#he must be missing his homie.

[rask]

be who you are for your pride Sean Kuraly for HIFE

#sean kuraly #columbus blue jackets #cbj #blue jackets #nhl #gifs #mine #what do u mean he's mlm? #multi level marketing?????? #him????? #the emo theater kid #FROM OHIO?????? #he must be missing his homie. #1 particular homieee #anw good bye

[nouvellevqgue]

MISS CRAZY CAT LADY. . . ✷ ﹙ MAX VERSTAPPEN ﹚

SUMMARY: when he dates her, everybody just know that his girlfriend is a crazy cat lady.

₊˚⊹౨ৎ ⋆｡✦

yourusername

liked by jessicachastain, florencepugh, ellefanning and 529,610 more

yourusername it's been 1095 mornings ever since marc joins me in bed. and so much more to come<3 🎂🐈

view comments...

username HE'S SO BIG ALREADY!!

username happy birthday to my favorite kitty!

maxverstappen1 jimmy and sassy says their happy birthday to marc

username who's been in y/n's bed the longer, max or marc? 🤔

⤷ yourusername ask maxverstappen1

⤷ maxverstappen1 we're in a competition, actually

⤷ username ‘we're in a competition’ I'M DEAD💀💀

username imagine how jimmy and sassy would react to this picture

⤷ username they'll rebel

username i need more cat content

albon_pets happy birthday marc! 🐾🫶🏻

username i wish i was the pillow

username i am marc actually

⤷ username omg shapeshifter is real😨

username he is so chonky i wanna bite him

username it must be so comfortable to be sleeping on his stomach

⤷ yourusername it doessss

username i just love her and i need a cat insta for their cats (also to make her sounds like lewis in roscoe's ig)

⤷ yourusername 👀👀

⤷ username y/n be honest what are you planning

yourusername added to their story!

caption: just watched spiderman last night with jimmy and sassy (also max) but he's gone the whole movie, so i decided to surprise him😉

ˑ⭒ʚ ִtwitter ݁.٭

ˑ⭒ʚ ִinstagram ݁.٭

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, maudeapatow and 641,332 more

yourusername i'm fine, and he just get his the bath on his life (arguably). but i promise we're good 😄👍

view comments...

username jimmy be honest what are you saying to her until she make this

⤷ username i think you should say those things to max instead maxverstappen1

username ‘i promise we're good’ BAHSHAHAH Y/N WHAT'RE YOU DOINNN

⤷ yourusername saving my life

⤷ username i mean literally

username i think this is her apologize post guys...

username but he looks so relaxed there

⤷ username careful homie, that cat has two personalities. could be more.

maudeapatow glad you survived, i should make you a welcome cake for this.

⤷ yourusername oh yes pleeeasee😩🥺

username does max bribe you or something🤔🤔 seems quite odd

⤷ username ALL OF THIS WAS ODD💀💀💀

carlossainz55 i have survived him once. i think that was the most intense things that i've ever had.

⤷ maxverstappen1 really? not even your racing incident?

⤷ carlossainz55 (+ with animal)

⤷ carlossainz55 maxverstappen1 don't bring that one.

username gosh how i love this comments section

username she's a crazy cat lady like my god get a grip

username mate, if you wanna do hatin, do it somewhere else

username hmmmm meetup with albon_pets when?

⤷ yourusername somedayyy

username right now i'm still curious about her reply on that comment on a pet insta topic

⤷ username they have to be as silly and must develop another personality like lewis does for roscoe's ig account.

maxverstappen1 added to their story!

maxverstappen1

liked by charles_leclerc, yourusername, pierregasly, and 969,573 more

maxverstappen1 it's been 8766 days since my crazy cat lady is being born!! happy birthday, lovely. more and more hours to be with you🫶🏻🫶🏻🎂🥳

view comments...

username she looks high already😂😂

username AW THEEE CAKKEEEEE

yourusername I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU SOOOOOOO MUUCHHHHH TO THE MOON AND BACK

liked by maxverstappen1

username the way he copies her birthday wishes for marc I'M CACKLING AJAJAKAJJAJA

⤷ yourusername he's a copycat🐱

⤷ maxverstappen1 i'm not by the way

username I WANNA BE HERRRR

charles_leclerc happy birthday to max's cat lady. i hope your cat doesn't attack me again

⤷ yourusername it was an accident, you smell like a fish sauce

⤷ charles_leclerc I'M NOT! don't listen to her guys

landonorris wishing you all the best, y/n!🥳🥳

maudeapatow happy birthday for you miss crazy cat lady from meeee<3😂😁

lisakudrow happy birthday to you darling girl! wishing you and all the smelly cats out there all the best❤️❤️

⤷ yourusername YOU TOOO MAMA!!!

⤷ username LISA KUDROW??? WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE???!?!?!!!

username wait y/n's cat have attacked charles before?

⤷ maxverstappen1 nobody knows

lewishamilton happy birthday y/n!

marvelstudios happy birthday to our arachne! 🕷️

yourusername added to their story!

#✶! #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen instagram au #max verstappen smau #max verstappen x you #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x y/n #f1 imagines #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader

[captain-barnes-writes]

What is soft launch? (Carlos Sainz)

Part two

Summary: Max Verstappen’s ex girlfriend moves on with none other than Ferrari’s Carlos Sainz and they’ve managed to keep their relationship under wraps until now. | part three |

Type: insta au

Face claim: Cindy Kimberly

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x fem!reader x ex!Max Verstappen

Warning: fluff, salty max, romantic carlos hehe

———

Liked by YourUsername, LandoNorris, CharlesLeclerc and others

CarlosSainz55 best summer break yet 😉

comments

LandoNorris you included our golf date 😗

CarlosSainz55 date???

LandoNorris that’s exactly what I said 😑

DanielRicciardo and I wasn’t included in this date, why??? 🔪

LandoNorris we’re keeping it lowkey for now

Username my faves interacting 🥰

DanielRicciardo i spy with my little eye 👀

Comment liked by YourUsername and others

YourUsername 🌊

Comment liked by CarlosSainz55, DanielRicciardo and others

Username Ariana what are you doin here

Username Carlos & Y/N??🫢

Username she’s really homie hopping

Username it’s not even her 😐

——

CarlosSainz55 posted a story

replies

YourUsername I miss summer break & you♥️

CarlosSainz55 I miss you more amor, see you soon.

YourUsername almost bebé🤞

Username Best of luck!

Username How can somebody be so good looking😭

———

Liked by 15,786

Tagged: YourUsername

F1Wags Y/N was seen leaving Carlos Sainz home with not one, but two (!!) bouquets of flowers seemingly from the Spaniard. This comes after the two have been frequenting the same places recently. Y/N and Max Verstappen broke up more than 2 years ago and it’s the first time there’s been rumors of her being linked with anybody else since. In contrast, Max moved on to Kelly Piquet only a month after their breakup. Are we getting our favorite wag back? 🤔

comments

Username she’s got the rizz 😮‍💨

Username THE grid rizz

Username Am I the only one who really wants them to be a couple?

Username she couldn’t find someone else?

Username im on my knees

Username didn’t think we’d get Y/N as a wag again😍

Username imagine Max right now 🤣🤣

Username karma really came to bite him and I OOP😳

——

Liked by 20,458

F1Wags Y/N and Carlos Sainz were spotted kissing and getting cozy only a day after she was photographed leaving his home. We’ve got our favorite girl back, but now in Ferrari 🔴

comments

Username she really can’t leave the f1 drivers alone can she?

Username can you blame her?

Username if I looked like her I’d be through half the grid already 😮‍💨

Username she really waited so long, she deserves this

Username Max is screaming into his pillow rn 🫨

Username these races are gonna be so awkward 🫢

Username im shipping them already

Username not ashamed to say that’s my Ferrari girl!

———

MaxVerstappen1 posted a story

replies

Username 2 years later & you regret it just now?

Username the DRAMA

Username Max you’ve got your own family now?? What is this

Username after all this time & you’ve still kept your pictures with Y/N😨

Username sir have you forgotten you’ve got a girlfriend?

LandoNorris Take this down mate. I’m about to call you

MaxVerstappen1 This is so fucked up

LandoNorris she’s just moved on is all

MaxVerstappen1 but with Carlos out of all people?

MaxVerstappen1 deleted his story

——

Liked by 1,209,937

Tagged: YourUsername

CarlosSainz55 One whole year with you mi princesa 👸 I’m happy to have spent this last year just us two without being under the microscope of the whole world and though things are now different, I’m glad I get to experience this life with you. I love you ❤️‍🔥

comments

YourUsername Happy one year to us mi amor. Grateful for you always💕

CarlosSainz55 mi princesa

CharlesLeclerc happy for you guys!

Charlottesiine you guys are so great together❤️

Yourbff thanks for always filling her home with flowers, you really make her the happiest 🥹

LandoNorris what about carlando?

YourUsername he’s still yours too Lando!

LandoNorris I knew you’d still share him😏

Username new favorite duo

Username Max must be on the floor rn

Username ok but one whole year??

Username Max really unfollowed Carlos yikes 😶

MaxVerstappen1 has unfollowed CarlosSainz55

——

Liked by 700,689

Tagged CarlosSainz55

YourUsername hard launching on our one year❤️‍🔥 Grateful for you. I adore how you always show your love for me, we really give each other our all everyday no matter where in the world we are. I’m glad I get to experience this life with you (and Piñon!) I love you mi amor 🥰🥰

comments on this post have been limited

CarlosSainz55 I know what a soft and hard launch means now 😳 I love you mi princesa and so does piñon.

YourUsername with the amount of treats I give him he better love me 😶 te amo ♥️

Yourbff my favorites!

comment liked by YourUsername and CarlosSainz55

LandoNorris but carlando still lives on 😮‍💨

YourUsername I’ll never stand in the way 🫡

LandoNorris this is the hardest launch I’ve seen

CarlosSainz55 the smoothest 😈

TO BE CONTINUED

——————

I couldn’t wait to get this part out. I’ve come to really enjoy making these ☺️ hope you guys enjoy

#Carlos sainz Jr #Carlos sainz #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x y/n #Carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz jr x reader #carlos sainz instagram edit #carlos sainz rec #carlos sainz jr x you #f1 fanfic #carlos sainz fanfic #f1 recs #f1 fanfiction

[tamayakii]

Fathers Love

notes: honestly i went in so hard without a plan this kinda fell through so I'm so sorry if it sucked, i wrote this in like, an hour with no beta reader or breaks. Sorry homies, this is all u get until i get more inspo <3 tags: @inuyasha330 warnings: angst, daddy daughter angsty, the way i was tempted to make this emotionally incesty but i DIDNT- thank me for that. anyways, dives over the pier.

The atmosphere felt thick around you, sitting in an unfamiliar environment. Your only comfort was your older brother but even then he felt distant, you saw the stars of the galaxy and more; you saw things that amazed you. 

“So this is what I missed out on?” whispering to him, when you had gotten your powers he had offered you a trip through the stars but you had rejected it; terrified of the powers granted to you through your DNA. 

Days before the incident in Chicago, your father had forced you to get a superhero suit when he found out that you too were blessed with the viltrumite powers, promising that he too would train you as he did Mark but; that no matter what you were still his little girl. 

You were always his little girl, when you came into this world Nolan had shed the first tears he ever would shed; he was so fearsomely protective of you. Never letting you go out alone, finally seeing the purpose of the backpack leashes marketed towards parents, always always kept you close to him. Growing up he was your hero, he was your everything. 

Now the suit feels uncomfortably tight with the memory of his words when he saw it on you for the first time, “just like me” he said, back then it was a compliment but now it was your fear.

“Yeah.. it’s amazing. Isn’t it?” Mark replied in turn, looking at you. There’s a pause before he puts his hand on your shoulder, “it’s gonna be okay.” he answers, you want to believe him. You wanted to but your gut told you otherwise but you stifled it. “I hope so.” 

The rest of the flight passed by quickly, with sleeping and eating orange-coloured goo there wasn’t much else to do besides daydream. After a while; all the stars looked the same, passing you by like blurs. 

You wondered about where your father went, leaving Chicago a mess, beating your brother to near death- Leaving the world without a word to you or your mother. How many stars away was he? You were left no time to wonder before Nuolzot announced your arrival, waking your brother up. 

The skies were pink turning into blue, and purple buildings and large arches decorated the sandy planet. The spaceship hummed as it slowly landed, a horde of blue bug people awaited your arrival. 

