayed. He mainly listens to you, asks about your past and your future, your family and your job. He could never tire of your voice, the soothing lull that warms him from the inside out, just like your skin flushed in that goddamn red top.

He drives the both of you home, humming softly to the songs on the radio. He’s beginning to recognize more and more of the top-40 hits on a certain preset station, songs he’d never listen to on his own. He glances over at you, gazing out of the window, and feels his body warm again- not just in his heart, but his stomach and lower too. He dares to steal a glance down, at the soft swell of your tits in that sweater. God, he wants to get you naked.

But he doesn’t. He doesn’t know what you want and he’s too afraid to ask, too afraid to shatter this blissful phase of adoration without the sexual attraction. He wonders if you feel it too, if your clothes suddenly feel too restricting and too warm when you run a hand down his bare back.

The nightly routine ensues: you shower. Javier changes, this time into a new hoodie but leaves his legs bare, wearing only boxers on the bottom. He waits on the couch, and when you exit the bathroom, he takes his turn. He returns and sits next to you on the couch.

Tonight, when you ask him to share your bed with you, he doesn’t say no. In fact, he doesn’t say much of anything, just yawns softly and stands, taking your hand.

It’s a sacred space, your bed. Javier knows it. He rarely fucks women in his; whether it’s for his own privacy or fear they’ll fall asleep there, he can’t say. But your bed is such an intimate expression of you, and he can see it. He can see the divot in the mattress where you sleep, the way you arrange the pillows just right for your own head. It is a queen size, but it’s single-occupancy: until now, that is, and Javier feels honored you’re willing to share this holiness with him.

He gets into the bed on the other side of you, the warm blankets enveloping him, and he nearly lets out a moan at the comfort. Compared to the hotel bed and the couch, this is sleeping on a literal cloud from the heavens. He lies still, waiting to see what you do first. Not wanting to overstep anything.

His prayers are answered when you snuggle into his side. You rest your head on his chest, kissing his sternum through the soft material of the hoodie. A hand rests on the other side of your face, and your legs both encircle one of his. Javier smiles, wrapping an arm around you. He presses a kiss into your hair and murmurs a goodnight, letting his head fall back. He has no time to worry about this situation before he falls asleep.

He falls asleep almost immediately, which makes you chuckle through your half-conscious state. He seems to always radiate heat, Javier. Your layers of blankets upon blankets suddenly feel unnecessary when a heat source the strength of the summer sun fills your bed. His chest is strong and firm beneath you. The rise and fall of his chest is like a boat rocking on the ocean, putting you at ease and allowing you to rest.

-

Fuck. He knew this was a bad idea. Why did he do this?

The clock reads 1:48 and Javier is wide awake, staring at your popcorn-stucco-whatever the fuck it is ceiling. He wasn’t able to process this before sleep overtook him, before his consciousness was wiped and with it, his inhibitions.

Your body is pressed to his so perfectly. You sleep without a bra, and Javier can feel his arm being slightly sandwiched between your breasts, the way they press further into it every time you inhale. Your thighs are warm with sleep, and he can feel your core pressed against his hip, even while you sleep and even through the layers of clothing.

Javier feels like the embodiment of slime. You’re asleep and all he can think about is how fucking hot your body is, how much he wants to press you into this mattress and wake you with an orgasm. He wants to palm your tits and make your nipples harden through that flimsy shirt, to slide his fingers beneath your pajama bottoms and-

He can’t take it. He feels so wrong, the smell of you surrounding him and choking him like a thick perfume, even in its subtlety. He does not deserve to sleep next to you, innocently, like someone you love, when all he can think about is his own carnal desires.

Pushing back the covers, Javier gets out of bed before any more blood can flow to his slowly hardening dick. This is all wrong. He should not be doing this, thinking these things without knowing you feel the same.

But the guilt is as strong as his arousal. He watches you for a moment, torn between his options, before meandering through the darkened bedroom and finding his way into the bathroom. He turns on the bright lights and forces himself to stare at the bulbs, to make his pupils shrink from their blown state of sleep mixed with desperation. He’s fully awake now.

He needs to get the hardened length down. He can’t do this, can’t allow himself this suffering while you sleep in the next room.

The sink. Cold water. He gasps silently at the splash of the ice-cold water against his face, dampening the edges of his hoodie. It doesn’t work enough. Again. Nothing. He feels like a teenager, unable to control himself. The cold water is a good idea, though.

Javier strips down, trying to avoid the urge to take himself in hand and fix this here and now. Turning the water as cold as it can go, Javier turns on the shower and steps in.

Agony is the best term he has. It makes him want to squeal like a fucking pig as he shudders from the cold. It doesn’t work to force his erection down, but what use is it when it’s not something physical but mental stimulating him? The cold shock didn’t do shit. Javier’s still achingly hard. He turns the water warmer and sighs as it gradually turns to a tolerable temperature, one that he can relax under and allow himself to let out a deep sigh.

He has no other options, unless he wants to wait it out. Leaning against the wall, Javier strokes himself, biting his lip and hoping the water pressure will cancel any soft moans he can’t avoid. It doesn’t take long when he’s this aroused, when he knows exactly what the fantasy in his head would feel like.

Javier is panting and sweating, from the effort and the growing heat of the water. He feels disgusting but it feels so good, and he can’t help imagining you doing this to him, you spreading your legs and feeding the fire between his own.

It only takes a few minutes. He gasps as he cums, with a force he’s never brought forth with his own hand. He bites his lip so hard he’s sure he might cut it off, not allowing the desperate sounds to reach a level you could hear. When he’s done, he groans and cracks his neck. “Oh, little bee,” he whispers, agonized as he lets the water wash the evidence of his sins down the drain.

When he’s done, Javier walks into your bedroom, silently, in the dark. His previous boxers were stained with a patch of his precum; he can’t put those back on. He drops the towel and puts on different boxers.

After he’s changed, he looks at your bed longingly for a moment. The soft sheets, soft mattress, the soft body between them. But in Javier’s head, he’s forsaken his right to the warmth, the comfort.

When you wake in the morning, hours after you thought you heard the shower running, you find Javier is not in your bed. There isn’t even a warm spot where he lay, just your body shifted further from your normal sleeping position. When you wander out to make your morning coffee, you find him. He spent the night on the couch again.

-

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @blo0dangel @binarydanvvers  @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867 @greeneyedblondie44 @hunnambabe @astoryisaloveaffair @emesispo @pedritobalmando @magikfanatic @yooforia @oceanablue @sara-alonso @pedrosmustache @feelingmadclever @hnt-escape @radiowallet @obsessivelysearching @sugarontherims @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @linnie0119 @1800-fight-me @autumnleaves1991-blog @toilet-keeper @evelynseventyr @metalarmsandmanbuns @shannababyy @sambucky21 @princess76179 @starless-eyes-remain @theorganasolo @jagi-yaaa @mrsparknuts @tacticalsparkles @beskarboobs @wintermuteway

[heavymetalover]

Call Me Daddy (Michael Langdon x fem reader)

{i imagined scruffy sojourn michael w this one but i left the description kind of open so yall can imagine whichever teehee}

Summary: Michael is about to become your step dad and the two of you have an unusual relationship…

Warnings: DADDY KINK DUH, smut, dirty talk, fingering, vaginal sex, dom!michael, hickies, rough sex.

WC: 5.5k

A/N: ive done the unforgiven… omg.

