#one time I got one that said “your creativity will inspire people” and I was like damn thanks

[painauchocolate-enjoyer]

when the fortune cookie actually tells you something you need to hear

[ambiguous-avery]

Chasing Shadows, Part 4

Dean Winchester x OC fem!Touched!Reader/You | WC: 6927

Summary: She’s never been afraid of the dark, not really. She’s more concerned about getting lost in it. He’s haunted by every dark deed he’s ever done. It’s constantly nipping at his heels like a hell hound. He’s her light in the dark, and she’s the one bit of darkness he’s willing to embrace.

Tags/Warnings: No use of Y/N, canon-typical violence, eventual romance, eventual smut, fluff and angst, POV alternating (sometimes a little all over the place), mutual pining, no beta we die like men

Disclaimer: The base concept of Touched comes from @aylacavebear and is used with permission. I’ve taken creative liberties with it.

A/N: I think this is the longest I have ever committed to a single story before in my life, and I am so excited to have others along this journey with me. I feel like in my short time here on Tumblr, I’ve learned so much more about writing and how to string words together in ways that people seem to enjoy. I think it’s safe to say that I have drawn a lot of inspiration from @godmadeaterribleerror for this part. If you haven’t read her work, I highly, highly recommend her. She is an amazing writer.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had shared a bed with someone. So when you woke up with a heavy weight over you and warmth at your back, it was almost jarring. Almost. You stopped yourself from immediately pulling away and instead tried to will yourself to relax. Dean’s arm pinned you against him, your back pressed against his chest. After the initial wave over surprise had ebbed away, it was easier to melt against him, reveling in the closeness of another person. Life had been too hectic as of late, so finding a significant other hadn’t been high on your list of priorities. The right guy had never come along, and if his company wasn’t better than the peace and quiet you had in your own solitude, then there was no reason to keep him around. It didn’t quell the little rat of loneliness that gnawed at the edges of your self-esteem, though. 

This though? The lonely rat was loving this.

Your eyes slid shut again, comfortable in the moment despite the spring digging into your side and the lump in the pillow that sat in just the wrong spot. You must’ve dozed off because when you came to again, Dean’s warmth was gone. Rolling into the spot where he had been, it was mostly cold. You frowned before sitting up and looking over at the other bed. Sam was gone, and the thought that you had been left behind roared to the forefront of your mind. You stumbled out of bed, nearly falling flat on your face when your foot got tangled in one of the blankets, and rushed to the window. Relief washed over you as you spotted the Impala still parked just outside of the room. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding and physically felt the tension in the air lift.

A door squeaked on its hinges behind you, and you turned to find Dean stepping out from the bathroom, still fumbling with the buckle of his belt. You didn’t even try averting your gaze from watching the way his nimble fingers worked the leather through the metal.

“Mornin’, sweetheart.” You heard the grin in his voice before you begrudgingly lifted your eyes to look at his face. “You get a bit cold last night?” he asked. When you tilted your head in question, he continued, “‘Cause you were all over me like I was your personal heater.” You weren’t sure how it was possible, but his smile seemed brighter than usual. And were those dimples? How had you missed those before? You blushed.

“Hey, I’m pretty sure that you were the one wrapped around me like some kind of octopus when I woke up this morning,” came your indignant response, although there was no real heat behind it. He laughed and walked towards the bed, briefly stopping to scoop up your keys from the floor. The light on them was flashing, and he clicked it off.

“Hey, I never said I was complaining. Pretty girl in my bed wants to cuddle? How could I say no?” You smiled. Ever the charmer, huh? You couldn’t say that you hated it, although it would likely get old sooner rather than later. Or maybe not. You couldn’t say for sure.

You gathered up some clothes from your suitcase you had pushed into the corner of the room and slipped into the bathroom to change. When you came out, Dean was seated on the edge of the bed the two of you had shared, your keys set on the bedside table right next to the obsidian pendant you had purchased. He picked it up.

“So, this is the kind of thing you like, huh?” he asked, turning the stone in his hands. A twinge of something you couldn’t name shot through you, and the urge to walk over and snatch it from him had you marching over to him before you caught yourself part way there and stopped. To try and save face, you held out your hand expectantly, waiting for him to hand it over rather than taking it from him.

“I dunno; I just kinda thought it was cool. And at five bucks, I figured it couldn’t hurt to pick it up.” That was the understatement of the year, but how were you supposed to tell him that something as simple as holding the pendant made you feel complete? That there had been a perfect crescent shaped hole in your very existence that you didn’t know you had until you wore the stone? That sounded like a good way to get Dean to turn around and drop you back at your house with no further questions. He dropped the necklace into your hand, and your fingers wrapped around it. The stone, despite having sat on the table the entire night, was warm, as though you had been wearing it the entire time. You moved to pull the necklace over your head but paused. 

When you had done that last night, you had been whisked off to the Void without meaning to, and you weren’t sure you wanted a repeat of that visit. At least, you didn’t think you wanted a repeat. What exactly had happened was still hazy in your mind. You vaguely remembered someone or something there with you which was a first. It had spoken to you, and the words it had said were on the tip of your tongue but they wouldn’t fully form. You knew that when you Walked, your whole body went to the Void, leaving no physical form behind until you re-emerged. Dean hadn’t mentioned anything about you disappearing into the shadows which made you think that your trip to the Void had only been mental. If you had actually gone there. 

Sam and Dean had mentioned a spirit attached to an item, and you could put two and two together. Could there be a spirit attached to the necklace? Part of you wanted to bring it up to Dean. But another, much louder, part of you vehemently argued against the idea. If there was something bad about the necklace, then the brothers would likely take it and destroy it, and the thought of that did not sit well with you. You would just add it to your list of things to research when you got access to their library.

You tugged the necklace on and tucked it beneath your shirt, thankful when there were no impromptu trips to the Void. You and Dean slipped into idle small talk, and you realized that this was the first ‘normal’ conversation you had had with Dean since meeting him two days prior. The last 48 hours had been packed with so many new experiences that it left you reeling when you really thought about it. You had met this man two days ago, and you were already road-tripping with him and his brother. And you thought people in romcoms moved fast... Dean only gave surface answers to your ‘get to know you’ questions, telling you that hunting was a ‘family business’, and he and his brother had been at this for several years. Before you could delve into anything too deep, Sam came back into the room, a brown paper bag in his arms.

“Got some breakfast.”

When you had been promised a library of information about supernatural creatures, your mind had jumped to the mental image of floor-to-ceiling shelves with books packed all along them in a room tucked away in a large Disney-esque mansion. This wasn’t what you had pictured. The library was no less cozy or comfortable looking, though, and even though you didn’t have your Disney princess amount of books, you were certain that there was enough information in the room to keep you busy for a long while. 

Their homebase – the bunker, they called it – was a large, cold-war era industrial-looking complex with winding hallways and all sorts of older looking furnishings. Sam motioned down one of the hallways with doors lining the sides.

“Take your pick,” he said. “Dean’s in 11, and I’m in 21. But all the others are vacant. They’re all identical, but you’re welcome to look through them.” You still peeked into each one of the rooms, not because you doubted what Sam said, but rather because you were curious to explore. Like he had promised, each of them had the same bed, desk, and bedside table in them, with the only variation being where they were in relation to the door. After a short deliberation, you settled on room 16, placing yourself comfortably between their rooms, at least numerically. In practice, the bunker’s layout wasn’t quite as straightforward, and your room physically was closer to Dean’s. But only by a bit. You tossed your suitcase onto the bed, figuring that you would have plenty of time later to unpack before you left and met back up with the brothers.

Dean took it upon himself to give you the grand tour, and you were thankful for it because you were likely going to get very lost in the identical hallways and various doors and rooms. The bunker seemed to have everything. A gun range, a garage full of old cars – was that a 1967 Ford Mustang Fastback? – a kitchen, and the “war room” as Dean called it. Hell, there was even a hidden dungeon with a single chair in it. Dean seemed quite keen on you stepping into the weird symbol drawn onto the ground before moving onto the next room. By the time you made it back to the library, Sam had piled a few books onto one of the tables.

“There’s no rush, but I pulled the books I could think of that had to do with shadow creatures, night creatures, and things that are generally associated with the dark.” He sounded like a kid in a candy store, almost immediately diving into the way the library was sorted when you matched his enthusiasm. Somewhere within these walls had to be the answer you were looking for. It was just going to take some digging. You cracked open the first book. The text was tiny with near illegible handwriting in the margins. You frowned. Correction: this was going to take a lot of digging.

The first week at the bunker took some getting used to. It was clear that the boys weren’t used to having someone of feminine persuasion living in their shared space, at least not Dean. Sam had shared an apartment with a girlfriend of his years ago, although he seemed reluctant to talk about it beyond that. You had walked in on several of Dean’s late night fridge raids when he was clad only in his boxers, and his flushed cheeks and uncharacteristic sheepishness told you that he hadn’t meant for you to see him like that. You learned that Sam had a habit of going on morning runs, and, figuring that you didn’t have anything better to do now that you didn’t have a job, you asked if you could join him. 

That had turned out to be another mistake. 

Sam had long legs which meant that every one of his strides equaled about two of yours. And he had the benefit of having done this for who knows how long before you came to the bunker. After the first day, you had decided that you were going to give yourself a break and take it easy on the research. You would’ve told Sam that you probably weren’t going to join him for any more runs except that he seemed so genuinely happy to have a running buddy. You didn’t have it in you to take that away from him, so you resigned yourself to a new morning routine. Mercifully, Sam slowed down a bit in the following days.

Getting to know the brothers was fun in its own right. They each had their own quirks, of course, but the more time you spent with them, the more you saw the similarities they shared. Sam was the booksmart one, and Dean was more hands on. Between long bouts of research in the library with Sam – occasionally Dean joined in the research too – you spent quite a bit of time with Dean. Sometimes he would teach you things about guns at the range. He would take up a spot right behind you, leaned in close and chest pressed against your back as he would nudge your foot into the right spot for balance. His hands would sit over top of yours, and he would help you aim with the iron sights. Other times, you would sit with Dean in the garage while he worked on the Impala – you learned her name was Baby – and listen to music. It consisted almost entirely of just classic rock. You had heard almost all of the songs he played, but you couldn’t always name them. 

“This one’s easy. It’s Led Zeppelin’s Immigrant Song,” you said as the familiar guitar riff played through the speaker. 

“Thank god you know Led Zeppelin. I think I would’ve had to kick you out if you didn’t,” he said, glancing over at you as he wiped his greasy hands on a rag. 

“Oh please, you wouldn’t do that. I’m way too cute to be kicked out of here.” You stuck your tongue out at him playfully as he shook his head, a light smile playing on his lips. He went back to what he was doing, tossing the rag to the side while he ducked back under Baby’s open hood. He was sweaty and greasy, but you found that it was kind of endearing. He put a lot of effort into making sure Baby was well taken care of. You wondered if he was like that with women he cared about. You could definitely see it in the way he seemed to watch over Sam like a hawk. After a bit, the song changed to another familiar tune you had definitely heard before.

“Okay, what’s this one?” he asked, continuing your guys’ game. You listened closely, knitting your brows together in thought as a piano started playing. You knew it. The song title was rattling around somewhere in the back of your mind, but you couldn’t quite pull it. As the song dipped into the hook, you perked up.

“Ooh, it’s, uh,” you snapped your fingers. It was right there on the tip of your tongue. “It’s the car part cryptid song!” you blurted out. Dean stopped what he was doing, dip stick only half pulled out, and turned to look at you, his expression more confused than you had ever seen him before.

“Car part cryptid?” he repeated slowly, looking at you like you had just grown a second head.

“Yeah! Baba O’Riley!” You grinned triumphantly as the song name rolled off your tongue. Dean’s confusion didn’t waver. Your grin faltered. “Y-you know... Baba like a baba yaga and O’Riley like the auto parts store?” As your explanation sank in, Dean simply sighed and shook his head again, all dimples.

“Why does that make so much sense?” he asked, chuckling to himself as he returned to his work. “Car part cryptid...” you heard him mumble under his breath.

You and Dean had circled each other the entire time you adjusted to living at the bunker, exchanging flirty remarks and quips here and there, but it never seemed to go any further. Neither of you brought up sharing the bed in the motel, and there hadn’t been any offers of a repeat from either party. The initial lust and attraction hadn’t faded, at least not from you. Rather it had been tempered into something more solid. More tangible. Something that could’ve served as a foundation for an actual friendship that was more than just sex. Maybe even a relationship, if that was in the cards. You weren’t going to hold your breath for it. A friendship would be enough. If that’s all he wanted to offer, it was all you would take. 

In the middle of the third week of your stay at the bunker, Sam had called Dean into the War Room, stating that he had found a case several hours north in Nebraska. Just like the ghost in the small town you had stopped at on the way here, you were relegated to stay at the bunker where it was safe. 

“But I’ve been learning so many different things! It’s not like last time,” you had argued.

“We’re teaching you these things so you know how to keep yourself safe. Not so you can join in on the fray. Leave the monsters to us, sweetheart,” Dean had said. You pouted, but he didn’t budge on his decision. As you watched the Impala rumble out of the garage, you decided that your new goal – how many did you have now? – was to become competent enough to join them on a hunt.

Your search for an answer about yourself had hit dead end after dead end. None of the books Sam had set out had anything remotely close to what you potentially were. Anything that had shadow walking abilities didn’t also have the ability to heal and vice versa. It was frustrating, constantly beating your head against a wall with nothing to show for it. You tossed the book you had onto the table and pushed your chair away from it, the legs scraping against the bunker’s wooden flooring. You were getting nowhere. You blew out an exasperated breath, your fingers unconsciously finding the crescent moon pendant you wore. You had made no headway on finding answers, and the strange experience you had had when leaving the pawn shop was little more than a whisper of a memory. You were ready to go crazy if you spent another hour staring at a book. 

It was time for something different.

The boys had been gone for the entire rest of the week and part way into the next, and with each passing day, it had gotten harder and harder to focus on keeping your mind occupied. Their safety was a constant concern, and you spent more than a couple nights laying awake in your bed imagining horrible scenarios involving whatever creature you had read about most recently. They had been courteous enough to send you a text or two each day, updating you that they were still alive and that they’d be back as soon as the hunt was over, but it was incredibly lonely and quiet in the bunker without them. You had even begun missing morning runs with Sam. You had tried keeping the routine a couple of times, but without someone to hold you accountable, there was no motivation to get up early and run. 

Instead, you had spent the better part of the week getting a much better grasp on the limitations of your shadow walking. You had replaced the battery in your light on your keys several times, and the more you Walked, the more confident you became with it. Previously, it had been like jumping into a pool with both feet every time you Stepped into the void. But as you practiced, it became more like a gentle wade into the shadows. You found that you could move through the bunker in the shadows the same way you could in your home, but you were unable to cross the bunker’s threshold in the shadows. With your light flashing just beyond the open door to the bunker, you had tried moving into it but found yourself stopped by some sort of invisible barrier. Concerned that you might have locked yourself out of the safe house, you exited the shadows and were relieved to find that you could still physically enter without issue. Sam had told you that the bunker was warded from just about everything, and no creature or entity could enter through supernatural means. Apparently, that included your Shadow Walking. 

There were all sorts of different weapons in the bunker, and you had tested just about everything with a sharp edge, thinking that if you could find something you couldn’t heal from, then that might help in narrowing down what you were. The search hadn’t proved fruitful though. You tried a few different knives you found, one of the axes in the library, and even went so far as to try a couple of the paring knives in the kitchen. None of them left a lasting mark, and you cursed having put yourself through the pain for nothing. When you read the same sentence for the fourth time and still didn’t comprehend the words, it was your sign that you needed to put the book down and call it a day on the research. Another day with no progress. You were way past just being sick of it. You needed something that was mind-numbing in a different way.

It was a short trek back to your room, and you popped in one of the DVDs Dean had insisted that you needed to watch. Westerns had never been your go-to genre, but Dean liked them. You couldn’t really say you had ever given them a fair chance, so you owed it to yourself to at least give it a try. You dozed off within the first twenty minutes of the movie. Your phone’s ping woke you, and the clock on it read 9:43pm.

Not dead, on our way back. ETA 2 hours

Sam’s text was a relief to see. You were about ready to go stir crazy if you had to spend another day completely alone in the bunker. You had grown so used to having them around that their absence almost felt like you were missing a limb. You took a quick wake-up shower and were already in the garage when the Impala rolled in. Your excitement over seeing them was cut short when they stepped out of the car. Dean’s jacket was half shredded, and he had several cuts across his face, chest, and arms, and it looked like one eye was swollen shut. Sam had a busted lip and walked with a limp. Your eyes dropped down to a blood stained bandage wrapped just below his knee.

“Oh my god, what happened?” Dean tucked himself under Sam’s arm on his good side and helped support him.

“Rough night,” Dean said. You thought he might have been trying for his signature smile that always made your stomach flutter, but it was tainted by a grimace as they progressed further into the bunker. 

“I’ll meet you guys in the infirmary,” you said, darting to the kitchen and grabbing a bowl. As you stepped into the infirmary, your jaw practically hit the floor. Dean had his back to you as he helped Sam up onto the blue medical bed. “You drove all the way back here with that?” There were claw marks that dragged from his shoulder blade across his back and disappeared below the waistband of his jeans. 

“It’s not as bad as it looks. You fix up Sammy, and I’ll have him stitch me back together,” Dean’s tone was nonchalant, but you had picked up over the weeks that Dean didn’t like to let on whenever he was hurting. This was likely no different.

“Oh no you don’t. Neither of you are leaving this room until I’m done with you.” And it was your turn to put your foot down. You had read through a medical textbook on and off during your research time, learning how to properly identify and dress wounds. Initially, you had questioned Sam why you would ever need that knowledge if you could just bleed into whatever wound he or Dean had and solve the issue. Sam had insisted it was good knowledge to have regardless of super healing abilities, and you had to admit that you were starting to understand why.

“Yes, ma’am,” Dean affirmed, surprising you with his compliance.

You held your hand over the glass bowl, blood dripping down your fingers as you squeezed and pushed more blood out of the wound before it closed up. You cleaned Sam’s leg wound with a damp cloth and rubbing alcohol before dipping your thumb in the bowl and swiping your blood over the deep gash that had torn through his calf. He grunted through gritted teeth as you repeated it twice more, each pass encouraging the skin and muscle to knit back together. After the fourth time, the wound had disappeared, leaving fresh, slightly pink skin in its wake. 

“Do you want...?” you motioned to Sam’s busted lip, and he shook his head.

“I’m good. Thank you.” He tested his leg, bending and unbending it a couple of times. When he was confident about it, he got off the medical bed, tentatively placing his weight on his leg. “Still sore,” he reported, “but way better than it was. Thank you, again.” You nodded before turning to Dean who seemed transfixed by watching you mend Sam with ease.

“Alright, you’re up next, you big, bad hunter.”

“Oh, I’m good,” he waved you off with a hand. “You don’t gotta bleed for me, sweetheart.”

“Nu-uh. I said you’re not leaving, and I meant it. Get on the bed or so help me God I will strap you to it.”

“Ooh, kinky.” He quirked his eyebrows up suggestively, and you pinched the bridge of your nose. Sam excused himself from the room with a quiet,

“I’m just gonna let you two be.”

“Just get up there,” you ordered, pointing at the bed. “Sam, can you grab a bag of frozen peas?” you called after him, still hearing his retreating footsteps. He made a vague affirmative noise somewhere down the hall.

Dean relented and seated himself on the bed. You looked him over, mentally cataloging his injuries. 

“I think it would be better if you took off what’s left of your jacket and shirt for this,” you said softly. Blood soaked both garments, and they were likely going out with the trash in the upcoming week. There wasn’t much of a chance to save them. 

“First demanding that I get on the bed, and now you’re telling me to strip? Careful, sweetheart. Keep this up and I might think you’re into me.” Despite his teasing, Dean moved to obey. When he tossed his shirt and jacket onto the bed, your strictly medical gaze slipped. Even bloodied and cut up, Dean looked good. Hunting clearly kept him in shape, and while you had felt his body pressed against yours before, it felt like a completely different ball game seeing him like this. 

If Dean caught you staring, he didn’t say anything. You grabbed a new cloth and dipped it in the warm water you had prepared, setting about cleaning each one of the cuts across his skin. There was a tattoo over his left pec, and you were pretty sure you had seen the symbol in one of the books you read through. Which one exactly eluded you at the moment, though. Sam returned with the bag of peas partway through you cleaning the blood from the wounds on Dean’s back, and Dean pressed the bag against his swollen eye. Sam said a quiet good night, and you paused in your treatment of Dean to give Sam a hug. 

“Maybe let’s skip tomorrow’s morning run?” you said, looking up at him. He smiled, briefly squeezing you back.

“Yeah, I think I can afford to take a day off.”

You methodically worked your way up Dean’s arms, painting blood over each and every individual cut and wiping away the excess with another clean cloth. Your fingers trailed over his cuts for medical purposes and ran over the veins of his forearm for more selfish desires. It was oddly intimate in a way you hadn’t expected. When you had helped him with his wounds from the vampire, you had seen him shirtless then as well. But this time, Sam wasn’t there as a sort of buffer, and there was more for you to mend. You could feel Dean watching you work, and you tried not to squirm under the weight of it. Could he see through you? It felt like he could. Felt like he could see the way your heart skipped a beat when he looked at you or the way your fingers dragged against his skin longer than they needed to. When you moved to his back, you were thankful for the weight of his heavy gaze lifting. When you brushed your thumb along the first deep cut on his back, Dean sucked in a sharp breath. You immediately pulled your hand back, fearing that you might have hurt him, but he urged you to continue with a soft,

“Sorry, I’m good.” You took your time with each laceration, starting with the top one and working your way down with care. Up close, you could see that there were freckles dotted across his back, and you endeavored to memorize all of them. His skin was warm beneath your touch, and your fingers lingered on him for seconds longer, not willing to let the moment be over so quickly. When you reached the lowest wound, the one that dipped beneath his waistband, you hesitated.

“This last one goes a little lower,” you said. Dean looked at you over his shoulder.

“Is this you telling me that I need to lose my pants too?” 

You had managed to tamp down your embarrassment up until this point in the name of stitching Dean up. However, his comment broke through the paper thin wall you had put up, and you jerked your hand away from him.

“Wha- no, you d- that’snotwhatImeant!” Despite your floundering, you heard the distinct sound of metal clinking as Dean made quick work of his belt. To your relief, though, rather than discarding his pants entirely, he slid the back of them down enough to reveal the last bit of the claw mark that ended just above the cleft of his ass. You swallowed and took a steadying breath as you worked on the last wound. As your fingers dragged along the length of it, your blood working its magic and encouraging the skin to repair itself, you couldn’t help but notice two dimples that mirrored each other on his lower back. They were subtle, but as your fingers ghosted over them, you felt the slight dip of them. They were adorable.

And now you were always going to think about Dean Winchester’s lower back dimples when he smiled.

“Okay, I think that’s the worst of it. Did you want me to get the ones on your face?” You stepped around the bed to face him and impressed yourself with your ability to string together a coherent sentence with thoughts of his well toned back dancing in your mind. Dean set the bag of peas on the bed next to him. The swelling of his eye seemed to have gone down some, but it would likely take another day or so before it was fully back to normal. You weren’t sure if your healing abilities extended to swelling like that, and if they did, you didn’t have the faintest idea of how you would apply your blood to it.

“Nah, you’ve done more than enough, sweetheart. Thank you,” he said your name earnestly. There was a warmth in his voice that you hadn’t heard before, and it spread through you, enveloping you like a blanket. You clung to it. 

“Of course, Dean. Anytime.” And you meant it. Wounds were something you could fix, and you were more than willing to help either brother if it was within your skillset. There was a beat of silence between you. “Anyway, it’s late, and I’m sure you’re exhausted. You should get some rest.” You set about discarding the cotton balls and gauze you had used.

“What, Sam gets a good night hug, and I don’t?” You met his gaze, and there was a curious half-smile tugging one side of his lips upwards, though it wasn’t enough for the small divet in his cheek to show. It almost seemed bashful in nature.

You wiped your hand on the cloth you held before moving to stand in front of him, right between his slightly parted legs. You didn’t miss the way both ends of his belt rested against his thighs or his unzipped fly or the dark color of his boxers peeking out from beneath the denim. You’d stay here forever if he asked it of you. Had you missed your chance with him? Did you even have a chance in the first place? Flirty Dean seemed to be a default setting, if the way he interacted with the cashier at the corner store was anything to go off of. He probably had women falling for him left and right, and you were just another casualty. Dean pulled you into his arms and out of your thoughts, and instinctively, you returned the hug, soaking in his heat and closeness. This would be enough for you. You felt him take a breath in like he was going to say something, but he hesitated and instead you felt him press a kiss to the top of your head.

“Good night, Dean. Welcome back.”

“Good night, sweetheart.”

Dean groaned as he rolled his shoulder, trying to loosen the uncomfortable tightness there. He kicked the door to the shower room closed behind him before stripping down and stepping under the hot spray. It felt good to be back. The motel showers couldn’t compare to the bunker’s, and returning to the motel room that didn’t have you there had sparked a strange feeling of disappointment in him that he wasn’t prepared to face. Nevermind that he had foregone staying a final night in the town before driving back to the bunker. He hadn’t admitted to Sam that he had been chomping at the bit to get back to the bunker. To you. And watching you take care of Sam without a second thought did things to him long before your hands had even touched him. When that had happened, he wasn’t expecting just how tender you would be with him. He was used to Sam’s terse “suck it up”s and “you’ve had worse; this is nothing”s. You hadn’t said any of that. You had taken care of him. Hell, you bled for him and Sam. Again. And he hadn’t needed to ask. Not that he ever would have. He didn’t want to ask anything of you because everything he wanted felt like it was more than you would be willing to give.

But he already had asked.

You had momentarily stopped focusing on him to give Sam a hug before he turned in for the night, but when you were done patching him back together, you had been so ready to dismiss him without so much as a pat on the back. The fact that he had to ask for a hug when you had freely given one to Sam? That stung a bit. More than a bit. How sad was that? A girl showed him a little bit of kindness, and he was jealous that he had to ask for a hug. But he hadn’t been ready to give up that modicum of physical touch you had given him. 

And he had almost slipped up a second time in the next breath. Almost asked you to stay with him for the night. Almost asked for too much. Instead, he tucked it all into a neat little gift and left it with you in a kiss. If there were a god out there that gave a shit about him, then maybe they’d whisper to you in your sleep and you would deign to give him another one of your brilliant, unburdened smiles or touch him again with hands that were soft and untainted by the horrors of the world.

Dean swore he could still feel the echoes of your touch on his skin. Did you know? Did it feel the same when your wounds sealed up? Did your skin tingle with a soothing warmth as a cut stitched back together the same way his had? Did you feel the same rush that shot through him whenever you dragged a finger over him, leaving nothing short of a miracle behind with every touch? He doubted it. If he understood it right, you had grown up with your healing ability which meant it was as natural as breathing was for you. What would you do when you had your answer? A hunter’s life wasn’t for you. You deserved a normal, safe life with a partner and kids if that was what you wanted. Surely once you had your answer, you would leave. Once your curiosity was sated, there wouldn’t be any other reason for you to stay. So he would just have to cherish however much time he had left with you.

When Dean stepped out of the shower and pulled on a fresh t-shirt and sweatpants, he spotted a familiar looking stone sitting on the counter. He picked it up, running his thumb run over the smooth suface of the crescent. It was warm in his hand, likely from the heat of the steam from his shower, and as he turned it over in his palm, it thrummed against his skin. His immediate instinct was to throw it against the opposite wall. In his experience, nothing good ever came from an object that did something when it was picked up. Against his better judgement, though, he didn’t. You had had the necklace for weeks, and there hadn’t been any strange occurrences or any change in your demeanor that set off alarm bells in his head. It didn’t rule out the possibility of something playing the long game, but Dean had seen the way you kept it close like a security blanket. He couldn’t justify destroying it on little more than a wild assumption. 

He gathered up his belongings and dropped them off in his room before continuing down the hall to the closed door marked ‘16.’ He knocked, waited for a few moments, then knocked again. You didn’t answer, and he should’ve just left it at that. He should’ve been happy with all the attention and care you had already given him tonight. But he was selfish and weak. So he didn’t do what he should have done. 

Dean quietly pushed the door to your room open, thankful when the hinges were silent and didn’t betray his entrance. He spotted your flashing keys on the bedside table, and he couldn’t stop from smiling as he realized that he hadn’t had a chance to show you what he had picked up while on the hunt. He was certain that you’d smile when you saw it. Sam hadn’t let him live it down when he saw it attached to Baby’s keys. You were laying on your side, facing the door, and Dean couldn’t help but wonder just how you managed to sleep with flashing lights in your face. It was probably another thing you had just done for as long as you remembered. At least after you had gotten lost the first time. 

He couldn’t help himself. Dean stared at your sleeping form, mesmerized by the way the shadows created by your light danced across your face. It was as though they had a mind of their own and seemed to fall in just the right way to accentuate your features. Your expression was so peaceful as you slept. Not an ounce of a hunter’s instinct keeping you with a foot in the waking world in case something happened. He wanted to keep it that way. If he had it his way, you would never lose sleep worrying about being attacked in the middle of the night. He had made a promise to keep you safe, and he intended to keep it.

Dean pulled your necklace from the pocket of his pants and froze on the spot when he saw it. The pendant gave off a soft glow. It wasn’t bright or vibrant, though. It was more akin to a black light. The glow was dark, almost purple in appearance. Had it been doing that when he found it in the showers? A sense of unease crept into the back of his mind as he moved to hold the necklace by the braided leather cord rather than the pendant itself just in case. As it dangled from his fingers, he eyed it carefully, half expecting something more to happen. He sprinted back to his room, grabbing for the gun beneath his pillow, and when he looked back at the crescent moon, the glowing had stopped. Just to be doubly sure, he turned off the light in his room. 

Still no glow.

He took slow, deep breaths as he eyed the necklace, waiting for something – anything – to happen. Nothing did. He walked back towards your room, watching all the while. When he crossed the threshold of your room, the glow was back. And when he dared to stand beside your bed, the glow was at its brightest. He needed Castiel to give him answers because Dean couldn’t in good conscience let you keep wearing it without knowing what it was doing. He muttered a quiet apology before leaving and closing the door behind him, the leather cord of the necklace wrapped around his hand.

---

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Taglist: @wendichester @checkedoutghost @jacxx2

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Part 3 --- Part 5

[comicaurora]

Hey, sorry if you’ve been asked this before, but I have ADHD and I’ve been following your comic for years and just now have started to write my own comic (partially because you really inspired me). But I’m really struggling with staying on the project even when it’s boring and getting myself to work on it in the first place. Do you have any tips on how to keep your brain invested or just to make yourself do the work at all?

I have excellent news, I literally just figured out something really important about this.

So when you're an ADHD kiddo or otherwise have difficulty staying on task in a structured environment where Task is the Priority, the main way people try to MAKE you stay on task is by removing your access to anything that is not The Task. No phone, no TV, no doodling, no going outside, etc. In practice, this just makes us miserable because it takes the boredom that's always simmering around a 2 or 3 and cranks it all the way up to 11. In the same way that you would have difficulty staying on task if you were in physical pain, this crushing existential monotony makes it very difficult to work. The work might get done simply because you have no other options, but it will not be done quickly or well, and it will take a while to recover from how much it hurt.

What I realized earlier this week is I caught myself doing this to myself. I had 42 pages of background colors to do, and I thought to myself "this sounds really tedious, but I suppose I have nothing better I can do." And I realized what I'd just thought, and got very alarmed.

Because back when I was an ADHD kiddo imprisoned by school scheduling and a million little factors that keep children immobile and restrained, I couldn't stop thinking about how big and exciting the world was, and how much I wanted to be anywhere but here. When I was feeling really crushed in I'd pick a random spot on the maps on my wall and just imagine being there instead of my bedroom. This was the impetus behind almost all of my creative energy. I've said it before - anything is a prison if you can't leave, and being in a prison makes it easy to imagine how amazing things could be outside of it. Aurora's initial worldbuilding was forged in the crucible of fifth grade misery. My enthusiasm for art and my creative drive are inextricable from my sense of wonder and yearning for excitement in the real world. Not escapism, but appreciation. Wonders unimaginable are out there, and I gain just as much joy seeking them out as I do conjuring them up in my head and sharing them with all of you.

So now that I'm a grown-up with actual freedom in every way I've been able to get, the idea that I was staying on task by making myself believe the world was small and not worth seeing was extremely alarming. It could keep me on task for an afternoon, but at the cost of slowly extinguishing the thing that made me want to make art in the first place - the hunger to experience and draw inspiration from all the myriad complexities in the world.

So what I've been doing is I've been purposefully and intentionally taking excursions whenever I catch myself thinking "I could take a break but it wouldn't be worth it, it's the same outdoors as always, I'll be uncomfy and unproductive and tired." Because that is never true. Every time I've put down the stylus and gone out, I've been renewed in one way or another, and when I come back to comfort fully recharged I get a lot of shit done. Because it is easier to work on anything if you remember why you wanted to make it in the first place, and it is self-defeating misery to just lock yourself in with it and tell yourself you're a bad person if you can't get it done.

I honestly don't know how widely applicable this is. I have worse wanderlust than anyone I know, so for me this has always been modeled as imprisonment vs freedom. I've also been extremely lucky to find myself in a profession that lets me set my own pace on literally everything I do. But I genuinely believe that when it comes to making art with ADHD, you need to give yourself freedom to move laterally, not just in the direction of obvious forward progress. We don't think linearly in any other part of our lives - art is no different.

[kyuujo]

↳ thinkin of u <3

↳ sae itoshi, shidou ryusei, nagi seishiro x fem!reader (separate) ↳ nsfw(ish) ↳ established relationships, nudes, descriptions of masturbation (fem), “sending them nudes/spicy vids while they’re in public”, slight sexting?, contains crack (sorry i can’t help myself), no explicit sex but lots of allusions to it, language, aged up characters, not proof read :x, my writing

↳ 1k words

↳ tbh i’ve thought about this trope for a long time and finally got the creativity and inspiration to write it! i’m not entirely sure of the quality of this as i’ve never written anything like this before, but i hope it’s still enjoyable! thank you so much for reading and i hope you enjoy!! <3

“… now that you’ve played alongside japan’s u-20, would you ever reconsider your decision not to join? the people want to know.”

sae sent an icy glare to the reporter across from him; he’d thought he’d made his stance on this vividly clear, but obviously not.

“no.” sae said simply, reveling in the spark of indignation his refusal brought to the man’s eyes.

“well, why not—?”

sae lifted a hand to silence the man when his phone pinged twice — maybe that was rude, but sae had the feeling that whatever had just come through his phone would be a thousand times more entertaining and engaging than the sleaze across from him.

and boy, was sae right.

my wife: seeing you on tv has me all worked up. maybe hurry it along? 😘

my wife: [video attachment]

despite his current surroundings and the many cameras pointed at him, sae opened the attachment — it was a video, one without sound, but the muteness didn’t take away from the sheer tempting nature of it.

you looked so good, back resting against the armrest of the couch and legs spread lazily and slit glistening in the flash of the camera. your fingers teased at your clit lightly, and desire shot through sae’s body as he itched to replace them with his own.

sae didn’t even get halfway through the video before his phone pinged with another message — and then another.

my wife: SAE YOU ARENT SUPPOSED TO LOOK YET

my wife: YOURE ON LIVE TV PUT IT DOWN

sae smirked and gave the reporter a lazy wave before standing.

“my deepest apologies, but i’m cutting this short. i have some other business to attend to.”

sae couldn’t give two shits about the way both the reporter and his pr manager sputtered and desperately attempted to flag him back — his woman was waiting on him at home, and that was far more important.

shidou rarely ever felt bored during matches — but so far, this one had simply been a drag. the opposing team didn’t really offer much of a challenge, and shidou had scored more points off of them than he could justly remember.

by the time half-time rolled around, shidou was seething and sweating, feeling incredibly tense and antsy as he whipped into the locker room.

his teammates knew not to bother him when he was in a dip like this, so they cleared a path for him and avoided eye contact at all costs. if shidou weren’t so frustrated he would have found it amusing.

there was only one thing that may make shidou feel the least bit better — messages from you, something he was guaranteed to find at half-time. a trickle of excitement slithered down his body when he pulled his phone from his locker and plopped down on the nearest bench. his phone read ‘3 unread messages’ when he clicked the screen on.

shidou didn’t think twice about tapping open the chat log between the two of you, a smile instantly gracing his lips at your first message.

babygirl💕: hope your match is going well baby!! i know you’re gonna rock it

babygirl💕: but on the slim to none chance that it may not be, i want to give you some motivation ;)

babygirl💕: [video attachment]

shidou probably should have ensured his sound was off before opening it — but your legs were spread open so deliciously and your fingers were working your cunt at a desperate speed, what was shidou supposed to do? think rationally? tough chance.

lewd moans and whines of “shidouuuuu” filled the locker room and ten pairs of shocked eyes met his. shidou’s cheeks warmed and anger sparked in his chest at the knowledge that now his teammates knew how absolutely angelic you sounded in the throes of pleasure.

all it took was a heavy glare and they were clearing out of the room to give him and your video some privacy.

every single tiny box on the shelf looked exactly the same.

what was he even supposed to get again? he’d read over the front of every box at least three times. pearl, radiant, braided… none of those words rung any bells in his head. what was it you had told him before he left?

“maybe it was the pearl…?” nagi murmured to himself, eyes narrowed as if that would somehow help the answer become more clearer to him. he gingerly grabbed a box and examined it before promptly putting it back on the shelf.

nagi didn’t like to admit defeat, but he’d been perusing this shelf for nearly thirty minutes and still didn’t know shit from shat — he’d have to phone a friend, unfortunately.

nagi slipped his phone from his pocket and was just about to tap open his contacts when his phone pinged with a message; ironically, it was from you.

babycake <3: hurry home love. i’m waiting for you 💕

babycake <3: [image attachment]

nagi’s eyes nearly bugged from his skull when he caught sight of the picture you’d sent him — you, sprawled across the lush queen bed, donning nothing but his freshly washed jersey. if he looked close enough, he could see the faintest tease of your nipples perked up beneath the fabric, and the hem of it fell to your mid thighs, hiding the sweet spot between your legs.

nagi sucked in a breath and clicked off his phone screen, willing his half-hard dick to calm down — at least while he was in the store. with furtive glances down each side of the isle nagi powered his screen on and, while avoiding letting his gaze fall to the tempting picture, typed a quick response.

me: omw. don’t move.

your period wasn’t due for another week, anyway. nagi always had time to figure out the pearl-versus-radiant-versus-braided debacle before then.

i genuinely had so much fun cooking these up! thank you so much for reading! likes, comments and reblogs are not at all required but are much appreciated!! <33

[jonnywaistcoat]

Hey, Horrormaster Sims. I have a wildly different question that barely relates to TMA (Sorry about that) but its about your own process. Please, if you could, can you tell me how your first drafts made you feel? I'm on the fence about writing my own thing (not a podcast, and again, not Magnus related, though I have a million little aus for that delightful tragedy you wrote, thank you for that!) But I'm discouraged by the collective notion that first drafts are always terrible, because there's no ... examples I can solidly use to help the dumb anxiety beast in my brain that tells me everyone who is in any way popular popped out a golden turd and not, well, you know. One of my friends said 'Oh I bet Jonathan Sims's first draft was nothing like what he wanted' and I got the bright idea to just. Send you an ask, since you're trapped on this hellsite like I am. Anyway, thanks for reading this (if you do) and if you'd rather ask it privately, I am cool with that. Alternatively, you're a hella busy man with Protocol (you and Alex are making me rabid, i hope you know) and you can just ignore this! Cheers, man, and good words.

To my mind all writing advice, especially stuff that's dispensed as truisms (like "first drafts are always garbage") are only useful inasmuch as such advice prompts you to pay attention to how you write best: what helps your workflow, what inspires you, what keeps you going through the rough bits. There are as many different ways to write (and write well) as there are people who write and so always consider this sort of thing a jumping off point to try out or keep in mind as you gradually figure out your own ways of writing.

On first drafts specifically, I think the wisdom "all first drafts are bad" is a bit of unhelpful oversimplification of the fact that, deadlines notwithstanding, no piece of writing goes out until you decide its ready, so don't get too hung up on your first draft of a thing, because a lot of writers find it much easier to edit a complete work than to try and redraft as they go. It's also important to not let perfectionism or the fact your initial draft isn't coming out exactly how you want stop you from actually finishing the thing, as it's always better to have something decent and done than to have something perfect and abandoned.

But the idea of a "first draft" is also kind of a fluid one. The "first draft" you submit to someone who's commissioned you will probably be one you've already done a bunch of tweaks and edits to, as opposed to the "first draft" you pump out in a frenzy in an over-caffeinated weekend. For my part, my first drafts tend to end up a bit more polished than most, because I'm in the habit of reading my sentences out loud as I write them (a habit picked up from years of audio writing) so I'll often write and re-write a particular sentence or paragraph a few times to get the rhythm right before moving to the next one. This means my first drafts tend to take longer, but are a bit less messy. I'm also a big-time planner and pretty good at sticking to the structures I lay out so, again, tend to front load a lot of stuff so I get a better but slower first draft.

At the end of the day, though, the important thing is to get in your head about it in a good way (How do I write best? what helps me make writing I enjoy and value? What keeps me motivated?) and not in a bad way (What if it's not good enough? What if everyone hates it? What if it doesn't make sense?) so that you actually get it done.

As for how my first drafts made me feel? Terrible, every one of 'em No idea if that's reflective of their quality, though, tbh - I hate reading my own writing until I've had a chance to forget it's mine (I can only ever see the flaws). I suppose there's theoretically a none-zero chance they were pure fragments of True Art and creative perfection, but Alex's editing notes make that seem unlikely.

[chocosvt]

HER | part one.

✧✎ synopsis: wonwoo, a heartbroken and burnt out writer nearing the end of his math degree, wants nothing to do with the seemingly perfect, intimidating girl who has everyone under her thumb. you. unfortunately, his literary talent has got him shoved him between a rock and a hard place when you want to write a book and require his expertise. you two are the furthest from compatible. wonwoo can’t see this going well. at all.

pairing: wonwoo x fem!reader word count: 23.5k genres/tropes: writer!wonwoo, university!au, plug!vernon + boyfriend!mingyu as prominent side characters, SLOWBURN (i am not fucking around this is my slowest burn yet), relationship drama, soul searching, strong angst/hurt (i’m coming for the jugular), comfort, romance, smut, a smoothie of every emotion on earth.

(!) warnings: drug use (weed, coke, ecstasy), wonwoo has anxiety + anxiety attacks + fairly dark thoughts, prescribed medication, gambling, intense language, infidelity, throwing up.

✧✎ a/n: just some quick things i want to make apparent!

the fic is told from wonwoo’s pov, not the reader’s! 

all major timeline events are organized through chronological dates

potentially triggering scenes within the fic are NOT MARKED in advance

the content is already quite mature, so pls heed the warnings!

bolded and italicized text implies characters are conversing in korean, tho it doesn’t happen often!

the fic in its entirety is 140k, so it has been split into 6 parts

everyone's patience and understanding has been endlessly appreciated! you have no idea ;_; i give you all shining stars 🌟

⇢ part two | part three | part four | part five | part six ⇢ soundtrack for those curious! ⇢ read at ur own pace! :)

—MARCH 19TH.

“I have a relatively big favour to ask of you.”

 No. Wonwoo didn’t want anything to do with favours.

The fact that Seokmin had actively picked out his presence in the coffee shop like he was some shiny contortion of plastic had actually offended Wonwoo. He came here for two things: to not be bothered, which his friend knew, and to work on the book he was halfway through typing and had been halfway through typing for the past six months. Call it writer’s block, or an inspiration drought, or an absolutely depressing lack of drive—it had been hanging over the writer with an annoying persistence and it seemed that no number of lemony scones or cold coffees were going to make it vanish.

“Uh, Wonwoo?”

“Sorry… what?” He forced his gaze to shift from the blank page on his laptop to Seokmin’s apologetic, softly expressional face, slightly flushed from his time outdoors in the chilled March weather.

“I was just wondering if you’d be up for a favour—a pretty big one—and I know this is your special creativity spot, but she’s been like, breathing down my neck about it and I can’t put it off again.”

“Whose been breathing down your neck?”

At first, Seokmin didn’t say a word, or even make a sound. His lips twitched for a moment, but then he pressed them together and his chest visibly sucked in with a breath. God, Wonwoo hated the suspense and he hated Seokmin for interrupting him when he had been so stupidly close to putting a sentence down that he probably would have back-spaced in frustration a minute later.  

“Y’know…” he trailed off, “Her.”

Her.

No, not her, you.

But most people—if not everyone—referred to you by an alias that had seemed to stick so well the majority believed it actually was your name. When people said her they meant Her, and so in a confusing mess of finger-pointing they really meant you. Come to think of it, Wonwoo had no idea where the nickname even came from or who gave it to you or what it even meant.

And he was perfectly fine with never knowing.

“What?” Wonwoo deadpanned. “What on earth could she want to do with me? She doesn’t even know me.” He slid down in his chair, fingers pulling at his circle-lensed glasses so they tilted uncomfortably across his nose bridge. “Or, is this a joke?”

“Oh—no! Absolutely not!” His friend was insistent on proclaiming, vigorously shaking his head. “I’m being serious.”

“Why don’t I believe you then?”

“Okay, well, if you let me explain everything, it’ll all make sense. I said I know someone who writes really well—”

“Meaning me?”

“Yes, meaning you. And the only reason that was even brought up is because she wants to write a book.”

Wonwoo couldn’t help it. He laughed a very short disbelieving laugh that flashed a transient smile to his face as he readjusted his crooked glasses. You were the last person he would ever envision wanting to write a book. He then navigated the trackpad on his laptop, deciding to close the document simply titled, 01, that harboured the fleet of pages to his own current work in progress.

“Yeah,” Wonwoo disregarded, “sounds like bullshit.”

“I’m telling you the truth!” Seokmin exclaimed, gripping onto the metal back of the café chair like he was squeezing someone’s taunt shoulders. “She won’t tell me about what, okay? Just that she’s been thinking the idea for a while now. It’s not like I didn’t try to get details. But she refused—said the only person who can know is whoever’s going to help her. Look, y’have to understand, she was pestering me about it nonstop. And you’re my only writer friend!”

“Well, you’re about to have none.” He answered, reaching for his coffee cup but stopping it just short of his lips. “How serious is she about this, anyway?” Wonwoo sighed. “Do you know how much fucking time you need to dedicate to writing a book?”