Cautiously you followed Mark, so close that you were practically his shadow. While he stared in wonderment, you looked for the meteor showers that were supposedly destroying the planet, but there was no sign of them. Only clear skies, no orange fiery balls of death. You held onto Mark's forearm, your gut twisting as Nuolzot took you further from the ship. 

“Wait, what exactly about this planet needs saving? Where are the meteors?” Mark questions, you let out a small breath. So he noticed too, you stared at the alien from behind Mark. Face twisting when he answers, forgetting about his own planet's demise that he had cried out about in your backyard before finding your brother at college.

Mark stopped, “The ones that kill billions?” He questions slowly. Stepping in a way that covered you from Nuolzot, as if he was gonna attack as an answer to Mark. But only to leave you two in confusion about his answer, 

“The Monarch will explain all.” You begin to wonder who the Monarch was, what it was. Was there no one else to help this planet? Why come all this way when there must be nearby planets that could help? 

“Your Majesty!!” The alien calls out, pulling you out of your thoughts, “May I present, Invincible and His sibling, Of Earth!” You and Mark stammer before bowing, figuring it was the most respectful thing to do. 

“Hello, Kids.” Shock runs through you like a viper, making your heart drop and your limbs go numb. “It’s been a while.” Your bottom lip quivers and you look up- Dad. There he is, tears fill your lash line as you rack your head for answers, 

“Dad?” Marks voice sounds like the wind, moving farther away. Your brows further, shaking your head as you watch Mark approach him. Memories of childhood and happiness flood through you like a dam broken, the love for your father washes over you before something else hits you. Anger, Despair, Sadness. 

It was like looking the devil in the eye, the same one that had killed thousands. Your fists clench as you step back, lowering your head as you gaze at him through your eyelashes. Body quivering with the amount of power it takes to not scream at him, to hit him, to ask him why he ruined everything. 

And Mark hugs him. He fucking hugs him. It’s like a knife in your heart, biting your lip so hard you taste the iron in your blood. The longer their embrace goes, the longer your heart squeezes. Emotions wrap around you like an old friend amidst the eye of a hurricane, words become distant as you remember all of the pain he put you through, put your mother. Your brother. 

You’re brought back to reality when Marks hand touches your shoulder, Nolans eyes catching yours making you flinch from his gaze. “Guess they don’t know you like we do… Fuck you.” Thats the last word your brother says before he takes off, for a few seconds you look back at him. The man that is your father, he goes to reach out; mouth opening and you take off just like Mark. Catching up to him, tears being blown away by the harsh oncoming wind.

But despite all that, he catches up to you; “you’ll never make it home on your own!” You speed up, leaving Mark and Nolan behind. You wanted your silence to hurt him, to cut him deeper than he cut you but it wasn’t possible because he made a hole in your heart. 

Mark catches back up to you and Nolan follows again, bargaining with Mark. Promising a ship back home, that Nuolzot wasn’t lying. That they do need help. You let out a yell of frustration; can’t they leave you alone? If you had to fly back to earth on your own you will.

You keep flying, even when Mark doesn’t follow anymore. You keep going until you feel your body adjust to the lack of oxygen, till your tears float in the endless void of space.

“Wait! Wait up!” You stop at your brother's voice, lips quivering. “Please. Wait.”

“Look.. just five minutes-” He bargains “What?! No! Absolutely not! I- No! Are you insane?!” You push him away, but he floats back, angering you more. He grabs your forearms, 

“Just five minutes is all. Is there is actual trouble; then we’ll help them out. If not, we can leave. It’s just five minutes.” Mark explains, his dark eyes are wide and begging. 

“..fine. But i’m not saying anything to him.” Mark nodded, before pressing his forehead against yours. “That’s okay,” he answers gently before flying with you beside him. 

“Five minutes.” Mark orders, Nolan looks at you but you don’t look at him,

 “don’t you wanna say anything to me?” Nolan asks- arms out in defeat. He expected this, expected hatred, expected yelling or anything. Anything but silence. He hated silence. Especially from his little girl, that hurt him the most.  Both you and Mark flew down to the civilization in response, following Nolan through the building. Mark and him made small talk- more like argued. 

You spaced out, trying to bide back the pain that holds you tight, you look up to see another bug alien approach your father and kiss him. Your mouth flies open; Words are exchanged but they’re tuned out. 

Seconds feel like hours, Nolan walks to a crib and realisation hits you hard. You feel sick, he made a new family. You’ve been replaced. You’re not his little girl anymore, you were nothing to him. Bile rises through your throat, 

“I’m gonna be sick” You shout, turning and sprinting out the door to barf into a potted plant, Mark storms out afterwards and Nolan goes chasing, his bug mate as well. “Oh dear- are you okay?” She asks, holding the baby in one arm and the other rubbing your back. You feel bad, normally you would be thankful for any pity when you barf but now her touch makes you wanna scream. Shrugging her off, you sneer at her before storming off as well. 

You see your father and brother, rage making you see red. “What I did on Earth was..” Your fist connects with Nolans jaw as he speaks but it only makes him stumble a bit. 

“Fuck you! Just fuck you!! You get to come to earth and make a family- make us love you as if you loved us and then you fuck off to make a new one!?” You cry out, your voice breaking from the strain on your vocal cords. Nolan rubs his jaw, his eyes hold anything but anger, but youre blind to it. 

“Please... It’s not what you think.” He pleads, holding his hands out. You slap them away and push him, 

“You put me into this fucked up world! You promised me you’d never leave me and look what you did! You left me! You almost killed Mark! Mom cries every night and i don’t know what to do with myself!” You hit his chest, “you said i was your little girl but you left and made a new family like we were nothing! Well fuck you!” You hit his chest over and over again, to no avail. 

“Please. Listen.” He grabs your wrists, “You have to listen. You and your brother need to help these people; if not, viltrumite will kill them. They already know i left my post.” Tears roll down your cheeks,  and you lean your head back and thrust into his nose. 

“Post!? We were just some fucking post to you!? Why do you care about them? Why not us? What about me!?” Headbutting him made no difference, you struggle in his grip. The sight of his babygirl crying broke him; he was supposed to protect you and all he did was hurt you.

“Look i.. I needed you and your brothers' help. They’re good people. We need to save them” 

“What about me dad? What about me? Where were you when i needed saving?” your words fall more gently, and you press your forehead on his chest. You wanted to be his little girl again; giggling in his arms as he swung you around.

“I promise, we can talk about all of this soon. But you have to help me save these people.” 

And like the little girl who did anything for her daddy's approval, you caved. You hung onto that promise, not realizing that he wouldn’t be able to keep it but for now, it comforted you, warm like your father's love.

#invincible x reader #invincible #nolan grayson x reader #mark grayson x reader #wow thats not alot of tags...

[blindmagdalena]

Do u think homie will get upset if he dreamt that u cheated on him lmao I just imagine him being all grumpy and needy and you have no idea whats going on

...lmao. Homelander's been all over you today, but it's different from his usual smothering, affectionate neediness. He's unbelievably grouchy. No matter how much attention you pay him, you can't seem to pull him out of this foul mood. Finally, you ask him, "Okay, seriously, what's wrong?" "Nothing," he says, which tells you it's of course not nothing. His arms are crossed as tightly as a drawn bow, and you've been listening to his teeth grinding all day.

You hum softly. "Is it work related?"

"No." His nostrils flare slightly as he realizes he's just admitted that there is something.

With a tiny curve to your lips, you nod. "Is it something I did?" "Yes," he says sharply, though his arms loosen after a beat. "Well, no. But yes."

"Oohh, cryptic. I love a good mystery," you tease.

He's wholly unamused. "Don't laugh at me."

"Don't be so cute."

"No, no," he says, pointing at you. "Don't pull that on me. You cheated on me."

Your amused expression flips, immediately overtaken by your surprise. "Excuse me? I what?"

"Last night," he says, his words tight from his clenched jaw. "In... a dream."

You make the mistake of laughing anyways, and Homelander bristles. You quickly put a hand up. "Sorry, I'm sorry, I'm not laughing at you, I'm just relieved," you say, smoothing your hands down his arms.

"You're relieved that I'm having nightmares about you cheating on me?" He asks, aghast.

"I'm relieved that you don't think I actually cheated on you," you clarify. "But I am sorry that you had that dream. You know that's all it was, though, right?" You watch him roll his tongue between his teeth. "Right." "Okay, good," you coo, guiding him to the couch. "And you know I'd never do that, right?"

He sits, stiff at first, but as soon as he realizes you're easing him into your lap, he practically flops his head down on your thighs, staring up at you with a petulant purse to his lips. "Right."

"Good," you say again, stroking your fingers through his hair. "Because I love you very much, and it would break my heart to hurt you like that. Right?"

Begrudgingly, the tilt of his lips curves up into a small smile. "Mmhm." "Right?" You push, scraping your nails along his scalp.

He sighs, the tension from his shoulders melting. "Right."

"Good," you say a final time, bending down to press a kiss to his forehead. His eyes fall shut, simply enjoying the caress of your fingers along his scalp, his forehead, and behind his ears, despite the occasional bout of ticklishness.

After a time, you idly ask, "So... Who'd I cheat on you with?"

His eyes snap open, brows furrowing. "What?"

"Who'd I sleep with? I mean... they must have been gorgeous to pull me away from-" You cut yourself short, letting go a peal of laughter when he abruptly sits up.

Knowing what's coming, you take off running.

"C'mere!" He growls, narrowly missing catching your wrist as you flee from him, but you know you won't be able to outpace him for long. You half scream, half laugh as he snatches you around the waist and hauls you up into the air, both arms wrapped around you middle. "Alright, it's happening." "No! Please! Have mercy! I have children!" You scream, kicking frantically through the air.

"What? No you don't," he says, walking you to the bedroom.

You continue to thrash. "My future children!"

With that, he tosses you onto the bed with ridiculous ease. You bounce twice before settling. You try to scramble off of it, but he swiftly pins you down.

"No!" You cry out, already laughing in anticipation. "Mercy! Mercy!"

Homelander shows you no mercy. He tickles you until you cry, and then dutifully kisses the salty streaks away.

Ultimately, you suppose it's a fitting punishment for your infidelity.

#i've had this in my drafts for literal months #and i don't know what to do with it so i'm just gonna publish it! #homelander x reader #homelander x you #darling anon #ask and you shall receive #my writing #fluff

[runningfrom2am]

Reader’s childhood friend gets dumped by Rafe, and then when the reader moves to town, they get back at Rafe, by breaking his heart.

thank you for this request ahhh i'm obsessed! (I've never seen john tucker must die but i hope this is along the right lines of what we were after lol.) i feel so bad ab hurting him :'(

anyway happy halloween guys!! i hope everyone has so much fun :))

rafe cameron must die - r.c.

pairing: rafe x fem!reader

wc: 3k

tags/warnings: toxic af reader, cheating, manipulation, swearing, read at your own discretion (but nothing else really that deep).

requests (currently closed- feel free to send whatever but it will be a while before I get to them!)

nav/masterlists

After your best friend showed up on your doorstep in New York with tears in her eyes and her favourite pillow under her arm, you knew you had to do something.

She had lived in New York most of her life, having only left you a few years before to move down to the Outer Banks with her family. You missed her dearly, but you hardly went a day without talking or a holiday without her coming home- that is, until she starting dating Rafe Cameron.

Over the last year your friend had fallen off your radar, not for a lack of you trying. But with her crying with her head in your lap, she confessed that she never meant to hurt you, but it was Rafe who had insisted that she didn't need her connections back home, and would roll his eyes when she mentioned anyone he didn't know personally. This got to the point where she just stopped, and made the mistake of listening to him when he drilled into her that you didn't even care if you couldn't be bothered to come visit. Luckily for you, while manipulative and abusive, Rafe also was careless- and your best friend told you he never even bothered to remember your name.

You dried her tears after days, shedding a fair few yourself upon hearing about how your friend's ex had treated her and how he broke up with her over text after no-call, no-showing their one-year anniversary date. You couldn't take it. You had to fix this somehow.