this is a different format from my other stuff. i didnt see anyone doing this and yall know me and my daddy issues I HAD TO. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE anon me, message me, whatever, if you want more parts cuz im down.

~~~~

 You had an average run-of-the-mill life with your mom. The two of you lived in a sizable suburban Los Angeles estate; your mom worked for most of her waking hours to keep you comfortable and you worked your ass off to stay in your top college. You had a few friends that would pop into your life when your mom left town, a few boyfriends here and there, even your mom dated around. Everything felt normal until Michael came into the picture.

Your mom has been dating Michael for a few months now, but every time he’s around he brings an eerie feeling along with him. Despite being nearly half her age, he has the soul of somebody from the eighteen hundreds. The way he composes himself, how he speaks with the utmost confidence and how his stares linger too long; his glacial blue eyes always watch you like he can see right through your clothes. 

You’ve been skeptical of him since the day you met him. When you shook his hand and accidentally removed one of his large rings, he nonchalantly told you to keep it. You decided to sell the huge diamond-encrusted Cartier ring and use the twenty thousand dollars to help pay for college.

Since then you’ve avoided the two of them in protest of their relationship. You knew it was juvenile to evade them, but the man turned you on more than you’d like to admit. His soft-waved blonde hair, fluffy lips, jawline for days, prominent cheekbones, and how can you forget the eyes… Everything about him looked planned, like he was designed to be flawless.

On a mundane weekend morning, your mom calls you from downstairs. “Y/n!” her voice echoes through the halls.

You stop reading your favourite book and take out an earbud. “Yeah?!” you yell back, looking up from the pages for a moment and waiting for her to say something else, but the house is silent. You pretend to ignore her call and go back to the story.

“Y/n!” your mom yells again.

You sigh and drop your book, rolling off of your bed and skipping down the stairs to see what fresh hell awaits. As you approach your mom, who’s opening her mouth to call you again, you smell something unusual. Something you haven’t smelt since your dad left. Cologne.

“Honey, he’s here,” your mom whispers to you, putting a hand on your shoulder. You try turning away to run back to your room, but your mom stops you. “Can you be nice for once, please?” she begs, squeezing your shoulder.

“Whatever, let’s get this over with,” you groan and shimmy her hand off of your shoulder.  

Michael works at the dining table, setting up three plates and utensils. You’re planted to the ground in awe, you’ve never had to eat dinner with the two of them before. It crosses your mind that they must be confronting you about bypassing them these past few months, your fight or flight response is already kicking in.

Michael looks up at you, finally acknowledging you and capturing you in his ocean blue eyes with a nanosecond of contact. Your mom moves in between the two of you and takes some food out of a paper bag. “Michael and I wanted all of us to eat dinner together,” she skips to stand beside him. You widen your eyes at her and cross your arms in objection. She widens her eyes back, you can practically hear her nagging you to be polite.

Michael puts his arm around your mom. “Your mother and I thought it best for us to… start acting like a family,” he says.

Your eyebrows shoot up and you can’t hold back your smile. “A family?” you laugh. You purse your lips and start walking backwards, aching to escape Michael’s spell. “Mmm, I think I’ll pass,” you turn around to start walking away.

“Y/n,” your mom snaps. You stop in the middle of a step and twist back towards them, taking small, reluctant steps to approach their little function. “We have something to tell you,” she says and immediately after, vaults her hand out to you.

You take it hesitantly and look at her, still trying to figure them out and failing. “What?” you ask.

“No, honey, look at it,” she rolls her eyes, “look at my hand.”

You gawk at her hand, her third finger is dressed in a huge diamond ring. It looks big enough to pay off your whole house. You unintentionally let out a dramatic gasp and drop her hand, she continues to hold it up for you. “It’s the bloodiest diamond he could find in the LA area,” she explains, “We’re in love.” She smiles and places her hand on Michael’s chest, looking up at him with hearts in her eyes. He gifts a small kiss on her lips.

You scoff and shake your head. Any tension that you felt from Michael has dissolved. He’s been dating your mom for five months, five fucking months. Who does he think he is? Are they both nuts? “You’re joking, right?” you ask, completely stunned by how brash the whole situation is. “Are you guys pranking me?”

Michael grins at you, it makes you melt and you hate yourself for it. “Call me daddy,” he sneers.

----

It’s a quaint Wednesday evening when you decide to take a break from studying and grab a snack. You’re scrolling through Tumblr when you walk out of your room and smash your face against a sturdy chest. “Jesus!” you gasp, looking up at Michael standing in front of your door; one of his hands is in a fist, ready to knock on your door, while the other is behind his back. “You scared the shit out of me!” You playfully push his chest away from you, trying to shake off the sudden rush of adrenaline.

He drops his fist as he stumbles back slightly. It’s the first time you’ve talked to him since they announced their engagement. Michael moved in about a month ago and it’s been hard to ignore him since he sits, day in day out, typing away on his laptop in your living room.

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “But I have to admit it’s nice to hear your voice again.”

You lean against your doorframe, trying to act casual as if he hadn’t just knocked the wind out of you completely. “Did my mom come home from work or something? She send you here?” you ask, declining his attempts to meet your eyes, instead you stare at his lapel.

“No, I got you something,” he explains, wiggling the surprise behind his back.

“Another Cartier ring?” you joke. “Oh, or is it a new girlfriend? Because that would be even better.” His eyes find the ceiling in annoyance and it feels rewarding, you were starting to think he couldn’t be cracked. “Did you get me an apartment, so I don’t have to live with another failed marriage?”

“No,” he snaps back, starting to sound impatient with your infantile attitude. You straighten up at his belligerent tone. He slides into your room, keeping the gift hidden behind his back. “It’s thoughtful, something I know you’d like, but… if you’re hellbent on loathing my existence, why should I be so kind?” he asks. He somehow manages to speak reserved, yet impossibly intimidating. Every word that leaves his lips demands to be heard, it sends chills down your spine. “Right?” he prompts.

You take in a breath. “Right,” you force yourself to agree, mostly because you’re curious to see what the present is. Another part of you is getting bored of acting like a hermit and going days without social interaction. “Obviously it feels weird; I barely know you and you’re becoming my dad and you moved in, everything just seems so fast,” you explain yourself. You saunter back into your room to meet him. “I’ve been a bitch. I’m sorry, Michael. Seriously.”

He takes a step closer to you, you’re only inches apart. You can feel the heat radiating from his body and fight the urge to wrap your arms around him. “We’ll work on ‘Michael’ later,” he replies. You’re about to question what he means by that when he takes the present out from behind his back. He holds a black bag in between the two of you and you immediately recognize the store. “I heard you on the phone with your friend about something red, lacey, with a bow. I think I found it…”

You take the Victoria’s Secret bag from him without saying a word. You have no words to say. You don’t know if you should thank him or refuse the gift or slap him for listening to your personal conversations. Your mind races wondering if you’d gossiped about his good looks on the phone with your friend.

You silently pry open the bag and paw through the lingerie, mountains of cute panties and bras, digging through things you were never able to afford but always wanted. And, of course, Michael bought the red, lacey one piece you were talking about with your friend. There’s a stillness in the room as you look through the bag. “You bought all of this for me?”

“Yeah, I can’t see how your mom would fit into any of those.”

All of the pieces are just your size, it’s the perfect gift… just not from your stepdad. “How did you even know my size?” you stop looking at the bag and make the mistake of falling into his eyes.

“I went through your clothes,” he carelessly shrugs.

You drop the present by your side. “You went through my clothes, like, my lingerie?”

He slowly nods his head, acting as if it isn’t strange for him to invade your privacy how he did. You huff and he begins looking agitated with you again. “Would you like if I returned all this stuff? I thought you’d like it.”

“I do,” you mutter and kick the bag away from him, you’re not jeopardizing this gift with your uncontrollable sass.

“Good,” he spits back.

“Just… don’t think you can just buy yourself into the family,” you mock. You catch yourself subconsciously crossing your arms over your chest to give yourself a breast lift, but you don’t stop.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he smirks. He looks down at your cleavage and it feels like all the air is sucked out of the room. “You have quite the collection of lingerie you keep hidden at the bottom of your drawers,” he observes, “like a dirty guilty pleasure.” You peer up at him, again trying to read him, and again failing. He uses one of his fingers to hook onto the thin fabric of your shirt, your tits are practically pouring out and begging to be the center of attention. He tugs at the fabric, looking under your shirt and inspecting your boobs suffocated in one of your intimate Victoria’s Secret pickups. “Kitten’s all dressed up?” he whispers, his fingertips graze the embroidered details.

You bite your lip, anticipating the second he’ll rip the bra off your chest. “It’s all for you,” you tease, pushing your tits together even more, “I’m always dressed up for you, Michael.”

He breathes in, groaning under his breath. “I thought I told you,” his voice is low and intimidating, “call me daddy.”

You’re drinking in a breath of his cologne, shifting onto the tips of your toes to give his soft lips a rugged kiss, when the sound of keys rattling downstairs takes you out of it. Michael still stares at you, his fingers continue to linger over your clothed tits. “Michael!” your mom calls from downstairs.

You look up at him with fear in your puppy dog eyes and Michael grins. He shoots you one last, knowing, glance before leaving your room. He leaves you without saying two words. “Yeah, babe,” he answers your mom, closing your bedroom door behind him.

What the fuck just happened?

----

Holding back your gags, you grasp your friend’s hair as she projectile vomits peach schnapps into an expensive toilet bowl. Her phone rings in her pocket and you huff, digging through the pockets of the leather jacket you lent her and pulling out a vibrating iPhone. You pick up the phone with an ill “hello”, answering too late and looking down at the screen. She must’ve ordered an Uber a while ago, there’s a ton of notifications that the driver’s outside. “Oh shit,” you mutter under your breath. “Your ride is here!” you yell at her, trying to pull her onto her feet.

“What?!” she yells into the toilet bowl.

You roll your eyes and lean down beside her ear, “I said, your ride is here!” you yell over the thumping music.

Your friend stumbles around, trying to stand up in her six-inch heels. You pull her onto you and her head rests on your shoulder, she goes limp against you. “Stop, come on!” you shout over the music. “You have to g-”

You’re cut off by your friend puking onto an expensive mini dress you bought for tonight’s party. This shindig was supposed to be a fun little escape from your school life, your home life, Michael, all your stress. You expected to make new friends, meet hot guys, but instead you came an hour late and have been nursing your friend the whole night. You’re seriously going to kick her ass tomorrow.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, her breath reeking of throw up.

You toss her arm over your shoulder and start walking her out of the bathroom. “I’m going to kill you tomorrow, you know that?” you say in her ear and she lets out a small, apologetic whimper.

A cute guy who was talking you up earlier approaches the two of you. He holds two red cups in his hands and shrugs when he sees you. “What the fuck, y/n? You disappeared on me!” he talks to you over the bass-y music. “I got our drinks!” he shakes the cups in his hands and hands one over to you, as if completely ignoring your drunken friend hanging off of your side.

Your friend staggers, nearly bringing you down with her. The cute guy helps you pick her back up and you sigh, annoyed at how much of a disaster your night has turned into. He knits his eyebrows at your sour attitude, then finding the vomit on your dress, he looks back up at you. You see his doe eyes grow apologetic when he mouths a weak “sorry” to you, stepping out of your way. You shake your head as if telling him it’s fine; you just wish you had more time to get to know him.

You continue dragging your friend along your side and hear someone call out your name from behind you. You whip your head around; your hair irritatingly sticks to your lip-gloss. “Hope to see you again!” he calls after you. You nod in his direction and resume walking your friend, who is nearly passed out on your shoulder, to the front door. When you walk out of the house, you’re assaulted with the smell of salt water. Despite this night turning into one of the most frustrating nights of your life, at least you got to visit a Malibu beach house.

A big, black SUV is parked outside of the house and you rush her to the door. Opening the backseat and stuffing her inside the seats in the back. “The app says where you’re taking her, right?” you ask the Uber driver, your voice sounds muted from being struck by loud music all night.

He nods and reads out her address. “Y/n,” your friend slurs, gripping onto your arm with all her strength, “you’re a really nice… you’re a… you’re a really good friend, you know that? Like, seriously,” she pauses to hiccup, “thank you for taking care of me tonight.” Her words are so slurred that it’s nearly impossible to make out her compliment, but you just nod in hopes it’ll get her to let go. She drops your arm and hands you your pricey leather jacket, bunched up in a ball, before shutting the van door.

You throw on your jacket, protecting yourself from the ocean’s breeze, and watch the van drive away when you notice a familiar car parked across the street. The SUV blocked a four-seater Maserati parked on the other side of the road. Michael’s sedentary in the driver’s seat with a cigarette hanging from his lips. You balance yourself on your ridiculously tall heels and stomp over to his car. He doesn’t even see you coming, he’s leaned back in the driver’s seat reading a book.

You crouch down and knock on the glass of his window. His eyes meet yours for a second and he slowly rolls down the window. A mob of cigarette smoke escapes the car and he chucks the stick onto the pavement. You’re both quiet for a few moments, the crashing ocean waves fills up the silence.  “How did you know I was here?” you ask.

He finally puts down his book and looks at you. “Just trying to be a good dad,” he responds.

“Ugh, ew,” you groan. “You’re my step dad.”

He adjusts his seat to start driving, his eyes looking you up and down as he does. “Looks like your night went a little… rough,” he jokes and nods towards the puke on your dress. “You need a ride?”

You look back at the party. As much as you wanted to live up the night, you’re already in too much of a bad mood to go back in there. It doesn’t help that your new dress is covered in puke, too. You turn back around to Michael, he awaits your answer with a cocked brow. “You can’t tell mom,” you sigh, walking around the car to get into the passenger’s seat. The luxury car’s butterfly doors obnoxiously open up for your entry. “Not a word,” you assure him as you slide into the leather seat.

He starts up the car and one of his Led Zeppelin albums begins to play. “I picked you up at the library,” he quips.

He starts driving along the empty coast and you decide to skip the seatbelt, you don’t want to dirty his car with your friend’s retch. His eyes glance over to your seat for a moment, he notices you second guessing the seatbelt and puts a hand on your thigh. You look up at him and intuitively try to tempt him, biting your bottom lip and batting your lashes. “I’ll protect you if we crash,” he whispers, his fingers lightly caress your thighs.

You put your hand on his and slide him further up your leg. He keeps one hand on the wheel, eyes on the road, but when his eyes do meet yours, it makes all the nerves in your core feel like a wave pool. Your dress is short enough for him to reach your panties without any hassle. Your hand is on his when his fingers begin to rub your pussy, still dressed in a pair of panties he bought you. “Baby’s already wet for daddy,” he says under his breath, kneading your clit in small circles.

You feel your stomach erupt with butterflies, you’ve never felt a nervousness so intense before. A rush of thoughts suddenly violates your mind, you try to shut them up but they keep coming. This is wrong. You shouldn’t be doing this. You’re disgusting for enjoying this. His fingers have been in your mom before.

You dig your nails into his skin and pull his hand away from you; bending over in your seat and clutching onto your stomach. You only had one drink tonight, you shouldn’t be feeling this sick.

“I-I’m sorry,” he stutters, “are you okay?”

“I think I need air,” you grumble through the sudden sickness. “Can you pull over?”

Michael only takes a minute to find an empty parking lot on the beach and pull into it. You get out of the car without saying a word to him and take off your heels, throwing them into the backseat of his car. You’re already starting to feel your anxiety subside as you shuffle through the cool sand and pace towards the erratic waves crashing on shore. This is one of the reasons you loved LA, the tons of tiny, empty beaches. The ocean at night, and how it constantly smelt like salt water, how it relaxed you.

The breeze blew through your hair, a part of you felt like running into the crashing waves, but a voice took you out of it. “Y/n!” Michael called behind you, over the sound of the whistling wind. He trudges in the sand to get to you; you faintly snicker at his dedication. “Are you okay?” he asks once he’s closer to you.

When you see him, face glowing in the moon light, golden locks blowing in the ocean breeze, face twisted with concern, it all settles. Everything feels like it’s in the right place. Your stomach, although still turning with butterflies, no longer feels sick.

There’s a pause between the two of you; both of you deciding to admire each other instead of the beautiful ocean view beside you. Then, it feels like everything clicks. Like the two of you mentally communicate your longing for each other, your desire. Both shutting your eyes and diving in for a kiss at the same time.

His lips smash against yours, sucking your face, and his tongue quickly invades your mouth. He kisses you like he’s craved your lips for years, passionately cleaning up your mouth with his eager tongue.

Michael works your jacket off of your shoulders and you shimmy it to the ground. He unzips your dress, the zip running along your naked back sends a shiver crawling down your spine. He abandons your lips for a moment to pull down your dress, exposing your bare chest and expensive panties. You’re too lost in lust to even realize you’re half naked on a public beach.

You’re both panting and releasing all of the built-up sexual tension. He stands back up and kisses you again, his hands cup your ass and he gives an echoed smack; his fingers creep down your legs. He grabs onto the back of your thighs and hoists you up, you lightly yelp into his mouth and wrap your legs around him. His large hands hold you up and he leans down, resting you onto the jacket you’ve thrown onto the sand.

Once you’re laid down, he begins rubbing your pussy again. His cold rings adding a different sense of pleasure as he rubs you into entropy. He slides your feeble panties to the side and spits down on your cunt, shoving his finger inside you. You moan at the sudden intrusion, taking in a breath of the salt-scented air. “That’s it, baby girl,” he whispers, adding in another finger, “I want to hear you moan for daddy.”

You take in a breath and whimper as he curves his fingers inside of you, slowly pulsing against your g-spot. He touches you as if he already knows which parts make you crumble. “Ooh yeah, daddy,” you cry and grind on his fingers, pushing him deeper inside you, “right there.”

“You’re my dirty little slut, huh?” he asks, gliding in another finger. Your eyes roll back in pleasure. “Little girl likes to get fucked by her daddy?” He adds another finger, completely stretching you out. Your breath gets caught in your throat and you can’t reply. “I asked you a question.”

You meet his cold eyes for a second, before you throw your head back in pleasure. “Yes!” you breathe out, feeling the heat rise in your body. Your sensitive cunt throbs under his gluttonous fingers, persistently fucking you and begging for more. “Yes, oh, keep fucking me just like that, daddy!”

His fingers find a rhythm inside of you, constantly bringing you to the brink of climax and slowing down. “Such a dirty little girl,” he teases and spits on your soaking cunt. He pulls out his fingers and holds them to your lips. You grab his hand and suck on his long fingers, tasting the cool metal rings mixed with the sweet taste of your pussy.

You sit up and lock your lips with his again. Both, you and Michael, unbutton his shirt; you want to feel his flesh against yours as soon as possible. When you get to the bottom, you slide your hands up his body and square the shirt off of his shoulders. His perfect, porcelain skin shines in the moonlight. You want to appreciate it for a moment, but he’s already unbuckling his belt.

He’s propped on his knees, unzipping his black pants and bringing them down to pull his erection out of his briefs. It springs out when you start grabbing for it, he moves back and clicks his tongue. “My greedy little girl,” he mocks, “you don’t get a taste until daddy says you do.”

He pushes you down with one of his hands. His touch is so delicate, yet so commanding. Everything he does is done with conviction and a power that only you could dream of, he is inherently dominant over you. He strokes his long, girthy length over you, you’re practically drooling at the sight. He spits on himself and rubs it into the head. “Spit on it,” he orders.

You sit up and weakly spit on the tip of his cock; it’s too late when you notice your mouth is dry from nervousness. He shakes his head. “You’re so pathetic, you can’t even spit on me right,” he sneers, divorced from the nasty words leaving his lips. He presses his dick against your folds and your fingers curl into your jacket, awaiting the moment he plunges into you. “Say the word, baby girl, say you want me,” he’s lingering at your entrance.

“Please,” you whine, your pussy is beating against his hard cock, “please dad.”

He pushes his head inside you and you grab his arms for support, digging your nails into his skin. He’s so thick, you’ve never felt something so large obtruding your tight cunt. He moves in slowly, reading your stunned facial expressions to see if he should continue stuffing himself inside of you. You let out tiny weeps as he digs deeper into your hole, but you can’t manage much more.

Michael thrusts himself into you until he’s balls deep, even he can’t help but groan. “My little girl is so fucking tight,” he grunts under his breath. He starts to hammer himself into you, going so deep that you feel like pushing him back, but you can’t bring yourself to do it. His cock is so thick that it hits every nerve you could imagine; it’s hard to gather a single word.

He lets out a small chuckle at your reticence. “My innocent baby’s never felt a real cock before, huh?” he taunts, still pounding his length into you. You open your mouth to speak, but settle on shaking your head. One distinct tear runs down the side of your face while stifled cries pass your trembling lips with each time his balls smack into your ass. “You’re taking me like a good fucking girl,” he admires, “my good little slut.”

He lifts up your leg and rests your foot on his shoulder. You’re twisted onto your side, trying to look over your shoulder to see how vigorously he pounds into your cunt. Michael’s new positioning hits exactly in your g-spot, you feel your leg shaking under his grip. “H-holy shit,” your voice trembles, you let out a built-up breath. “Keep going, daddy! Right there, right there, I’m so close,” you’re begging, voice is flooded with desperation. You don’t care how childish you sound, you want nothing more than to come all over Michael’s big dick. “Don’t move, please, please,” you grab onto his arm again.

Tears overflow your eyes when you look into his. Just seeing his determined light blue eyes peering back at you makes you unravel even more. He has no remorse for how weak he’s making you, how vulnerable you’ve become, his unmistakable dominion turns you on.

He listens to your wails, finally granting you the satisfaction you’ve been begging for and plows into your g-spot. Your grip on him gets tighter as he thrusts harder, you’re almost certain he’s going to leave some swelling deep inside your cunt. “Your dick is so, fucking, good,” you breathe in between thrusts.

Michael doesn’t give up, keeping up the same pace and fucking you exactly how you want him to. You’re about to praise his long cock some more when you’re thrown into climax. You try looking back up at him, but you can’t say a word; your mouth hangs wide open with nothing but small chokes croaking out. He can see how dazed he’s made you and shoves your face into the ground, pushing your nose against the leather of your jacket. “You’re going to take daddy’s cock like a good little girl,” he seethes, suffocating your head into your jacket. “Don’t come,” he demands.

He continues punching your g-spot with his huge cock, you feel your pussy spasming under his rough thrusts. He holds both of your arms back, shifting you into doggy-style. His balls slap against your sore clit and you feel yourself starting to ejaculate. “Fuck!” you scream into the breeze of the empty beach. Your cunt twitches and gushes its balmy juices all over Michael’s hard cock.

He slows down his pace and pulls your arms up towards him, you feel his heaving chest against your back. “What did I just fucking say?” he fumes, tugging your arms even closer to him. “Answer me.”

“You told me not to come,” you answer in a syrupy, naïve voice.

He grabs both of your tits to push you flush against him, maintaining his rough thrusts into your cunt. “That’s right,” he whispers in your ear, “baby didn’t fucking listen.” He smacks your tits with both of his hands, striking you hard. You jump at how ruthless he hits you, it makes your stomach flutter again. His full lips lug along your neck. “Remember who you belong to,” he speaks into your neck, sending an iciness throughout your entire body.

Michael digs his teeth into your skin, sucking up your flesh while he continues massaging your breasts, pinching at the hard peaks your nipples have formed. He sucks so hard it stings, you wonder how that would feel on your pussy. His love bite begins to hurt and you shift your head away from him, he snickers. “Who do you belong to?” he whispers, lips chafing the shell of your ear.

He pinches your nipples even harder and you sob in pleasure. “Mmm, you,” you respond, looking over your shoulder to give his lips a frail kiss. “I belong to you, daddy.”

He takes in a deep breath as if shaking off your spell and regaining his confidence. He pushes you onto the ground again and goes back to fucking you like a ragdoll. “You better remember that,” he breathes, mercilessly pummeling himself into you again.

He holds both of your arms back once more, driving himself into you so hard that you’re concerned about cervix bruising. His pace slows down a bit and you look back at him, his mouth drapes open and he stares down at the back of your head. He pushes you away as he orgasms, savagely shoving your face back into the ground, as you feel his warm seed spilling inside your wet cunt. Michael groans from deep within his chest, letting out a long sigh when he’s done. “Oh, fuck,” he moans, “fuck, you sexy bitch.”

You let out a little giggle at this and he joins. He hauls himself out of you and you feel all of your muscles relax. You shift onto your back, looking up at Michael in disbelief. You’re too caught up in euphoria to comprehend what just happened. All you can think of in this moment is how fucking good he was. Even Michael has a dumbfounded look on his face.

He shakes his head and liberates a nervous laugh, “We’re so fucked up.”

You can say that again.

[aro-aizawa]

suprisingly not that many people ship them, but the thing is. the "&" is literally in the top 3 relationships!! i have not been in a fandom where a "&" is one of the most popular rships. (im not exactly.. against them? i prefer brotp in general but there are a lot of uh racist antis against that romantic ship so i like it on principle for the ~spite~)

i think theres a difference between a ship fic and a ..normal fic(?). like. usually in ship fics the plot and the focus would be their interactions/getting together. whereas for regular fics u can kinda balance plot and rship, but the main plot isnt actually getting together. do u kinda get what i mean haha

no no feel free to rant! its kinda funny that they taught u to swear in yr6 but rip for not being able to censor urself. and also. broke up. over facebook??? better or worse than text lmao.

the only rship ive had started off... not great. like it was an online friend from south america, and they asked me out literally the day i rejected my friend. so... i said yes out of guilt for rejecting my friend bc it didnt look like my friend was taking the rejection well ^^; not a wonderful start rip. went well for 6-8 months then we broke up bc the honeymoon period wore off and i havent talked to them since! ✌🏻✌🏻✌🏻✌🏻✌🏻✌🏻✌🏻 it was fun tho, but it felt honestly just more online friends tbh (....interesting decisions all around yknow? )

it be how it be. i was still id'ing as panromantic ace at the time. but still. im wondering if i could eventually "work" with someone? or is that just. allonormative asgsggshshd

i see enemies to lovers but what i Rlly want is enemies to friends to lovers. the friends is necessary!! at least in a long fic haha. ...and love at first sight sounds really fake to me? it sounds just like a hyperbole tbh. like maybe it was first wow u seem like a great person and then u like, get to know each other and then fall in love, etc etc

(👀 oop i type a lot. Rip)

oh yiiiikes i hate when fandom gets those racist fans. i’m kind of,,, dense?? about that kind of thing (abt a lot of similar things too), so whenever i see it, it’s like. mega bad. but nice! i don’t ever pay attention to what’s the most popular in terms of ao3 because when i get into a fandom i’ll blacklist every thing i’m not comfortable seeing in said fandom and then save that for when i’m gonna check out said fandom. for example [here is my atla filters], [here is my mha filters] and [here is my ml filters]. (i also use an extention called ao3rdr which has a blacklist function and my blacklist is SO LONG. but it’s an essential so that i don’t feel like my brain is going to rot by trying to find good fics.)

ye!!! i always think abt it in terms similar to genres. i hate watching films and regular books because genres are so....stilted? and ridgid in what it involves? so in fandom terms i think there’s two main kind of genre categories that have sub categories. there’s ship fic, then there’s genfic. no clue if these are wide spread terms i’ve just kind of understood it that way lol. but within those two categories, there’s sub genres like canon divergence that focus on said ship but with a focus on the plot as well so there’s two plots going on rather than just the main plot. usually there’s always equals in both sides. i think that’s what you’re thinking of. the difference is how the authors approach their fics, whether they think it’s a ship fic explorating the how do they get together of relationships or if it’s the genfic of exploring the relationship itself.

lmao yeah it was like. the only way we’d communicate in non-irl fashion because we were both like. 12/13 so we’d have like. pay as you go plans for our phones so i at least, hoarded my credit and primarily used alternate communication methods. so idk if this is wide spread but at the time we never got into the habit of communicating via text. it’s why still to this day i never ever contact my irl friends via texts, and always through social media (the only time i ever use facebook nowadays is to message my friends tho i’ve been,,,, rather lax abt that. i need to respond to one of my group chats but i’m,,, procrastinating). and we were both awkward people, so i wasn’t bothered by the online breakup, if he didn’t break up w me that way i’d have guessed we just,,, wouldn’t address the relationship ever again and still technically be together but not at the same time lol

oh man that sounds rough. never had any experiences w online relationships, but i can definitely see where it could feel like an online friendship. because,,, idk maybe it’s just me but there doesn’t??? seem like there’s much?? romantic-esque stuff you can do exclusively online?? it’s why long distance relationships are hard, and they only fit certain couples. and lol i deffo understand that feel of internet friends dropping out of your life suddenly. i still think of nearly all my internet friends fondly...except for the bad ones. yeah some of those ones ten years ago were p bad.

it is!! i think that people always shorten it to just enemies to lovers though because it’s easier to say lol. i’m MUCH more interested in the genfic varient of enemies to found family because it goes from “god i want to kill you so bad” to “god i need to kill for you like rn”. it’s just,,, *chef’s kiss*

(dw i type a LOT too lmaooo and sorry it took so long for me to reply, i didn’t feel like talking to anyone for a few days ahah i just get those kinds of moods sometimes. as evidenced by my also ignoring of my friend group chat of over seven years, that i’ve been meaning to reply to for over 24 hours and i haven’t yet. yay.)