He stomached a slow, somewhat grimacing sip as he tasted the coffee’s coldness, meanwhile Seokmin swallowed heavily, and at last pulled out the chair he’d been white-knuckling to take a seat.

“Yes, I’m aware it takes time. I know that. And she is serious or else I wouldn’t be here, bothering you. She takes everything seriously.” The boy began unbuttoning his sleek black jacket. “Really, who knows what’ll happen? Maybe you’ll meet her once and she’ll decide she can’t stand you, and then you’re off the hook for life.”

“Yeah, well have you ever considered what might happen if I can’t stand her? Are my feelings even being considered? Minutely?”

“Minutely, they are being considered.”

“Liar.”

It wasn’t that Wonwoo disliked you.

In actuality, you scared him more than anything. But to be associated with you was to be drawn into your life and caught like a firefly in a glass jelly jar. The proof was right in front of him—to Wonwoo’s eyes, Seokmin was basically your little mailman that scrambled around in hectic nature to do your bidding, because most tasks apparently weren’t worth the time or effort.

“I can’t believe you’re trying to rope me into this. You know I can hardly write my own shit, right?” Wonwoo said bitterly, wishing it was the opposite, “my mind is a desolate, blank canvas of fuck-all and if she thinks I’m writing it then she needs a reality check.”

“No, no—of course you won’t write it!” Seokmin reassured him with his big, opalescent smile. “Really, you’re just giving tips, maybe guiding her process, helping with the planning… you know, this could be facilitated so much easier if you spoke to Her yourself!”

“So, my nightmare?” Wonwoo huffed, shaking his leg.

In an instant, Seokmin had whipped out his phone, tapping around the screen quickly using his thin pointer finger.

“I’m just going to pull up her schedule. It’s always pretty packed, but more into the summer break, it thins out a little. “

Wonwoo exhaled, staring off into the warm, afternoon sunlight that hailed in through the windows, striking all the shimmering flecks and pieces of dust afloat in the café air. When he breathed in again, he could smell the luxurious coffees brewing in their rich and distinctive notes. It was such a beautiful day—still chilly as the snow outdoors began to thaw—but pleasant nonetheless.

“This is such a fucking waste.”

And Wonwoo spent it being miserable.

“No, it’ll be useful. Trust.” Seokmin chirped.

“You’re trying to dip me in your optimism gloss again.”

His friend smiled affectionately, tilting his head.

“This will be good. You’ve been a hermit since I’ve known you.”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo scoffed, “so you think it’s a good idea to shove me with the person I relate to least on the entire planet?”

“Really? The least? So, what you’re saying is, you relate more to serial killers? Or animal abusers? Or like, literal fasc—”

“Stop.”

“You want to do this. I can see it in your eyes. I’ll set you up.”

A part of Wonwoo knew there might be no wriggling out of the situation, especially with Seokmin sitting across from him, characteristically eager and brightly pushy as always, like a goddamn salesman. For now, it could be easier to let himself get cuffed.

“Can I at least have some time to think it over?”

“Uh… well… the thing is… the thing with that is—”

“You’ve cornered me?”

“I wouldn’t word it like that.”

“… Okay.” Wonwoo removed his glasses, shoved his knuckles tender but deep into his eye sockets, massaging through flashes of white as he came to accept a fate he didn’t know even existed in his astrology. “Just, I don’t know—fuck—schedule me in wherever.”

“Ha! It doesn’t exactly work like that.”

“I really don’t give a damn how it works, Seokmin.”

“Right,” his friend laughed nervously, “I promise that I’ll get back to you pronto. Sorry for the disturbance. And, uh, good luck.”

 “With what part?” Wonwoo grumbled, fixing his spectacles back on to clarify Seokmin’s sympathetic face, the light bouncing off his head of brassy hair like a disco ball. “My incapability to write a goddamn thing or the fact I have to help your perfectionist friend who’s probably going to chew me up and spit me out?”

 “Both parts.” Seokmin grinned. “It can only go up from here.”

Wonwoo had one very distinct memory of you: creative writing with Mr. T. It had been an elective class he took amongst all his compulsory maths, and at the time it was a much appreciated break when Wonwoo grew apathetically bored from looking at matrices and confidence intervals and equations that engulfed the length of his notebook. Professor T was late one day in the fall.

And that’s when Wonwoo remembered you walking in.

There was a sort of sharpness about your presence that pulled everyone’s spines straight. People tended to angle themselves away from you, though they did it subtly, feigning an adjustment in their seat or a plunge into their bookbag for something that wasn’t even there. Wonwoo lacked the words to describe you. To be honest, he most likely could if he put that infinitely expanding lexicon of his to work, but even then, he feared that everything would fall flat.

Some scruffy looking guy had made the mistake of sitting in your seat—someone who probably skipped most lectures and only happened to find himself near Gildan Hall purely by chance.

It was the seat squat in the middle of the small auditorium.

He remembered the hand propped on your hip as you sashayed up to him—you always sashayed places. Wonwoo found it funny, like there were paparazzi stuffed behind potted plants and vending machines waiting to spring out with their blinding flares, just to capture you picking up a half-empty bag of flavourless popcorn.

“Oh no. Oh no no no no no no no.”

“Hm?”

“Excuse me? Yes, hello. You—can you get up please?”

“Up...? Why?”

 “Who are you?”

  “I’m sorry… what’s this about?”

 “Are you a first-year or something? Never bothered going to class until now? All the moshing and beer pong and ending up in some random basement of a friend of a friend of a friend is done so you’re deciding to actually get your money’s worth? Well, let me tell you this—I’ve been showing up to class punctually, and this is my seat. I always sit here. It’s my unofficially-assigned-assigned seat, which seems to be a known fact to everyone in this room except for you. Everyone has one. Everyone knows you’re not supposed to sit in other people’s seats. I don't care who you are. You could be my own mother. You could be my best friend, even. President of the universe. That doesn't make it okay, 'cause it’s a respect thing. It's one of those assumed societal rules and you just fucking kicked dirt all over it.”

Whoever he was, he never came back to another lecture.

Since then, Wonwoo had dually made it his mission to never cross paths with you, look at you, or even so much as huff one single carbon-dioxide filled breath in your general direction, just in case that was some degree of unbeknownst personal law he might violate.

Seokmin had royally screwed it up for him.

What could you possibly want to write a book about, anyway?

—MARCH 26TH.

Wonwoo didn’t know how he was expected to find you in this gigantic mall. As he brushed through the streamlines of people, bumping their shoulders and mumbling the driest, most insincere apologies, he couldn’t stop looking at his phone. Seokmin had given him your number with the instruction that he could find you, here, on a busy Saturday afternoon. So far, Wonwoo had sent you four texts, none prompting a response or the grey-dotted bubble, even. Fuck, why did he agree to this? He couldn’t stop thinking it.

Why did he agree to help you, whom he was beginning to not even like, or want to be aquatinted with, write a book, when he’d been struggling to fill the same page of his own story for months?

Squeezing the phone tighter in his fingers, Wonwoo’s broad shoulder then smacked into someone else while he was busy steeping in his misfortune. It earned him a wildly disgusted look.

“Maybe watch where you’re going," the stranger grumbled, some man with an engrained scowl and big, bewildered eyes.

But Wonwoo ignored him.

He didn’t fucking care, and he was sick of wandering through this mall. It made him feel overstimulated, like his clothes were sticking to his skin differently, like the back of his head was swelling, and like all the smells in his nose were somehow making him warmer.

The stranger just stared at Wonwoo as he walked away.

Ding!

A text, but not from you—Seokmin, instead. Apparently, you were in some clothing store on the second floor. Wonwoo stepped onto the escalator, pressing himself into the barrier to make room for the especially speedy people who couldn’t simply stand and wait. He felt a random touch on the back of his head. Scrunching up the glasses on his nose and turning around, Wonwoo stared at the downward escalator, locking eyes with a pretty dark-haired girl he’d never seen before. She wiggled her fingers at him with a flirtatious smile, the scent of her perfume still lingering. Fresh roses, he thought.

He blinked at her once, twice, then turned back around.

Never in a million years.

It was funny, though.

Once Wonwoo stopped outside the clothing store you were supposedly inside, he felt the myriad of distractions and scents and noises dampen behind him. The irritability he couldn’t shake was slowly transforming into nerves. He’d never met you before, unless half-glances controlled by fear from across the small, basement auditorium that hosted creative writing counted.

Focusing on one breath, and then another, followed by a deep, self-soothing inhale, Wonwoo attempted to convince himself that he was in control, not the emotions quivering at his fingertips.

He cracked his neck and walked in.

After a minute or two of confused isle-pacing, Wonwoo rounded a corner, his eyes immediately fixating on a girl who was picking through a neatly assorted dress rack, her head tilted elegantly and her lipstick glimmering under the sterileness of the lights—you.

He gulped. Just suck it up.

She can’t be that bad. You can’t be that bad.

“Uh, sorry to bother you. I’m Wonwoo. I know we have a mutual friend in Seokmin. Lee Seokmin. He’s in one of your seminar classes or something, and, uh…. anyway. I believe I’m supposed to help you with a book you’re interested in writing… that’s what I was told, at the very least. And… I know we’ve never met but… um… I guess…” he trailed off upon noting your lack of acknowledgement.

Suddenly, he was taking a step back, letting you progress further along the clothing rack, your fingers hopping between each hanger and your eyes scanning their corresponding fabrics.

Wonwoo jerked on the inside with panic. He hated the situation already, though he somehow found the resounding courage, or perhaps, humility, to address you again, even if he’d rather die.

“So, I’m not sure if you—”

“Can you move, please? Over here or something? I want this dress.”

He kept his mouth shut in order to avoid spilling out any obtuse nonsense, instead watching with a nervous, analyzing gaze as you removed the hanger and shook out the purple, wine-coloured fabric, its sparkles rippling when you stroked your hand along it.

“Woah. This is too pretty.”

Wonwoo cleared his throat, unsure if you were speaking to him directly. You already had a bundle of dresses tossed over your arm. Why would you meet up with him when you were clearly busy?

“Hey, what did you say your name was?”

“Me?” He found himself echoing.

“No, the mannequin wearing that hideous plaid mini skirt. Of course I’m talking to you. Should I get you a q-tip or something?”

“No... I don't need a q-tip. It’s Wonwoo.”

“Wonwoo?” You exercised the name slowly on your tongue.

“Yeah.”

“Okay, well, just so you’re aware, it’s 11:35. You were supposed to meet me outside the boutique at 11:30. I can see you’re not very punctual, so that’s noted…” for a moment, you stood back, and the searing line of your gaze judgmentally raked him from top to bottom. “Anyway… you’ll have to assist me with some things now, thanks to your big delay. I got all bored waiting for you, so I decided to do a little self-indulgent shopping."

It could have been wiser to continue biting his tongue, but even Wonwoo, who had practically vowed to avoid you for all eternity  due to his fear, felt compelled to challenge your unorthodox logic.

“Big delay? I don’t mean to be rude, but I did take the bus to get here, and their timing is never right. I feel like five minutes is a reasonable time to wait. Not that I’m saying you’re impatient.”

“Well, here’s the thing…” your back turned to him as you took a few slow steps down the clothing rack, probing between the different, pricy materials for anything exuberant you might have missed. “That is what you said, isn’t it? That I’m impatient? I mean—jeez—why bother dancing around it when you can just say it?”

He watched you face him again, except he was keeping perfectly silent, clutching his hand into an anxious, balled fist.

“Well, I suspect you lack urgency, making you apathetic, so therefore you have no sense of initiative. I’m sure you’re already aware, anyway. I can be slow, too, with certain things. Like, when I’m icing a cake. Or painting my nails. But I don’t walk slow, ever. That’s for unmotivated, pointless people who will probably go nowhere in life.”

“… Pardon?”

“Hold this, please.”

Suddenly, you draped the wine-coloured dress over Wonwoo’s shoulder. And he left it there for a second, still gobsmacked, chest shuddering from the pressure of his pumping heart, and wondered how you were even a real person. Once you began walking elsewhere in the store, Wonwoo questioned a very understandable escape toward the exit, though, for some reason, he snapped from his stupor and quickly paced after you, now folding the dress more straightly over his arm. He realized he was too afraid to surrender.

“I’m supposed to help you write a book,” he stated, feeling his lungs dig deep for air, “Seokmin said you needed help.”

“Okay, I’m tired of holding these two. Here—” you again blanketed the dresses into his arms, “—please keep this olive one in good shape, no crinkles. I have yet to find this colour anywhere else.”

Swinging back around, you began heading toward the change rooms, your uncomfortably tall looking heels clicking with each step. Wonwoo stuttered, and he couldn’t stop doing it—just, absolutely baffled by you and your consuming sense of worth. He didn’t know what to say, he could only follow, producing bits and pieces of sentences that you were either ignoring or genuinely hadn’t heard in comparison to the monologues in your own head.

“At what point will we discuss why I’m here?”

Finally, he spat out something coherent.

You paused, and for a fleeting moment, flicked your very intense eyes up and down in an examination of Wonwoo, who felt like he was being intrusively picked apart under a microscope.

 He swallowed tautly, “I’m just wondering… that’s all.”

You pressed your wallet against the top of his shoulder, guiding him to sit down on the white leather stool placed just outside the fitting rooms. He sat, too, fighting the urge to wipe his clammy palms on his jeans—even worse, the dresses you’d dumped on him.

“Let’s talk after I try these on, ‘kay?”

There was something different about your voice. It fell lower, sweeter, and he shivered with the thought that you had quite possibly just hypnotized him. He looked up at you, nodding his head.

“Good. Everyone calls me Her, by the way.”

“I know.”

He held his breath as you reached out to take a dress, the wine-coloured one, which was more like a dark, nightly amethyst now that Wonwoo was observing the fabric up close. So, what the hell was he supposed to do? Just sit there, twiddling his thumbs and shaking his knee while you busied yourself with fitting into all those wildly sumptuous dresses? There was a plethora of other things he’d rather be doing—too many to name, in fact. But he wasn’t going to bother slithering away now, chiefly because you petrified him too much and he wasn’t in the mood to be further guilt-tripped by Seokmin.  

Throwing his head back, he blew out a tired huff and looked at the ceiling. Why the fuck was he doing this? He just couldn’t stop thinking it. What on earth could he possibly gain from being terrorized by your weird authority.

“Hey, I’ve been there, for sure.”

Wonwoo noticed an older man waltzing past him, probably in his early thirties or so, who’d spoken in a sympathetic tone. He seemed very polished and clean-cut, made apparent by his sleek suit, and as a university student who was routinely on the verge of going broke after most rents, Wonwoo knew money when he saw it.

“Pardon?”

The man stopped and smiled.

“Waiting for your girlfriend, aren’t you?”

“Oh, no. I’m just—”

He was interrupted by the squeak of the change room door.

“Be honest. How does this look?”

You had stepped out to examine your silhouette in the large, full-body mirrors against the wall, taking advantage of the heavier lighting to scrutinize every divot and ruffle that textured the amethyst dress. Wonwoo wasn’t sure what to say in the moment, and the man he was explaining himself to had wandered off into another aisle to answer a phone call. He watched your fingers pick and pull at the material so it could be readjusted in certain places, your bottom lip pursed as you angled your hips and tensed a leg to make a pose.

There were at least three other dresses strewn in his lap, and you were most definitely going to make him sit there and judge each one. Now, he could be honest. The dress was glittery yet sophisticated, something like a gloaming, purple-stained sky and its first emergent stars encapsulated into fabric, though he wasn’t completely sold on it. But he also wanted to leave the mall as quick as time would allow, so rather than being verbose, he shaved it down.

“It’s pretty, not great. I don’t really know.”

“Hmm…” you mumbled, keeping your eyes fixated on the mirror, “not great? What’s not great about it? The frilly parts?”

“Yeah, the frilly parts.”

God, he wanted to go home so bad. Warm tea would be nice right now. There were crinkle-cut fries in his freezer.

“Ugh, but I love the colour. I’m getting conflicted. Maybe I’ll toss it aside and think about it again later. Yeah, I’ll do that... okay, let me get the white one next. It’s a little short but I can make it work.”

 Wonwoo carefully pulled out the white outfit from the bottom of the pile and handed it off to you. The skirt was notably cropped.

Again, you strode back into the change room and softly clicked the door shut behind you. Wonwoo pulled out his phone almost immediately, navigating to his texts with Seokmin. His thumbs blasted against the screen, tapping out literary warfare that expanded into a decent sized paragraph Seokmin would most likely respond to with an apologetic smiley face. It might take a day or two for Wonwoo to cool off, but he always forgave him. Mr. Sunshine.

When he heard the door rattle, Wonwoo quickly hid his phone back in his pants pocket; however, he severely regretted that decision because holy fuck—that vinyl white skirt was indeed short and tight and the winding, crossed straps of the top were just maintaining your cleavage. He needed something to help avert his eyes because Wonwoo felt them itch with the urge to stare at your body despite how uncomfortable he was. The floor tiles—count the floor tiles, or count the lights—something, anything to distract his brain.

“Okay, this is like—if I bend over, I’m flashing someone.”

He prayed you wouldn’t ask him his thoughts.

“But like—okay, I can make this work, right? This has potential. If I stand really straight, and proper, and, just… pull this down a bit here—okay, fuck, that was too much. Don’t look for a second… don’t look…. don’t look… m’kay, fixed it.”

Wonwoo wanted to cradle his head in his hands. And, right when he swore that the situation couldn’t sink much lower, the wealthy, black-suit man returned from his phone call. He paused the second he saw you in the mirror, watching intensely as you fiddled with the vinyl and attempted to adjust the x-shaped top a little higher over your cleavage. Except he wasn’t exactly modest about his gaze. It was drinking you in like some sort of insatiable alcohol.

“This is tough,” you huffed, pressing your hands against your chest, “the top is super sexy. I love how open the back is. But it’s such little fabric considering the price. It sucks that I look so hot in it.”

Horrendously, Wonwoo noticed a jewel bracelet slip off your wrist onto the tiled floor. Even more horrendously, he watched in the tensest position possible as you began to bend over and grab it.

No. No, no, no, no way.

The last two dresses spilled in a silk and cotton heap off his lap, nearly tripping him during his rush toward you. He managed to cover your backside in the most heart-hammering nick of time, his hands accidentally brushing in static sparks against yours to help you pull the tight fabric back down your hips. Knowing the man was still watching in the mirror, Wonwoo clasped onto your arm and dragged you back toward the fitting room, his cheeks turned to rubies.

“Fuck, you need to be more careful,” he rasped, “the skirt is too short for you to bending over like that, alright?”

“I’m not leaving a gifted two-hundred-dollar bracelet on the fucking ground. Should I have just kicked it into the change room?”

“Gosh…” Wonwoo rubbed along his neck with tire and lowered his voice. “Bending over in a skirt that short, especially when there’s a fucking weirdo watching you, is not the best procedure.”

“So, it’s my fault he’s a creep?”

“Okay—that wasn’t what I—um—”

“Do you even like this outfit?” You deadpanned.

Wonwoo chuckled in disbelief, “I’m not answering that.”

“This is useless." Your eyes agitatedly rolled. “I’m changing.”

“Great, whatever. Do that.”

He gently pushed you further into the change room and closed the door with a smooth, loud shutter. His heart was still racing.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t let my girlfriend wear that either.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Wonwoo didn’t care that his tone was snappish and clearly tired as he collapsed back onto the stool, making a point to ignore the perverted bastard until he left.

“Wonwoo!” You called his name after a few minutes of silence from the fitting room, “please bring me the green one!”

He wanted to utterly vanish, have the building collapse and crush him in a pile of dust plumes and rubble. Sliding the dress through the small gap in the changeroom door, Wonwoo found himself pausing.

“Why don’t I just hand all these to you?”

“Because, I’m using the hangers in here for my clothes.”

“Why can’t you just pu—”

“Thank you!”

Impatiently, you nabbed the dress and shut the door.

However, that dress was the last one you tried on, and Wonwoo couldn’t have been any more relieved. Talking to you seemed like it might give him heartburn or a hemorrhage.

He thought the shiny colour of olive green suited you best.

The dress was silken and long, slightly form-fitting, with a slit cut far up the right thigh and thin spaghetti straps at the shoulders.

You picked the first three dresses to take home, and left the last shimmery one on the rack.

“We’re leaving now?” Wonwoo asked, cracking his fingers.

“Yes, after I pay. Don’t seem so eager.”

“With all due respect, this place isn't really my scene.”

“Your attitude isn't really my scene.” You swiftly corrected him.

He stood next to you at the counter, observing as you zipped open your small black wallet to pull out a credit card. If you were shopping at a store like this, you must be making bank. But Wonwoo was somewhat nosey, and when you set the card on the countertop, he glanced at its embossed name. It definitely wasn’t your name.

Kim Mingyu.

It was your boyfriend’s.

[ Wonwoo | 1:15 pm ]: Goddammit Seokmin answer me

[ Wonwoo | 1:15 pm]: I’ve sent you at least ten texts

[ Wonwoo | 1:16 pm ]: Truly how do you do anything with this girl? I feel like she’s somewhat psychotic and you just fucking had to flash your sad mopey eyes at me in that café so I would break and help her write her book. I’m sitting here with dresses in my lap, pretty much acting as her unpaid personal assistant. Why the fuck is she asking me about dresses, anyway? Did you help her orchestrate this bullshit? I’m actually pissed at you. I want an entire paid lunch.

He wasn’t all that surprised you made him carry the matte silver shopping bag (with these twine handles that he absolutely hated because of how they suffocated around his fingers), and by a certain point, Wonwoo just didn’t give a damn any more. What little social battery he’d maintained since leaving his apartment had officially depleted, for he could feel it weighing in the plaza air around him like an imperceptible mist. Unfortunately, you weren’t lying about being a fast walker. He’d never seen someone stalk with such vigor.

It was nearly an endurance test to keep at your swaying hip, and the few times he fell behind, you would pause and beckon for him.

But Wonwoo discovered that even you needed to stop, to eat and drink like a normal human rather than the disguised cyborg he fleetingly speculated you were. Your touch was so abrupt—a hand had curled around his bicep and suddenly Wonwoo found himself being jerked into a café on the bottom floor of the mall. Of course, you had to pick the most expensive place to buy food in the entire fucking vicinity, and since Wonwoo was penny pinching at the moment, he opted to stand back and let you order.

But then he saw you flick open your wallet, waving Mingyu’s sleek yet flashy credit card between your fingers with blatant enticement.

“I can pay for you.”

He shook his head, muttering a careless, “no thanks.”

“Don't BS me. What do you want to eat?”

Wonwoo couldn’t stop staring at the credit card.

“What’s the limit on that thing?”

“Enough.”

“You haven’t burned through it already?”

“These openly snide comments you’re making aren’t appreciated, you know. Now, please give me an answer before I break off the temples to your glasses so I can use them to stir my drink.”

“… What?” Wonwoo mumbled, completely lost.

“Pick something!”

“Okay, fuck. I’ll just get a coffee, then.”

He took a step forward to examine the menu boards that the employees were wildly scuttling around underneath, browsing down their chalk-written cold brews until he picked one at random.

That was all Wonwoo asked for.

You bought a lemonade and some sandwich he didn’t catch the name of, toasted on panini bread. It felt amazing to sit down. Wonwoo let the silver bag slide completely off his arm and hit the floor, to which he could sense your gaze stinging over him in disapproval. He should have gotten a sandwich himself, but Wonwoo still wasn’t sure how he felt about using the money on your boyfriend’s credit card.

Wonwoo relaxed in his chair, angling a glance down at his phone that he kept below the table, checking for any Seokmin texts.

None. He was supposed to be Wonwoo’s stupid life preserver in this situation with you, and so far, he’d been left for dead. Taking a lengthy sip from his drink was the only way he could stomach it.

“You should put your phone on the table. Screen down.”

“For what reason?” Wonwoo responded in a dull tone, quickly checking his social media with impatient swipes of his thumb.

“So we can have a conversation.”

At that, he almost gagged, slapping down the coffee cup he’d just picked up.

“Now?” Wonwoo laughed, his deep voice reverberating louder than he intended around the café, “you want to talk now?”

“Uh, yes,” you answered, picking up one half of your sandwich and readying it before your mouth, “why is that shocking?”

“Because—you—ah, whatever.”

“You seem crabby. Is that your normal shtick or are you just hangry? Are you sure you don’t want anything to eat?”

He was in a worse mood than usual, but that could be blamed entirely on the mall and how exhausted it made him feel—everything about its environment sucked out his soul. It was most likely the reason he was even daring to act so impatient. You took another bite as you waited for him to answer, and the delicious crackling sound of the toasted bread managed to fissure something inside him.

“Your eyes tell all. Here’s the other half.” You offered.

Finally, he’d experienced his first flares of contentment that day, though he wasn’t expecting it to be from a panini sandwich with what he could taste to be lettuce, mayonnaise, tomato, and different types of melted cheese.

“Thanks.”

“Well, I’ll at least give us time to finish eating.”

[ Seokmin | 2:30pm ]: I can do one paid lunch :)

[ Seokmin | 2:30 pm ]: Her’s not psychotic she’s just uhh

[ Seokmin | 2:31 pm ]: She probs did it to mess with you 

[ Wonwoo | 2:37 pm ]: She thinks being 5 mins late warrants putting me through one of the worst experiences in my life.

[ Seokmin | 2:37 pm ]: Awwww

[ Seokmin | 2:37 pm ]: Who doesn’t like a little shopping??

[ Wonwoo | 2:39 pm ]: It wasn’t shopping it was torture. You owe me so much more than a fucking lunch.

—MARCH 29TH.

Unfortunately, Wonwoo never got the opportunity to discuss your book that Saturday. In the middle of eating, your phone buzzed with a brief call that had interrupted your peculiarly passionate rant on the different cup sizes at the movie theatre (Wonwoo had listened without saying anything, mostly because he dreaded the circumstances that may come from peeping a word when you were so fixated on explaining that ‘the medium is too much but the small is too little and they’re both obnoxiously priced’).

He then watched cluelessly as you launched up from the table, collecting every little belonging between your fingers, babbling about some wax appointment that had escaped you.

It was just that simple—you were gone.

In the beginning moments of your absence, Wonwoo had sat there without much inclination of what to do next.

He’d worried it was another test, and that he was supposed to dutifully follow you to said wax appointment and continue bending to your every endeavour with no retaliation throughout the day. He had also found the silence across from him unsettling, in a way.

Nonetheless, if you weren’t there, then Wonwoo figured he didn’t need to be there either. So he left, taking the fifty-six back to his apartment, and you hadn’t contacted him since.

Wonwoo actually knew his landlord quite well.

Her building was comprised of four apartments, which sat above her pottery shop on the ground floor. She wasn’t a very bothersome landlord and it was fairly easy to connect with her whenever something broke or caused problems.

When he first moved in three years ago, Wonwoo had ardently adored living there, constantly studying the shelves of shiny glazed vases in addition to the beautiful water colour paintings that were created by his landlord or her students. It had been an inspiration supernova in terms of his personal literature, and he was able to start writing his book. Though, at the time, Wonwoo hadn’t been living alone in his apartment, and it was an inescapable fact that the only reason he began writing his book was with the hope of eventually presenting it to his old girlfriend-slash-roommate.

Now, it was just him.

And as Wonwoo pushed up from his grave of rumpled bedsheets, feeling lethargic and empty, he tried concerningly hard to pinch those thoughts from his mind. It was nearly lunch. He knew damn well he shouldn’t have allowed himself to rot that long in bed, but the other half of himself, the self-sabotaging kind, just couldn’t be bothered to fucking care. Wonwoo reached for his glasses that lay half-opened on the nightstand, raking them onto his face while brushing the hair from his eyes. The first thing he properly saw was his tall, skinny, orange bottle of venlafaxine. No. He was ignoring it.

Wonwoo had been ignoring it for the past few months.

Whenever he got particularly sick of staring at the bottle, he’d shove it in his drawer, making sure to bury it deep under old, amply-scribbled notepads and inkless pens that he’d worn to the bone. At last getting up from the bed, Wonwoo experienced his entire body sway and he caught the room spinning at the distant edges of his peripheral. But he walked through it without a care in the world, utterly too used to the feeling of imminent nausea even without his medication. He decided on a shower, then dressing himself, one Poptart, a swig of water from the kitchen tap, and almost walked out the apartment door with the minty toothbrush still in his mouth.

After walking three blocks down from his apartment, Wonwoo stepped across the dead, spiky grass and into the lacklustre parking lot behind the bowling alley that always smelled like stale pizza.

He knew the vanilla Camry well enough to identify it—stalled smack and centre amongst the emptiness—the licence plate being chiselled into his head like his old locker combination from high school (16-12-24, because Wonwoo for some reason liked fixating on prehistoric details that were glaringly useless in his present).

Early two-thousands R&B was blasting from inside the outdated-looking car, though it was thankfully turned down once Wonwoo threw the door open and shimmied inside.

The odor permeated Wonwoo’s lungs in a heartbeat.

“I thought you were getting this dry-cleaned,” he sighed to his friend, Vernon, who was busy rifling through a backpack.

“Uh, didn’t happen. Didn’t wanna pay all that. M’gonna find someone else to do it that’s not taxin’ my ass. Air fresheners are all dried n’shit so you’re gonna have to deal. My bad, Glasses.”

Glasses. That nickname had always made Wonwoo huff a little half-chuckle, and almost instinctively, he pushed the glasses a bit higher back up his nose. He was introduced to Vernon at a New Year’s Eve party he was forced to attend back in December, though it had been difficult to speak with him because he was blitzed out of his fucking mind—not to mention the choking pain of ignoring the girl who had been sliding her hands along the divots of his shoulders and chest from behind, kissing at his neck.

But Vernon was branded in tattoos, and had all kinds of metal in his face, and was blessed with concupiscent, honey-burnish eyes magnetized every woman in the vicinity straight to him.

Somehow, Vernon had become Wonwoo’s plug in the mix.

“Now, what are you gettin’, Glasses? The usual quarter ounce, right?” Vernon’s tongue poked between his blistered lips as he dug a heavily-inked hand further into the backpack seated in his lap.

“Yeah, quarter ounce.”

“Oh, fuck yeah. Found it. This one.” Vernon exchanged the plastic-bagged ounces of weed with Wonwoo’s cash. “Gimme, gimme. I know it’s all here, but let me check… “ he flaked out the tinted bills with a satisfied head nod. “Prettier than a princess. You’re golden.”

“Did you just say princess?”

“Yeah. That’s what I said… what?”

“I’ve never heard that.”

“It’s not princess?”

“It’s picture, isn’t it? Prettier than a picture.”

“Really? Oh. That’s not how I remember—why the fuck are we even talkin’ about this? Doesn’t fuckin’ matter. Now, that’s gonna last you if you’re cute,” he said, throwing his notorious bag into the seat behind him, then tapping at his busted radio with a thick strip of tape across it, the next song rasping through the speakers, “don’t go crazy on it with your meds and shit. Do you still got enough papers?”

Wonwoo scoffed dryly at Vernon’s assumption while he hid the plastic bag within an inside pouch on his navy-blue jacket. A second later and his phone buzzed with a text message.

“Fuck the meds, honestly,” Wonwoo grunted, shifting his hips up in the seat to remove the phone from his back pocket.

Vernon itched his dark eyebrow. “Alright. Just askin’.”

Wonwoo opted to say nothing as he checked the text message without much expectation, and he was thankful that Vernon was the type to drop a subject easily. Instead his friend transitioned into a different conversation, something about another tattoo that he’d been debating, but in the kindest way possible, Wonwoo wasn’t listening to a goddamn word. You had texted him. Finally. For the first time. After three days of radio silence. And Wonwoo didn’t know why he’d suddenly exploded into such a fidgety, heart-pounding mess. You wanted to meet up again in order to discuss the book’s details.

“Who the fuck is that? Jesus Christ?”

“No,” Wonwoo laughed, clasping his right hand into an anxious fist, “um, I dunno. Just—Seokmin’s got me doing this thing with a friend of his. She’s trying to write a book and he kinda threw me into helping her. We’re supposed to meet up and talk about it.”

“Oh,” Vernon answered, leaning his elbow against the window and sweeping a hand through his black tresses, “do I know the chick?”

“Maybe?”

“She got any social media? An Instagram?”

“Yeah.”

“Ou, let me see.”

Wonwoo wasn’t following you. Then again, he was hardly following anyone. His Instagram had remained completely empty since his girlfriend left him, which had prompted Wonwoo to archive every single picture and delete all the ones that contained her, even the ones that captured mere traces of her in beaded bracelets and hair ties and white socks left on the carpet.

Wonwoo used Seokmin’s account to find you. Honestly, he hadn’t ever looked at your Instagram before. Without gleaning a single photo, Wonwoo thrust his phone at Vernon.

“Oh, yeah, I do know this chick,” Vernon chuckled, thumbing through your profile with a growing smirk, “Her, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Mm, yeah. Know her. Tried to fuck her. Didn’t work at all.”

Snapping his head to look at Vernon, Wonwoo gaped, “what?”

“Yeah, I mean—” Vernon adjusted himself in his seat, pulling up his knee to rest a tattoo-coated arm across it, “—ran into the chick at a party that some rich dude at your university threw. Sweet-talked her for a bit until I realized she had a stupid boyfriend. She told me a million different ways to kill myself. Yeah, she’s somethin’, for sure.”

“You’re lying.”

“Ha—a little. She didn’t tell me to kill myself,  just scolded me for about ten minutes. God, she was wired as fuck though. Her boyfriend—fuckin’, Mingyu, or whatever—he gets her coke. I’ve seen her take a line like it’s pixie dust, man. This was like, over a year ago, though. Dunno if she’s still that loopy. I don’t care. She’s pretty hot.”

Vernon then flashed him a picture from your account, a full body picture of you sprawled across sparkling white sand in a bikini, meanwhile Wonwoo could only stare at it with the blankest possible expression as his brain splattered with computing Vernon’s story.

“Is she still with him?” Vernon asked.

Wonwoo cleared his throat and sat with his spine rigid against the leather, nearly forgetting where he was and what he was doing.

“With who?”

“Lady Liberty. Mingyu.”

“Oh… yeah. They’re dating, still.”

“No fuckin’ way,” his friend lamented while he continuously plunged further into your pictures, thumb pressed to his chin, eyes glimmering, “you coulda flipped this book thing on its head and actually got some fuckin’ head, especially with that deep ass voice you got there. I know it’s gotta feel good. I mean, look at her lips—”

“You’re being gross as fuck,” Wonwoo groaned, swiping his phone back and stuffing it away, “get a girlfriend yourself, man.”

“I’m tryin’ to clean up my act a bit before I do that.”

“That’s definitely a work in progress, I’m assuming.”

“Asshole,” Vernon’s voice was gritty as he coughed into a fist, slipping his knee back under the steering wheel and proceeding to crank his stereo until the music was practically suffocating Wonwoo, “now get the fuck out. You’re not my only deal today. Sorry, Glasses.”

“Later.”

Wonwoo pushed open the door and stepped outside into the cold afternoon breeze. He sucked in a long, relieving breath. At times the fresh air disgusted him, especially when he cozied into one of his mental ruts and everything in the world seemed so grey it was soul-crushing, but Vernon’s car smelled like straight fucking cannabis.

Fresh air was heavenly.

“Don’t forget to text your girl!” Vernon laughed just before Wonwoo slammed the door shut to swallow up the melodic lyrics.

He wanted to make a snap comment before the boy drove off to his next endeavour, but he didn’t care enough to think of one.

[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 1:35 pm ]: hey wonwoo, it’s her. I think we should finally settle a date to talk about this book thing. let me attach a pic of my schedule and you can pick any open slots

[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 1:35 pm ]: 145_348.JPG

[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 1:35 pm ]:  seokmin isn’t going to be our communicator anymore, so u can stop complaining to him about it

[ Wonwoo | 1:45 pm ]: Okay, thanks.

[ Wonwoo | 1:45 pm]: I’ll take a look soon.

[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 1:45 pm ]: I’m excited to see you again

[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 1:50 pm ]: no likewise?!

[ Wonwoo | 1:50 pm ]: Likewise.

[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 1:50 pm ]: ugh. thx

—APRIL 1ST.

It was around six in the evening and Wonwoo was seated in the SRX building, the sky rolling with lambent, hazy-toned pastures of peach in the windows behind him. He had arrived about an hour ago, taking the staircase up to the third floor. It was much quieter there, making it easier for Wonwoo to endlessly stare with glazed, void eyes at his laptop screen and the cursed document he couldn’t finish. After tapping his fingernails in a bored, repetitious pattern against the shiny white table, he felt the urge to delete each and every paragraph as if he hadn’t poured months of earnest love into them.

You would be meeting him soon.

He could still remember looking at your schedule, pinching into the screen and examining all the different colour-coded blocks: dinner parties, SSA meetings, gym sessions, errands—how the fuck you managed to juggle those things and more left him marvelled yet terrified. You were pretty on point regarding your arrival time, to which Wonwoo could immediately identify you before even seeing your face due to the heel clicking and the sounds of tapping jewelry on your bag.

Emerging onto the floor with a very intense scowl and a notably crushing grip on your drink, you were to say the least, angry. Wonwoo gnawed slightly on his tongue as you sat down.

Your purse clunked like a cinderblock onto the table.

He watched you inhale a slow, shaky breath, raising your hand with the expansion of your chest in order to calm down.

 “I’m going to kill myself.”

Wonwoo leaned back in the chair, subtly trying to establish more distance between you. He flicked a glance at his laptop.

“Damn. Why is that?”

“Because of stupid, incompetent people.”

“Yeah?”

“I just—I don’t get it!” You laughed, though it wasn’t a particularly jovial sound and more than anything it seemed like you were going to start smashing glass. “I don’t get how people are unable to understand that we don’t do walk-ins unless one of the stylists are free—” you dug a hand into your purse, pulling out a straw, “—which in the salon’s case, is almost never! I tell them we can’t in my very sweet, established customer service voice: ‘I’m sorry, but the only way to receive a chair is to book online.'”

Wonwoo tilted his head, grinning a little.

“Blah, blah. I tell them the entire story in the kindest way I can, even though I want to grab them by their fucking neck and drag them over the counter to show them our website.” You slipped out your laptop next, accidentally dragging out a lanyard along with it that you agitatedly shoved back into the purse. “And then, they get all uptight and pissy when we can’t wriggle them in! Sorry, our makeup artists are busy! Working with people who made scheduled fucking appointments! The world doesn’t fucking revolve around you!”

You scraped the drink toward you, slamming the straw straight through the plastic film lid with such force that several people ended up turning their heads. After taking a long sip, you gulped and glared until they probably realized it was you and pretended not to care.

For a moment, Wonwoo didn’t know what to say, so he’d folded his arms instead. Considering that Wonwoo worked the late shift stocking shelves at the pharmacy department, your predicament sounded like an entirely new world to him.

“Ugh, I’m sorry to bring all this negativity with me,” you apologized, still exasperated, “I don’t need this fucking tea—I need straight vodka. I’m seriously frazzled.”

“Seriously frazzled?” Wonwoo repeated, finding your choice of words funny as he resumed leaning forward, arms still crossed.

“Very, seriously frazzled.”

“I’m sorry about your day.”

Again, you sighed deeply while removing your long, warm jacket to drape over the chair’s spine—it was a rather elegant reveal of the strapless pearl dress underneath, tinted by the evening light, peach-pink as it rained from the ceiling length windows and framed your body like you were some sort of resurrected angel. Tension at last started escaping your shoulders. Wonwoo quickly realized that he'd been staring, and his fingers curled into a nervous fist.

“You’re actually such a good listener.”

Wonwoo cleared his throat. “Um, thank you.”

“I like that you don’t interrupt me.”

Settling his elbows on the table and ruffling the back of his messy black locks, Wonwoo felt himself panic a little on the inside.

“Well,” he heaved in, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I know," you chirped, posturing yourself confidently, “anyway, the book. We need to talk about it.”

“Table’s yours.”

Wonwoo’s knuckles pressed softly into his cheek while he waited for you to prepare your laptop. His own document was glowing at him, and he swore the emptiness of the page made the screen brighter (in the absolute worst, most mocking way).

“Okay, I’ve got my ideas and such pulled up.”

He expected you to continue and introduce the concept, but you had suddenly stopped, and Wonwoo thought you appeared almost smitten and somewhat timorous. It was strange, because from what he’d known and gauged so far, you were nothing akin to that.

“Well, promise that you won’t think it’s ridiculous.”

“I don’t even know what it is.”

“That’s why I want you to promise!”

Wonwoo pushed up his glasses and sighed, “I will need to be honest at some points you know, depending on what kind of help you want from me. Not that I’m going to be a straight-up dick.”

You scoured at him from over your laptop.

“Whatever.”

“I’ll promise if it makes you feel better.”

“Just—shut up." You wiggled your hand at him dismissively and proceeded to tug the laptop closer. “I don’t even care anymore.”

Once you spent a moment affirming the document to yourself, you looked up at him and smiled. “I’m going to write a book for Mingyu. Our fifth anniversary is coming up in the winter—it’s actually on Christmas Eve—the day he officially asked me to be his girlfriend. I just want to write him a little memoire thingy that tells our story. I want it to walk through the events of our lives, and how I remember them. First encounter, first date, first kiss, stuff like that. I’ve already collected some good memories to include. I have… somewhat of an outline? But my problem is the writing. I can spew nonsense from my mouth at a million miles an hour, but when I try to actually write? It’s crickets.”

You sat back, a hand poised thoughtfully at your cheek while one leg folded over the other. Wonwoo knew you were granting him the space to speak and at least offer a slice of his thoughts, yet, in that moment, he found himself to be drowning. He didn’t believe in fate or destiny or anything of the delusional like; however, hearing you explain the exact premise of a story that he had been successfully writing until a certain breakup—it had shaken him, and Wonwoo felt like the universe was smearing salt fresh into his unsewn wounds.

“So…” your head cocked to the side. “Can I at least an ‘okay’ or a head nod or some sign of life? Or are you just too disgusted?”

What could he say? What was he supposed to say?

Wonwoo was genuinely clueless on how to help you write a story that he’d been utterly failing at writing himself. And, sure, maybe Wonwoo should just give up completely. His ex-girlfriend had ripped out his heart without a single indication that it would happen, and then exited his life in the blink of an eye, disappearing so fucking abruptly that Wonwoo could have said she was a shadow that he imagined in pure lunacy. But he hadn’t dropped the story because there was this very stubborn, unwilling part of his being that could not move on from her—her, who had been his love, and breath, and bones.

He’d decided to finish the story as a manner of easing into closure. If that closure never came, then so be it.

“Are you seriously fucking ignoring me right now?”

His silence had promptly disturbed your peace, and now you were glaring at him with the beginning licks of fire and hell in your eyes.

“I don’t think I can help you.”

“What?” You pronounced sharply. “Are you kidding?”

“No, I’m sorry,” Wonwoo said while closing his laptop and sliding it back into his shoulder-sling bag, “I just—I’m not the right person to help you. I’m not, and you’ll have to take my word for it.”

“Seokmin told me you could write fucking anything. He made it out like you were some literature God with a golden quill. And—great, you’re just packing up fucking everything. Are you serious? Am I even allowed more of an explanation or are you gonna leave it at that? Wonwoo, you couldn’t have told me this at a worse time.”

“I didn’t plan for it to be like that.” He could hardly push the syllables up his diaphragm. “It can’t be me. I’m sorry.”

You didn’t lift a finger to stop him from leaving, though the wavelength of your incinerating stare was felt like a hot, melting scratch down his neck. This was terrible, he was terrible—Wonwoo already knew that about himself. He wanted to go home. He wanted to shut himself away in his room and sink straight through the sheets until he was swallowed. His anxiety was webbing around him. It was pulling him down into the soil and earth like he belonged there.

He truly hated this part of himself.

More than anything, he truly hated when other people saw it.

Especially people like you.

—APRIL 8TH.

Wonwoo didn’t think you would ever speak to him again, in person or over text message. In retrospect, he was fine with it. You were rather overwhelming and especially tiring for someone like Wonwoo who would be perfectly fine never seeing another human in his lifetime. Not to mention he was freed from helping you with your book, which he learned was a technical love letter to your boyfriend in addition to a romance he wanted a nonexistent part in. Going down that path once was already excruciating enough, and given his anxiety attack that saw him locked in a cold washroom stall last week, it was best you just forget about him. He assumed you already had, anyway.

After he stocked the last red bottle of sinus medicine onto the shelf, Wonwoo used his boxcutter to break down the cardboard package and fold it flat with the others he’d opened. It was time for his break, and then he would only have one more hour until the pharmacy section closed for the night. Once it hit ten o’clock, the store was automatically still and hardly anyone came in—minus the few student couples whom Wonwoo had to point in the direction of pregnancy tests or plan b. But it was a Tuesday night. He was at the bare minimum appeased he didn’t have to console a sobbing, snotty-nosed eighteen-year-old girl imploring for a First Response.

When he collapsed down at his favourite seat in the breakroom, Wonwoo pulled out his phone. He had sent Seokmin a text yesterday evening about going studying at the SRX building for their upcoming math midterm, though Seokmin had yet to respond and Wonwoo couldn’t evade wondering if you were pulling some strings behind the curtain.

He opened his bottle of juice and spent the remainder of his fifteen listening to music and jittering his knee.

Wonwoo took his earbuds with him back onto the floor, sneaking the wires under his shirt to pull out his collar. There were only a few boxes left on his cart that required stocking, and whatever didn’t fit would have to be scanned into storage. That shouldn't take long. Wonwoo could almost taste the crisp atmosphere of the night air and feel the gentle chilliness soon to ghost against his face.

However, halfway into shelving the cough drops there had been a polite tap on his shoulder, and Wonwoo wanted to wither up and lose his head right there on the tiles like a sundried rose.

He didn’t know who to expect when he turned around, pulling out a single earbud while the other continued to blast his music.  

“Oh, shit—I didn’t know you worked here.”

Fuck. He wanted to kill himself.

“Yeah, started a couple months ago, actually.”

Mingyu.

It’s not that Wonwoo didn’t like speaking with him, because they had definitely exchanged cordial conversations in the past, particularly when they both took that Probability Poker elective last semester and Wonwoo learned that Mingyu was a pretty decent bluffer. Unfortunately, Mingyu’s belief that he was a great bluffer was actually the one indication that he was indeed bluffing. It showed in his overly confident eyes before a twitch of the lips or a subtly shifted foot, meanwhile Wonwoo was able to sit there the entire time like he was an Easter Island statue incarnate.

Put simply, Wonwoo had always preferred to avoid Mingyu because he was your boyfriend, and per routine, he attempted to slip around most people that were associated with you.

“Cool.” Mingyu smiled and the flashes of his pointed teeth caught the light. “Stuff’s got switched around in here again.”

“New mods came out last week,” Wonwoo answered, placing the last cough drop box onto the shelf and facing it straight.