You had always been one for silent, secret revenge. Like spreading rumours about people who had done you wrong and never laying claim to the story, homie-hopping the friend group of a boy who refused to give you the respect of labeling your relationship, or even taking the liberty of sleeping with all of another girls ex-boyfriend's if she had given you one too many dirty looks. They didn't have to know about it in order for you to maintain your confidence- you knew what you did, and that was enough. This time, though, it wasn't you they had hurt. It was your best friend, the purest, kindest of souls who couldn't hurt a fly if you handed her the swatter and somehow held it still.

Rafe Cameron had to know the mistake he made by treating the wrong girl the wrong way, and you would make sure that he would. As you got off the ferry in Kildare with a suitcase in your hand, your mind was already reeling with every last thing you could do to him to make him feel what your best friend did- to hurt him the way he deserved. Rafe Cameron must die.

After scrubbing your social media's of any evidence of each other, your friend gave you the name of the country club he frequented. You had been quick to apply for every job they had open, and you landed one as a cart girl- it was perfect. You couldn't be more pleased with the position, you got to drive around on a drink cart in whatever short skirt you pleased, serving drinks and snacks to rich men who tipped generously and to most importantly, Rafe Cameron.

He had been intrigued from the first time he laid eyes on you. You were pretty, and seemingly so nice, and better yet; you were new in town. To him, you didn't know anything of him and his reputation, his drug habit, or his family name. He didn't know that you knew it all.

"Good morning Mr. Cameron." You smile, pulling up next to his tee-off point and quickly but casually stepping out of the cart. "Your usual today?"

"Come on, you can call me Rafe. My dad is 'Mr. Cameron'." Rafe chuckles, shaking his head at you and already digging for his wallet.

"That he is." You agree with a slight laugh, digging through your cooler to grab his favourite brand of beer and a shot. "First one is on me." You insist, holding the shot out for him as he looks up from where he was shuffling through the bills in his wallet.

"What's the occasion?" Rafe chuckles, furrowing his brow as he grabs the small glass from you.

"I don't know, it's always a good day when my favourite client is in early." You shrug, painting an innocent smile on your face.

"I'm your favourite, huh?" He smirks, accentuating the statement by taking the shot as you crack open his beer and hold it out to him to chase with.

"Of course you are." You hum, watching him as he trades the shot glass for the can in your hand.

"Well, that's funny, actually, because you're my favourite cart girl." Rafe smiles at you, and you return it, looking down and brushing your hair back out of your face.

"That's real sweet, thank you." You blush, fighting back the urge to scowl at how honestly fake he is. He's not this nice person he pretends to be- but he doesn't know that you aren't either. How long could the two of you play this game before one of you shows your cards? You're hoping that you get the chance to go first.

"You're welcome." Rafe smirks, nodding at you, reaching for his wallet again. God- he is so obnoxious you could vomit. "Here, this is a tip then if the drinks are free." He hands you a fifty, and you once again resist the urge to roll your eyes.

"Oh, wow, thank you." You smile sheepishly, taking it from him and tucking the bill into your bra.

"Don't worry about it." He smiles, leaning on his club as he watches you go to get back in the cart. "Hey, Y/N?"

Bingo.

You turn and put that smile back on, humming and tilting your head at him expectantly.

"Want to grab drinks after your shift? I know this great country club with a really cool bar."

Of course he wants to take you out to the club you work at- and to think that's funny, too? What a joke.

"Yeah! I would like that." You nod with a smile.

Your first few dates went... swimmingly. Perfectly to plan, anyway. Rafe would always pay, and you would always act a little nervous. You would wear sundresses- your friend said they were his favourite, and you played into his interests. You made a strong impression that you were one to be easily manipulated, and he was falling for it. Hard.

You were walking down the beach, hand in hand, taking the time to look at the beautiful view of the ocean while the boy next to you watched you intently, as if you were the only girl in the world. Right now, to him, you were. "Hey, Y/N, so I was thinking..."

"Oh, were you?" You tease, giggling as you raise an eyebrow at him.

"Yeah, I was," Rafe chuckles, gently swinging your hand. "I was thinking that maybe I'd like you to be my girlfriend, a more official thing. If you want, of course."

"Really?" You smile, chewing your bottom lip as you look up at him.

"Yeah, of course. You're really cool, and kind, and so beautiful, and I was just hoping you were feeling the same way I was." It was sweet, you can see how he roped in your friend so effortlessly.

"Aw, well, yes, I would love that, Rafe."

When you got back to your apartment that night, you were quick to text your friend and tell her he was all in. The plan was working out beautifully, and while she felt guilty, you reassured her that karma was on your side- and it would be the only justice he ever would face.

You spent the following month as Rafe's dream girl. Within three weeks of him asking you to be his girlfriend, he had told you he loved you over a shared bottle of wine on his yacht. You would be lying if you said you didn't enjoy this new lifestyle he was giving you, but you were much more excited by the idea of all of this blowing up in his face. You had considered the route of revenge porn, even going so far as to save some illicit pictures of him that you asked for, but even for you, that feels too far.

Safe to say, though, it's only a matter of a few months before he's all in, and you're all in with his friends, and thankfully, his family. He didn't get on with his sister, which worked out for you considering that her boyfriend, John B, was a pogue- and your overly possessive boyfriend had a wonderfully convenient distaste for pogues.

"Sarah! How are you? I didn't expect to see you here!" You smile, walking up to her and immediately pulling her in for a hug.

"Uh, at a boneyard party?" Sarah chuckles, hugging you back and looking over your shoulder at her friends, sharing a confused look with them.

"Well, yeah. I guess you're right." You giggle, pulling away and looking around at her friends. "These must be your friends! I've heard so much about you guys."

"Uh, yeah, everyone, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is John B, Kie, Pope, and JJ." She introduces you and you smile politely, giving them a small wave. "Y/N is Rafe's girlfriend."

"Nice to meet you." Pope says, but it sounds more like a question. It would be suspicious that Rafe's girlfriend would want anything to do with pogues.

"I just moved here a few months ago. I'm still trying to make friends and stuff." You shrug. "Really I've heard only good things about you guys."

Kie scoffs at this, bringing her cup up to her lips and shaking her head.

"What?" You giggle, furrowing your brow.

"As if Rafe would have anything nice to say about us." JJ agrees with his friend.

"Well, Rafe is... you know. Rafe."

"You could say that." John B says sarcastically and Sarah hits his shoulder.

"He's just... Actually, never mind. I shouldn't say that." You laugh it off, hoping one of them will take the bait.

They all look at each other, and a silent interaction takes place that you hope you're reading correctly. "Hey, can I grab you another drink?" JJ offers after a moment.

You nod and smile. "Yeah! Sounds good, I'm not drunk enough to be getting these shoes dirty like this. I still feel guilty about it." You laugh.

"Alright then! Tell me- have you ever done a shotgun before?"

The night progresses just as planned, with you getting sloppy drunk. Or, outwardly, sloppy drunk. You'd "accidentally" spilled over half of your drinks, gravitating closer and closer to JJ. He was cute anyways, and funny, and who were you to deny yourself the pleasure of being around someone you actually liked after months of faking it with Rafe?

You fire off a text to him, asking him to "pretty please" come pick you up from this party, and he replies within a minute promising he'd be there soon, and, the icing on the cake, that he loved you.

Now was most definitely the right time to get this whole thing over with.

"So, you were saying earlier about Rafe..." John B asks, leaning on Sarah's shoulder as she nudges him, shooting him a look that says 'don't be too obvious'.

"Oh! Well like I said, I probably shouldn't say..." You giggle, leaning into JJ's side more as he slots his arm around your waist to steady you.

"C'mon, Y/N/N, you can tell us. We won't tell a soul." JJ promises, squeezing you gently.

"Okay, well, In that case, he's kind of... weird, I guess? When we're alone he's just so clingy and whiney and kind of annoying." You slur out, giggling and covering your face. "I mean, I love him, but like, it's a lot."

You watch as their faces collectively light up, John B and JJ trying their best not to laugh. "And! And, you seriously can't tell anyone I told you this..." You cut them off, shaking your head and pretending to stumble a bit. "It's like... quite small. Honestly, I feel bad for him. The sex is so bad."

You laugh as everyone else does, already knowing you've lit the fire for a rumour to spread. Not that it was entirely true, but you figured it was a nice touch. Something for him to remember you by after you're back in New York and he's still fighting off the small dick allegations.

"That's... yeah that sucks." JJ laughs, running his hand down your back. "I have to tell you, though, no one's ever said that about me." He whispers the last part to you so no one else could hear, but you're sure they got the general idea.

You hum, taking another sip from your can as you turn in his arm. "Come with me to grab another drink?" You whisper back and he nods.

"Guys! We'll be back, just going to grab another drink." JJ explains, already leading you off.

"Don't tell anyone what I said about Rafe!" You laugh, pointing at them as you walk away, sure to be loud enough to draw looks from other kids scattered around.

"Come on, this way." You grab his hand and lead him away from where you stashed your drinks, up toward the road.

"Don't you want your drink?" JJ asks, confused as you turn to face him, shaking your can to demonstrate that it's still almost entirely full.

JJ chuckles, shaking his head. "What about your boyfriend?"

"What about him?" You say, stopping next to a tree, chewing on your lip as you look up at the boy in front of you.

"Nothing." JJ says quietly, shaking his head as you lean in, catching headlights approaching in your peripheral vision.

You pull JJ closer to you, his lips pressed to yours and you tangle your fingers in his hair as the lights get closer, brighter.

Rafe makes his way down the road, repeatedly trying to call you. No answer after your text, but he just sums it up to you being too drunk to make out what's on the screen. He loves it when you're drunk, you're giggly, and fun, and more relaxed than normal. It's not a side of you he sees often.

Rafe is beginning to think you're changing him, for the better. He's never loved someone so much, he fell fast and hard for a girl who was perfect for him. Soulmate was a word he swore he never believed in, that was until he got to know you.

When he caught a look at you in his headlights, making out with JJ fucking Maybank, he could swear his heart stopped. Typically he'd be angry- he's not a stranger to being cheated on, or doing the cheating, but with you, it was so different. He was more mature now. Apparently, maturity meant heartbreak.

"Y/N? Is that you?" Rafe calls out, getting out of the truck as JJ disappears back down to the beach. He already knew the answer.

"Rafe! Uh, hi!" You giggle nervously, deciding to play this out a little longer as he walks up to you.

"Who were you with?" He asks, stopping a few feet away as his voice cracks.

"Oh! Uhm, just a friend." You answer, keeping your distance.

"Oh, okay. Well, let's go, then. I'll get you home." He mumbles, a tear falling which he quickly wipes away as he turns to head back to the truck. Hopefully, the few seconds he isn't facing you are enough to compose himself.

"What, that's it?" You scoff, crossing your arms. The sudden sobriety in your voice caught him off-guard. "I really expected more from you, Rafe Cameron."

He turns, brow furrowed as he looks you over. Sober as ever, he's sure of it. "What?"

"What?" You mock him, rolling your eyes. "I'm disappointed. Honestly. Not even a screaming match?"

Rafe pauses for a moment, shaking his head slightly as if it would help him interpret the situation. "Y/N, I'm not going to fight with you. I'm going to pretend I didn't see what I'm pretty sure I just saw, and we're going to move on. Okay?"

"I'd rather not, actually." You reply, feet planted firmly where you stood. "Are you crying?" You ask, leaning in a little and squinting in the headlights to see better. "Oh, my, god. You are crying!"

"What are you laughing at? You cheated on me!" He defends, wiping his eyes rapidly as his voice shakes.

"Aw." You laugh, clutching your drink to your chest with a fake pout. "It really worked, didn't it?"

Rafe looks down at the ground now, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Tell me, how does it feel?" You ask. "I'd like to pass it on to a friend. I mean, she already knows, because you cheated on her. Then blamed her, and then hit her when she pointed the finger back at you. Oh, and that was after you ghosted her and broke up with her with a snapchat."

He just shakes his head again, chewing now on the side of his nail as tears continue to fall.

"Nothing? Not even a word?" You ask, waving your hand in his direction to grab his attention.

"I love you." He mutters, a weak attempt at regaining your favour.

This only succeeds in making you laugh. "So I win!" You drop your can so you can give yourself a round of applause.

"Rafe Cameron, I have never met someone as fake, and sick, and as cruel as you are." You recite, stepping closer with every word. "You are going to die alone. And you'll deserve it."

"You will too." Rafe counters, taking a deep breath. "You are just as cruel and sick as I am." He spits, regaining enough confidence to be angry. "What kind of person takes months out of their life to move to a new city just to fuck up someone else's life?"