[soobiniebaby]

Angels & Devils Part IV: Can You Tell Me

Tomorrow x Together Fanfiction

~ p a r t s : main post || prologue || part 1 || part 2 || part 3 || part 4 || part 5 || part 6 || part 7 || part 8 || part 9 || part 10 || part 11 || part 12 || part 13 || part 14 || part 15 || part 16 || part 17 ~ p a i r i n g : love triangle involving choi soobin and choi yeonjun ~ g e n r e : high school au | some social media au | some fluff & angst | childhood friends | love triangle ~ l a n g u a g e : English ~ w a r n i n g : contains swearing, alcohol, kissing (?) and may contain mature themes (angst, etc.) ~ a / n : This will be my first fanfic (go easy on me pls) and i’m just writing this as I go along, so bear with me juseyo The setting (place/country) of the story is up to the reader’s interpretation ~ s u m m a r y : What should she choose? Han Baby: the new girl with a troubled past MO Academy: her new high school Choi Soobin: student council president, member of the Ecosave club, volunteer at the Humane Treatment of Animals, member of the Honor Society, a vocalist in the Jazzed club, the school’s all around golden boy Choi Yeonjun: leader of the Dance club, star of the Jazzed club, the school’s it boy with a bad rep 5 best friends, 1 new girl, 1 childhood friendship, 1 epic love triangle? What will this school year bring?

B’s first week at MO Academy had been going smoothly so far.

She rarely found herself lost around the campus since she always had Kai or at least 1 member of the student council by her side, she was able to get to know a few other people in her classes, she was able to keep track of lessons and deadlines so far, she had grown to enjoy her walks to and from school with Taehyun every day, and she was able to adjust well to living alone without her parents to watch over her or without anyone else to help around with household chores.

She actually really liked living away from her parents for the first time. The one downside was that she was starting to feel a bit lonely, especially since the apartment had 2 bedrooms, which was obviously meant to be occupied by at least 2 people. The spare room was also set up like a bedroom with a bed and a wardrobe and a desk, but she didn’t have any use for it so she never really went in it since she moved in. She mostly used it to store extra clothes.

Today, Wednesday, the boys had their first student council meeting of the year to finalize things for club recruitment day, so B walked home alone, which she didn’t really mind.

Her week was going smoothly until she received an unusual message that night, while she was lying in her bed after finishing some household chores.

B smiled as each boy sent a selfie, and laughed when she realized that all of them were holding up peace signs in their photos. She quickly saved the pictures and set each boy’s contact photo until she saw Beomgyu send more photos to the group chat.

B locked her phone and turned over in bed, her head full of thoughts of what they could do for Kai’s birthday. If it were up to her, she would take Kai to someplace special and out of the way, like the beach so that they could reminisce about their childhood memories spent along the beaches in Hawaii. But considering that there would at least be 4 other people celebrating Kai’s birthday with them, she knew it was out of the question. She was also curious about what the other boys had in mind, and she was wondering what gift she could get for her best friend.

She checked her phone one last time before shutting her lights off and drifting off to sleep.

•°•

Soobin put his phone away once the other boys sorted out their plan to keep Hyuka busy while he, B and Yeonjun stayed behind. Their last period had already ended, and they were preparing for their meeting.

“So, where do you guys wanna talk?” B asks, grabbing her bag and getting up from her seat. “I’m guessing the 3 will be hanging out at the café, so that’s not an option.” she says, referring to the café that Taehyun’s family owns and runs, which they’ve hung out at everyday after school so far, except for yesterday when the boys had their student council meeting.

“There other cafes nearby, but they’re really not as good as Kang’s.” Yeonjun says, leaning back in his seat.

“You know, there’s one place we could hold our little meeting, and we won’t even have to leave school.” Soobin says.

Yeonjun and B look at him then, curious and interested.

“Well come on then, let’s go. You can lead the way, Mr. President.” B says teasingly. Soobin visibly cringed as she did so. It wasn’t a nickname, but it was something she seemed to enjoy calling him by.

“Alright, follow me.” Soobin says, and the three make their way across the campus.

Walking across campus with Soobin and Yeonjun by her side made B remember the times in the past when she would be escorted by bodyguards hired by her parents. The dark days. She had yet to fill Kai in on the specific details, and a part of her was secretly afraid of spending one on one time with her childhood friend, dreading the moment when she would have to recount the memories that she would rather just forget.

The 2 boys had been chatting about their term project for their creative writing class, Yeonjun whining about getting paired with someone other than Soobin and Soobin in turn comforting him, and B had been so lost in thought that she didn’t even notice where they were.

“Ah, I see. Nice thinking, Soobin.” Yeonjun says, as they walk down a familiar hallway.

“What, why? Where are we going?” B asks, the hallway wasn’t familiar to her at all. It was at a part of the school near where the faculty rooms and offices were, so it wasn’t really part of the tour.

“Actually, I just remembered that I had to stop by to sign some forms that I left after the meeting yesterday, but I figured we might as well have our meeting here.” Soobin says, as they reach a set of double doors at the end of the hall. He takes a bunch of keys out of his pocket and takes a moment to sort through them before taking one and unlocking the doors.

The sign above the door read “Student Council Office.”

“Oh wow, I haven’t seen your office.” B says, realizing where they were.

“Well then, welcome to our lair.” Yeonjun says, before Soobin pushes both doors open in a dramatic fashion.

The three step inside, and B takes a moment to scan the room. There were 5 desks situated along the walls of the room, 2 desks each on 2 opposite sides of the room and 1 desk at the very end of the room, which was bigger than the other 4. Each desk had an assortment of files, papers, trinkets, and frames on them. In the center of the room was a long conference table lined with office chairs. There were 2 whiteboards on the walls filled with scribbles from past meetings with a bulletin board full of reminders and notes, and a projector screen at the end of the conference table hanging from the ceiling. The only windows in the room were behind the 1 desk at the end of the room.

Soobin goes straight to that desk and shuffles through some papers, opening the drawers as well and sorting through documents.

Yeonjun sits at the edge of the conference table and beckons B over. “Come on, Baby. Take a seat.”

“Where, though? This place is huge. And I know we’re sort of having a meeting, but isn’t a conference table for 12 a bit too much?” she says, her eyes still scanning the room. “This place is…pretty cool.”

Soobin makes his way over to the 2 with a stack of papers in his arms. “I think it’s my favorite place in the campus. We come here all the time, and we’re free to use it as much as we want, so please, just take any seat. Make yourself at home.” he says, smiling sheepishly.

“Alright, I guess.” B says, taking a seat close to the end of the table. Soobin takes the seat at the end and Yeonjun sits between the 2.

B notices that the boys seem a bit different as they take their seats. When they were seated in class, Yeonjun was usually slouched in his seat while Soobin had an elbow on his desk and his head resting on his hand. Now, seated at the student council office, they were both sitting upright. Yeonjun had both elbows resting on the table and was leaning forward, while Soobin was sitting up straight with one hand on the table and the other on his lap.

“So, B, we just wanted to talk about Hyuka’s birthday. It’s tomorrow, and we were wondering if you could help us plan something as a surprise.” Soobin says, beginning their meeting.

B felt a bit intimidated, so she found herself sitting up straight as well. “I’ll help you as much as I can, but I haven’t celebrated his birthday with him since we were kids, so I’m not sure what we can do.”

“I’m sure anything you suggest will be a big help, really.” Soobin says, smiling warmly at her.

“Okay, well honestly, I already had an idea but it’s nothing grand, I just thought it would be nice.” she admits. When she sees that Soobin and Yeonjun are focused on her intently, she continues. “I was thinking I, or we, could greet him right at midnight? Maybe drop by his place and surprise him with a cake and stuff so that as soon as his birthday begins, we’ll be there to celebrate it with him. But if it seems too hard to pull off, we don’t have to do it. Or I can do it myself, since I grew up with his sisters too so I could ask them for help.”

“That’s actually a brilliant idea.” Yeonjun says. “I’m up for it.”

Soobin nods. “So am I. We can let the guys know about it in the group chat to see if they can come with us, and B you can coordinate with his older sister Lea to see if we can come over to surprise Hyuka.”

“Alright, I’ll get in touch with her and if she gives us the go signal, I’ll let you guys know right away. I’ll buy a cake tonight, maybe you guys could bring those pop out streamers or something so it’ll be a mini celebration.”

Yeonjun nods. “Great idea, Baby. I’ll deal with food and snacks, maybe a pizza?”

“Or 4?” Soobin says, grinning sheepishly at him.

Yeonjun’s face softens as he says “You know I can’t say no to you.”

Soobin laughs and says “Thanks, Yeonjunie. I’ll try to see if I can get my hands on streamers and stuff too.”

B nods. “Okay, that’s good. Is that all you guys wanna do? I’m sure you have something in mind.”

“A party. Let’s throw him a party.” Yeonjun says. “Tomorrow’s Friday, and we don’t have school or anything the next day, so it’ll be perfect.”

Soobin nods. “I was thinking of a party as well, but where? And how will we set it up?”

“Friday’s club day, but we won’t have club meetings yet since recruitment day will be on Monday, so we’ll just have homeroom in the morning then we’ll be free for most of the day. Plus we can come in school in casual wear, since Fridays are our washday.” Yeonjun says, stating facts.

“Wait, what’s wash day?” B asks.

“It’s the one day of the week where we’re allowed to wear casual wear to school. It’s on Friday cause the school thought it would be more convenient for club day.” Soobin explains. “If we throw a party on Friday, I think we could do it at my place. It’s always available.” he offers.

“Won’t your sister be home?” Yeonjun asks.

Soobin shakes his head. “She started at University this year and moved into a dorm, and you know my parents only come home a couple of times every year, so I practically live alone now. Except for the household staff, of course.” he explains.

So he lives alone too. Like me. B thinks to herself. “At least you have household staff to keep you company. It’s actually a bit lonely, living alone.” she says wistfully.

“It really is, especially since I’ve always been close with my family. It’s a big adjustment, having everyone move away now.” Soobin admits. “You guys are always welcome to come over, though, so I’m hoping I won’t be too lonely often.” he says hopefully.

“You guys are always welcome to come visit me too, though I doubt my apartment is as big or as grand as your house.” B says teasingly. “What about you, Yeonjun? Do you live with anyone?” she asks suddenly.

“Nah, my house always feels crowded, even though it’s just me and my parents, plus the household staff. I don’t like being at home though, and I think I’d actually prefer living alone, or at least away from them.” Yeonjun responds candidly.

B was surprised by how straightforward his answer was, and by how easy it was to ask him about it. “I’m an only child too, but as much as I love my parents, I wanted nothing more than a bit of freedom, so I think I understand.” she says, sympathizing with him.

Yeonjun gives a small smile. “At least you got your freedom, Baby. And at least you can say that you love your parents. I mean, my mom’s not bad I guess but my dad is just…” he says, shaking his head. “Anyway, yeah alright, I guess we’re having Hyuka’s party at Soobin’s place.”

Soobin nods. “Yep, that’s settled. Uh, we have to think about setting up now and stuff. Decorations, food, drinks, guest list, that sort of stuff. Gifts will be handled individually, of course.” he rambles, a bit flustered from the sudden change of mood in the conversation.

“I think the main problem is keeping Kai distracted while we’re setting up the party?” B says, offering her opinion. “It’s nice that we’ll be out of school early so we’ll have more time to prepare, but that also means that we’ll have to keep him distracted for longer too.”

“Well, we could do what we did today? Split up the group, 2 of us can distract him while the rest help with party prep.” Yeonjun suggests.

“No, we’re gonna need as much hands on deck as possible with the preparations, plus I don’t think splitting up the group will be necessary. One person is all we need, and I think I know the perfect one.” Soobin says.

B raises a brow at him when she notices him staring at her with a pointed look, until it clicks in her head.

“Oh… you mean me.” she says. Looks like she’d be having her one on one time with Kai a bit sooner than she thought.

•°•

“I can’t see anything.” Beomgyu says.

“SHUSH! Hyuka might hear us.” Taehyun shushes him.

“Wait, I’ll light up the candles so we won’t be in complete darkness.” B whispers. “Hold this for a sec, please.” she whispers, passing the cake to Yeonjun as she shuffles through her bag for the lighter. She lights the candles and pokes them into the top of the cake one by one then takes the cake back into her hands. “Thanks, Yeonjun.”

“Sure thing, Baby.” he whispers, and with the candles lit she could now see that he was smiling at her. She smiles back.

“Okay, are we all ready to go? Hyuka’s room is down this hall, the 2nd door on the right.” Soobin whispers.

“We know where Hyuka’s room is, Soobin.” Beomgyu scoffs.

“I, uh, was talking to B? Are we all re—oh wait! Everyone, put these on!” Soobin whisper-shouts, opening a pack of party hats and passing them around.

“We should’ve done all this before we snuck upstairs. The lights were on in the foyer.” Taehyun whispers while securing the party hat on his head.

“Too late now.” Beomgyu mutters. “Ouch!” he then whisper-shouts, as Taehyun grabs the elastic of Beomgyu’s party hat and releases it so it slaps against his chin

“That’s enough bickering, now let’s go!” Soobin whisper-shouts, holding up his huge pop out streamer like a bazooka.

“Ah, wait, shouldn’t Baby be in front since she’s holding the cake?” Yeonjun whispers.

There’s a moment of silence as everyone thinks it through.

“Okay, cake then pizzas then egg tarts then pop out streamer then camera. So that’s me then Yeonjun then Taehyun then Soobin then Gyu at the back so he can capture everything.” B whispers, getting everyone into formation.

“Why do I have to be at the back.” Beomgyu whispers, pouting as he takes his phone out to start taking the video. “Uh, guys, it’s 12:01 already. We missed midnight.”

And with that everyone runs down the hall and barges into Kai’s room.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!” they shout as they burst through Kai’s bedroom door.

“What the—?” Kai exclaims groggily, sitting up in bed and pulling the sheets up to his shoulders.

“Hyuka, were you, um, sleeping naked?” Soobin asks awkwardly.

Kai’s face flushes red as he says “No, of course not! I’m wearing underwear!”

“Oh yeah? Prove it.” Beomgyu smirks behind the camera.

“I can’t show you my underwear.” Kai says, flustered. “Wait, are you filming this?”

“Everyone sing!” B exclaims, which the boys happily oblige to.

“Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, happy birthday, happy birthday to you!” they sing as they walk further into Kai’s room and surround his bed.

B leans forward, putting the cake as close to Kai as she could, and says “Make a wish, Ningning.”

As flustered and red as he was, Kai squeezed his eyes shut before whispering something under his breath and blowing the candles out.

Soobin lets the pop out streamer rip as Kai blows the candles out, which causes everyone to jump and someone to scream in surprise.

“Uh, that wasn’t me.” B says, as they all look each other, trying to identify who screamed.

Soobin sighs. “Okay fine, it was me.” he admits.

“But you’re the one who popped the streamer.” Kai says.

“Yeah but I wasn’t expecting a loud sound to come out so I was surprised as well.” Soobin says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Anyway, happy birthday Hyuka!”

“Thanks, everyone.” Kai says as they all start to greet him. “How’d you get in here, by the way? And what time is it?”

“I asked Lea if we could come over to surprise you, so she told one of the maids to let us in beforehand.” B explains.

“And it’s 12:13 now.” Beomgyu says.

“Oh wow, you really came over here just to greet me at midnight? Thanks, you guys.” Kai says, smiling warmly at all of them. “It means a lot to me.”

“It was B’s idea.” Taehyun says, setting the box of egg tarts on the bed and wrapping an arm around B’s shoulders. “You’re lucky to have a best friend like this one.”

B blushed, surprised by the sudden show of affection from Taehyun. “Thanks, Taehyun. I couldn’t have done this without you guys.”

“Quick, group selfie before we devour the pizza?” Beomgyu says, holding his phone up.

As everyone moves closer together around the bed to fit into frame, Kai asks “Can I at least put a shirt on first so it won’t look weird?”

“Nah, it’s fine. Everyone say Kimchi!” Beomgyu exclaims.

Kai wraps the blanket tighter up to his neck as everyone says “Kimchi!” and Beomgyu takes pictures.

“Okay, now let me put a shirt on so we can do this properly.” Kai says. “Baba, please look away.”

B scoffs. “Oh please, it’s not like I haven’t seen you shirtless before. We lived in Hawaii, remember? Beach days? Sunburns?”

Kai’s face starts to burn red as he explains, “Yeah, but things are a bit different now, Baba. We’re not kids anymore.”

“Aw, is Ningning shy?” Beomgyu says teasingly.

“Just look away for a sec, please, Baba?” Kai pleads, giving the girl puppy dog eyes.

B sighs. “Fine, because I believe in consent and respect your adolescent boy body.” she says before burying her face in his sheets. “Just let me know when it’s safe to look.”

The mini celebration went on until 1:30 in the morning, with the boys exchanging funny stories about Kai and B in turn telling the boys embarrassing childhood stories about him. The 4 pizzas were easily devoured, the egg tarts were saved by Kai for later, more pictures and videos were taken, and they had to remind themselves that they had to be at school at 8 AM, and that’s when they decided to put the birthday celebrations on pause.

Yeonjun offers to drive Beomgyu home since the two of them live in the same area, while Soobin offers to drive B and Taehyun home since he lived closer to the 2, which they happily accept.

Before B falls asleep, she remembers to put together a quick birthday greeting in the form of a tweet.

And as she wakes up the next morning, she smiles when she sees Kai’s reply, but her smile drops a bit when she remembers what she and the boys had planned for the day, and what her role in the plan was.

•°•

“No offense to MOA, like this school is great and all, but are Friday mornings always this boring?” B asks Kai and Taehyun.

They were sitting in their homeroom, which was scheduled every Friday from 8AM to 10AM. Since it was the first homeroom of the school year their teacher didn’t have much to discuss, and on a normal Friday, homeroom period was used to prepare for afternoon club activities, but since club days haven’t started yet, so they were basically just sitting and waiting to be dismissed now.

“Kinda? Don’t worry, it’ll be less boring next week since we’ll be having club day by then.” Taehyun says, trying to reassure her.

“Hang in there, Baba. There’s only 15 minutes until the bell rings anyway. After that, we can do whatever we want.” Kai says cheerfully, trying to fight the boredom.

“You mean we can do whatever you want, birthday boy.” B says, nudging his arm playfully. “Seriously, anything you wanna do? I’ve got you for the whole afternoon, right?” she asks him. She was able to guilt him into spending the whole afternoon with her by playing the ‘I’m your best friend and I’ve missed you so much and I haven’t had quality time with you since we were kids and we need to catch up’ card. It was the perfect opportunity to keep Kai distracted from the 4 other boys.

“We could hang out at my place, maybe watch a movie or nap for a bit? We kept you up pretty late earlier so I wouldn’t mind a quick nap.” B suggests. She was feeling pretty sleepy, and she wanted to feel energized for whatever the boys had planned for tonight.

“That actually sounds really really nice. I wouldn’t mind taking a quick nap, plus we can finally catch up one on one, just me and you.” Kai says, grinning at B.

“You and I.” Taehyun says, correcting Kai’s grammar. “Honestly, I’ll probably spend the whole day sleeping as well, then I’ve got to work a night shift at the café.”

Kai pouts suddenly. “Aw, what? I was hoping you guys would be free tonight, we could all have dinner together or something. My treat.” he offers.

Taehyun fights the urge to smile at how adorably clueless his friend was. “No, it’s fine. I’m glad we were able to celebrate earlier today though. But still, you can ask the other guys if you want to but I think they might be busy too.” he says.

Kai pouts, nods, and takes his phone out to text the other boys. While he’s distracted, B takes the opportunity to communicate to Taehyun.

“Night shift? Really?” she asks, mouthing the words to him behind Kai’s back.

Taehyun shakes his head at her, mouthing back “No. Made it up.” Then he holds up his hand, showing her his fingers crossed which meant he was lying when he told Kai about it.

She nods, understanding him and then gives him a thumbs up.

Just then, the bell rings. B groans and says “Finally!” as she stretches her arms above her head. “This period was a long moment of nothingness.”

Kai nods his head in agreement. “You got that right. Let’s get out of here. Tyun, you gonna walk with us?” he asks, turning to Taehyun. “You guys walk together all the time, right?”

“Yup, let’s get going. I can’t wait to spend the afternoon in bed.” Taehyun says, gathering his things. And with that, the 3 of them leave school together.

•°•

B sent a quick update to the boys as she and Kai step into her apartment. All she had to do now was make sure that he stayed within her sight for the rest of the afternoon, plus she wanted to make sure she was appropriately dressed when they left for the surprise party later. How she could get all dressed up without Kai suspecting anything might be a bit of a challenge, but she was sure she’d come up with an excuse.

“Welcome to my humble abode! When I moved in, I decorated and organized everything by myself, so sorry if it’s a bit of a mess.” B says as Kai’s eyes scan the surroundings. Upon entering the front door, the living room was the first thing that greeted everyone who stepped in. There are 3 doors on the left side, the kitchen to the right separated from the living room by a counter with bar stools set up, and there was a round table with 5 seats set up in front of a pair of sliding glass doors that led into a small balcony at the back.

“Baba, this place looks great. Not bad at all, considering it’s your first time living alone. It’s pretty spacious, too.” Kai says, stepping further into the apartment. “Quick question, how have you survived living alone? I don’t think I could do it, I’m not a very good cook.” he says as he surveys the place, trailing a hand on the kitchen counters.

“It hasn’t been very easy, and honestly I don’t really know how to cook either, so I end up having food delivered a lot or getting takeout instead.” she admits. “I swear, I tried to cook here once on the day I moved in, and I almost burned the kitchen down, so I’m probably never gonna do that again.” she says, laughing sheepishly.

Kai’s eyes widen at her revelation. “Baba! What happened? What did you do?” he asks, almost screaming at her in surprise.

“I tried to cook and then the next thing I know, my smoke detector starts beeping nonstop, then I got so distracted by trying to shut it up, I didn’t notice that the food I was cooking was burning, then the sprinklers came on and my superintendent called to ask what was going on and I had to beg him not to tell my parents about it. It was pretty funny, but yeah, I’m probably never gonna try to cook on my own ever again.” she says, laughing at how ridiculous the whole thing sounded.

“Hey, if you want, we could try cooking a quick meal now? For lunch? I’m no seasoned chef, but I know a thing or two. You deserve to eat a homecooked meal at least once in your own home, after all.” he offers, as he starts rummaging through the fridge. “You got any rice?”

As Kai starts to scrap together ingredients from B’s almost-bare kitchen drawers and shelves, he goes into full focus and even puts on an apron. Whenever B asks him if there was anything she could do to help him, he just waves her off.

She takes a seat on one of the stools at the counter and snaps a quick picture of her bestfriend and she composes a tweet.

“Hey, remember that one time when we were still kids and we tried to cook eggs?” B asks as she puts her phone down. “I think we were at your place, we snuck into the kitchen while the maids weren’t looking, and we had to stand on stools just so we could reach the stove.”

Kai nods, though he still had his eyes focused on his cooking. “I remember you ended up with a burn on your arm cause it accidentally brushed against the pan, and when the maids caught us, you were trying so hard not to cry so they wouldn’t see your burn.”

“Oh yeah, I did get burned that day.” B says, then she lifts the sleeve of her sweater until she spots the barely-there mark just above her wrist. “Ah, memories.”

“You know, I still regret doing that.” Kai admits.

“What? Why? That was such a fun day, I miss being able to come over to each other’s houses and just playing around.” B says.

“Yeah, but the cooking was my idea, and you got hurt because of it.” Kai says, looking at her then with regret. “I know I said it a million times that day, but I’m sorry Baba.”

B scoffs, dismissing his apology. “Come on, it’s fine. I barely felt it anyway, and that was ages ago. Look, it’s your idea to cook today too, and I don’t think anything could go wrong since you’re not letting me do anything to help around the kitchen.”

“That’s cause I wanna make sure that nothing like that happens again.” Kai admits. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this. Just keep talking to me so I won’t feel too bored.” he requests.

“Alright then, anything you wanna talk about?” B asks, resting her elbows on the counter and leaning forward.

“What exactly happened to you last year?” Kai asks suddenly. B’s heart drops and she feels the knots in her stomach start to form, even though she knew he’d want to hear about it soon. “All you said was something about your family and your dad’s job and stuff, but I could tell you were having a really tough time so I didn’t want to push you into telling me all about it back then. And I guess I understand if it’s still something you’d rather not talk about, but as your best friend I’m just worried about you.”

B takes a deep breath, preparing herself to recount the bad experience. “Okay, I’ll tell you now, but to be completely honest with you, the whole thing was a bit of a blur for me too.”

Kai looks at her with his brows furrowed. “What do you mean? Like, you don’t remember what happened?”

B shakes her head. “No, it’s not like that. I remember what happened, I guess I just don’t understand why or the reason behind it? Or what exactly was going on?”

“Okay, I am very confused right now. If this is your way of saying that you’re not comfortable with talking about it, then it’s fine with me, you really don’t have to tell me.” Kai says, trying to sound comforting.

“No, Ninging, I promise I’m gonna tell you everything I know. The thing is, I don’t know much. How do I begin to explain this…” B wonders aloud, sighing before saying “Okay, do you remember what my dad’s job is?”

Kai nods, his eyes focused on his work in the kitchen. “He’s a lawyer, right?”

“Yup, he’s one of the most high-powered lawyers in the country, he works at CNK, which is a globally recognized law firm. He deals with a lot of high profile clients and is one of the most sought-after attorneys for classified cases, usually for big companies with dirty little secrets.” B explains.

Kai nods again, keeping his eyes focused on his work. “Okay, so what does your dad’s work have to do with you?”

“Everything, I think. At the time, my dad was working on a big classified case. I could tell it was big cause he only went home to sleep, shower, and then he was off to work again. I’ve never shown interest in the cases he works on because it’s his business, and it’s not like he’s allowed to talk about them anyway cause they’re usually classified.” B sighs as she realizes that she was starting to ramble, subconsciously stalling.

“Anyway, he was working on this one case, and I didn’t think it was a big deal, but one night he came home looking really shaken, like he was terrified. We usually have dinner together, me and my parents, but when he got home that night he and my mom immediately went up to his office. I tried my best to listen from outside the door, but at first I could barely hear anything, as if they were whispering. Then suddenly, I can hear my mom start to shout things like ‘drop this case right now,’ ‘what am I supposed to do’ and the one that sent chills down my spine was when she said ‘what about our Baby, what if they come for her?’” she says, trying her best to keep her voice stable.

“‘What if they come for her?’ What’s that supposed to mean?” Kai asks, his brows pulled together as he was trying to process everything she was telling him.

“I think there was a death threat.” B forces herself to say out loud.

There’s a moment of silence as Kai’s hands freeze, and B swore she could hear her heart pounding. She started counting her breaths, trying to slow them down as Kai looks up at her, his eyes meeting hers.

“You think there was a death threat?” he asks, repeating her words.

She nods slowly. Taking a shaky breath before continuing. “Yeah, that’s the only explanation I can think of for what happened, because since that night I’ve had bodyguards with me everyone I went. Outside my bedroom, at the dining table, they’d even be waiting for me outside my classroom and walking with me around school. Not only that, my parents put me on complete lockdown. I was only allowed to go out to school, then I’d be taken straight home. I mean, my parents were always a bit strict, but this was insane.”

“That sounds really rough, Baba. And it sounds scary.” Kai says, looking at her full of concern.

“It really was. I felt like I was suffocating, cause I never got a moment to myself. The bodyguards wouldn’t leave me alone, and of course everyone at my school started to act like total dicks because of it. Stories started going around, my friends started avoiding me because of the rumors, everyone probably thought I was a criminal or something because they all started treating me like an outcast. And I really felt like I was.” B says, remembering the stares she got at her old school.

“The kids at your old school are all idiots for judging you like that.” Kai says.

B sighs. “I don’t blame them, if a student at school suddenly showed up flanked by 2 bodyguards everywhere, I’d probably be weirded out too. But the worst part is, I don’t know why it all happened. My parents were very adamant about not telling me anything. All they said was ‘it’s for your own good.’”

“Oh wow, so they never explained anything to you? They put you through that shit without even telling you why?” Kai asks in disbelief. “I always knew uncle and aunty were a bit strict, but that’s just cruel.”

“Well if it was really a death threat, I guess they just didn’t wanna scare me. It got better once my dad’s firm won the case though. Again, I don’t know what exactly happened, but at the end of the school year my dad won the case, my parents eased up on my bodyguards, but the damage was done. I lost my friends, I was seen as a weirdo at school, and I felt so frustrated and suffocated that I just wanted to get away.” B continues. It was the first time she had said all of this out loud, and as shaken as she was, she felt a lot better to finally let it out.

“So that’s why you begged your parents to let you transfer schools? And move out of the house?” Kai says, finally understanding.

B nods. “Wow, I feel much better letting it all out now.” she says, taking a deep breath. “I’m just glad my parents let me do it. I think they only agreed because they felt bad about the whole thing, but ever since you mentioned when you walked me home the other day, I really do think that they might have secretly hired security to look after me.” she says, laughing at how ridiculous the whole situation sounded.

“You know what? Come here.” Kai says, motioning her over to his side of the kitchen. She stands and walks over to him and is surprised when he suddenly pulls her into his chest and wraps his arms around her.

“Ningning? Wha—?” she starts, but then he hugs her tighter and shushes her.

“Shut up and let me hug you for a moment, alright?” he says, and she feels his body rumble as he laughs. “Listen here, Baba. While I’m around, I promise I won’t let anything hurt you. You got that?”

B tries to relax into the hug, but he was so tall and he was holding her so tight that her face was buried in his chest and she was starting to have a hard time breathing so she lifts her head up and takes a deep breath before saying “Got it. Thank you, Ningning. That means a lot to me.” she says, smiling up at him.

They stay that way for a while longer before she says “Um, I think your food is burning.”

Kai jumps and screams then, panicking as he tries to save his cooking.

The two of them spend the rest of the afternoon picking out the unburnt parts of Kai’s cooking to eat, lying around the couch and chatting with some cheesy Netflix series playing in the background before they fall asleep.

B wakes up when she hears her phone ringing. She notices that the sky was much darker, and she panics when she sees the time and the notifications from Soobin.

[divainity-aa]

reggie  +  old  age  /  death trigger warnings:  death,  abuse mention,  alcoholism word  count: 2080