“Well, don’t know what the fuck that means,” his tone was brassy as he laughed, “I just came to ask where the plan b is now.”

 “Two aisles down, check the endcap.”

“Appreciate it, thanks—oh, condoms?”

“Next aisle.”

“Got it.”

“Just come get me when you’re done,” Wonwoo said, grabbing his boxcutter and running the blade along the taped seam of the cardboard to satisfyingly slice it open, “I’m the only one in pharmacy right now, so I have to ring you up.”

As soon as Mingyu disappeared around the corner, Wonwoo tossed the flattened cardboard onto his cart with the loudest, most life-draining sigh that could be harboured. He wasn’t the kind of person to cultivate those racing, panicky thoughts that consumed his brain like a merciless hurricane, rather it was typically one single thought that was an eternal black space to swallow him. But Wonwoo had to admit that seeing Mingyu had triggered something of the latter, and now he was feeling sick with the fact you possibly told Mingyu about his episode at the SRX building last week. To Wonwoo it had been the shackles of his anxiety, though it probably came across as a very ill-mannered, abrupt rejection from your perspective.

Mingyu didn’t take long picking out his items. It was clearly a run of the mill routine for him at this point—a mere grab and go.

At the register, Wonwoo mentally questioned why Mingyu had grabbed such a plethora of condoms. He didn’t mean to be vulgar in his thinking, but how often were you getting fucking railed?

Either that, or Mingyu preferred being well stocked.

Vernon would be bruising his knuckles on his steering wheel right now, considering how devotedly he attempted to seduce you.

As payment, Mingyu pulled out that godforsaken credit card that you had borrowed during the dress shopping. Wonwoo felt nauseous just looking at the damn thing. He swiped all of the items into a small plastic bag which he then handed to Mingyu with a notable impatience, wanting to whisk the boy out as quick as possible.

“G’night, man. Thanks for the help.”

“Night,” he answered in a deep, tired sigh, watching Mingyu’s head of thick and bouncy black hair disappear toward the aglow exit.

Well, clearly you weren’t wasting anytime thinking about him despite the dramatics pertaining to the situation last week, not even in the most marginal fraction. Mingyu must rail it out of you every night—not that Wonwoo would be surprised to learn such a thing considering the tall boy’s physique and your openly lascivious nature.

Well, good luck to you both, he supposed.

At least it was closing time.

Wonwoo had always suspected there was something ever so slightly off kilter about his body, especially in the way it reacted to certain situations and emotions. He knew it probably wasn’t the most mundane, ordinary act—locking himself in his aunt’s washroom the day of his sixteenth birthday, sliding down onto the cold, hard tiles, feeling his heart jolt, punch, and thump again his chest like a battering ram. There had been a pattern of rubber ducks on her eggshell blue shower curtain, and Wonwoo remembered counting them row by row, over and over, until his breath managed to steady.

Twenty-four ducks. He could still recall the number.

A doctor’s visit about three weeks later had granted him the diagnosis and a scribbled venlafaxine prescription. Wonwoo was already collecting his sweater off the tissue sheet bed, ready to leave.

In the beginning, he was strict about his medication. He organized them into pill cartridges and set alarms and always ate them with cooked, warm meals. Understandably, his habits dwindled every now and again, however, Wonwoo was quite pious to the routine for a good couple years. But then he met his most recent girlfriend in university. She was shy and reserved. All about the books.

Cute as buttons.

He fell in love.

And it was all such a rush of rose petals and sweet symphonies that Wonwoo became distracted from his healthy habits.

Of course, everything crashed and burned once she abandoned him. He capitulated in an instant, and the sight of the orange bottle made him paler than winter moonlight. It’s not like he wanted to suffer, or despise the way his body put him through a neural hell beyond his own control. The fact of the matter was that Wonwoo just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t take those stupid pills.

It was a mountain. Every. Single. Time.

And for the third time that week, Wonwoo found himself awake at an ungodly hour, rifling through the black lunchbox he kept in his closet with his glasses about to slip off the fine point of his nose.

He pulled out the baggie filled with the quarter-ounce, his silver grinder, and his rolling papers. Moving to his desk, Wonwoo clicked on the small overhead lamp to illuminate his space, in which he tapped some of the weed into his grinder and began twisting the lid until he was satisfied. He liked preparing joints to smoke on the roof. It wasn’t particularly hard to access, anyway. Right outside his bedroom window was a balcony with a short ladder attached to the brick, and once Wonwoo had discovered it, he made a habit of climbing up to spark his joints so that their pungent aroma could be carried away by the fresh winds usually stirred up at gloaming.

Honestly, it was the only thing he enjoyed.

Just before he slipped out the window, Wonwoo grabbed a pair of black jeans he’d worn earlier in the week, discovering the lighter he’d accidentally left in the back pocket.

The ladder shuddered slightly when Wonwoo gripped it, though if he were being candour, he didn’t care whatsoever if all the bolts suddenly loosened and he were to splatter against the sidewalk like an uncooked pancake. In fact, the fall probably wasn’t enough to kill him. Maybe a few broken bones and scrapes, some blood staining the street akin to little patterns of rain, bruises that signatured violets into his skin, but Wonwoo would still be painfully, vividly alive, enough to see the stars if the glasses didn’t snap off his face.

It was a colder night, so Wonwoo made sure to tuck on his beanie and huddle into his thicker-sized coat. He sat with one leg dangling over the building’s edge, feeling the wind whiplash against his back and crawl in these chilly, indecipherable whispers from his shoulders to his neck, almost tickling him, like it had missed him.

An orange flicker popped to life from the butane of his lighter, which he used to lightly singe the joint perched at his lips. Wonwoo then tilted his head back, blowing the cloud and its loose, airy curls straight into the sky’s deepest purples.

He loved being alone.

Even when his ex-girlfriend had moved in with him all those months ago, there was an unyielding part of him that hadn’t been ready to forfeit all his space and privacy.

But, over time, his love surmounted the sacrifice.

He would wake up to her sleeping face, and with thoughtful nudges, clear the hairs off her cheeks. He would spend an hour working on his homework or writing his story while waiting for her to stir so messily in the sheets that it became graceful. He would tease her with his cold hands as she boiled up tea in the kitchen, pinching at her hips with the utmost softness and giggling huskily into her neck when she would twist in the arms that bracketed her body against his chest. He would trap her between the counter, sunshine striking the room aglow in these nearly blinding seas of light, mouthing at her throat and tugging at her shorts and hitching his fingers so deep into her heat because all Wonwoo wanted to do was make her feel good.

Opening his eyes again, Wonwoo saw the stars rather than her face. The high was disseminating past his lungs and mingling with the pain that festered in his heart, concocting something that hurt so wonderfully, in all the right places, in all the right spots.

He was a fucking mess.

It wasn’t sustainable. But he didn’t care enough to fix himself.

 —APRIL 15TH.

Why did Wonwoo keep coming back to that café? The number of times he’d sat down with conviction that today would be fruitful—today, the eloquence would flow from his fingertips like perfectly pitched music notes and the symphony would read as beautiful and mellifluous as it sounded in his mind. Today, he was going to write.

Except, he accomplished nothing of the sort.

Repeatedly tapping his index finger against the space bar, he waited for the right adjective or phrase to leap out—to grasp him in a headlock even—whatever it took, Wonwoo was willing to sit there all afternoon until one fucking word conjured in the infinite blankness that was his imagination. He reached for his drink, only to take a sip of dry air that smelled like his earlier cocoa. Wonwoo realized the cup was empty. Had he wasted this much time already?

It pricked similarly to a bee sting. His passions felt impossible. A sigh upheaved from his chest and fingers curled into his hair, musing up the already disarrayed strands and slowly warping himself to look more and more like a mad scientist. Wonwoo removed his glasses and slumped back in the chair, rubbing at the reddish prints left on his nose. Writing had soaked itself in agony and he was going to remain in the storm of it until the bitter, ungratifying end.

‘Till death do us part.

 And then, something struck.

Though it wasn’t what Wonwoo had hoped for.

Literally—it was your hand hitting the glass of the café window, which had jerked Wonwoo out from his self-pitying.

He scrambled to fix his glasses back on, your face clarifying in an instant. You smiled at him with your glossed lips, and he didn’t like the nuance of your countenance one bit. Watching you enter the café was jarring and uncomfortable and his fist immediately clenched, his index nail picking at the ruined cuticle of his thumb. Two weeks ago—that was the last time you had spoken. At the SRX building.

“Hey!” You sounded friendly. “Can I sit here?”

“Well, uh—”

“Great, thank you.”

You pulled out the chair across from him, then set your bag delicately on the windowsill. Wonwoo watched with nervous, fluttering eyes as you smoothed out your cropped skirt before sitting down, ensuring it was tucked under yourself appropriately.

“How are you?”

Gulp.

“Fine.”

“Good. That’s really good. I’m glad.” Your nails drummed once against the table. “I actually didn’t plan on coming here, but I saw you as I was crossing the street, and I thought, ‘I should stop by and check in on him’ because, y’know, we haven’t been talking.”

Wonwoo furrowed his brow. “Do you always do that?”

“Do what?”

“Slap your hand against windows to get people’s attention.”

You swept something off the table with your palm, and this sunshine-like laugh turned your entire face to sweetness, but it wasn’t entirely earnest, and Wonwoo bit into his lip because you fucking terrified him. He caught your sparkling eye and wanted to melt.

“Did I scare you? I’m so sorry.”

“No, you’re good.”

“What are you working on?”

“A paper.”

Obviously, he was going to lie. Whether or not you could pick up on his lie was beyond Wonwoo’s control at that point. He didn’t know what you wanted, or why you were interrupting the flow of your very organized scheduling system to seemingly toy with him.

You didn’t respond to his paper comment. There was a thick silence between you despite the distant clattering of dishes, bubbling coffee machines, and conversations that coalesced into one big buzz.

Wonwoo bit the bullet.

“Something you want from me, yeah?”

“Not… exactly… I mean, after you left me at the SRX building, I wanted to get very angry about the whole situation. My day was terrible, and you responding to my idea with that sickly look on your face didn’t help. But I thought about it. You said no. I can’t ask anything more of you, y’know? I have to respect what you said.”

“Oh.” Wonwoo unclenched his fist, stretched out his long legs a bit more. “Yeah, sure. I get it. Thanks for understanding.”

“I just didn’t think my idea was that bad.”

“Well… no. It’s not bad. It’s not bad at all.”

A twitch to your lip suggested you didn’t believe him. Wanting to clear the air a bit, Wonwoo stopped slouching. He sat straighter and lowered the lid of his laptop, inviting the space between you.

His mouth opened, and then closed.

Fuck, just breathe you idiot—he cursed at himself.

You did that little head tilt thing, half-smiling at him, looking radiant underneath the café sunlight and so oddly patient with his tied-tongue that Wonwoo was miraculously able to find his words.

“There is nothing wrong with your idea. I made it seem like there was. I’m sorry. I just don’t want to help you write a romance story, for personal reasons that would be useless explaining. But you seem very confident in everything you do. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“Hm, well, thank you for believing in me. Romance can be a touchy subject—I didn’t think of that, and I get it… I guess I felt more insecure about your reaction because writing is the one thing I can’t ace. I do need help with my story, even if I don’t want it. Well, it’s just the truth, isn’t it? There are some things I can’t do!”

You chuckled at yourself, and Wonwoo thought it to be actually endearing. All your hard edges softened in that moment.

“So, I haven’t made any progress in my story, which sucks because I’m operating by deadline—” reaching into your bag, you unveiled a small, compact mirror, using it to remove something invisible from your eyelash, “—do you have any writer friends that would help me?”

Wonwoo scratched his nose.

“Uh, with the book?”

“Yes.”

“None.”

“What?” The mirror snapped shut as you gagged at him. “How do you have no writer friends? Isn’t that your major? Literature? Do you even have friends that aren’t Seokmin?”

“I’m a math major for fucks sake.”

“You’re fucking joking, Wonwoo. Please, tell me it’s a joke.”

He leaned back, folding his arms and propping an ankle onto his knee. You were still gaping at him, and he wanted to smirk.

“What’s wrong with math?”

“Nothing. Math is… math,” you gritted, shoving the mirror back into your expensive-looking, gold-buckled bag, “but why math? Why straight math? I thought you wanted to be a writer.”

“Man, Seokmin really didn’t tell you fucking anything, did he?” Wonwoo chuckled. Or, maybe you had only heard the things you wanted to hear, which was what Wonwoo assumed.

“Like I have space in my brain to remember the multiverse of information that constantly comes out of his mouth.”

“So what is there space for then?”

“You're toeing a dangerous line.”

“Well, I like math and writing.”

"And what kind of papers would you be required to work on as a math major? Did you stumble across some quintessential theorem that nobody else really cares about except for you and all the other pocket-protector wearers out there? Or is this a Good Will Hunting scenario? Even better—are you waiting for someone to walk by behind you and see all that really complicated mumbo-jumbo on your screen and think to themselves, 'woah, this guy is really smart. He's working on a paper with numbers, and I only work on papers with words. Where did I go wrong in my life?' so you can develop some sort of alternative complex that writing just isn't giving you?"

Wonwoo cocked his head at you, perplexed.

“What the absolute fuck are you talking about?” He felt a laugh in his chest, but he pushed it down. Wonwoo had never met anyone like you before. “You made up everything you just said.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“I go on tangents. It’s just something I do.”

“Damn. I can tell.” Wonwoo rubbed at the corner of his eye and slipped the ankle off his knee, further spreading his legs. “You like hearing the sound of your own voice, yeah?”

He always hated when people bothered him at the café, especially when he was trying to write. Today, it was different.

“Well, that’s true.” You beamed at him so matter-of-factly, like it was obvious. “The most beautiful sound in the world, isn’t it?”

“Mm.”

“Thought so. Ugh, I just can’t believe you have no writer friends to hook me up with.” He watched you slouch forward, slapping your arms across the table. “I’ll have to go wait outside Gildan Hall and start ambushing all the smart-looking literature majors.”

Wonwoo found himself examining your perfect nail polish.

“Good luck with that.”

“Can you at least try to sound more sympathetic?”

“You don’t seem like a person who appreciates sympathy.”

“Pft. According to who? I like being comforted when the time is right, and you’re not being very comforting.” You groaned into the table.

“You like being comforted?” He scoffed.

Your head popped up, and you were pouting. “At certain times, yes. Most times, no. It’s a complicated system. No one’s really cared enough to learn it except for Mingyu, and that was by force, and I think even he hates it. But I’m not asking for the moon. Just a reasonably sized chunk of it. I have to be worth something, right?”

“What’s life without someone catering to your every whim at the drop of a hat, huh?” He couldn’t help but mutter with sarcasm.

“Yes, exactly! See—you read my mind.”

Wonwoo bit his tongue.

“Ugh, now where’s my stupid phone?”

It was in your purse. Immediately, your eyes lit up.

“Jesus Christ. I’m gonna be late to my electrolysis!”

Like a burst of lightning, you shot up from your seat and quickly fixed the cream-white purse back over your shoulder. It reminded him of that time at the mall. One second you were engrained into a tangent, and the next you were scrambling about, attempting to recover the lost time in your meticulous schedule.

“If you think of anyone, please text me!”

Wonwoo nodded his head.

Now, there was a vacant seat before him, left slightly tugged from the table due to your hectic departure. For a moment, he just sighed, feeling the breath emerge from somewhere so deep in his chest that it ached. That was the thing about you—in a confusing turmoil, you managed to fill him up when he felt empty, but then empty him once he felt full.

He didn’t know what kind of person you were.

But there was an odd thrill to it that Wonwoo couldn’t articulate.

—APRIL 18TH.

Sat with Seokmin at the boy’s dining room table, Wonwoo popped a purple grape into his mouth while flipping a pencil between his fingers. The two had been staring plainly at their last problem from the math homework, but the question was horribly long, and his handwriting had morphed from legible penmanship to the most slurred hieroglyphics. Wonwoo wanted to dump a ramen packet into some boiling water and call it a night. He’d devoured a whole stem of grapes. His head was pounding and his stomach growled for a meal.

“Oh! You see—this is what gets me every time!” Seokmin exclaimed, leaned over his scattered papers, shoulders hunched with strain, “I mess up one multiplication in a matrix, and it screws me all up! Now I have to go over—uh! My fucking pencil just snapped.”

“Good,” Wonwoo mumbled, pressing a hand along the groove of his stiff neck, cracking it, “take it as a sign to give up.”

“We’re so close.”

Scooting the chair back to stretch his legs, Wonwoo then snatched his phone off the table. It was nearly ten at night.

“I’m hungry, and I don’t care anymore.”

Seokmin sighed, “are you going to eat now?”

“Yeah. Any ramen left?”

“It’s in the box sitting on top of the fridge. Soup broth is in the cupboard beside the microwave. I think there’s some eggs, too.”

Wonwoo easily grabbed the noodle packet off the fridge. He asked his friend if he wanted a bowl as well, and Seokmin agreed, abandoning their math homework after his defeating pencil-snapping incident. While they waited for the water to start bubbling over the stovetop, Seokmin had joined Wonwoo in the kitchen, though he leaned against the counter, holding his phone six inches or so from his face. Wonwoo had never seen anyone text that fast.

Gosh—he didn’t even need to ask who it was.

Noticing a few smudges on his glasses, Wonwoo lowered them down to the hem of shirt, beginning to massage the marks away.

“Our math final is the twenty-eighth, right?” Seokmin asked.

“Should be, yeah.”

“Thanks. If it’s on the twenty-eighth then I can definitely go.”

Wonwoo slid the glasses back onto his nose.

“Go to what?

Taptaptaptap—Seokmin’s fingers were practically electric.

“Uh, this thing that Her is having… at her parents’ house… like… a big dinner party… I’m helping her plan it… just need to make sure… I’m free those days… there! Okay, all settled.”

At last, Seokmin had clicked off his phone and slid the device back into the pocket on his sweatpants. Wonwoo folded his arms, staring at his friend with a deeply furrowed yet confused brow.

He sucked in a helpless breath.

“I don’t get you, Seokmin.”

“What—why?”

A few hot droplets of water had leapt from the pot, slightly scalding Wonwoo’s arm. He promptly ripped open the ramen packet and submerged the noodle brick, poking at it with chopsticks.

Wonwoo cleared his throat, “are you obsessed with her?”

Seokmin laughed, sounding astounded.

“No, I’m not obsessed. I’m just helping. We’re friends.”

“Right.”

“You don’t believe me?”

Setting the chopsticks beside the stove, Wonwoo turned around again, habitually crossing his arms low along the chest.

“I guess I don’t understand what you get out of that relationship.” He admitted. “Why can’t she do shit herself?”

“Ha!—That’s an interesting question.”

“You don’t want to talk about it?”

“No, it’s not that.” Seokmin lifted himself onto the kitchen counter, his head thumping back against the wooden cupboard. “I just wasn’t expecting you to ask that. And—I meant it’s interesting to see your interpretation of it. Like, my friendship with Her.”

Wonwoo nodded. He wasn’t going to coax anything out of his friend that he wasn’t already willing to say. In fact, Wonwoo had only begun talking to Seokmin back in the early, rainy days of September, since they ended up in the same discrete mathematics course and happened to choose seats right next to each other. Their bond had formed fairly quick, but they never really conversed about topics more intimate than school work and their own interests.

“I’m sorry,” Wonwoo said, “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, don’t apologize. I mean, I totally get why you’re curious.”

Seokmin glanced down at his knees, scratched his chin.

“Uh—well, what did you say, anyway? Why can’t her do shit herself? I mean, her life is super busy. Her mom’s a writer and editor for that popular fashion and beauty magazine you always see at all those glamour stores—Stunning Monthly—something like that. Her’s dad is this business tycoon guy. He works with my dad, actually. I’ve known Her since high school. Our families are close, so naturally we’ve spent a lot of time together. Her family picked up all their stuff and moved into Hillcrest on account of her dad needing to relocate for work.”

Wonwoo remained silent at the revelation, even though he was urged by curiosity to badger Seokmin with questions.

“But, uh—without all my non-essential rambling—the relationship with her parents is tumultuous. Who doesn't have a shaky relationship with their parents, though? A few lucky souls, probably. But they've set things up for her quite well, in my opinion. Her mom got her a job at the Milestone—that fancy beauty place down Bank Street? She has a makeup chair from time to time and works reception. She’s definitely gonna graduate Cum Laude with some big fancy scholarship. Not to mention the little power couple thing she’s got going on with Mingyu. She just tends to be…” Seokmin winced, massaging his shoulder, “she’s just a bit unpredictable. It would be way too easy for things to start falling all over the place. She’s a busy girl so I figure it’s nice to help her out. Keep things organized.”

Wonwoo bobbed his head, thinking.

“I guess I’m curious about the book thing. I mean, if everything is so perfectly laid out for her, and she’s so busy all the time…. why write a book? That takes months, extreme dedication, planning out the ass… it’s loving everything you’ve written and then hating it so atrociously… I don’t know,” he sighed, shrugging with confusion, “if I were her, writing a book would be the last thing on my mind.”

Folding his arms, Seokmin leaned back against the cupboards and agreed. “I know. But sometimes she just lurches onto random things out of nowhere. One year she practically turned her entire living room into a freakin’ art studio and I slipped on an open tube of paint on the floor—nearly popped out my tail bone. To be fair, her passion projects never last long. She never has the time, as you said… I know you’re not helping her anymore. She’ll probably drop it without help.”

“Really? Just like that?”

“Yeah,” Seokmin answered, smiling, “just like that.”

For some reason, Wonwoo gritted his teeth. He would hate for you to discard the feat so readily, just because he couldn’t pitch in as initially planned. Yes, writing was not always a fruitful cherry blossom tree and sometimes chalking down one sentence was equivalent to a month of effort and squeezing out all the creative fibres in one’s brain, but there was so much worth and occulted beauty to it at the same time. It was the art of expression.

Wonwoo thought it was quite cruel to deprive oneself of the ability to express and articulate things as they coursed through the fragile skin and the warm veins, and chiefly, the heart.

“Anyway, maybe I didn’t really answer your question,” Seokmin laughed, “but, y’know, don’t worry too much about turning down the book. You’re right. She’s got more important things to focus on, as I was telling her over and over, and—oh! Fuck, the ramen’s bubbling!”

Wonwoo quickly twisted around as the water began spilling over the edge and sizzling like fried meat. He lifted the pot off the piping hot, orange element, to which Seokmin joined him, twisting the stove dial to a much lower heat. Blowing at the white froth, Wonwoo waited a precautionary minute before returning the pot.

Once dinner was ready, they gathered back at the dining table, entwining the noodles with their chopsticks and hardly allowing a second for the ramen to cool before they were shovelling in burning mouthful after mouthful. The bite in Wonwoo’s stomach was gradually appeased. He soon felt warm, and full, and less tempered.

“Seokmin.”

“Hm?” His friend glanced up from his phone.

“So…” Wonwoo leaned back in the chair, his fist clenched. “I guess what—from what I understand—if I don’t help Her, or if she doesn’t find someone who can, then the book just won’t happen ”

At his observation, Seokmin nodded, seeming unbothered.

“Uh, yeah. Pretty much.”

“That’s sad.”

“Hey, you two just aren’t destined for each other,” he replied, slurping his noodles, “you were right back at the café.”

Picking up the white and blue patterned bowl, Wonwoo prepared to drink the broth, feeling the delicious heat fan back against his face. Once he finished eating and helping Seokmin with the dishes, he planned to catch a late-night bus back to his apartment above the quaint pottery shop. He didn’t know if he would sleep or not.

Maybe, however, that would give him time to rethink some choices, even if he shouldn’t trust the musings his brain happened to curate past nine at night. Especially any musings concerning you.

[ Wonwoo | 11:45 pm ]: Sorry to message you this late.

[ Wonwoo | 11:45 pm ]: I’ll keep it brief: I’ve given your book idea some thought, and if the offer still stands, I’d like to help you write it. Though, I understand if you want someone else’s help.

[ Wonwoo | 11:50 pm ]: Goodnight.

[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 6:35 am ]: AHHHHHHHHHHH

[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 6:35 am ]: good morninggg

[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 6:35 am ]: no that’s so perfect

[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 6:37 am ]: okay. OMG. there’s just so much we have to sort out. I’m trying not to overwhelm myself lol

[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 6:37 am ]: thank u for giving it more thought. I’m excited to plan everything and see u again ofc :)

[ Wonwoo | 12:55 pm ]: Likewise.

—APRIL 24TH.

Since last November, Wonwoo hadn’t invited many guests to his apartment—not even his older brother, who had never stepped foot into the building after Wonwoo originally signed the lease. Seokmin visited once or twice, but everything was curt, and while there had been one time that Vernon slept overnight on the couch, it was hardly notable.

Knowing that you were going to be at his apartment in a few hours was a very daunting thought. Consequently, Wonwoo had done something he hadn’t properly completed in months: clean.

It wasn’t like he just threw out the garbage and wiped down the kitchen counter either. He legitimately cleaned, picking over his apartment with a fine-tooth comb, not allowing one coffee cup or coaster to seem even vaguely incongruous. He fluffed out the couch pillows and vacuumed the floors. He went through his entire room, tidying up piles of clothes on the floor and aligning every book on his shelf. For the first time in months, Wonwoo threw open his heavy curtains, pure sunlight engulfing the space in such a bright glare that his eyes stung and he hardly recognized his own bedroom. Most importantly, he remembered to hide the pill bottle in his nightstand.

After all the anxiety-driven cleaning was done, Wonwoo collapsed onto the couch and stared plainly at the ceiling, the reality of what he just accomplished beginning to sink into his pores.

What the fuck?

He doubted you would care even microscopically if his apartment wasn’t perfectly swept and polished and artistic like a photo from an interior design catalogue. But at the same time, it would have been impossible for him to leave it alone. The burst of productivity undoubtedly left Wonwoo rather hot and sweaty, so he opted to take a shower before you arrived. Standing beneath the cool water and taking slow, languid breaths helped ease his nerves.

And, for the first time in what he imaged to be—months, Wonwoo dried himself off with this feeling that everything was okay.

Not good. Definitely not great. But okay.

While he buttoned up a pair of blue jeans, Wonwoo heard his phone ding from his desk. Reaching over, he tapped the screen.

[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 12:05 pm ]: hi, I’m almost there

His chest fucking lurched.

Roughly jerking open his drawer, Wonwoo pulled out the first shirt he saw, tugging the white long-sleeve over his head before he wiggled his feet into a fresh pair of socks. Once Wonwoo found his glasses, he sat on the edge of his bed with his phone.

[ Wonwoo | 12:08 pm ]: Okay.

[ Wonwoo | 12:08 pm ]: Would you like me to come down?

God—he felt like his stomach was going to collapse.

[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 12:08 pm ]: no that’s okay :)

[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 12:09 pm ]: it’s really pretty down here

[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 12:12 pm]: sorry I was looking at some of the pottery / painting stuff. it’s the staircase down the hall, right?

[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 12:12 pm ]: unit 102?

[ Wonwoo | 12:12 pm ]: Yes.

He reminded himself to breathe. Calm and slow and lifting the pressure that dug so bluntly into his lungs. The webs began to burn away. It had been a narrow escape, but it was successful.

[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 12:13 pm ]: heyy, I’m outside

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Wonwoo walked to the front door. His fingers brushed the knob in a flash of doubt, though his mind had already committed and now the door was pulled open and you were there, just as you said.

“Well, hello.”

He nodded at you, and then gestured for you to enter.

“Where should I take off my shoes?”

“There’s good,” Wonwoo answered, pointing to a textured mat in the corner that you proceeded to leave your simplistic heels on.

How absurd was this? Never in his life would Wonwoo imagine you at his apartment of all places—the one girl whom he adamantly tried to avoid because you were his gleaming opposite, and everything that you were, certain and in control, scared him. You were gazing around with your hands politely clasped together, ignited in the fulgurant sunlight, a small smile on your mouth.

“Wow, you’re very clean.”

Wonwoo stepped after you, maintaining a shy distance.

“It doesn’t normally look this neat,” he admitted, watching you readjust the strap of your tote bag, “I did clean for you.”

You turned to face him, and your laughter filled the space with a refreshing, long lost tone that made everything brighter. His fist clenched up anxiously and he knew his cheeks were pinkening.

“Um, cleaned or power-washed?”

He merely stared at you. Why couldn’t he fucking speak?

“Jeez, don’t look so afraid. I’m joking. And I obviously appreciate the effort.” You spun back around, continuing to walk past the coffee table and toward the kitchen. “It’s a lovely place, and it’s definitely got your personal touch. Oh—this is a cute mug.”

He breathed out, unfurling his hand and stretching his fingers until the air in his knuckles popped. You began wandering in the natural direction of the bedroom, and so Wonwoo followed, his eyes drifting up the jeans that hugged your legs and your sashaying hips, to back of your delicious-smelling hair. What was that scent, anyway?

Manuka honey?

But it was just a trivial glance, really.

Nothing meaningful.

“Is this your room?” You asked, stopping at the doorframe.

“It is.”

Biting your lip, you peaked inside and started to grin.

“Do you care if I go in?”

 “No.”

He tried not to crumble right there on the floor. Wonwoo’s room was his sanctuary, a fortress, something that barred out everyone but himself and granted him the freedom to do whatever he pleased (whether it was self-detrimental or not). The thought of others in his room was a gash in that perfect sanctuary, in which he could see the walls bleed out all their comfort and familiarity. His ex was the last person to be in his room, typically sprawled across the bed with a good novel in her hand.

It was a sour, sour reminder.

“Oh, and there’s the bookshelf,” you pointed out, “how fitting.” That penetrating gaze of yours roamed his desk and his bed and all his knickknacks in between. “Hey, why’s there a balcony outside?” You then asked, settling your hands onto the window frame and leaning out, the wind fluttering minimally through the layered curtains.

“Just a remodelling error,” Wonwoo explained, “it was supposed to be removed, I think. Never happened.”

Allured by curiosity, you leaned further out, examining the ladder that led up to the building’s roof. He looked at you again, specifically the arch in your back and the way your arms were planted so firm at the windowsill. He looked at the sunlight rippling on your cheek and your lips that appeared to sparkle, like you had kissed glitter.

“You definitely go up there, right?”

“Yeah.”

Half-shutting the window as to keep the breeze flowing, you chuckled. “I figured… so, I guess we should stop dawdling and get to the meat and potatoes. Is here a good spot? Or do you want to go back to the living room?”

“We’re in my room anyways,” Wonwoo commented, pulling out his desk chair and promptly sitting down, “so, why not.”

“Cool. Let me get my laptop.”

You slipped the tote bag off your arm and sat on the edge of his freshly made bed, being careful not to rumple the sheets.

“Okay!” Your hands echoed a series of soft claps. “I’m all ready now. I’ll try my best not to ramble—oh, and please, please don’t interrupt me until I’m done. I’m going to be very pissed if I lose my train of thought and I’d like this meeting to remain pleasant.”

Wonwoo nodded. “I know.”

You flashed him a brief smile.

“So, as you know, Mingyu and I’s fifth year anniversary is coming up in December. My gift to him is this so far nonexistent book. We’ve been through a lot as a couple, and as individuals, and I want the book to fully capture this journey we’ve been on and how much I… appreciate him. Also, I’m going to introduce a second, special element—” a hand plunged into your tote bag and suddenly a video camera was revealed, “—I want to record some of our brain sessions, and, like, our voyage of figuring this shit out. I like mementos. I hope that’s okay.”

“… Do I answer?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Then, yeah. I’m okay with it.”

“Secondlyyy—” you lilted while scrolling a little ways down the notepad on your laptop, the video camera stuffed back into your flower-and-honeybee-patterned tote, “—there are a few places we’ll need to visit—not the actual places that Mingyu and I went to since we grew up nowhere near here—but places that more so have a strong resemblance to the ones in my memory. I feel like it will help me with visual aspects of the writing. I’m a very visual person. Y’know, setting up the scene and technical things like that. I like touching and feeling and seeing and breathing everything in. I want all my senses on fire, basically. Like… the way your lips feel after eating insanely hot noodles.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

Wonwoo didn’t really care. He just agreed.

“Lastly, I want to make a schedule for us. So, I’m kindly asking you to set up a schedule of your own—work shifts, doctor’s appointments, tests—the like, so I can incorporate them into my own hectic life and make us one colourful, super writing schedule.”

And then, with a big, winded sigh, you shut your laptop.

“That’s it. Done. Thoughts?”

Honestly, the entire premise didn’t sound all that terrible. He had braced himself for the worst, but you were unsurprisingly organized and had pinpointed all your desires quite clearly. Of course, he knew it was going to be sheer hell—flames up to his knees and desert sun beating on his skin like a hot skillet frying butter. You were structured and dedicated and Wonwoo was none of those things.

No doubt, Wonwoo would have to learn to deal with you.

You would either be his trigger or his pulse.

But, even worse, you would have to learn to deal with him.

“I’m just following your lead on this,” Wonwoo announced, lacklustre of much interest, resting his hands against his stomach while he rotated back and forth in the swivel chair, “whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it. How soon do you want the schedule thing?”

“Like, as soon as possible.”

“Okay.”

“Do you really have no questions?”

Wonwoo scratched the side of his head.

“Uh, have you got anything written down yet?”

“Yes,” you propped open your laptop again, “an intro.”

“Oh, really?”

“Don’t question me. It was already difficult enough to write it, and I agonized over it for hours.” You pouted, slumping slightly.

He shifted up straighter in the desk chair.

“I’m sorry. I was just wondering. It’s good you started.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

Wonwoo tilted his head at you. “Do I get to read it?”

Your feet crossed and twirled together. He didn’t think you had any nervous ticks, but that was something easy to pick up on.

“Um, not yet. Not until we officially start.”

“Okay.” He answered with a gentle voice, noticing your swaying feet still again and a bit of rigidity dissipate from your body.

Well, he didn’t really know what to do at this point. Wonwoo suspected you were constrained by more tasks for today and your time with him was limited. It’s not that you were sitting in an awkward, stifling silence, but he would rather occupy himself with something rather than nothing, because nothing left his heart to race.

“Are you hungry?” He asked.

Glancing up from the laptop, you shook your head. “I ate before I came here.”

“Are you going to be leaving soon?”

At that, your face crinkled with laughter. “Sick of me already?”

Wonwoo crossed his arms. “No. Just asking.”

“Well, I have a wax appointment soon. I’ll be leaving in ten minutes or so.” Finally, you looked up, and your eyes clicked with his in a way that made the fine hairs along his neck prickle coolly. “Does that answer your question?” A subtle grin pulled at your soft lips.

“It does, yes.”

“You don’t like having people in your room, do you?”

He huffed at the observation and delved a hand through his black hair, feeling the dampness slide against his fingers. “Not particularly.”

“You should have just said that.” Rising off his bed, you closed the laptop and shoved it back into the tote bag.

Wonwoo’s entire chest jerked. It felt like a ten-story drop.

“Are you leaving?”

“Mm, I don’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not intruding.”

Why did his throat close up just then? Why did his vocal cords abruptly feel so coarse and tight? Why was his heart hammering? He didn’t mean to project the wrong impression. He didn’t hate you in his room. It just felt misplaced, and new. Like picking up a puzzle piece from the box and attempting to jam it into a different puzzle.

“It’s fine. Seriously. I should be early, anyway.”

Wonwoo stood up, realizing he needed to breathe. “Um… would you like me to walk you down?”

You stopped on your way out, faced him with a pretty smile.

“That’s okay.”

But then you did something rather strange; your hand sank into his firm upper arm and suddenly you were leaning into him, so carelessly close that he could feel the fanning, light warmth of your breath against his neck. Wonwoo’s head started to spin, and he thought a cloud had enveloped the room because his vision fuzzed.

“Sorry,” you took a step back, removing your hand, “you just smell really good. Like an ocean or something. It reminds me of this beach in Puta Cana. But your hair’s all damp and fluffy so that’s probably why. That was weird. I’m sorry.” Again, you laughed.

Why the fuck did you do that? He was almost angry. But not at you. At himself. For reacting in such a giddy, stupid way. Your touch and breath had burned him and there was this sharp, cutting flare inside Wonwoo that didn’t want to let you leave.

“All good…” he mumbled, sounding groggy and slow.

“I’ll see myself out then. Bye!”

And with a final chirp, you left, the front door closing in the distance while he could only stand there, shuddering and strangely hot and beyond confused. Wonwoo moved to swing the heavy curtains shut, the entire room succumbing into its usual shadiness. He sat on the edge of his very neat bed, removed his glasses, and buckled over while rubbing his veiny, pale hands through his hair.

The feeling was so lost and suppressed to his memory.

Wonwoo didn’t even know what it was.

He was relieved you were gone, but he also wished that you were still there, leaning out his open window with the wind and sunshine in your face. It was a sight so sweet and equally intimate.

Who are you?

What are you doing in his meaningless life?

—APRIL 28TH.

Wonwoo had finished his math final with half an hour to generously spare, and now, he was sitting, bored, sketching his pencil against the last page of the thick packet. The professor wouldn’t care.

Hopefully.

On one hand, Wonwoo knew he  should really just stand up and hand the damn thing in, but on the other hand, he hated—no, abhorred being the first person to return a test, especially an exam at that. Wonwoo was pretty smart. He knew that about himself and he never bothered to maintain the guise he wasn’t. Still, Wonwoo wasn’t pretentious. If he had to wait until the final fucking minute to hand the packet in, solely to avoid being the first student up, then so be it.

Besides, there wasn’t anything too pressing that required his immediate attention—minus the pertinent schedule he was supposed to make and have sent to you approximately three days ago. You had called him last night, to which the phone crackled with a loud, static bark of his name as you admonished him for his lateness.

“I told you three days ago I wanted the schedule! Three days! I can’t believe this. What’s so hard about making a schedule? Beep boop, you press some buttons on your laptop and it’s done. It would take ten minutes tops! Ugh, I’m so done with you, Wonwoo. In fact, don’t call me back—don’t even text me until you have the schedule!”

And then the line had collapsed, leaving Wonwoo to stare rather expressionlessly at his phone screen, the boy huffing out a breath of tendrilled smoke while he relaxed on the apartment roof. That had been his first experience sat on the receiving end of your seasoned quips, and it left him with this very profound emptiness, like his insides had been scooped out and the shell of his body was nothing but a wooden nesting doll. It had been such a long time since he genuinely cared about disappointing someone. Wonwoo had grown far too complacent with the feeling of disappointing himself.

That would never motivate him to do anything.

But you were different. In the sense that Wonwoo mostly remained proactive out of fear you might bite his head off.

From somewhere near the back of the room, Wonwoo heard chair legs scraping, and he eagerly flexed his fingers while observing a girl with the slickest ponytail he’d ever seen march past him to the professor’s desk. She set her packet down. He thanked her. She left.

Jesus Christ. Finally.

“All finished, Wonwoo?” His professor mumbled in a tone that hardly escaped his own lips, glancing up at the boy expectantly.

Pushing up his glasses, Wonwoo nodded.

“I suppose it’s harder for you to sit there and wait than it is to write the actual exam, isn’t it?” The professor noted with an almost undetectable smirk as he slid the test packet inside a tan-coloured folder, to which Wonwoo turned January cold.

“I don’t know.” Wonwoo shrugged, pretending to feel unbothered when in reality his skin was slithering like a snake pit at the thought of being even marginally perceived. “Maybe.”

“You have a good summer, alright?”

“Thanks. You too.”

Wonwoo swept a quick glance over the classroom right before he left, noticing that Seokmin was sat beside the wall, one hand tangled tight into his black, ruffled tresses as his pencil scribbled all over the paper like he was writing pure nonsense. He probably was.

And Wonwoo meant that in a nice-this isn’t really your sweet spot, but you’ll manage nonetheless-way. After leaving the classroom, Wonwoo thought he might go home and plunge head first into his oasis of bedsheets and flat, foam pillows that he loved so much, and permit himself to decay until it was physically impossible to lie down any longer. But he decided against it at the last minute, turning up at the café instead with his shoulder-strung book bag and the timely urge for a scone. He then sat down at his favourite table.

Pulled out his laptop.

Opened the document he was at incessant war with.

The last scene he’d written was breakfast.

“Uh, okay. Orange juice… or orange juice?”

“Did you say orange juice?”

“I did.”

“So… chocolate milk?”

“Ha! Funny... is there any sort of correlation between being a complete nerd and making such well-woven jokes?”

“Not sure. But I’ll get back to you when I find out… thanks. Your tea is sitting on the island, by the way.”

“Thank you, Won. Oh—you even put it in my Woodstock mug!”

“Yes, why are you so surprised that I remember?”

“Because it’s always hidden at the back of our cupboard, behind ten other mugs that we certainly don’t need and all our plates. I mean, I guess it’s my fault. Half of them are from my mom.”

“It’s sweet.”

“It takes up too much space. But I can’t tell her no.”

“That, you’ve got to work on.”

“The Christmas thing isn’t happening anymore, if that helps. I think the thought of having to cram all my family into our living room for a night was what motivated me the most. My mom said she’ll send us poinsettias instead. I think that’s way easier.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes. Believe it or not, I can assert myself. Sometimes.”

“No, no. I do believe you. I’m proud. Okay—bottoms up.”

“How’s the combination of venlafaxine and orange juice?”

“I don’t know. Juicy?”

“Better juicy than anxious?”

“You could say that.”

Right, back when Wonwoo actually had the willpower to make himself breakfast rather than slapping a mixed berry Poptart into the toaster or worse, nothing at all. Back when he could wake up before noon without feeling nauseous enough to curl into a ball and drape the sheets over his aching head. Back when he actually took his medicine. Her face beaming at him from across their table had always been like a glass of sunlight and citrus. She had been his own vitamin.

Wonwoo knew he wasn’t going to write. He was just going to stare and mope and ensnare himself in the pinwheel of memories that blew over him whenever he had the gall to reread his past literature.

The Woodstock mug. She’d taken that with her.  

He decided it was strange and sometimes irritating how love, broken or not, could suture itself into even the most mundane things. Orange juice was just that—juice—the carton he used to pick up and impetuously drop into his grocery cart every so often. Now, it wasn’t juice at all, but slow mornings, steaming tea kettles, and reading together on the couch with legs all tangled up until lunch time.

Now, Wonwoo couldn’t drink it at all.

Breaking the lemon raspberry scone in half, Wonwoo dropped a flaky piece into his mouth before it got too cold, and then proceeded to close the document. There was no way in hell he would write, and while he loved drowning in his own misery in order to snuff any glimpse of productivity more than the average individual, he thought it might be worthwhile to finally start that schedule.

[ Wonwoo | 8:20 pm ]: schedule.pdf

[ Her | 8:56 pm ]: thanks

[ Her | 8:56 pm ]: don’t piss me off again

—APRIL 30TH.

For an April morning, it was surprisingly bright. The sun was out in full and glistering warmth by the time Wonwoo stepped onto the sidewalk and began pacing down to the park, practically needing to squint the entire way. He almost hated it. Early mornings were not his friend, nor were the blades of light cutting across his glasses. But today was his first writing session with you and Wonwoo knew it was more than crucial that he was the furthest thing from tardy—it would be akin to willingly setting his hands inside a burning fire if not.

You agreed to meet at the park since it was roughly equal distance between Wonwoo’s apartment and some breakfast place you wanted to stop at. He thought it was uncharacteristically thoughtful of you to shoot him a text asking if he wanted anything, though Wonwoo declined nonetheless. It was damn near impossible for him to eat a bite of food until lunch time, hence his expression softening in confusion when he at last climbed into the passenger seat of your sleek silver car and was greeted by you passing him a cold tea.

“Am I… holding this for you?” He wondered, sitting still.

You shook your head. “No. It’s yours.”

“I didn’t ask for anything.”

“Yes, I realize that. I can read, thank you.”

Wonwoo wasn’t going to argue. He simply shut his mouth, clicked on his seatbelt, and set the tea into the cup holder. He then began looking around at your car’s interior. Everything was exceptionally clean and smelled sugary, like iced gingerbread.

The thing was, Wonwoo still wasn’t very sure how to talk to you, and most often there was the stiffest frog in his throat whenever he sat around you in silence for too long. Your thumbs were tapping against your phone at light speed. It reminded him of how Seokmin was texting you back at the boy’s apartment when they were studying for finals. Wonwoo couldn’t help but wonder if Seokmin was naturally more inclined to respond to you out of friendship or fear. Maybe even a pinch of both if that was possible. Another quiet minute passed by.

“Okay, fuck, sorry,” you suddenly spluttered at random, quickly slotting your phone into the GPS holder, “just some shit with my mom. Um, okay. Yeah. We can get going.”

“All good," Wonwoo answered.

“You know where we’re off to?”

“Vaguely. The track by Caldwell High School.”

He watched you flit him a smile. “That’s the place. I’ll explain more once we get there. And, by the way, I am expecting you to drink that tea. It’s not anything crazy. It’s oolong. Only a bit of caffeine.”

“I drink coffee, you know.”

“Yes, and it probably makes you jittery and insufferable.”

Wonwoo preferred not to comment.

The car ride wasn’t too long. Actually, Wonwoo did love a good car ride. He remembered the long trips he used to take with his family to the water park when he was a child, the sensation of the breeze blowing into his face and how different shades of green would scatter in through the windows as the sun hit the tree leaves like emeralds. There was something so limerent and sadly distant about the memory that Wonwoo felt his chest hurt. Even if he were to take that same road, and smell the same breeze, and see his skin glow with the same hues of the forest, he doubted it would feel the same.

His mouth had gone awfully dry. Wonwoo then reached for the cold tea sitting in the cup holder and took a sip, suddenly very appreciative that you had thought to get him something, anyway.

And while he couldn’t be too certain, Wonwoo wanted to think that maybe this would be a good memory, too.

After the half-hour long car ride, Wonwoo made sure to stretch when he stepped out into the empty parking lot. It was cloudier now, a bit more of a breeze to help counteract the warmth that remained in the air. You came around to join him, twisting out a cramp in your leg while adjusting the purse over your shoulder.

The walk to the track field wasn’t long, no more than a few minutes, and Wonwoo obediently trailed at your side until he witnessed the bleachers slowly coming into view. It resurfaced memories from his own high school days in PE, which Wonwoo had actually been quite successful at despite his distaste for sports and their atmosphere in general. He remembered liking kickball the best.

You sighed in a wistful tone while staring across the marked asphalt and fresh April grass. “All high school tracks look the same, don’t they?” Then, you carefully set your purse onto the bleachers.

Wonwoo rolled his shoulders, taking a more observant look around. It wasn’t strikingly different from the track at his high school.

“Sure. I guess.”