"You don't even know the extent of what I did yet." You whisper, face to face with him now. "Go ahead. Hit me. I won't press charges. I won't need to."

His fists are clenched at his sides, jaw shut so tight his temples are starting to ache as angry tears continue to fall.

"You can't, can you?" You continue, taking a step back now, smiling and shaking your head. "You're pathetic, Rafe Cameron!" You call, turning and walking back down the path.

He watches you walk away, heartbroken as he huffs with anger. That's what he gets for changing. That's what he gets for trusting you.

taglist: @bookishbabyyy, @madelynie, @whore-4-drewstarkey, @slut4drudy, @winterrrnight, @totalswag, @sadfury, @fullfledgedemo, @rafemotherfuckingcameron, @urfaveluvr, @chenslucy, @hxnnah-397, @s-we-e-t-t-ea, @tahliac11, @saccharinesammie, @ietss, @maybankslover, @redhead1180, @suzyheartsrafe, @wpdailyminimeta, @rafegirly, @thelomlisrafecameron, @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles, @flonkertn, @whtvrrafe, @r1vrsefx

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[sungbeam]

OFF THE RECORD ▷ PART ONE (EP1-8)

nonidol!ji changmin x fem!reader

everyone thinks changmin is cute and harmless, but you know that's not who he really is.

▷ genre, part warnings. e2l, childhood friends gone bad, (extra) slow burn, fluff, angst, mentions of childhood trauma and parental manipulation, arguing, bittersweet galore, nct ten is there for the sole purpose of being nosy like the rest of us or for being a 2nd male lead who knows!, swearing, hurt/comfort, ji changmin dancing. (need i go on), symptoms of panic/anxiety, a lot of non-tbz moments sorry i meant it when i said extra slow burn, pining haha...ha (very subtle)

▷ PART ONE WC. 18.5k

this is the third installment of the love in unity series! this can be read as a standalone, but i encourage u to read jacob and eric's storylines too! all prev and future yns will be referred to as _!yn ;) / otr part two

a/n: this was going to be a very quirky author's note, but it's not anymore bc i'm really mad at tumblr. pls enjoy :')

EPISODE ONE (PILOT): OFF THE CLOCK

"NIGHT, Yn!"

"Good night, Yn-ie."

"Make sure you get some rest, Yn-ah! Good luck with the report."

The door out of the laboratory building shuttered closed after your last coworkers and peers swept out to leave you to the white noise of the lights above your head and the cooling units. You were probably the only person crazy enough to still be chained to your lab workbench on a Friday night, especially when it was already six o'clock. Your stomach growled its complaints as you tucked a pen behind your ear with a sigh. There was probably a bag of shrimp chips in the break room snack stash, and you pushed your stool beneath the workbench to head into the break room.

Now that the laboratory was practically barren except for you, it wouldn't be a bad idea to take the reign of Kun's speaker…

The sound of your phone ringtone blared out loud from your pocket, and you scrambled to grab it with your other hand not occupied with shrimp chip crumb dust (after having washed your hands, of course). You put the call on speaker then deposited your phone onto the countertop so both hands could be used for eating. "Yo."

"You've been hanging around Mark too much," Yeri answered from the other end.

You snorted, covering your mouth for a moment, then replying, "Well good evening to you, too, my beloved. What's up?"

You could hear the muffled sounds of your friends from the other side of the phone. A car door slammed shut. "Hey-yo, is that Yn? Yn, what's up, my dude?"

"Mark, can you speak like a regular human?" That was Seungkwan. "Hi Yn-ie! We miss you, mwah!"

"Look, man. Me and Yn are homies, and this is literally just how I talk—"

The car door opened and Yeri must have taken initiative to get out of the car herself at this point. You laughed at her audible eye roll. "Okay, now that you've heard what I have to deal with, will you tell me that you're coming to the dance draft show tonight?"

Your mood soured.

It wasn't that you didn't want to go for Yeri's sanity's sake, you just didn't want to go, period. What the performing arts called a rehearsal, they referred to as a "draft" stage, where they planned rough runs of acts for the showcase. It just so happened that the dance department was holding their draft show for people to sit-in to watch tonight; their final showcase would be held on the Friday night of finals week, which was only in a few weeks now.

(Why did they call it a "draft" stage instead of simply a "rehearsal"? Well, you had no clue, and you didn't have any plans to ask anyone who would know the answer.)

When you didn't immediately answer, you heard Yeri's grumble. "Don't nerd out on me, Miss Yn Ln."

You gasped. "Nerd out on you? I'm being responsible—"

"You're being a workaholic!"

You pursed your lips together and quickly rinsed your fingers of shrimp chip crumbs. "Fair. But I'm sorry, I'm not going."

A brief pause. Then, the sigh. "Okay. That's okay," she said. "Wanna meet us for dinner afterwards at least?"

Your stomach grumbled, right on cue. It wasn't loud enough for Yeri to hear on the other end, but the timing made you laugh to yourself. "Definitely."

There was a smile in your friend's voice. "Cool! I'll text you details once we figure out what's happening. In the mean—" her voice was interrupted by the sound of muffled yelling on the other side, and Yeri pulled her mouth away from the phone so she could screech at Seungkwan, Mark, and now, Kim Jungwoo, to be quiet and put their seatbelts on. You heard vaguely about Jungwoo being late for his call time, and you were not at all surprised. She returned to the phone with a grumble. "You're really leaving me with the kids, Yn?"

You giggled. "Sorry, Yeri. I'll pay for your dinner."

"Deal. See you soon, babe."

"See ya, love!"

When the phone call ended, you realized just how thick the silence fell around you. It settled like a blanket over your senses, and it all became a bit overwhelming, especially after such a loud phone call.

You sighed, putting the shrimp chips back in the snack stash. You might as well go find where Kun hid his speaker to fill the silence then.

— ✶

People were yelling. And tripping. And crying.

In retrospect, this constituted as a normal backstage environment for something like a finals showcase draft rehearsal. It was hardly even a rehearsal, but more so a sneak peek showcase. There were people in the audience, after all.

Ji Changmin would know. This would be his third winter draft show out of his three years here in university. There were always showcases at the end of each quarter, but the winter show wielded the title of most anticipated. With the cold and rainy weather keeping most people indoors, it allowed for a larger crowd to come flocking toward said indoor modes of entertainment. Thus, the winter showcase and all of its hype.

Changmin lingered in his little corner of the backstage area, calmly stretching out his lanky limbs while chaos erupted all around him. He had two acts this time around—a duet with Lee Juyeon, as well as a solo performance. It had been enough to keep him busy for the quarter, among his other classes.

"—Jungwoo, you're late!"

He raised his head at the sound of Lee Minho’s voice from across the room, the dirty blond sending a deadpanned glare at the man in question. Kim Jungwoo’s eyes were wide with doe-like innocence as he made his way toward his friend, his posse following behind and taking in the chaos with amused awe. Changmin could easily recognize those present—Kim Yeri, Mark Lee, and Boo Seungkwan.

He turned his head away; it wasn’t his business, and he had much bigger things to worry about.

He raised his hands to his neck to put his headphones over his ears, but paused when he caught a few more echoes of their conversation.

“ — sorry Minho, but you know I can’t resist getting a free carpool ride,” Jungwoo said while setting his duffle bag in the corner and swiftly joining Minho in stretches. If Changmin was a hard ass when it came to dance and schedules, Minho was much worse. But Changmin respected him a lot, especially in a craft like dance and performance—he saw him as an equal.

A sigh from Minho. “Yeah, yeah. Poor Yeri.”

Yeri huffed, her hands shooting up into the air. “Thank you!”

Minho folded his arms over his chest as he stood up straight to stand next to Yeri as the two of them absentmindedly watched Jungwoo fold himself in two to stretch his long legs out. “Huh, no Yn tonight?”

Changmin didn’t know why he was still listening. He slowly lowered his headphones back to their position around his neck, then resumed stretching out his hamstrings. He could wait a couple more minutes before getting into his choreography…

“You know you’re not gonna see her anywhere near this place,” Yeri said with a pointed look. Changmin held back a retort, or even a snort. “Wanna get dinner with us tonight? She’s coming to meet us after the show.”

“Ah, I’d love to, but I promised Jisung I’d swing by the studio afterwards. Hey, have you met Ten yet? You should ask…”

Changmin decided that this was an appropriate moment to tune out. He swiftly donned his headphones and reached for his phone hidden in the pile of his duffle bag and jackets in the corner. He didn’t even know why he listened in when your friends brought you up. Why were you even still connected to the dance and performing arts department people anyway? He huffed, rolling his eyes with a small shake of his head. It wasn’t like you wanted to be connected to dance anyway. So why give him a constant reminder of your existence and the past you shared—

“Changminnie!” Juyeon appeared in front of him, waving to him with that goofy smile to get his attention.

Changmin broke into a smile as he shifted one side of his headphones from his ear. “Hey. Wanna go over some of the routine?”

Juyeon nodded. “Yeah, I’m ready. I was trying to get your attention, but I think you were just occupied.”

Whoops. Changmin flicked his wrist as he followed Juyeon down the hallway to a more private place to practice with his friend. “Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking of something.”

“Oh, okay,” Juyeon ducked his head into an empty dressing room in the back hallway, beckoning Changmin to follow him in. “Nothing to worry about though? You can talk to me; no judgment.”

Changmin chuckled and closed the door behind him. “Nah, nothing important. Let’s just focus on the performance.” Anything involving you? Definitely not important anymore.

— ✶

Late February brought the cold, bitter winds of night to the university, so the trek all the way across campus from the laboratory buildings to the performing arts hall was a hellish one. You kept your head tucked into the puffy collar of your puffer jacket, hands stuffed into your pockets, a happy tune blasting in your ears to keep you going all the way up the road. It was around nine o’clock by the time you made it to the front of the performing arts hall, and you could already see the sea of people meandering outside its doors post-draft show.

You shivered and pulled your phone out from your pocket to see where your friends were waiting for you.

“Yn-ie!”

Your head lifted and you grinned, waving your hand at Seungkwan who was making his way over to you. “Hi Kwannie,” you greeted and wrapped your arms around him in a warm embrace.

When you’d pulled away, Seungkwan made a face as he shuddered. “Jesus, it’s cold. I should have brought a scarf or something. Did you walk here?”

You began to nod, but he tsked. “Aish, Yn. You should’ve called! No one should have to walk in this torturous cold.”

You laughed. “It’s no big deal. We’re about to go get some hot food, so it’s cool.”

“We might have to wait for a little longer.” Both you and Seungkwan turned toward Yeri, Mark, and Jungwoo who were walking over. Jungwoo had a sweatband holding his bangs out of his face and his duffle slung over his shoulder. He had his jacket draped over his arm; he was probably warm from the showcase. “We’re waiting on Ten to finish up.”

“Hi Jungwoo,” you greeted him, and the man returned the expression with a side hug. You furrowed your brows. “Who’s Ten?’’

Mark replied with a sniffle from the cold, “Oh, he’s a new exchange student! Well, he was originally admitted here, but he went abroad for a year. He's with the NCT frat. Super cool, super funny. He’s great at dance though.”

“I think you’ll vibe with him, Yn,” Yeri chimed in. “He’s asking a couple people for their opinion on a few parts of his routine, so I think he’ll be out soon.”

You nodded in understanding. You didn’t mind waiting, but you hoped what Yeri said about him was true. Hopefully you did get along with him, because you were honestly far too tired to forcefully play nice. You were hoping for a chill night anyway. Then again, as long as you could avoid a certain someone tonight, this would turn out to be a chill night in general.

You and your friends chatted for a few minutes only before Jungwoo caught someone’s eyes from behind you, Yeri, and Mark. He brightened. “Ten! Ten, over here!”

You all swiveled.

Ten was just as lean and lithe as Jungwoo was, but with black bangs, a pair of round spectacles hanging from the collar of his white T-shirt, and a cute smile on his face. You and he made brief eye contact before Jungwoo was hopping on the balls of his feet to greet him.

Jungwoo slung an arm around Ten’s shoulders as he brought him over to the group. “Yn, this is Ten Lee. Ten, this is Yn-ie—the friend we mentioned earlier.”

Your eyes widened slightly. “Why was I mentioned?” You laughed nervously.

Ten flashed you a boyish kind of smile. “Oh, it was nothing; don’t worry. It’s nice to meet you though.”