ACT  I.   THE  MANTLE  EMPIRE  CRUMBLES 

richard mantle gets diagnosed with lung cancer at age 65.   reggie  is  age  30.  the mantle men never had a long life expectancy.  riddled with a history of mental illness and addiction, they were doomed behind the delusion of material wealth and success that they were immortal. drowning in more money than they knew what to do with, though lacking in matters of the heart. it’s the start of the family’s estrangement, long overdue. victoria mantle wipes her tears on the drive home from the appointment. features remain motionless when she delivers the news. his heart seems to have no sympathy as she embraces him, searching for some sort of support. his hands remain at their sides. 

he watches as the disease kills his father, having made him into a senile old man with not even half the spunk and livelihood he used to have as a young, up-and-coming entrepreneur. it eats him alive, taking first his body and then his spirit. the chemo, the hair loss, the medication, the appointments. he finds a reason not to be there for any of it. he can’t help but feel a kind of satisfaction, that it’s the universe doing itself due diligence, paying him back for his suffering all these years that he was made afraid in his own home. it was what he had prayed for all these years, every time he bit his tongue saying his father’s name. 

so why wasn’t he happy?

richard mantle dies at age 73.  on his deathbed, he begs to see his only son, now age 38. you’d think the years of treatment would have given them time to reconcile, to move past their past, but the opposite is quite true. pride seems to be the vice on both ends, keeping them apart. his father finds shame in his illness and need for victoria’s constant assistance and reggie has no interest in making amends even in light of a tragedy. the roles have reversed, reggie now the one never home and his parents never leaving. part of it was spite, wanting to leave them alone the way they left him and part of it was in fear that he would be there when it came to an end. 

one night, he’s told that richard called only for him, the heir to his throne, his so-called pride and joy, mumbling something about seeing him before he met with god. he’s told that his father wanted to tell him everything he should have said, beg for forgiveness while he’s bedridden and his mother called for him profusely. he doesn’t pick up the phone.  he picks up the bottle and brings it to his lips instead, for it is  far  more  comforting, in a bar nearly 20 minutes away. waiting. 

there’s a call later in the night, this time from the hospital. 

hi, i’d like to speak to reginald mantle. it’s urgent. ...  yeah.  sir.. we regret to inform you that your father just passed away.  ... sir ? ...  ... sir are you still— is she still there ? your mother? yes she’s still here. do you want me to hand her the pho— no. don’t tell her i answered. .. oh. okay. is there a message you’d like me to pass on? ..... .... sir is there a message— .... tell her to let me know when i get my part of the inheritance.

he was right. his father’s pride would be what killed him.

reggie  doesn’t  attend  the  funeral.  his mother pleads with him on the phone, begging that he’ll do the right thing and put past wrongs aside.  he’s your father, goddamnit!  but he doesn’t show. he burned the invitation, with a match of his own light, watching his father’s glowing portrait disintegrate upon gloss paper. he stares, hoping that some kind memory, some fond recollection that can guilt him into feeling sorry. but like most times, he feels nothing. 

he spits on his grave and pours his father a drink through the soil. he thanks him for nothing and never goes back.

soon, all of riverdale knows and they begin pouring in meaningless condolences. old acquaintances emerge from the woodwork, knowing of the inheritance he has on its way, and honest friends reach out to apologize for something that isn’t their fault. it’s hard to tell which is which, but it doesn’t matter. he ignores them all, paying mind only to the numbness from hard liquor. he packs a bag with his things, enough clothes for a week, before leaving riverdale without intending to return.

ACT  II.   THE  LAST  MANTLE  STANDING

reggie moves back into the mantle mansion at age 40. it’s not until years later that he decides that he’s ready to even make a reappearance at what was never a loving home. his mother is there to greet him, she herself decreasing in health and taking after that of her husband.  they’ve not been in contact all this time, too painful for both of them, but still she embraces him with tears in her eyes. for the first time in forever, a hand raises to reciprocate,  tears streaming quietly down chiseled cheeks. maybe it’s the sight of his mother, aged but still the same,  maybe it’s her compassion.  he  was  never  the  perfect  son,  nor  she the perfect mother, but grief has a way of bringing families together after setting them apart.  he’s not quite ready to forgive her and she knows it.  

but he’s home. they both are. 

reggie’s mother dies at age 80.  reggie is age 47. no diagnosis, no illness: simply the wrath of father time. her bones finally became to brittle and her heartbeat too slow. she passes away in her sleep. reggie finds her in the morning when he’s bringing her breakfast. there’s still a grape juice stain on the carpet from where it is he dropped the tray.

he calls the family he never knew, her estranged sister and two brothers. they come to riverdale for a private service and he meets them for the first time, having never before because his mother didn’t keep in contact after marrying. they look so much like her it hurts. they share a few embraces and exchange information. it’s the last time he ever sees them until 20 years later.  they collect her things that she left them and leave before the weekend is over, leaving him with the lease. 

he remembers when he thought the house was emptier with his parents in it.

ACT  III.   A  LEGACY  REBORN.

the mantle foundation and recreational center is founded in 2050.  his hair begins to gray and he’s painfully aware that there’s little time left for him to salvage what’s left of his life. it could be over tomorrow  &  he has no heir:  no wife or children.  his fear of a legacy, of a child bearing his name and his burden too great for him, leaving him truly and utterly alone. and with nothing to lose, more importantly. 

he sells the riverdale gazette for a sizeable amount and uses the earnings to renovate an old building, a former warehouse, into a clubhouse, one for kids ages 12-19.  the doors are always open and there’s no entrance fee— only the request that you treat others the way you’d like to be treated. a rule he never followed. the inheritance he receives from both his mother and father are poured into its operation, furnishing it with love & comfort, and its foundation creates countless opportunities for riverdale’s youth. students are given access to endless resources, human and material alike. new school supplies, toys, books for the taking. tutors, therapists, coaches and advisors at the ready. free of charge, at the disposal of those who otherwise wouldn’t have access. 

college scholarship funds are opened in the names of influential people in his life, including the archie andrews scholarship,  the betty cooper award,  and  the veronica lodge fund  ( in partnership w/her namesake ), to help riverdale’s follow their dreams to higher education. every application is read by reggie himself and he interviews every candidate to hear their stories. he often ends up giving more awards than promised, quite literally having money to burn, just not at anyone’s expense but his own. 

he’s there for all of it.  from getting his hands dirty when the building was built to being there to greet kids every day and lock the building when it’s closing : he is invested. his face is no longer attached to misery, but delight. hope. the kids know him by name when they bustle in after school and he treats them like the children they never had. in a lot of ways, they are.

the people of riverdale almost can’t believe their eyes, its once infamous villain now having had a change of heart. some are still skeptical, others have accepted the change and donate regularly to the cause. he’ll never fully undo the wrongs he’s done, but this is where he begins. and better to have started now, than never being given a chance to.

all the while, he lives a quiet life, tending to his kids at the center when he’s not at home. visits are seldom, but each one is appreciated and cherished as time continues its march alongside him. 

ACT  IV.   A  SOLEMN  REPRISE.

reggie is diagnosed with liver cancer at age 70.  and it seems with every day that he may not outlive his father. damaged by the consumption of hard liquor from premature age has caught up and it’s eager to collect its dues. he lived comfortably in the delusion that illness had skipped his generation, that he was where it ended, but he is sorely mistaken. he refuses all treatment, remembering how it is his father died, under flourescent lights that burned his eyes, and he grimaces. he’d rather die able-bodied, than drag out his suffering. though fearful, he is accepting and continues business as usual. the world still turns and it will even after he goes. 

reggie dies at 75.  it’s in his sleep, the same as his mother. a night he never woke up from. suspicion grows when he’s not seen around town, nor at his own foundation’s headquarters. a coworker finds him after he doesn’t pick up any calls and alerts authorities.

the town comes together for the funeral, knowing there’s no family of his that would do it himself. archie, betty, jughead and veronica help plan it with the help of the lives he’s touched. the scholars he’s changed the futures of return home without a second though and pay their respects. there’s an exchange of stories, recounting every part of his life. the core four give eulogy together. riverdale high pays tribute to him not just as a public servant but for the stellar athlete and leader that he was. there’s a plaque dedicated to him at the mantle foundation center and a portrait painted of his likeness hung to remind all its guests why it is they have what they do. 

ACT  V.   A  NEVER - ENDING  STORY.

his will. he’s cremated, the way he wanted to be, and his ashes spread in the wind, on the shore of his favorite beach. a free spirit while alive, he wanted to same for his soul. he’s also given a gravestone next to his family, just for looks. 

in his will, he leaves the mansion to the next CEO of the mantle foundation, instructing that it’s used to expand their headquarters whether it be to create a second location or another office for its business staff. he leaves each of his three cars to archie, betty, and veronica, telling them they can give it to their kids for their 16th birthday, keep them for themselves, or sell them at market value. whatever works best. his motorcycle goes to jughead. 

he leaves a video for each person who’s stuck around this long behind, on a thumbdrive that’s mailed upon his death. each video is personal, with things he just wants to make sure are known, even after his passing, and heartfelt in its own way. each of the core four receives one and so does his foundation staff.

his personal funds to be completely depleted after this division of assets. the remaining funds are all left to the foundation to ensure it’s kept running until the next person takes charge. 

the empire ended with him, but its name will last forever now because of it.

[feel199x]

street racer!lee minho, gods of olympus! au

⚡ chapters: I II III IV V VI  masterlist

⚡  a/n: there’s like. So Much Sexual Tension that i didn’t intend and its not gonna go anywhere,,, im sorry but Minho’s hoe spirit possessed me while i wrote this chapter

⚡ warnings: sexual tension?? does that count??

⚡ song rec: angel of small death & the codeine scene

Minho hadn’t called you on the bus ride home, nor did he show up at your apartment the night. He didn’t call you the following nights either. He was, however making your life a fuck ton harder. For three full days, it had been pouring. The first day you had made the mistake of riding in the rain, figuring it would’ve cleared up by the afternoon. But it hadn’t. You had to get to an afternoon class, but you had no spare money to afford riding the bus every day to work. Being a broke college student was difficult, but not everyone could make their weight in money with illicit activities. You didn’t really mind the rain as long as you were inside. The pattering of raindrops against your window was comforting, and it helped calm your nerves as you studied, even if the person causing it was an asshole. You hadn’t blocked Minho’s number, not yet anyway, but figured that he had probably ghosted you anyway- so it didn’t matter.

Besides, you never paid much attention to boys, anyway. Your studies were more important to you, and you literally could not afford to lose the scholarships you busted your ass in high school to get. You knew college would be hard, but you had no idea it would be this difficult. None of these questions made sense- but you needed to study. You never struggled this much with Criminology concepts, but you found yourself rereading the same parts over and over, it wasn’t clicking. It was two am now, and you had a class at eight, ten, noon, and then a shift at the bakery- where you were filling in for a co-worker who had gotten sick. You weren’t even planning on falling asleep, but you woke up from your alarm, wiping drool from your lip as you got up.

This was just your life, it could be worse. You could be in a lot more debt, and your mental health could plummet- but it hadn’t, not yet. You knew if you kept pushing yourself like this than he would eventually crash and burn, but whatever. At least you would go out in a burning glory. You shook your head at the thought, mentally scolding yourself. Recovery didn’t work if you weren’t constantly checking yourself- as annoying as it was, it worked. You promised yourself and made a reminder on your phone to take a day off this week. You needed to relax, or next thing you know you would find yourself attached to your bed, glued to it with tears and a sweaty sadness.

You walked into the lecture hall, being the first one as you always were because you made it a point to actually ask for help. But the professor and his regular t.a wasn’t there.

“Are you lost?” He smiled and laughed as if you had said something funny. You grew anxious and insecure, it wouldn’t be the first time people had teased you like that. “No, not at all,” he said, “I’m the new teacher’s assistant.” You eyed him suspiciously, “What happened to the last one?” He pulled up his sleeves, and you felt embarrassed as he revealed his veiny arms. He twirled his pen and smiled again at you.

“He’s under a new teacher, now.”

“Who?”

“Mr. Park.”

“That’s a convenient answer.”

“It’s the convenient truth.”

“What’s your name?”

“Chan, darl-”

“Oh, fuck off.”

He crossed his arms, slightly surprised at your boldness. “Pardon?” You groaned, gripping your school supplies. “You’re one of those high and mighty gods, right? You and Minho can fuck right off.” He eased into the desk chair, chuckling to himself. “He’s already messed up, huh? I promised I wouldn’t interfere, but-”

“You also could’ve lied about your name.”

“Slip of the tongue. I doubt you wouldn’t figure it out, anyway.”

“What do you want?”

“To help.”

“With what? I’m done with Minho.”

“But you like him.”

“So? Doesn’t mean he’s not an asshole. I’m not here to teach him how to love, what kind of outdated shit is that? I don’t care that you’re a god, and I don’t care that he’s a god. Means fuck all to me.”

“Ah, you’re smart. Athena took well in creating you. But, it is fated. You’ll teach him one way or another.”

“Chan?”

“Yes?”

“I don’t give a shit.”

You probably could’ve reviewed the material with Chan, and maybe he was a nice guy- but you didn’t want to deal with anyone that was even slightly supernatural. You weren’t even going to look at your horoscope. You just wanted to graduated and take the bar exam, hell, maybe even try for a spot at a place with higher level cases. But one thing you were not about to do was about to do is let yourself slip into a game of cat and mouse, you were here to study. If you needed to take a break, you would- but “taking a break” didn’t mean worrying about a boy. If you wanted to worry, you would take the practice bar exam again.

You found the professor calling on you an absurd amount of times, and you shot Chan a death glare. He winked at you, a stupid smirk on his face and shrugged. You heard peers murmur, but Chan just looked amused, even winking at some of them. Were all gods like this? If Chan, the leader of the gods was this chaotic, how would you deal? Being the one you thought you’d like the most, you were severely disappointed. You flew out of your seat as the class ended, but found yourself caught in a sea of eager college students- you were so close to making your way out of the lecture hall doors when your professor called you.

“____, I’m sorry about being late this morning, but I had an incident with my car. I still have to solve the issue, but Chan can stay after. He said you were struggling with theory? I’ve provided a practice exam for you to Chan. Please don’t leave until you’ve got a passing grade.” He left unceremoniously, bidding a polite goodbye as he walked the both of you to a college library.

“I’m not struggling with theory.”

“You’ll start to. You have a bad habit of not knowing your limits.”

“Thanks, Sherlock.”

You sat a table in the back, a room reserved for group studies. “I have another class soon.”

“It’s taken care of, love. I’m going to get some coffee, please don’t go.”

You sighed, you had to finish the practice test after Chan explained the material, and it was unrealistic to think you’d be able to get to your second class. You could use a break anyway, it’s not like missing one creative writing class would kill you. Not physically anyway.

“Here you go,” he plopped a cup on the table, along with a pastry bag, “you should eat.”

“Are you actually going to help me study?”

“Sure, but I think we should talk about Minho first.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

He shut your textbook gently and pulled it away from you. “There’s a lot to talk about. I know Minho can be the worst, but there’s a lot more to him. I know it’s hard, but you’re going to have to trust me.” You wrapped your hands around the coffee cup, the warmth spreading to your hands. The rain was still pouring if it continued the town would flood. You didn’t understand why Minho was being so intense, maybe you shouldn’t have snapped but it wasn’t like he was a saint either.

“Why should I trust you?”

“I’m the one who sent him down here- well, with some pressure from the fates but still. I promise I’m the sanest up there, well second to Woojin.”

“Then why isn’t Woojin here?”

“He’s solving some other matters.”

“Like?”

“Ah, I can’t tell you that. But we’re moving away from the point. Just talk to Minho, honestly, once.”

“Already tried.”

“I know, but hopefully, I can help.”

“W-?”

Chan snapped his fingers, shooting you a somewhat apologetic look but turned to Minho looking smug. “What do you want?” You laughed, crossing your arms and leaning back into the cushioned seat. “Do you have something you want to say?” he snapped, “Oh wait, you already had your tantrum in the most expensive restaurant in town.” You knew better than to provoke Minho in this state, he knew what words that to use to hurt- and if he got any angrier, he would lose control. You weren’t laughing at him in the first place rather than yourself for getting into this situation. But whatever, Minho took it personally and even though you were tired of always being the bigger person- someone had to be. You didn’t even glare at him, you uncrossed your arms let them lay on top of your legs.

“Minho, be respectful.”

“Why are you even here? Fuck off.”

“I’m still your leader Minho, watch your tone. If you didn’t want to be found, you should’ve made an effort.”

Minho pulled away, sinking into the seat and tapped his fingers on the wooden table, settling to glare at you instead. “I thought you were letting me go back to Olympus.” You pulled your books into your lap, knuckles turning white from your grip. “I should go,” you nodded at Chan, “it was nice to meet you, Chan.” He shook his head, and as you tried to open the door, you found that it was just conveniently jammed. “Look, I don’t wanna do this but you guys need to talk it out,” he started, “And the sexual tension is killing me, Jesus.” You turned, taking your hand off of the knob. You let your bag fall to the side and slid back down to the seat, watching as the campus paths filled with large puddles of water. “Look, Minho, I’m sorry if I embarrassed you. But you were flirting with a waiter, and not to mention you let me get arrested.”

“Is that seriously what this is about? What are you, five?”

“You’re not exactly known for being loyal, Minho.”

“You’re supposed to be a mediator!”

“I’m mediating you being a bitch boy.”

“I am not! That’s bold coming from someone-”

“Can I leave?” you didn’t mean to interrupt, okay you did- whatever Minho was about to say was probably something personal, “I have a class and I need to get there early.” Minho scoffed at you and you sighed.

“Okay, what? What’s your fucking problem?”

“I took you to the best restaurant in town, and you threw a tantrum.”

You laughed in disbelief, leaning over the table and looked at him.”The sexual tension is like, literally suffocating me,” Chan said loudly, “I’m still here, you know, I’m asphyxiating.” Both of you ignored him, breaths hitched with the attention fixated on each other, suddenly infatuated with the tension in the room. “You flirt because you’re insecure. You thought I’d get bored, so you tried to prove that you’re available, bitch boy.” You weren’t sure it came from, the compulsion that came over you. A ripple of surprise washed over, but he quickly retaliated. Minho’s face as he leaned forward, pushing you back. “You’re just scared you can’t handle me. True, you don’t wanna fix me- but you’re scared that you’re not as exciting as my past lovers.” You were staring at each other now, both of you hauntingly relaxed but maintaining an aura of intimidation around one another. “I don’t need to be exciting, you’re just obsessed with me because I put you in your well-deserved place. You’ve been kept in a bubble all this time. It just gives you the hots when someone doesn’t worship the ground you walk on.” He licked his lips and smiled, “Actually, I think you’re the one who needs to be put in place. You’re too arrogant. You need to learn that I’m god from Olympus, babe- I deserve to be worshipped.” You leaned closer, your breath hot on his face as he watched, lips millimeters away from his but you brushed your lips against his ear instead, whispering lowly as the hair on his neck rose, “Over my dead body, babe.”

He spoke again as you moved back to leave, his finger ran across your lip and you refused to give him the satisfaction of moving away. “If you think you’re so high and mighty then race me,” he tilted his head and brought his lips close to yours, “I mean, if you’re not scared, babe.” You placed your thumb on his chin, tilting it up. This wasn’t like you, but you’d be damned if he was going to win this little show-off. Your nose and forehead were pressed against his as you spoke lowly, “You’re the one who should be scared, babe.”

[unproduciblesmackdown]

3 am’s a crazy time for it but it occurs to me i may as well give a heads up that i am like, for real at the present assuming that i’m gonna like, sometime in the very near future here be going offline again, in that sort of my ~plan~ (my one-step plan) is seeing if i can get myself on a bus (hopefully) and see if that can get me to the west coast. and from there i’ll just be like, well here i am in a place i’ve never been before, being unhoused for the second time but this time not living in my car, which is a bit different than living right out in the open, which i’ve never done. this, for example, is why i was looking up how to do makeshift stp devices. way easier to be able to pee wherever you are than have to find a place you can drop your whole pants, or an actual bathroom. apparently cutting the end off one of those plastic liquid medicine measuring things with the sorta spoon at its mouth works. anyways

i suppose it hasn’t necessarily showed but for a few weeks now i’ve def been feeling The Impending Pressure and it was getting down to the wire there not knowing if the Last Day Online would spring itself on me suddenly. but i can at least say i think i’ll have a days warning now and be able to say something with at least a matter of hours forewarning and not like, a matter of minutes. its been sorta wild though like, sorta assuming its like a Two Days Remain situation and in the midst of the unpredictability of depression, trying to just enjoy things as they’re happening, the simple stuff like chatting with people and being able to put my bullshit thoughts online...cranking out a fic chapter because it’s at least a better place to leave it hanging than it wouldve been otherwise.....just consuming this content that’s enjoyable and chill af.......i tell ya what—both in terms of being Fun and Anxiety-Reducing and Good Distractions and also, a great opportunity just to be talking to people on the daily which has been and continues to be absolutely fantastic—having been On that deh/etc will roland train for the past couple months has been a total gift. it was some great luck stumbling into that, seriously

anyways it’s weird! it’s weird thinking just like, i’ll suddenly do this thing and be on the other coast and just step out and be somewhere i don’t know and with no particular destination and maybe the lgbt center i looked up will at least tell me whats the best area to be in, sometimes they’re in the know abt that re: where’s a better spot to be homeless in than others. and from there, y’know, all i’ve been doing for years and all i can continue to do is absolutely wing it. and it’s funny that this all seems slightly less intimidating to me than it wouldve like, a year or two ago (even tho two yrs ago i was technically homeless lol but living in my car so like i said its different from living Right on the street) but honestly, obviously, it’s still very intimidating because how could it not be. i’m maybe not AS anxious but i’m still anxious and even though i know i could do it, i’d be stressed tf out and anxious as hell and shit while i was doing it. i mean, a crosscountry bus ride alone—i’ve never done that!! what if i mess up switching over to a different connecting ride between stations. bus and train bathrooms unnerve me, god forbid i have to get past someone to get to the aisle to GO to the bathroom. and, yknow, just a really long bus ride—how do you manage to sleep, how do i manage not to fall asleep at the wrong time cuz i doubt there’s an attendant telling you to get off at the right stop. though god knows it’s somewhat arbitrary where i’m deciding to go, i have no especial connection in one particular place over another, i think i have an uncle and cousin in CA but i don’t have the first idea where and i don’t know them at all

ugh. like there’s no actual way to feel good about it but if i’m gonna go somewhere it might as well be in a completely different place and i could try the west coast and i’m not one for making careful plans or thinking that making careful plans about your life works unless you’ve already got a lot of control about your situation, which i don’t. and it’s always been p inevitable that i wind up “properly” homeless, and it happens, and i don’t pretend it doesn’t scare me, but what are you gonna do? c’est ca que c’est / la vie. this way there’s a chance that A Big Change might lead the way for something better, and like hey if i die or some shit i die, which has always been a possibility anyways for the past like 6-7 years especially, what with how shitty i’ve felt lol. but i have no attachment where i’m at now and just. it’s hard to explain i guess if you’re not in the kind of place where i’m at but there’s not a lot of choices in the first place so, if i can choose the location, if it can be somewhere new where i MIGHT like to be for once, that’s better than not. and somehow so far i’ve managed to go with the flow surrounding big changes and sometimes wild situations, even if i’ve felt like crap and been super worried sometimes too. i don’t know for how many years now i’ve been Not assuming i’d be alive by the next year, but here i am having gotten this far, at least. it’s fairly impressive even if i don’t have any amazing achievements. believe it or not i’m pretty satisfied with my Achievements as just like, dumbass blog posts and fic/art and occasionally contributing something someone enjoys and getting to talk to people sometimes. it’s how i’ve been able to enjoy myself in the midst of some really awful times for the past like 6 yrs and i’ve appreciated it every day i’ve gotten to surf the net

like i guess it’s like haha, nerd, that half of what i’m worried about is being offline. but it’s a big deal being able to connect w the world beyond your immediate reach and distract yourself and say things and maybe even Enjoy yourself and also actually get to talk to people. but hey sometimes even people who live on the street manage to snag wifi connections somehow. i’d have to ask them how, lol. but, yknow, like i said, for a couple weeks especially it’s been like , Not Assuming I’ll NOT Lose Internet Connection and thus really trying to bear down on appreciating it. not like being offline for 5 months or so didn’t also make me appreciate it extra already. i was gonna say i survived it but i did get wildly depressed throughout like, august? september? probably both lol. anyways. what i’m trying to say i guess is that i’m not actually assuming i’ll be okay, but that only means so much because like, not to sound dramatic but i’ve pretty much never been okay on account of ive been just a half step away from living on the streets ever since leaving my parents house where i’d previously lived my whole life, which was an abusive situation. and also the depression and the years of really wanting to die which, at least 2018 didn’t have TOO much of that, in terms of feeling like it might be impending. now i can’t really be bothered, i’m just floating along and if i die i die, right. what i’m trying to say is, there’s not really any Good Proper option to choose where i’m definitely okay, so it’s basically about choosing between bad options, and with this choice i might at least like the location a little better, change of scenery, not as cold as here, i dunno. there’s not a way to just choose my way into being okay. it’s all a roll of the dice anyhow

also it’s weird but one thing about being on my own is it takes the pressure off me in certain ways and it’s a bit easier for me to Do things. if there’s anyone else to answer to in any way, i tend to just not ever decide anything and definitely don’t pursue anything. i’m one of those ppl who either has to live alone or with ppl they’re really really really comfortable with, and since i don’t have the latter around and nobody especially me can afford the former, it’s like, well, how is not everybody homeless anyway, right? and people do it. because yknow, you have to do it, it’s suddenly just your situation and somehow people get through every day. idk. learn as you go. what can ya do. it’s choosing between various bad options, i could also just wander into the mountains and die, but i’d rather not, and offing myself is Way a hassle, and also would be difficult, same as dying of exposure/dehydration in this middle of nowhere patch of mtns. i might as well try my luck at being in a place where you COULD maybe survive or something, and where i could at least feel like, if i do manage to have any good things happen, i would even possibly want to be in that area and be more comfortable living there. i have no roots anywhere and only have a No Zone (near my parents house) and so its sorta like, pick a random place to be!! lol. ahhhh

what can i say. it also sucks having to think “boy, in addition to not dying, hope i don’t get physically/sexually assaulted—also, how do people get water??” but......such is the way that it is. i don’t know. i don’t think anybody looks at impending homelessness and goes “i’m okay about this and not at all afraid.” and it’s strange to talk about how this is sort of ~by choice~ but it’s not exactly, in that i didn’t choose to only have abusive family and how even though i was working while living in my car it would never have been enough for rent probably even if i had someone to split it with and i also didn’t choose to not be rich in the first place and *the economy...... .png*

sigh. i dunno, it’s hard because i can’t talk about it a right way or long enough and get to a point i don’t feel intimidated or upset that once i Go Offline i’ll for real just be on my own unless and until i manage to get online for a moment again, in which case i’ll still be on my own, but i’ll feel a bit less alone, ha ha

anyways. speaking of trying to appreciate the simple pleasures of talking about whatever weird shit i wanna talk about and pushing myself to draw/write as it feels like it gets even more down to the wire—time to do that! 4 am and time to draw this weird meme & hopefully crank out the rest of this oneshot & maybe even draw again, and maybe again—it’s cool cuz i slept weird the other night and then got again weirdly tired in the afternoon and took a long depression nap w sorta fun, sorta bizarre dreams. augh. so at least i figure i’m just cruisin now, Not Sleeping-wise

i might have to ask a favor eventually in that there’s something really super simple i ought to look up, but i’d have a ton of trouble making myself do so because of anxiety, yknow how it is. but i’ll ask that if and when i ask it

[wonderlustlucas]

warmth - wong yukhei

⇢ prompt It’s like a breath of fresh air on the first day of spring, filling you to the brim with new life and you can't get enough. ⇢ pairing yukhei x female reader ⇢ word count 16k ⇢ genre fluff & slight smut ⇢ warnings oh my GOD the fluff in this killed me, resuscitated me, & then hit me with a car. if you squint really hard there is like a teaspoon of smut & implied s e x ⇢ summary Meeting NCT was definitely not something you or your best friend ever imagined would actually happen on your road to stardom, but Wong Yukhei falling for you never once crossed your mind. Lucky for you, a touch of jealousy, fifteen rounds of Fortnite, impromptu snuggling, and a splash of soju is the perfect recipe for falling in love. ⇢ a/n ok FIRST OF ALL since this is my first actual fic im posting i feel like i should warn u all & apologize for my use of italics, im a little obsessed cuz when i go over & read what ive typed i always put emphasis on specific words so ya just roll w that. secondly i tried sosososo hard to include every member but obviously some got more spotlight than others thats just how the cookie crumbled BUT I TRIED. and lastly the beginning to this is a little rough but i swear it gets better trust me on this, warmth is my bby rn & im proud cuz it gets real good as u keep reading. enjoy:)