“I mean, there are some differences. We had ditches by our track. Come to think of it, I honestly believe they put them there for kids to hurl in from heat stroke or over-exertion… that’s what I did, anyway. It was right before I had to do triple jump. I hated it because you had to really build up speed. I didn’t want to run. So, even if I hadn’t thrown up from heat stroke, I probably would’ve made myself throw up some other way. Straight to the nurse. She gave me a popsicle.”

He glanced at you sideways. “Seriously?”

“Mmhm.”

“You’d rather throw up than hop, like, three times?”

“I said it was the running part I didn’t like.”

Wonwoo couldn’t imagine purposefully making himself upchuck in order to get out of something. If his anxiety was terrible enough, then he wouldn’t even have to worry about it, really.

That was its own mechanism of disaster.

“Running is eighty-percent of Activity Days," Wonwoo said.

You clicked your tongue at him. “Exactly. And I’d do anything to never run. I tried to sit in one time with the seventh graders. They were in their art block and they were doing painting under the trees; birdhouses or something. But their teacher kicked me out. And she didn’t even let me take the fucking birdhouse that I was painting.”

“The nerve,” Wonwoo answered, scratching his temple.

He proceeded to take a seat on the metal bench, rubbing his hands together. He still didn’t know how Mingyu fit into everything.

“So… what’s your plan, here?”

You sat next to him, folding one leg over your thigh and proceeding to reveal a journal that you had stuffed inside your expensive bag. The tips of your fingers skimmed through a few fluttering pages, until you stopped on one in particular that was ink-abused with cursive scribbles. Wonwoo assumed you did most of your planning on a laptop, hence his surprise to learn that you actually used a journal. He had a journal himself, though it hadn’t been touched in months. It mostly contained small poetic excerpts.

Next, you pulled out a pen.

“This is how I first ran into Mingyu. At my school’s track field. He was new and good at all the activities. I swear, his name spread like wildfire. Anyways, I haven’t figured out all the bits and bobs. I want to really soak in the feeling of—oh!” Suddenly, you grasped the journal back onto your lap, the pen hitting the paper in a cursive ribbon that Wonwoo could hardly read. “I just thought of a great line. His eyes, I wanted to soak in them, like an oasis.”

You stabbed the paper again to make a period.

“Not bad,” Wonwoo commented.

“Okay, here it is!” A black case was pulled from your purse, and once you unzipped it, Wonwoo realized it was the video camera that you had initially shown him at his apartment. “Okay, I want you to film some stuff. The field, obviously. I need it from different perspectives. It will help me with setting the scene later on.”

“Why do I have to film it?”

“Because, Seokmin told me you’re quite handy with film equipment stuff, and I don’t want to drop it. So just do it, please?”

Accepting the video camera from your hand, Wonwoo sighed in agreement. Flipping open the side-screen of the camera, Wonwoo began clicking some buttons and adjusting the focus. Luckily, he was familiar with the particular camcorder thanks to a film education course he’d taken outside of school.

While you busied yourself at the bleachers with starting up your laptop, Wonwoo began collecting footage, slowly panning the camera across the vast length of the gravel track and the grassy soccer fields situated beyond. He kept a concentrated eye on the side-screen to ensure the lighting wouldn’t change too drastically. A wind had picked up from over the forest, and he could see how the clouds were consequently being pushed along like herded sheep in the sky.

Once he brushed back the floppy, black hair that kept tickling his face, Wonwoo lowered the camera and turned to you.

“So, where else should I film?”

You were typing something, and didn’t bother looking up.

“Go across the field. Film from the other side.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“I have to go all the way over there?”

“Yes. Walk, crawl. Skip, hop. I don’t care. Just do it, please.”

“Jesus Christ,” he huffed out, feeling tired and yearning to go home, “I hate how seriously you’re taking this, y’know that?”

Your fingers continued blitzing against the keyboard.

“Nobody likes a complainer.”

Ironic, he thought, but obviously kept to himself.

There wasn’t a point in expecting any sympathy from you—that, he already knew—which engendered Wonwoo’s long, trudging walk from one side of the track to the other, the wind irritably blowing his grown-out locks over his glasses every time he attempted sweeping them back. Hoisting the camera back up, Wonwoo adjusted the side-screen and began his same ritual of steadily panning the camera along the landscape.

You appeared in the view, still sat on the bleachers, though nothing about your face or figure was too discernible. It felt like you were a background character in a painting, just a little glob of acrylic.

“All done?”

Finally, you had glanced up at him with a smile.

Wonwoo nodded. “Unless you need anything else filmed?”

“No, that should be enough. The track is most important.”

“Right.”

He tried giving back the camera.

“Actually, do you mind keeping it?”

“Um, okay. But how will you look at the footage?

“Dropbox. We’ll share one. Upload the clips there.”

Wonwoo plopped himself back down on the bench, fitting the camcorder into its black case. He pulled the zipper along the seam.

“How much longer do we need to be here?”

“Not that much. Just let me finish this paragraph.”

There was a dull pain throbbing at the front of his skull, edging down to his temples—across his nose bridge where his glasses pressed in more tightly than usual. He closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled a deep breath, trying to escape the feeling, the nausea, the chills that were beginning to seep up his neck as the wind blew turbulently against him. It would be embarrassing if this happened here, right in front of you. The hard lump had suddenly lurched forward in Wonwoo’s throat but he leaned his head down last minute and swallowed it despite the roughness. No, everything was okay.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Wonwoo opened his eyes, staring down at the trembling hands buried in his lap. Subtly, he pulled the sleeves of his cardigan over them. He assumed his face was reflecting a sheer, sickly opacity.

“Nothing.”

“Uh, sure. Now look me in the eyes and say that.”

Again, Wonwoo swallowed, but he managed nonetheless.

“Nothing’s wrong. I get headaches sometimes. That’s all.”

“… Oh. Well, I’m basically done here. I was gonna ask if you wanted to walk a lap around the track with me, but maybe we should just go home. I mean, how bad is it? Your headache?”

Yes, yes. Home. Wonwoo wanted to go home. He had only been away from his apartment for a solid two hours, and yet all his mind and body’s energy had completely drained. He felt dried out, withered, fragile as tempered glass. Going home sounded cosmic. 

“It’s getting better. I wouldn’t mind walking with you.”

“Oh! Cool. If it gets really bad, just tell me.” You then spent a minute collecting your belongings back into the cream purse.

Wonwoo immediately looked the other way, dragging a frustrated hand through his hair, mouthing a string of guttural curse words directed at his discombobulated head. Because what the hell was he doing? All his relief and peace had just suckled itself down an invisible drain. Why on earth did he agree? Why?

“I think this will help me, too," you said, having left the shiny bleachers behind, instead kicking the pebbles at your feet, “if we walk the entire track, then it’s like we did the four-hundred meter.”

“You’re supposed to run the four-hundred meter.”

“Well, I know that.”

“I’m surprised you hate running. I mean, you walk so fucking quickly sometimes.”

He heard you snort, clearly amused by his observation.

“It’s because I’ve mastered the art of sashaying. To have a perfect sashay, you can’t walk too slow, but you also can’t walk too fast. It’s like a strut. You need to have confidence while you do it. It lets people know that you’re serious and professional. I’m not dragging my feet, but I’m also not in a rush. It’s the perfect pace.”

Wonwoo sniffled and scrunched the glasses up his nose, continuing alongside you at a pace that was rather aimless.

“I didn’t realize there was a science behind sashaying.”

“Now you know,” you declared.

Wonwoo’s  upper lip quirked slightly, and a small grin appeared on his face, which was starting to dapple with colour.

“I don’t sashay, do I?”

At that, you laughed, “no, you amble.”

“Yeah, I’m an ambler… which basically means I’m an unmotivated, pointless person who will probably go nowhere in life.”

For a moment, you stopped walking, and you merely furrowed your brow at him while your forehead creased with thought. Wonwoo stopped as well. He raked back his fluttering, windswept hair and smirked, flashing his teeth. The behaviour was uncharacteristically snide and a bit of a dig at your bluntness, but he couldn’t help it.

“Don’t remember, huh?”

“No… but it sounds familiar.”

“You told me that, the day I met you—that people who walk slowly are unmotivated and pointless. Their life is a waste, basically.”

He noticed your eyes shift up toward the right, as though you were pulling the memory forward from the intricate files of your brain. And then you started to smile, and it made Wonwoo smile, too.

“Oh, I do believe I said that.” You started walking again, and he followed. “Ha! Wow, you’re right. I said that. I’m so funny. I mean, I was right. You only walk slow when you have nowhere to be.”

“I did have somewhere to be. I was going to meet you.”

“Well, then you just didn’t care.” He felt your elbow press shallowly into his rib. “See what I mean? Unmotivated and pointless. And, honestly, I would have taken your apathy as more of an insult if it wasn’t for the fact that you seem to treat most things like that.”

“So, I’m just supposed to accept that you’re calling me a loser? How do people normally react when you say things like that?”

“Things like what? They’re just my observations about the world. You are a person in this world. I was making an observation about you. Albeit, it came across strongly. But I don’t know. No one ever cared about being gentle or sugar-coating with me. Gives you tough skin, y’know? Metaphorically, of course! I always moisturize.”

 Wonwoo scoffed, smiling at your nonchalance. “The way you word things is honestly fascinating.”

“Psh. How do you even remember that?”

“I don’t know. Doesn’t seem that hard to remember. It was a pretty memorable, somewhat awful experience, to be fair.”

“Awful?” You retaliated in unprecedented disbelief, pushing into his arm until he allowed his tall frame to stumble. “Try again.”

“Interesting?” Wonwoo substituted, his heart thumping. 

Your eyes were narrowed at him, glimmering with a sharpness that made his fingers clench into anxious fists.

“… That’s a little better.”

He exhaled a soft breath of relief.

As you began nearing the full circle, Wonwoo realized his head had eased from its horrible aching and the chills dampening down his neck were gone. Everything didn’t feel as awful compared to before. He was still tired, and his energy was sputtering in tiny, dying sparks, but at least his desire to crawl under the earth and degrade to his bare bones had subsided into something less morose.

“I heard you were having a get together next week,” Wonwoo decided to ask, rounding the last bend in the track.

“Oh, the dinner party?”

“Yeah. Seokmin’s helping you plan it, right?”

“He is. Which I appreciate. My mom is usually the one in charge of everything, and she loathes it. But, I mean, when we try to help her, she just ends up fretting even more—says we’re basically getting in the way and ruining it. I don’t know. She’s such a snappy perfectionist. Seokmin can have fun dealing with that.”

Wonwoo almost made a thoughtless comment in response to your story—he’s probably had eons of practice with you—though the pieces connected just in time and his mouth sealed shut.

“Your dad can’t help either?” He questioned instead.

“Ha! No way. My dad helping is a recipe for fucking disaster if I’ve ever seen it. He’s painfully bad at decorating, can hardly be trusted to cook or invite anyone from the guest list. The most my mom allows him to do is set the table.” You then scoffed, shooting a pebble forward with the tip of your shoe. “I swear, he knows exactly how to push my mom’s buttons. The faster he does it, the quicker she kicks him out and he’s absolved of all chores. What a cheat, huh?”

“Hm, yeah… is Mingyu going?”

“Of course.” You smiled. “He always goes.”

At that point, you had circled back to the bleachers. Adjusting the bag strewn over your shoulder, you heaved out a longing sigh.

“Well, that’s four-hundred meters in the books.”

“Is it everything you hoped and dreamed it would be?”

You cackled, “not even close. I think I was right to avoid it.”

—MAY 3RD.

Wonwoo slid his pharmacy badge through the time-machine until he heard the beep. After an eight-hour shift, he was hungry and tired, but Wonwoo also knew the second that he got home, his urge to eat and desire to sleep would be gone. Instead, he would spend his midnight staring up at the ceiling, thinking. About anything and everything, and nothing at all. When the first cracks of dawn light would spill in from under his curtain, then he would close his eyes.

It was all very typical.

He stood outside the store, phone in hand, waiting for Vernon to pick him up because Wonwoo hadn’t felt like walking home despite the softness of the nighttime wind and the alabaster moon’s shining ambiance. The mirage was pretty and he enjoyed it, but his feet were too sore to inch him another step. Luckily, Vernon didn’t take long.

Luckily, he was the only one of Wonwoo’s few friends with a sleep schedule just as horridly fucked up as his. It was eleven at night, but on a weekday? The dead, empty street testified for him.

“Heyy, Glasses,” Vernon sang in his throaty voice as Wonwoo climbed into the passenger seat, “you look like a prostitute standin’ there, waitin’ for me to come get your ass. But a sophisticated one.”

The interior didn’t smell heavily of weed, he noted. Thank fucking god, Vernon had finally paid someone to dry clean it. Either that, or he took the initiative into his own hands.

“I highly doubt you have ever seen a prostitute in your entire life. And the fact you think they’d be standing outside a pharmacy at one of the quietest parts on this block attests to that.”

“God, I hate when you get all technical n’ shit. Such a stiff.”

“I’m tired.”

“Yeah, well. You’re always tired. N’ for the record, I have seen a prostitute, outside Room 319. It was a week before Christmas; she had this huge coat on, walkin’ up to people in her pink heels and this crazy eyeshadow that made her eyes pop. I bet she’s a nice girl.”

“Mhm. I bet she was.”

“Oh, you’re a cunt, yeah? You don’t believe me.”

“Does it matter?”

“I’ll take you one day. Room 319’s got a table with your name on it. They’ve got this one shot, the Stabilizer— it’ll put you down like a fuckin’ sick dog but it gets you the best drunk of your life. Maybe we’ll even run into Pink Heels lady. She’s our Halley’s Comet.”

“Halley’s Comet only comes once every seventy-five years. “

“You know what the fuck I meant.”

“Not interested.”

Vernon blinked at him for a moment in the dull light, and then he sighed, forfeiting. He placed the tip of the key in the ignition, but he quickly removed it as though he remembered something.

“Wait, I’ve gotta ask—how’s it going with Her?”

Biting down on the inside of his cheek, Wonwoo reached for the seatbelt and pulled it slowly across his chest, debating how intelligent of an idea it would be to entertain Vernon’s curiosity. But he could also understand the allure. You were like this enigmatic myth that people craved to know about, even if it frightened them.

Wonwoo’s head collapsed back against the seat.

“It’s going well.”

Vernon spat out a boisterous laugh, a hand slapping down on his knee. “Jesus Christ. You’re so dry, man. That’s it?”

“I mean, it’s true. We’ve started the book. Or, she has.”

“Okay, and?” Vernon attempted to engage him further.

“And, what?”

“What’s she like, obviously? Is she actually a fuckin’ psychopath? Is she normal? Can she walk on her hands? I dunno!”

Wonwoo rubbed underneath his glasses. He didn’t really want to talk about you when you weren’t there. It felt like a Bloody Mary situation, where you’d magically conjure in the backseat to sinch your cold hands around his neck and wrangle him limp and lifeless. But then there were Vernon’s shimmeringly prying eyes that just wouldn’t stop burning Wonwoo no matter how hard he bit his tongue.

“I have nothing to say. She’s cool.”

“Oh my fuckin’ God.” Vernon slacked back into his seat, clutching at his steering wheel. “You just don’t wanna talk about it… oh! Shit. I just remembered. She’s having a dinner party tonight, isn’t she? In Hill Crest. Or as I like to call it, Rich People Neighbourhood.”

“Yeah, that’s where her parents live… how do you know that?”

“Shit!” Vernon immediately shuffled up in his seat and delivered a hard smack into Wonwoo’s shoulder. “We should drive down and check it out! Right fuckin’ now!” He was lit up with excitement, even though Wonwoo considered it a terrible idea.

“No. Absolutely not. And answer my question.”

“Was sittin’ behind Seokmin at Solar Pop, he talks really loud, happened to overhear some things—doesn’t matter. I think we should go! C’mon, allow some spontaneity into your life! Why not?”

“What the fuck do you mean, why? It’s a family party. With some close friends, which—in case you haven’t noticed—neither of us are. You can’t fucking crash a family dinner party. Who does that? Not to mention the fact that it's eleven at night. They're probably washing up. Sending people home. By the time we get there, it's lights out."

“Aren’t you her friend?”

“No. I’m just someone who’s doing her a favour.”

“Favours are from friends.”

“We’re. Not. Friends.”

“Okay—fuck, Glasses. Fine. We won’t crash the stupid dinner party. But don’t you wanna go for a drive or something? I’m tellin’ you, the houses are insane. Last time I went down there, it was for a big fuckin’ party some dude at your university threw. I think I ran this by you already, when I talked about tryin’ to chat up Her. I stopped by with my old friend—y’know, Dots, the guy that died from the overdose and everything. That party was crazy. It was in a mansion.”

“Vernon,” Wonwoo had just finished massaging the throbs at his warm temples, “we are not going to Hill Crest.”

His friend swung his head in disapproval, making a tsking sound with his teeth. “Such a fuckin’ stiff.” He started the car. “It’s the fact I know you have jack shit to do tonight, or tomorrow.”

“I’m not gonna do some stalker drive-by on her house.”

“You don’t wanna do Room 319. You don’t wanna judge a bunch of richies sittin’ up in their ivory towers. I mean, it’s not like we’re eggin’ them or spray painting fuckin’ curse words on their eight-door garages. What do you wanna do?”

Wonwoo rolled down the window and leaned his face toward the moonlight, to which he could feel the wind brush up against his skin in feathery strokes, as though it were caressing him. He knew that Vernon meant in a general sense rather than in the heat of the moment. But in a general sense, Wonwoo would rather not be anywhere at all. He would rather do nothing, or even exist.

“Can you just take me home? Please?”

Vernon exhaled a defeated gust of breath and began to angle his tires away from the curb, the pharmacy lights pulled behind them.

“Yeah, ‘course. Mr. Boring.”

—01:49

Wonwoo hadn’t been able to fall asleep since Vernon dropped him off a couple hours ago. He’d anticipated that. Usually, Wonwoo wouldn’t do anything. He wouldn’t toss or turn, or pace circles around his bedroom, or count down from one-hundred, because even if he did, none of it would work. His mind would still be wide awake.

Hence Wonwoo’s decision to grab his phone. Staring at a lurid screen definitely wasn’t going to help, though he wasn’t trying to sleep, anyway. That conversation with Vernon was repeating in his head like a chattering bird, pushing him, pushing him, pushing him to find your Instagram and dig into your pictures because now Wonwoo was thinking of your dinner party and how vehemently you seemed to hate it. He saw that you had posted something quite recently, around the same time Wonwoo had left the pharmacy.

For a moment, his thumb hovered over the post.

He didn’t want to press it because he didn’t care.

Or, maybe he did.

There were multiple pictures in the set, and Wonwoo flicked through all of them. Some were of food, close-ups of your jewelry—you even included a picture with Seokmin. But then Wonwoo had settled on the last photo and something in his stomach convulsed.

He recognized the dress like a flash of light—the sapphire one with the glimmering detail that you had modelled for him at the expensive boutique in the mall. Of course, that arm hanging cheekily low around your hip belonged to your boyfriend, Mingyu. He had a champagne glass pressed to his lips, fitted in his black suit with his hair neatly combed and styled into place. The smugness in his face was stifling. Wonwoo rolled onto his stomach, his eyes refusing to drift from the picture for even an instant. He just kept staring.

Staring and thinking. Staring and thinking.

One minute spent staring at your smile.

The next minute at the low placement of Mingyu’s hand.

Another minute staring at your sparkling dress.

The next minute at Mingyu’s brutally cocky expression.

He would switch back and forth.

But Wonwoo didn’t really care. He was just bored.

And alone with his thoughts.

—END OF PART PART ONE.

NOTE! while i truly cherish & adore all comments, pls refrain from remarks such as "pls post part x" "i need part x" "when are you posting part x" while i do understand the sentiment, i find these comments very dismissive & kinda disrespectful! i don't prefer to post series fics and so i don't receive these often, but pls note that if you comment this i will delete the comment!

the fic itself is completely done, so all i have to do is get the parts ready for posting. however, bc this is the first part, i don't have a set posting schedule just yet. i think it will depend on roughly how long those who read the fic take to finish it! but i will be sure to make a post about it or include the schedule in part two once i figure it out!

again, thank u so much your ur patience :3

much luv!! 💕

[itneverendshere]

hi again! so I've been meaning to send a request, but before i go about it I wish to say it's completely okay if you're not inspired by this, or if you simply don't want to write it, i would hate myself if I made you overwhelmed or smth. love you anyways 💕 so for the request: reader who's autistic. she's not very talkative nor socially active, never had a boyfriend, has one or two friends, yet somehow rafe notices her and finds her endearing. she's okay being herself with her friends, like she's funny, kind and passionate about her interests (like geek stuff, fantasy books, animals and such). she has zero flirting experience and is always dismissive towards rafe bc she doesn't think someone could like her romantically, and she's always suspicious of people bc they've wronged her in the past (in my experience as an autistic person i tend to believe everything ppl say and am kinda naive, so ppl played me or said unrealistic things and I believed them, which then is a reason for laughter, now I'm always suspicious to ppl's intentions). I'm giving you creative freedom with this, just wanted an autistic reader for once :) if you feel like writing it but need to know more abt autism, you can just post question and I'll answer in your asks, if that's okay. Just a reminder again before I go: feel free to decline this request, I know it might not be something cool to write and that's okay ☺️ love you lots, thank you for your time!

i tried my best, hope you like it 🫶🏼 and if you don't lmk so i can do better!! this was really fun since it's a compeltely new topic of inspiration. kinda left an "open" ending bc i couldn't make my mind up lmao. thank you for the resquest and sorry it took me a while to finally do it 🫂

got dreams but i can't make myself believe them - r.c

paring: rafe x autistic!reader word count: 6.9k

The party was a mistake. You knew it the moment you walked in, the thumping music and crush of people making your skin crawl. Your friends had been relentless, insisting that you needed to “get out more” and “live a little,” despite your repeated attempts to explain that “getting out” meant something different to you.

But somehow, you’d caved, and now you were standing awkwardly in the corner of a stranger’s living room, clutching your book like it was a life vest. You needed to stop letting them drag you everywhere.

It was the typical college party scene, at least the one's you'd heard or read about before. Red solo cups everywhere, groups of people huddled on couches or pressed together on the so called dance floor, and a few already-drunk guys yelling loudly in the kitchen.

This was supposed to be fun?

“Just stay for an hour,” they said. “If it’s really that bad, you can leave.”

Right. Except an hour felt like an eternity when you were trapped in a sensory nightmare. You took a deep breath, scanning the crowded room. There were people everywhere—laughing, dancing, chattering loudly in clumps—and the noise was a constant, overwhelming buzz in your ears.

This was definitely a mistake.

So, you did what you always did in these situations: you found a place to hide. After walking through the drunk college students, you eventually ended up on quiet nook near the back of the house. It was a small room, probably some sort of den or study. Blessedly, it was empty. With a sigh of relief, you settled into an oversized armchair, opened your book, and let the world outside your pages melt away.

Time slipped by as you read, the noise of the party changing into a distant hum. You were so engrossed that you didn’t even notice when someone stumbled into the room until a loud crash jolted you out of your fictional word. He nearly tripped over his own feet, catching himself at the last second with a slurred, “Shit.”

You looked up to find a guy standing unsteadily in the doorway, blinking blearily at you. He was tall, with tousled hair and a loose, easy grin that spoke of far too many drinks. His eyes were a striking blue even in the low light, and it took you a second to place him.

Rafe Cameron.

Oh, God. You knew him—well, of him, at least. He was in your sociology class, always sitting a few rows behind you with his gaggle of equally charming friends. He’d never spoken to you before, though, and you’d never had a reason to pay him much attention.

Until now.

Then his face split into a lazy grin, and he swaggered—no, stumbled—into the room, somehow managing to make even that look effortless.

“Heyyy,” he drawled, leaning heavily against the arm of the chair across from you. “It’s… it’s you.”

You blinked at him. “Me?”

“Yeah,” he slurred, squinting like he was trying to see you clearly. “T-The girl from my class. The quiet one.”

Your stomach did a weird flip, part confusion, part disbelief. “Okay?”

“Yeah.” He nodded sagely, as if you’d just confirmed some great truth. “You’re the uh, the smart one. With the books.” He gestured vaguely at the one in your hands. “Always sittin’ up front, all… all cute n'shit.”

Your cheeks burned. Was he seriously calling you cute? No. He was drunk—really drunk. He probably didn’t even know what he was saying.

“Do you need help?” you asked cautiously. “You look—”

“I’m fine,” he cut you off, straightening up as if to prove it, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the way he swayed on his feet. “Needed to get away from those idiots out there. Too many people.”

You almost laughed. Rafe Cameron, overwhelmed by people? The guy who was always surrounded by friends, girls practically draped over him like accessories? But he looked sincere—well, as sincere as a drunk person could look.

“Why don’t you sit down?” you suggested, gesturing to the empty chair. “You, um, might fall over if you don’t.”

“Pfft, I’m not gonna—” He paused mid-sentence, wobbling precariously. Then, as if he’d just made the smartest decision of his life, he plopped down in the chair, sprawling out like he owned the place.

“See? Told ya m'fine,” he said, flashing you a lopsided grin.

You couldn’t help but snort. “Right.”

He looked at you then, really looked at you, his gaze roaming over your face “What’re you doin’ here?” he asked abruptly.

You glanced at your book, then back at him. "Reading?”

“No, I mean… here,” he insisted, gesturing vaguely around the room. “At this shitty party.”

You shrugged, feeling awkward. “My friends dragged me. I didn’t really want to come.”

Rafe’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully, and for a moment, he looked almost sober. “Yeah, same.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

He smirked, a flash of the cocky, arrogant guy you’d seen in class. “Yeah, well… they’re fucking assholes, but they’re my assholes, y'know?”

You didn’t, but you nodded anyway. “Sure.”

“So, what’s that book about?”

You hesitated. “Um… it’s a fantasy novel.”

“Fantasy, huh?” He tilted his head, eyeing the cover. “Like wizards and dragons n'shit?”

“Sort of,” you admitted. “It’s about a girl who finds out she has magic and goes on a quest to—”

“Save the world?” he finished with a mock-solemn expression.

“...Yeah,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “But it’s more complicated than that.”

“Bet it is,” he murmured, his gaze still fixed on you. “You’re really into that stuff, huh?”

You shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah. Why?”

He shrugged, his smirk softening into something that almost looked like genuine interest. “You looked happy, talkin’ about it.”

Your heart did another weird little flip, and you frowned, pushing the feeling down. He was drunk. This didn’t mean anything. He probably wouldn’t even remember it in the morning.

But then, his eyes drifted shut, his head lolling back against the chair. Within seconds, he was snoring. You sat there, stunned.

What the hell had just happened?

Three days later, you were sitting in your usual spot in the lecture hall, flipping through your notes. Class was about to start, and the room was filling up with the usual pre-lecture chatter. You were just getting settled when someone slid into the seat beside you.

You glanced up, expecting one of your friends. But it wasn’t.

It was Rafe.

“Hey, friend,” he said casually, like you hadn’t left him passed out at a party a few nights ago.

You stared at him, completely disoriented. “Hi?”

He grinned, leaning back in his chair like this was completely normal. “Didn’t think I’d forget about you, huh?”

Your eyes narrowed. “I… yeah, actually.”

Rafe’s grin widened, and he leaned in closer, “See, that’s where you’re wrong, princess,” he murmured. “I remember everything.”

Did he just give you a nickname?

Your stomach dropped. “What?”

“Yeah.” He crossed his arms, looking entirely too smug. “You, sitting there all cute with your book, talking about magic and shit. Thought I was too drunk to remember, huh?”

“I—” You stared at him, completely off balance. “Why are you here?”

“Because I want to be,” he said simply. “Got a problem with that?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “No?”

“Good.” He flashed you a grin, all cocky charm. “So, you gonna tell me more about that book, or what?”

You gaped at him. “You actually want to hear about it?”

“Why not?” he shot back, raising an eyebrow. “It made you smile.”

And for some reason, that simple statement knocked the breath out of you.

“Okay,” you said, still unsure if this was some kind of elaborate prank.

But Rafe just leaned back in his seat, eyes fixed on you like you were the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I think I’ll stick around.”

The next few classes were…weird, to say the least. Ever since Rafe decided you were his new "friend," he’d taken to sitting beside you every lecture, plopping down in the empty seat as if he’d been there all along. It was confusing. Most of the time, he’d breeze in at the last possible minute, sauntering up to your row without so much as a greeting and settling into the chair with that infuriatingly self-assured smirk.

You were already seated, your notebook open and your pen poised to start taking notes when he dropped into the seat beside you with his usual nonchalance. He stretched his long legs out in front of him, casting you a sidelong look as if daring you to acknowledge him first.

“Hi,” you said quietly, eyes flicking back to the front of the room.

“Hey, princess,” he replied, voice low and teasing.

You kept your gaze firmly on your notebook. You’d quickly learned that the best way to deal with him was to pretend his presence didn’t affect you—no matter how much his proximity messed with you.

He’d spent the last three classes nudging your foot under the desk, passing snide comments under his breath, or leaning over just close enough to murmur sarcastic observations about whatever the professor was droning on about. And today was no different.

The lecture started, Professor Callahan launching into her usual detailed overview of sociological theory. You tried to focus, pen flying across your notebook as you jotted down her points.

“Is she always this boring?” he whispered, leaning in slightly so his arm brushed against yours.

You stiffened, eyes fixed on your notes. “If you listened, it wouldn’t be so boring.”

He snorted. “Yeah, right. Like I’m gonna waste my time listening to her go on about… what is it today? Class structure?”

“Yes,” you hissed, refusing to look at him. “And if you don’t stop talking, I’m going to—”

“You’re going to what?” he challenged, his grin audible in his voice.

You snapped your mouth shut, trying to ignore the way his leg brushed against yours under the desk. He was doing it on purpose—nudging your knee every so often, shifting just a little closer until the faint scent of his cologne surrounded you. It was infuriating. And yet, when you glanced sideways at him, he was looking at you with that maddening, lazy grin that made your heart stutter.

“Just pay attention,” you mumbled, cheeks warm.

“Why would I do that when I have such a pretty view right here?”

Your head whipped around, eyes wide. “What?”

But Rafe just smirked, his gaze drifting lazily up and down your face before flicking back to the front of the room as if he hadn’t just made your brain short-circuit. 

“Relax, princess. Just messin' with you.”

You swallowed, trying to refocus on the lecture. His attention was like a physical thing—intense and all-consuming. It made you uneasy. 

Determined not to give him the satisfaction, you forced yourself to look at the professor, tuning out the heat of Rafe’s gaze. Professor Callahan was in the middle of explaining something about social hierarchies when she suddenly stopped mid-sentence.

“Mr. Cameron.”

The entire class fell silent.

You looked up, eyes widening in surprise as Professor Callahan fixed Rafe with a stern look. “I’m aware that I’m not as pretty as your classmate,” she said dryly, gesturing toward you, “but I would appreciate it if you could pay attention for at least ten minutes.”

A ripple of snickers spread through the room, and your cheeks flamed scarlet. Rafe, however, didn’t even blink, he was completely unruffled and offered the professor a lazy, arrogant smile. “Sorry, Professor. Just got a little distracted.”

Your stomach dropped. He was staring at you, unabashedly.

The professor raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure.” Her tone was dry, unimpressed. “Would you mind keeping your distractions to yourself until after class?”

Another murmur of laughter swept through the room, and you shrank in your seat, mortified. His smirk widened, but he leaned back in his chair, raising his hands in mock surrender.

“Of course, ma’am,” he drawled. “No more distractions.”

Professor Callahan gave him a pointed look, then turned back to the board, resuming her lecture. You sat there, face burning, refusing to look anywhere near Rafe, but you could feel his eyes on you.

“Guess I got you in trouble, huh?” he whispered, leaning closer.

You grit your teeth, still staring resolutely at the front of the room. “Stop talking.”

“Can’t help it,” he murmured, his voice teasing. “You’re way more interesting than this shit.”

“Rafe, I swear—”

“Okay, okay, I’ll behave,” he said lightly, sitting back. But he didn’t take his eyes off you. You could feel him lingering, warm and intent, and you wanted to scream. How was he so calm? So unaffected, like getting called out by the professor was just a minor inconvenience?

You hated every second of it.

“Rafe,” you hissed under your breath, finally daring to glance at him. “Will you just—”

“What?” He leaned in again, eyes bright with mischief. “You want me to go back to ignoring you?”

“Stop staring.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “Can’t promise that, princess.”

Your heart hammered, and you squeezed your pen so tightly it nearly snapped. “Why are you even here?”

He shrugged, his expression turning oddly serious. “I like sitting next to you.”

Rafe Cameron—the arrogant, cocky asshole you’d written off as nothing more than a nuisance—had just chosen to stay by your side.

As soon as class ended, you gathered your things in record time, heart still thumping wildly. The room buzzed with students shuffling out, but you kept your head down, hoping to slip away unnoticed.

Maybe if you were quick enough, you could escape before he decided to make good on his new, annoying habit of sticking to you like glue. But, of course, he was nothing if not persistent.

You’d barely slung your bag over your shoulder when he appeared at your side, his tall frame looming over you as he fell into step like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Heading to lunch?” he asked, all casual charm, as if he hadn’t just spent the entire class making you the center of unwanted attention.

“Yes?” You tried not to sound as thrown as you felt, but the way he looked at you—with that infuriatingly lazy grin—told you he could see right through you.

“Cool. I’m starving.” He said it like it was an invitation, like he was entitled to follow you, and before you could muster up a half-hearted protest, he was already steering you through the crowded hallway.

“Wait, what are you doing?” you demanded, glancing around in panic. People were staring, eyes widening as they took in the sight of Rafe Cameron, of all people, trailing after you. Whispers flitted through the air, curious and disbelieving, and you shrank under the scrutiny, feeling painfully exposed.

“Uh, going to lunch with you?” He made it sound so obvious, his voice lilting with amusement.

“I didn’t invite you!” You glanced at him, trying to tamp down the fluttery, nervous feeling his presence always seemed to stir up. “What if I’m eating with someone else?”

He shrugged. “Then I’ll eat with them too.”

You gawked at him. “What?”

But Rafe just flashed you that cocky, confident grin. “Relax. It’s just lunch.”

Just lunch, he said, like this wasn’t completely absurd.

You narrowed your eyes, debating whether to make a break for it, but he was already steering you toward the main quad, his hand ghosting the small of your back in a way that made your skin tingle. 

Your heart hammered as the familiar outdoor seating area came into view. Your friends were already there, sitting at your usual table—a small group of two girls and a guy, all talking animatedly. You hadn’t even sat down yet, and they still managed to look up as one, their expressions morphing from curious to shocked when they caught sight of you—and Rafe—heading straight toward them.

“Uh, hey,” you greeted awkwardly as you approached. They just stared, mouths agape.

Emily was the first to recover. “What the—since when do you two know each other?” she asked, eyes darting between you and Rafe like she was seeing some kind of glitch in the matrix.

“Yeah, what’s going on here?” Max, the guy in your small circle, chimed in, his gaze flicking to Rafe warily. “Is this, like… a project thing?”

“No, it’s not—” you started, but Rafe cut you off with a breezy smile.

“Can’t believe y’all kept her to yourselves this whole time,” he drawled, pulling out the chair beside yours and plopping down like he’d done it a thousand times before. “Thought you’d have the decency to introduce me to the most interesting girl on campus.”

Your friends gaped, eyes wide with shock. You could practically see their brains short-circuiting. Meanwhile, you were fighting the urge to smack him upside the head.

“Please shut up,” you muttered under your breath, cheeks burning.

But he just smirked, his gaze sliding over your stunned friends with lazy amusement. “What?” he said innocently. “It’s true.”

“What the hell is happening right now?” Emily demanded, still staring at you like you’d grown a second head. “You—you and Rafe Cameron?”

You sighed, already regretting every life choice that had led you to this moment. “There is no ‘me and Rafe Cameron.’ He just—he’s being annoying.”

“Annoying?” he repeated, feigning offense. “C’mon. I thought we were past that.”

“We are not past anything,” you snapped, shooting him a glare. But that only seemed to amuse him more.

“Okay, back up,” Max interjected, brow furrowed in confusion. “How do you guys even know each other?”

“Uh, sociology class?” you offered weakly, as if that explained anything. “He’s been sitting next to me.”

“Sitting next to you?” Emily repeated slowly, like she was trying to process a particularly difficult equation. “And now you’re… eating lunch together?”

“It’s not—” You looked helplessly at Rafe, who was watching the exchange with that insufferable smirk. “I didn’t ask him to.”

He looked completely unfazed by the mess he’d caused. “What can I say? I like the company.”

“Since when?” Emily shot back, clearly unconvinced.

Rafe shrugged, “Since she started talking to me.”

Your friends fell silent, eyes wide and suspicious as they turned to you, searching for answers. But you just sat there, feeling utterly, hopelessly lost. What were you supposed to say? That Rafe Cameron had decided, out of nowhere, to insert himself into your life? That he was following you to lunch like this was some sort of normal occurrence?

“Look,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “It’s really not a big deal. He’s just—”

“Rafe Cameron is never ‘just’ anything,” Emily interrupted, folding her arms as she fixed Rafe with a suspicious look. “So what are you up to?"

“Nothing,” Rafe said easily, his smile all sharp edges. “Like I said, I’m just getting to know her.”

“Getting to know her,” Max echoed, clearly skeptical.

“Yeah.” Rafe’s eyes never left yours, his eyes gleaming with something that made your pulse flutter. “What’s so weird about that?”

Your friends exchanged looks. You didn’t blame them. This was weird. More than weird. You’d never been the kind of girl to attract attention—especially not from someone like Rafe. Popular, arrogant, and completely out of your league in every possible way. And yet, here he was, acting like sitting with you at lunch was the most natural thing in the world.

“So,” He said suddenly, turning his attention back to the group, “Are you gonna sit here gaping all day, or are we gonna eat?”

Emily blinked, snapping out of her daze. “Uh, yeah, we’re… we’re eating.”

“Good.” Rafe turned to you, eyebrow raised. “You eating, princess?”

You stared at him, “I—yes?”

“Cool. Want me to grab you something?”

You stared at him, incredulous. “You’re offering to get me lunch?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I am. Now, what do you want?”

“I—” You swallowed, glancing at your friends, who were watching the exchange like it was some sort of bizarre performance. “Um, a sandwich?”

“Got it.” Rafe pushed to his feet, his smile smug. “Be right back.”

And then, to your utter disbelief, he sauntered off toward the food line, leaving you and your friends staring after him.

“What,” Max said slowly, “the hell just happened?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I have no idea.”

The awkward lunch with Rafe didn’t end as badly as you expected.

Your friends had spent the entire time shooting you confused, bewildered looks, while he seemed to thrive under their scrutiny, lounging beside you like he belonged. He didn’t flirt—thank God—but he didn’t exactly tone down his usual cocky self either. By the end of it, he’d somehow managed to charm your friends just enough to leave them confused rather than outright hostile. Still, after that lunch, you’d expected him to lose interest, to move on to his usual crowd and forget all about his bizarre little experiment. But of course, he wasn’t known for playing by the rules.

You learned that the hard way two days later.

It was late afternoon, and you were holed up in the campus library, buried under a mountain of textbooks and notes for an upcoming exam. The library was your sanctuary—quiet, calm, and blissfully free of distractions. At least, until Rafe sauntered in. You didn’t notice him at first, too absorbed in your notes. The library was busy, students murmuring as they worked, the rustle of pages and the faint clack of keyboards filling the air. You were hunched over a particularly dense passage in your sociology textbook when you felt it—

You stiffened, glancing up cautiously, and there he was.

He leaned against the bookshelf a few feet away, his eyes fixed on you with a lazy, assessing look. He didn’t move, just watched you, his lips quirking in that infuriating smirk when your eyes met.

“What are you doing here?” you hissed, glancing around nervously. No one seemed to be paying attention, but you still felt like the entire room was suddenly staring.

“Studying,” he said, straight-faced.

“Since when do you study in the library?”

“Since now,” he said easily, pushing off the bookshelf and strolling over to your table. He pulled out the chair across from you, dropping into it like he had every right to be there. “What? Can’t a guy broaden his horizons?”

You stared at him, incredulous. “You’re joking.”

“Not today, princess.” He leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand as he peered at your open book. “So, what’re we learning?”

“We are not learning anything,” you muttered, eyes narrowing. “I’m studying. You are… I don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Keeping you company,” he said simply. “You looked lonely.”

Your mouth fell open. “Lonely?”

“Yeah.” He tilted his head, his gaze sweeping over your face. “All holed up in here with your books. Thought I’d help.”

What was he even talking about? This was insane. He didn’t just hang out in the library, especially not to “keep someone company.” He was the kind of guy who spent his free time at parties, or on the field, or wherever people like him thrived. And yet, here he was, sitting across from you in the library like this was normal.

“Rafe,” you said slowly, “you don’t even know what I’m studying.”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It does if you’re trying to help,” you shot back, frustration seeping into your voice. “You’re—what are you even—”

“Okay, okay,” he interrupted, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Calm down. Just trying to see what’s got you all riled up.”

You bit back a groan, rubbing your temples. This was absurd. You didn’t need—didn’t want—his attention.

“Fine,” you muttered, turning your textbook around so he could see the page. “I’m going over Durkheim’s theory of social integration.”

Rafe leaned in, squinting at the page. “Durkheim, huh?”

“Yes,” you said, a little impatiently. “He believed that society functions through a collective conscience—shared beliefs and values that bind people together.”

“Sounds boring as hell,” Rafe said bluntly.

“It’s not boring,” you retorted before you could stop yourself. “It’s actually really interesting—he argued that a lack of social integration could lead to anomie, a state of normlessness that causes people to feel disconnected and isolated.”

Rafe stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. At least it felt that way to you.

“What?” you demanded, suddenly self-conscious. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

He shrugged, a strange, thoughtful smile tugging at his lips. “Just… you get really into this stuff, don’t you?”

Your cheeks flushed. “It’s sociology. It’s important.”

“Yeah, but…” He shook his head, “It’s kinda cute.”

You blinked, your brain short-circuiting. “Cute?”

“Yeah.” He leaned back, crossing his arms as he regarded you with a casual, easy confidence that made your heart flutter. “You get all intense when you talk about it. Like, you actually care.”

“I—I do care,” you stammered, “It’s my major.”

“I know,” he murmured. “I like that about you.”

What—what was that supposed to mean? Why was he looking at you like that, like he actually meant it?

Before you could even begin to untangle your thoughts, a shadow fell over the table, and you glanced up to see another student standing there—a tall, lanky guy with dark hair and glasses. He looked vaguely familiar, probably from one of your classes.

“Uh, hey,” the guy said awkwardly, glancing between you and Rafe. “Are—are you using this seat?”

Rafe’s expression changed instantly, “Yeah,” he said flatly. “We are.”

The guy blinked, taken aback. “Oh, uh, sorry, I just—”

“You just can find another table,” Rafe cut in, “We’re a little busy here.”

You gaped at him, mortified. “Rafe, stop.”

But he didn’t even glance at you. He just kept staring down the poor guy, his posture tense and unyielding until, with a muttered apology, the student backed off, scurrying away like he’d just had a close encounter with a predator.

“What the hell was that?” you hissed as soon as the guy was out of earshot. “He just wanted to sit down!”

“Yeah, and we’re studying,” Rafe said dismissively. “No room for distractions.”

“We’re not studying anything!” you shot back, resisting the urge to smack him. “You’re just sitting here, being—being weird.”

“Not weird,” he corrected, leaning in again. “Protective.”

You froze, your mouth going dry. “Protective?”

“Yeah.” His eyes were dark, intense, locking onto yours. “Can’t have just anyone bothering you, can I?”

After the bizarre encounter in the library, you were convinced Rafe would drop this whole… whatever it was. Surely, following you to lunch and then “protecting” you in the library was enough.

So when you found yourself at another party two nights later—dragged along by Emily despite your vehement protests—you knew it was only a matter of time before he found you. Because somehow, no matter where you went, Rafe had made it his mission to seek you out.

“Come on, you need to have some fun,” Emily had insisted, half-pulling, half-dragging you through the front door of one of the fraternity houses on campus. The music was already blaring, the heavy bass vibrating through your body. People were packed in the main room, laughing, talking, drinking, the buzz of chatter filling the air.

“This isn’t my idea of fun,” you muttered, hugging your arms around yourself as you tried to avoid brushing against the partygoers. It wasn’t that you disliked parties, exactly—it was just that the noise, the sheer volume of people could get overwhelming quickly.

“Just stay for an hour,” Emily pleaded. “Please? I swear it’ll be more fun than you think. We can dance, have a few drinks—”

“I don’t dance,” you cut in flatly, giving her a pointed look.

“Okay, fine, I’ll dance, and you… can hang out and people-watch,” she amended, undeterred. “Besides, who knows? Maybe you’ll meet someone.”

You gave her a withering stare. “Yeah, because I’m such a social butterfly.”

You sighed, resigned to your fate, and began making your way through the press of bodies. After a few minutes you managed to find a relatively quiet corner in the back, near the stairs, and gratefully leaned against the wall. Maybe if you stayed out of sight long enough, Emily would give up on trying to get you to socialize and let you leave early. It was a long shot, but you could hope.

You hadn’t been there long when you felt it—the now-familiar prickling sensation of someone’s gaze lingering on you. Sure enough, when you glanced up, there he was.

Rafe, in all his infuriating glory, leaning against the wall a few feet away, his eyes locked on you with that lazy focus that made your heart stutter. He looked unfairly good, dressed in a dark button-up that clung to his frame in all the right ways, his hair tousled just enough to look effortlessly cool. And, as usual, he was watching you like you were the only person in the room.

You narrowed your eyes at him, your stomach twisting in irritation and something else. “Are you stalking me now?” you demanded, crossing your arms as you glared at him.

Rafe’s lips curved into a slow, teasing smile. “Would it be so bad if I was?”

“Yes,” you said flatly. “It would be very bad.”

He chuckled, the sound low, sending an unwelcome shiver down your spine. “Relax, princess. I just saw you standing here all alone and thought I’d come say hi.”

“Hi,” you muttered, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Now you can leave.”

But he didn’t budge. Instead, he straightened, pushing off the wall and closing the distance between you in a few long strides until he was standing directly in front of you, his presence overwhelming.

You tried to step back, but the wall blocked your escape.

“Actually, I was thinking we could, I don’t know, hang out for a bit?” he suggested, tilting his head as he regarded you with a faux-innocent smile.

“Why?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Rafe blinked, seemingly taken aback by the question. “Why?”

“Yes,” you insisted, frustration bubbling up inside you. “Why do you keep… doing this? Showing up, sitting with me, following me to lunch, acting like—like we’re friends or something. What is your deal, Cameron?”

Slowly he reached up, bracing one hand on the wall beside your head, leaning in so close you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.