Your heart didn't slow at his assurance. “Ah, okay then. Uh, nice to meet you, too!”

“Did you get your routine settled?” Seungkwan asked as the lot of you began to move in one, loose blob toward Yeri’s car. (How all of you would manage to fit, that was something you mentally were trying to figure out. In Yeri’s tiny sedan, you might have to squish four people into the back seat.)

Ten nodded enthusiastically. “Yup, it’s all sorted. Minho and Changmin were really helpful with their comments.”

You felt the people around you freeze at the mention of Changmin’s name. You stiffened as well, but tried to force the strange feeling to go away. Your friends knew the drill, too, but you saw the way they glanced at you from their periphery.

Ten was smart, you realized, when his head tilted at all of your reactions.

Time for damage control. “That’s—that’s good!” Mark’s voice cracked and coughed to clear it. “I mean, Minho’s always been really attentive to details and stuff. I think he was almost recruited to become an idol or something like that…”

Ten pursed his lips, as if silently saying, ‘I’m not buying this bull’. You decided to just… do it. “Changmin’s a great dancer, too,” you said, and everyone shot disbelieving glances your way, but you could already see how Ten was grasping onto everything you were saying. You forced a neutral tone into the way you spoke, forced yourself not to let the bitterness seep through. No one deserved to fall victim to the feelings that were only meant for one Ji Changmin. “I’m glad he helped you out. He’s really good at sharp movements and isolations.”

“Oh, do you dance, Yn?” Ten piped up with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Ruh roh,” you heard Seungkwan murmur, and he shuffled away from you to go to the other side of Yeri’s car.

Maybe you purposefully let him see right through you. “Not really. It was a long time ago.”

You and Ten held eye contact, the silent tension like communication passed between the two of you—this was personal, but Ten could figure out that there was more to the story. It was odd though; the way he didn’t fear prodding just a little bit. You didn’t know why you were letting yourself feed him more bait, but Yeri was hollering for the two of you to squeeze into the backseat, and you snapped out of it.

Weird…

Ten held the backseat door open for you. “Looking forward to getting to know you, Yn,” he said pleasantly.

Your eyes narrowed slightly as you slipped into the backseat. “Same to you…”

EPISODE TWO: OFF THE TABLE

YOUR curiosity won you out.

In fact, it won you over so much that you agreed to get coffee with Ten Saturday afternoon—with Mark and Yeri, of course. The four of you had coordinated stopping by one of the coffee shops in the shopping mall just down the hill from the university to hang out and destress a little from the incoming second wave of STEM midterms. Well, you needed to destress. Mark was in communications, Yeri in psychology, and Ten was… what was Ten’s major again?

“Foreign affairs,” he answered before lifting the straw of his iced americano to his lips. “Lots of foreign language classes and politics and history. Politics and capitalism classes are not my favorite, but all the cultural courses on campus are really great.”

You bobbed your head, propping your chin onto your palm. You sat across from him at one of high tables in the cafe; Mark and Yeri’s stools were barren, save for the belongings they left for you and Ten to watch, while they literally sprinted across the mall to the grocery store because they forgot they were supposed to bring booze to the NCT-RVE joint alumni homecoming tonight. You probably weren’t going to go just because social energy came in short supply these days, but you promised to send a card for your friends in RVE.

“I can imagine,” you commented. “I took a really neat course on African tribes and culture in freshman year, and I miss my professor a lot. I sometimes wonder what would have happened had I joined his study abroad program in Ghana instead of staying here.”

Ten’s head did the tilt thing again, the one you recognized from last night as something he did when he was intrigued. “That does sound really cool. What made you stay?”

Where do I even begin? “My major,” you replied simply. It wasn’t really a lie—not entirely a lie. You sipped on your latte, a faraway look in your eyes. “I was so set on a plan that I guess I got nervous about the unknown should I have gone on that trip.”

“Mm, I understand.” He had taken on a softer look now, something more akin to empathy. “It is a little scary, but while I was in Indonesia, I realized I wouldn’t have traded such an experience for anything else."

You set your cup down. "Have you always wanted to dabble in global affairs?"

"Uh, I'm not sure," he said, head tilted upward with a scrunch in his nose. He nudged his glasses up the smooth slope of his sculpted nose. "I was kind of put in a situation where I had to learn a lot of new languages, and I luckily turned out to be pretty good at picking up on them."

"Wow, that's really cool," you chuckled. A talent you definitely envied. And it seemed like Ten had made the decision to pursue this future of his on his own. You wished you could say the same.

From the counter of the café, you heard one of the workers call out your order number for cinnamon rolls, fresh from the oven.

You began to slip off your stool, and Ten spoke up, "Oh, I can totally go get those."

"It's no problem," you chirped, "I'm already down anyway." You were swift to scurry over to the counter and pick up your table's tray of cinnamon rolls with a smile at the worker in deep gratitude. The thick, warm sweetness wafted into your nose, and you inhaled the delights with a blissful grin.

However, as you turned to head back to the table, you halted abruptly, nearly knocking the plates on the tray into each other.

There, standing next to your table and chatting with Ten, were Ji Changmin and Choi Chanhee.

Great.

The sweet dessert smell soured and tasted like acid on your tongue. Bitter, like the taste of hot coffee straight from the pot. You schooled your face into neutrality, but there was no way all of the uncomfortableness could stay away.

You made your way over; the tray was getting heavy.

"—actually here with Yn, Mark, and Yeri—" Ten was pointing your way and you had to control your urge to hide.

Changmin and Chanhee's heads turned in sync, but only Changmin's eyes narrowed at the sight of you. You returned the expression wholeheartedly.

Chanhee held his breath, muttering a "Yikes" under his breath, while Ten observed the interaction with slightly parted lips. Huh.

"Ji."

"Ln."

You deposited the tray onto the table and your biceps sighed in relief. Those four cinnamon rolls truly were quite hefty on their own.

You could still feel Changmin’s eyes on you as you slid onto the stool across from Ten. “Something you’d like to say to me?” You addressed him with ill-suppressed snark.

Changmin’s eyes narrowed. “Nothing that you’ll take into importance anyway. Just didn’t think you would ever hang out with someone from the dance department.”

“Ten’s got a life outside of dance, Changmin,” you replied. You flashed him a thin-lipped smile. “He gets it.”

“And you’re so much better than me for having a so-called life,” he rolled his eyes. “You know, some people are just really passionate about dance—something you seem to still not understand.”

“I really don’t think you want me to bring up the trove of things you don’t understand—”

Chanhee subtly moved over to Ten’s side as the two of them observed the sparring match between you and Changmin. A sigh fell from his lips, and his eyebrows raised up all the way to his pink-dyed hairline.

Ten had taken one of the plates of cinnamon buns in front of him, silently offering Chanhee some. The latter refused, and Ten began to peel away one of the sultry, sweet dough layers. “Is this… normal?” He asked Chanhee under his breath, motioning to the still-bickering couple across from them.

Chanhee snorted. “It’s their mating call.”

It seemed he had said those four words loud enough to catch yours and Changmin’s attention. A miracle, indeed.

“Ew,” both you and Changmin immediately grimaced at Chanhee. Then you looked at one another with a greater degree of disgust. “Stop copying me!”

…Or, less so a miracle, but rather, a tragedy.

Chanhee let out a haggard sigh, eyes sullen to a deadpan. “One of the few things the two of you will ever agree on.”

“The last thing we’ll ever agree on,” Changmin grumbled as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “C’mon Chanhee. We should probably order before JC!Yn and Kei finish loading up the car.”

Changmin was already making his way over to the cashier when Ten managed to get in a final question, “Are you guys coming to the NCT-RVE homecoming tonight?”

“Sure—”

“No.”

Chanhee sent Ten an apologetic look for Changmin’s brusque answer. “Sorry about him. We were thinking of it, but he might be practicing with Juyeon tonight. See you later, Ten—and Yn!” He chased after Changmin, ambushing his friend by practically leaping onto his back and then smacking his shoulder.

Now that Changmin was away from you, the red in your vision had begun to clear away, and you finally remembered the set of delicious cinnamon rolls waiting for you.

Ten propped his cheek against his fist. “So… you and Changmin…”

You made a sour face as you cut off a slice of your cinnamon roll. “What about the gremlin?” You asked. As soon as the buttery, sweet delight hit your tongue, you felt your body lighten and you did a little happy dance in your seat.

Ten chuckled at your behavior. “Lovers gone wrong?”

You choked on the bite.

Your new friend’s eyes widened comically to the size of saucers as he literally pounced across the table to pat your back. “Shit—sorry, Yn. I probably should’ve waited for you to finish swallowing, huh?” He winced when you’d managed to breathe correctly and washed the bite of food down with a sip of coffee. He returned to his perch, letting you recover while he talked through his thoughts. “I don’t mean to pry—actually—” he paused, reconsidering, “—I do mean to pry. Sorry, I’m kind of a sucker for this kind of stuff.”

One of your eyes squinted at him as you massaged your throat. “Yeah, I kind of figured.”

He beamed at you boyishly, the kind of expression that almost had your defenses slipping. Almost. Ten was one slippery fellow. For some reason, you kind of respected him for being upfront about the nosiness, and if you were being honest, if this drama wasn’t yours, you would also be curious about the whole thing.

“Can’t help myself sometimes,” he confessed with a mere shrug. “You don’t owe an explanation or backstory, of course.”

You sucked in a breath, opting to hold back on eating your pastry until you and Ten were done with this topic. “I’m just going to say that Changmin and I were not ‘lovers gone wrong’,” you said, body shuddering.

“Mm,” he hummed. His eyes wandered behind you and over your head, swiftly followed by the action of waving to Changmin and Chanhee on their way out of the cafe. “It’s just interesting to me. Didn’t you just advocate for him the other night at the draft show?”

That rang a bell, unfortunately. “It’s complicated.”

Ten pressed his mouth into a saccharine smile. “I can imagine.”

EPISODE THREE: OFF THE PHONE

THERE was an avid knocking at the laboratory door, usually done by those who didn’t actually work at this specific lab. This lab area was usually reserved for upperclassmen and graduate students and their work.

“Yn-ie, could you get the door, please?” You heard Kun called out to you from his office. It wasn’t just the two of you tonight, but rather, just a few others you didn’t know as well as you did Kun. He often worked late hours like you did, always overworking himself even more as a fresh grad student. You, on the other hand, were trying to finish up this one research paper resulting from last quarter’s research project. If you were lucky, you would be able to send it off to be peer reviewed soon.

You slipped out from behind your workbench and maneuvered the maze of workbenches to head out into the corridor. Exhaustion wore at your bones from having such a long day, but you really did need to get some productive work done so you could focus specifically on your midterms approaching at the end of this week and the beginning of the following week.

However, as you turned the corner into the corridor, you nearly missed your footing. At the end of the hallway where the glass door to the outside was, you found yourself identifying one Ji Changmin and his friend, someone you didn’t recognize. The latter wore a gray hoodie beneath a black puffer vest, and he reacted the opposite to how Changmin did when they caught sight of you.

“Hey! Could you open the door, please?” Not-Changmin hollered through the glass, furiously shaking his sweater-pawed hand down at the door handle.

You didn’t want to. God, you really didn’t want to.

Changmin stared you down, as if daring you to come closer.

You opened the door, and let the cool gust of late February air and two outsiders into the safety and warmth of the laboratory building.

Hoodie Guy shuddered violently to get the cold out of his system. “Jesus, it’s cold outside. Thanks,” he said to you. Then he nudged Changmin with his elbow, as if jolting the man into reality.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, words directed toward Changmin in particular.

His dark bangs were tucked beneath a black beanie with his pair of black headphones hanging around his neck. “You think I want to be here?”

His friend sent him a look, his eyes flickering between you and Changmin furiously until the pieces clicked into his mind. “Well, uh oh…” he muttered while turning away slightly to scratch his head. He gathered his wits then. “Uh, Yn, right?”

You perked up. “Yes.”

“Uh,” he drawled. “We’re actually here for Jacob Bae. You see, we told him we’d come pick him up to take him over to—”

“Is he here?” Changmin asked.

Your eyebrow shot upward. At least they were here for a proper reason. You crossed your arms over your chest, glancing back toward the main laboratory floor way down the hall. Man, the safe zone felt so far away. “He actually just left like, ten minutes ago. Sorry.” The apology was said to Changmin’s friend, the one who seemed to have been able to figure out who exactly you were to Changmin. Not that you were anything to him. And did Changmin just talk about you to all his friends or something—?