“Kim Mina and ___ ___, welcome! Take a seat! How are you?”

Yuna’s greeting is welcoming but it barely calms your nerves. Your grip on Mina’s hand is like iron, but you finally have to let go and give your best smile before shimmying onto the high stool. Mina starts the small talk with the two anchors and you can’t help but silently thank her. Lord knows small talk was not your thing.

Meanwhile, you glance around the large room, taking it all in—from the brightness of all the screens to the professional video cameras facing in your direction and all the way to the small crowd of fans cheering outside. How did you end up here?

“So, tell me, what started this amazing journey the two of you have gotten yourselves into?” Seojun, the second anchor, asks with a beaming grin. You look to Mina and she nods to you in approval. Deep breathe. Don’t panic.

“Well, Mina and I have been best friends, if you’d like to put it that simply, since we were freshmen,” the three chuckle at your comment, “we both shared and bonded over our love for BTS, actually, and then Seventeen, NCT, Red Velvet, and so on.”

You pause to lick your lips and take a deep gulp of air.

“We both weren’t very active nor athletic. First, we played volleyball, then lacrosse, and we even tried golf but sports just wasn’t really our thing. So, we eventually settled for a gym membership and spent a lot of time there together, and over time we really got into shape,” you stop again to laugh when Yuna reaches out to poke at Mina’s very prominent bicep muscle.

“And so one-day junior year we were jamming to, uh, I don't know,” you laugh, glancing to Mina. “BBoom BBoom,” she says, “by MOMOLAND.”

You smile to yourself at the fond memory. “Anyway, Mina randomly suggested that we should learn the full choreography and not just random parts. At first, I laughed at her ‘cause I thought there was no way either of us was bright enough to remember the full thing. But she was so serious about it that I eventually just agreed to it to humor her, and we actually learned it by ourselves.”

“It wasn’t as easy as I thought, though,” Mina interrupts, “it took a really, really long time just to get the footwork and so many times I knew ___ wanted to shoot herself for agreeing to do this,” she laughs and the three of you join her. “But once we got it, we recorded it, and we were just amazed. Like, ‘Wow, we did that! That’s us!’ and we showed everyone we knew. The sense of pride motivated us to do it again. So we did Mic Drop by BTS, and when we uploaded it on YouTube it really blew up within our school,” Mina stops and looks at you to continue.

“Our friends and family really started spreading the word about us after the fourth or fifth video we uploaded. In the meantime, a lot of kids thought we were really weird for, you know, putting ourselves out there like that. But it was just so fun to dance that we really didn’t care about both the positive or negative feedback we were getting. After all, we were only seventeen, you know. But things really started getting serious about two months ago when we uploaded Baby Don’t Stop from NCT U and CLAP from Seventeen. Someone big must have stumbled upon our account because a week later we were in the newspaper. Something about ‘arising local stars,’ I think,” you pause when Yuna shuffles through her papers to pull out the exact article you were talking about.

“Yep,” she pauses to flip through the papers, “‘___ ___ and Kim Mina: Small-town Seniors to Stardom,’ wow, so you two really caught someone’s eye,” she comments as Seojun nods in agreement.

“So yeah, that’s basically it. We still plan to graduate high school and all, but right now we’re not sure if we want to go to college at this point. We have a steady income as of right now and hopefully, we can really make this into a career. It’s kind of our passion at this point, not just a hobby,” you finish, fixing the collar of the rather fitting romper you were wearing.

“Wow,” Seojun comments and brings his hands up to clap, “talk about an inspiring story.”

“Hopefully. We tell our followers that even if you may feel really lost in the world right now, you will find something that you’re passionate about, it’ll just take time and probably some stupid idea,” Mina concludes with a beaming smile and an arm around your neck, tugging you in close.

Yuna and Seojun coo in unison at the affectionate act and you can’t help but squeeze Mina back.

“So, we have a few more questions,” Yuna finally says after you pull away from your best friend. You sit up straighter in your seat and nod excitedly.

“This one’s easy. Who is your favorite group?” Seojun asks once he’s done flipping through the pile of note cards in his hands.

“NCT, for the both of us,” Mina replies easily, and you nod in agreement. “And do you have a bias, as I’ve heard you call it, in the group?” Yuna asks and you immediately feel the heat rush to your cheeks. It wasn’t that you’re embarrassed, you just don’t want to talk about it.

So, yeah, maybe you’re embarrassed.

“Uh-oh, ___ is red,” Seojun catches on and you squawk in embarrassment, having to hide your face from the cameras just so those watching wouldn’t be able to see you flush so badly. “Well, my bias is Taeyong,” Mina replies while soothingly patting your arm to get you to look back up.

“Yukhei,” you eventually squeak out after sitting up.

“Which choreography so far has been you’re favorite?” Yuna moves on instead of picking on your red-hot embarrassment anymore and you quietly thank the gods.

“Oh geez, I can’t choose one. CLAP, HIGHLIGHT, Burning Up, DNA, Cherry Bomb, 7th Sense, Baby Don’t Stop, Boss... all favorites. No way we could simplify it to one,” Mina laughs after naming off a few.

“Alright, last question before the surprise,” Yuna says, winking at the camera mischievously, “if you could go back in time, would you have started this journey earlier than you had?”

You glance at Mina and pause to think for a moment. Would you? Mina opens her mouth to say something but closes it again, clearly stumped by the question.

“No,” you speak up, “I think the way we did it worked out in the best way possible. It started as a joke for us, but the music we love turned it into something we’re passionate about. If we started this when we were any younger, we wouldn’t have been as mature and probably wouldn’t have gotten as much attention as we have. We would’ve looked like even more idiots to the public. It all happened for a reason, and I wouldn’t want to change it one bit, you know?” You rant, picking at your nails as you do so. Was that too much? Too little? Hopefully I didn't sound cocky.

“There you have it, folks! Wise words from eighteen-year olds ___ ___ and Kim Mina!” Seojun cheers and Yuna claps. Mina bows and you smile appreciatively. “Don’t leave just yet! After this commercial break, Mina and ___ will be performing live before the show ends! Stay tuned everybody!” Yuna finally announces and you can finally breathe again now that the cameras are off.

“Go on and get changed, kiddos. Don’t wanna miss your own performance,” Seojun smiles. “Thank you. And thank you for having us. This was amazing,” you reply, hopping off the seat and giving him and Yuna firm handshakes before storming backstage with Mina.

“You spoke so well! What the fuck? What happened to little ol’ ___ stuttering and dying when she has to present?” Mina exclaims excitedly, spinning you into a hug in the dressing room. “I don't know! I just—I have no idea! I felt so, so... proud, you know? Look how far we’ve gotten,” You speak hurriedly, peeling everything off your body.

“I know, this is crazy. I feel like I’m gonna shit myself,” Mina replies as you both unclasp each other’s bras to replace them with sports bras. “Me too. I don’t know why I’m so nervous to perform, we could do this choreo asleep, with our eyes closed, and our legs cut off,” you exaggerate, tugging up your ripped black skinny jeans and hopping around to get them up.

“With our legs cut off?” Mina laughs as she pulls up her denim shorts. “But no, I feel you. It’s because it’s live, we usually have the comfort of knowing that we can mess up without anyone knowing,” she explains as you push your arms through the sleeves of the cropped white tank you decided on.

The two of you finish getting dressed, quickly stretch, and hurry back out before you actually are late. “Good luck, don’t mess up,” Mina whispers, fixing your braids and giving your hands a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “Thanks, asshole. You too.”

Baby Don’t Stop starts from the speakers, extremely loud but too quiet and exhilarating but soothing all at the same time. It’s a natural habit now—the way your body moves to Ten’s absolutely panty-dropping voice and Taeyong’s aggressive rapping—arms twisting in ways that used to hurt and legs reaching new angles every second.

But it’s happening all too quickly—you want it to slow down so you can bask in the feeling of doing what you love for everyone to see.

You find yourself singing along like you usually do, and start to worry that it could be heard. What if you sound like a crow, squawking Ten and Taeyong’s beautiful lyrics? Focus. You mentally slap yourself when you lean over a minute and a half in to scratch Mina’s chin and head. So you keep going.

You always dance Ten’s role—it was something you begged Mina when you chose Baby Don’t Stop as the next choreography you two would learn. Mina had no problem with it, considering she wanted to dance her own bias’ moves.

Two minutes in and you were officially breathing heavier after the last few complicated moves you had to do. Then the transition to Cherry Bomb started and you took a couple much needs breathes before continuing.

These last two minutes of Cherry Bomb you performed were always the hardest, especially since it was mainly beats rather than actual singing or rapping. There were so many movements that needed perfecting, so many angles that needed to be reached, and so many changes that had to be done quickly all had your head spinning.

Your legs are burning. God, they hurt. You can feel the sweat dripping across your neck, down your spine, and into the waistline of your jeans like a waterfall. However, you receive an adrenaline rush sent by the heavens after the first time you have to fall back onto the floor only to quickly lean back up and do a few more grueling flips and tumbles.

After your very difficult part on the floor, you finally rejoin Mina for the last forty seconds to begin your descent to an almost-split before jumping back up and finishing the song.

The loud music is cut off and you are left with only you and Mina’s heavy breathing, blood rushing in your ears, and the loud applause coming from the crew, anchors, and friends and family off to the side.

Oh my God. We did it. You quickly turn to Mina and engulf her into the tightest hug of your life, not caring about the slick layer of perspiration between you. “I’m so proud of you,” you mumble into her neck, giving her one last squeeze. “Of us,” she quips as Seojun and Yuna stop next to her.

“Kim Mina and ___ ___, ladies and gentlemen! Thank you all for watching and have a wonderful night!”

You wave tiredly at the camera and give a weak smile, but all you can focus on is how heavy your breathing is and an annoying bead of sweat rolling down into your asscrack. Seojun and Yuna say something about relaxing for a while in the private lounge upstairs and as soon as you hear water and brownies you’re off, racing Mina up the stairs no matter how badly your legs scream at you not to.

“I can’t believe we did that!” Mina screams, spinning around and making a bee-line for the table full of beverages and food. You quickly yank your sweaty tank off your body, crumble it up in a ball, and toss it at her head. “Oh my God, you’re a disgusting, repulsive, ugly, sickening rat,” she hisses, swatting your outreaching hand away.

You chuckle to yourself as you grab a water bottle, pausing for a moment to grimace at the copious amount of sweat in your cleavage before cracking the cap off of the bottle and nearly inhaling the delightfully cold, refreshing liquid.

“You know, maybe we should just forget about this. I’m so tired of the way you treat me,” you start, finishing the bottle before cracking open another one without even glancing her way.

“___,” she starts to interrupt, but you don’t let her. “Like, the amount of disrespect I get is nauseating,” you continue while reaching for a brownie and basically shoving the whole thing in your mouth. “___,” she says again.

“I just don’t understand. I do nothing but love and support you, clean the house, nurse our children,” you pause to chew on a chocolate chip cookie, “pick up the dog’s shit, for crying out loud! And this is what I get back?” You finally end your sarcastic rant, popping pieces of cut fruit into your mouth before breaking into a fit of giggles.

“___!” she shouts this, and you finally look at her, wondering if you’ve somehow offended her. You follow her gaze once you realize she’s not even paying any mind to you or your shenanigans.

And there they are.

All eighteen of them.

Right across the room.

The water bottle doesn’t make it to your mouth this time but instead falls from your grip and onto the floor. You don’t even notice it, considering all eighteen fucking members of NCT are sitting only a few yards away, their mouths slightly agape and a shocked expression mirroring your own.

You don’t know how long it takes for one of you to finally say something. “Am I hallucinating or is NCT in our room?” Mina whispers.

You blink hard. Rub your eyes. Pinch your skin. “No. They’re there.”

And then you sob. You don’t know what happened, but something within you snaps and a choke sounds from your lips and tears swell from your eyes.

“Oh my God, don’t cry,” someone says and seconds later engulfs you in a hug.

They were here. In the same room as you. Had they watched you perform? Were they invited, or did they coincidentally have an interview here as well? You sob into the jacket of whoever is holding you, your knees buckling beneath you as they hold you.

“Why are you crying?” None other than Nakamoto Yuta asks quietly, his hand placed gently on your head rubbing soothing circles.

You finally pull away and wipe underneath your eyes. When you look up at him you nearly choke again. He’s so beautiful. “I—how? I just—where did you? What the fuck?” You cry again and nearly melt into a pathetic puddle when he wipes the tears from your eyes.

“Should we leave?” Yuta laughs, his hands resting on your bare shoulders. “No!” You shout, too loudly. You look down in embarrassment. “Okay, good. I was beginning to wonder you actually didn’t like us,” he chuckles again, and this time you look at his face and nearly faint when you see his gorgeous smile you’ve spent hours gawking over.

“No, never. I’m just... confused? How—who? How did you guys get here?” You stutter, shaking under his gaze.

“Well, we were kind of notified that you two would be performing our songs and thought it would be pretty cool to surprise you,” a new voice appears. You feel like throwing up when Mark Lee comes into view.

“I don’t—I literally don’t know how to talk anymore. How is this happening?” You whisper to yourself, hoping they don’t hear you but by their chuckles they apparently do. “Sorry we surprised you to the point you practically shit yourself,” another someone laughs.

Lee Je No has joined your little circle now too, and you reach out to the table next to you to stand properly. “Sorry, give me a moment,” you chuckle, not because you find it funny, but because you’re so entirely wound up you think death is quite possible.

After a moment or so of you controlling your breath and the three awkwardly standing there, you finally lean up and look over them again. Calm down, idiot. They’re people. People that you have read smut about way too many times and have cried your heart out over. But still people.

“Hi, I’m ___,” you eventually opt for, reaching out to whoever. Yuta takes your hand first, then Jeno, and finally Mark. They introduce themselves as if it was totally normal. Mina!

“One second,” you quip, shuffling over to see Mina in her own little circle of Park Ji Sung, Kim Jungwoo, Kim Dong Young, and Lee Tae Yong.

She was with Taeyong!

You scan over the rest of NCT some who are in their conversations or awkwardly standing there. After all, it was eighteen meeting two. Your eyes don’t stay on one person for too long, just because your excitement is so overwhelming and you need to see everyone.

Wong Yukhei. There he was. Six feet tall in all his glory, rocking on his heels as he laughed loudly with Qian Kun. “Lucas is here,” you say suddenly and to no one in particular.

Your statement comes off more as a question and the trio laugh. “Well, he is part of NCT, is he not?” Mark asks with a grin. “Shush, she’s going through a midlife crisis over here. You heard her earlier,” Yuta retorts with an elbow to Mark’s side.

“Oh God, did he hear me say that he’s my bias?” You hiss, slapping yourself on the forehead. “Well, we were all watching, so I’d say so by the way he blushed about a hundred shades red,” Jeno says, giving your shoulder a squeeze. He blushed?

“C’mon, you should meet everyone,” Marks luckily saves the day and changes the subject. He reaches for your hand and you take it gently, looking down in hot embarrassment. You aren’t wearing your shirt! You’re mouth forms an ‘o’ as recognition hits you like a train and you let go of his hand to pick up the crumpled shirt on the floor.

Even after you pull the damp tank back on you still feel incredibly embarrassed for having been so exposed to the boys and can’t seem to shake it from your mind until you start meeting everyone.

It’s awkward at first, but they’re all incredibly sweet—sweeter than they are online—and you fit right in. After thirty minutes or so, you’re finally led to the last few members.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Lucas. What do I say? Act normal? Pretend he isn’t my lock screen or the reason I’ve been up until four in the morning on so many nights? You have yet another midlife crisis and opt to just smile at him.

But you can’t look away. The tall, beautiful, genuine, hilarious, pure, wonderful boy you never in a million years thought would be so close. You can barely breath when his eyes lock with yours and every working brain cell disintegrates.

His lips. They were even plusher and poutier in person and you wanted nothing more than to touch them. His dark hair fell messily over his forehead while a few blonde strands brushed his long eyelashes and you nearly cried at how soft and fluffy it looked. Defined eyebrows, darkdarkdark brown eyes, sharp jaw, and the soft slope of his nose were the only things you were focused on and yet you couldn’t find yourself to care despite the incredibly long staring contest the two of you were having.

“I was just telling everyone that you’re my mini-me,” Ten giggles and it finally brings you back to reality. You look away from Lucas to quirk an eyebrow at Ten’s statement. Just how long were you staring? Long enough to not know what they’re talking about, clearly. “You know,” he elbows you, “you dance my part in Baby Don’t Stop.”

“Oh,” you laugh, curling into him when his arm drapes over your shoulder, “I wouldn’t say I’m a mini you. Nowhere’s close.”

“You’re lying,” Lucas interjects and it takes everything in you to look at him again. “I think you dance it even better than Ten,” he teases and when he laughs something deep within the confines of your heart sparks—it’s a loud, hearty laugh that you swear on your life is the best sound you have ever heard. Your mouth falls open at his compliment and can’t help the hotness that rushes up your neck and onto your cheeks.

“Ouch,” Ten fakes to cry, finally removing his arm to place his hand over his heart. What were you to say? You simply could not form a coherent reply and instead stood there like an idiot, completely starstruck.

Eventually, conversations start to slow down and everyone is sitting, either on their phone or piling junk food onto plants and chowing down. You find yourself gravitating to the empty seat next to Mina and as soon as you sit down, she grins at you.

“What have we gotten ourselves into?” You laugh, toying with rips in your jeans. “I don’t know. All I do know is that I don’t ever want them to leave,” she sighs, and the realization hits you.

They were going to have to go eventually, and no matter how close they lived to you or not, the chances of ever being able to see them were incredibly low. It was like a dagger to the heart, twisting and digging into you as the disappointment settled in. “At least we got to meet them,” you whisper, trying to be optimistic.

“I know, but now that I’ve had a taste, I want the full platter,” she mumbles and you feel like smacking her for having to sound so wise.

Before you can reply, Chenle appears next to Mina and leans on his elbows, wisps of blonde hair falling into his eyes. “Hey, so, would you guys want to come back to the dorms with us? We’re doing a vLive and thought it would be cool to have you guys in it. It’ll be a truth or dare kind of thing with all of us. You guys should come.”

You gape up at him. Go back to the dorms with them? “Could we take a shower?” Mina asks.

“Yeah, of course. vLive can wait,” he laughs, the high pitch of it makes you laugh as well. Mina looks at you, silently pleading to agree.

“I’ll have to ask my mom.”

It took a lot of pleading and begging and fake crying for both you and Mina’s parents to finally agree. After a whole lecture about boys only wanting to get into girls’ pants, arguing that they aren't like that, and making you promise to never leave each other’s sides, you were finally at the dorms.

After Jaehyun guided you both to the bathrooms, you finally got the shower you desperately needed. After shampoo and conditioner, you scrubbed the layer of dried sweat off your skin and simply stood under the warmth of the water. Your muscles were so damn sore, and you were so incredibly exhausted that you feared you would be knocked out and miss out on the fun.

When someone knocked on the door and teased you about taking forever, you started to feel bad and eventually turned the water off. You dried, brushed your damp hair, and swapped your towel for leggings and a black t-shirt that stopped mid-thigh all under fifteen minutes before finally exiting the bathroom.

You hear laughter coming from down the hall and aimlessly follow in that direction, hoping to find your newfound... friends and not walk into some important meeting. Although, who would be meeting at seven o'clock at night?

“___, we got pizza!” Johnny calls from across the room, being the first to notice your entrance. Wow. The dance practice room is even bigger in person? Your fingers trace the mirrors on every wall as you make your way over, completely entranced with the large room.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” Win Win asks, clearly catching onto your awe. “Yeah, I can’t believe how... how big it is,” you gape, spinning on your heels to take it all in again. Imagine how awesome it would be to have all this space!

“That’s what she said,” someone comments, and you look over to see Jaehyun smirking and can't help but laugh at his stupid line. “How original,” you snort while the rest of the boys roar in laughter.

“How did you manage to finish before me?”

You’re surprised when Mina appears by your side but also relieved that she’s finally here. “’Dunno, a lot of weird things have happened today.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Are you guys going to eat or did we order four boxes for nothing?” Taeyong asks and you roll your eyes while Mina mumbles something along the lines of ‘so damn aggressive’ in your ear.

You skip over to the table and grab at a slice while discerning where to sit. Were you to just sit anywhere randomly? By yourself? With someone in particular? This is awkward. Jaemin must have read your mind since he calls you over and pats the open spot on the windowsill next to him.

“Thanks,” you smile, pulling your legs up and sitting crisscross. “So,” he starts, and you glance up at him.

Damn.

Jaemin always had a special place in your heart, so having him right here in front of you made concentrating on one part of his face rather difficult. “So.”

“I thought you and Mina’s whole story was really cool. Since it started as a joke and such,” he says, casually leaning back against the window. “Aw, thank you! As much as it would be super cool to be able to tell people dancing has been our passion our whole life, that’s just not the case. We just lucked out, I guess.”

“Heck yeah, you did. I mean, look at you! It’s a shame you don't sing too—you’d really be a knock-out,” he compliments rather smoothly, crisscrossing his own legs so that your knees were now touching. You couldn’t tell if he was flirting or not, not that you minded, but quickly brushed it off.

“Nana, are you flirting with a girl older than you?”

You look up and nearly shit yourself when Lucas leans against the wall next to you, his muscular thighs just barely pressing gently against your bent knee. “That’s exactly what I’m doing,” Jaemin replies, clearly not fazed by Lucas’ sudden bossy front.

“Anyway, I’m off. Catch me later, yeah?” Jaemin beams, playfully bumping into your shoulder before hopping off the sill and walking away. Leaving you by yourself. With Yukhei.

“Hello,” he greets, his voice deep and his grin wide, making his big eyes scrunch up in delight. “Hi,” you squeak, voice quiet and rather pathetic. “I’m starting to think you don’t like me, ___, and I’m really hurt,” he sighs from his position still next to the wall. Very intimidating for such a soft boy. You take a deep breath. Act normal.

You scoff. “Ah, yes, Yukhei, I’m sorry to break it to you, but I don’t like you.”

“You know you can call me Lucas.”

“I’m aware,” you laugh, suddenly hyper-aware of the sudden lack of space when he leans even closer. “Then why do you call me Yukhei?”

You swallow the thump in your throat and force yourself to look at the boy you have once claimed your undying love for. “’Dunno. I’ll start calling you Lucas if you really want me to.”

“No! No—I didn’t mean it like that. I just—never mind.” Bingo. Finally broke his little facade. “Gosh, Yukhei, you shouldn’t be flirting with a younger girl,” you use his words to Jaemin somewhat against him, and the sudden confidence has you grinning up at him. His mouth hangs open a bit.

Before he replies, Taeyong claps and everyone’s attention is on him. “We’re starting the vLive so if everyone could somehow come over here that would be fantastic.”

You shift off the windowsill after popping the last piece of pizza in your mouth and look up at Lucas, who’s still looking at you with his jaw slack. “Sorry, I’ll go back to being nervous around you,” you tease before bouncing back over to the two sofas.

Despite everyone’s pleas for you and Mina to sit on the couch, you opt for the floor and sit next to Jaehyun who greets you with a heartwarming smile. “Have you ever done a vLive before?” He asks once you’re comfortably settled next to him.

“Oh yeah, we’ve done a few. It’s kind of hard when you’re still a senior and have a shit ton of homework. Plus trying to learn new choreography takes a lot of free time,” you laugh. “I mean, you would know,” you add, hoping to not sound cocky.

“I feel that,” he smiles, moving his arm from between you to rest around your shoulders. You can’t help but smile at it.

“And... we’re on!” Jungwoo cheers, finally moving away from the phone set up on a tripod a few feet away. Everyone cheers and waves so you awkwardly join in, hoping to somewhat seem as if you aren’t freaking out internally.

Taeil, Mark, and Renjun go back and forth asking everyone watching to drop questions along with ‘good dares because we’re not pussies in this bitch,’ as Haechan whispered from behind you. It doesn’t take long for the comments to start flooding in, and you watch from Mina’s phone that a lot of them are mainly asking who you and she are.

“Guys, this is Kim Mina,” Taeyong finally announces, patting her head from his spot on the floor next to her.

“And this is my best friend ___ ___!” Jaehyun shouts, pulling you into his chest. “Woo!” You cheer, your heart ready to burst at his outburst of affection. “If you guys didn’t catch their performance today, definitely check out their YouTube channel. Super talented gals,” Taeyong finishes.

“Except they don’t sing!” Jaemin shouts and you glance back to give him a playful glare.

“Actually, I heard ___ singing my part in Baby Don’t Stop today,” Ten interjects and you want to die. The boys break into a chorus of ‘oooh’s, turning their attention to him. “She’s pretty good, not gonna lie. Not as good as me, of course,” he giggles.

You laugh, more thankful that you apparently don’t sound like a toad from Hell itself when you absentmindedly sing along during performances.

“I found a question!” Yuta hoots. “Mina and ___, are you dating anybody?”

You glance at Mina and break into a fit of laughter. “If we were dating anybody we definitely would not be here right now. Plus no one in our school wants to date us, we’re losers. So no, we’re not dating anyone,” Mina laughs.

“Way to lighten the mood,” Chenle cackles like a dolphin somewhere behind you.

“Oh, I got a dare. Jungwoo, you have been dared to slap Doyoung’s booty,” Jaehyun calls from next to you. Ah, yes. You’d finally get to see Dowoo in action.

After a few moments the two get up and stand right in front of you, and Jungwoo gives the most aggressive slap he could have done that has the whole room roaring in laughter while Doyoung basically cries.

“Mina, someone asked you to marry them, what do you say?” Ten shouts. “Sure! I’ll marry you!” The pretty girl next to you says to the phone, adding a charming wink that has them laughing again.

“Wow, I feel left out on this one. But someone asked that Mina, ___, and everyone from the Firetruck music video perform the first minute of the choreo,” Jeno reads and your eyes nearly bug out of your head. More dancing? “I don't think my legs can take any more moving,” Mina sighs.

“I’m with you on that one.”

“Do you know this?” Mark asks, walking with you to push the tripod back so everyone could fit within the frame.

“Yeah, might be a little dusty though,” you laugh. “That’s okay, so are we,” Yuta reassures before getting into his position. The song begins and luckily it only takes you a few moments for it to come back to you, but the song is paused after at the minute mark even before you can really get into it or break a sweat.

“That was fun,” you comment, sitting back down next to Mina and Jaehyun. His arm goes back around your shoulders and you’re left thinking way too far into it, your heart beating wildly at the older boy’s sudden attachment.

“Truth for Mina again: how are you so gorgeous?” Chenle reads and you watch as her face turns a deep shade of red that has you all cooing at her. “I’m not. But thank you,” she rushes and you smack the back of her head.

“I got a dare! Ha. Jisung, you have to eat a raw egg,” Jungwoo giggles and everyone cries ‘eww’ in unison. “I hate you all,” he grumbles, getting up and jogging out of the room. Moments later the blue-headed boy returns, glass in hand.

“You’re all going to burn in Hell for this,” he says before bringing the glass to his lips and chugging the egg down like a shot.

“Ehhhhhhh, ew, oh gosh, ewww,” he whines second later, his tongue wiggling out of his mouth and his face contorting into a disgusted grimace.

“Dare for ___ and Mina! You guys have to do splits,” Johnny reads, glancing up from his phone to wiggle his eyebrows at you.

“I can’t do a split,” you grumble, stumbling up to your feet. You move away a little and suddenly feel incredibly self-conscious when Mina goes down once and gets it perfectly. Your mouth hangs open. “Yeah, I don’t do that.”

“Try!” Someone hoots and you opt for a straddle since you almost have that during Cherry Bomb. You start to spread your legs, going lower and lower until the muscles in your thighs are screaming. “You got it!” Mina cheers you on, “helping” you by pushing your back lightly.

Instead, you lose your balance and stumble over, groaning when your chin hits the hard floor. “Thanks, stupidhead,” you mumble, your face red in embarrassment because you just face planted in front of NCT and their fan base.

You stand back up and brush yourself off with a smile, trying to seem unbothered, especially when Jaehyun shoots you a sympathetic smile from the floor. You make your way to the table and pour yourself a cup of soda despite the fact that Lucas was right there, ignoring him altogether to avoid another awkward encounter.

But, unfortunately yet somewhat, fortunately, he has a different idea. Before you can manage to walk away, his large hands reach out, attach to your waist, and pull you down until your sitting rigidly on his lap, perfectly set within the space of his chest and the arm of the sofa.

You attempt to not think too far into it, reminding yourself of all the times members randomly pull one another into each other’s laps. But this was Lucas, pulling you onto his lap. Your heart is beating sporadically now, all the blood rushing to your head and goosebumps rising along your skin.

He clearly notices it, too, since his one hand still on your waist squeezes while the fingers on his other trace the bumps on your forearm. You twist your head to look at him. “What are you doing?” You hiss after it finally hits you—people were watching.

“Am I still you’re favorite?” He grins, obviously mocking the question posed by Yuta. “Not right now you aren’t,” you retort, eyes wide when he laughs loud and incredibly obnoxious. Now everyone was really looking.

“Sorry! ___ is just super funny!” He laughs again and your eyes go wide as everyone takes in the scene before them. After they all get over it and go back to the vLive, you look at him again.

“Are you on drugs? What’s up with you? You’re even crazier in person,” you whisper, your voice clearly shrinking when his hands go back to wrap snugly across your stomach. “Not crazy.” Is all he says.

“What, then? Are you suddenly super clingy or something? Or just drunk out of your mind?” You keep egging him on—you need to know what’s going through his damn head. “First Jaemin, then Jaehyun, and then everyone’s whispering about you,” he replies, his voice deep and raspy in your ear.

“Excuse me?”

“Gotta make sure I’m still you’re favorite,” he whispers, smiling innocently against your shoulder. Your mouth falls agape. What the fuck was going on? Since when? How? When did this all happen?

As the vLive dragged on, there wasn’t many dares or questions posed anymore, and everyone was just joking around and talking. At times when both you and Lucas were laughing, you thought you could make an escape but his long fingers became an iron grip on your ribs if you even tried moving. And he was acting so normal; still cracking jokes and making faces and acting like an idiot as if you weren’t even there.