“My deal,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, “is that I like you.”

No. No, no, no.

That couldn’t be right. People didn't just like you. They tolerated you, maybe, or found you useful sometimes, but they didn't like you. Not like that. Not in the way he was implying. You felt panic rising in your chest, like a wave that was too big to stop. You couldn’t stop it.

“You’re lying,” you said shakily, shaking your head in disbelief. “You’re just—this is some kind of game, isn’t it? Some—some bet, or—”

Rafe’s expression tightened, his jaw clenching. “It’s not a game,” he ground out, his eyes flashing. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

You swallowed hard, your chest aching. No, this couldn’t be happening. This didn’t make sense.

“I don’t believe you,” you shook your head stubbornly.

His eyes narrowed, “No?”

“No,” you repeated, crossing your arms defiantly. “You’re just… you. You can’t just decide you like me out of nowhere.”

“I didn’t decide,” he murmured, “It just happened.”

Your breath hitched, your heart racing. Why was he doing this to you? Why couldn’t he just leave you alone?

“I—” You broke off, struggling to find words, but before you could answer, a loud voice interrupted.

“Yo, Rafe! There you are, man!”

You both jerked back, startled, and you glanced over to see one of Rafe’s friends—Topper, if you remembered correctly—stumbling over, a wide grin plastered across his face.

“What are you doing back here?” Topper slurred, his gaze sliding to you. He blinked, “Who’s this?”

Rafe stepped in front of you slightly, his posture tense and protective. “Doesn’t matter,” he said curtly, “Go find someone else to bother.”

Topper blinked, taken aback. “Whoa, man, chill. I was just—”

“Go,” Rafe repeated, his tone brooking no argument.

Topper stared at him for a long moment, then slowly backed off, muttering under his breath as he disappeared into the crowd. As soon as he was gone, Rafe turned back to you, his eyes softening again.

“Sorry about that,” he murmured, “Didn’t mean to—”

“Why did you do that?” you cut in, your heart still pounding.

Rafe frowned. “Do what?”

“Get rid of him,” you said, shaking your head in confusion. “He was your friend. Why would you—”

Maybe you’d misread him. Maybe he didn’t actually mean any of what he said. He was probably just bored, looking for some amusement—another toy to play with for a little while.

“I wanted to talk to you. Not him.”

You blinked, bewildered. “But he’s your friend.”

He gave a half-hearted shrug. “So? Doesn’t mean I want him interrupting us.”

Us. Like there was an “us.” Like there could ever be an “us.”

You shook your head, trying to clear the fog of confusion. “But I don’t understand,” you mumbled. “I don’t get it. You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough,” he said quietly, his eyes holding yours in a way that made it hard to breathe. “More than you think.”

You frowned. It was impossible to shake the nagging feeling that he was just… playing with you. That this was all some sick joke and at any moment, the punchline would hit, and you’d be the idiot.

“You’re just messing with me,” you muttered, taking a small step back to put some space between you. “You’re bored or something.”

“I’m not bored,” he said firmly, stepping forward to close the gap you’d just created. “I told you, I wouldn’t do that.”

“I didn’t ask for any of this. You’ve been following me around, showing up where I am, saying all these things like—like we’re something, but we’re not.”

Rafe stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as he looked at you, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “What are you talking about? You really think I’m just messing around?”

“Yes!” you practically shouted, throwing your hands up. “Yes, I do! Why else would you be doing this? You’re Rafe Cameron, for god’s sake. You don’t even like me. This is just some twisted game to you, isn’t it?”

You stared at him, trying to read his face, trying to find any hint of dishonesty, any sign that this was all an act. But all you saw was that same intensity, that same focus, like you were the only person who mattered.

Your chest tightened, panic grazing at you. This wasn’t right. It couldn’t be. People didn’t just… like you. They didn’t seek you out at parties or show up in libraries to talk about sociology. Guys like Rafe didn’t choose people like you. There had to be some ulterior motive.

“You show up out of nowhere, act like I’m some project, some… someone who needs your protection—why, Rafe? Because I don’t fit into your world? Because I’m some joke to you and your friends?”

“That’s not it,” He growled, his voice defensive. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I don’t know what I’m talking about?” you scoffed, shaking your head. “You haven’t been honest about anything. You haven’t given me a reason to believe any of this.”

“You think I’m lying? 

You moved your head again, harder this time. “That doesn’t make sense. You’re—you’re saying things that don’t make sense. I don’t understand.”

He took a slow, poising breath, his eyes never leaving yours. "What doesn't make sense to you?" 

"All of this," you replied, your voice quivering with frustration, "You, acting like you—like you actually care. Like you see me. People don’t just do that, not for someone like me. I don’t—" You cut yourself off, not sure how to finish the sentence, your thoughts spiraling.

It wasn’t just that you couldn’t believe him; it was that you didn’t know how to believe him. Your experiences had taught you to be wary, to always look for the catch, because there always was one.

Always.

Rafe's brows drawn together in something that almost looked like concern. "Someone like you?" he repeated, "What does that even mean?"

You swallowed, feeling your insecurities gripping down on your chest. "It means I’m not… like you. I don’t know how to talk to people, I don’t get things right all the time. People don’t notice me, and when they do, it’s usually because I’ve done something wrong, or because they want something from me. That’s just how it is."

He shook his head slowly. "That’s not how I see you."

You opened your mouth to argue, to say something—anything—to dismiss what he was saying, to protect yourself from the disappointment that was sure to come. But Rafe didn’t give you the chance. 

"You think I’m messing with you because you’re not like everyone else? Is that it? You think I’m playing some kind of game because you don’t fit into some stupid idea of who’s supposed to matter?" 

You wanted to pull away, to recoil into the safety of your doubts, but something in his voice, in the way he was looking at you, made you stop.

"I’m not going to pretend like I know everything about you," Rafe continued, no less serious. "But I know enough to know that I’m not bored. I don’t care if you don’t fit in with my world, or whatever you think that means. I like that you’re passionate about the things you care about. I like that you don’t put up with anyone’s shit—not even mine." A small, almost self-deprecating smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "I’ve spent enough time around fake people to know the difference."

You weren’t used to this—this kind of sincerity. It felt too real. And part of you still wanted to push it away, to reject it before it had a chance to hurt you. But another part of you—a much smaller, quieter part—was whispering that maybe he meant it.

"Why me?"

"Because you're you," he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

For a long, breathless moment, the two of you just stood there, the noise of the party fading into the background. Your mind was still processing everything, but there was something in the way he was looking at you, something that made you feel—just for a second—like maybe you could trust this.

You shook your head, "I’m not… I’m not good at this," you admitted, your voice uncertain. "At understanding what people mean, or knowing if they’re being serious or not. I don’t know how to read you."

Rafe’s eyes softened even more at your confession, and he took a deep breath, like he was trying to figure out how to make you believe him. "I get that," he said quietly. "And I’m not always great at this either. But I’m serious. I wouldn’t lie to you, especially not about this."

You wanted to believe him. More than anything, you wanted to believe him. But there was still that tiny voice of doubt in the back of your mind, reminding you of all the times you’d been wrong before, of all the times you’d trusted someone only to be let down.

You hesitated, your throat tight. "I don’t know if I can."

He didn’t push, didn’t demand anything from you. Instead, he just nodded slowly.

"That’s okay. You don’t have to believe me right now. But I’ll be here when you’re ready."

And with that, he stepped back, giving you the space you so desperately needed. He didn’t try to force anything, didn’t press for more. Instead, he just gave you a small, almost hopeful smile and turned, disappearing back into the crowd.

And as you stood there, your heart still pummeling into your ribs, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d been wrong about him after all.

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

When They Accidentally Bring Up an Insecurity| Jisung

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

You had always admired Han's loving spirit and his ability to find inspiration in the smallest things. He brought light into your life in ways you never thought possible. And he helped you see the world in a way most didn't. You loved that you had that in common with Han- an appreciation for things that breathed life into your creative works.

You had never been very good at drawing. Or writing. Or anything having to do with the fine arts. Rather your creativity came more in a problem solving way. But in order to connect with Jisung, you decided to take up sketching to connect with Han a little more, because you loved him.

But that just created a deep-rooted insecurity about your creative abilities. Surrounded by so many talented people - as you were around the kids -you often felt your own contributions paled in comparison, and it was a fear you kept to yourself.

One evening, Han was over at your place, working on some new lyrics while you attempted to write poetry. He was sprawled on the couch, notebook in hand, humming a melody under his breath. You sat at your desk, scribbling down words and then erasing them feeling increasingly frustrated with your lack of progress.

You had long given up drawing, and you thought it might be easier to write a poem, since it was words that described your feelings. You could easily write a poem about something you knew well right? It couldn't be that hard.

You scratched your head as you tried to think of rhymes.

"How's it going over there?" Han asked, glancing up from his notebook.

"Not great," you mumbled, trying to keep the disappointment out of your voice.

Han chuckled, not noticing your tone. "I figured."

His casual comment felt like a sting, a reminder of your perceived inadequacies. You forced a smile and nodded, but inside, you felt your confidence crumbling.

He got up and walked over to you, picking up your paper in his hands. He chuckled. "Poetry now huh?"

You felt your cheeks burn and tried to take it from him. "No-"

"No jagiya I want to read it." He said holding it above your head and reading it. "You make me laugh when I am sad, Your jokes are the best I've ever had. When you smile, my heart feels light, You make everything so bright." Han giggled again. "It's like one of those poems we had to write in elementary school."

That made your cheeks burn even more. "Jisung give it back-"

"Your hugs are warm, your eyes so kind, With you, I leave my worries behind. You're my sunshine, my best friend, With you, I hope the good times never end." He gives you a cute pouty face in a teasing manner. "Awww Y/N... it's such a cute little poem. It's like a little nursery rhyme."

"Jisung stop!" You called out again, feeling your eyes burn as you put your fists to your eyes, the embarrassment you had taking over.

"I know my poem's not that great, But loving you is my favorite fate. Thank you Jisung..." His smile fell and he swallowed. "Thank you...Jisung for...for being you. My love for you is always true." He looked up and seemed to realize what he was teasing you about and his lip trembled. "Y/N-"

"I want to be alone." You mumbled through your tears. Jisung wanted to reach out, but he knew he had hurt your feelings, but knowing you he also knew you needed space.

The next few days were a blur of self-doubt and creative blocks. You avoided drawing and writing, and found excuses to stay busy with other tasks. Han noticed your change in behavior and even if you guys had talked a couple hours after the incident, he still didn't think his apology was enough.

One afternoon, while you were both working on a puzzle together, Han brought up the subject again. "Hey, you know I'm really really sorry right?"

You nodded. "I know. I'm not mad anymore, Jisung."

Han frowned. "But you haven't been writing at all. Or drawing...I feel like it's my fault. No...I know it's my fault. I'm sorry I made fun of your poem- I loved it. I really did. It's the sweetest thing anyone has ever written me..."

You felt a pang in your chest, wishing you could believe him. "Thanks, but sometimes it feels like I'm just not good enough."

Han looked taken aback. "What do you mean? You're incredibly talented."

You sighed, finally letting out a bit of your frustration. "It's just… I see how talented everyone else is, including you, and I can't help but feel like my work doesn't measure up."

Han's expression softened, and he reached out to squeeze your hand. "You're amazing in your own right, and comparing yourself to others isn't fair to you. I wouldn't ever want you to compare yourself to me. That's like comparing a doctor to an actor. Both are genius in their own right, but do you expect an actor to be able to perform surgery like a doctor? Or the doctor to recite the entire second act of Hamlet? You have your talents that I could never even begin to measure up to, Y/N. Its the same with everyone who walks this planet..."

His words were kind, but they didn't fully reach the core of your insecurity. You forced a smile and nodded, hoping the conversation would end there.

A week later, Han invited himself over to your house, hoping to put an end to both of your guy's misery. You hated feeling like you had to walk on eggshells around him, and he hated thinking he was making you uncomfortable.

You guys ate dinner and started watching a drama. After the fourth episode Han pressed the pause button.

"Baby...can I show you something?"

You nodded, slightly confused as to why Jisung would pause your binge.

He grabbed his laptop from his bag and came back towards you, placing his headphones on your head.

He unlocked his laptop, clicked a few buttons and a soft melody filled your ears. Your eyes widened.

"Did you guys wrtie a new song?" You asked excitedly, but Jisung shushed you gently and motioned for you to listen.

You closed your eyes and let yourself go, embracing the music fully.

You felt your heart almost stop when you heard the words of your poem masterfully intricated into the song.

"Why did you show me that?" you asked, your voice trembling. You didn't dare open your eyes, or you were sure the tears you had would fall.

Han sounded puzzled. "Because it's great and I wanted to share it."

"But it's not great," you snapped, tears falling from your eyes as you opened them. "People will know you just used those words. You're so much more well versed and-"

Han stopped in his tracks, realization dawning on him. "I didn't mean to make you feel that way. I just wanted to show them how talented you are.” You shook your head.

"Ouch, Y/N..." Jisung chuckled, his voice breaking a little. You looked at Han, whose chubby cheeks were encompassed by his pout. His boba eyes sad.

"No- No baby I meant... I feel like my words are stupid. Not your voice. Your song was absolutely beautiful... I just feel like I made you waste such a good backtrack."

You wiped away a tear, feeling exposed and vulnerable. "It's not your fault. It's just… I can't help but feel like I'll never be as good as everyone else. And I feel like you did that to make me feel better..."

Han pulled you into a tight hug, his voice gentle and soothing. "I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. You're incredibly talented and creative, and your art is a reflection of who you are. It's unique and beautiful, just like you."

You clung to him, the sincerity in his words slowly breaking through your walls. "I just want to feel like I'm enough," you whispered.

Han held you at arm's length, looking into your eyes. "You are more than enough. Your worth isn't defined by how perfect your art or writing is or how you compare to others. It's about the passion and love you put into what you do."

His words resonated with you, and you felt a sense of comfort and reassurance. Han's unwavering support and belief in you made a difference, and you realized that your insecurities didn't define you.

"And I didn't make that song to make you feel better...I made it so you could see just how much inspiration I find from you. Y/N I love you more than anything. So, I was over the moon when I wrote this. And even more elated when I got to use the words the love of my life wrote. That's only the demo..." He grins sheepishly. "I was thinking...it would sound cool if you could leave that poem as a voicemail. I could make it the outro of the song..."

You looked at him with wide eyes. "You mean it?"

"Of course I mean it baby. I mean... I know Stay speculates I'm in a relationship...it's been a year now so I feel like this would be a fun way of confirming that. And I want the world to hear the beautiful voice of my baby." He coos, squishing your cheeks.

You giggle and nod, as Han peppers kisses all over your face.

One evening, as you both sat on the couch, Han handed you a sketchbook he had bought for you. "I got this for you. I want you to fill it with whatever makes you happy. No pressure, just pure creativity. It doesn't even have to be art. Maybe you could write me more poems..."

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "Thank you, Ji. For everything."

Han wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close. "I'm always here for you. And for inspiration. Because you're my inspiration." He says nuzzling his nose against yours.

You leaned into him, feeling a sense of peace and contentment.

His inspiration. You thought.

What an amazing thing to be...

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

@panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee

@shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin

@whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun

@ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael

@skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

@jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld

@kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9

@minsungsthirdwheel

[cheeseceli]

Their s/o is a songwriter

Pairing: idol Ot8!skz × songwriter Gn!reader (individually)

Genre: fluff, headcanon, idol!au

Request: so what if skz finding out their partner is a song writer / composer? bonus points if the skz members also found out that they wrote their favourite song :>

Warnings: reader is implied to write for Kpop most of the time, not proofread.

A/n: as a songwriter, I appreciate this request a whole lot lmao. Thank you for requesting, I hope you like it!

Bang Chan

Honestly, I think this is something he would find out before dating you

Man knows everyone in the whole entertainment industry

Ofc he knows who you are

If anything, the way you both got to know each other more was through working together to make a stray kids song

Overall, I think he would love to have a partner in the industry

Even if you never get to be on stage

Simply because you understand him more than other people do

You know how music is essential and demanding at the same time

Your job probably makes him feel more connected to you

He likes to joke that you're the newest member of 3Racha

Always sends you songs he made your you to listen

And wants you to do the same

You can send him an audio at 1AM and bro will listen to it right away, ready to give you his opinion and advice (and praise)

Lee Know

Poor stray kids and stay

They will be listening to the songs you worked on nonstop

He just happens to be your biggest supporter 🤷🏻‍♀️

Has a whole 10 hours playlist with all of your work

Knows every lyric even if they aren't Korean

And he also enjoys dancing to it very much

Even if the song doesn't have a choreo, he likes to make up his own by listening to what you did

Probably invented a few trends with your songs because of it lmao

He also listens to it a lot when he's on tour

Even if it's not your voice that he's listening to, it's still you somewhat

He just wants to feel close to you

Asks you to sing or play the songs you produced

Might or might not have a small compilation of audios of you singing when he's way too homesick

(And if you wrote his favourite song, he would definitely have an audio of you singing it)

Changbin

Sees you as a very big inspiration

The amount of times he listened to one of your songs so he could get out of creative block is crazy

If anything, he probably already saw you as a role model before even getting to personally know you

Imagine the seo changbin fan boying you

If you write for other K-pop groups/soloists, he's probably trying to make references of what you wrote in his own rap

Fans always think he's talking about a certain idol or something but he really is just trying to include you in his work😭

And he would beg to have at least one stray kids song cowrote by you

Like literally begging

He needs to have one small Collab with you at least once

And will get a little pouty every time you can't work with skz because you're with another group at the moment

Hyunjin

Loves to have songwriting dates with you

Usually releases the songs you both write (with your permission ofc) as a skz-recorder

Stays are starting to wonder who is that composer/songwriter who is behind every single song Hyunjin is in lmao

I remember he said that one of his goals for 2024 was to produce more

So he will 100% seek your advice and even ask for some particular lessons at times

And he is always a little bit shy when he's about to show you what he's been working on

Because he feels like you are THE songwriter

And you're also his partner so like

Your opinion is a very big deal

And he's also so excited when you let him listen to a preview of your newest work

Is always awestruck

(Any song of yours would be his favourite lmao, and the best part of it is that he means it)

Han

He would LOVE to have a partner in the industry

Or just connected to art somehow, even if it's just a hobbie

I mean, look at his lyrics

Bro inhales and exhales art

The fact that you understand this side of him and even share this interest is so what he needed

He's also very very helpful when you need to write songs

I see late night dates in the studio

Even when any of you is far away for whatever reason

It can be 2am in Korea, he will be on his phone more than willing to listen to you brainstorm

Brainstorming with Han would be very fun overall lmao

It's either going to be the most sentimental thing to ever exist or it's going to be complete nonsense lmao

Oh and he would also make a lot of references to things you wrote

And would be so so so so happy if you ever made a reference to a work of his

Felix

I remember he said once that if he wasn't an idol, he would like to be a professional songwriter

So the fact that YOU are a songwriter/producer

He kinda loves you a little bit too much

One thing he loves is to understand your thought process

If you ever let him see your notes,he will try his best to understand every little thing

Even if it's only words with no correlation all over the page

He loves to know how your mind works

And he wants to know where the inspiration comes from!

(If it's from him he will never shut up about it)

Loves to know the stories behind each one of your works

He feels like he gets to know you a little more every time he listens to something that is yours

Is always covering one of your songs on lives

Seungmin

Literally everything you could've asked for, both in the dating aspects and in professional aspects

He makes sure you never overwork but will never restrain you from your work

Like, he knows that sometimes the inspiration comes at 2AM. He won't shut off your notebook, he'll be up with you and guarantee you don't stress

And he's your most honest critic

If you need help with rhymes, structure, chords or whatever, he is there

(After dating him you rarely browse anything at Google anymore, seungmin always understands the specific vibes you want)

And if you are a songwriter/ composer who doesn't know how to sing (that's me criticising myself) he always volunteers to make the demo for your songs

As I said, everything you could've ever asked for in a partner and coworker

I.N

Now this one

The moment he discovered he was begging to see some of your work

It's crazy how many of your songs were included in the playlist he has of songs that remind him of you😭

Talk about soulmates

I also believe that he would love to help you with songs

Give him one chance and this man is already with a notebook open trying to come up with the best verse ever

But he really likes to hear you brainstorm as well

Just you in your comfort zone really makes him admire you

And he loves how he can feel closer to you

Just reading the lyrics you wrote ou listening to the beat you produced makes him feel like he is meeting you for the first time again

Always having a new impression of you

Will also sing any demos you want him to!

Masterlist | you'll probably like: if skz wrote a song for you

Reblogs and feedback are always appreciated!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Taglist: @yuyubeans

[kyleoreillylover]

𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐲 𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝, 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐡 𝐖𝐞 𝐀𝐢𝐧'𝐭 𝐚 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐞 ♡

𝙅𝙚𝙮 𝙐𝙨𝙤 𝙭 𝘽𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙠!𝙁𝙚𝙢!𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

Summary: Everyone swears something is going on between you and Jey, but you guys are just best friends. Here are a few moments to disprove that.

Warnings: SMUT!!! Unwanted advances, wrestling related violence, two idiots pining after each other.

A/N: This is one of my longest and best works and I am proud of it! I got inspired listening to Shameless by Camilla Cabello, so I’d reccomend listening to it while reading. This took so freaking long, so I hope you enjoy! Tagged: @southerngirl41 @pinkwithhearts @xbutterflius-effectusx

Word Count: 28,105

Moment One

You took off your headphones, taking a sip of your water and putting your weights away, your muscles aching from your intense workout. The gym was nearly empty, the dim lights casting long shadows across the mats.

You liked it like this, quiet and calming, unlike the rest of your schedule. You loved your career, but it nothing if not demanding and mind consuming. Long days as you were on the road while you interacted with media, fans, and even longer meeting with creative. The gym was the one place you felt like you didn't have to play a character, where you could be 100% yourself, where you could finally feel calm. It was one of your few safe spaces.

And you glanced at your other safe space, Jey- who was across the gym sparring with a training dummy. He was drenched in sweat, his muscles glistening in the low light as he hit the dummy over and over again.

You watched him for a moment as you made your way over, a grin on your face as he super kicked the dummy. "Y'know, a lot of people would pay good money for you to do that to them?"

Jey turned towards you, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. Oh, are you one of 'em?" he teased, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

You chuckled, walking closer, the scent of his sweat and the gym's metallic tang filling your senses. "Maybe," you replied with a grin. "If you'll let me."

Jey's eyebrows raised, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You gotta pay the price for that privilege, then, sweetheart." He smirked, beckoning you to the mat.

You listened to him and made your way into the ring, tilting your head, feigning innocence. "And what's the price, huh?"

Jey grinned at you, lips curled into a challenging smile as he wiped more sweat off his brow. "How 'bout a little match? Winner chooses punishment for the loser."

You smirked at him, rolling up your sleeve and circling him. "Can I get punished too if I win?" You pouted, making Jey laugh, a deep, hearty sound that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Sure thing. But you ain't gonna win." He teased, stepping closer and mirroring your stance.

"Whatever makes you feel better, babe." You shot back, and the two of you closed in, locking up in a grapple. The both of you knew each other inside and out, so it was like a game of chess, jey's strength against your agility. You both tried to stay serious, but Jey kept on using terrible trash talk each time he had the upper hand, making you giggle, then making him laugh, then making him lose the upper hand, and that process relating itself over and over again.

You finally got Jey in a headlock, and couldn't help but laugh as he pretended to struggle to free himself. "Come on, big man, what you got?" you taunted.

Jey chuckled as you tightened your grip. "You really tryna see what I got?" he said, still grinning. "You gonna regret it, sweetheart."

But as he tried to break free, his foot hit the edge of the ring, and he stumbled, pulling you down with him.

You both tumbled to the mat, and in that moment, everything felt like slow motion as Jey quickly turned around and moved you, trying to soften the blow for you as the two of you fell on the mat. You ended up on top of him, your breath hitching as you looked down into his dark, intense eyes.

The gym was silent except for the sounds of your heavy breathing, and you could feel the warmth of his body beneath you, his arms around your waist. Jey's eyes never left yours, and his grip on your waist didn't loosen, his chest rising up and down with each heavy breath.

What is happening? You wondered, face inches away from Jey. This is your best friend, the person you've been friends with for years and who knew you in and out. You shouldn't be feeling like this, right?

Jey's voice broke you out of your thoughts, his gaze still locked onto yours. "You good?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

You swallowed hard, finding it difficult to tear your eyes away from his. "Yeah, I'm good." You managed to stammer out, your voice slightly breathless.

Jey nodded, but his grip on your waist didn't loosen. Just as he was about to say something more, the gym door creaked open, and Jimmy's voice echoed through the room. "Yo, where you guys at? Roman's been looking for ya'll, he wants everyone at the hotel so we don't miss our flights!"

You quickly pushed yourself off Jey, your cheeks flushing as you scrambled to your feet.

"Uh, yeah, we're coming," you called out, your voice slightly higher pitched than usual. You avoided looking directly at Jey, still feeling the lingering warmth of his touch.

"Ya'll good?" Jimmy asked, eyeing the two of you in the ring, and you hopped he didn't sense the tension between you.

"Yeah, just lost track of time," Jey replied smoothly, standing up and giving you a quick, knowing glance before turning to his brother.

Jimmy looked like he wanted to ask more, but he gave his brother one more look before shrugging it off, heading back out of the gym. "Alright, just don't be slow. I'm not saving ya'll if Roman decides to go full tribal chief on ya," he chuckled, disappearing through the door.

You bit your lip, glancing at Jey who was already looking back at you. There was a mix of emotions in his eyes, but you couldn't quite place them.

"Thanks for… you know," you started, gesturing vaguely to the mat, but Jey understood what you meant. He always understood.

Jey's lips curled into a soft smile. "You know I always got your back, Uce," he said, his tone warm and reassuring. "We good?" He asked, holding out his hand to you for a handshake.

You took a breath before giving smiling back, dabbing him up. "Yeah, we're good." you replied, his skin feeling smooth on yours.

"I told ya'll to hurry up!" Jimmy yelled out again impatiently from outside the gym. You and Jey shared a look before breaking out laughing, the tension from a moment ago fading into comfortable laughter. That's what you liked about him, how no matter what, he always made you feel comfortable.

"Alright, alright," Jey chuckled, slinging an arm around your shoulders once you got your stuff. "Let's go before Roman goes all crazy on us."

And as you both headed out of the gym, your heart was still racing, but you chalked it up to the adreadine. You knew there was nothing going on, just your stupid heart mistaking fear for something else. Nothing else.

And if he brought you just a bit closer to him than needed that you were practically tucked into his side, it was probably just his way of making sure you were alright. Right? You tried to convince yourself of that, even as you felt the steady beat of his heart against your shoulder.

It was nothing else. It couldn't be anything else, and you would always make sure of that.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Moment Two

Jey was grumbling under his breath as he watched you flirt with Finn Balor like there was no tomorrow, his arms crossed tightly over his chest

"Jimmy, Solo, you seeing this?" Jey muttered, his gaze never leaving the scene unfolding in front of him. Jimmy chuckled, leaning in closer to his brother. Solo remained silent, but raised an eyebrow at Jey's demeanor.

"Relax, Uce. It's all part of Roman's plan, remember? She's just doing her job." Jey shot Jimmy a frustrated look, still unable to tear his eyes away from you and Finn.

"Yeah, but does she have to be so... convincing?"

Jimmy raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "You not getting jealous, are you, Uce?"

Jey's eyes narrowed, and he huffed in annoyance. "Of course not. It's just... I don't want him trying anything with her. I don't want him playing with her."

Jimmy nodded knowingly, glancing back at you and Finn. "Trust me, she knows what she's doing. And we ain't gonna let nobody hurt her. Roman's got this all planned out. Right Solo?" Solo nodded silently in agreement.

Jey clenched his jaw before nodding as well, but his gaze never left you and Finn. A tech walked up to the three of them, informing them their match started in 10. Jey immediately bolted to you and Finn, not looking back to his smirking brothers.

"Aye, time out on all the lovey lovey crap, we gots to go." You jumped in surprise when Jey came out of nowhere, stepping between you and Finn.

"We were just having a friendly chat, nothing to worry your arse about, man." Finn smirked at him, moving to get closer to you but Jey stepped in front of you, blocking Finn's path.

"Well too bad, friendly chat's over!" Jey grabbed your arm and pulled you away, and you waved to Finn, blowing a kiss at him. "Talk to you later, Finn!"

"You ain't talking to nobody later." Jey grumbled, continuing to pull you away, guiding you to the ramp where his brothers were waiting.

"You never let me have any fun!" You pouted, trying to keep up with him.

"You look like you had plenty of fun." Jey muttered, his voice dripping with annoyance.

You couldn't help but laugh at the frustrated look on Jey's face. "Don't be jealous. You know you're still my number one boy."

Jey couldn't help but roll his eyes at your teasing "I ain't jealous," he said, though the slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips told a different story.

You gave him a mocking pout, playfully batting your eyelashes. "Mhm, whatever you say babe." He looked ready to argue with you, but you approached the ramp, Solo and Jimmy waiting for you.

"Everything set with Finn? You guys were real close earlier." Jimmy asked, a knowing grin on his face. Jey clenched his jaw again while you smiled, oblivious to Jey's anger.

"Everything's set, trust me. Finn and Damien aren't taking your tag titles tonight, or any other night." You confidently promised, earning a nod from Solo, a wide smile from Jimmy and a more restrained nod from Jey,

"That's what I'm talking about, girl!" Jimmy hollered, clapping you on the back and dapping you up. You giggled at his enthusiasm, leaning into him and glancing at Jey, who thankfully had a small smile onto his face and slowly began to ease back into his usual self.

"You ready to put these emo freaks in their place?" You joked, moving from Jimmy and nudging Jey. Jey let out a laugh at your words, looking at his title before meeting your eyes again.

"Let's go show em why we run this place!" Jimmy hollered again, dabbing Jey up, holding their titles up and clanking them together, waving out the ramp.

You held out your hand to Solo for a fist bump, smiling up at him. "You ready?" Solo nodded and gave you a firm fist bump.

"Let's do this."

You strutted to the ring with him by your tail, your own women's championship shining around your waist as you walked to the ring, Jey and Jimmy by your side, the Judgment Day all already waiting, Rhea standing at ringside. You waved at her mockingly, taunting her as you stepped into the ring, giggling at her glare. You blew a kiss at Finn as you sat on the apron, making him smile at you before Damien elbowed him harshly, making his smile turn into a glare.

The bell soon rang, and you hopped out of the ring to ringside, Solo by your side as the match went underway. Jimmy and Jey were bringing it to Damien and Finn, but they were honestly all evenly matched, which worried you. But whenever it looked like the Twins would lose, you made sure to jump on the ramp, distracting Finn with your flirty words and pretty looks, making him lose the upper hand.

"Finn, did you look this good just for me tonight?" You purred, fluttering your eyelashes for added effect. Finn stumbled back from his attacks on Jey, not being able to take his eyes off of you, too distracted by you.

Damien noticed the distraction too. "Finn! Snap out of it!" he yelled, snapping him out of his stupor. But it was too late, Jey had gotten back up and slammed Finn back down onto the mat, and you smirked across the ropes as Jey took control over the match.

"You little minx!" Rhea yelled at you, seething with anger, moving from her corner get to you. You got off the ropes and ran to Solo, hiding behind him.

"Come get me if you want me!" You peeked out from Solo, a grin on your face. She scoffed and tried to push past Solo, but he blocked her path, not letting her get to you. They had a stare down, neither of them backing down.

You took advantage of the distraction and slipped back into the ring, just in time to see Finn hit coup de grace on Jimmy as he went for the pin. The referee counted: "One, two..."

But before the referee's hand could come down for the three-count, you grabbed Finn's leg and yanked him out of the ring, breaking the pin. Finn stumbled, anger flashing in his eyes before realizing it was you.

You gave him an innocent smile, winking playfully as you retreated a few steps. "What's the matter, Finnie?" You teased, your voice dripping with faux innocence. Your mouth opened to make another teasing remark, but a fist connecting with your face sent you reeling back.

It was Rhea, her eyes blazing with fury as she tried to land another punch on you. But this time you were prepared, ducking it and jumping on top of her, raining down punches on her. The two of you brawled all over ringside, the crowd's cheers echoing in your ear as fists flew and hair was pulled, Solo struggling to pull the two of you off of each other.

You ended up on top of the ramp, standing and leaning on the ropes to catch your breath. You stood up, breathing heavily, seeing Rhea on the ground, also out of breath. But what you didn't see was Damien hurling towards you, thinking you were one of the twins. You turned around, and Damien realized you weren't one of the twins until it was too late, crashing into you.

You shrieked as you tumbled, bracing yourself to hit the floor. But instead of landing on the floor, you landed in muscled arms that quickly caught you, the impact jolting through you.

You looked up, wide-eyed, and found yourself staring into Jey's concerned eyes.

His arms were securely around you, holding you close to his chest while yours were wrapped around his neck, almost on instinct. Everything else faded away as you looked into Jey's brown eyes, his face inches from yours. Neither of you said a word, time seeming to slow down as you were locked in an intense stare, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Are you okay?" This time it was you that broke the silence, whispering the words as your breaths mingled. The worry in Jey's eyes softened, and he nodded slowly, his grip on you relaxing just a bit. "Yeah, I got you," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. "Are you?"

You nodded, unable to tear your gaze away from his. "Yeah, thank you." Jey's grip tightened just a fraction, his thumb brushing gently against your side, reminding you you were still in his arms.

"No need to thank me, sweetheart." he said, his voice gentle. "Just doin' what I always do." You managed a small smile, but before you could respond, you saw Rhea hurling towards you.

Jey moved before you could do anything, sidestepping with you in his arms, making her miss and craah into the barricade instead. You quickly got out of Jey's arms, missing the way his arms lingered as he watched you go, his expression unreadable.

You brushed off what happened, focusing on Rhea and beating the hell out of her.

Jimmy and Jey ended up winning the match and retaining their titles, you and Solo going into the ring and celebrating with them.

You stood next to Jey, his eyes never leaving yours as you raised his arm, pretending like you didn't feel his gaze burning through you. He was probably just proud of the victory and you helping him, right? You let go of his arm, running right into a hug from Jey.

"Couldn't have won without you!" Jey exclaimed, pulling you close and lifting you off the ground, his title cold against your skin. You smiled back at him as he set you down, but your smile faltered a bit when you noticed the intensity in his gaze.

The four of you eventually left the ring, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins as you went through the curtains, the roar of the crowd still ringing in your ears. Jimmy noticed the smile leave your face, and as soon as you dragged Solo to the locker room, he approached Jey with a knowing look. "You guys alright, Uce? She seemed a little off."

Jey shifted his gaze from you, who had just left the area with Solo, to Jimmy. He had an look Jimmy couldn't read before Jey gave him a smile, "Of course, Uce. We're all good," Jey replied, though his smile seemed just a tad forced. Jimmy studied his brother for a moment, sensing there was more to the story, but he decided not to press further. If Jey wanted to talk about it, he would.

He just hopes Jey's words are true.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Moment Three

You clenched your phone, the cold air biting into your skin as you looked around panicking, seeing that same man from outside still following you, making you quicken your pace.

You fumbled with your phone, your glossy eyes making it hard for you to dial the number you know by heart. You managed to press the call button, the phone ringing on the other end. Your heart pounded in your chest as you prayed for him to answer. The call rang once, twice, and then, a familiar voice answered.

"Hey sweetheart. Wassup? If you wanted to see me you coulda just went to my room" He teased.

Tears welled up in your eyes, both from fear and relief. "Jey, I need you," you managed to choke out, your voice trembling.

Jey's tone immediately shifted, concern washing over him as he sat up in alarm. "What's goin' on, baby girl? Where are you?"

You took a deep, shaky breath before speaking, still keeping an eye on the man following you. "I'm... I'm outside, and there's this guy. He's been following me for a while now, and I'm scared."

Jey was already starting his car, running to the parking lot and putting his keys in. "Stay on the line with me, sweetheart. I'm coming to you. Can you tell me where you are?"

You quickly glanced around, trying to spot anything familiar that you could tell him. "I'm near that little park we passed by earlier, the one with the fountain," you managed to say, your voice trembling.

"Alright, I know where you at. Just stay on the line, okay? I'm on my way," Jey reassured you, trying to keep himself calm as he rushed to get to you.

"Okay, Jey. Please hurry," you pleaded, your voice barely above a whisper, trying to keep your composure. You looked around you when you heard a noise, and saw the same man coming closer to you, a disgusting smirk on his face.

"Get the hell away from me!" You yelled, taking a step back, your heart pounding in your chest. You were scared, but you knew you couldn't just stand there.

"What's the matter, baby? I just want to please you." You gave the man a disgusted look as he licked his lips, trying to advance on you.

"Well I don't want your musty ass, so stay away from me!" The man's eyes darkened with anger at your words, and he grabbed your wrist, making you shriek and try to push him away,

"What!? What happened, baby?" Jey yelled through the phone at your scream, hearing your yelling and panic.

You didn't respond, the phone dropping to the ground as you were pushing the man away from you and making him fall to the ground and try to grab your leg, but you managed to kick him off and scramble away, your heart pounding in your chest.

The man tried to crawl towards you, but before he could a car pulled up beside you, and the door swung open, revealing Jey, his eyes red with anger as he saw you on the floor, trembling with fear because of this disgusting man trying to get to you.

Jey lunged towards him, grabbing him by the collar and slamming him into the car, punching the man hard in the face over and over again until he was bleeding, his knuckles raw with how hard he was punching him. The man was crying, begging for forgiveness, making Jey scoff at his audacity.

"Why you crying now, big boy? You were all tough a minute ago," Jey taunted the man, punching him once more before shoving him into the car, grabbing him by the throat and slamming him against the car window. The man's gasps for breath echoed in the chilly night air.

"You mess with my girl, but you don't have the balls to handle it, huh?" Jey tightened his grip on his throat, enjoying the scared noises coming from him. The man gurgled and struggled to speak, his eyes pleading for mercy. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry," he managed to croak out.

Jey's grip on the man's throat only tightened as he growled in a low, menacing tone, "Oh trust me, you gon' be real sorry." Jey slammed the man's head against the car window, causing it to crack and the man to scream in pain.

You watched with tears streaming down your face as Jey beat him unconscious, slamming his head against the car over and over again.

Jey wasn't letting up, making his head crack against the car until you feared the man not be alive anymore if you let this continue and rushed over to Jey, tugging at his arm desperately.

"Jey, please stop! He's not worth it!" Jey stopped and turned to you, breathing heavily with anger. His eyes softened as he looked at your trembling form, your tear-streaked face and the fear in your eyes. He released the man's throat, letting him slump to the ground, unconscious.

"Are you okay, babygirl?" Jey asked, hands hovering over you, not sure you wanted to be touched right now.

You threw your arms around him, burying your face in his chest as you sobbed. "If you didn't come..I don't know what would have happened," you managed to say between sobs, your voice muffled against Jey's chest.

"Shh, don't think 'bout that. I'ma always come for you." Jey whispered to you, tightening his hold around you, his heartbeat soothing your racing one. He looked down at the man he had just beaten, a sneer on his face as he looked at the piece of trash.

"This piece of shit ain't gonna bother you again," Jey said, his voice still laced with anger as he gently led you to his car. You nodded, your throat tight with fear and relief. Jey opened the car door for you, helping you get in before hopping in the drivers seat, his hand on your thigh rubbing circles into your skin helping you calm down as he drove through the streets to your shared hotel.

"Did he touch you?" You shook your head, still clinging to Jey's hand on your thigh as he drove. "No, he didn't. I managed to keep him away, but I was so scared, Jey."

Jey squeezed your thigh gently, his eyes glancing at you a couple times before going back to the road. "You did good, baby girl. Real good. You're safe now, okay? I got you," Jey's voice was soothing, a stark contrast to your racing mind.

You leaned your head against the window, letting out a shaky breath. "I know you do. I don't know what I'd do without you." Jey's grip on your thigh tightened, his thumb still tracing soothing circles.

"You ain't ever gotta find out, sweetheart. I'm always gonna be here for you. Always."

You finally arrived back at the hotel, your heart still pounding in your chest, but Jey's arm wrapped around you as he escorted you inside made you feel better. He lead you up to your room.

As you both entered your room, Jey locked the door behind you. He gently guided you to the bed, making you sit down, and then crouched in front of you, his hands cupping your face to ensure you looked into his eyes.

"I'm right here, baby girl. You're safe now," he said, his voice filled with tenderness. He brushed his thumb over your cheek, wiping away a stray tear.

You nodded, leaning in the warmth of his touch. "I'm sorry you had to see that, Jey. I didn't want you to..." Jey's fingers gently pressed against your lips, silencing you.

"Shh, none of that. You did what you had to do, and I'm glad you called me. You're safe now, that's all that matters." "

But if I didn't leave to get some air in the first place, none of this would have happened," you whispered, guilt gnawing at you.

Jey's eyebrows furrowed at your words, his fingers moving from your lips to your chin, making you meet his gaze. "Don't go blaming yourself for this sweetheart. This is on that man, not on you, okay?"

You blinked back tears at his words, his soothing touch grounding you. You nodded, your voice barely a whisper. "Okay, Jey."

Jey smiled softly, hugging you closer to him. "Good." He hugged you a moment longer before pulling away, his eyebrows furrowed again.

"I ain't mean to pry, especially right now, but is everything good? Why you needed some air in the middle of the night?"

You looked away from his gaze, a mix of emotions swirling inside you. Part of you wanted to keep everything to yourself, to not burden him further, knowing Jey's strained relationship with his cousin, but another part of you longed to confide in him.

"It's just... everything's been so overwhelming lately, Jey. The traveling, the constant pressure, especially from Roman..."

Jey's face fell at the mention of Roman, his jaw clenching at the thought of Roman making you feel this way. He reached out and gently tilted your chin up, making you meet his eyes again.

"What did he do?" You hesitated, not sure how well Jey would take it. But he wanted to know, wanted to protect you. You finally decided to open up.

"He's just been... demanding, controlling. Sometimes it feels like he's suffocating me," you admitted, tears welling up in your eyes again.

"After the show today, he called me in his hotel room to discuss my loss." Jey's eyes darkened, it must've been serious if you were talking to him about this, you hated talking about your losses.

"He was furious, yelling about how it reflects on the bloodline and how I need to step up. But it's not like I lost my title! And when I told him that he got mad and I tried to apologize.... but he started throwing stuff, and said it wasn't good enough," you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I needed to get out of there."

Jey's eyes were red with anger and something else you couldn't decipher as he listened to you. His arms rubbed your back soothingly, the comfort just as much for him as it was for you. “I ain’t gonna let him treat you like that.” Your head perked up at the anger lacing in his words, not liking the rage consuming him.

“No, you’re not gonna do anything.” You pulled back slightly to look at Jey, concern in your eyes. "Jey, please dont do anything stupid, you know how Roman is!”

“Yeah, and I don’t care! He's crossed a line, baby girl, and now he gonna pay the consequences.” You brought your hand to his cheek, gently caressing it in an attempt to calm him down. “Jey, think is why I didn’t wanna tell you! Cause you get so mad you can’t think straight. I don’t know want Roman doing anything to do, so just drop it.”

“Drop it?” Jey scowled at your words and how easy you were brushing all this off. There must’ve been something else you weren’t telling him. “What the hell he say to you, cause I ain’t ever seen you like this.” It was true, you were one of the most independent and strong-willed people Jey knew, and seeing you like this had him on edge.

You sighed, looking down for a moment before meeting Jey's gaze again. "He... he said some things about you. Said he knew how you are and how I blab everything to you… and that if I told you he would hurt you. That he’d destroy you, and It’d all be my fault.”

You bit your lower lip, tears welling up again. “He sounded so...so serious, Jey, and it scared me. He can hurt me all he wants, but I’m not gonna let him do anything to you.”

Jey’s heart sank at your words and how serious yet sad you sounded. How dare Roman use you as his fucking pawn to keep you all in line?! He pushed away his anger as best as he could and brought you closer to him, making your head rest on his chest. His hand gently stroked your back, comforting you while his thoughts raced.

He knew how fucked up Roman could be, and all this brought him back to 2020; all that hurt, all that anger, all that pain his own family member caused him. But it was worth it to protect you, and hed do it agaun to shield you from Roman’s wrath. But now it felt like all his efforts meant nothing, like he was trapped in a cycle he couldn't escape.

"Listen to me, sweetheart." He was sitting on the bed with you, grabbing you and bringing you onto his lap, holding you in his arms. He had never been this touchy with you before, but you welcomed it, needing his touch to ground you in that moment.

"I promise you, baby girl, I ain't gonna let him touch me. I ain't gonna let him touch you either, no matter what.” Jey’s voice was scarily calm as he spoke. He held you tighter against his chest the more he spoke, but you could feel his heartbeat racing. You knew he was seething with anger, but he was doing his best to keep it in check for your sake.

You held onto Jey tightly, your fingers clutching his shirt as if he were your lifeline. And in that moment he was, he was the only thing keeping you sane. "Please, Jey," you whispered, your voice trembling. "Don't do anything. I don't want anything to happen to you. I can't have a repeat of 2020... I can't see you get hurt. Please promise me you'll let this go.

Jey's grip on you tightened at your words, his chin resting on the top of your head. "I can't just let this go, baby girl," Jey murmured, his voice conflicted. "You're my best friend, my girl, the one person other than Jimmy I trust with my life. And the thought of him hurtin' you or threatenin' you like this..." He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath to calm himself before continuing, You were holding onto him like he was your anchor, your grip never wavering, listening to every word he was saying.

"It makes me so fucking mad, tears me up inside knowing he fucking did this." Jey scowled  at the thought of Roman making you feel like this, making you feel like the way he's felt for the past 3 years. 

You lifted your head, looking into Jey's eyes with a pleading expression. "I understand, Jey, I do. How do you think I feel every time he treats you like that, every time he goes after you? It breaks my heart too, but I can't bear the thought of you getting hurt because of me." Your voice broke at the end, all your pent up emotions and the night’s effects on you coming to a head. 

Jey's heart broke at the sadness coming from your voice, his heart aching at the pain he saw in your eyes. He brought a hand to cup your cheek gently, his thumb tracing small circles not your soft skin.

"I hate seein' you like this, baby girl. I hate that he's got you feelin' this way, and I hate that I can't just... fix it." Jey opened up his own emotions getting the better of him. He wasn't the type of man to wear his heart on his sleeve, but with you, it was different. You brought out a side of him he hand't known existed. 

You sighed, leaning into Jey's touch, the warmth and care in his eyes soothing you. "I know, Jey. I wish I could fix it too. But it's not that simple, trust me. Promise me that you'll let this go. For me, please. You're all that matters to me right now."