“Oh.”

Changmin tapped his friend with the back of his hand. “C’mon Sunwoo. We’ll just meet him over there.”

Sunwoo wrinkled his nose. “I just think it’s weird that he didn’t text us to let us know before we came over here.”

There was a pause and you could practically see the gears in Changmin’s head turning. You would have left them to their own company, but you technically weren’t allowed to leave unauthorized students alone.

It was strange seeing Changmin break into something akin to sheepishness. You saw the dimples appear in the apples of his cheeks as he cupped the back of his neck. “I might not have told him we were coming…”

Sunwoo’s eyes and mouth widened and he whacked his friend with the length of his hoodie sleeve. Changmin let out one of those hyena laughs that set off triggers in your mind. It’d been awhile since you heard that… “Hyung! You’re so unreliable sometimes, oh my god. Even Eric would have remembered to tell him!”

Changmin made a noise of dismissal, slinging an arm around his friend. “Ah, it’s fine. We’ll just meet him there—as you said.”

“Worst texter award goes to,” Sunwoo rolled his eyes.

“I guess some things never change.” The words slipped out of your mouth before you could stop yourself, and both Sunwoo and Changmin suddenly remembered that you were in the hallway with them. Sunwoo had perked up as if he were surprised you would even comment on their situation, but Changmin cut an unreadable expression your way. You didn’t want to read into it.

“You literally forgot to answer a text I sent for three days,” Changmin quipped.

Well, if he was going to play the back and forth game. “That was once out of how many other times,” you scoffed. “You refused to answer anyone’s texts in the mornings anyway, so don't get on my case about that.”

“He did that to you, too?!” Sunwoo cut in with fire behind his words.

You could’ve sworn you saw the slightest bit of blush grace Changmin’s cheekbones as you hid a laugh behind your hand. “He did that to everyone—”

“Hey, I’m better over call; you know that!” Changmin argued. “Sunwoo, you can’t even talk about being a bad texter. I have to hunt for you on discord sometimes to get a straight answer.”

Sunwoo groaned, “Yah! Whatever. It’s still better than your average three-business-day reply speed.”

Changmin stammered, “It is not an average of three business days.” If your ears were not deceiving you, Ji Changmin was whining. “It’s a couple hours at least.”

“A couple hours means half a day,” you said to Sunwoo.

Changmin whipped his attention back to you, finger jabbed accusingly in your direction. “Hey, missy! You always fell asleep on-call, even when you promised that you would stay up to help me study.”

You shook your head. “Not my fault! You know that I always fell asleep around midnight back then.”

“Well, back then—”

“Is everything okay out here?”

Everything in the corridor came to a stand still, and Changmin closed his mouth, mid-sentence. Kun had his head poking out of the door to the main floor, a crease pressed between his brows and right above the rim of his thin spectacles. He eyed the two non-laboratory students with a slight grimace. Of course, Kun was aware of who Changmin was. He could recognize him because of his famed performer reputation on campus, but he knew his history with you because you had spent far too many late nights here at the lab with things plaguing your mind. You and Kun both had a problem with trouble sleeping and being workaholics.

You turned slightly to Kun. “Yeah, everything’s okay, Kun-ge.”

He sent you an unimpressed look.

“We,” Changmin piped up as he urged Sunwoo to the door, “were just leaving.” The mirth and fire from the bickering just a few seconds ago had faded, and you could feel him slipping away.

Kun drummed his fingers along the doorframe, eyebrows shooting up for a second. “Oh-kay… Yn-ie, Ten says he’s right around the corner and asks if you want some company walking home.”

The door to the laboratory behind you was held open, and the night breeze brushed through your hair. When you looked back, you saw that Changmin had stalled in the door for a second. But, it had only been that second before he and his friend were gone.

“Oh.” You made your way over to Kun. “That’s really cool of him. I’d love that.” Some company on a late-night walk back to your apartment did not sound bad at all. You’d done plenty of trips on your own, but sometimes having even one person with you would have been nice.

Kun nodded, pursing his lips, as the two of you walked into the main lab together and toward his office off to the side. “Okay, I’ll let him know. You’re for sure okay though? That must have been… not nice, seeing Changmin here.”

You gave a stiff shrug, your hip leaning against the door of his office while Kun settled back at his desk. “It’s fine,” you said. To be honest, you weren’t even sure if that was a lie or not. You’d heard Changmin laugh for the first time in years. You’d seen the dimples in his cheeks, the sheepishness in his expression—you swallowed.

Once upon a time, you associated all of those things with something like happiness. Your happiness.

Kun fixed you with a pointed look. “If you need to talk.”

You gave a firm nod. “I know where to find you.”

He clicked his tongue, shooting you a finger gun, then shooed you off to finish your work and pack your things. Ten was just around the corner, after all.

EPISODE FOUR: OFF THE RECORD

CHANGMIN liked to think that he became nosy, and that he wasn't born this way. But ever since he overheard that Kun guy asking about Ten wanting to walk you home, he couldn't help but wonder…

He shook his head, brushing his hair out of his eyes and off his forehead, before those same bangs flopped back into their place. He walked back onto the main stage of the performing arts hall to the soundtrack of a hype playlist blasting from the ears of his headphones. As he made his way past groups and individuals doing their own thing, he absentmindedly searched for one person in particular.

Conveniently, he found Ten setting himself up right by Changmin's things. He was shouldering off his black puffer jacket, rolling the material up into a manageable ball to shove into his duffle bag.

"Hey," Changmin greeted, bending down slightly to grab his water bottle.

Ten straightened and flashed him a smile. "Hey."

It wouldn't be awkward would it? Probably not. Just be cool about it, Changmin. He smiled slightly, the dimples in his cheeks disarming his acquaintance. "I didn't know you and Yn were close."

Your name felt so… foreign, yet familiar, on his tongue. It was like tasting déjà vu, like eating a treat from childhood that had been associated with good feelings, but he couldn't decide if it was still as good as he remembered or a trick of his mind.

The mention of your name brought a jolt of energy to Ten's body and Changmin saw the man lean into the conversation. Curious… "Oh? Well, I mean—" he gave a shrug, "—she's really cool. She just seems like a good person to get to know, y'know? Why do you ask?"

Changmin couldn't tell how much he trusted the slight narrowing of Ten's feline eyes. There was no way you hadn't mentioned him to Ten at some point or another. To be honest, he didn't like the feeling of you still lingering in his head if he didn't linger in yours. It meant a myriad of things that he loathed to admit.

He let the feeling slide away, let his mouth tilt upward like his eyes to the spotlights in the ceiling. "Just be…" He shook his head. "Nothing. It's nothing." He flicked his wrist, as he spun his water bottle cap on tight. "You can forget about it."

Ten sent him a look that Changmin pointedly ignored.

Somewhere within the depths of the performing arts center, Changmin could hear the howling laughter of his friend Hyunjae as he most likely bugged his best friend out of her mind, both to her chagrin and her delight. That was another can of worms entirely.

Ten piped up as he settled onto the backstage floor while Changmin mentally went through some of the problem sets he had to review today. "If you don't mind me asking, why are you and Yn on such… uneven ground with each other?"

There it was. Changmin snorted. "Uneven ground? I don't even know if we're on the same ground."

"You're both really friendly people," Ten added, "so it just doesn't make sense to me."

Changmin pursed his lips. He never felt the need to divulge this stuff to anyone but his friends, but he didn't know what Ten already knew. He didn't know what you told him, but based on the fact that Ten wasn't looking at him the same way you did… Changmin scratched the back of his head and leaned his side against the wall to face him. "Something happened a long time ago. I guess we just both hold a grudge well."

Ten huffed a laugh in response. "Remind me never to get on your bad side then," he joked.

— ✶

There was a buzz about the university newspaper room. The Daily had only a handful of crew members onboard, mainly because it was so selective. Over the past few years that you had been apart of the staff, you and a few others had gradually loosened the reputation of the Daily's elitist interview process—there was still some level of intimidation that ensured the publication took on the hard workers and not those simply looking for an extracurricular to put on their resume though.

So when there was talk of a new staff member, everyone knew about it.

You let yourself in the door with a sigh, brushing the hair from your eyes held up with a random, blue claw clip you found on your bathroom sink. The bus had been late this morning because it broke down, but you luckily were able to make it to your lecture on time. You had run over here for a quick meeting that Kim Doyoung had summoned you for, no doubt about the new hire.

"Hey guys," you said as you passed by clusters of desks piled with copyedits and heads buried in monitor screens. The sounds of typing stopped briefly with each head you walked past:

"Yn!"

"Hi Yn!"

"Sup Yn—HEY! I just did my hair this morning!" Mark yelped, hands smoothing down the braids in his hair.

You giggled as you patted his head. "Your hair needs a break, Mark."

As you disappeared around the corner, you heard him shout back, "So do you, but you never hear me complaining!"

You rolled your eyes with an ill-concealed smile. The door to Doyoung's little editor in chief office was right down the hall next to the office for the sponsoring professor. As much as you and the others teased him about getting the "Boss man" office, he always complained to you about being on edge with the professor's office next door. You didn't quite understand since Professor Woo was almost never in his office anyway, but you supposed you could see.

Doyoung's door was open, and the fourth year's head perked up at the sound of your voice and nearing footsteps. He didn't even wait for you to knock or say hi, before beckoning you inside. "Yn, thank god you know how to hustle. Close the door on your way in. Thanks."

Your eyebrows shot up at the terseness in his tone, but didn't question him until you'd closed the door and settled into the chair opposite him. His desk, much like those outside, was covered in a sea of paper, with his laptop being the only land in sight. "What's up? You sound stressed."

He shot you a look over the rims of his thin glasses. "When am I not stressed?"

"Valid."

"Okay," he began with a sigh that made your concern rise just a bit more, "you know the situation with our performing arts review section, right?"

You nodded. "Of course."

The situation with the performing arts review section of the paper was inherently a mess. For a handful of years, the performing arts section was written under a pseudonym (lovingly dubbed Opera Glasses)—the identity of the reviewer was anonymous—which was a product of an incident a few years ago where a performer was unhappy with a review left by someone on the paper and came to ask, very unkindly, for a rewrite. Since then, the paper had been swallowed up by so much that finding a permanent writer or reviewer for the section became less and less of a priority.

When you joined the publishing team, it had been in the middle of freshman year when you were also putting your application out for research projects. Joining had felt like the right thing to do, as much as it was an act of rebellion against your mother and your childhood. They had asked if you knew anything about dance of all things.

And well, you did know.

You'd written one piece—one piece that was entirely you. It had been for one of the dancers just debuting at his first winter showcase. Since then, you couldn't stomach writing another one or watching another one.

You ghost wrote, you edited, you advised—but you stuck to putting your energy into covering the STEM-related sections of the paper now.

So Doyoung already knew your relationship with the performing arts review section. "Well," he cleared his throat, making a vague flourish with his hand, "I'm sure you already know that I just interviewed a new prospective recruit. I was wondering if you would be willing to take them under your wing and to show them the ropes."

Oh. That wasn't exactly what you expected him to say. Your heart kicked up for an entirely new reason, however. You'd always wanted to be someone's mentor. To be someone's older sister. "I mean, yeah. I'd love to," you stammered, a smile slowly curling onto your lips. "That would be really cool."

Doyoung sighed, his shoulders sinking in relief. "Thank you."

"But wait." You cocked your head to the side as you asked, "What does Opera Glasses have to do with this?"

"I want her to eventually take over for it," he explained. "She knows quite a bit about theater and music—little less about dance, though. I know that you have your issues with the dance department, but out of everyone here, you probably understand dance stuff the most. I just ask that you help her out a little with that, and maybe even introduce her to some of the people there so we can ease her in with interviews—"

You opened your mouth to interrupt him, but he sent you a pointed look. He continued, "Just hear me out, okay? If you're uncomfortable at all, you can back out. And you don't even have to back out right now or completely; maybe you could have Mark introduce her to Jungwoo for interviews, and you can just stick to the behind-the-scenes stuff."

Doyoung exhaled. "Okay, so what are your thoughts?"

You worried your bottom lip between your teeth. What did you think… What did you think?