So, you eventually give up and decide you might as well get comfortable, moving around so his hip bone wasn’t uncomfortably digging into you or that you weren’t awkwardly just plopped on his lap. After all, it’s not like your making out with him or doing anything bad. Sitting on laps was a fairly normal thing, right?

And oh God, did he smell like heaven. It was as if sandalwood and peppermint were clouding your brain, and every time you glanced up you got a little peek at his gentle features you had found yourself so in love with when he first debuted. How did you find yourself so close to someone that nearly fills up half of your camera roll?

“Anyway, guys, I think we’re gonna log out for tonight.”

You turn your attention back to the original reason you were even here, heart thumping against your chest and whole body on fire. You cannot concentrate with Yukhei’s body heat warming you head to toe and his breathing against your neck or his occasional laugh, let alone his long fingers spread across the dips of your waist and his thighs beneath your own. You blink until you refocus, quickly realizing everyone was waving and shouting goodbye. With an apprehensive and rather awkward wave, you watch in relief as Taeyong finally ends the live.

You hold your breath—what now? As soon as his grip loosens you’re up, moving a few feet away to stretch and simply breath. Lucas follows after a few seconds, raising his long arms over his head and stretching them with a yawn.

“That was fun,” he says with a smile plastered on his face. You glare at him, not entirely too sure what to say. What was there to even say? ‘Hey man, what the fuck was that?’ or were you to just act normal about it? And what were the NCTzens going to say or do, and how many questions were going to be asked? Hopefully, people wouldn't delve that far into it.

“You guys should always come over when we go live,” he says, rocking on his heels. Oh, was this what we were going to do? Act normal? “I don’t think your fans would like that very much,” you laugh awkwardly.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“I mean, or we could always use more members for NCT. Make it twenty,” he jokes and you truly laugh this time. “Yeah, no. I’m holding out until NCT Antarctica.”

“That would be exciting, you could impress everyone with your almost-there-but-not-really split,” he teases, laughing loudly again. There you go being embarrassed again, face burning red. “Shut up.”

“I’m kidding, I certainly can’t do that,” he says. “Gee, that makes me feel better,” you scoff playfully, rolling your eyes. He gasps. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Hey, I hate to say this, but are you ready to go? I’m so knocked.”

Before you can reply Mina is next to you, pressing her body weight onto your side. “Uh, yeah, I’m ready if you are,” you smile to her sympathetically. “Thank the heavens, I could sleep for a year.”

“Mina and ___ are leaving, guys!” Lucas suddenly shouts and everyone breaks into a chorus of ‘aww’s. Ignoring the painfully obvious disappointment, you and Mina say goodbye to each member, offering a hug and quick exchange of appreciative pleasantries.

“What’s your numbers? We’re adding you to a group chat,” Ten says after releasing you from a hug. “What?”

He beams at you and you stutter your number out, Mina doing the same, and watch in complete astonishment as Ten types them into his phone. “Thanks,” he grins again, bringing you into another quick hug. He and Lucas walk the two of you to the door, and when Lucas wraps his arms around your waist after hugging Mina you feel as if you’re literally flying—physically and emotionally—as he lifts your feet up off the ground.

“Bye, ___,” he mumbles after setting you back down. “’Night, Yukhei.”

“Am I still your favorite?”

“Yeah, don’t you worry.”

Forty-eight hours later when you’re in the middle of studying AP Chemistry vocabulary, you receive a text from a number not saved. When you swipe it open, it’s a group chat full of exactly twenty people, and the only name in there is Mina.

Seventy-two hours later you have plans for Saturday night.

Forty-four hours later, you are sitting on the same sofas from last week, watching NCT U practice Boss while the backup dancers give you and Mina the rundown.

You’re nervous. You’ve done this choreography before, basically have it memorized like the back road you take on the way home, but you never did it as a group. The version with just two people was significantly different; plus having to do it with NCT? You would’ve never dreamt of this in a million—trillion—years.

You spent way too much time watching the dance practice on their channel and practicing it with Mina. Both Jaehyun and Win Win were feeling ill, and although the live could have just been pushed back, Taeyong insisted the two of you came and joined in for ‘shits and giggles,’ as Mark texted.

Thankfully it was just a spur-of-the-moment thing and it wouldn't be uploaded anywhere. But it would be live, which meant absolutely zero mistakes.

Mina squeezes your hand when the two of you finally move to the boys and get in your respective positions, the live already started a few minutes ago. “You ready?” Lucas turns around from in front of you, offering a reassuring smile. You nod quickly, swallowing the lump in the back of your throat and focusing on the positives.

Hey, maybe this would help your future career. Being with NCT for the second time may shine some light on you and Mina and could possibly give you major popularity. Nothing but good could come out of this, you tell yourself.

The song starts and your mind completely goes into business mode, your brain remembering twists and turns correctly until you’re following each part spotlessly, especially Jaehyun’s solo part, no matter how awkward it is looking into the phone all to yourself.

And you can’t help but feel as if your pushing yourself harder simply because Lucas is there with you. Sure, you’re scared shitless of messing up, but knowing he might be watching most definitely gives you a push, even if you don't want to admit it.

But you mess up.

It’s minor—incredibly minuscule that no one besides you probably notices it. Your ankle twists in an awkward angle and a searing pain shoots up your Achilles tendon that has you breathless for a moment. You dance through it though, and the song ends before you even know it.

The only sound throughout the large room is the heavy breathing from everyone followed by a joyous cheer. “That was so fun, holy shit. Dancing with a group is so... so empowering,” Mina stammers with her hands on her hips, breath heavy. You simply nod in agreement, your mind too caught up in how much your foot burns. Fuck.

“Showers and pizza, yeah?” Doyoung asks, running a hand through his dampened hair. Everyone nods in silent agreement before splitting up in different directions in search of a free bathroom.

You wobble behind Mina and it doesn't take her long to realize something’s up.

“You're hurt,” she notes, watching the way you limp. “Yeah. It’s fine. I’ll be okay,” you mumble, shooting her a smile and ignoring the rise of her perfectly sculpted right eyebrow.

But it still hurts, even after your shower.

Simply trying to pull your cotton shorts up your leg is an ordeal and you’re left out of breath once you have them on. Instead of heading back to where everyone else is, you wander through the corridors for the kitchen and once you’re there, you open the freezer in search for an icepack.

“Whatcha looking for?” You practically jump out of your skin at Lucas’ sudden appearance, leaning on the counter. “An ice pack,” you grumble, shoving an ice-cream carton out of the way.

“Yo, yo, yo, no need to get aggressive with the Rocky Road, man. What do you need an icepack for?”

“Foot. Ankle. Tendon. That area,” you reply, lifting your foot and pointing to the now swollen area. “Foot-ankle-tendon, that’s new.”

“Shut up,” you laugh, lightly smacking his hand. “Sorry, sorry,” he laughs freely now, the loud, angelic sound filling the room. He scoots you out of the way and continues digging through the freezer until moments later, he comes up with a beloved icepack. You beam at him in appreciation.

“C’mon, follow me,” he says, linking his arm through yours and leading you down a different hallway. Once he opens the door and flicks the light switch on, you realize it’s his and Kun’s room and your mouth slightly falls open. “Sit.”

You do so quietly, watching from his bed as the tall boy rummages through a dresser and seconds later whips out an ace bandage. “I can do that, you know,” you laugh awkwardly, ogling at how his beautiful face scrunches up in concentration as he kneels down and begins to snugly wrap the whole area.

“You can also call me Lucas,” he retorts, pinning the bandage in place and kicking his door closed. Your heart beats faster now. “Oh my God, what’s wrong with calling you Yukhei? Unless you truly don’t like being called that,” you laugh as he plops down beside you and turns the television on. Your heart settles.

“No, I don’t mind. I’m just not used to people I’m not super close with calling me Yukhei,” he admits while flipping through channels. “Oh. I’m being honest, I’ll call you Lucas from now on if you want.”

“I’m teasing, you can call me anytime,” he looks over with a wink, but then his face falls, “wait.”

You genuinely laugh at him this time, watching as he frowns. “How did you forget the whole beginning to that pun?”

“I don’t know. Shut up,” he snickers, then tosses the remote down next to your leg with a huff. He quickly turns to you and you look expectedly at him. “Have you ever played Fortnite?”

You laugh again. “I’ve played mobile but never Xbox or PlayStation,” you admit, watching joyfully as his eyes light up. “Can I show you how to play? We can do duos. We have two TVs, Kun and I usually play together. I mean, only if you want, you don’t have to, but—”

“Yes, I’ll play!” You interrupt, your mouth truly hurting from laughing as the beautiful boy in front of you rambled on. “Really?” He beams.

“Really.”

“Oh my gosh, this is probably the best day ever. I’ve never been able to teach anyone how to play, it’s really so fun, well you said you’ve played before so you know, but still. I feel so bad for all the girlfriends in the world who don’t play and just get annoyed ‘cause they're really missing out, you know? I’m so happy you’re somewhat experienced though, that kind of makes this a little easier. But, ah! This will really be fun,” the tall boy goes on and on, and you simply listen with a smile on your face as he sets up the two screens.

“Oh, gosh, I’m sorry, I got super excited. I promise I’m not that weird,” he chuckles uncomfortably, looking at his feet while the Fortnite screen loads. “Pfft, don’t be sorry. And that wasn’t weird at all; super cute, actually,” you smile, surprising even yourself with your blunt honesty. The pink hue of his cheeks darken and your stomach leaps—you did that!

“Okay, this is just the lobby so I can show you some stuff before it actually starts,” Lucas says, sitting back on his bed and scooting to lay back against the wall. He passes you a PlayStation controller and cups your hands in his. “Okay, this is to move,” he demonstrates and you look up to your screen and back to his fingers.

He goes on and on from explaining the simple goal of the game to shooting, jumping, crouching, and so on, but in all honesty, all you can focus on is his soft hands on yours. Luckily once the game starts you sit in comfortable silence aside from random comments about finding a chest or ‘there’s a shield over here,’ until, alas, there are only twenty people left and you encounter another duo.

The two of you break into a chorus of shouts, warning each other and groaning when you mess up. Your aim isn’t horrific, but definitely not amazing, and you’re wasting ammo terribly. When you have to reload, the opponent shoots you dead and you drop your controller with an annoyed sigh. Seconds later, he dies as well.

“Sorry, that was my fault,” you grumble, wiping your now sweaty hands on your t-shirt. “Don’t worry, eighteenth place isn’t too shabby for your first duo,” he reassures you and sets his controller down.

“Are we going to play another?” You inquire and he raises a thick brow in response. “Do you want to?”

“Um, yeah!”

You play fourteen more rounds, ranging from fiftieth, seventeenth, sixth, and sometimes even fourth place. On your last round, however, Lucas dies and leaves you to battle the last duo.

With a clever jump while reloading, you’re able to quickly kill one player and when the last player hides behind a tree, you find the perfect angle and come in first place.

“Oh my God, we won! You won!” Lucas hoots, shaking you by your shoulders until you’re cheering with him. “Yes, yes, yes!” You shout, grinning ear to ear. “I’m so proud, now you can tell everyone I’m the best Fortnite tutor ever,” he brags, running his hand through his hair and you have to keep yourself from drooling.

You check your phone. 9:47 PM. You’ve been in here for two hours. “I think we’ve played enough for tonight,” he chuckles, turning one television off and switching the other to cable. Now what? Should I leave?

“Holy shit, Zootopia is on,” he suddenly gasps and you look over to see him wide-eyed. “I thought guys weren’t supposed to like stuff like this?”

“We’re not supposed to,” he shrugs, looking over at you with a wide grin, “but I can’t help myself.” You don’t reply and instead sink lower into the mattress, fixing the pillow behind your head in order to get comfier. You keep going back and forth from watching the movie and sneaking glances at Yukhei in his red sweatshirt, hood up and hiding most of his face. Regardless, you can still see strands of his soft hair falling into his eyes and the outline of his lips and begin to feel dizzy by something so incredibly simple but still so breathtaking.

Your eyes begin to grow heavy and burn from the brightness of the television compared to the darkness of the rest of his room and you force yourself to blink hard a few times to keep them from fluttering closed. Don't fall asleep now, he's so close. He was leaning his weight on you, slightly slumping on his side with his arm and thigh pressing against yours and you could feel him breathing.

You blink again, but you don’t open them right away this time just to give them a rest. A few minutes won’t hurt, right?

You quickly fall asleep to Nick Wilde telling Officer Judy Hopps that she needs to give him that pen.

Warmth.

That’s exactly what you wake up to—you can feel warm sunlight dancing on your bare arm and face as it shines shamelessly through the curtains, the white duvet tucked up to your neck engulfs you like a hug, and overall warmth surrounds you on this lovely morning.

Never getting up, you think to yourself, or maybe you even grumble it, you don’t know. You sigh softly and curl your arms and legs tighter around your body pillow, pressing your face against it and breathing in the familiar scent—

Wait.

You inhale deeply again. Sandalwood and peppermint.

Sandalwood and peppermint?

Your eyes are open in a millisecond, but you quickly squeeze them shut in fear of that what you think you saw isn't what’s actually there. You force yourself to peel an eye open again and nearly vomit at how breathtaking the view before you is.

“Yukhei,” you finally breath, barely audible, testing to see if he was up. He doesn’t budge or flinch or sigh—nothing. He stays asleep, his breath softly fanning over your chest from where he lies. The same soothing sunlight warming your skin makes his honey skin gold, and his eyelashes cast soft shadows across his cheekbones while his lips are just so pouty you aren't even thinking when your hand leaves his side to trace his Cupid’s bow.

If your phone was in reach you’d take a picture right then and there and selfishly keep it to yourself, something no one else could have because it’s your memory to keep. But you can’t seem to move. Instead, you stay still, memorizing every plane and curve of his face because you know nothing will ever be as ethereal as what you see right now.

One, five, ten minutes later, you have no idea nor do you care, you realize you should leave. This wasn't right, as much as you hated to admit it. Your heart was completely on the line here and you weren't prepared to be utterly heartbroken in the long run.

You start to shift, slowly, barely an inch at a time, further from the comforting warmth radiating off his body. You’re closer to the window now, and once you detach his remaining hand, you can easily lean up and make your escape.

You shakily reach for his long fingers spread across the small of your back and gently slide it off and lay it on his pillow.

Yukhei groans into his soft pillow and you freeze, hoping he’ll just turn away but no—both hands come back this time, reaching for your body. And once they find your waist you’re being pulled back even closer now.

He sighs against your collarbone and you start to melt. “Don't go. You’re so warm,” he breathes, turning his face so that his cheek lies flat on the center of your chest. “I think I should.”

“No, shut up,” he mumbles back, completely locking his muscular arms around your back.

You huff in defeat and rest your hands around his shoulders. He seems to already be back asleep, so you absentmindedly run your fingers through his hair you've been dying to touch and practically cry when he hums in response. So you continue to, gently scratching his scalp and untangling the ends until he's softly snoring against your collarbone once more.

Your heart genuinely aches—you can feel it in your chest, months and weeks and days and hours of adoration for the boy clinging to you swelling from inside and out and you cannot comprehend that you're even here with him. What did this mean? Friends who have only met twice and randomly texted throughout a single week did not share a bed, let alone spend the morning like this.

You sigh, mainly out of guilt but also sadness—you wanted to wake up like this every morning, stay up every day the way you had, fall asleep with him beside you every night. But would it happen? It was incredibly unlikely and you wanted to sob.

You huff again, pushing your thoughts into another corner of your brain and deciding to just relish in the moment now. You wiggle further down until finally, you’re face to face with perfection himself, his nose just barely brushing your own.

You close your eyes again, hoping maybe you’d fall back asleep and when you wake up again he wouldn’t be there anymore.

“I knew you wouldn’t leave.”

Your eyes are open in a flash, widening at his words and at the fact his own were staring at you intently. “Only because you asked. And you’re very comfy,” you admit, hoping he wouldn’t see right through you. “So I’ve been told.”

“Oh, yeah? By who?” You can't help but ask, not only were you curious but you genuinely wanted to hear his raspy morning voice again. “Oh, you know...” He trails off, and you’re not aware of his hands on your waist until they start tapping against your skin.

“Jungwoo?”

“Yeah, Jungwoo,” he breathes, nuzzling his face back into the crook of your neck and you can’t help but notice that he inhales deeply. “You alright?” You ask gingerly, placing your free hand back on his head and playing with an oddly darker strand of hair.

“Mhm,” he hums against your skin, “comfy. And you smell good.”

Your heart jumps over hurdles at his words and you’re so entirely grateful that he can't see the way your cheeks burn. You stare at the wall for the next few minutes in silence, your mind blank until he starts to breathe heavily and you can only assume he’s fallen asleep once more.

You must have fallen back asleep as well because when you open your eyes again the tall boy isn’t next to you, but sitting on the edge of the bed and prodding you awake. And by prodding, you mean attacking your sides and tickling you until your mind registers the dull pain.

“Stop, stop, stop!” You cry, leaning up and tearing his hands away. “I’m up, I’m up. Jesus,” you hiss, leaning against the wall and smoothing your hair.

He’s grinning so big you fear his face might break. “Sorry, you wouldn’t wake up so I had to do it the hard way,” he laughs.

“Did you try saying my name?”

“Yeah.”

“Poking me?”

“Yep.”

“Oh,” you sigh, “sorry. I guess I was really knocked.” He laughs. “Don’t worry about it. I would’ve let you just stay there all day but your phone was blowing up,” he explains, standing up and stretching. He’s already dressed, so when you check the time you aren't surprised to see that it’s noon.

Mina has texted you nineteen times. Some are from last night simply asking where you were, then calling you out for leaving her alone with Jeno, followed by texts from this morning calling you ‘such a thot and you know why’ and ending with something along the lines of ‘Taeyong isn’t my bias anymore;)’ and you’re laughing.

“What?” Lucas asks and you just show him, watching his expression grow until he’s laughing too. “I feel bad, I stole you from her,” he chuckles, running a hand through his hair. How were you supposed to reply to that? “That’s okay, she’s left me all by myself at parties plenty of times, this isn’t a big deal.” You notice the way his face falls but brush it off when he smiles softly and sits down beside you. “Good. How’s the foot feel?”

“Uh, better, I think. I haven’t walked it yet so I’m not sure.”

Goosebumps rise along your limbs the second he reaches for the white blanket and his knuckles brush your skin and you just pray he doesn’t notice. You watch silently as he unwraps the bandage and presses the skin around your ankle. “Well, it’s not nearly as swollen so that should be a good sign, right?”

“I suppose so,” you laugh, twisting your ankle in his gentle hold. Luckily there’s no major pain so you shimmy off the bed (as much as you don’t want to) and stand up, testing your weight as he watches on. “I think it’ll be okay.”

“Phew, thank Jesus,” he smiles, getting up as well and swinging the door open. “There’s still some leftovers from breakfast if you want some,” Lucas says as you walk down the corridor to the kitchen. Jisung and Haechan pass you on the way and when they wiggle their eyebrows, all you do is smile and look down at your feet.

“Breakfast sounds amazing.”

When you enter the kitchen only Mina and Jeno are in there, sitting on high top chairs at the counter. Mina sees you first and her eyes light up. “___! Look who decided to wake up!”

“Sorry,” you laugh, “I was super tired I suppose.”

“Mhm, I wonder why,” Jeno smirks and your mouth falls open. “NO!” You and Lucas shout at the same time and Mina and Jeno break into a fit of giggles. “We played Fortnite all night. And watched Zootopia,” you grumble, smiling appreciatively when Lucas passes you a plate.

“Is Fortnite a new code for f—”

Lucas glares at Jeno angrily and he quickly shuts up, turning to Mina with a grin. “When did that happen?” You scoff, pointing between them. If they were going to play like that, so would you.

“Well, when you two disappeared she was all alone so we hung out and even practiced Go,” Jeno retorts back. You roll your eyes in defeat and hold your plate out as Lucas spoons what’s left of scrambled eggs and toast on your plate. “Thank you,” you beam at him.

You eat in relative silence except for the occasional snicker when Lucas leans over to show you a meme on his phone. After helping to clean up, you and Mina finally deem that it’s time to leave and say goodbye to whoever is out and about in the dorms.

You find yourself wrapped in Lucas’ muscular arms once again and you can't help but feel at home in his warm embrace. Discreetly as possible, you scrunch his sweatshirt in your palms and breath in his alluring scent, praying, hoping that this won't be the last time you’ll ever be so close. “Text me, okay?” He mumbles in your hair.

“Yeah, sounds good,” you smile, finally pulling away from his hold.

And so you do. You’re lying in bed, fresh out of the shower on Tuesday night with all homework complete and Mina on FaceTime.

“Jesus Christ ___, just send it. You slept in the same bed for crying out loud,” she hisses and your face flushes at the recent memory. “Okay, okay. I’m sending it.”

9:53 PM - To Lucas: hey yukhei!!

“Oh gosh, I sent it,” you gasp, tossing your phone onto the floor and smacking your face. Mina looks at you with a raised eyebrow from the screen of your laptop. “I have to tell you something.”

Now, this makes you look up, completely forgetting about the text. “I hate that sentence,” you say, but luckily she doesn't seem too fazed. “No, it’s not bad. Well, kind of. I don’t know,” she sighs, worrying you, “remember when I texted you saying Taeyong isn’t my bias anymore?”

“I’m guessing you weren't just joking around?” You ask slowly.

“I wish. Well, when me and Jeno were hanging out all night I hadn't really realized until he was talking all philosophical to me just how cute he was. And once I did, I noticed how hardcore he was flirting,” she rambles, never looking directly at the camera, “so while you were sleeping in the same bed as Lucas I was, you know, flirting back, and we uh—we kissed. And then he apologized for rushing and I said that I was sorry too and, well, now we’re going on a date tomorrow!”

Your mouth falls open. Mina and Jeno? “I—wow. I don't know what to say,” you laugh, “that’s amazing!”

“You think so?” She’s beaming like a little girl on Christmas morning now. “Yes! While Taeyong is a god, he’s way too old for you while Jeno is our age. Plus, he’s a sweetie so I support.”

“Oh, gosh. He’s such an angel. He’s so adorable and so funny but if he thinks a joke is rude he always apologizes and God, he’s so sweet,” she goes on and you can't help but smile for her. Your phone dings from the floor and Mina stops to smirk at you. “That might be him!”

You squeal, leaning off your bed and picking up your phone.

9:57 PM - To You: Hello ___ !!!

“Oh my God, he replied,” you squeak excitedly, bouncing excitedly. “Yes!” Mina shouts and you can’t help but laugh. “Ask him how he is.”

9:58 PM - To Lucas: how are youuuu

“So yeah, I guess we’re going to have to double date now,” she giggles and if she was next to you, you would have smacked her. “I don’t want to mess this up, you know? It’s still so unreal to me,” you sigh.

“I mean, you’re already pretty good friends with him and you had a major snuggle session, plus I think you’re both whipped and should just marry now,” Mina says and you laugh at her honesty. “Ah, yes. Marriage is always the answer.

10:01 PM - To You: Im doing better now, how are u?:))

You can’t help but squeal again. “Anyway, I’m going to go. I still have to do these god-forsaken note cards,” she sighs, waving her blank cards dramatically, “have fun talking to your boyfriend. Text me if anything juicy happens.”

“Okay, I will. Goodnight sweaty, love you.”

“Love you too shithead,” she giggles before hanging up and you close your laptop to finally head to bed. Or, lie in bed while on your phone.

10:03 PM - To Lucas: im swell. school SUX tho

10:03 PM - To You: Aww I’m sorry, is something wrong?

10:04 PM - To Lucas: no, i just want to be out of there and live my life u kno?

10:04 PM- To You: Yeah, I understand:(

10:04 PM - To You: I have a question

10:05 PM - To Lucas: sure

10:05 PM - To You: Is my bed comfier than urs

The butterflies in your stomach are becoming painful now, stirring such emotions within you that you feel as if you might just explode. You’re grinning like an idiot, too, typing back quickly just so the conversation doesn’t die.

10:06 PM - To Lucas: it depends. theres a few factors that could change my answer

10:06 PM - To You: Such as?

10:06 PM - To Lucas: whether you would be there or not

You have to bite your lip to hold back another squeal of excitement. Where did this confidence come from and how did you just say that? You can’t believe you actually texted it and hope it’s as smooth as it sounded in your head. You could only pray he would flirt back.

10:07 PM - To You: Idk how to reply back smoothly but I hope u know Im smiling like a dork rn and Kun is making fun of me

10:07 PM - To You: How do you do that???

10:08 PM - To Lucas: <33

10:08 PM - To Lucas: do what?

10:09 PM - To You: Everything you say or do makes me smile. And idk why like even when u told me to shut up I couldn't stop grinning. Or when you pretend to be disinterested and lie so I can't see how u actually feel. It makes me smile and I feel weird when Im around u

You can't breathe at his text. Your head is spinning and you have to read it three times to actually comprehend that Wong Yukhei sent that to you.

10:10 PM - To Lucas: i could say the same ab you. you make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside

10:10 PM - To Lucas: gosh, was that too much? sorry

10:11 PM - To Lucas: sorry for always being a mess around u. u still make me nervous

10:11 PM - To You: Yeah. Me too

10:11 PM - To Lucas: really?? u hide it really well

10:12 PM - To You: Yeah man. U make me really anxious. In a good way. I know you won't but I always get scared you'll think im a weirdo

10:12 PM - To Lucas: i could never

10:13 PM - To You: I don't know how to end this conversation now Im too happy but Im super tired and I have practice tmrw

10:13 PM - To Lucas: hm. well. how bout one of us says goodnight and then the other says it back ?

10:14 PM - To You: Clever

10:14 PM - To You: Goodnight ___💗💗

10:14 PM - To Lucas: gnight lucas❤️

You don't fall asleep for another half an hour, your mind buzzing with excitement and affection for the boy who still is your lock screen.

Saturday evening Ten calls you. “___!” He shouts, nearly deafening you.

“Hello!” You shout back.

“I know it’s last minute but I have an invitation for you and Mina,” he’s still talking excessively loud but you find yourself not minding but just grinning at his clear excitement. “Ooh, an invitation for what?”

“If I’m being honest, an invitation for a terrible hangover and quite possibly things you’ll regret. But no, seriously, a friend of Johnny’s friend is having a big ol’ party in his disgustingly large frat house for the end of the semester and it’s open invite. So,” Ten explains, “some of us are going and thought, ‘Hey! Let’s invite our bestest pals Mina and ___!’”

A frat house? A party in a frat house? This would be a precursor to every party ahead of you if you do in fact go to college.

“We’ll be there.”

You should have mentally prepared yourself for this kind of party. You aren’t a very big high school party-goer to begin with, so when you entered the large house with Mina at your side you couldn't get over the sheer magnitude of it all.

Everything was extra—from the extravagant chandeliers and metal railing along the marble stairs to the large rooms seemingly bigger than your own home, to the swarm of sweaty students bouncing to the incredibly loud music, and even to the amount of liquor on counters and tables and the intense smell of hormones.

It was quite suffocating at first and you found yourself clinging to Mina, the extrovert between the two of you, and followed her around like a puppy. Eventually, you warm up after two drinks she passes to you, starting to feel more relaxed in Mina’s navy bodycon dress she forced upon you.

“I think I see Jaehyun!” She shouts in your ear even though you can hear completely fine. You watch against the counter as she jumps up and down like an idiot, waving her arm to catch his attention.

You’re even more surprised when it works. You can tell the gears are short-circuiting in his brain until recognition finally lights up his features and he smiles brightly. He turns for a moment, but then looks back and waves you over.

“Oh, sweet Jesus,” you sigh, downing your fourth shot in a weak attempt to wash all your insecurities away. You slowly follow behind Mina, hopping along to take your heels off so you don't end up embarrassing yourself.

“I didn’t know you guys were here yet!” Is the first thing you hear and it’s Yuta, standing up and grinning beautifully before enveloping you in a hug.

“Surprise?” You draw out once he pulls away.

“C’mon, everyone’s downstairs,” he continues, intertwining his fingers with yours and leading you through the crowd. “Who’s everyone?” You ask on your descent down the steps. “Ugh, well. Me, of course. Taeil, Johnny, Tae, uh...” he trails off, “everyone but Dream members.”

You want to ask if Lucas was there, of course, but you also don’t want to seem clingy and instead kept your mouth shut. After all, you had been texting quite a lot and he never mentioned if he was going tonight. Poor Mina, you think, Jeno won’t be here and their date went well.

“God, he’s already staring and we just got down here,” Yuta mutters, and it takes you way too long to process what he means. “Who?”

“Yukhei. He hasn't stopped talking about you since last week, and now you’re here when he’s been drinking? You’re in for a ride,” Yuta explains as you near the group, but you already feel the anxiety blooming inside your gut. “What does that mean? What do I do?” You hiss, walking slower now.

“I dunno. That’s something you gotta figure out,” he says with a shrug, tapping your forehead with his free hand. You swallow the lump in your throat and just nod, your head suddenly throbbing and you’re not sure if it’s from the soju or what Yuta just told you. Or the fact that Yukhei looks like a whole meal and he’s staring at you just the same way.

Your stomach flips as he scans you head to toe and back again, from your bare legs, up to where the navy lace stops at the expanse of your thighs, to the way the dark material hugs deliciously at your waist and dips sinfully to reveal cleavage that could give a nun a heart attack.

And you can't take your eyes off him. Why did he always have to look so... so good? He could wear a trash bag and still look like a model.

He’s in regular denim skinny jeans that, although he’s sitting, show off his thick thighs and leave absolutely nothing to the imagination. The white, long sleeve tee he’s wearing has a low collar and you can see his collarbones and the way his Adam’s apple bobs. His fluffy hair is messily parted down the middle to show off his forehead and his eyes are so dark you feel as if you suddenly can't breathe oxygen and can only survive off him.

You don’t know how long you’re staring at him until Mina accidentally bumps into you on her way to sit down on the carpet, shaking you from your thoughts. “You good?” You ask each other at the same time. She laughs obnoxiously, the alcohol in her system already in effect.

“I’m good, but are you good?” She asks knowingly, twitching her head in the direction you were just entranced by. “Yeah, just peachy.”

You don't know if you really are good, but what you do know is that that was the hottest checking out experience you had ever shared and can't shake the feeling of excitement setting fire to your nerves.

“C’mon, sit. I’ll get you a drink?” Yuta speaks up again, finally letting go of your hand and moving it to your back to walk you over to an open spot on the couch. “Um, yeah. Sure,” you smile, trying to brush away the feeling that Lucas is still staring, “thank you.”