Jey hesitated for a moment, his eyes locked onto yours and you could see the internal struggle in his gaze. He was torn between his fear of Roman, his instinct to protect you,  and to respect your wishes. He sighed, looking away from you deep in thought. You wrapped your arms around his neck, 

scratching the hairs on the back of his head gently until he was ready and finally met your eyes again. His eyes were still filled with anger, but they softened the more they looked at your begging gaze. "I can't promise anything, but for you, I'll let it go... for now. But if he ever tries anything like this again, he's gonna have to deal with me, okay?"

You nodded, relieved that Jey didn't go fists pounding and swinging to Roman's hotel room in a fit of rage. You knew Jey could be a hothead, but you also knew that he cared about you deeply, and you didn't want to see him get hurt or make things worse.

"Thank you, Jey," you whispered, hugging him tightly. You wrapped your arms around Jey, holding him close, and for a while, the two of you just sat there in silence, finding comfort in each other's presence. Jey's heart still raced with anger, but he was doing his best to control it for your sake. He continued to caress your back, trying to provide you with as much comfort as possible. "Anytime, baby girl," Jey whispered back, his lips brushing against your hair as he held you close.

After a while, your eyes began to grow heavy, from the day's work and the emotional turmoil of the night. Jey noticed you drifting off to sleep and shifted you in his arms, pulling your head from his chest. "You should get some rest, sweetheart," he murmured, his tone gentle.  You snapped awake and grabbed his arm in a panic. "Can you stay with me please? I don't think I can stay alone, not after tonight." 

Jey smiled softly, holding your hand that was clinging onto him. "Of course, baby girl. I'm not going anywhere. I'll stay right here with you all night if that's what you need." You sighed with relief, your exhaustion finally starting to take its toll.  Jey saw and gently helped you sit up, letting you lean on him. "You gotta change first, sweetheart. Want me to help you to the bathroom?"

You nodded, still feeling a bit shaky from the night's events. Jey helped you to your feet and guided you to the bathroom. He stood outside, giving you some privacy while you changed into more comfortable clothes. When you came out he let out a teasing whistle.

 "You clean up pretty good, baby girl." Despite the events of the night, he was trying to bring a smile to your face. You managed a small chuckle, which was a good sign. You settled into the bed, and Jey joined you, peeling off his shirt and pants, leaving him in just his boxers. 

Your eyes went straight to his defined and very hot abs, taking your eyes away when he brought his gaze back to you after he finished changing. He slid inside the bed and brought you close to him, holding you in his arms as you both settled in. You felt safe and warm, your head resting on his chest as you listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Jey's fingers lightly traced patterns on your back, lulling you into a sense of security.

Jey pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, his warm breath against your skin. "Sleep now, baby girl. I've got you." He murmured in a soothing tone, massaging your back gently. You closed your eyes, finally feeling at peace in his arms.

Jey continued to massage you, alternating between gentle strokes and soothing words until your breathing slowed, and you drifted into a deep, peaceful sleep.

He watched as you slept soundly in his arms, his mind racing with anxiety and anger that he had grown accustomed to. But he had not grown accustomed to seeing you hurt like this, seeing that sad look on your face and feeling your trembling form clinging onto him. It shattered and tore at his heart, knowing he couldn't completely shield you from the pain caused by Roman. It reminded him of the helplessness he felt in the past, reminded him of the part of him that was broken because of Roman. He couldn't let Roman do that to you. He looked at you, his heart aching for you, but not just at your pain, but something else he stuffed deep down inside of him for a long, long time. He sighed softly, bringing his lips down to your head one more time. 

"I love you, you're..." Jey hesitated for a moment, barely able to hear his voice from how low he was speaking. He had never said these words out loud, never allowed himself to admit it even to himself. He gazed at you, his fingers still tracing soothing patterns on your back.  "my best friend."

He still couldn't bring himself to admit what he knew out loud, partially in fear you might be secretly awake and hear him and partially because saying it out loud felt like crossing a line he wasn't sure he was ready to cross. Jey wasn't good with feelings and opening himself up, and  was terrified of the vulnerability that came with admitting his feelings.

"You're my best friend. You're my girl, and it don't matter who comes at you, Roman included, I'ma always protect you. Always." Jey promised himself, holding you a little tighter every time he spoke.

He looked down at you one last time before snuggling into you, finally closing his eyes and the weight of the world fall from his shoulders with your touch. He let sleep wash over him, drifting off to sleep with one thought in his mind.

If Roman wanted to run back 2020, then his ass better be prepared. Cause Jey wouldn't let history repeat itself.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Moment Four

incoming text from jeybae: why the hell you avoiding me?

another incoming text from jeybae: i know you seeing these. neither of us want our business coming out on camera, but if that the only way I'm gon' have u talk to me then it's what's gon' happen.

another incoming text from jeybae: don't say i ain't warn you. you ain't gon' run from me, ma.

You sighed as you shut your phone off, continuing to put your makeup on in the girls locker room and ignore the concerned glance that Liv was giving you.

"Everything okay, hun?" Liv finally asked, concern lacing her voice. You looked up, offering Liv a faint smile. "I'm fine, don't worry your pretty little head about me, Liv."

You were far from fine, but she didn't need to know that. You did know that you were at least kind of valid with your feelings. Ever since Sami betrayed the Bloodline, Jey had been radio-silent, not speaking to anyone, including you. You had tried calling, texting, doing anything but you hadn't heard a peep from him. He hadn't called any of his family members either, Jimmy being the most concerned for him outside of you. You had spent many nights consoling Jimmy, assuring Jey would come back when he was ready. And when he did come back, it wasn't even for you, it was for Jimmy, and even though he didn't tell Jimmy either, it felt like a slap in the face after everything you've been through.

And yeah, it might've been petty to ignore him when everyone else accepted him with open arms, but couldn't just pretend like everything was fine and peachy and go back to the way things were. You were snapped out of your thoughts when Liv gently touched your arm.

"Look, I get that you've got some stuff going on, but maybe you should talk to Jey. I've known him a long time, and he's a good guy. He's probably just trying to figure things out too."

You bit your lip, grateful for Liv's concern but not entirely convinced it was that simple.

"I appreciate your advice, but he had his space, and now I need mine." Liv gave you a sympathetic look, but didn't push anymore. "Alright babe, just know you can always talk to me if you need to."

You gave Liv a genuine smile, touched by her kindness. "Thank you, Liv." You stood up, giving her a hug before leaving the room, smoothing out your outfit as you waited for your cue to go to the ring.

Roman had surprisingly let you have your own promo tonight, saying it'll get your mind in shape and out of the sadness that seemed to consume you recently. Your music hit, and you made your way to the ring, ignoring the cheers and boos as you gestured for the crew member to give you the mic.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Smackdown, otherwise known as my show." You had an-albiet forced- cocky smile on your face as you addressed the crowd. "Everyone has been so busy with Sami that they've forgotten who the true face of the women's division is, and I am here to remind everybody that it is me."

You smirked, patting your women's championship that was shining around your waist. "You see, there are those who chase opportunities, and then there's me, who creates them. I don't wait for my moment; I seize it. And Sami had to chase for his opportunity, beg for it, and then when he finally got it, he threw it all away for Kevin Owens, his best friend who doesn't even like him!"

You laughed, reveling in the boos as you gloated. "But his time has passed, and mine has arrived. So this will be the last time I address him, and the first time I addressed what else has happened with the Bloodline."

Your tone shifted from playful to serious, as you looked directly into the camera, your smirk turning into a glare. "Everyone is saying how the Bloodline has turned vulnerable, how they're divided. But let me make something clear: the Bloodline will always stand strong. There is nothing wrong, no division, only unity, and no matter what we will always run the WWE. So if anyone wants to come test me on that, feel free to come out right now so I can teach you how wrong you are."

You paused, looking at the ramp to see if anyone would be stupid enough to challenge you. But to everyones surprise but your own, it was Jey's music that hit, and the two of you locked eyes across the arena.

Much like the other times you guys locked eyes, it was like you were the only two in the room, his steely eyes never leaving you down as he made his way into the ring, frown never leaving his face as he stepped in the ring, the two of you mere inches apart.

"Cut my music." Jey demanded sharply, the tension in the air so thick you could practically cut it with a knife. The music abruptly halted, leaving only the echoes of the crowd and your shallow breaths.

"What, no welcome hug, Jey?" You quipped with a sarcastic smile on your face, your words dripping with a mixture of bitterness and pain. Jey's gaze remained fixed on you, his expression a mix of frustration and hurt.

"This aint the time for jokes." Jey's voice was low, his tone edged with a kind of intensity that sent shivers down your spine. "You ain't answering my calls, my texts, anything!"

You scoffed, feeling anger boil up inside you. You held the microphone firmly, your voice resolute.

"You're right, Jey. I haven't been answering your calls and texts. You want to know why? Because for once, it's me who needed space. You disappeared without a word for weeks, and when you finally came back, it wasn't to see me. It was to see Jimmy. You didn't tell me what you've been going through, and I get it, you needed time, but it hurt, Jey. You hurt me. And I needed to figure out my own feelings, too."

Jey's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing at your words. He let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair.

"I had to get my head right, sweetheart. You know how it is. But I'm back now, ain't I? And I came back for Jimmy 'cause he needed me, just like you need me now." You shook your head, a mixture of frustration and sadness bubbling up within you.

"Jey, you don't get it. I needed you then, too. And it felt like you just left me in the dark. I watched you struggle with Sami, and I wanted to be there for you. But you shut me out. And then you come back, and it's like nothing happened. Like we can just pick up where we left off. And now you're mad at me for doing the same thing?" Your cocky facade slipped off and the pain was now showing on your face as you yelled your feelings at Jey.

"Where were you when I called you? When I comforted Jimmy cause he was worried as hell cause you wouldn't pick up the damn phone! Where were you when I needed you, Jey?" Jey's frown deepened at the raw hurt in your voice, and he took a step closer, reaching out a hand, wanting to touch you, to comfort you, but you took a step back, keeping a distance between you.

"I didn't mean for it to come to this, alright?" Jey's voice was low, strained. "I was dealing with my own shit, tryna sort it out. I thought you would understand like Jimmy."

You swallowed the lump in your throat, , your anger still simmering beneath the surface."Understand what? How you just left without a word? How you didn't give me a chance to support you, to be there for you? I wanted to help, Jey. I wanted to be the one you could lean on. But you shut me out, just like you're doing now."

Jey's face contorted with frustration, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "I didn't know how to handle it, okay? I thought I could deal with it on my own. I didn't want you to see me like that."

"But I want to see you like that, I want to be there for you, no matter how tough it gets. That's what love is, Jey." Your eyes widened at the word that left your mouth, quickly backtracking before he could speak. "The love best friends show each other. The love we always show each other." You looked down onto the mat, not wanting to see his face. "But I can't give you that love if you keep shutting me out."

Jey's breath caught at your words, his heart pounding in his chest. Did you really mean it the way he wanted you to mean it? Jey's mind was racing, torn between the fear of losing you and the fear of admitting what he knew was true. 

You waited for an answer, and waited and waited and waited until you realized you wouldn't be getting one. After everything you've been through, he couldn't even give you the decencey of a response! You scoffed, turning away from him. "I can't even do this right now, I can see you don't even care about this, about us, about me. So just do me a favor and leave me alone like you've been doing since you came back." You spat at him, your word burning with the hurt in your chest. You turned to leave, but before you could move even one step, Jey's hand shot out, grabbing your wrist and stopping you in your tracks. His touch sent a jolt through your body, and you turned to face him, anger and hurt burning in your eyes.

"Please..." Jey whispered, his voice filled with a mix of desperation and longing, his eyes locking onto yours. He was standing so close to you that you could feel the heat of his body, and it was maddening.

"No, we are done here! I gave you a chance to explain yourself, to make things right, but you're just proving my point." You seethed, snatching your wrist from his grasp and dropping your mic on the mat. 

Jey's face contorted with pain, his hand still hovering in the air where your wrist had been. "Wait, please, just hear me out," he pleaded, his voice cracking with emotion.

You shook your head, biting your lip to try and contain the flood of emotions threatening to spill out. "There's nothing else to say, Jey." You looked at him one last time, his guilty expression and puppy dog eyes etched into your memory before turning  on your heel and made a beeline for the ropes, desperate to get away from the ring before you caved and let your emotions take over. 

"Wait- you  ain't gon' walk away from me again!" Jey called from behind you, slipping out the ring and trying to catch up with you. You had been avoiding him forever, and he wasn't gonna let his stupidity cost him the most important person in his life. 

You quickened your pace, the fans' cheers drowning in your ears as you made your way up the ramp. You could hear Jey's footsteps getting closer, and you  walked even faster, not wanting to see him. 

"Just leave me alone!" You shouted over your shoulder, not looking back as you made your way backstage and breezed past the crew members and other wrestlers, ignoring their concerned glances and storming past them. Whatever half baked apology he was gonna spew- you didn't wanna hear it.

But you knew he wouldn't leave you alone, and you spotted an open door to a storage closet and made a split-second decision. You darted inside, hoping he wouldn't see you.

But Jey was fast, and he caught sight of you just as you slipped into the closet. He rushed in after you, his chest heaving from the chase. He pushed the door shut behind him, leaving the two of you in the small, dimly lit space.

"Can't you just leave me be?" You rolled your eyes and tried to push past him, but he blocked your path, his body towering over you.

"I'm sorry, but I can't do that, ma." Jey whispered, his voice heavy with emotion. "I can't let you walk away like this."

You glared up at him, frustration boiling over. "And why not? You've had no problem doing it before, so it should be no problem for you to do it again. So excuse me, but I have better things to do than listen to your empty words." You tried to move past him again, but he blocked you again, making you groan in frustration.

"Move." 

"I ain't movin'. Please just listen to me-"

"I gave you a chance and you didn't take it! Now move-"

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't care about you!" Jey shouted, his voice echoing off the walls of the closet. 

"Oh so now you care about me? if you do you would listen to me and leave me alone!"

"Of course I care about you!  You're the person I care about the most! The person I love the most" 

You pushed at his chest, desperation and anger coursing through you as you poked at his chest, trying to ignore the way your heart was racing, betraying your own words. "Don't say that, Jey. Don't you dare say things you don't mean"

Jey's hand shot out, grabbing your wrist, effectively stopping your assault on his chest. He looked down at you, his puppy dog eyes searching yours, his grip on your wrist firm but not hurting.

"You know I ain't ever lie to you, and I never will." His voice was  low and filled with raw intensity. "You know me better than anyone. You know how I feel about you, even when I messed up."

You stared into his eyes, and the walls you had built to protect yourself crumbled in an instant. "Jey..." you whispered, your voice filled with a mix of vulnerability and longing.

Jey took a step closer, his other hand cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear that had escaped. "I'm sorry for everything I did. Everything that hurt you. And I wouldn't hurt you again by lying to you right now."

You shut your eyes, trying to wade off the emotions you always shut yourself from, that part of you you never allowed yourself to let out. This could not be happening, not right now.

"Jey...stop." Jey didn't stop, his thumb continuing to caress your skin. "I can't stop. God, I've tried so fucking hard to,  and if I could I would, but I can't." Jey's hand was shaking as he continued to stroke your cheek, his heart and mind in complete turmoil as he tried to express himself, express his emotions. 

"Every time you smile at me, every time you laugh at my dumb jokes and take care of my family, every time you hug me and make me feel like I'm worth something,c eveytime you comfort me when I need it... I fall for you all over again." Jey's voice was barely a whisper, his forehead resting against yours, his warm breath mingling with yours. "You're the best part of my life, ma. And I'm sorry, but I can't let you go."

You opened your eyes, and the tears that had been held back spilled over, mingling with Jey's own. "I don't want to let you go either," you admitted, your voice trembling. 

Jey's grip on your wrist softened, his hand now tenderly holding yours. He let out a shaky breath, relief washing over him as he heard your words. "Then don't, ma. Please, don't." And with those words, he gripped your face gently and brought his lips down to yours. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, hands on the ends of his mullet and practically jumping into the kiss, his arms snaking around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him. 

The kiss was hard and heated, all your pent up desire and longing coming to a head as you brought him closer to you, teeth clashing as you longed to taste every part of his mouth, his taste familiar and new all at once, intoxicating you and making your head spin. Every movement of his mouth was like an apology, every sigh he broujht out of you a sorry for all the pain he's caused you, his arms squeezing your soft flesh, a silent confession to do better for you, to be better for you.

When he pulled away, his voice was hoarse, his gaze locked onto yours. "I've wanted this for so damn long."

You looked up at him through your lashes,  your heart pounding with a mixture of nerves and desire. "So have I," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I forgive you. I can’t keep pretending I don’t love you too."

Relief washed over Jey at your words, his thumb traced soothing circles on your hip as he looked at you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

"Then let's stop pretending, ma." He molded his lips against yours, his hands running up and down your waist. You grab the back of his head, deepening the kiss and pulling on his hair, groaning into his mouth when  Jey bit your lip, his tongue brushing against yours.

"Best friend, huh? Jey teased as he pulled back slightly, his hair tousled from your eager hands. You grinned playfully, running your fingers through his hair. "Best friend, lover, whatever you want, Jey. I just want you."

Jey's eyes darkened with desire as he looked at you, his hands sliding down to your hips, pulling you even closer. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to hear you say that." He whispered, his voice low and seductive.

With a mischievous smile, you leaned in to whisper in his ear, "Well, lucky for you, you don't have to wait any longer." You trailed kisses down his jawline, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your lips.

Jey let out a low, appreciative growl as your lips moved along his jaw, his hands caressing your back, exploring the curves of your body.

"Baby girl," Jey murmured, trying to keep his moans low. "I've missed you so damn much." He leaned in to capture your lips again,the kiss burning with pent up desire and longing that you both have been keeping to yourself. Every desperate meeting of your lips was delicious and everything you imagined. 

Your fingers deftly worked to remove Jey's shirt, and his hands trailed down your back, pulling you closer as if he couldn't get enough of you. The closet was small, but Jey made it work as he backed you against the wall, his lips trailing down your neck, nipping and kissing with a fiery hunger. You tilted your head to give him better access, relishing the sensation of his warm lips against your skin.

"I've missed you too, Jey," you whispered, your voice filled with longing. His hands moved to your hips, and he lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist. You gasped as he ground against you, and the friction sent a jolt of pleasure through your body.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, and you pulled him closer, your kiss growing more fervent, more heated. Jey's hands moved up your thighs, the fabric of your dress hitching higher as he gripped your hips tightly. The sensation of his hardness pressing against your core sent a shiver down your spine, and you let out a breathy moan against his lips.

You broke away from the kiss for a moment, gasping for breath as you looked into Jey's eyes, your faces inches apart. "Jey," you whispered, your voice trembling with desire. "I need you."

Jey's eyes burned with desire as he looked into your eyes, his chest heaving with longing. He didn't need to hear those words twice. 

"Then have me, sweetheart," he growled, lowering you to the ground just long enough to remove his remaining clothes before lifting you back up, pressing your back against the wall once more. He held you up with his strong arms, your legs wrapped around his waist, your dress bunched up around your hips. Jey's lips crashed against yours, the kiss wild and passionate as he held you against the wall.

You moaned into the kiss, your hands roaming over his bare, sculpted chest. You could feel the heat of his body, the hard muscles pressing against you, and it sent shivers of desire coursing through you. You nipped at his lower lip, causing him to groan in response, his hips grinding against yours, making you groan when you felt his arousal pressing firmly into you.

Jey's moans and the way his lips devoured yours drove you crazy, and any other day you would've loved the teasing, but not today. You couldn't wait any longer. You needed him, now.

Breaking the kiss again, you whispered, "Jey, please," your voice filled with desperation and longing. His eyes locked onto yours, and he understood exactly what you needed. It was the same feeling he had everytime he looked at you.  Without a word, he lowered you gently, making sure you were steady on your feet before guiding you to a nearby table in the closet.

Jey's lips moved from yours to your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he left a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone. He worked his way down your body, his fingers brushing against your clothed clit gently, relishing in the soft gasps and moans he got out from you.

With a hungry look in his eyes, Jey slipped his fingers beneath the delicate lace of your underwear, his touch sending a bolt of pleasure through your body. You arched your back, pressing yourself against his hand, silently begging for more.

He obliged, his fingers expertly rubbing your clit, making your breath hitch and your moans grow louder. "No teasing, just give me what I need, Jey," you pleaded, your voice shaky with desire. Jey's lips curled into a wicked smile as he continued to work his fingers, his thumb circling your sensitive clit agonizignly slowly, relishing in the whines and moans you gave him as he tortured you He knew exactly how to push your buttons, and he reveled in the way your body responded to his touch.

"Jey, I swear to god, if-"

Jey cut you off by speeding up his fingers, making you choke on your words when he circled your clit, slipping another finger inside you

"What were you gon' say?" Jey taunted you, loving to see you like this. You rarely let your composure slip, barely let anyone else take control like this, and he was loving every moment of it. He loved this, the way you responded to his touch, your moans, your vulnerability.

"Answer me, sweetheart. " Jey slowed down his movement for an agonizing moment, never breaking eye contact with you. The heat in his gaze was scorching your skin in the best way possible.

"What were you gonna say?" You struggled to form a coherent sentence, your breath coming in shallow gasps. You tried to grind against his hand, but Jey tightened his grip on your hips and held you in place, enjoying you squirms and toying with you. You tried to grab his hand to make him move, but he kept his grip firm, making you whimper with frustration.

"Come on, baby." Jey eased as he continued to torture you, his fingers moving in a torturous slow rhythm that made you want to punch him and kiss him at the same time. "You not gon' get what you want till you answer me."

He seemed to be trying everything to get you not to answer though, moving his fingers every time you tried to speak. You tried to muster up any self-control you had left, but it was slipping away with each brush of his fingers against your aching core.

You bit your lip, locking eyes with Jey as you struggled to speak through the overwhelming pleasure. "If you don't stop and make me cum, I'm gonna kill you after this. " You panted out, making Jey chuckle softly, the sound sending a delicious shiver through your already heated body.

"Say my name," he demanded, finally picking up the pace and giving you what you craved. Your fingers left the edge of the table and dug into his shoulders harshly, but he didn't seem to mind, fingers expertly moving inside you and teasing your clit until you were a trembling mess.

"Jey!" you moaned out uncontrollably, your nails digging into his back as again and again and again, until your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you slowly went slack in his touch, chasing that heat building up in your body.

Jey could feel you tense, and he added another finger, moving even faster until you were scratching his shoulders. "That's it, baby girl," he growled, his lips finding yours for a searing kiss. "Come for me." His fingers were relentless, pushing you closer and closer to the edge, and you couldn't hold back any longer.

With one final desperate moan of his name, you came undone, shutting your eyes as pleasure hit you hard, making you gasp for air and tremble in Jey's arms, his arms and the table behind you the reasons you didn't fall in your wobbly feet. Jey continued to move his fingers gently, his lips pressed against your neck as he whispered sweet, reassuring words in your ear. You let him gently move his fingers against you and help you ride out your climax until you finally pushed his hand away, too sensitive to take it anymore.

You collapsed against the table, his arms wrapped around you, supporting you. His eyes were smoldering as he watched you catch your breath, a satisfied smile on his lips as he licked his fingers, savoring the taste of you.

"Damn, you taste so good, sweetheart." Jey groaned at the sweet taste of your nectar. You gave him a seductive smile in response, your chest still rising and falling rapidly as you walked towards him, reaching for the waistband of his pants pulling them down to free his hardened length. Jey hissed in pleasure as your fingers wrapped around him, and he let out a low, guttural groan as you softly stroked his throbbing dick, your touch light and driving him crazy.

You yelped when Jey grabbed your hips, and in one swift motion laid you on the table, the surface cool against your heated skin.  He positioned himself between your legs, the sight of that making the heat between your legs grow even more intense.

"You sure you want this?" Jey asked, looking into your eyes for any hesitation or hint that you're lying. He was giving you an out, giving you a final moment to reconsider this, a chance to change your mind. But he knew h if you left him like this it would completely break him, that you guys were already in too deep.

You grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him down for a passionate kiss that wiped all doubts out of his mind, made him focus on the now, on how good your body felt against him, on how the wait was worth it. 

When you pulled back for air, your brown honeyed-eyes stared at him with the heart eyes you've always looked at him with but more intense than any other time you've gazed at him, no longer hiding the desire in your eyes you've always felt for him. "I've never wanted anything more than this." You breathed, spilling the words out like you've said them a million times. "I want you."

Jey's heart was stuck in his throat at your words, the words he's been wanting to hear since the first time he laid eyes on you in catering a couple of years ago, when you were in NXT and the face of the women's division back there and he was on the smackdown low with Jimmy trying to make themselves stand out, to prove they belonged to be their and to be tag team champions. It was a chance meeting, you were on Smackdown to make a special appearance promoting your NXT main event match and happened to bump into Naomi while trying to find the locker room, and she was more than happy to help you find it. 

When he saw you talking with her, your sparkling smile that made him want to always put it on your face and your laughter ringing in the hallway, he felt his heart skip a beat, and he couldn't get himself to look away from you. There was something about you, your charisma, your beauty, something untangiable that made him want to instantly be around you, learn about you, be a part of your world.

It was like you sensed his stare on you, and you looked away from Naomi and locked eyes with him, and he forgot how to breathe when you gave him a bright smile, moving away from Naomi and walking up to him.

"Hi! You must be Jey, Naomi's already told me so much about you, you're the cute twin, right?" You introduced yourself with a teasing glint in your eye as you extended your hand to him,  your voice soft and charming.

"He better be the only cute one to you, I already got the other twin, you better remember that." Naomi glared at you playfully and nudged you, which gave Jey enough time to put on his big boy pants and act like a normal human being. "It's your first day and you already know the truth." Jey smirked, taking your hand and shaking it gently, trying to play it cool despite the way his heart raced. "Yeah, that's me, the cute one."

You giggled, the sound of it making his knees weak, but he managed to stay upright. "Well, it's lovely to meet you, Jey. I'm really looking forward to my match here on SmackDown. Naomi's been telling me about how great Smackdown is, and with you here I have no doubt that it is." You grinned at him, your kind words putting him at ease but also making his heart jump out of his chest at the same time. Naomi chuckled at you, already knowing something was up between you and Jey. "You have no idea. Jey, how about you show her around after your matches, make her feel welcome."

Jey internally gave Naomi a death glare, knowing that the look on her face meant no good. But he was also grateful she gave him an excuse to talk to you even more. "Of course, on behalf of the Uso Penetary, I'll be your tour guide."  he replied with a charming grin.  "But be careful, it can get real ucey in here."

Naomi rolled her eyes at him, while you laughed at his dumb joke, surprising him by linking your arms with his, your smile blinding his eyes and his heart. "Then let's get a head start, and we can get real ucey. Lead the way." You tightened your grip on his arm, ignoring Naomi's teasing look and looking at Jey expectingly. He glanced at your arm that was wrapped around his and looked back at you, a smile making its way onto his face.

"Whatever you say, m'lady." He flicked his hat like he was a cowboy jokingly, making you laugh again before leading you further backstage.

And ever since then, the two of you have been inseparable. You would hang out whenever your schedules were free, talk for hours at a time about anything and everything, your energies matching and his playful nature mirroring your own. You grew closer and closer to each other, and you opened him up in ways he’d never imagined he’d be comfortable with, especially when it came to how much he closed off his heart, but you managed to worm your way into his heart and throw away the key when he finally shared his soul with you.

But as you grew closer, he was afraid to make a move on you, scared he would make you run away, so he settled for being your friend, which was one of the greatest and stupidest things he'd ever done. 

Great because you were the sweetest person he had ever fucking met, and the love you showed him was something no one else had ever given him, not even his own family. But stupid because he realized he had already fallen in love with you by the time he figured it out, and now he was in way too deep to tell you. 

And now, here you were, looking up at him with those eyes, with those words he'd wanted to hear, and he was starting to wonder if he had dreamt this whole thing, if he was gonna wake up, find himself alone in his bed, with a throbbing hard-on, wishing you were really there. You caressed his cheek, and the warmth of your touch grounded him, confirmed that this was real, that he was right where he wanted to be.

Jey let out a shaky breath, his eyes locked on yours, his lips curling into a smile. "I want you too, baby girl," he whispered, as if he was trying not to wake himself up from a dream.

You smiled back at him, at the words you always dreamed he would say. You brought him into another kiss, but this time it was sweet and slow, like you were pouring everything you felt for each other into it, everything you've held back, finally realizing how far you've come and how far you're willing to go for each other.

Jey's hands moved tenderly over your body, exploring every inch as if committing it to memory as he felt himself already being addicted to the taste of you. He broke the kiss, his forehead resting against yours as he gazed deeply into your eyes.

"I can't believe how damn long it took us to get here," he admitted with a soft chuckle, his voice laced with affection. "But I wouldn't change a thing if it meant I got to be here with you right now.

Your heart softened at his words as you caressed Jey's cheek with your thumb and smiled warmly. "Sometimes the best things are worth the wait."

His smile widened, and he nodded in agreement. "Damn right, baby girl." Jey brought himself closer to you, his eyes filled with the unspoken question you already knew your answer to. You nodded, giving him permission for what you both knew was meant to be.

You both moaned once he entered you, his mouth finding yours in a kiss as he thrust into you,  slowly at first, holding back and letting you get used to his length. You breathed out for a minute, waiting for the pain to turn into pleasure and he peppered your face with soft kisses, trying to distract you from the discomfort. After a minute or two you felt yourself relaxing, and you needed him to keep going. You arched your hips, dizzy with your want for him, knowing once he started you'd be an absolute addict for him. 

"Jey, please move." You whined, wrapping your arms around his neck and trying to have a bit of self-control, but Jey always took away your self-control, made you get out of your own head the only way he could. 

"Relax, baby. I got you. Relax." Jey tried to calm you down, a smile making its way on his face at the way you were already begging for him. He thrusted slow and deep, watching your face for every moan and reaction you gave him, your eyes half-lidded and jaw slack with pleasure you never had with anyone else. 

"Eyes open, or I'll stop, sweetheart." You forced your eyes open at his command, his dominance making you clench hard around him, and he felt it and smirked, enjoying every bit of control he had over you. Your eyes locked onto his, and you could see his own pleasure overtake him, his brain overflowing with how good you felt on him. 

"Good girl," he praised, feeling your tightness around him as he continued to pound into you slowly at first, then speeding up, then slowing down again, driving you even more crazy. You let out a particularly high pitched moan when he hit a certain spot deep inside you, making you clamp a hand over your mouth, suddenly hyper-aware of even though this was secluded, anyone could walk past you at any moment and hear you. But Jey pulled your hand off of your mouth, grabbing your wrists and pinning them gently on the table, and hit that sweet spot in you, making you loudly moan out again.

"Let everyone know who you belong to, baby."  Jey whispered in a deep, sexy voice. " Let it out. Tell me how much you've missed me, baby." 

You didn't hold back, "I've missed you so damn much, Jey," you moaned, your hands trying and failing to find a grip on anything as your body rocked with the rhythm of Jey's thrusts. "Needed this. Needed you."

Jey thrusted harder into you in response, the sound of your words and the way you moaned his name fueling his encouragement to keep going until you remembered. nothing but his name. "That's it, baby. You're mine," he growled, his possessiveness turning you on even further as he nuzzled and kissed your skin, his lips working their way down your chest, his tongue tracing teasing circles around your hardened nipples. "And I aint going nowhere this time, you stuck with me now." You groaned, instinctively trying to get your hands to cover up your noises but Jey shook his head, tightening his grip on your wrists.

"Don't be shy, baby, let 'em know you're mine," he purred, his hips grinding against yours, setting a relentless pace that had you gasping and moaning uncontrollably, no matter how hard you tried to stop your moans Jey brought out every single one of em, his free arm snaking down to your legs and his fingers finding their way between your thighs. Your leg’s quivered even more when he gently played with your clit, a stark contrast to hard his dick was pistoling into your core.

“If we get caught, I’m blaming you.” You moaned out with effort, too busy to focus on anything but Jey, Jey, Jey.

 "Baby, you can blame me all you want. I’ll take full responsibility." he chuckled against your skin, his breath hot and intoxicating. "But you won't be thinking about that once I'm through with you." He finished his sentence with a powerful thrust that made you cry out his name that proved his point and made you quickly forget about anything other than him.

You felt that familiar sensation building up inside of you, and you could tell Jey was close too. You shut your eyes again, feeling overwhelmed but in the best way possible.

Jey's fingers went faster, making you open your eyes and throw your head back with a groan. Your eyes snapped open again and the breath was knocked out of you when you met Jey's eyes, the raw desire in his hungry gaze and the way he looked at you like he just wanted to eat you up made you feel like you were coming apart.

"I said keep your eyes open. I ain't gonna tell you again, got that?" You nodded, arching your neck, offering it to him as he continued to trail kisses along your throat, feeling you clench around him even more at his demanding tone.

“Oh, you like that shit, huh?” You couldn't help but let out a soft, sultry moan at his cocky tone as Jey's lips and tongue worked their magic on your sensitive skin. "I love it," you purred, your moans growing louder and louder with each slow but deliberate and delicious thrust.

"I'm yours, Jey, all yours." His lips found their way to your ear, and he bit your earlobe playfully, making you shiver and clench on him even more.

"You’re damn right." he growled. "You've always been mine, baby. It's just taken us a little while to realize it."

You felt yourself getting closer and closer, and his words didn't help the matter, they only pushed you further to the edge. Your walls clenched tightly around his cock, his thrusts speeding up more and more as Jey chased for both your releases.

"Jey," you gasped, your voice strained and needy that you trusted only him to hear. "I'm close. I'm so close."

Jey let out a rough groan against your ear, his movements growing more and more urgent as he chased his own release. "Hold it, baby," he rasped, his voice strained with reaching both your pleasures. "Hold it for me, just a little longer." He quickened his pace, the sound of your moans and the slap of skin against skin echoing in the small space.

A few tears escaped your eyes as you tried to hold, every muscle in your body tense and trembling. "You’re doing so good, baby," Jey murmured, his own voice shaky with need as he tried to control himself. "Just a little more, sweetheart."

You nodded, our breath hitching as the sensation grew almost unbearable. He thrusted into you one, two, three times, until you were too out of it to count and could barely breathe, sweat glistening on both your bodies.

"Jey, I can't hold on much longer. Please…" You begged, your body on the verge of shattering and your fingers clawing at his back, leaving red scratch marks against his tattooed skin.

Jey was barely holding back himself, his control slipping as he brought his head to the crook of your neck, groaning sexily against your skin. "Go on, baby," he whispered hoarsely, his hips moving erratically as as you were teetering on the edge.

"Let go for me, baby. Let it all out."

His sexy whispers were what pushed you over the edge. Everything turned white, and you saw stars as you came hard, your body shaking from the force of it. You didn't remember anything but the wave of pleasure that washed over you, the way Jey held you through it all, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

The feeling of your orgasm and seeing you come undone before him was Jey's undoing. He groaned deeply as he came, closing his eyes and biting your shoulder as he shuddered, releasing inside you and trying not to float away and savor this moment forever, trying to ingrain your bodies, your moans, and the feeling of your tightness around him into his memory forever.

He held you close, both of you riding out your climaxes. You breathed heavily, trying to not slip away and leave this moment. Jey placed tender kisses alongside your neck and shoulder, his hands caressing your back soothingly to bring you back to him.

"I can feel you getting away, come back to me." Jey's soft voice helped you snap back to reality. Your eyes met his, and he was gazing at you with so much love and tenderness that it took your breath away. You couldn't help but bring your lips to his in a tender kiss your hearts pounding in sync as you melted into each other, not wanting to let each other go.

Jey pulled away from the kiss, his eyes locked onto yours as he brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle and loving. "Hope that the wait was worth it."

You chuckled at his words, leaning in for another sweet kiss. "Oh, it was definitely worth it, Jey. You have your work cut out for you, cause I'm not letting you go now."

Jey's eyes lit up with a mixture of relief and happiness as he held you close, your bodies pressed against each other. "Good, 'cause I'm not planning on going anywhere, baby." He whispered, sealing his promise with a kiss. You grabbed the back of his head, deepening the kiss, not getting enough of his addicting taste, and when he slipped his tongue between your lips, you welcomed him eagerly.

Jey pulled away before things had gotten too heated. He rested his forehead against yours, both of you trying to catch your breath.

"As much as I want to, if I kiss you again we won't be leaving this closet anytime soon," he said with a soft chuckle. You let out a breathy laugh, still trying to catch your breath.

"You're right," you admitted, your fingers gently tracing along Jey' s jawline. "It's not my fault that you're so irresistible."

Jey grinned at your words, nuzzling your nose affectionately. "I can say the same thing about you sweetheart. But we need to go or Jimmy will call the cops looking for us if he notices how long we’ve been gone.” You pouted, but reluctantly nodded and Jey moved off of you, making you hold in a whine at the emptiness. You stood up, or tried to- almost falling over if it weren’t for Jey quickly catching you from eating dust.

“Damn, I fucked you that good, huh? Jey chuckled cockily, steading you on your feet. "They don't call me ucey jucey for nothing baby.

You giggled at his cockiness. "You definitely did, Mr. Uso." You leaned in to kiss him again before leaning away from him and putting on your clothes, him doing the same with a smug grin on his face.

“What are you smiling for?” You asked once the both of you were dressed, his hand outstretched for you. Jey's smirk never faded as he took your hand, lacing his fingers with yours.

“I’m smiling cause now I can officially call you my girl. Before it was just a matter of time, baby girl, but now it's official." He brought your hand to his lips, making you smile uncontrollably when he kissed the back of it.

"And you're my man, and you better not forget it." You interlaced your fingers with his, letting Jey lead you out the closet, his hand squeezing yours as you checked if the coast was clear before yanking him out, making him giggle at the force you used.

"Damn, you tryna take me out before I even take you out?" Jey teased, his laughter filling the hallway as you playfully punched his arm.

"No, I'm making sure no one sees us so we don't get in trouble with the higher ups, dumbass." You punched his arm again, making him chuckle even more. "I can't believe how much of an ass you are."

Jey feigned offense, putting a hand over his heart as you both continued down the hallway. "Hey, I'm a gentleman, baby girl."

You rolled your eyes, but there was an affectionate smile playing on your lips. "Yeah, you're such a gentleman, 'ucey jucey'." Jey grinned, unfazed by your teasing. He was used to it, making fun of him was one of your love languages.

"Well, you're the one who can't get enough of this 'ucey jucey,' so I must be doing something right." You went to punch him again, but this time he dodged it, grabbing your other hand and holding it in his, his grin turning into a serious expression as he looked at you with genuine affection in his eyes.

"But I want to be a gentleman to you, and treat you right, y'know?" Jey's voice softened as he spoke, his thumb caressing the back of your hand. "I wanna take you out, give you everything you deserve, be the man you deserve, if you'll let me." You smiled at his words, feeling your heart swell with warmth.

"Of course I'll let you, Jey. There's no one else I'd want to be with." You leaned in and gave him a sweet, lingering kiss. ""I know you'll treat me right."

Jey smiled against your lips at your words, returning the kiss with the same level of tenderness. When he pulled back, he cupped your cheek with his hand and looked deeply into your eyes. "I'm gonna do my damn best to be the man you deserve, baby girl." You couldn't stop the wide smile that spread across your face as you looked back at Jey. "And I'm gonna do my best to be the woman you deserve, Jey." You gave him another kiss, your hearts full with happiness with the love you showed each other.

"But seriously, we gotta leave before we get caught making out in the hallway." You whispered as you teared yourself away from Jey's lips. Jey chuckled softly and reluctantly pulled away from you. "Yeah, I don't wanna be giving nobody a free show when they don't deserve it."

You giggled and let go of his hand and grabbed his arm, wrapping it around your shoulders. He raised his eyebrow, and you leaned into him before explaining. "Let's not tell anyone right now… they'll probably guess why we were gone for so long. But I still want you to hold me, so this is a win win."

Jey grinned and held you close as you walked together, his arm draped over your shoulders. "That's my smart girl." You grinned at that, you would never get sick of him calling you his girl.

As you guys made your way to the bloodline's Locker room, you passed Liv in the hallway. She wiggled her eyebrows, giving you an 'I told you so' look that you responded to with a wink, making her giggle. She exaggeratingly waved to Jey, making you both chuckle as you continued down the hallway, your secret safe for now.

Jey let you go when you arrived in front of the locker room, his hand on the small of your back guiding you in the room burning your skin. Jimmy was sitting on the couch and Roman was seated in his chair, looking up at the noise. His piercing stare made you feel like he was staring directly into your soul, like he could see right through you.

"You were right out there about the Bloodline being on top- and the only way we can stay on top is if we are united." Roman's stare never left you, his glare suffocating all the air out of the room. But you were used to it, being apart of the bloodline meant having to deal with Roman at his best, and mostly at his worst.

"We can't stay on top if we aren't united. So is whatever animosity between you and Jey settled?" You met his hard glare with one of your own, but Jey's hand on your back made you turn to him.

"It's settled, uce." You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, he never interrupted Roman's briefings before. Roman turned his glare to Jey, his eyes flickering to his hand on your back. You could feel the tension between the two of them.

"I asked her." Roman then turned to you, and his gaze bore into you with intensity. "Is it settled?" You met Roman's penetrating stare and nodded firmly, not breaking eye contact. "It's settled, Roman." Roman's gaze held yours for a few more seconds, as if he was searching for any sign of deception. Satisfied with your response, he finally nodded, his expression relenting just a fraction.

"Good. That's what I like to hear." He gestured you to sit, and you took a seat, Jey sitting beside you, his eyes never leaving Romans until you nudged him, and he turned his attention back to you.

"Alright, let's get back to our game plan..." Roman's voice filled the room, but your mind was only half there as Jey's hand trailed up your back, rubbing slow circles that warmed you up.

After the meeting was over, Roman allowed everyone to disperse, but when Jey wrapped an arm around you to leave, Roman stopped Jey with a stern look. “Jey, I need to talk with you for a minute.”

Jey whipped around to face Roman, his expression guarded when he looked at him, and you couldn’t school what he was thinking. “Then talk to me.”

Romans eyes flickered to you and Jimmy before meeting Jey’s gaze, his voice dropping lower. "Alone."

Jey exchanged a quick glance with you, and you nodded, squeezing his hand reassuringly.

"It's okay, Jey. I’m not going anywhere.” Jey hesitated, his gaze shifting to you and Roman before nodding, giving your hand a final squeeze before turning to Roman. “Let’s talk, uce.” You watched Jey and Roman walk away, a knot of worry forming in your stomach.

Jimmy sensed your concern and moved closer to you, giving you a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry ‘bout them, Roman ain’t mad, he just making sure everything’s good.”

You smiled back at him, his words reassuring you somewhat. Jimmy then teasingly nudged you, wiggling his eyebrows. “You and Jey made up real good, huh? Ya’ll were gone for a long time.”

You rolled your eyes at his teasing and chuckled, trying not to blush. “Whatever you are thinking, stop thinking it. We just talked it out, that’s all we did.”

Jimmy smirked, giving you another playful nudge. “Sure, just talkin’. I know that look, and it ain’t just from talking.”

You swatted his arm at his words, making him yelp and pout. as he rubbed his arm. "Alright, alright, damn you can hit."

You laughed at how dramatic he was being, thankful he lightened the mood up.

"Okay, okay, no need for violence," he teased, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "But seriously, I'm happy you guys worked things out. You and Jey, you're good for each other."

You smiled warmly at him, touched by his words. "You really think that?" Jimmy nodded, his expression sincere and honest.

"Yeah, I do. I've been by Jey's side since we were babies, and I ain't never seen him ever smile the way he do when he's with you. You make him happy and that's all I ever want for my brother."

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at Jimmy's words, and you brought him into a hug, hoping he felt how much you cared for him through how tight you were hugging him.

"Thank you, Jimmy. I want to keep making him happy too. He hugged you just as tight, patting your back in a brotherly manner, smiling into you. "You're welcome , uce. You're family. Just keep making my brother happy, and we're all good."

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly as you pulled back, grinning at Jimmy. "I'll try my best, but if you become a little less of an ass I I think that would help too."

Jimmy laughed, giving you a playful shove. "Ay, now you asking for too much." The two of you laughed, and it was at that moment that Roman and Jey returned, walking out of the office and joining you in the room.

Roman's expression was composed, and when Jey glanced at you, his face was unreadable, and you couldn't see what he was feeling. But he couldn't hide his feelings from his twin when he looked at him.

Jimmy gazed at him, and a silent communication passed between them, and Jimmy nodded at Jey as if he understood something that you didn't.

Roman's voice broke through the tension. "Everyone understands how important it is that the Bloodline remains strong. No more arguing, no more disagreements, no more room for doubts, or there will be consequences. Everyone got that?"

You all nodded, and he seemed satisfied until he turned back to Jey, glare back on his face. "Did you get that, Jey?" Jey met his gaze with an equally fierce glare, reluctantly nodding. "I got that." Roman held Jey's gaze for a moment longer, then nodded, seemingly content with the response.

"Alright then. You're all free to go, Tribal Chiefs orders."

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding as you left the room, Jey and Jimmy following behind. 

Jey's hand found its way around your shoulder once again, bringing you close to him as you walked down the hallway. 

"I can hear you thinking, babe." Jey commented, his voice low and soothing as he leaned in closer to you. "Everything's fine, trust me. He was just tryna sort me out, and we're all good now."

You sensed there was something more to the conversation, but you didn't want to push, you knew he'd come to you when he was ready. "I trust you, if you say it's fine, then it's fine."

Jey smiled at your response, a genuine and affectionate smile.  He brought you closer to his side, rubbing up and down your arm. "Thank you for understanding , sweetheart. I don't want you worrying about any of this."

You leaned into him, giving him a bright smile. "Of course, Jey." You grinned at him before seeing the exit and realizing you didn't have your bags on you. "Can ya'll wait up for me though? I need to get my stuff from the ladies locker room." 

Jey nodded, his hand still warm and comforting on your arm. "No problem, babe. Take your time, we'll be right here." You gave both of them a dazzling smile before leaving.  as soon as you were out of earshot Jimmy shot Jey a confused glare. "Why you ain't tell her the truth?"

Jey let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. "This are finally good between us again, and I aint' wanna stress her out, she's got enough on her plate as it is. I gotta do what I gotta do to protect her, no matter what. I ain't mind taking Roman's anger for her, no way in hell I'ma let him put his hands on her."

Jimmy sighed, studying Jey's expression. "She's gon' be pissed at you for taking the brunt of Roman's shit, you know that? She ain't gonna like it if she finds out you're keeping this stuff from her."