Even the thought of stepping foot into a practice room made the yelling and screams echo in the caverns of your mind. But you'd missed them—missed the polished wood floors, the floor-to-ceiling mirrors, the people. God, you couldn't even stay away from the people if you tried, no matter how much you tried convincing yourself you could.

You weren't fooling anyone.

You swallowed. You'd always wanted to be a big sister.

What was the harm in giving this a try?

(Changmin. You'd probably run into Changmin a lot more often than if you didn't accept. But you could see him from that one night: the sheepishness, the dimples, the laugh. Why couldn't you get over that interaction?)

You mustered up your courage and straightened in your seat. "I'll still do it. When do we start?"

EPISODE FIVE: OFF THE MARK

IT turned out that Doyoung intended for you and your new recruit, Bae Sumin, to get started right away. With the winter showcase only a couple weeks away, it was imperative that the two of you dived right in.

"—so what made you interested in joining the team?" You asked, shoving your hands into your jacket pockets to hide signs of nervousness from your underclassman peer. The two of you were walking from the Daily's newsroom and over to the performing arts center. It was about a ten minute walk, but you figured that it would give you two the opportunity to get to know one another.

Sumin was a multimedia major, as you had been told earlier when the two of you just met for the first time in the entryway of the Daily newsroom. She was cute and well-dressed—she wore a pleated skirt and sweater with a white collar peeking through. Her smile was dazzling, and reminded you of someone who would do well on stage. No wonder she had theater and performing experience.

"Oh!" She shot you one of those dazzling smiles, her hand shooting up to shift the white, fluffy earmuffs seated over her head. "I actually had a cousin who came here and shared with me some of the Daily's earlier issues. She always said it was kind of competitive to get in, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to try."

You bobbed your head. "That's really cool." A small laugh fell from your lips, "I'm glad you did try! Lots of people just assume they're gonna get turned away and they don't try at all, you know?"

Sumin hummed in understanding.

Something had settled nicely in your chest throughout this walk. Even if your past anxieties were beginning to bubble up to the surface at the sight of the nearing performing arts buildings, Sumin's easy conversation calmed you. It was one less thing to worry about.

Yesterday, when Doyoung had proposed this job for you, you had asked Mark to accompany you and Sumin to the arts buildings. He couldn't walk with you two, but he promised to meet you there. Now, you were kind of glad you got to have this bit of bonding time with her.

“I think Doyoung said that I should introduce you to a few people in particular,” you said offhandedly and pulled your phone out to check yours and Doyoung’s text thread.

Sumin did the same, most likely taking out any notes she had taken from Doyoung’s instructions. “Yeah, something like Lee Minho, Kim Jungwoo… the Hwang?—the Hwang siblings, uhm and Ji Changmin…?”

Your footing faltered for a second, and Sumin asked if you were all right, but you recovered quickly. You let out an embarrassed laugh, feeling heat crawl up your neck. Why in the world did his name catch you off guard like that? Maybe it was because you assumed Doyoung would just let you avoid Changmin, but realistically, if Sumin was going to do an interview with the dance department’s most prominent members, then there was no avoiding Changmin.

You just had to suck it up and be an adult about it.

It was three years ago… What was the big deal?

But as you moved to open the door to the backstage area for Sumin with your ID card, you felt your throat tighten in on itself. You forced a smile to your face as you let Sumin go in before you so you could turn your head out to inhale a large lungful of fresh air. Then, you ducked in after her.

The backstage corridors were as hustle n' bustle as you expected them to be. The lights were dim-looking from the black walls and floors marred with scuff marks from years upon years of use. It was an overwhelming tidal wave of sensory details—what, with the clashing sounds of chatter and music, the smell of some kind of polish (or maybe that was resin?), the warmth of energy in the air and all around you.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood like you could sense someone was coming this way.

You gestured down the opposite direction to Sumin. “Come on; I’m pretty sure they’re down this way.”

It was a curious thing, memory. You could recall late nights of catching the bus to these very practice rooms and backstage rooms from when you were in high school. Performing on the stage was a whole other experience in itself, and though part of you missed it, there were other feelings that dominated the hints of nostalgia now.

You could hear the chatter even clearer now, even if their words were muddled.

The door to one of the larger practice rooms were left ajar, and though you only peered in, you felt the warmth hit you like a wave. Your throat was closing up again—breathe—

“Hey,” you said into the room, catching quite a few eyes. From an initial scan, you determined that Changmin wasn’t amongst the crush of people socializing in here, and you couldn’t identify the feeling manifesting in the pit of your stomach.

Jungwoo was the first to bound over toward you, swiftly followed by Minho and Hyunjin, one of the Hwang siblings. “Yn-ie! I can’t believe you actually came. I thought Doyoung was joking.”

A smile made its way onto your lips and you accepted Jungwoo’s side hug. “Yeah, well Doyoung doesn’t joke around.”

“He really doesn’t,” Hyunjin said with a grimace. “He’s kind of scary, that one.”

“If you can survive Minho,” you said to him, “then you can survive Doyoung.”

Minho made a face at you. “What have I ever done to you, Yn?”

Nothing; this is just me trying to pretend I’m not seconds away from quivering like a leaf in the wind. You laughed. “Nothing yet. Guys, I'd like you to meet Sumin. She’s our new recruit at the Daily, and she’s gonna be the one conducting interviews for the winter showcase this year.”

Sumin didn’t need much prompting to smile and wave at your friends in that same charming way. “Hi, nice to meet you!”

The three dancers before you replied in kind. Jungwoo offered to introduce her to some of the others in the room, and before you knew it, she was swept away.

Hyunjin made a comment about needing to go check up on a friend of his, leaving you and Minho chatting to the side of the room.

“Wow,” Minho said offhandedly as the two of you watched Jungwoo and Sumin work their way around the room, “she’s a natural at this. Where’d Kim find this one?”

“She saw some of our older issues,” you replied. You watched as Sumin ignited a sort of brightness in every conversation she started. You struggled to swallow; now that you didn’t feel obligated to keep up appearances, especially in front of Sumin, your jitteriness was beginning to come on just a little stronger. You absentmindedly massaged your throat, willing it to loosen up.

Minho glanced over at you, his eyes catching your anxious actions. “Must have a lot of confidence in her if he’s throwing her straight into taking charge of interviews. How’re you holding up?” The latter was said lowly and under his breath in case someone just happened to be close enough to catch onto your conversation.

Minho didn’t know your history with the dance department as thoroughly as your close friends did, but it didn’t take a genius to see that you weren’t at your absolute best right now. You gave a stiff shrug. “I’m alright,” you managed to say.

He nodded, though it was probably more for your sake than him saying he believed you. “It’s funny,” he drawled, “one might think that by sending you here on behalf of the paper, that you were behind Opera Glasses.”

Now that, you could let out a genuine chuckle at.

Minho gauged your reaction but smiled to himself. He wasn’t one to really care for the drama and gossip side that came privy to the performing arts review section, but you couldn’t blame him if he was curious.

“That would be really stupid if that was the case,” you mused.

“It would be,” he agreed. “Is this a sign that this will be the end of Opera Glasses then? Finally a face to the name?”

You pursed your lips. “Actually, I’m not too sure what Doyoung will end up doing. I’m sure he’ll call for a board meeting to decide what the review’s fate will be, but it’s not exactly our top priority—”

Your voice and words trailed off as your eyes met a pair coming into the practice room. You and Changmin froze at the sight of one another, two deer caught in headlights, and you felt your heart palpitate violently in your chest. Your breath left your lungs—his expression was filled with surprise, until it morphed into something you couldn’t read.

“What are you doing here?” He deadpanned.

Minho’s eyebrows shot up. “You didn’t know Yn was stopping by? We all got the email from Director Lee, man.”

Changmin pressed his mouth together and it made the dimple in his cheek deepen. He looked you up and down, and he opened his mouth to say something else, but paused when you unconsciously brushed your thumb against the hollow of your throat. (Dear god, why couldn’t you breathe? Breathe, breathe, breathe—)

He seemed to lose whatever he was going to say. You swore the sharpness in his gaze softened.

But then his jaw tightened; you didn’t know why. “I didn’t think you’d actually show,” he muttered under his breath.

Ouch.

The words from his mouth pricked uncomfortably at the back of your mind. You found your voice again. “I’ll be gone before you know it,” you replied tersely.

Your response touched a nerve for him, too. He cut his attention to the rest of the practice room. “Where’s your new girl?”

“Over there,” you said, inclining your head across the room where Sumin and Hwang Yeji were currently swapping contact information. Something soared in your chest at the sight, but you couldn’t tell if it was pride or envy.

Without any additional prompting, you watched Changmin make his way toward Sumin and away from you. You didn’t realize you were holding in a breath until you finally exhaled—

“Yn! Sorry I’m late.” Mark bumbled into the practice room, wiping a drop of sweat from his forehead as he quite literally crashed against the wall next to you and Minho. He was panting and gasping for breath, and you and Minho couldn’t help but express your amusement.

“It’s all cool, dude,” you assured while patting his head.

“I should probably get back to it,” Minho said as he began walking away from you and Mark. “Nice to see you, Mark. Feel free to take a water bottle from the green room.”

Mark thumped his head against the wall with his eyes closed. “Thanks, man,” he huffed.

With a snicker under his breath, Minho went his separate way.

You gave Mark a moment to catch a breath or two, and you slid down next to him against the practice room wall. Folding your knees up against your chest, you copied Mark’s position with his head tilted back as you both inhaled through your nostrils and breathed out through slightly parted lips. While Mark might have been trying to get a moment of rest from (no doubt) running here from the bus stop, you were trying to steady yourself.

The anxiety was starting to make your hands feel numb cold.

“You don’t have to stay, y’know,” came Mark’s voice, followed by the back of his hand gently nudging your arm. When your eyes fluttered open, you found him already looking at you. “You asked for my help; you can go take a breather outside and come back in—or maybe don’t—whatever you’re comfortable with. This can’t be easy.”

You were struggling to swallow again. One of your hands drummed messily against your kneecap. “It’s—” you shook your head, “—I’ll be okay. Thanks for coming though.”

“Yeah, dude. Of course.”

Something prodded at the side of your head, like someone was staring at you, but when you turned to see, it was just Changmin talking to Sumin. They were both smiling and making good conversation, it seemed.

You let out a sigh and closed your eyes again. Wishful thinking.

— ✶

Mark stayed behind to “vibe” with the remaining dancers still at the performing arts building while you and Sumin pushed out into the crisp, cool evening. Even after walking all the way to the bus station, your hands were still numb, and the cold definitely wasn’t helping.

“How do you feel about the dance interviews now?” You found yourself asking Sumin as the two of you sat on the bench at the station waiting for the bus to come pick the two of you up.

Sumin beamed. “I definitely feel a bit more secure about conducting them. I’ll definitely need some help with dance terminology and editing and stuff though.”

You nodded. “No problem at all.”

“The people are all really so chill and nice…” Your eyes definitely weren’t tricking you when you saw the bashfulness that her expression took on, and the little giggle you heard could not have been the wind. “Especially Changmin.”

Ha. What.

A weight fell to the pit of your stomach. Maybe you were hearing things… “Sorry?”

She blinked, and the blush on her cheekbones darkened. “Oh, haha, it’s nothing! I just… he was really sweet, and he has a really pretty smile and stuff—do you—uh, do you know if his previous dance showcase performances are online?”

(Something about that detail—he has a really pretty smile—rang a bell for you.)

It was really an innocent question, but you knew if Sumin went searching online for Changmin, and if she went deep enough, she’d find you there, too. You sucked in a breath. “I can—” you winced inwardly, “—send you some of his performances, if you want?”

You couldn’t deny the warm and fuzzy feeling in your chest when Sumin practically lit up at your suggestion. “Would you? I would really appreciate it, Yn! You’re the best.”

From your periphery, you saw the bus approach from down the street, and you gestured for the both of you to stand up and get your ID cards ready to board. You sent her a small smile—at least it felt good to help her out. You could pretend for a second that this was just a little crush or infatuation on some other colleague of yours that Sumin had. “Yeah, no worries.” No worries at all.

EPISODE SIX: OFF THE [TOP OF YOUR] HEAD

FRIDAY night brought you, Seungkwan, and Doyoung to the hotpot place located in the university district. The three of you were the unconventional combination of your friends, but Kun and Ten were supposedly on their way over as of five minutes ago. Thus, with the last of your party nearing, the three of you deigned to begin ordering almost everything off the menu—just to whet your appetites, of course.