He only beams back in return before he’s off, and you’re left sitting between Taeil and Kun. “How’s the party so far?” Taeil shouts from beside you and you’re fairly surprised that he initiates small talk, considering you haven’t spoken with him much. “I don’t know, to be honest,” you answer, realizing your throat is going to be dead by the end of the night with how you have to shout, “I’ve only been here like, fifteen minutes. And I’ve never been to a place so big!”

“Really?” He asks, clearly surprised.

“Yeah, not really a party person. High school parties are always in smelly basements and all there is is cringey rounds of truth or dare, spin the bottle, or seven minutes of heaven.”

“Still happens in grown-up parties, sorry to tell you,” he laughs, pausing to take a sip of whatever’s in his cup, “it’s okay though, it’s always fun no matter what we do.”

“I can tell. Except I feel like I’m going to go deaf,” you exaggerate, spinning to look at the monstrous speaker on the wall. “At least they play good music,” Taeil replies and you shrug, “I guess. It’s probably better when your dancing, though,” you say, turning back to him.

Yuta returns moments after that, holding out a cup and you take it and smile appreciatively. When you take a sip, you practically choke on how strong it is but swallow it anyway with a grimace. Once the burn goes away you take another sip and deem it’s not as bad as you initially thought.

“Jesus, slow down before you give him a heart attack,” Kun hisses in your ear, and you glance at him with widened eyes. “Who? And what about me? What if I have a heart attack?” You joke.

“I swear you’re clueless, but I’m hoping that it’s just alcohol shutting down your brain,” he sighs in defeat, “Lucas, of course. He looks away for one second and then when he turns back you’re doing something that surprises him.”

You roll your eyes. “What, am I not allowed to drink?”

“Well, you are underage. But no, seriously. I can tell he thinks it’s hot. Plus, I can practically smell his jealousness from here,” Kun replies, side glancing for barely a second before looking back at you. “You should have seen him when you walked down holding Yuta’s hand.”

You swallow, suddenly feeling guilty.

“Don’t worry about it, he’s not one to stay pissed. He’s obsessed with you already,” Kun smiles, but hides it by taking a sip from his cup, “but hey, next time you sleepover, warn me? Please? I walked into our bedroom the other night and nearly shit myself when I saw you wrapped around him.”

“Sorry, I probably would’ve shit myself too,” you giggle and when something moves out of the corner of your eye, you frown to see Lucas walking away. “He’s getting away,” Kun sings and you look back to him in a panic. “If I follow him I don’t know what could happen,” you sigh honestly.

Of course, you want to go after him just to talk to him privately, but Lord knows what could happen when you have liquor in your system.

“Bullshit! Don’t let that stop you,” Kun smiles, slipping his hands to your back and shoving you to your feet. You sigh, finally standing up and chugging the rest of your drink. “Do I look alright?”

“You look stunning, stop worrying. He went upstairs, probably to piss. Go get ‘em, tiger,” he replies, and you smile and lean back down to squeeze him in a hug. “Thank you,” you whisper, and then you’re off.

You don’t know if it’s the sudden buzz in your brain or not, but going up two flights of stairs leaves you way too winded and dizzy then it normally does. You lean against the wall to catch some air while scanning over the crowd from a higher view. C’mon, where are you?

“___?”

You practically jump out of your skin when he says your name and slides his hands around your waist, tugging you around to face him. “Ha. Hi Yukhei. I was just looking for you,” you gulp, suddenly losing brain cells with him being so close again.

“You were?”

“Yeah, I thought we could, um, catch up. Or something,” you chuckle awkwardly, mentally slapping yourself for being so nervous again.

“Actually, I have something to tell you,” he suddenly says, standing taller and you feel so small when he does that. “You do?” You squeak, afraid it would be something terribly disappointing or terribly heartwarming.

“Yeah, c’mon,” he says, reaching for your hand and guiding you to an open door. Luckily it’s not a spare bedroom but just the bathroom and you can’t help but sigh in relief once he’s locked the door and flicked the light switch up.

“So, we recently had a meeting with our managers and stuff,” he starts, and you can’t help the quiet ‘oh’ that slips from your lips. That was not what you thought he would be talking about.

“What?” He stops, a look of worry crossing his face.

“Oh, oh. It’s nothing. I was just, ugh,” you pause, racking your brain to say the right thing, “expecting you to say something else.”

“I’ll get there in a bit, don’t worry,” he smiles softly, bumping into you until you’re pressed against the sink and straining to look directly up at him now, “just listen to this first, yeah?”

You nod quickly, your throat completely dry and brain on fire with his body so flush against your own. “Anyway, we were talking about backup dancers, for the most part. And it occurred to me that we don’t have any female backup dancers. So I asked why and they kind of just... ‘I don’t know’ed it, you know?” He explains, and you genuinely have zero clue where this is going. You nod anyway.

“So Taeyong asked what they thought about hiring some female backup dancers. Like, long-term jobs, not just a one-song-and-done. And they kind of did a little manager huddle and said why not and to let them know of anyone we know so they can do auditions and stuff,” he goes on, and by now you can’t think straight. He hasn’t said it yet, but what if?

“We all thought the same thing, but I said it first and, so, I told them about these two girls I know and how talented they are and how, well, sweet and smart and genuinely amazing they are. And pretty, but that’s beside the point. So I showed them some videos and stuff. Anyway, that’s not important,” he pauses to lick his plump lips, looking at you directly now, “and so they said that if you and Mina came in and auditioned it would be a delight to have you on the team. If you want, of course.”

You don’t know what to say, do, or think. You’re hyper-aware of his large hands cupping your face, index fingers rubbing soft circles beneath your ears but also still have the weight of what he just said sinking into your brain. You don’t know whether it’s the alcohol or simply shock but no words come out, your lips staying parted in complete and utter surprise at such a bombshell.

“I don't—I can’t,” you stammer, shaking hands gripping his shirt to steady yourself, “thank you. Fuck. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Holy shit. Oh my God. I don’t know what to say, holy fucking shit.”

You’re breathless, slumped against the granite and nearly pulling the lanky boy down with you. “I have more to say,” he says, quieter this time. You gulp, eyes searching his face. Still, you can’t comprehend anything besides you and Mina may have just fallen into one of the best opportunities of your life.

“Okay,” he sighs softly, his large hands still cradling your face. “My first thought last weekend when I woke up with you beside me was ‘Fuck, what did I just get myself into?’ but when you said something about never getting up and whispered my name in that scared little voice I nearly lost it,” he goes on, eventually looking away from your face and fiddling with the lace material on the neckline of your dress. He suddenly looked incredibly innocent and you wanted nothing more than to hold him once more.

“And then you didn’t leave, even though I know you wanted to. But it suddenly felt so right, you know? Like everything that had happened that night ended with such a perfect morning,” he sighs, glancing up for a second to check how you were taking it all so far. When you offer him a warm smile, heart beating wildly against your chest, he returns it with pink blush adorning his cheeks.

“I thought you felt it too, but then later when I woke you up you had said it wasn’t a big deal, and I was so sad because I thought it was. I mean, how often do you play fifteen rounds of Fortnite, share the same bed, and wake up cuddling with someone you don’t have feelings for? And then I got even more confused when you texted me during the week, and fuck, everything you said had me smiling at my phone and Kun was making fun of me,” Lucas goes on, never stopping to breath until now.

“So, my question is, what are you thinking? Because I know I was your bias, or whatever the heck you guys call it before we met, and you still act nervous around me. And those texts and even this is not something just friends do. And you look so damn kissable right now, and while I want nothing more than to kiss you, I won’t in case that’s not what you want,” he finishes, his voice noticeably lowering as he tentatively leaned closer, his face and nose and lips only mere centimeters away.

You swallow once more, finally letting the reality of his words hit you. You swipe your tongue over your lips once, just in case, and he glances down just in time to catch it.

And that’s it.

He quickly surges forward, and the cord holding you together suddenly snaps when his lips are finally on yours. It’s like a breath of fresh air on the first day of spring, filling you to the brim with new life and you can't get enough. You both are doing nothing but everything at the same time, hands not knowing where to go but stinging skin in their wake. His lips make it impeccably wet and messy, teeth and tongue, but you don’t care, and your hands finally find the collar of his shirt and yank him to come closer, allowing his tongue to finally swirl with yours and you feel as if you’re drowning in him and the way he tastes and feels. It’s like sunlight in the morning, washing over your skin until it’s warmed all the way to your very being.

After what feels like an eternity you pull away, your head swimming with the fact he just kissed you. He leans back, breathless but seemingly more alert now, blunt fingernails digging into your bare thighs. His eyes scan your face again, searching for any trace of regret and when he finds none he comes back for more, kissing you softer this time. It’s so raw that it hurts, adoration and admiration flowing from the depths of your heart and you can’t fight it anymore.

You’re practically limp against him when his warm lips move from your lips to your jaw, down the column of your throat and to your bare chest. “God,” he breathes, moving back up to suck the delicate skin on the side of your neck between his teeth before going back with his tongue to sooth the pleasant pain, “I didn’t know if I’d be able to wait any longer to kiss you.”

Your head lolls to side as he continues his ministrations against your throat, completely lost in his touch. Your grip on his shirt finally slackens and you finally find the confidence to slide your hands under the fabric, leaning into him so you can further trace the expanse of his torso.

“Stop,” he suddenly hisses, pulling away to grab your wrist, “you’re going to give me a terrible boner and I’m not fucking you in this dingy house.”

His words made your stomach squirm even at the possibility and he clearly notices, lips quickly finding yours and hands holding your waist once more. You’re almost too busy trying to slip your tongue within the confines of his mouth to notice his right hand slowly descend until it’s resting between your thighs, pushing them apart and you gasp into his mouth.

You feel his mouth quirk into a sly smirk and can’t help but smile too, that is until his fingers slip past the hem of your dress and brush against the cotton of your underwear.

He breaks away and laughs at you when you whimper at the loss of contact. “Don’t frown,” he mumbles, keeping eye contact even as his fingers drag agonizingly slow along your clothed folds and it’s the most sensual thing you might ever experience.

A loud knock on the door quickly interrupts your faintest of moans and you suddenly feel incredibly exposed. “I swear to God, if you two don’t get out of there soon, we’re leaving without you. We’re going home, they ran out of Malibu and that’s apparently the only thing Jaehyun likes!”

You swallow, looking away from the door and back to the panting boy leaning on you, irises blown out and lips pink and plump.

“Do you want to have another sleepover?” He asks quietly and you can’t fight the smile that tugs at your lips.

"Oh my God,” you wake up with a low groan escaping your lips, a headache throbbing painfully in the refines of your skull as soon as you gain consciousness. Is this what a hangover felt like? You sigh, squeezing your eyes to shut out the sunlight. You turn away from that direction only to not-so-gracefully bump into something.

By the entanglement of limbs and bare skin pressed flush against yours, you can only assume something is actually someone and everything from last night crashes back, your headache increasing tenfold. Your eyes are open in a flash, not because you're scared or regretful, but just to make sure you were correct. And safe, not in some stranger’s bed.

Just like last week, Wong Yukhei is beside you, cheeks flushed pink against his warm honey skin and lips pouty as always. Except, this time, he’s awake, lying on his side and staring at you with wide eyes full of something you could only pinpoint as adoration.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” he replies, and not until now do you notice his hand on your very, very bare hip. “Do you want something for your headache?” He asks, voice low before leaning inches closer and pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. “Yeah, but I can wait—”

You don’t get to finish because he’s already rolling out of bed, taking most of the sheets off of you and you’re left completely naked, forcing you to grasp for the white duvet crumpled at your feet to cover your body.

Except, not that it matters, because he’s incredibly naked too, and you’re amazed at how tall he is when he’s like this, no matter the circumstances. You quickly look away in fear he’d catch you staring, a blush working its way up your cheeks as you suddenly become aware of the pleasantly dull ache throbbing in your abdomen.

He’s back at your side moments later, this time with pineapple print boxers on, holding out a half-full water bottle and two Advil’s. “Thanks,” you sigh, swallowing them quickly.

“This wasn’t just a one and done thing, right?” He asks suddenly, and you look up at him where he’s leaned against his dresser, fingers tapping the edge. You could quite literally cut the tension between the two of you and suddenly want nothing more than going back to sleeping in his arms.

“No! No, I hope not. I mean, unless you want it to, in that case, I’ll go n—”

“No, please don’t go! I just wanted to make sure, in case... in case I completely misread this whole situation,” he sighs in relief, finally moving away from his dresser and rolling back into bed beside you. “Did you mean everything you said last night?” You say quietly once he’s settled and pulled you back against him.

“Of course.”

“Okay,” you let out a sigh of relief, reaching up to play with a strand of his caramel hair. “I’m sorry, too. For when I said this wasn’t a big deal. I didn’t realize that you—you felt something. For me. Which is dumb, because it was kind of obvious. But it’s kind of scary assuming things when it comes to someone who didn't know who you were when you’ve been in love with them for months,” you talk absentmindedly now, not realizing the words are spilling out of your mouth until they’re already out. After all, you were a NCTzen before any of this and there was no way to avoid that when it came to your love for not only him, but the rest of the group.

“I knew who you were,” he laughs above you and you glance up in confusion, quirking an eyebrow. “One of your videos came up on my recommended one day and I was kind of obsessed with you guys since,” he admits and it’s by far the cutest thing you have ever seen.

“No way.”

“I swear on my life,” he grins brightly, wrapping his muscular arms around your back and pulling you up beside him so you were face-to-face. It’s quiet again, and you find yourself once again tracing the outline of his face; his defined eyebrows, big doe eyes, his cheekbones, his chin, his lips—everything.

“What now?”

“Well, we probably should have gone on a few dates first and fallen in love, even though I’m already full of adoration for you already, and then I would’ve asked you to be my girlfriend and then we would’ve had mind-blowing sex. But we kind of went backward and already had the mind-blowing sex, so how about grabbing lunch as our first date? I mean, even though you’re a younger girl.”

You’re grinning like an idiot now and can’t help but kiss him. It’s soft and gentle and sweet and makes everything inside of you warm and fuzzy only because it’s him.

“Okay, I like the sound of that,” you whisper against him, kissing his cheeks, his nose, his forehead and finally his velvety lips again, “only because I’m full of adoration for you too.”

After all, Wong Yukhei was the warmth you so desperately craved for and needed in your life.

[dykedykegooses]

i'm askin u every single even numbered question for the lesbian ask game

at least you didnt bother with the algebra this time, for which i am thankful

Femme or butch?

i’m more femme but i try to act butch sometimes and i just end up failing hopelessly. ‘look mom i know how to put air in a tire!!’ ‘peyton thats like… not even right’ or ‘oh SHIT look at that blitz!! that was cool’ ‘peyton that was a sack’ ‘oh’

Do you have a “type”? If so, describe it

not really, mostly just like… humor. if u funny we click

Plaid button-ups or leather jackets?

why not both?

no but seriously plaid tbh

Describe your style

um yes

converse, (ripped? sometimes) jeans, and whatever top i feel is appropriate for the Big Aesthetic today

Describe your aesthetic

yes

ive tried going more punk but its just kinda , not worked

my physical aesthetic is very adultolescent. i got chub and look like a freshman but ive been told i pass as a college senior so like

my Big Mood aesthetic is yes

Favorite article of clothing?

either my converse or my “”combat boots”” (theyre not and it makes me sound like an edgelord just saying that) (can you tell im gay)

OH WAIT I FORGOT ABOUT MY JEAN JACKET its like baggy and light and ive started sewing patches from my favorite bands on it (super punk right)

Favorite pair of shoes?

^^^

oh my black strappy heels, theyre surprisingly comfortable

Current haircut?

ive got a bleached bob rn

Any haircut goals for the future?

i kinda want a pixie cut bc i cant handle long hair however long hair is so PRETTY and wow

Describe the best date you’ve been on

iiiiiiiiii dont really know. ive been on very few. i have a Perfect Date in mind, and i guess my favorite was my first date with my ex. we had gotten back from a successful science competition (HAVE I MADE IT OBVIOUS IM A NERD YET IM A BIG OL NERD) and it was like midnight by the time we got back and we were both starving so we went to taco bell and just sat there talking and laughing and i know we were pissing off the staff, but we stayed til like two in the morning and we went home and honestly we both considered it a date but we didnt like… tell each other it was a date? if that makes sense? idk honestly im triggered

Describe the worst date you’ve been on

ugh oh god i went on a tinder date and this girl like in the DMs was like ‘hey do u smoke weed’ and im like ‘lol no’ and then like we made plans to meet up at a coffee shop and she asks me AGAIN if i smoke weed and im like……………. no and shes like ‘oh right lol’ well THIS BITCH sleeps through the time we were supposed to meet, completely stands me up, and then texts me back like an hour later and was like ‘omg im sorry i overslept!!!’ and it was like….. noon but ok so we meet up after my class and we just sit there really awkwardly trying to make conversation and she asks me AGAIN if i smoke weed im like ‘honey no i dont’ and we just talked about drugs for a while and when i left because i had to gtfo she like gave me an awkward hug and like i sent a text later that night bc im courteous and im like ‘hey i had a great time today’ (i didnt) ‘lmk if you ever want to meet up again!!’ and she just. ignored me lol.

Single? Taken?

im currently in a polyamorous relationship with myself and my anxiety

If taken, talk about your girlfriend/wife!

:)

If single, what are you looking for in a potential girlfriend/wife?

someone who’s able to make me laugh and deal with my bad ideas and will let me cook for her and wants to travel the world with me

Describe your dream wedding

its small. outside. maybe in a field or in front of a lake. i dont personally want a big ballgown, just a short white dress will do. lavenders everywhere. R A I N B O W  C A K E. reception where we slow dance to all the sappy romance songs. its great.

Do you want kids?

not really, but ive considered being a foster parent. i feel like im here to do good; i don’t want to have my own biological children, and im not sure i want to have the permanent responsibility of adopting a kid, but i feel i could handle fostering once we’re financially stable and have the room to accept children into our home.

If you could live anywhere in the world, where would you live?

spain, definitely. somewhere in the north. i want to have a small farm with goats and chickens and vegetables and i want to be away from this american mess.

Favorite lesbian movie?

well ysee…………. the only two explicitly lesbian movies ive seen have been ‘all about E’ and ‘blue is the warmest color’ and i didnt like either of the lmfaoooo i prefer watching lesbian television shows tbqh (or, most commonly, just rewriting all the female characters in my head to be sapphic sooooooo dont @ me)

Favorite lesbian novel/story?

i mean same as above, i dont read as much as i like to. however, i did read “georgia peaches and other forbidden fruit” and that was Really Good and i did read another that was slightly better, but i forget the name but it was about a pakistani (?) girl who was struggling to come out to her parents bc they were very traditionalist but she joins the theater and her like really elite school and the girl she had a crush on basically outs her and is a bitch about it and GOD i wish i could remember it because it was really good

Favorite lesbian song?

ummmmmmmmmmmm i just recently listened to ‘honey’ by kehlani and that was pretty good and pretty gay, but my personal favorite is ‘girls’ by beatrice eli bc holy shit what a Mood

Favorite lesbian musician?

i love mary lambert and beatrice eli.

What lesbian stereotypes do you fit into, if any?

ummmmm now that im thinking of them i cant think of any. i used to play softball and soccer? i love cats. i immediately start planning out the next five years of our lives together anytime im remotely interested in a girl?

Ever been assumed to be nothing more than a gal pal?

i mean………………. no

If a woman wanted to woo you, what would a surefire way to accomplish that?

well bake cookies w me and lets go for a walk & go out and watch the stars at night in the bed of a truck

Be positive! What do you like most about being a lesbian?

I LOVE LOVING GIRLS!!!!!! I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT BEING A LESBIAN!!!!!! GIRLS ARE FANTASTIC!!!!!!!! WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!!!

Are you more of a cat person or a dog person?

why not both

idk ive never had a cat but i know i lov them

Turn ons?

i.......... dont know

yes

im gay

Turn offs?

long nails youch theyre pretty to look at but i mean at what price

not having anything to talk about

putting yourself down like a lot (i went on a date w this one girl and that was all she did like the entire date like......... im sorry ? :(???)

Do you usually ask other women out or do you wait for them to ask you?

if im being honest i would love for someone to ask me out but since that is Very Unlikely, i tend to be the one to message first and initiate dates and stuff

What is your dream career?

i want to be a psychological researcher in the field of social comparative psychology how sick is that!!!!! just play with dogs all day and record whether or not they boop their noses on a screen

also i wanna be a farmer and a bookstore owner but thats Farther down the line like , when im 50

Talk about your interests or hobbies!

im honestly such a psych nerd i love psychology what the fuck!! its so interesting like ppl are weird man idk brains are weird

im also having a really big green day phase like billie .. he so smol... and also anyone who wants to bash warning or the trilogy can fight me ok those are like My Favorite Albums

im going to a concert in february to see declan mckenna, a Giant Meme

im getting a tattoo w some lyrics of declan’s actually its gonna be sick

What is the most attractive quality a woman can have?

yes

idk for me its being able to have quick, witty, skillful jokes i just love listening to girls talk and tell stories and jokes like wow im gay

also long curly hair? thats always a Solid Look

Do you love easily or does it take time for you to warm up to someone?

i mean. do we really wanna open this can of worms rn

too late, its open

i get those microcrushes where you like see a girl and youre like ‘WOW IM GAY DATE ME’ however once it comes to actually being in a relationship i throw my full weight behind it and worry that im being too suffocating or that im pushing my boundaries etc and ive been told that makes me come off really cold and uncaring so lol choose ur own adventure, you decide

Ever fallen for your best-friend?

unfortunately

Ever fallen for a straight girl?

can you even call yourself a lesbian if you havent

The L-Word: yes or no? (love it or hate it?)

i havent seen it, im such a fake lesbian

Favorite comfort food?

mac n cheese

or pizza

or cheesy potatos

OR CHEESY TOAST

scientific conclusion: im a fatass

Coffee or tea?

coffer

Vegetarian? Vegan? None of the above?

im vegetarian!! have been on and off for like two years now

Do you have any pets?

i have one pup sittin right next to me and shes the prettiest girl in the world

Early-riser or night-owl?

yes

idk i get up at like 9 which is early for me but not as early as like. 5. so

more like night-owl. thanks teenage hormones!

What is your sign?

pisces

Can you drive?

yes

can i drive well?

no

but i do have a sense of direction so thats cool

Who was your first lesbian crush?

tbh.................... my best friend, but i didnt realize it was a crush at the time

the first Gay Crush i had that i knew was a crush was on my close friend at the time, now my ex girlfriend

At what age did you know you were a lesbian?

uhhhhhhhhhh lesbian specifically, like 15-16. queer, i knew in like fall semester freshman year (so like 13??)

At what age did you come out (if you have)?

i mean, i come out to people all the time. first time i came out explicitly as a lesbian was when i was like 15 or 16 (actually i came out to a close straight friend and my ex and they both said ‘congrats’ like it was weird but very nice) and the first time i came out as queer/questioning was to my then-best friend at like 13 and i came out to my mom (involuntarily) at like 17? ish?

Are you crushing on anyone at the moment (celebrity or otherwise)?

yes im crushing on every girl simultaneously at all times

just kidding

(not really)

i dont really have any explicit crushes that i can think of im just really gay

Talk about how your day went

it was fine. got free froyo so that was cool. found out i made an A on my bio practical, so that was cool too. however, i wore a crop top and it was like 55 degrees out and raining so i looked like a total Idiot but yk follow ur slutty gay dreams amiright ladies

Talk about your dreams/aspirations for the future

most of mine are career-centric, but a few are personal.

i wanna go to costa rica in may, i wanna go to yale over the summer, i wanna go to NYC pride in june, i wanna go to spain after i graduate, i wanna go to grad school, i wanna be a psychological researcher, i wanna move to spain or england or hell even france, i wanna have my own farm with the woman i love, i wanna own an LGBT bookstore/library, i wanna just live a quiet life near the sea and not have to worry so much after a while.

Least favorite gay celebrity?

this is a weird one to end on, but iiiiiiim not sure i have one? i can tell you ellen page is probably my favorite, but i cant think of many i dislike so

[bloomsoftly]

the color of lightning, pt. 2

Darcy/Pietro, rated T

read: part 1, part 3

Agent Darcy Lewis is called in after the Battle of Sokovia to help identify the bodies of the deceased. Except, it turns out, one of them isn’t quite dead.

this is a mirror fic to @paranoidwino‘s Life is Unfair (which is amazing and you should read it!). another million thanks to @dresupi, who looked this over for me.

The next day, Darcy came armed with the appropriate tools to combat boredom: she brought books.

Pietro looked better today. His skin wasn't quite so sallow, and his breath didn't rattle in his lungs on every inhale. He still looked ghostly pale against the drab white sheets of the hospital bed, though in all fairness Darcy wondered whether anyone could look healthy in a room like this. Between the bed and the clinical white walls, any and all warmth was sucked out of the room. Darcy would be tempted to liven up the room with a bouquet of flowers, but of course they weren't allowed in the ICU.

Shaking off her maudlin thoughts, Darcy dug the books out of her purse and settled into the same chair as the day before. Without preamble, she said, “Look, dude. If I tried to talk to you about myself non-stop for like eight hours every day, you’d come out of that coma hating my guts. So, I’m gonna do us both a favor and read to you today.”

She picked up the first one and grimaced a little. “Okay, let me preface this by saying I do not speak Sokovian. But, I was thinking about it and I figure it might be more comforting for you to hear something in your own language. So I picked up a book of Sokovian poetry.” Chuckling awkwardly, she joked, “I mean, how hard could it be, right?”

Glancing down at the poem she’d chosen at random, Darcy admitted to herself that perhaps she had overestimated her language skills. She soldiered on anyway, stumbling and stuttering and butchering her way through the poem’s six little verses.

Darcy was bright red with embarrassment by the time she got to the final line, and sputtered, “Čuvajte malu kutiju,” as quickly as she could. The last word seemed to hang in the air, taunting her with its mispronunciation. The poem was done, though, and Darcy breathed a sigh of relief. She almost expected Pietro to do the same, or to make fun of her shoddy attempt. But when she looked up to check his expression, he remained unconscious and as unaware as always.

It was silly to have hoped for anything different; Darcy pushed aside the mild disappointment prickling in her gut. Laughing to herself, she muttered, “Well, I doubt I’ll be considered  fluent anytime soon.” Patting Pietro’s hand lightly--mindful of the IV—she leaned back in her chair. “I’m sorry, dude. I tried. I’m assuming that if you could speak right now you’d be begging me to stop, so.” She tossed the book aside. “How about something I know I can do well?” She took the continued silence as agreement, and reached for the second book she had brought with her.

Opening it to the first page, Darcy cleared her throat and read aloud, “Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.”

When she left Pietro’s hospital room that evening, she could have sworn she saw a finger twitch. Darcy paused in the doorway for a moment, but Pietro laid still.

-:-

Darcy was in the middle of describing Harry’s antics in Diagon Alley when Clint finally called her back. Dropping the book face down on Pietro’s bed in her haste, Darcy jumped to her feet and accepted the call. “Oh, thank Thor! Finally.”

Clint’s scoff resonated through the speaker. “C’mon, kid. I just got back in the country—you know, I’ve been a little busy saving the world. Again.”

Instead of her usual teasing, Darcy cut right to the chase. “I know, Clint, that’s why I’ve been calling you nonstop for days. Are you with Wanda Maximoff?”

He hesitated for a long time. Frustrated with the delay, Darcy started pacing back and forth at the foot of Pietro’s bed. At every pivot, his prone body was brought back within her line of sight—a heavy reminder.

“I’m guessing you know that I am, Darce. But if your message meant what I thought it did, I don’t think—”

“Clint!” Darcy exploded. She was so close to reuniting Pietro with his twin; she refused to give up now. Determined to scream and howl or do whatever it took—hell, she’d fly to wherever they were and drag the girl back by her pretty brown hair, if necessary—Darcy bit out sharply, “Clint. Do you trust me?”

(read more link here)

The silence was heavy. The hot sting of frustration burned Darcy’s eyes, but then he answered, “You know I do, Darcy.”

“Prove it. Put Maximoff on the phone. I swear I won’t lead you wrong.”

Clint didn’t respond. A few seconds passed, then, “Hello?”

It was a woman’s voice, heavy with grief and exhaustion and an Eastern European accent. “Wanda, my name is Darcy. You don’t know me, but Clint does, and he trusts me. I know you’re going to have a hard time believing what I say next, but please remember that.” Darcy hesitated, not sure how to get the next words out.

“W-what are you talking about?” The girl’s voice was small and afraid, and Darcy couldn’t prolong her misery any more.

“Wanda, your brother’s body was sent to a morgue in Washington, D.C. I was sent to oversee—it doesn’t matter. What matters is that someone made a terrible mistake. Your brother was still alive. He is still alive—I’m looking at him right now.”

Rage filled the other woman’s voice. Low and fierce, she snarled, “I don’t know who you think you are, but if you think it’s funny—”

“Oh, for Thor’s sake.” Quick as lightning, Darcy slammed the video call button and pointed her phone’s camera at Pietro. She growled, “Do you believe me now?”

A hiccuping sob echoed through the phone. “Istenem…Pietro. Moj brat, is that you?” When Darcy turned the camera back to herself, Wanda was touching the screen gently, trying to reach her brother through the phone.

“Wanda, he needs you. He’s been in a coma for four days, and—look, how soon can you get here?” She could see the exact moment Wanda understood everything Darcy left unsaid; the young woman’s expression hardened into a mask of stubborn determination.

Wanda looked at someone off-screen—Clint, probably. “Will you—will you help me get there? Pietro needs me, and I will not let him down this time.”

“Of course I will, kid. Here, why don't you go pack and I'll sort out the details with Darcy.”

She nodded but didn't hand over the phone immediately. Turning her eyes back to the screen, Wanda spoke to Darcy one last time. “I will never be able to repay you for this.”

With a clogged throat, Darcy said, “Just get here. Pietro needs his sestra.”

With a wet chuckle, Wanda joked, “Your accent is horrendous.”

Then Clint was back. “It's really him,” was all he said. He looked almost as shaken as Wanda, which was interesting.