Jey's jaw tightened, knowing his brother was right. He didn't want to hide things from you, but he also didn't want to put any unnecessary stress on you. You didn't deserve that. "I know, Jimmy. But I'll figure it out. Right now, I just need to keep her safe."

Jimmy had a worried look on his face as he clasped his brother's shoulder. "Just be careful, Jey. You know how stubborn and protective she can be. When she finds out, she's ain't gonna be happy."

Jey bit his lip, his gaze distant. He knew he was walking a fine line, but in his heart, he believed he was doing what was best for you. "Then I'll make right with her when the time is right. But for now, I need to protect her." He let out a heavy sigh and his shoulders slumped. "And maybe take the heat for a while, so she doesn't have to."

Jimmy understood where his brother was coming from, he truly did, but  he couldn't shake the feeling of unease. He knew things might go south once you found out about it, and he didn't want you and Jey to go to a bad place. he couldn't shake the feeling of unease. He gave Jey's shoulder a supportive squeeze, making him look at him, his eyes filled with concern.

"Look, uce, I get why you're doin' this, but she gon' find out sooner or later, and she deserves to know the truth. You're just gonna have to be honest with her, no matter how hard it is."

Jey let out a deep breath, his brother's words sinking in. He knew Jimmy was right, and he couldn't keep this from you forever. "I know, Jimmy." He admitted, a sense of resignation in his voice. "I'll tell her, when the time is right. But for now, I need to protect her. She's been through enough."

Jimmy nodded, squeezing Jey's shoulder once more. "Just don't wait too long, uce, or it'll be too late by the time you tell her."

Jey absorbed his brother's words, a serious expression on his face. He knew his brother was right, he couldn't put off telling you forever, but for now he needed to shield you from any harm, all means necessary.  "I won't, Jimmy. I promise." 

Jimmy knew his brother was telling the truth, and with that he nodded, squeezing his shoulder one last time before dapping him up.

They heard the clacking of your heels and turned around, seeing you with your bags walking up to them. You grinned at them as you approached. "Thanks for waiting, guys. Ready to go?"

Jey nodded, grabbing one of your bags and slinging it over his shoulder with ease. "Of course, babe. Let's get you home." He looked back at Jimmy. "You coming with us or doing your own thing?"

Jimmy shook his head, giving you a warm smile. "I'm gonna head out and grab some food, uce. You guys have fun."

"Be safe, Jim!"

"Ya'll too. No funny business while I'm not around!" Jimmy yelled out as he went the other way, making you stick out the middle finger at him, making both Jimmy and Jey burst out laughing.

As Jey linked your arm with his as you both made your way out of the arena, he knew all he wanted was you like this, in his arms, with him, no matter what. You made him smile, made everything in his life feel better, made every moment of hell on earth turn into a heaven designed only for him.

And he knew he was taking a risk, keeping things from you, keeping the anger away from you, but every time he thought like that he remembered your cries that night in the hotel, the anguish on your face that he wanted nothing more to take away from you.

And if keeping things from you meant you'd never face that anguish again, that he'd be able to keep that smile on your face for as long as he could, he would do it again and again and again as long as you kept smiling at him like the world was in his eyes.

He'd just hope you'd forgive him for it.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Moment Five

"I thought we talked about shutting each other out sweetheart." Jey sighed across the room as he watched you fix up your hair in the mirror, his gaze locking with yours in the reflection.

"We talked about you not shutting me out, not the other way around." You continued to fix your hair, trying not to look at him, making him sigh again.

"It goes both ways, sweetheart. You said we need to communicate better, but you ain't talking to me." Jey walked over to you, his body pressing against you as he stood behind you, his arms encircling your waist. You tried to move out of his arms and ignore his warm body against yours, but he tightened his grip on you, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"What is there to talk about? I lost, that's it." You snipped, continuing brushing your hair until Jey's hand slid the brush gently from your hand.

"Try again, and this time tell me the truth." You huffed, trying not to look at him and ignore his captivating gaze in the mirror. "I am telling the truth. What more is there is to talk about? I moved on from it, and you should to." Jey planted a gentle kiss on your neck at your words, his lips lingering there for a moment.

"I can't move on until you can. And you can lie to everyone else all you want, but you can't lie to me sweetheart." he whispered, his voice laced with concern.

You finally turned to face him, meeting his deep, searching eyes. You saw the worry and love in them, and it tugged at your heart. "I let you down.... I let everyone else down. You saw what happened, I let that bitch Bianca take it...." Your voice wavered slightly, and you breathed deeply, trying to compose yourself. Jey was patient, kissing at your neck while he waited for you to find the words to describe your pain. "I failed… you know it, the fans know it, and Roman knows it.." You remembered the night all too well.

It was Night of Champions, and you and Bianca were putting on a classic, reversing moves left and right and the crowd was on their feet.

You had Bianca right where you wanted her, her laying on the ground completely helpless, with you smirking at her, ready to finish her. You climbed the turnbuckle, ready to hit your finisher on her and make her regret ever stepping up to you and challenging you for your title.

Then, out of nowhere, Bayley came out of the crowd, hitting you with a steel chair and throwing you harshly into the ring mat, making you hit the mat hard, your back arching in pain. You and her had been in a on and off feud for months, but even you didn't see this coming.

The ref didn't see it, but Bianca did, and she capitalized on it, picking you up in the K.O.D and pinning you for the three count, the bell ringing echoing through the arena.

When you came to the back after, ignoring everyone else's congratulations for how good your match was. You went inside the locker room, and Roman's expression in the ring mirrored your own. Disappointment, frustration, and perhaps a hint of anger flashed across his face. And you felt the same way.

And Jimmy kicking him in the face after he was finally fed up with Roman's bullshit didn't make the situation any better. You pushed aside your own emotions to calm Roman and Solo down, and any inner turmoil you had was shrunken down when you saw Jey's red eyes and his body shaking from all the emotions and adrenaline racing through him. You held him then, whispering sweet nothings and leading him to the locker room.

And you held him throughout the night, running your fingers through his hair and letting him hold you so tight you felt your skin against his start to bruise. He didn't say anything, but brought you on top of him and buried his face into your shoulder, trying to shield himself from the outside world. You held him in the darkness, comforting him in a way only you could, seeing him in a way only he would allow you to.

And in the morning, when the rays of dawn began to filter through the cracks in the curtains, and it was time to get back on the road again, Jey tried to do the same for you, but you didn't let him. You could handle it yourself, Jey was more important.

You simply brushed the hair out of his face, pressing a kiss to his cheek, letting him hold onto you a little more until you had to leave for the airport. And yeah, coping by yourself wasn't the smartest thing to do, but you've dealt with losses by yourself before, so you could do it again.

Except Jey wasn't letting you handle it by yourself. He would try to coax you into opening up, in the morning and at night, in the quiet moments in between.  But you'd push him away, telling him that you were fine, that you needed to focus on getting back on track. 

Jey's voice brought you back to the present, his fingers gently tracing along your jawline, his touch grounding you. "Baby, you can't keep blaming yourself for stuff you can't control. We talked about this."

You bit your lip, biting so hard that it stung, just like your heart was stinging.

“But I could have controlled it. I should have seen it coming, Jey. I should have been prepared. But I wasn’t. And I let everyone down because of it.” You shut your eyes, not wanting to see his reaction.

You pushed out of Jey’s arms, sliding down and leaning on the edge of the locker. The cold metal bit into your palms, but it was grounding in a different way.

Jey slid down next to the locker with you. He let the silence stretch for a moment, knowing how bad this was eating at you and that sometimes words were not enough. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, and looked up at him when his hand gently hovered yours on the floor, and you gave him a nod, letting him intertwine his fingers with yours, his thumb rubbing comforting circles against your skin to try and get you to open up.

As you looked at him, the floodgates of your emotions threatened to burst. You took a deep breath, Jey's grip on your hand the only thing keeping you in check.

"It's just... I feel like I failed, Jey," you admitted, steeling yourself to composure. "And don't lie to me and say I didn't, because I saw it in Roman's face, in Jimmy's and Solo's eyes, I saw it in your expression." You fiddled with Jey's fingers, trying to find solace in his touch. "I hate that feeling, Jey. It's like a weight in my chest that won't go away. No matter what I do, it won't go away."

You choked on the last few words, not being able to speak. Jey thought that was enough for you, and he reached out, gently pulling you into his lap, his arms wrapped securely around you, allowing you to bury your face in his neck, inhaling his comforting scent and gripping onto him for dear life.

His hands rubbed your back as he let you cling to him, his voice soft and reassuring. "I ain't never gonna not be proud of you. And I know that night didn't go your way, and trust me, that night was tough for all of us. But what's tougher is seeing you beat yourself up over it."

Jey's lips softly pressed against your neck, his kisses tender and comforting. "It wasn't your fault, and i'on want you to keep thinking that it is. You did your best, stole the show and it ain't your fault you didn't get the dub, it's Bayley's. And you'll get your lick back on her, but you gotta take care of yourself first if you wanna do that."

Your grip on Jey loosened your body relaxing in his embrace at his calming words. He spoke with such love, such sincerity that even your overthinking irrational brain had to listen. You let his words wash over you, letting them seep into your soul and psyche, let them help you breathe for the first time in what felt like forever. He always had a way of bringing you out of your own head, understanding you in a way that few did. And in that moment, it was exactly what you needed.

You lifted your head from his neck, meeting Jey's gaze, your eyes still glistening with unshed tears. "I'm just… scared, Jey. Scared that I'll never be good enough, that I'll always be haunted by that one loss," you confessed, your voice quivering with vulnerability. "Scared that I'll let you down again."

Jey's eyes softened even more at your confession, and he tenderly brushed a strand of hair away from your face. His thumb traced along your cheekbone, his touch tender as hebrushed a strand of hair away from your face. "Baby, you are good enough. You've proven it every single time you've given it your all, every time you step into that ring. All them other ladies can't compare to you, and that's the truth."

He held your gaze as his thumb traced along your cheekbone, his touch gentle and reassuring and his brown eyes filled with love and understanding. "As for letting me down, that can never happen. You've been holding us up, sweetheart. You're the reason we're all still standing strong. And no matter what happens out there, win or lose, you're still the one I'm proud to call mine."

You had a watery smile tugging at your lips, your heart swelling with love for Jey. You cupped his face and brought him into a kiss, trying to convey all your unspoken emotions through the tender kiss.

He responded in kind, melting into you and giving you a sweet kiss trying to convey how much he graved for you through the gentle press of his lips. When you pulled away, your breaths mingling in the small space between you, you couldn't help but smile.

"Thank you, Jey. I needed that, needed you."

Jey smiled back at you, his eyes shining with affection. "You don't have to thank me, sweetheart. I'm always here for you," he whispered, his voice warm and reassuring.

It made you want to kiss him again in thanks, but before you could a knock sounded at the door, and a loud voice came from outside the room. "Your Tribal Chief has brought me to inform you our segment starts in 5 minutes. So if I were you, I'd get a hurry on, cause he is not in a mood to be bothered and crossed."

You moved off of Jey, rolling your eyes at Paul's annoying voice. "We'll be there Paul, don't worry. Give me a minute." You called out, sharing a look with Jey as you dusted yourself off, trying not to look like you were on the verge of crying or sucking face with Jey just a minute ago.

No one knew about your relationship, not even Jimmy. The two of you wanting to take it slow, and you wanted to keep it that way for the time being. No meddling, no one in your business, no pressure. Sure, it was hard when one of you got jealous, but the two of you knew each other in and out and knew when to reassure the other.

Jey stood up, his hand gently squeezing yours before he moved towards the door, opening it and giving Paul a look of annoyance that had you internally giggling.

"We're coming, Paul. You don't have to babysit us." Jey grumbled, letting you walk ahead of him.

"Good, because I have more important things to do than babysitting you fiend of besties." Paul huffed, leading you all to the ramp where Solo and Roman were waiting, Solo leaning against the barricade and Roman pacing back and forth, an irritated expression etched on his face.

"Finally," Roman grumbled, eyeing you both. "Let's get this over with and make them acknowledge me."

You exchanged a glance with Jey and Solo before moving into position with everybody else, putting on your best smile for the camera as Roman's music hit. You strutted confidently as you all made your way down to the ring, the roar of the crowd echoing around you as you all posed for the cameras. Jey held open the ropes for you as you stepped into the ring, his eyes never leaving you.

"Acknowledge me!" Roman began, his authoritative voice capturing the attention of the crowd.

"We all saw what happened at Night of Champions, other's rose to the occasion, while other's failed to rise up to their expectations." You shied away from the jab and pointed look Roman was giving you. Jey noticed and wrapped an arm around your shoulder, glaring at Roman. You leaned into him, grateful for his silent support.

"But other's decided to try and drag people down with them into the descent of their own failures, and that is exactly what Jimmy did to me and Solo. He betrayed me, he betrayed Solo, he betrayed all of us! The people who helped him get to the top are the same people he didn't hesitate to throw under the bus!" Roman's eyes darkened with anger as he spoke, shoulders bunched with anger.

He turned to you, Jey and Solo, pointing at each one of you. "Solo, your own brother cost you that tag team match. Your own older brother!"

He turned to you, pointing at you furiously. "He betrayed you too, stabbed you in the back without a second thought, all because he was jealous he didn't have a title."

He finally turned to Jey, who was silently brooding and glared up at Roman when he turned to him. "And Jey… your own twin brother left you, hurt you, left you hanging all because he was jealous of our success." Jey's grip on your shoulder tightened, his jaw clenching as he stared Roman down.

"But don't worry, that will all change. Jimmy will regret what he did, will regret trying to bring the Bloodline down for his own agenda. But most importantly, he will regret messing with the Tribal Chief. And trust me, I will make him acknowledge me-"

Jimmy's music suddenly cut through the arena, interrupting Roman's speech. The look on Roman's face was downright furious. Jimmy stormed down the ring, that same look of fury in his eyes as he entered the ring.

"I am sick and tired of your bullshit, Roman," Jimmy spat, standing toe to toe with Roman. "You keep lying, and lying, and lying! You are the only cause of all this chaos. You only have yourself to blame for what happened. Cause you know what?"

Jimmy locked eyes with him, anger running through his veins. "I don't regret a single thing I did that night. And you wanna know why?"

Roman's voice was laced with venom, his nostrils flaring as he stared down his brother. "Why is that, Jimmy?"

Jimmy leaned in closer, their faces inches apart, his voice low and full of conviction. "Because I had to stop you from dragging everyone down with you and having you becoming even more of a narrcastic asshole that you are. You were willing to hurt us all for your own damn ego, Roman. You've been doing that for 3 fucking years, and you know what? I got sick of it!"

Roman's glare bore into Jimmy, and you could practically feel the seething anger radiating off him. "You've always been the weak link, Jimmy. I've done nothing but carry this family on my back, give you all the opportunities you have. And this is how you repay me? By turning your back on your own blood?"

Jimmy chuckled angrily, not backing down from Roman."Carry this family? You are delusional as always, uce. You never cared about anyone but yourself. You only care about being the 'Tribal Chief' and having everyone bow down to you. Well, I'm not gonna do that anymore. I'm not gonna let you control us, use us, and then toss us aside when we don't do what you want us to do.

The two men stared at each other with fiery intensity, Roman's fists clenched at his sides, and Jimmy's knuckles white from the force of his grip.

"You were always jealous, weren't you?" Roman asked mockingly, Jealous that I was always the one to lead, the one to make the decisions, the one to take the Bloodline to the top. You never had the guts to do what it takes, Jimmy. You were always content being in my shadow, following my lead. You never even had the guts to be my right hand man like Jey."

Roman gestured to Jey, who looked conflicted as he stood nearby, torn between his loyalty to both his brothers. "You were jealous you never had the power like my right hand woman."

Roman pointed at you, and your own conflicted eyes, his words dripping with spite.

"But you know what, Jimmy? You can never be me. You'll always be the lesser Uso, the one who couldn't measure up." Jimmy's face contorted with a mix of rage and hurt at his words.

"You're wrong, Roman. I ain't jealous of you. I'm disgusted by you. You've done nothing but bring us all down to bring you up, and sooner or later everyone else will see it too." He gestured to you, Jimmy and Solo, you and Jey having a smiliar expression of concern on your face while Solo had his typical stoic look on his, arms clenched like he was ready for a fight.

Roman followed his gaze, looking at the three of you for a long moment before turning back to Jimmy and bursting out in laughter, a mocking and humorless sound that echoed through the arena.

"You really think they'll leave me for you, Jimmy? You really think they'll choose you over the Tribal Chief, over the one who's been leading this family to greatness?" Roman laughed again, shaking his head in disbelief. "How about you guys tell him what you really think? Tell him what a mistake he's making." Roman turned to you, Jey, and Solo, his gaze piercing through you all.

You spoke up first, trying not to look at Jimmy's pleading gaze but it was futile. "Look... Jimmy, I get why you're mad. The titles, the pressure, it's all getting to you. But…" You looked conflicted, your heart torn in two different directions. "Roman is right. You made your choice, and now you have to live with it."

Jimmy looked like he gotten slapped in the face at your words, his hurt showing on his face making your heart clench. Roman started cackling again, the sound making your heart ache even more.

Jimmy's eyes bore into yours, wounded and betrayed. "I thought you'd understand out of all people," he muttered, his voice heavy with disappointment. "I thought you had my back."

Roman smirked, patting you on the back and giving you a proud smile. "You see, she sees the truth you are blinding yourself from. What about you Jey? How do you feel?"

Jey stepped up, his heart heavy as he gazed at his twin, his pleading eyes filled with sorrow. Jey turned back to you, sharing a glance with you that spoke more than words could before turning back to his brother.

"Jimmy, you know I love you. And you know I always have your back. But I also have Roman's back too." He extended his hand to Roman, who took it smiling, dapping him up. Jimmy watched on with an ache in his heart. "He's the one who made me , the one who turned me into main event Jey Uso!" Jey exclaimed, Roman patting him on the back proudly.

"And now… you're out of the bloodline." You and Jey exchanged one more look, and you knew what you needed to do.

"And I'm out too!" Roman's smirk dropped, but before he could speak he was getting super kicked by Jey, sending him sprawling to the mat.

Solo moved quickly, trying to attack Jey but you super kicked him in the jaw, sending him stumbling back. A smile made its way onto Jimmy's face as he joined the fight, helping you beat down Solo as Jey speared Roman, your mind finally at peace as you finally left the Bloodline, leaving the one person that always tormented you, getting your sweet sweet revenge.

You grabbed a mic and walked towards a fallen Roman, who was lying on the mat, breathing heavily and clutching his stomach. You grabbed at his hair harshly and tugged , forcing him to look up at you.

"You thought I forgot everything that you put me through, Roman?" you spat, your voice dripping with venom. "All those years of manipulation, of making me feel small and insignificant? Well, guess what? It ends now." Your grip on his hair tightened as Jimmy and Jey looked on in satisfaction at Roman finally getting what he deserved.

"I choose my family, and you were never a part of it. And now you are all alone, and I'm out the Bloodline, " you declared, letting go of him in disgust and throwing the mic to the ground. You felt arms wrap around you, and looked up to see Jey smiling down at you with absolute pride in his eyes as you finally took control, finally stood up to the man who had abused him for months. Abused and tormented you for months. Jey felt a sink sense of glee watching him be hurt like this, hurt like the way he used to hurt and belittle you.

Jimmy hugged you both when you all walked up the ramp, unshed tears of relief in his eyes as you were squeezed by both men so tight you could barely breathe.

"We did it." Jimmy whispered into your skin as he squeezed you tighter. You nodded back, just as emotional. You did it. Finally fucking did it. You stood up to the most, abusive manipulative and emotionally draining man you'd ever fucking met.

Jey was on your other side, his smile never fading as he held onto you both. "We're free, uce. We're finally free."

The crowd's cheers echoed in your ears, but you could barely hear it over the poouding of your own heart. As you held up the ones, basking in the moment, you finally felt that weight on your heart release, and you realized that it wasn't you putting that weight on yourself, it was Roman.

And as Roman glared at you from across the ring, you promised yourself you'd get rid of that weight, no matter what.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Ay, all your shots on me, uce!" Jimmy's rambunctious voice yelled throughout the bar as you danced, the music pulsating you and the alcohol coursing through your veins as you danced with Liv, her arms around your waist as you moved to the beat with her, giggling like a couple of schoolgirls.

After your revenge on Roman, Jimmy insisted on the three of you going to a local bar to celebrate and let off some steam, and lord knows you deserved to let off some steam. You and Jey needed no convincing, you ordering an Uber and heading straight to the liveliest bar you could find, inviting Liv to tag along with you.

The bar was dimly lit, with neon signs casting colorful glows across the worn wooden floors. Jimmy was already drunk as hell, dancing all over the tables and acting like a complete goof. You and Liv were already a bit tipsy, her insistence on taking a shot every time Jimmy did something stupid being the cause of that.

And Jey couldn't take his eyes of you, tipsy as well but not as much as you and Liv as he sat back at a corner booth, a contented smile on his face as he kept an eye on his twin and watched you enjoy yourself. You deserved this, to let loose and have a good time after everything you'd been through.

Liv wrapped her arms around you, bringing you to a different section of the bar and grabbing you both more fruity drinks you couldn't get enough of.

"I'm so glad you finally got rid of that toxic asshole and finally decided to act your age and party!"

You giggled, the warmth of the alcohol making you feel lighter than air. "I'm glad too. And I finally decided to take your advice and enjoy my twenties before I end up an old women like you."

Liv playfully gasped, clutching her heart dramatically." Hey, I'm not that old!" Liv protested with a mocking glare, making the two of you burst out in giggles. "But seriously, it's about time you let loose and had some fun. You've earned it."

You smiled at her words, clinking your glass with hers. "You're right. Cheers to new beginnings!" You toasted, the clinking of your glasses ringing through the air. Liv grinned back at you, her eyes sparkling with happiness for you.

"Cheers to that!" She cheered with you, taking a sip of her drink. Her eyes wandered around the bar before finally meeting your own, a mischievous glimmer in them. "And speaking of having some fun… Jey has been eyeing you all night, y'know?"

You felt your cheeks warm up as you followed Liv's gaze back to Jey, who was still sitting in the corner booth, watching you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine that you both loved and hated at the same time. Did he have to make it so obvious?

You turned back to her, a nervous smile on your face. "You're imagining things," you replied with a nervous giggle, taking another sip of your drink. "He's probably just making sure I'm not drunk out of my ass. Y'know, typical best friend duties."

Liv narrowed her eyes at you, mockingly accusing. "Uh-huh, sure. Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart."

You rolled your eyes playfully, knowing Liv had a talent for picking up subtle cues and interpreting them in not-so-subtle ways. You couldn't risk her finding out about you and Jey, even though she was drunk she was still Liv and could figure it out at the drop of a hat. So you decided to change the subject.

"Alright, Sherlock Holmes, what about you? Anyone caught your eye lately?" you teased, trying to divert the attention away from you.

Liv smirked, taking a sip of her drink. "Maybe… maybe not. But that's a story for another time. Right now, it's all about you and Jey. Seriously, though, you should talk to him. He's been giving you that 'I'm gonna jump your bones' look all night."

You choked on your drink, eyes wide. "Liv! Don't say things like that!"

She burst into laughter, slapping your back gently. "I'm not lying though! Ya'll have mad sexual tension, and it's honestly adorable. Just talk to him, okay? Trust me, it'll be worth it."

You tried to hide your smile, knowing you and Jey already solved that problem, but she and anyone else didn't need to know that.

"Y'know what? If you won't call him over, I will." Your eyes widened in amusement and laughter as Liv waved at Jey, beckoning him to come over. Jey looked a little startled but then gave you a knowing smile before excusing himself from the booth and making his way over to where you and Liv were standing.

"How are you fine ladies doing?" Jey's voice was smooth as he not so subtly checked you out, making you internally groan as Liv clocked it, making her practically beam in excitement.

“We're doing good Jey. But this one," Liv wrapped her arm around your waist, "wants to jump your bones just as much as you want to jump hers.”

You blushed furiously, shooting Liv a playful glare. Jey, on the other hand, seemed amused by the whole situation. He leaned in closer to you, his warm breath brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Is that so?"

You tried to compose yourself from your boyfriend's teasing, ignoring Liv's laughter from next to you. "Maybe. You need to show me your moves before we can confirm anything though."

Jey's playful smirk widened, his hand gently grazing your lower back. "Oh, I'm more than happy to demonstrate, sweetheart." You giggled, feeling a mixture of nerves and excitement bubbling within you. "Alright, let's see what you've got, baby."

You walked away with Jey, Liv's laughter fading into the background as the two of you made your way to the dance floor, Jey's arms making their way around your waist , pulling you close.

Jey's body grinded against yours, the music thumping in your ears as he danced in sync with you. Your body fit into his perfectly, moving together as if you'd been dancing like this forever.

"See, this isn't so bad, isn't it?" Jey whispered into your ear as he turned you, his hands sliding down your sides. You gave him a faux glare, rolling your eyes playfully.

"I'm gonna kill you after this. Are you trying to get the entire roster to know about us?"

Jey chuckled, his breath hot against your neck. "Relax, babe. I just wanna have fun with my girl. And no one's paying attention to us, trust me."

You raised an eyebrow and shot him a teasing grin. “Mhm, that’s the reason youre being so touchy. Not because you got territorial seeing everyone here and want to claim me as yours?”

Jey's playful smirk never wavered as he continued to move with you, his eyes locked onto yours. “Maybe a lil’ bit of both.” He admitted, his voice laced with desire. His hands slid sensually down your sides as the music pulsed around you. “But can you blame me? You look absolutely stunning tonight. Can’t help but want to show you off a bit.”

Your cheeks warmed at his words, he always had a way of making you feel special no matter what: it was one of the things you loved about him. "You're such a smooth talker," you teased, letting your fingers playfully trace along his jawline.

Jey's eyes twinkled with a mix of mischief and affection. "Only for you, babe," he whispered, turning you around once more before pulling you close again.

Everyone else faded away as his lips ghosted against yours, his eyes darkening with a silent question, the alcohol making your brain fuzzy and bold. Jey’s fingers grazed across your lower back, the lights of the bar reflecting in his dark brown eyes, the colors dancing in his eyes making it impossible to look away from him.

“Can I kiss you, sweetheart?” Jey asked, his voice a gentle rumble against your ear. You gazed at him, not caring about anyone or anything else. In that moment, it was just you and him, his arms around you that you felt so safe in, the thumping of the music beating to the beat of your heart, and the desire pulsing between the two of you as you looked at each other.

A small, anticipatory smile played on your lips as you met his gaze. "Please do.”

Jey didn’t need to hear that twice. He titled your chin, leaning in, and then his lips were on yours. His smirk faded as you wrapped your arms around him, deepeing the kiss and flicking your tongue against his, tasting the salty tequila he drank earlier and the taste of sweet cherry chapstick on his lips. His chain was cold against your skin as he pressed closer to you, the cold contrasting to the heat burning through your skin at Jey’s touch. The kiss was a slow burn, Jey’s lips slowly invading all your senses, his mouth swallowing every sigh of pleasure that escaped your lips. His body melted against yours when you grabbed the ends of his mullet, tugging harder when his tongue slid against yours. He swirled it in your mouth and it was like he was trying to memorize every part of your mouth.

You were dizzy off of Jey, his lips so familiar yet felt so new everytime you kissed. Your lungs burned with need for air, but you ignored it in favor of Jey’s lips that were more intoxicating than all the alcohol you drank tonight. He was your high, and you never wanted to stop being addicted to him.

He grabbed your hips, pulling you impossibly closer and grinding against you in time with the music, making you groan into his mouth. Time didn’t matter, the only thing that mattered was the heat between your thighs as Jey helped curb your addiction to him with his hands roaming across your sensitive skin and him bringing his teeth between your bottom lip in a slow, teasing bite.

His grills flashed against the dim lights, making you groan once more before pulling him in into another searing kiss, gripping onto your favorite leather jacket of his- that he also looked so sexy in-for something to ground you.

“Oh my god! I knew it!” A squealing voice made you pull away in a panic, your heart racing for a different reason as you turned to see Liv right behind you, Zelina and Raquel on her tail looking equally as drunk.

“Best friends my ass!” Liv squealed again, practically shaking in excitment. “You guys finally stopped being wusses and did something about your sexual tension!!”

“Liv, you scared the hell outta us! Practically broke my eardrum!” Liv ignored your complaints, too elated to care. She wrapped her arms around both of you in a tight, tipsy hug. I can't believe it! You two are officially a thing!"

You tried to backtrack, laughing nervously. "Liv, you’re just drunk, you didn’t see an-“

But Liv was having none of it. "Oh, please! I may be drunk, but I've got eyes, and I'm not blind! You two have been practically glowing with sexual tension for ages. It was about damn time!"

You exchanged an embarrassed glance with Jey, who was trying his best not to burst into laughter. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer, no longer caring about who saw. “You caught us, uce. And it only took you a couple months and a few tequila shots to do it."

Liv gasped at the new information while you went to punch jey in the shoulder, but he dodged it and grabbed your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours. This made Liv gasp again.

"I can't believe it! " Liv gushed, still jumping excidtley. This is… you two are… wow! Liv struggled with her words, so Zelina and Raquel spoke up for her, their smiles mirroring Liv's wide one.

"It took ya'll long enough." Zelina smirked, drinking her cocktail. "We've been placing bets on when you'd finally get together." She then turned to Raquel, her smirk widening. "Which means you owe me a hundred bucks!"

Raquel groaned, pulling out her wallet and recultanly sliding it to Zelina. "Why couldn't you guys have kept up the act a little longer? I had money riding on next month!" But she had on a smile underneath her faux anger as she looked at you and Jey's intertwined hands. "But I'm happy for you guys, honestly."

You couldn't help but smile despite your embarrassment, it warmed your heart that your friends we're happy and supportive for you, even though they could be too prying and curious for their own good. Jey leaned down and pressed a sweet kiss to your cheek,chuckling softly at the whooping from your friends at the gesture.

"We 'preciatte it, ya'll, but you mind keeping it on the down low for us? We don' need no press or rumors runnin' wild."

Your friends pouted, but nodded in understanding. No one was more annoying than the dirt sheets.

"Don't worry, we got your back!" Liv said her voice dropping to a whisper and her smile turning into a conspiratol grin. "Your secrets safe with us, chica." Zelina added, giving you an understanding smile. Raquel had a similar smile on her face, her eyes warm and supportive.

"We're here for you, both of you," Raquel reassured, her hand resting gently on your arm. "And we'll take care of Jimmy if you guys wanna leave early." She wiggled her eyebrows, making you swat her arm away with a giggle.

"We are definitely taking you up on that offer, right Jey?" Your eyes met Jey's, who was looking down at you with a soft, loving smile that dazzled your heart.

"Yeah, we definitely taking you up on that." He giggled, pulling you away from your friends and making them holler at the both of you again.

"Yeet! No take backs, uce!" Jey yelled back at them, giving his brother a wink as you passed and guiding you out the door, the chilly air wrapping around you both as you stepped out of the bar.

Jey noticed your skin break out in goosebumps and he quickly shrugged off his leather jacket, ignoring your protests and dropping it over your shoulders. It was warm, just like his eyes as he looked down at you, heart thumping with how beautiful you look in the moonlight- that dress he loved so much on you hugging all your curves the right way, your hair falling gently around your shoulders.

But most importantly, your smile that was shining brighter than any of the city lights around you that made him feel like the luckiest man alive.

"You look beautiful as hell in my leather jacket, sweetheart," Jey murmured, his voice a soft caress in the cool night air. Your cheeks warmed at his compliment, the combination of his words and jacket making you feel even more warm.

"You spoil me too much, babe." Jey chuckled softly, his hand finding its way to your cheek, his thumb gently brushing over your skin.

"Well, if you don't get used to it, I'm not doing my job right. I always wanna spoil you." His thumb caressed your soft skin, his eyes turning serious as he looked at you.

"I know I kinda didn't give you a choice considering I caused our lil' make out sesh, but are you okay with people knowing? I ain't wanna put any pressure on you, sweetheart. I understand if you're not ready for that."

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection for the man in front of you. His handsome features were softened by the streetlights, casting a warm glow on his face and making you yearn for him even more and think about how lucky you are to have bagged him. You reached up, gently tracing your fingers along his jawline, feeling the familiar stubble beneath your touch.

"Jey, I am more than ready for that, for people to know you are the one who has my heart. I'm proud to be with you, and I don't want to hide it, especially from out friends. You make me happy, and I don't want to hide my happiness anymore."

Jey's smile grew even wider, and he leaned in to kiss you softly, his lips lingering on yours for a moment before he pulled back, his eyes shining with adoration.

"You make me so fucking happy too, babe. I don't know what I did to deserve you, but I'm not letting you go. Not now, not ever."

Jey promised, punctuating his words with another kiss on your lips, the taste of his lips like a promise of forever, and you pulling him even closer and deepening the kiss was a silent agreement, and the tender slide of his tongue and the gentle arm going around your waist and squeezing out every groan from you was a vow of the love that you’d always have for each other, no matter what.

You pulled away, breathless and smiling up at Jey, your heart feeling like it might burst from the overwhelming love that filled it, and knew there was no other time to say the words you've wanted him to hear since the first moment you met. "I love you."

Jey's eyes glistened with emotion, his hand coming up to cradle your cheek. He looked at you with an intensity that took your breath away. The weight of his gaze held all the words he didn't need to say out loud. Of how many days he spent thinking about you, of how you made him laugh, how his heart fluttered every time you hugged him,  how you made him feel loved and cared for in a way he never thought possible. It was all there, in that single look.

"I love you too, sweetheart." Jey whispered, so softly that it felt like a secret meant only for the two of you. Tears glistened in your eyes, but they were tears of joy as you pulled Jey into another sweet kiss, your tears intermingling with the taste of his lips. You were sealing your love with a kiss, a promise that would forever bind your hearts together.

You both pulled away, and the look of absolute content and desire on his face was enough to make the heat between your legs come back. You let his hands roam your body,  pulling you impossibly closer as his hands explored every curve and crevice as if he was committing it all to memory, not helping the fire consuming your skin at his touch. "Jey, I need you.”

Jey's breath hitched at your words, his eyes darkening with desire. "Lemme call an uber so we can go back to the hotel and I can properly take care of you the way you deserve."

You nodded, your heart pounding in anticipatio at his words. Jey quickly fumbled for his phone, fingers tapping urgently as he ordered an Uber. In what felt like mere moments, a car arrived, and you both climbed in, Jey's hand on your thigh as the city skylines disappeared behind you. 

You shot him a look when his hand climbed higher, but Jey just smirked as he rubbed circles into your skin. 

"Relax, babe, we're almost there."  His voice was a low rumble as his hand inched even more, skimming under the hem the hem of your dress and brushing against your inner thigh, making you squirm in your seat.

Before Jey could do anything else, the car pulled up to the hotel. You both practically bolted out, Jey pulling you in  the elevator and it took everything in you to not jump his bones right then and there. Jey felt the same way, and you held in a chuckle when he kept pressing the elevator button repeatedly, frustrated with how slow it seemed to be moving. Finally, the doors opened, and you made your way to your shared room.

As soon as you were inside, Jey pinned you against the wall,  his lips crashing onto yours with a passion that been building between you all night. His teeth nibbled against your bottom lip so hard it drew blood. But you didn't mind when Jey soothed the bite with a lick, his arms going to your thighs and lifting you up effortlessly. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and you barely noticed him carrying you to the bed, too caught up in the heated kiss to care. 

Jey gently laid you down on the bed, never breaking the kiss and towering over you, arching his body so he could be closer to you. our hands roamed over his strong back, fingers tracing the lines of his tattoos, while Jey's hands traced  the contours of your body as if he were learning it all over again. Your breath caught as his fingers found their way to the lace of your panties, teasing along the edge. He bunched your dress up, revealing more of your skin to his hungry touch.

You arched into his arms, pressing yourself closer to him when his fingers pressed harshly against your cloth-covered core. Your reaction made him repeat the action again, fingers circling slowly around your clit, making you break the kiss with a soft moan.

"Jey," you gasped, your voice thick with need, "please..."

Jey lowered himself down, his breath hot against your core, his fingers toying with your lace. "Tell me what you need, babe. I'll give you anything you want."

You brought yourself to a sitting position, your elbows keeping you steady as you kept eye contact with jey, your breath coming in rapid pants. "I want you to love me, Jey. I want to feel all of you, to be completely consumed by you."

Jey's heart pounded with your words, and he leaned in closer to you, giving you a kiss that he hoped would convey all the love and desire he felt for you. How much he cared for you, how much he loves you, how he would do anything for you.

He pulled away, his eyes never leaving yours,  a loving intensity shining in them. "I'll give you everything, sweetheart. I'll love you like you've never been loved before."

With that promise, Jey lips lingered on yours once more before he moved lower, trailing kisses down your body. From your collarbone to your neck to your stomach, he worshiped every inch of your skin with his mouth and hands, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. His lips moved lower, down to the lace of your panties, and he looked up at you with a hunger that made your heart race.

He hooked his fingers into the lace and slowly peeled your panties off, his eyes locked on yours the entire time. When they were finally discarded, he pressed a gentle kiss to the inside of your thigh, his hot breath fanning across your sensitive skin.

Jey suddenly dove down, his tongue tracing slow, torturous circles against your core. Your back arched off the bed, a strangled cry escaping your lips as the plaasure coursing through your body. 

His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as his tongue licked your folds, sucking on your clit gently, dragging his teeth gently against it before sucking against your clit again, making you moan out loudly, your fingers gripping the sheets tightly.

He sucked on your bundle of nerves with a deliberate rhythm, his fingers tracing patterns on your thighs, coaxing every sweet sound from your lips as he quickened his pace, licking up and down your cunt, making you try to grind your face against him, but he wouldn't let you. His firm grip on your hips kept you in place, continuing his sweet torutre as you writhed and moaned beneath him.

"I love you." You groaned out, the words spilling from your lips like a mantra. Jey responded by kissing your clit softly with tender affection, making you mewl loudly before his tongue delved even deeper, curling and stroking at your sweet spot and making you let out a guttural groan and tug on the sheets even more.

You thought you couldn't take anymore, but Jey added a finger, slipping it inside your pussy and curling it with surprising precision even while drunk that it made you whine uncontrollably into the mattress. 

"I love you too, sweetheart." Jey whispered against your clit, the vibrations of his voice on your clit and the swirling of his tongue and curling of his fingers finally catching up to you. You could barely breathe as you succemed to Jey’s every will, white spots dancing in your vision as you came, your body going limp in his embrace.

When you finally came too and found the energy to open your eyes, you saw Jey's face hovering over you, his lips doused in your arousal and a smirk playing on his lips as he leaned over to you.

"Was that everything you asked for?" Jey cheekily whispered against your skin, his breath warm and soothing. He lifted his head, his eyes locked onto yours, a playful glint dancing in them.

You managed to catch your breath, your chest rising and falling rapidly. "You already know what you do to me," you replied, your voice a mix of breathless and teasing. You gave him a smirk before sitting up, your hand going straight to his pants and the obvious hard on he was sporting underneath.

"But I think it's time I return the favor." You palmed him through his pants, and Jey groaned against your skin before pulling you away fro him, taking off his pants and shirt and leaving him naked. You mirroed his actions, slipping your dress and bra off with a smirk.

"Nah, it ain't about just me tonight. It's about us." Jey pulled you back to him once all his clothes were off, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, the taste of you still lingering on his tongue.

You were so distracted by his dizzying kisses you didn't even notice him sliding inside of you until he was already inside of you, your mouth going slack at the delicious stretch of him filling you up  just the way you liked it, your walls clenching around him to keep him in your pussy every time he slid out to slide back in twice as hard.

His thrusts were controlled though, his hand pushing on your stomach to make you feel how hard his dick was inside of you. His other hand slid down your thighs and circled your clit harshly, making you moan hard and throw your head back into the pillows. 

Jey didn’t let up, thrusting in time with his fingers moving inside of you, the delicious friction of his thrusts and fingers making you moan in bliss and your mind teeter from present-day to heaven with every alternating fast thrust that had you going closer and closer to the brink.

“Fuck, babe, I’m close, so close.” Each one of your whines was encouraging Jey to go faster and faster to drive you to the edge of ecstasy, to give you the slice of heaven you’ve been craving all night. His lips found yours as he thrust into you so hard you felt like he was gonna break the flimsy hotel bed you were both laying on, but you didn’t even care. All you cared about was that he broke you so hard you couldn’t even feel your legs.

Your eyes teared up as you were getting closer and closer to the brink, and Jey moved his lips from your own to your face, kissing each and every single tear off before kissing the top of your head, hitting your sweet spot so hard, making you so close to cumming.

“I love you, baby.” He whispered against your skin, making your heart ache with love before he thrust into you one more time, with that and the curl of his fingers you finally were on the brink of heaven.

You shut your eyes, your breathing scattered and your moans falling on deaf ears as your mind shut down, finally giving  into the sweet ecstasy that was heavenly and yet felt so sinful, every inch of your being consumed by its devilish pleasure as you came so so hard, midlessley gripping Jey’s hair and pulling as hard as you could. 

The feeling of his locks in your tight grip and seeing your blissed out face was what pushed Jey over the edge, making him so mind-numb with pleasure at the feeling of you cumming on his cock he almost forgot to pull out until the last minute, but you barely noticed in the post-sex bliss state that you were in. You were stuck in that haze until you felt lips press a gentle kiss to your forehead, then your nose, your cheek. Then when you finally opened your eyes one was placed on your lips, and you returned the gentle peck, sitting up and admiring the way Jey's mullet was still damp and sticking to his forehead, how his lips were slightly swollen from your passionate kisses, the way his glorious abs glistened with sweat, the contented smile that played on his lips, just admiring jey period. He looked at you with a mix of desire and adoration, his dark eyes tracing every curve of your body.

You reached out, running your fingers gently through his damp hair. "You're amazing," you murmured, your voice filled with genuine affection. "I can't believe how lucky I am to have you. To be loved by you."

Jey's gaze softened, his hand finding yours and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Nah, sweetheart, I'm the lucky one. You are the reason I am still here, the reason I am whole. You complete me.” He whispered, his voice tinged with emotion. "I don't know where I'd be without you. And I ain’t never want you to forget that."

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at his words. You loved it when he was like this, so open and vulnerable, baring his heart to you without a second thought. It made you feel special, for you to be the only person he trusts like this. You leaned in and pressed another soft kiss to his lips, savoring the taste of him.

"I won't forget, Jey," you assured him, your voice filled with sincerity. “Trust me, I can't forget when you remind me every day how lucky I am." The way you looked at him, the hearteyes you were making as you looked up at him, the way you looked like you wanted nothing and nobody else but him made his heart so full of love he could barely breath and his eyes glisten with unshed tears and emotions he only reserved for showing you. You wiped a tear that fell from his cheek with your thumb, a tender smile on your face.

"I promise you that I'll never stop reminding you, sweetheart. No matter what happens with our family, whatever happens in that ring, you'll always be my priority, my hear, my everything." Jey's honey sweet and soft voice wavered slightly as he leaned his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as he savored the closeness between you two. He held you tight, tighter than he had ever held you, bringing your bodies so close as if he wanted to fuse your soul with his. You snuggled your head into his chest, relaxing into him and feeling the steady rhythm of his heart against your cheek, the heart he always claimed only beat for you.

Jey’s arms rubbed gently up and down your back while you traced his never-ending tattoos. And as you were tangled in the sheets together, your bodies melting into each other and your souls merging together, you knew this was it for you. That Jey was it for you, that he was the one for you, that he was the one who held your heart in his hands, and had the power to crush it in a heartbeat and make you feel empty inside, yet at the same time make you feel whole in a way no one else ever could.

And the old you would have ran away at the realization, gotten scared at the fact you were letting someone in so deeply, letting yourself be vulnerable to getting hurt, letting someone see all the parts of you that you kept hidden away.

But this was different. You were now different. With Jey, it felt right. He understood every part of you, loved every part of you unconditionally, embracing it all without hesitation, cherishing your insecurities just as much as your strengths, accepting every single inch of you as if you were a diamond in need of nothing more than a gentle polish to shine brilliantly.

And that's what he always did, didn't he? He polished your soul with his love everyday, making you feel like the most precious gem in the universe every time he held you close, every time he made you giggle when he told you a stupidly funny joke, every time he looked at you like you were the only thing he ever wanted to think of, every time he kissed you like he was trying to communicate all his love and devotion in a single touch.

So as you looked up at his beautiful baby brown eyes that were staring at you with awe and affection, you knew that you were exactly where you were meant to be. In his arms, his lips on your skin whispering promises of love and forever, his heart beating in sync with yours. There was no where else you'd rather be, no one else's love you'd rather have then his, no one else you'd rather be with than him. His love was like a diamond, strong, unbreakable, and yet so tender in its touch. You felt it in the way his fingers traced gentle patterns on your skin, in the way his lips pressed against yours with a tenderness that made your heart swell.

And in that moment, with your heart in the palm of his hand and his love seeping through your skin, you promised yourself you'd never let him go, never let him slip away, never have a day go by where you don't stare at him like he hung the moon and the stars in the sky just for you and would give you the galaxy if you asked him too.

You gazed into his starry eyes and knew this was where you belonged, entwined with Jey with his eyes staring at you with consellations of love reflecting in his gaze, like you were the celestial masterpiece he had been searching for all his life.

And you'd be dammed if you let anyone take your universe away from you.

——————————————————————————

You stirred awake slowly, eyes burning at the soft rays of morning light filtering through the curtains. Your limbs ached- a reminder of the night before. You stretched before realizing you were trapped inside a warm embrace.

The strong arms wrapped around you were familiar, and the steady rise and fall of the chest against your back was comforting. You looked up and saw Jey, his features relaxed in sleep, his breath warm against your neck. Memories of the night before flooded back, the love, the intimacy, the passion you shared with him and it made you smile to yourself like a dork.

You heard your phone buzz on the nightstand, but you ignored it in favor for nuzzling your head in Jey's chest and relaxing into his warm embrace, planting a kiss on his bare chest, feeling the steady thud of his heart against your lips.

But then your phone buzzed again, and again, and again, making you groan quietly and shift slightly in Jey's arms. You reluectnaly pulled away from his comforting arms, trying not to wake him as you reached for your phone. You giggled when he immedieley pulled you back to him as soon as you got your phone, leaning into his touch and giving him a gentle kiss on the cheek as you opened your phone.

You frowned at the barrage of messages you got from Liv. She wasn't a morning person, especially after she had a few too many drinks, so you were concerned to say the least.

incoming text from livvy<3: girl, pls tell me ur awake rn!!

incoming text from livvy<3: wake up!!!!

incoming text from livvy<3: girl idc how good the sex was, you better wake ur ass up!! twitter is going wilddddd!

incoming text from livvy<3 apparently the stupid fucking paps were waiting us out, hiding their creepy asses in the bushes and they followed you and jey all the way to ur hotel and caught u kissing :( I'm sorry their such bums. if you need someone to talk to I'm here babe <3

Your heart got caught in your throat as you immedielty went to twitter, and sure enough they were going crazy, circulating the photo of you and Jey.