“It is.” Darcy paused, not sure if she was overstepping. “Clint, did something happen—?”

Clint shook his head abruptly, cutting her off. The harsh movement revealed a light sheen covering his eyes. Darcy dropped it and changed the subject.

“How soon can you get here?” Darcy asked, “Pietro’s in a coma and they still aren't sure whether—” this time, she cut herself off. Turning slightly, Darcy dropped her voice and added, “And this hospital isn't secure, Clint. I was more concerned with getting him emergency care at the time. I admitted him under a different name, but…”

“But it won't hold up if someone goes digging,” he finished for her. At her nod, he inhaled sharply and said, “Alright. I'll get Wanda ready, figure shit out with Tony, and head your way ASAP. We should be there by tomorrow afternoon. That should give Tony plenty of time to figure out how we're going to take care of the kid during the rest of his recovery.”

Unsure how any of that applied to her, Darcy replied, “Okay, sounds like a plan. I'll send you the hospital information.”

“Good. And Darce—”

She looked up from where her thumb was hovering over the ‘end call’ button. “Yeah?”

“You did good, kid. You did really good.”

For the rest of the day, Darcy sat beside Pietro. Holding his hand, she ordered, “You’ve gotta hang in there, Piet. I told Clint and your sister you were alive—please don’t make a liar out of me.”

-:-

Darcy was in the middle of gulping down her first coffee of the day when ‘Secret Agent Man’ rang out from her purse. She sputtered and dove toward it, catching the phone on its third ring.

“Finally, Phil.”

“Agent Lewis. What's going on?”

She told him everything, finishing with, “Clint and Wanda Maximoff are en route, but Pietro can't stay at that hospital indefinitely, boss man.” Sheepishly, she added, “Also, I've been neglecting my other duties to watch over him.”

Coulson offered reassurances immediately. “No, Darcy, you did the right thing. Mr. Maximoff’s well-being is your number one priority. In fact, I'm pulling you from all other duties until further notice. I'll call Clint and develop a strategy for security until it's safe for Pietro to be moved. Keep up the good work.”

There wasn't much to say after that, but the conversation still put Darcy behind on her self-imposed schedule for the day. Practically inhaling the rest of her coffee, Darcy gathered the rest of her things as quickly as possible. On her way out the door she hesitated, then snagged a brightly-colored throw blanket from the foot of her bed. She left immediately afterward, and refused to think too deeply on why she'd done it.

Pietro’s doctor showed up just as Darcy was smoothing the blanket over the foot of his bed. Smiling kindly, the woman asked, “Can I speak to you for a moment? It's about Mr. Petrovich’s recovery.”

A ball of dread formed in Darcy's stomach. “Of course, doctor.” She stepped closer to the bed and placed her fingertips on Pietro’s covered feet. The touch settled her nerves enough to ask, “Is he—?”

Catching the look on her face, the doctor reassured her, “No, no. The opposite, actually. Mr. Petrovich’s wounds are healing at an astonishing rate. One of the fastest I've ever seen.”

Darcy felt her expression smooth into a blank mask. She palmed her phone, ready to call Clint or Phil for an immediate extraction. The doctor eyed her for a long moment, then sighed. “Yes, that's what I thought. For what it's worth, I don't think anyone has recognized Mr. Maximoff. His sister is en route?”

“Yes, she's coming,” was all Darcy said in reply.

Hours later, Darcy was sitting in her usual chair, reading to Pietro. A streak of red and brown raced across the room, wrapping slender arms around her waist and filling her mouth with hair.

She sputtered a little, only to fall silent at the words Wanda whispered fervently in her ear. “Köszönöm. Oh, thank you. I can never repay you.”

Darcy rubbed the other woman's back in light, soothing motions. She offered, “Do you want to spend some time with him? Clint and I can go let the doctor know you're here. She'll be happy to update you on his progress.”

Wanda nodded, and moved to stand at her brother’s bedside.  As they exited the room, tears streamed freely down Wanda’s face. She had one hand outstretched toward Pietro, as if afraid to make contact and shatter the illusion. She glowed slightly pink under the fluorescent lights.

Clint looked exhausted. The bruises under his eyes shifted in the harsh lighting. Harsh purples and sickly greens mottled his face, aging him. He slouched heavily in the chair outside Pietro’s room and scrubbed a hand over his face roughly. Darcy eyed him critically. “What the hell happened to you over there, Clint?”

The archer huffed, not quite laughing, and gave her a side-eye. “That's classified, Lewis.” Darcy rolled her eyes. At least he still had his sass.

Clint shifted in his seat uncomfortably; Darcy could practically hear his bones creak. He gazed at the blank wall, unseeing. “Seriously, it was a nightmare.” Flinching, Clint came back to himself with a little shudder. He gave Darcy a wry look and said, “And you know I've seen a lot of shit.’

There was nothing to say to that; she did know it. Darcy reached over and gripped his hand lightly, squeezing once. She let the gesture speak for her. I'm here.

Clint squeezed back, then released her fingers. He turned his head away, hiding, but it was too late. Darcy had already seen the glimmer in his eyes. To give him privacy, she shifted to look forward. She stared at Pietro’s door, thinking about the strange turn her life had taken.

“He saved my life.” Clint spoke suddenly, shattering the silence. She locked her muscles in place to keep from flinching. “Those bullets you dug out of him? They were meant for me. Me and a kid. Pietro pushed us out of the way and took them instead.”

He reached for her hand, and she gave it. Clenching so tightly that Darcy could feel blood pooling under her skin, forming bruises, Clint murmured, “He saved my life, and you saved his. I've gotta take care of the both of you now.”

Darcy turned to him at that, mouth open and ready to retort. His gaze met hers, and she paused. Clint’s eyes were glassy and wet, but he stared her down with steely-eyed determination. Deciding to pick her battles, Darcy rolled her eyes and joked, “Yeah, alright. There are worse things than having a super spy watch my back.”

Clint bumped her shoulder with his affectionately. They sat in silence for long minutes before Clint observed, “You’ve been taking really good care of him, you know. I could see it when I walked in.”

Involuntarily, Darcy’s eyes wandered back to Pietro’s door. “Yeah, well, Coulson made him my responsibility. I’m just doing my job.”

That earned her a snort from her companion. “Yeah, okay, I call bullshit. I don’t know very many SHIELD agents—or any agents for that matter—who would read the Harry Potter books out loud to their charges, much less for hours on end. And,” he waggled his eyebrows suggestively, “I’m pretty sure soft, colorful throw blankets are not standard issue at this hospital. Nice try, though, Darce.”

Darcy shrugged. “Alright, you got me. I just—you weren’t down there, Clint. In the morgue. And he was so far away from home,” she gestured toward Pietro’s room,” and Wanda. And I just—he was left to die, Clint. But he was alive. So, yeah, I do everything I can to make sure he recovers.”

The archer looked skeptical but slightly chastened. “You’re right, I’m sorry, Darce. I  didn’t think about what that must have been like for you—”

He cut himself off mid-sentence, and they both looked up as Wanda exited her brother’s hospital room.

She was crying. Darcy was on her feet and moving toward Wanda before she realized that Wanda was also smiling. A big, happy smile that shone through the tear tracks on her cheeks. “The doctor said that he’s going to be fine, and he should wake up in the next several days,” she exhaled, barely loud enough for Clint and Darcy to hear. She reached for Darcy eagerly, sliding easily into a tight hug. “He’s going to be fine,” she whispered again, voice fraught with emotion. Darcy understood, and gripped the woman tighter.

“Is this a women-only kinda hug, or can I get in on it too?” Clint’s teasing voice broke in from behind Darcy’s shoulder. With matching wet chuckles, Darcy and Wanda shuffled apart slightly. Darcy snagged Clint’s arm and brought him in.

-:-

The doctor was wrong.

Wanda stayed at her brother’s bedside that night, and Clint stayed with her. Darcy went home to her apartment, and wondered when the lack of people had started to feel so empty.

When Darcy walked into Pietro’s room the next morning, she belatedly wondered whether her presence was necessary any longer. She didn’t need to read to him anymore, not with Wanda there. And clearly she wasn’t needed for security, not with two bonafide Avengers in the room.

Before she could duck out and call Phil for an updated assignment, however, Wanda spotted her. “Darcy!” she called, waving her over. “I want to show you something I found.” Rummaging around in a bag next to her chair, she laughed, “I found this next to Pietro’s bed. Did you leave it there?” With a soft exclamation of satisfaction, she pulled out a book. An embarrassingly-familiar looking book.

“Oh, no,” Darcy groaned. “Can we not talk about that, please? It’s so humiliating.”

Clint’s head whipped around at that. “You, Miss-I-Don’t-Get-Embarrassed-By-Anything, are refusing to talk about something? You, who called and harassed Coulson with made-up sex stories until he gave you your iPod back?”

She flipped him off and turned to Wanda. “Yeah, that was not one of my finer moments. I was just trying to help him recover, you know? And I thought maybe hearing something in his own language might help,” she explained, waving a hand in the general direction of the book. “Except, you know, I can’t speak Sokovian. Like at all.”

“I can vouch for that,” a raspy voice mumbled from the bed. “Your accent is atrocious.” As one, they all turned to stare at the man blearily looking around the room.

Pietro was awake.

[amoralto]

so paul always says now that hes grateful he and john reconciled before john's death, but ive always sort of wondered if they really did or if paul was saying that more as a coping mechanism. i mean, obviously we'll never know what happened in private, but based on what they were saying about each other in the press in 1980 they didnt seem so reconciled as paul claims. also, whenever paul refers to they getting along, he always uses the same "making bread phone call" ex.. as if its the only one

There are a variety of things I could bring up in the answering of this, but I think part of your question hinges upon your own definition of reconciliation, specific to John and Paul’s relationship, and how their actions square up within it. If it can only be adjudged reconciliation by an unequivocal reestablishment of their songwriting partnership, then they were never reconciled. If it can only be adjudged reconciliation if there was a singularly defined watershed moment of unadorned emotional clarity from whence they never ever said a remotely negative thing about each other in the press again ever, then they were certainly never reconciled. So how and where does one measure it? The least I can argue is that while John and Paul consciously uncoupled, they were never really emotionally estranged or emotionally uninvolved; they never even managed to go without communicating with each other for a third as long as that other ardently involved partnership, Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis, did. And it would be inimical to dismiss the depth and involvement of their relationship and the strength of their emotional ties to each other based on whatever ugly sentiments that were communicated and disproportionately amplified in public, especially when said sentiments are actually a glaring demonstration of how much they were not Over Each Other.

… They were never indifferent about each other, is what I’m saying. Half of what I say is meaningless, but I say it just to reach you.

(Well, John probably did perceive Paul’s no-comment-trucking-right-along manner of dealing with things as blissfully unconcerned indifference to and in comparison to his own markedly ostentatious divorce pangs, but that’s another issue for another time.) 

(More under the cut because this response got interminable.) 

Anyway, I think what you’re really getting at is whether Paul himself knows and/or sincerely believes they were on good terms at the point of John’s death, or wanted and willed himself to believe they were, and I would say that it’s a measure of both. John’s death left him grief-stricken and reeling and calling every exchange he’d had with John, spoken and unspoken, into question, and this was after his emotional security (with John and with himself) had already been significantly unseated by the Beatles’ break-up. (I’ve always found it striking that in Many Years From Now he describes much of his life as “filled with guilt and the knowledge that you’re probably not right”; indeed, one could reasonably read some of his more candid interview responses as basically him convincing himself or rationalising to himself out loud.) Even if their exchanges in John’s last years were entirely sunny and tension-free, I don’t think anything short of Unadorned Emotional Clarity (as previously phrased) between them matured over years of concentrated effort and growth and honest communication of each other’s most vulnerable feelings would have prevented Paul from feeling that doubt. Even if the doubt was ultimately unfounded. I think the doubt, tempered over time and reflection, became regret - not a questioning of the bond between them, but how he and John conveyed its importance to each other: If I never did it / I was only waiting / For a better moment / That didn’t come. From Dan Rather’s 48 Hours interview with Paul: 

PAUL: Late at night, or when you’re feeling good, or… I don’t know, you think, oh, it’d be great to – I hope I tell her ‘I love her’ enough, and all that. And then come the morning and you’ve got to get off to the office, and you say [in a hurry], “Goodbye, love you!” And life’s like that. And there’s never enough time – if you like your parents, for instance – to tell them, god, you know, just what you meant to me.

You always think, well, I’m saving it up. I’ll tell them one day. And what happens with a lot of people, with someone like John for instance, getting back to that subject – he died. I was lucky, the last few wee– uh, months that he was alive, we’d manage to get our relationship back on track and we were talking, and we were having real good conversations, really nice and friendly. But George actually… didn’t, I don’t think, got his relationship right. I think they were arguing right until the end, which I’m sure is a source of great sadness to him. And I’m sure, you know, in the feeling of this song, that George was always planning to tell John he loved him. But time ran out. And so that’s what the song is about, you know. There never could be a better moment than this one. Now. Take this moment to say… I love you. [laughs] It isn’t quite the same.

‘This One’ may apply perfectly well to George’s feelings towards John too, I suppose, but. Well. #projecting onto George (Other quotes from Paul about ‘This One’ here and here.)

(Anyway, I think it’s more than fair to say that both John and Paul were spectacularly incapable of talking about their feelings for each other with each other in an explicit and undeniable way. But we could always sing.)

As for the bread-baking story, it is merely one in an arsenal of Paul’s rinse-and-repeat anecdotes for the ages; it is a vetted and unambiguous little yarn which is positive and, perhaps most importantly, prevents further enquiry. It is quick and quaint, and that is very much to Paul’s liking, considering how many interviews he’s scheduled to do on a daily basis and how much of his life he is necessarily comfortable with broaching in public. That this is the anecdote he has decided on to trot out from interview to interview is in no way evidentiary of an absence of any other phone calls, conversations, and/or interactions in general with John up to his death. 

Paul actually has, in interviews past, spoken of the contents of other calls he and John had, and been honest about their fickleness and the fact that it was just as likely to end badly as it was to end well. But at not just the end of the day, but in the every day, why waste words when you can concentrate on the memories fond rather than the memories unfavourable? Which, as most people would be able to attest, is not at all unusual for anyone who’s lost a loved one, and which for Paul is certainly not an outlook maintained exclusively for his history with John. He’s always accentuated the positive. 

And for all that he can at times be an inarticulate emotional disaster traipsing the canyons of his mind in Freudian slippers, Paul has by and large been practiced and reticent in public, whether by actively evading discussion of the not necessarily unhappier but certainly heavier times in his life, or by self-consciously blunting any imbued emotional weight with the words he chooses. An obvious example is when he recounts one of the first things Yoko told him after John died. He opted for a benign “fond of” throughout 1982, like in his April/May Music Express interview:

I talked to Yoko the day after John was killed and the first thing she said was, ‘John was really fond of you, you know.’ It was almost as if she sensed that I was wondering whether he had… whether the relationship had snapped. I believe it was always there. I believe he really was fond of me, as she said. We were really the best of mates. It was really ace.

Or his May 3rd Newsweek interview:

I’ve talked to Yoko since then, and she’s said to me, ‘You know, he really was quite fond of you.’ I think we were pretty close. But, sometimes, with brothers, you argue. They can be the most intense arguments, too.

In Paul’s October 19th 1984 CBC interview he’s unwound enough to say “love”, which I suspect is what Yoko really told him:

And I know that when he died that was one of the great things Yoko did for me, was that she took me aside and said, “You know, he did love you.” She was gracious enough to do that for me. So that was great.

But then in Paul and Linda’s December 1984 Playboy interview, there’s actually an indicated hesitant pause before he settles for “really liked”: 

PLAYBOY: Once you began to understand Yoko, Paul, did you two talk about John?PAUL: Yes. We did. In fact, after he died, the thing that helped me the most, really, was talking to Yoko about it. She volunteered the information that he had… really liked me.

And as a further example of what Paul chooses to tell and what he chooses to withhold, in a 1989 BBC radio interview he mentions something else Yoko told him after John died - imbued with emotional weight, no less - which I can’t recall him ever mentioning in any other interview:

And I heard, in fact, little bits from Yoko, who was kind of nice enough after he’d died to sort of clue me in on that. Realising, perhaps, that those w– would be the kind of things that would hang me up, forever. “Did he, or didn’t he… hate what I did?” And she said some very nice things. She told me once that he’d sat her down with one of my albums, and they’d be sat down, and he’d be having a bit of a cry about it, and he’d be saying, “Ah… you know, I – I like him, really.”

In any case, it’s Paul’s prerogative to keep himself to himself. I am very certain there are many things, both good and bad, that he keeps close to his chest and that the general public will not be privy to for a long time, if at all. (He is large, he contains multitudes, etc.) 

As for John’s side of things re: negative comments made about Paul to the press in 1980, I touched upon them briefly in a previous ask. To end off, Dave Sholin’s account of the car ride he shared with John and Yoko after the conclusion of his interview with them, a few hours before John was killed: 

‘So John is saying, “Well, our car isn’t here. You’re going to the airport, would you mind giving us a ride?” I said, “Hop on in.” And on the way, I ask him about his relationship with Paul McCartney. He says, “Well, he’s like a brother. I love him. Families – we certainly have our ups and downs and our quarrels. But at the end of the day, when it’s all said and done, I would do anything for him, I think he would do anything for me.” And we said our goodbyes and dropped John and Yoko off at the studio.’ 

And from Dave Sholin’s interview with John: John talking about ‘(Just Like) Starting Over’ and meeting Paul for the first time (and in an instance of sweet and charming misremembering, claiming that he asked Paul right there and then to join him). 

[saintkimora]

ok, here is a full account of what happened yesterday and the new events from today. caleb if you are seeing this please respect my privacy and stop reading now 

ok so it started the other day. caleb texted me at night saying he wanted to talk to me about something serious the next day. i asked what it was about and he said he just wanted to be friends but i didnt read too much into it bc he is impulsive so i figured he would come to his senses the next day

so then yesterday happened. i had just gotten out of sociology at like 10:40am and i saw that he had texted me all these things about breaking up. then when i got to my car he called me on the phone. he then proceeded to break up with me over the phone. his reasoning was that since hes prob moving in a few weeks, he wanted to stop being boyfriends now that way when he does leave itll hurt less than it would, so like easing himself out of the relationship basically. i think its a stupid idea 

so these are the issues i had. the first was that he broke up with me over the phone, not even in person. and like i was crying over the phone and his tone was just like very cold and detached and business like and that really hurt me bc he obv knew i was crying but i didnt feel any sympathy from him whatsoever. like if he was crying i would obv be comforting him and trying to make him feel better not talking like a robot. another thing that hurt was that he gave up on the long distance relationship before we could even try it. it made me feel like i was so worthless and unimportant that he didnt even feel like putting forth the effort to make our relationship work. and the fact that he did this all over a 10 minute phone call on his way to the gym. and then like 20 min after he had the NERVE to post a video on his snap story of him at the gym saying “feeling so good *blushing smile emoji*” like that really hurt my feelings and when i told him that later he was like “oh stop making everything about you it was just how i was feeling after working out” but like? i know he obv wasnt saying that he felt so good about breaking up. but what bothered me was that like after he broke up w me, i was a mess i was literally crying all day and i couldnt do anything but cry i was so upset. and then here he is just going on with his day like its another normal tuesday. like the fact that he was capable of being so happy not even a few hours after breaking my heart made me feel like i was nothing, like it was just an errand like “oh im gonna break up with perry then go to the gym lol” and the fact that he did it over the phone just made me feel so insignificant like i was nothing to him and that really hurt. and like ive tried to be the best boyfriend i can be for him and i try to do everything he asks of me so for him to just break up with me in such a dismissive way makes it feel like he doesnt even care

so i was crying in my car, like really bad like i was BAWLING. so i went to the student counseling center and asked for a crisis meeting and i got set up w this counselor named josh. he was nice and tried to help me calm down and focus on orgo. it was nice to have someone to talk to i guess

so then i went home. he called me again to like try to explain himself but only made me feel worse. he was like “you know when i move im not gonna be able to see you everyday and cuddle with you and fall asleep on your chest anymore” and that just made me sadder and i was crying again on the phone. then later we were texting and he was like denying breaking up with me. like, you said you wanted to just be friends and you explicitly said that you didnt want to be boyfriends anymore so how is that not breaking up??? and he said “i was trying to have a conversation with you but all you did was cry.” with the period to show how serious he was. and it really hurt me when he said that bc it felt like he was mad at me and using me crying against me, like i somehow did something wrong by crying. again if he was the one crying i would not be holding it against him like that so i really wish he didnt say that bc it made me feel bad for being emotional which should not be something to feel bad about. and at the end of the call he didnt say i love you like he always does so that hurt my feelings as well

and like i took away the hearts from his contact name and changed my phone backgrounds since they were pictures of him and that just made me really sad

i skipped psych and anatomy lecture but i couldnt skip my anatomy practical. i cried when i was backing up my car to leave bc i saw the “hi <3″ that he wrote in the dirt on my back windshield a while ago and it just set me off. so i got to school and i was planning on having this be the dropped grade so i wasnt like worried but i got a 90 anyways so that was nice. the prof was like “perry whats wrong you look depressed” and i was like im just a little sad today and he was like why and i was like “bc my significant other broke up w me” (i used s/o bc idk how my prof is about those things so i didnt wanna say bf). he told me this story about how in his senior year of college he had such bad mono it was misdiagnosed as hodgkins disease so he was given 18 months to live and his gf of 4 years left him after finding out. so he told me “perry, girls are like a bus. if you miss one, another one will come along in 15 minutes. if i had daughters i would tell them the same thing about guys” so that was nice that he tried to cheer me up. then when i was leaving from the other room (bc we leave our stuff in the other room during the practical) the TA came to me from the main room and wished me luck on my finals so that was nice of him 

so then i went home. then at 10pm i met w caleb in person in his car. we talked and at first he would not let me get a word in and he just kept defending himself and what also upset me was that he thought the reason i was so upset was that he was moving and he was so defensive like “i wish i could stay here but i have no choice i cant afford to live here its too expensive” and like that is not what upset me!!! i already knew he was moving ive had time to accept it what upset me was how he broke up w me for no reason w almost no warning and did it in such a cold way. and like the way i see it is since hes leaving instead of easing ourselves out of the relationship to stop us from getting hurt when he actually leaves (which wont happen bc itll hurt regardless), i figured we should make the most of our time together and enjoy each other as much as possible since we’ll have plenty of time to get over each other AFTER he moves. so when i told him my point of view he was like “i wish i thought of it like that, im really bad at this” so that was how i resolved the issue. he was hesitant about keeping the bf label but i told im i really wanted to and i didnt see a point in taking away the label now anyways. i also told him i at least wanted to try long distance instead of giving up before it even happens. i dont remember what he said to it though lol i was too emotional. but yeah the beginning of the convo just felt like he was berating me and i started to cry again bc i dont like it when hes rude to me like that

then he told me that im so sensitive i could see a squirrel in the road and cry and i had to explain to him that i am not a sensitive and emotional person! im normally v reserved w my emotions like ive only cried maybe 3 times the past 8 years and that im just emotional when it comes to him bc i care about him so much

another thing that bothered me was that he said every relationship teaches a lesson, and from ours he learned not to rush into things. i dont get that bc yes we did rush but that wasnt really a bad thing? like he wouldve moved regardless so taking things slow wouldnt have changed that. and like since we rushed into things it will hurt more when he leaves since we are closer than we would be if we took it slow but also like, if we didnt rush we wouldnt have gotten so close and had so much fun together in the first place. so imo the benefits of getting so close so fast vastly outweighed the pain of him leaving

so everything would be great except for this next part. he told me the easing out of the relationship thing was bc he got the advice to do that from his mom and leeann. so when i got home i made a post calling leeann toxic and his mom stupid for interfering in our relationship. and like yall can tell that obv i was kidding and just exaggerating for humorous effect like i dont really think his mom is stupid or that leeann was toxic, just that their advice in the situation was bad. but caleb texted me this morning being so rude calling me disgustingly disrespectful for saying that and he said that “next time you think about doing this remember how it felt when i dumped you (so he admitted that he did dump me) - and get those tissues ready” (since ive been using a lot of tissues since i was crying so much). that really really hurt my feelings bc 1. he is once again using me crying against me and 2. it shows a total lack of sympathy for me crying, like it felt like hell yesterday i was so upset and he knows that so for him to threaten to put me through that again just shows he doesnt really care about me or my feelings. 

he also said i need to stop using him and leeann and his mom as “characters in your online stories” like...these arent online stories? this blog is where i vent and talk about my feelings since i dont have anyone to do that with irl and i need to get them out somewhere im not writing these posts to be mean it just feels good to put my thoughts into words instead of bottling them up and even my therapist thinks its a good thing for me to do  

so he said that but i was NOT having it. i typed up a long text in response and even i admit it was kinda mean. like in his he said “dont even talk to me for the rest of the day” so at the end of my text i said “dont talk to me ever i am perfectly fine w never talking to you again the rest of my life so bye have fun in new hampshire or whatever” and he was like “perry stop you dont mean that last part” and then he called me and once again got defensive he said he was just trying to have a convo w me and i was being aggressive for no reason. like, no??? a convo would have been texting me like “perry i know its your personal blog where you post your feelings but this post upset me and this is why” not coming at me with 4 super rude texts out of nowhere. so he was trying to play the victim and paint me as irrational and that im overreacting just like he did yesterday and i didnt like it! he was just dismissing my feelings again. so i went OFF in this phone call like wow i really snapped and it felt good tbh

like i think he was just expecting me to sit there and take it and apologize like i usually do when he gets like this but i am done doing that! so i think he was caught off guard that i stood up for myself. i was like caleb i really dont care i have the most important orgo test of the semester today you already took yesterday from me but today i am not entertaining it if you have an issue call me after my test” and i ended the convo and hung up and then he texted me “good luck on your test” like ok hi king of passive aggressiveness 

so thats it. i felt good at first but later on i felt bad so i texted him apologizing for snapping at him but i said i wont discuss the tumblr issue until we are in person. i asked if he was free tonight and he said no he wants a day or two to be separate and normally i would understand but like...hes moving in a few weeks i really dont want to waste time fighting and being in this weird place

not to be out of order but another thing that got on my nerves was when we made up last night. he said “once i move youll have more free time for things like school, work, maybe going to the gym” like once again here he is commenting on my appearance! like yes i know im scrawny and i wish i wasnt but im sick of him taking jabs at my looks like my body, acne, and eyebrows when i literally have NOTHING but nice things to say about how he looks. it makes me feel bad when he points out my flaws like that and a good boyfriend is not supposed to make me feel like that

now for the most recent development. leeann sent me this LONG fb message bc caleb told her what i posted about her. like why does he have to expose me like that! i didnt read the message i was like “yeah im not reading this but just so you know i was kidding i wasnt serious i was exaggerating lol” and she was like ok lol 

i just dont know why she thinks i care about her input on MY relationship? like youre calebs friend not mine to be frank i dont give a fuck what you think about whats best for my relationship like you dont know me so mind your business

and thats another thing. in the past caleb has gotten pissed at me for sharing our business too much (by telling my friends (who he will literally never meet since they all went away for school) and by posting on here) yet here he goes telling leeann everything! seems hypocritical to me

and heres a second thing. i have always told caleb that my blog is my personal space where i can safely vent and talk about my feelings and that he should respect my privacy by not reading my personal posts. and ive told him that if he does wanna read them then hes doing so at his own risk bc im not going to filter myself bc this is MY space not his so if he really wants to overstep his boundaries and look at my posts then he cant get mad at me for them bc HE is the one choosing to read them even after my warning! so i dont think he should be getting mad at me especially when i was in such an extreme state of mind yesterday since he put me through the worst day of my life for no reason which literally couldve been 100% avoided if he had just waited to talk to me in person instead of breaking up w me over the phone. and like now i feel like this isnt even a space place for me to express myself anymore since theres a chance of him seeing. and i tried blocking him before but he made a new blog and wont tell me the url so i cant block him smh

so yeah thats everything that happened. im kinda stressed rn w this whole leeann drama even though he shouldnt have been reading my posts in the first place. like its just so much drama and i dont like how it feels and idk why this relationship turned sour so fast and i wish he would just be nice and sweet to me again. so hopefully things get better