You sighed, rubbing your face as you went through the comments, most of them surprisingly supportive and happy for the two of you.

jeylover121: omg!! finally!! they're so cute!!

wrestlinglover: mom and dad finally got together!! brb i'm gonna cry!

uceyfanatic: i knew they weren't just besties! the way they look at each other>> them heart eyes were fooling nobody 😭

y/nstan124: i knew something was going on, jey ain't slick! they way he always has to have his hands on her and pull her close, no ones taking her away from u 😭

You couldn't help but smile at the overwhemingly positive comments, but you also knew there would be some negativity. You scrolled through the edits and messages, trying to take everything in.

Not that you cared what others thought of you, their negative words didn't really hurt you, you had to have tough skin to get in this business in the first place. But you didn't want it to affect your work life negatively and you didn't want it to affect Jey or his family.

As you were scrolling, Jey started to stir beside you. His eyes blinked open, and he looked down at you with a sleepy smile.

"Mornin', sweetheart," he murmured, his voice husky from sleep. You smiled back at him, giving him a quick peck on the lips.

"Good morning, babe." you replied sweetly, your voice soft and filled with warmth. "How did you sleep?"

Jey stretched his arms above his head, his muscles flexing. You couldn't help but ogle at them as he looked down at you, his gaze softening. "Like a damn baby, thanks to you." He chuckled. "You really wore me out."

You smirked at his words, your fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest. "I'm glad to know I could be of service" You teased, Jey smirking back at you as he leaned in closer to you, his lips brushing against yours.

"Oh, you were of service, alright. The best damn service." He punctuated his words with a sweet morning kiss, his tongue sliding softly against your lips, inviting you to deepen the kiss, and you gladly obliged. You pulled away before it could get too heated, giggling at Jey's pout and innocent expression.

You gave him one last kiss before sitting up, reaching your phone again. "Liv texted me, saying the paparazzi caught us last night," you explained, getting straight to the point, your expression turning a bit more serious. "They got a photo of us kissing outside the hotel."

You handed him the phone, and Jey's face shifted from sleepiness to alertness in an instant as he read through the messages and saw the photo on social media.

"Damn, they ain't waste no time, did they?" Jey chuckled, though slightly annoyed and worried about how you might take it. He didn't want you getting overwhelmed and running for the hills, he couldn't handle the idea of you leaving.

He came closer to you, bringing his hand to your face and caressing your cheek with his thumb, his eyes searching yours for any sadness or regret. "You okay, sweetheart? I know this how we ain't plan on coming out to the world."

You leaned into his touch, feeling the warmth of his hand against your skin. You met his gaze with a reassuring smile, your fingers gently entwining with his.

"Hey, don't worry," you said softly. "I'm okay. I knew that eventually, people would find out, and I'm not ashamed of us. I want everyone to know the man who holds my heart." You kissed the back of his hand, giving him heart eyes that were making him melt and cause his heart to swell.

"Plus, I'm sick of those women in your dm's thinking they have a chance with you when you're mine." You gave him a playful wink, making him giggle like a nerd and squeeze your hand affectionately.

"Why you jealous when you got the real thing right here." Jey teased, his eyes sparkling with affection as he brought you into a quick kiss, pulling away and giving you a real genuine smile.

"You know ain't nobody gonna take me away from you, babe. You've got me wrapped around your finger." You laughed, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at his words.

"Good to know, because I'm not letting you go anytime soon," you replied with a playful grin. "You are stuck with me for eternity, babe. No receipts accepted."

Jey's smile turned into a look of pure adoration. He pulled you into a tight hug, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

"An eternity is too short to love you, babe," He whispered into your skin, his voice so sincere and full of devotion you felt it radiate through your entire being, radiate through your heart and soul. You held him just as tight, feeling the depth of you love with how fast his heart was racing and how his body seemed to mold perfectly against yours, how his kisses and caresses felt like they were only made for you and only you to experience.

After a few minutes, you pulled away, staring at him with a lovestruck stare that conveyed all the words you didn't need to say out loud but he understood.

"If you wanna love me some more, than you can get your lazy ass out of this bed and meet me in the shower, poking his chest playfully before escaping his arms and dodging his attempt to pull you back, giggling at his mock-scowl as you walked to the bathroom.

His scowl dropped when he noticed you wearing his shirt. And nothing else but his shirt. "Ay, wait up ma! You ain't doin' nothing without me!" Jey called after you, running after you.

You were already stripped of your clothes and in the shower by the time he arrived. His eyes ran up and down your body with a possessive glint that made your insides warm, and it took him 1.5 seconds to take off his pants and pounce on you, shutting the shower curtains and snaking his arms around your waist as he pressed his chest against your back, nuzzling your neck with his lips.

"You're gonna pay for that little tease," he murmured, his voice a low, sultry rumble that sent shivers down your spine. His hands slid up your sides, and you titlted your head to give him better access to your neck.

"A punishment from you sounds like a reward." You purred sultrily, melting into his arms with each kiss. He turned you around, backing you up against the wall and turning on the water, the warm water cascading down your back, a soothing motion in contrast to the way he was harshly kissing and sucking hickies into your skin.

"Oh, you talking like that now? You aint gon' be talking that shit soon though, I promise you that." You were about to make another snarky remark, but the breath got caught in your throat at the sight of Jey lowering himself to his knees, his eyes never leaving yours as he pulled you by your thighs, dragging you to him and making the lower half of your body fill up with heat as his breath fanned over your cunt that was hover over his face.

"What I tell you?" Jey's smirk was both infurtiating and hot as he taunted you, and yet again when you are about to make another snarky remark, he cut you off with burying his face between your thighs, sucking and licking your cunt so harshly you moaned out loud pathetically and gripped your hands onto his shoulders to find some leverage to try and ground you.

Let's just say, he definitely made you eat your words.

------------------------------------------------------------

LIKED BY UCEYJUCEY, TRINITY, YAONLYLIVEONCE, JIMMYUSO & 5 MILLION OTHERS

y/n: Acknowledge Us.

tagged: uceyjucey

VIEW COMMENTS

yaonlylivonce: hot couple alert hot couple alert 🚨 🚨 i told u to pick that dress!! you look so good!! 😍 ily💗

y/n: thats why ur my all in one bestie and fashion designer 😘 ilyt 💗

trinity: bad bitch!! jey is a lucky man 😍♥️

y/n: learned from the baddest bitch of them all 😘 but trust me, the lucky one is me 🥹

uceyjucey: my girl looks so good ♥️I love calling you mine ♥️

y/n: ty baby 🥹 and i love it when you call me yours ♥️

uceylover: omg omg omg omg it finally fucking happened!!!

wrestlingstan: bi panic bi panic bi panic 🚨‼️

WWE: power couple vibes 😍

jimmyuso: THIS IS HOW I MF FIND OUT!! I’m happy for ya’ll… but WHY YOU AINT TELL ME SIS 🙄 ily anyways

jeyuso: cause u talk to much uce

y/n: what he said, cause ur a blabbermouth 🙄 ilyt ♥️

jimmyuso: Now I’m being attacked by both of ya’ll… the audacity 😑

LIKED BY Y/N, JIMMYUSO, TRINITY, BIANCABELAIR, & 3 MILLION OTHERS

uceyjucey: left my headache, found my peace ♥️

tagged: y/n

UCEYJUCEY HAS RESTRICTED COMMENTS

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y/n: i love you ♥️

uceyjucey: i love you more sweetheart ♥️

[ivesambrose]

🤍 WHAT YOU'RE MANIFESTING NEXT 🤍

1. 2. 3.

Starting off new pick a cards with something sweet and simple that everyone can look forward to.

To book a personal reading with me DM or email me at ivesambrose@gmail.com

Masterpost

Services Offered

Thank you for the tip

Picture 1

Its likely you've felt rather helpless and alone, as though life has been testing you to the point it feels like a schedule to get to them and tick them off in your mental notepad once done. It is likely you've felt extra strained in your home environment or hometown, you may have attempted to leave but something or the other comes your way. You may have felt consistently blocked or unable to leave or unable to find a solution to a problem you've been facing in regards to your house or family.

A small part of you then decided to turn the worst case scenarios in your favour somehow. One of the ways being, "all of these sufferings will be rewarded. At least, mine will." I imagine you said this to yourself through gritted teeth. I want to tell you that the first thing you're manifesting is learning and accepting that suffering for rewards and accomplishments as poetic as they sound, shouldn't be the default settings you function under.

You're manifesting -

• A solution and clarity. No more illusions that worry you from taking the next step or making a decision.

• A community that allows you to bloom. New friends and network.

• Relocation.

• An end to apathy and boredom.

• An end to turmoil, stagnation and feeling of lack and helplessness.

• The beginning you've been anticipating as everything ends around you.

Timings: The coming 3 months.

Picture 2

You may have felt a lack of proper guidance in your life. That no matter what mentor came through or what ever path you sought to follow, everything somehow got complicated when you looked up to it. So many contradictions and so many lies. So you decided the only constant guidance are your own experiences and intuition. There's a life of adventure you seek, a career that lets you live the way you've wanted, for your words to inspire others without coming off too preachy and pretentious. Life has lacked stability likely due to external forces because you've time and time again done your best to obtain the stability that had been taken away from you. There's an intention you had set some time back and that is finally coming into fruition. Thing is, you knew it was going to happen anyway no matter how dire it seemed, you just needed to water this intention by directing your energy to it. You're manifesting -

• Increase in creativity with the energy to express it as well. Feeling in charge of your life. Leading rather than being led.

• Travelling to foreign locations for higher education or job/career. A career that lets you travel or involves travel.

• More money or increase in finances in general.

• More things or subjects to learn and achieve proficiency in.

Timings : Sooner than you expect. (Likely Gemini season for some)

Picture 3

You don't really shy away from challenges but certain incidents have made you question your faith and entire belief systems, later people and lastly yourself. You're trying to find a middle ground for yourself and also wondering how many transformations till your quiet breakdowns stop. Some of you really want to leave, something that brought you comfort is only bringing you anxiety now and giving you extreme mood swings. It seems as though you're wondering if any efforts you're putting into what you want is even worth it. Quiet your mind for some time. Even for a minute. Till the minutes eventually pass and your mind feels quiet for once. It's okay to have a head full of no thoughts at times. You're manifesting -

• Emotional regulation.

• Better health.

• Luck and expansion.

• Knowledge that you can put into use.

• For some better relationship with a maternal figure or their parents.

• Sudden wealth or unexpected wealth or property.

• Protection from distrustful and downright vindictive energy.

• Success, recognition and enjoying the fruits of your labour. Succeeding in anything you've been wanting to manifest for yourself actually. No extra steps or rules and regulations to follow. Simply acceptance.

Timings: Within 2 months.

[eunnieboo]

IYHM ask replies! (2/3)

🌸 @csevet asked:

hi my copy of iyhm just came in and my fiancee and i snuggled up and read the whole thing cover to cover and CRIED!!! i love when lesbians 💕💞💝💗💝💗💘💞💖💗💝

AHHHHH thank you SO much!!! OMGGGGG 🥺 live laugh lesbian..... 💞💗💖💕💖💞💕💖💗

🌸 @chrysalis-the-butterfly asked:

I read If You'll Have Me a few months ago and I loved it! Your art is so pretty and Momo and PG are such cool characters! 🥰 If you're okay with sharing, I'd be interested to hear what inspired you during the creative process? Were there any pieces of media or any other characters which influenced the formation of Momo and PG? Or did you do your own thing?

oh my gosh! thank you!! i really love character interactions and relationship dynamics, so i wanted to depict two girls who seemed like opposites - one cool and laid-back, the other soft and sweet. after a while they started to take on a life of their own, and i thought it'd be wonderful if their story could evoke the feeling of a shoujo romance!

i had a lot of things on my mind when i wrote the script... friendship, intimacy, communication... communication can be so hard! sometimes it's harder with someone you're close to because their opinion is so important to you. and what happens when you've got a character who's non-confrontational and has low self-esteem + someone who prefers actions over words, and would rather burn bridges than admit to feeling vulnerable? how would they get past that? i wanted to write their flaws as believable, and how their life experiences have shaped the way they think about themselves / the way they respond to personal conflict... but also how they learn from each other and grow ❤️ tysm for the question!!

@bisexualgoof asked:

Hi Eunnie! I just finished reading “If You’ll Have Me” and let me tell you, it was spectacular! I saw it in a local bookstore the other day and it was a no brainer to grab. The characters are so fun, the story is beautiful and heartfelt, and honestly every character is attractive�� I especially fell in love with the pages of the books without words, especially 312-313, it made me cry. Such beautiful art! I related to PG’s annoyance with her long hair, I felt very seen with her comments. I’ve definitely said “I’d like to forget” so many times myself, right to my butch heart haha. Thank you for sharing this story with the world, and thank you in particularly for your acknowledgment at the end of the book, it made me feel seen. What an amazing love story, hope to see more of this adorable couple in the future!

oh my goodness!! this is so lovely and wonderful and ahhh T_T thank you so very much. it's such a dream, having these girls be out in the world with their personalities and backstories revealed at last! and i'm so happy to hear about the cast and side characters, i love designing people hehe ♥ i'll definitely keep drawing this couple, alongside more sapphic couples that are to come 😍 thank you!!

🌸 @skittles-rainbow-cat asked:

HI HI HI!!! you’ve been one of my fave artists forever and i just got done with iyhm and it’s sooooo amazing im in love with it. also i think strawberry blonde by chloe moriondo fits mono and pg very well :] i hope you’re having a good day and thank you for all your art it heals me in many ways <3333

HIIII omg!!! thank you so much! this song is so cuteeee oh my gosh this line:

Takes my hand in hers when the lights aren’t on Smaller than mine and oh god I am gone

it's so sweet ;_; thank you forever, i hope you're having a wonderful day!! <3 <3 <3

🌸 @lord-of-the-froggies asked:

Howdy Eunnie! I know you're probably swamped with work right now, but I just wanna let you know that I got my copy of your book today!! I'm gonna start reading it right away, it looks and feels amazing. From a fellow Washington artist to another--congratulations on such a huge achievement!

yay hello fellow washingtonian! and fellow artist!! thank you so much for your kind words 🥺 and i'm so glad the book got to you safely! wishing you a happy read~

🌸 Anonymous asked:

I just found your art today and after scrolling through your stuff I went and pre-ordered your book. I'm so excited!!

omggg thank you that means so much!!! ;_; <3

🌸 @ddooyoung asked:

I got my (signed!) copy of the book, and I love it SO MUCH. It's everything I was hoping and more. I love finally getting to know them, especially Momo. Since the first time I saw them, I thought Momo was a lot like me and now I have confirmation 😆 Thank you so much for writing such a wonderful story!!! I'm excited for everything you do 💗

WAHH thank you so much!! yesss i'm so overjoyed to finally share their story after so long! i hope the signature turned out okay, i was very nervous signing books for the first time (shaky hand and everything) 😱 i think next time it would be fun to make a custom stamp and stamp a doodle next to my signature hehe. thank you again!!! 💕

🌸 Anonymous asked:

I somehow missed the news about your having created a whole damn book?? was just flipping through yu & me books's holiday gift guide and did a double take when I saw priscilla and momo!! zoomed in and sure enough, there was your name at the bottom! congrats on ihym and congrats on being featured on rec lists from shops as cool as yu & me 🎉😍

omggg thank you thank you!! 🥰 AHHH yu & me books looks so amazing! i've been to new york just once but if i ever get to go back i have to visit them... i'm always looking for indie bookstores to throw my money at 😤

🌸 Anonymous asked:

1. Will there be an “if you’ll have me” sequel? 2. Is Momo her full name or a Nick name? If it’s a Nick name what is her full name? Thank you i love your work! ❤️😊

ahh there's no sequel planned as of right now! but i'd love to make one if i get the chance... i have some ideas that i think would be fun <3 and momo gardner is her full name! i liked gardner because it made me think of flowers ☺️❤️ thank you so much!!

🌸 @upsidedown-shadow-dreamer asked:

Hello, long time fan here. If You'll Have Me was delivered an hour ago and I've already finished my first read. OMG it's AMAZING. I love the story, the beautiful art, the inner thoughts, the pacing, the page color changes for back story… Just major WOW. I hope you are so proud of this work. I'm already looking forward to reading it again. Thank you!!!

this is sooooo AHHHHH T_T i'm in tears. i can't tell you how happy and thrilled i am to hear this!!! it's so encouraging and uplifting and ahh!! i want to make more stories... and just knowing that this book will be read by the same person more than once, omg! it's truly the highest of praise. thank you from the bottom of my heart <333

🌸 Anonymous asked:

Hello!! I just remembered I could borrow graphic novels as e-books from my local library, found IYHM, devoured the entire thing in one sitting, then went through your tags so I could look at all your other IYHM art, and I was wondering if you'll make more stories about Momo and PG because I can't get enough of them! Absolutely obsessed with these two and I love seeing them so happy together 💖💖💖💖

hello!! oh i'm absolutely over the moon about this! i can definitely see myself making a follow-up book if i'm so lucky 🙏 but i'll keep on drawing more minicomics and illustrations no matter what!! thank you so much for this wonderful message 💕💕💕💕

🌸 Anonymous asked:

hi!! love love love your art!!! do you think we can expect to see another graphic novel about momo and priscilla in the future?

🌸 Anonymous asked:

I’ve read IYHM so many times already and I absolutely loved it!!!! Are you planning on writing another book with Momo and PG? Is is there a way we can buy more of your stories?

thank you both so much!!!! <3 a sequel is actually one of the ideas i pitched for my second book! my editor cautioned against it in case IYHM didn't perform well, so i ended up going in a different direction - but my fingers are crossed for future opportunities 😤 realistically, it will probably depend on sales... but for the record, i'd want to do one regardless of the numbers...

i have one more book coming out, which i'm working on right now! the timeline is a bit up in the air atm but i'll try to keep everyone posted. making a book is so slow but i'm so grateful to you all for waiting 🥺💛

🌸 @randomqueernoun asked:

Do you make webcomics for other apps/websites? If yes where can I find them and what do I search in them to find your comics?

ahh not at the moment! but thank you SO much for the interest! one of my biggest goals right now is to set up a website where i have all my work in one place, and that would definitely be the place where i post future webcomics 👀

also, just as an aside... i want to make webcomics so bad. i think after my next book, i might take a break from traditional publishing to do that. sometimes i can't believe i'm drawing hundreds of pages i can't post... i'm like, how are people supposed to read this if i can't show them? how will they know?! ahh it kills me... but yes... someday!!!

part 3 to come~

[gay-dorito-dust]

Jason with an Author!S/O and he worships the ground they walk on. he’s almost always begging to read drafts and small pieces, regardless of the content. he treats his copies of his partner’s publications like just the smallest trouble will destroy them. and if his partner writes about him? sappy love poetry about HIM?? he might as well die again, this time happily.

(the creative writing major brain is going bonkers.)

I’ve left this on the back burner for far too long, sorry about that and I just wanted to add on the stuff you’ve already said with things of my own cuz I like this idea so much!

Jason w/ an author!s/o who must add a character of his likeness and personality into almost every book they’ve ever made but changes his name to keep people from catching on. Jason however noticed this and gets a little flustered at the fact that he has been inserted into everything you had ever written, but he’s flattered too as he’s teasing you about how great this character you made up sounded from time to time.

Jason w/ an author!s/o who asks him for advice on how the story should continue and where certain characters should be by the end of it. Jason is more than happy to help you with the new novel however he could, which often leads into you both stayed up late brainstorming ideas until you got the one that suited your story just right.

Jason w/ an author!s/o who leaves heartfelt and personal messages inside of Jason’s own copies of your published works just to see him smile and smother your face in kisses out of pure happiness. He loves them dearly but refuses to touch them now in fear of bending and or ripping the cover by accident.

Jason w/ an author!s/o who often writes about him in your spare time and in the most romantic of settings too that it was enough to have Jason blushing up to the tips of his ears. He keeps them tucked in a box somewhere to read to himself later on while you slept peacefully against his chest. He loves these mini stories you’ve created for him more than anything and felt blessed that you even went out of your way to do something as sweet as this.

Jason w/ an author!s/o where you always have him in either your acknowledgments or dedications of each of your books, siting him as your inspiration and your motivation to keep writing when you felt like giving up because you punctuated a sentence wrong. Jason has never felt more appreciated in his entire life when you do this for him as he felt as though he had died (again) and went to heaven.

Jason w/ an author!s/o who thinks that your writing style can’t compare to the authors that Jason has read before and feels a little insecure about your own writing, thinking that it’s bad, but Jason will always pick you back up by saying he loves your method of writing stories as it allows him to escape reality for a while and that’s all he needs for a story to be good. That and he had an unhealthy bias towards you and Jane Austen. He won’t read anything else unless it’s by your hand. He vows this but you think he’s being dramatic. (He’s not, he’s very much not.)

[cacoetheswriting]

honesty: the music video

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x popstar!fem!reader word count: 2.3k summary: after a long day on set, you can't wait to get it on with your costar.

content warnings: 18+, minors dni: mature themes, literally smut with a minor plot, established relationship, unprotected p in v, overstimulation, praise kink, dom-ish eddie, adult language, heavy use of pet names, mentions of aftercare — if i missed anything in this chapter, pls let me know!

celebrity skin. masterlist <- part of this lil' universe, but can totally be read as a stand-alone. timeline wise, this takes place somewhere after part 3 and before end part 5.

“We want it to be sexy.”

“But not too sexy.”

“Revealing.”

“But not too revealing.”

“Sounds like you guys don’t know what you want,” Eddie chimes in, interrupting the back and forth of your respective teams.

You stifle a giggle.

“That’s ‘cause of the two distinct styles,” someone from your team clarifies, “We wanna be respectful.”

“For sure,” one of the creatives on the Corroded Coffin side agrees. There’s a short pause. “We will have you two kiss at the end, though.”

At that, Eddie smirks. He looks at you from across the table and you could just about melt right there, blood rushing to your face, warming your cheeks.

“That won’t be a problem,” he says confidently and winks.

-

Honesty was a guaranteed hit. Top of the charts. Everybody that’s been so far involved in the project said it. They praised it. From the bass, drums, to the guitar and vocals. The production value was off the scale. A dream arrangement that would stand the test of time.

All the song needed was a music video equally as captivating.

A back and forth discourse began shortly after you first started recording with the band: whose style should the clip resemble more?

Corroded Coffin screamed all things dark, maybe a little gory. Their usual expression featured slightly melancholy undertones and a lot of references to all things Dungeons & Dragons. Imaginative, for sure. An artistry that had rarely been seen in the genre. 

Although it’s been an artistry vastly different from yours. 

The glitter hadn’t necessarily been your idea, but it certainly became a signature of sorts. Anything sparkly, always. And music videos that told a story. Most often one of love since that’s what you idolised ever since you were a kid — it obviously helped that love also sold millions of copies.

Eddie’s team argued that it’s the band’s song and you’re just a feature, therefore the accompanying video should lean into their style. Your management team was hesitant to agree. Calculating risk in case the lines get blurred a little too much and your pristine image shifts to the opposite end of the spectrum. Hours of arguments. Hours of negotiations. None of which you, or the rockstar were even mildly aware of. Too lost in each other's eyes and soft cotton sheets. 

Eventually, a compromise, of sorts, was found.

Ernest Hemingway’s The Killers influenced, in part, a 1946 film noir of the same title, with Ava Gardner and Burt Lancaster taking the lead. The movie, in turn, inspired the black and white music video.

Done up in flair of the characters, Kitty Collins and Ole Anderson (aka Swede), you recreated iconic scenes alongside the brown-eyed rockstar. The rest of the band was also dressed to the nines. Side characters that played their instruments in the background of main shots. They blended in well, while adding a unique spin to the known story. 

Overall, the Honesty shoot quickly became a big spectacle. Bigger than anything Eddie Munson and his band of closest friends has ever been lucky enough to be a part of.

Intricate sets. Glamourous. In front of cameras and bright lights, you and your scene partner, Eddie, mouthed along the lyrics to the song as if they were a script. And with every scene, as if the two of you were the only people actually there, no equipment and no crew, you got lost a tiny bit. Lost in the chocolate of the rockstar’s wide gaze. In the way he smelled. The style of that decade suited the brunette greatly, so you became lost in how he looked in this character. Dapper. Unlike you’ve ever witnessed him before. He committed to the role too. A certain swag in his movements. How he touched you so hesitantly, delicately because that’s what the video required.

By the end of the night, after the director yells, “Cut!” to signalise a wrap, a round of applause for all involved in this project, you’re feeling hot and bothered. Sweaty, though not because you just completed a full day’s work. No. Somehow, you found the Corroded Coffin frontman even more attractive than at the start of that day — something you didn’t think was possible. When you glance in his direction, he’s already staring you down, and you know he feels the same way.

Backstage, inside your trailer, you’re sitting cross-legged on the couch. Fingertips at your lips as you wait for that inevitable knock on your door. You know it’s only a matter of time considering the build up of tension throughout the shoot. From the lingering touches and that kiss the director had you two repeat over and over and over…

Logically, you could wait until the two of you were home. Back at Eddie’s Hidden Hills mansion, away from prying eyes and ears. In a bed that’s become all too familiar. Far from possible interruptions. Logic however, well, right now, logic was taking a back burner ‘cause you needed him now. Desperately. And without a doubt, Eddie needed you too.

A knock. Then again. But the rockstar doesn’t wait for you to answer. He lets himself in. 

“What happened to the wig?” You ask, raising a brow.

“It was itchy,” he replies with a slight laugh, then shakes his head. “I much prefer my natural locks.” 

“That’s too bad,” you say with a slight shrug, “You looked quite smart with that short hair.”

Eddie hangs his head with a smile, though his eyes don’t leave yours. Not even for a second. That’s when you notice the glimmer. That look, the reason he’s here, just like you predicted. So you return the expression. Only yours is a little more sly. Tempting him. Teasing. 

“I had fun today.”.

“Me too.”

There’s a lot that happens in the seconds after you stand up. A lot that happens quickly. 

Eddie reaches for your wrist, pulling you closer before wrapping his, for once, ringless hand around yours completely. He presses it to the middle of his chest, holding it against his heart. You can feel it beating and that’s enough to make you melt ‘cause it’s strong and you swear it skips at the contact. His other hand reaches for the base of your throat. He holds it gently, caressing upwards until he’s gripping your jaw. 

“Kissing you in front of all those other people kinda got me going,” he admits in a low tone.

Naughty, that’s what you want to say, but you don’t get the chance ‘cause his lips crash into yours. Hungry. Desperate. Rough. Heat rushes through your body at the sudden contact, no different than any other time his mouth found yours. You’re at his mercy, always, and he knows it well. 

His tongue glides along your top lip and you part your lips to accept him without hesitation. He wastes no time sliding into your mouth, letting this tongue work in tandem with yours as he tilts his head to further deepen the kiss. The hand holding yours lets go, instead finding home on the small of your back, pushing you as close to him as humanly possible. His other hand lets go of your jaw, albeit not completely. Ghosting along the side of your neck before you feel him wrap it around your throat, squeezing lightly. It’s nothing new for Eddie to be a little rougher with you, but there’s something about this moment, after a full day of moderate teasing and borderline foreplay, that causes a moan to burst through you when he squeezes again, only harder.

The rockstar pulls back, sporting a devilish grin. “Making such pretty noises for me and we haven’t even gotten to the best part.”

“Do your worst, Eds.” It’s a dare. Nothing sweet about it.

He smirks at the challenge and before you can register what exactly is happening, Eddie is lifting you up swiftly, hiking up your dress in the process, only to drop you down onto the sofa with a gentle thud. You’re wide-eyed as he unbuckles his belt with one hand, the other tugging at the pantyhose the wardrobe lady had you wear for the last scene of the video. He partially rips them off of you, then he hikes his index finger along the band of your underwear, eagerly pulling them down your legs until they’re wrapped around your ankles, with the reminisce of your stockings.

“The heels stay on,” the rockstar instructs, pushing your legs apart with force and positioning himself in between. All you can do is nod. Half-naked, half in costume. Same as him.

In the space of a heartbeat, his lips are on yours again. This time they don’t stay for long, instead moving downwards towards your chest. When he squeezes your breast through the silk material of your dress, he compliments how fucking good you looked, “I wanted to ravish you the second I saw you, baby.”

You whimper at his words, and at the fact that his now freed cock is gently brushing against your wet folds. Not quite breaching, just teasing you further. Only adding to the overall stimulation. 

“God, you’re so fucking hot. So fucking pretty. And all mine.” Eddie’s breathing into your bare chest ‘cause somehow in the moment your dress has slipped down ever so slightly and your tits made an appearance. Fingers from one hand are digging into your hip, holding you in place, while the other has you by the ribs. Thumb brushing your soft skin while his hot mouth is sucking on your hardened nipple.

Your eyes are closed. You’re not sure when you closed them. He’s invading your senses all at once. Just when you feel like you can’t take it anymore, when you want to whither and plead for him to touch you where you need him most, Eddie plunges himself into you without warning and your eyes snap open. 

“Oh God…” he groans, drawing his hips back only to slam them in again, making your body bounce against him. “Fuck, baby. Jesus.”

You sob in pleasure as Eddie knocks the wind out of you with each relentless thrust, still increasing his speed. Heavy panting and grunting fills the trailer, along with the sounds of where his cock slams against your sweet juices. He’s sitting straight now. Eyes are fixated on the mess you’re both making, where his length disappears in and out of you, while you admire the way his locks fall naturally in place. Although briefly, ‘cause you’re arching your back the next second, rolling your eyes to the back of your head when he hits that sweet spot.

“So. Fucking. Pretty.” He growls. “You’re so fucking pretty when you’re all stretched open like this, sweetheart. Your pussy was made for my cock, baby. You take it so well. You take this big dick so well, my good girl. Fucking made for me. Ain’t that right, dollface?”

“Made for you, Eds.” You just about whisper back, nodding your head feverishly.

Slap. His hand makes contact with your thigh and you practically wail. “That’s right,” he praises, “Made for me. So fucking tight for me.” Slap. Slap. Slap. 

Eddie’s cock starts to swell. You can feel it expand inside of you, then again when he thrusts back in. It has you heaving. The speed he’s established is close to becoming a little too much for the two of you and he drops his weight slightly, allowing you to wrap your arms around him, nails digging into his bare back. He can sense that you too are close and he’s trying hard to hold back, make this moment last longer, but his body refuses to slow down. Chasing the way your glistening pussy chokes his length. 

“Where do you want me baby?”

“Inside,” you croak out. “Cum in me, Eddie. Please. I need you to fill me up.”

“M’mph—” He chokes out, movements growing more and more erratic. The whole trailer is shaking at this point, that’s what it feels like to the two of you anyway. “Everybody out there will know what a good little slut you are. Not that innocent. Wanting me to fill you full of my cum, fuck.” 

Slap. Slap. Against your thigh. 

“Please, Eddie.” 

Slap.

“Shh… I’ll give you what you want, sweetheart.” He coos, “Gonna pump you full. Gonna make you see stars while my cum drips out of you.”

That’s when you shatter around him, uncontrollable desperate squeals making him groan louder as he continues. It’s sloppy, messy, and once you’ve completely unravelled underneath him, the rockstar can’t contain himself any longer. He lets out a broken moan as ropes and ropes of his warm spend start to throb into your hole.

His body gives up at the last spur and he drops flat on top of you, although not without a loose kiss placed to your jaw. His cock remains inside of your pussy. You can feel it pulsing until, after a few minutes, it no longer matches the beat of your heart.

Eddie lifts himself then. He kisses you softly and you smile against his mouth. When he eventually slips out and stands, he tells you not to move, that he’ll grab a towel from the small trailer bathroom and will help you get cleaned up.

“Wardrobe is going to kill us,” you call after him, balancing on your elbows as you sit up slowly. “Pretty sure these clothes can never be worn again. Purely for the fact that they reek of sex.”

“At least your wig stayed in place,” Eddie points out lightheartedly when he returns, his pants once again buckled, a towel in his hand. “That’s something the hair and makeup team should be proud of.”

“I’ll be sure to tell them,” you say, meaning it as a joke ‘cause there’s no way you would ever admit to what sins the two of you just committed.

Eddie smirks. “Pretty sure they already know,” he says as if it’s no big deal, “We weren’t exactly quiet, sweetheart.”

as always, thank you for reading! pls comment, reblog & support your creators.

celebrity skin. masterlist | the killers (1946) reference

& the celebrity skin. taglist: @eviethetheatrefreak , @thirddeadlysin , @haylaansmi , @nope-thanks , @tlclick73 , @vintagehellfire , @ashlynnkennedy , @avalon-wolf , @sidthedollface2 , @astheni-a , @bebe07011 , @aysheashea , @papillonoirsworld , @vol2eddie , @spideyanakin-interacts , @rogers-sweatbands , @mimsie95 , @mmunson86 , @eddiesguitarskills - (if your user is crossed out, it means the tag isn’t working. pls check you’ve enabled tagging in your settings)

[tlbodine]

Stuck? Try junebugging.

I don't know who needs to hear this, but we're 5 days into nanowrimo so maybe this will be helpful.

Do you want the safety and surety of knowing what happens next in your story but can't stick to an outline? Does knowing in advance what will happen suck the joy out of discovery writing? Do you try to wing it through plots but get tangled in plot holes or have a story that runs out of steam because you can't figure out what went wrong? Are you at your most creative when you have a little bit of guidance? Do you tend to under-write? Do you get ideas in your head for random scenes and snippets that drop from the sky without context?

If any of these apply to you, junebugging a draft might be for you!

What Is Junebugging?

Since you're on Tumblr, you might already be familiar with the concept of junebugging as it relates to cleaning. If not -- I think the idea was first introduced to me by @jumpingjacktrash.

The basic idea is that you tackle cleaning by way of controlled chaos. You pick a specific area you want to focus on, like your kitchen sink, and then wander off to deal with other things as they occur to you, but always returning back to that area. You end up cleaning a little bit at a time in an order that may not make sense to an outsider but which keeps you from getting overwhelmed and discouraged.

How Does Junebugging Work in Writing?

OK, so that's great, but how does this work with writing? Well. In my case, the general idea is to jump between writing linearly, outlining, and writing out of order. It usually looks something like:

Start free-writing a scene, feeling my way through it and enjoying the discovery process.

Thinking, ok, now I have this scene, did anything need to happen to lead up to it? Do I need to go back and add some foreshadowing? Does this scene set anything up that needs to be paid off? And then jump forward/back to make those adjustments.

I'll usually have a bunch of disconnected ideas of ideas that have popped into my head, so I'll write those down in a list somewhere and then try to figure out what goes in between them and what order it goes in.

I'll write what I call "micro-scenes" which is where I'll just sketch out a few essential elements of what's going on without worrying too much about details, description, etc. -- just he did this, she said that, the setting was this, real bare-bones script. Then I can come back through and flesh out each of those microscenes into an actual scene later.

Got a story that has a complex structure? No problem. Write through each storyline one at a time and then chop them up and weave them together afterward. Write all the B plot scenes first then come back through to do A plot and C plot. Move the pieces around like legos. No one ever has to know.

This method works for me because I can't "decide" story elements in advance. I have never been able to just sit down and "figure out" what happens in a story beyond a couple steps ahead -- I have to discovery-write my way forward. But at the same time, that gets really daunting. So I zoom forward with micro-scenes, roughing out the beats in the most bare-bones way possible, then when I run out of clear vision for what happens next I backtrack, flesh out those scenes, build in connective tissue, etc. and by then I will probably find more inspiration to jump forward.

It's basically folding drafting, outlining, and revising all together into a single phase of writing, which is chaotic and goes against everything people teach you, but if it works? then it fuckin works.

Anyway, sorry for the jumbled-up post, I'm dashing this off quickly while I heat up a pizza and I'm about to dive back into my WIP -- but I hope this was a little helpful. If nothing else, take this as my blanket permission that it's 100% OK to jump around, write out of order, write messy, outline sometimes, pants sometimes, and do whatever else it takes just to get through the story. You've got this. Good luck.

[chocosvt]

HER | teaser.

✧✎ synopsis: wonwoo, a heartbroken and burnt out writer nearing the end of his math degree, wants nothing to do with the seemingly perfect, intimidating girl who has everyone under her thumb. you. unfortunately, his literary talent has got him shoved him between a rock and a hard place when you want to write a book and require his expertise. you two are the furthest from compatible. wonwoo can’t see this going well. at all.

pairing: wonwoo x fem!reader teaser word count: 1.4k actual word count: 140k (yes, u read that correctly) genres/tropes: writer!wonwoo, university!au, plug!vernon + boyfriend!mingyu as prominent side characters, SLOWBURN (i am not fucking around this is my slowest burn yet), relationship drama, soul searching, strong angst/hurt (i’m coming for the jugular), comfort, romance, smut, a smoothie of every emotion on earth.

(!) warnings for the full fic: drug use (weed, coke, ecstasy), wonwoo has anxiety + anxiety attacks + fairly dark thoughts, prescribed medication, gambling, intense language, infidelity, throwing up.

✧✎ a/n: as i descend to one knee and cup my hands together at your mercy, i offer a tidbit to the wonwoo fic i have finally completed after two years (lol). i know i ALWAYS say this, but i truly wasn't expecting the fic to be THIS FUCKING LONG! thankfully, i planned it well and although i lost momentum countless times (nervously side eyes the approximate & several 5 month breaks i took in between), my dedication to seeing the characters through & "completing" their growth was smth that i could not leave behind!

not having posted a fic for two years is prob a little much :0 so hopefully the length of this makes up for it (?) usually my writing is just teehee silly little romance agonizing slowburn surface level dilemmas of the self BUT THIS ONE HAS A LITTLE KICK!

so read it if you want! don't read it if you don't want!

hearts & flowers, xoxoxo (me :*)

UPDATE: read the first part here!

—MARCH 19TH.

“I have a relatively big favour to ask of you.”

 No. Wonwoo didn’t want anything to do with favours.

The fact that Seokmin had actively picked out his presence in the coffee shop like he was some shiny contortion of plastic had actually offended Wonwoo. He came here for two things: to not be bothered, which his friend knew, and to work on the book he was halfway through typing and had been halfway through typing for the past six months. Call it writer’s block, or an inspiration drought, or an absolutely depressing lack of drive—it had been hanging over the writer with an annoying persistence and it seemed that no number of lemony scones or cold coffees were going to make it vanish.

“Uh, Wonwoo?”

“Sorry… what?” He forced his gaze to shift from the blank page on his laptop to Seokmin’s apologetic, softly expressional face, slightly flushed from his time outdoors in the chilled March weather.

“I was just wondering if you’d be up for a favour—a pretty big one—and I know this is your special creativity spot, but she’s been like, breathing down my neck about it and I can’t put it off again.”

“Whose been breathing down your neck?”

At first, Seokmin didn’t say a word, or even make a sound. His lips twitched for a moment, but then he pressed them together and his chest visibly sucked in with a breath. God, Wonwoo hated the suspense and he hated Seokmin for interrupting him when he had been so stupidly close to putting a sentence down that he probably would have back-spaced in frustration a minute later.  

“Y’know…” he trailed off, “Her.”

Her.

No, not her, you.

But most people—if not everyone—referred to you by an alias that had seemed to stick so well the majority believed it actually was your name. When people said her they meant Her, and so in a confusing mess of finger-pointing they really meant you. Come to think of it, Wonwoo had no idea where the nickname even came from or who gave it to you or what it even meant.

And he was perfectly fine with never knowing.

“What?” Wonwoo deadpanned. “What on earth could she want to do with me? She doesn’t even know me.” He slid down in his chair, fingers pulling at his circle-lensed glasses so they tilted uncomfortably across his nose bridge. “Or, is this a joke?”

“Oh—no! Absolutely not!” His friend was insistent on proclaiming, vigorously shaking his head. “I’m being serious.”

“Why don’t I believe you then?”

“Okay, well, if you let me explain everything, it’ll all make sense. I said I know someone who writes really well—”

“Meaning me?”

“Yes, meaning you. And the only reason that was even brought up is because she wants to write a book.”

Wonwoo couldn’t help it. He laughed—a very short, disbelieving laugh that flashed a transient smile to his face as he readjusted his crooked glasses. You were the last person he would ever envision wanting to write a book. He then navigated the trackpad on his laptop, deciding to close the document simply titled, 01, that harboured the fleet of pages to his own current work in progress.

“Yeah,” Wonwoo disregarded, “sounds like bullshit.”

“I’m telling you the truth!” Seokmin exclaimed, gripping onto the metal back of the café chair like he was squeezing someone’s taunt shoulders. “She won’t tell me about what, okay? Just that she’s been thinking the idea for a while now. It’s not like I didn’t try to get details. But she refused—said the only person who can know is whoever’s going to help her. Look, y’have to understand, she was pestering me about it nonstop. And you’re my only writer friend!”

“Well, you’re about to have none.” He answered, reaching for his coffee cup but stopping it just short of his lips. “How serious is she about this, anyway?” Wonwoo sighed. “Do you know how much fucking time you need to dedicate to writing a book?”

He stomached a slow, somewhat grimacing sip as he tasted the coffee’s coldness, meanwhile Seokmin swallowed heavily, and at last pulled out the chair he’d been white-knuckling to take a seat.

“Yes, I’m aware it takes time. I know that. And she is serious or else I wouldn’t be here, bothering you. She takes everything seriously.” The boy began unbuttoning his sleek black jacket. “Really, who knows what’ll happen? Maybe you’ll meet her once and she’ll decide she can’t stand you, and then you’re off the hook for life.”

“Yeah, well have you ever considered what might happen if I can’t stand her? Are my feelings even being considered? Minutely?”

“Minutely, they are being considered.”

“Liar.”

It wasn’t that Wonwoo disliked you.

In actuality, you scared him more than anything. But to be associated with you was to be drawn into your life and caught like a firefly in a glass jelly jar. The proof was right in front of him—to Wonwoo’s eyes, Seokmin was basically your little mailman that scrambled around in hectic nature to do your bidding, because most tasks apparently weren’t worth the time or effort.

“I can’t believe you’re trying to rope me into this. You know I can hardly write my own shit, right?” Wonwoo said bitterly, wishing it was the opposite, “my mind is a desolate, blank canvas of fuck-all and if she thinks I’m writing it then she needs a reality check.”

“No, no—of course you won’t write it!” Seokmin reassured him with his big, opalescent smile. “Really, you’re just giving tips, maybe guiding her process, helping with the planning… you know, this could be facilitated so much easier if you spoke to Her yourself!”

“So, my nightmare?” Wonwoo huffed, shaking his leg.

In an instant, Seokmin had whipped out his phone, tapping around the screen quickly using his thin pointer finger.

“I’m just going to pull up her schedule. It’s always pretty packed, but more into the summer break, it thins out a little. “

Wonwoo exhaled, staring off into the warm, afternoon sunlight that hailed in through the windows, striking all the shimmering flecks and pieces of dust afloat in the café air. When he breathed in again, he could smell the luxurious coffees brewing in their rich and distinctive notes. It was such a beautiful day—still chilly as the snow outdoors began to thaw—but pleasant nonetheless.

“This is such a fucking waste.”

And Wonwoo spent it being miserable.

“No, it’ll be useful. Trust.” Seokmin chirped.

“You’re trying to dip me in your optimism gloss again.”

His friend smiled affectionately, tilting his head.

“This will be good. You’ve been a hermit since I’ve known you.”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo scoffed, “so you think it’s a good idea to shove me with the person I relate to least on the entire planet?”

“Really? The least? So, what you’re saying is, you relate more to serial killers? Or animal abusers? Or like, literal fasc—”

“Stop.”

“You want to do this. I can see it in your eyes. I’ll set you up.”

A part of Wonwoo knew there might be no wriggling out of the situation, especially with Seokmin sitting across from him, characteristically eager and brightly pushy as always, like a goddamn salesman. For now, it could be easier to let himself get cuffed.

“Can I at least have some time to think it over?”

“Uh… well… the thing is… the thing with that is—”

“You’ve cornered me?”

“I wouldn’t word it like that.”

“… Okay.” Wonwoo removed his glasses, shoved his knuckles tender but deep into his eye sockets, massaging through flashes of white as he came to accept a fate he didn’t know even existed in his astrology. “Just, I don’t know—fuck—schedule me in wherever.”

“Ha! It doesn’t exactly work like that.”

“I really don’t give a damn how it works, Seokmin.”

“Right,” his friend laughed nervously, “I promise that I’ll get back to you pronto. Sorry for the disturbance. And, uh, good luck.”

 “With what part?” Wonwoo grumbled, fixing his spectacles back on to clarify Seokmin’s sympathetic face, the light bouncing off his head of brassy hair like a disco ball. “My incapability to write a goddamn thing or the fact I have to help your perfectionist friend who’s probably going to chew me up and spit me out?”

 “Both parts.” Seokmin grinned. “It can only go up from here.”

✧✎ a/n: tada!

this is the introductory scene! i think i've read it so many times that i could probably recite it from memory at this point ;_; anyway! as i mentioned, i know that it's been a hot minute since i last uploaded any scenarios. but one way or another this monster is getting posted! i did NOT have this lurking on my poor tired macbook causing it to overheat and sputter and spew FOR NOTHING!!

i swear that i don't plan for my works to get this goddamn long. before i hardly planned at all. maybe now i plan too much? i guess i have yet to find a happy medium!! but again, i do hope the size of the fic makes up for all that missed time :_( life has been ruff. but this fic was there as a handy distraction mechanism (when i prob should have been facing reality fhwejfhwk) so i guess it's been a double-edged sword!

also just want to preface that the reader goes by an alias throughout the fic. i'm not sure if this is like... a very huge or popular concept nowadays? so if it hits your reading ear a bit weird at first i apologize! but i swear it has purpose!! *chekhovs rule* *winkwink*

ANYWAY! no more rambling!

i'm pondering the idea of adding a taglist for those who are interested, just as i did with honey boy :3 so if that tickles ur fancy then feel free to each out!

BUT PLZ HEED THE FOLLOWING:

the fic in its entirety will be split across 6 parts

the word count of each part ranges from 22-24k!

i do not YET have a set posting schedule, simply bc i am unsure of how long it will take ppl to get through each part

(so that would be smth i'd have to gauge afterward)

REVISIT THE WARNINGS!!

i will not be flagging mature/nsfw/triggering scenes throughout the fic as the fic itself already has a heavy nature to it

so pls read the warnings!

if there's any additional questions i encourage u to swing by :3

*deep breath*

THANK YOU!!!!!