Doyoung slumped down in his seat across from you and Seungkwan as soon as the waiter left to input your table's hefty order. "Ugggggggh."

Seungkwan snorted. "Ah, my favorite sound."

Doyoung passed him a dirty look over his lenses. "Is that sarcasm I hear, Boo Seungkwan?"

"I have no idea what you mean," he said with feigned innocence as he looked away and scratched the side of his head.

You chuckled to yourself, drawing your phone out from the inner pocket of your puffer jacket when you heard the series of buzzes. Your screen lit up with notifications from Sumin, all of them thanking you profusely for the spam of links you'd sent her way. These were on top of the videos you had dug up from your secret locked folder in your phone—and here you were, wondering why in the world you were doing this to yourself and for her?

"I can't decide if I dread Doyoung's noises of discontent or your expressions of pain more," Seungkwan commented, effectively pulling your focus away from your phone.

Both of your friends were now looking at you, patiently awaiting your answer to what ailed you tonight. Where should you begin?

"I'm not in pain," you scoffed. You set your phone facedown on the table next to you to avoid looking at the notifications. Huh. "Did I look like I was in pain?"

Doyoung's smile was wide like his eyes as he nodded. "Yup," he chirped in that sweet sarcasm of his. "Like you'd just watched a video of someone stubbing their toe against a doorframe."

Seungkwan blinked. "That's so—specific."

"You do not want to know what my For You Page looks like—"

You recreated the look of pain from earlier, holding your palm up. "Respectfully, Doie? I don't."

Seungkwan let out another snort of delight and had to hold a hand in front of his mouth.

Doyoung leveled a half-hearted scowl at you. "You're lucky I'm not your boss right now."

"As opposed to every other moment in time?"

"You have a mouth on you tonight."

"I do like to use it every so often," you quipped, the corner of your mouth lifting in an amused smirk.

Doyoung sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "I don't get paid enough for this."

"You're literally not getting paid at all—" Your words were sliced off at their end when you gasped—it was all a blur: a mass of reddish-brown hair, your phone snatched from right in front of you— "SEUNGKWAN!"

Seungkwan held his breath with an impish grin as he turned his back to you and shielded your phone from your attempts to get it back. "I just wanna see!" He said with a cackle. "Every time you've looked at your phone today, you looked like you wanted to fall into an abyss."

You glared at him, pulling away to cross your arms firmly over your chest. "You can't just steal my phone, dude!"

"What's so important on your phone anyway, Yn-ie?" Doyoung asked good naturedly, reaching for his glass of ice water. "You're usually not so attached to that thing."

Your lips snapped shut and you wondered if the heat creeping up to your face was obvious.

"You've been sending Changmin videos to Sumin?!" Seungkwan bursted out, his eyes so wide that you could see your reflection in his pupils. As you'd feared, Seungkwan still had his fingerprint registered into your phone from before (long story; don't ask), and had cracked the device open, as well as your most recently opened application—yours and Sumin's text messages.

You did nothing but stare at the table like you were getting war flashbacks, while Doyoung had even gotten up out of his seat to take a peek at your phone, too.

"I haven't even seen this video before," Seungkwan hissed as if you weren't right there.

You fixed them both with a stink eye, but at the same time, maybe this was for your benefit. They could help you without you actually asking for help—

Doyoung's face contorted into a laughable expression of shock (eyes wide, mouth wider, eyebrows pinched, nose wrinkled) as he viewed what Seungkwan had selected. "Oh my god. He's a child in this!"

"Actually he was a senior in high school—" You slapped a hand over your mouth. Whoops.

Both of their heads whipped over toward you. "I thought you deleted all your high school shit!" They chorused together. If it had been any other situation or context, you might have laughed at the hilarity if it all.

Instead, you averted your gaze, making a show of looking for the waiter or maybe even Kun or Ten. What was taking them so long anyway?

"Yn," Seungkwan addressed with a tone akin to that of a parent on the verge of lecturing their child, "what in the name of god are you sending Sumin and why?"

Helpless, you held both your palms up in a sheepish shrug. "The kid has a crush on him, and being the best mentor figure ever, I… did some compiling for her." You paused, "Now that I say it out loud, it does sound pretty stupid."

Doyoung returned to his seat. "Ya think?"

You wrinkled your nose at him. "Hey! Sometimes, some of us have bad nights and we wanna feel something." Out of context, this was a really suspicious conversation.

"Isn't this just you torturing yourself?"

Seungkwan slapped his hand against the table, and both you and Doyoung startled. "That's it! I'm calling for an intervention."

Your mouth parted open. "Right now?"

He deadpanned at you. "No, when Kun and Ten get here—of course, right now!"

You returned his deadpan expression. The adrenaline from all this back and forth was slowly fading, and what you were left with was something that felt like emptiness. So… now they knew.

Doyoung and Seungkwan exchanged looks with another from across the table, but it was the former who spoke first. "Why do you still have videos from back then, Yn-ie? I thought you told us you deleted them all?"

"I mean, we're not trying to be judgmental or anything," Seungkwan added firmly, but not unkindly, "they're your videos and photos, your past and memories, but… based on everything you've already told us before, wouldn't it be best to delete them?"

You didn't like the emptiness. The adrenaline had stripped you of energy and confidence when it faded. "I," you stammered, "I just… I couldn't bring myself to delete them." Your voice was quiet, almost inaudible compared to the liveliness of the hotpot shop around you and your friends. "I mean, how could I? Sometimes, I want to watch them and try to find the courage to say that I'm sorry first."

Yeah, you wanted to feel something. That "something" was actually a lot of things—courage, happiness, nostalgia, anger, melancholy, love, passion, pride. A life and childhood you had lost; who's fault was it but your own? You felt nothing short of pathetic.

Seungkwan frowned deeply, his eyes softening. He leaned forward and drew you into his embrace, his hold warm and comforting. "Oh, Yn. I'm sorry; I shouldn't have pried like that."

You wrapped your arms around him, eyes shuddering closed. "Yeah, you shouldn't have."

He grunted into your shoulder, a noise of defiance and attitude.

Doyoung had a similar expression of sympathy present on his face. You didn't often see something like that from him, but after years of friendship and working together, you'd begun to see a lot more of him. "I'm sorry too, Yn. It probably still hurts, and I know I was probably really insensitive when I asked you to introduce Sumin to the dance department—"

"Hey guys! Sorry we're late."

Everyone jolted at the sight of Kun and Ten arriving at your table. Kun sent Ten a sharp look along with a sharp jab with his elbow for interrupting. Kun shot you an apologetic look. "Sorry, we didn't interrupt anything, did we?"

You shook your head as Seungkwan pulled away. Doyoung and Seungkwan were both looking to you to make the decision of whether or not you would let Kun and Ten in on the prior conversation.

No, you didn't want to put a damper on dinner any longer. "Ah, no worries. We were just… discussing a couple work things. What took you guys so long?"

Luckily, no one (namely Ten) called you out and the two newcomers slid into their respective seats. Dinner would arrive soon, and you could fill your belly with something other than negative thoughts for once.

— ✶

boss bunny: hey, i didn't get a chance to say this earlier, but i'm so sorry for expecting u to introduce sumin to the dance dept

boss bunny: i didn't think at all abt how that might trigger u, and i still want u to know that u can back out whenever u feel uncomfortable. seriously.

your phone: it's okay, doyoung. i get it, i really do. and i promise that it didn't feel like u were forcing me or assuming that i would do it either

your phone: i knew it would probably trigger me like this too, but i kind of really wanted to be someone's mentor yk? it just… called to me ig

your phone: sounds kind of sad lol

boss bunny: nonono! not at all :( i understand that too

boss bunny: i admire ur strength, yn

your phone: DOIE 🥺

boss bunny: …okay love u and all, but let's not use that emoji yeah? T-T

your phone: okay wtv 🤧 now stop texting cuz ten is starting to realize ur not slick at this

boss bunny: AM TOO. >:(

— ✶

"He kept looking at his phone and then at you, like, every five seconds," Ten giggled, his shoulder absentmindedly brushing against yours as the two of you strolled side by side through the numbing cold night. Dinner had concluded just about half an hour ago, and while Kun ferried Doyoung and Seungkwan home, you and Ten decided to head down a few blocks to get milk tea and hang out.

You clapped your hands together in delight, your laughter lighting up the night. “That’s what I’m saying! He just wasn’t subtle about it and he kept arguing with me that he was.” You shook your head, tongue darting out to lick your lips, “It’s okay though. I think Dad Doyoung’s antics are charming.”

Ten grinned. “Dad Doyoung? I think he’s more of an uncle; ‘Dad’ is Kun’s title.”

“Fair enough.”

“Ayo, Ten!”

Both yours and Ten’s heads whipped upward at the sound of his name being called. You didn’t actually recognize the voice, but when you saw the lineup of four young men coming toward you from the opposite end of the street, you didn’t need to recognize it. Because, well, you recognized their faces.

Huh, you had been running into Changmin and his like a lot more often recently.

Heading straight for you was Changmin, Chanhee, Juyeon, and—you thought his name was Kevin. Kevin was the one who had called out to Ten, and he waved excitedly over to your friend. Based on Changmin’s not-so-subtle frown at Kevin, you could assume that this was not expected. Maybe he was going to advocate crossing the whole street to avoid you.

“Oh, hey Kev!” Ten greeted back cheerily, glancing at you beside him. “Do you know Kevin and Juyeon?”

You bobbed your head. “Briefly,” you replied. The two of your groups met in the middle, two blockades in the smack middle of the sidewalk. Impromptu meetups like this always seemed to end up clogging up the sidewalk for some reason.

After a swift greeting, Chanhee was already gesturing to the direction his group had already been headed in. “Hey, I’ll probably run up the street and get us a table. Haknyeonie says the tables fill up fast after eight o’clock.”

Juyeon perked up. “Oh, I’ll come with!”

Chanhee made eye contact with Changmin from across the group, and a silent form of communication passed between them. You watched this happen quietly, standing to the side with your hands tucked into your pockets while Ten and Kevin caught up from the last time they saw each other (apparently, it was a drawing and painting course from last quarter). However, instead of leaving with Chanhee and Juyeon, Changmin lingered with the three of you.

He naturally came to stand semi-close to you since he wasn’t exactly a part of the “drawing and painting” conversation. The frown from earlier had disappeared, though, and you didn’t know if you could call that a win or not.

Perhaps to you, the tension between the two of you was palpable. There were… far too many things up in the air at this moment, and it was nearly impossible for you to figure out just one thing to start with.

Plus, now was no time to get into all of that baggage. You needed to finish that intervention with Doyoung and Seungkwan before you could handle that kind of conversation—at least, that was what you would have preferred.

But for now, you found yourself clearing your throat and sparing him a glance. “Hey.”

Changmin’s eyes darted over to yours in ill-concealed surprise. “Hey.”

And that was that.

Luckily, Ten nor Kevin dragged on their conversation longer than it needed to be, and soon, you and Ten were passing by Kevin and Changmin as both parties went their separate ways. (You were going to pretend that you hadn’t looked back to watch Changmin walk away. Definitely not.)

“All good?” Ten asked, though, his voice was quieter than it had been before.

You could meet his eyes and nod. “Yeah.”

Ten followed up with an idle sort of humming noise, like he was one of those really loud computer fans (what in the world led you to think of that—?), “A few days ago, I kind of asked Changmin what the deal between the two of you was.”

“Oh?” Nervousness bubbled up the column of your throat. “What’d he say?”

He gave a shrug. “Something like a long-standing grudge.”

You let out a laugh that didn’t exactly sound like a laugh. “Well, I guess that’s one way to put it.” Was that how you would put it? In a way, that was what it was, but there was so much more to that, wasn’t there? Did Changmin think so little of what transpired between the two of you or was he just trying to deflect Ten’s interrogation?

The two of you had arrived at the tea shop by now, and Ten opened the door for you. The shop’s insides were warm and bright, and the tables were already filled up with fellow students who decided to hang out with friends on their Friday evening. You and Ten shifted over to the self-order kiosks to the side of the room and continued your conversation in low volumes.

“How would you put it then?” He asked. When you looked over at him, you realized that there was something scarily disarming about his eyes. “No pressure, of course. I mean, you can call me out on being nosy whenever; I figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask.”

You pursed your lips as you turned back to the screen to absentmindedly swipe down the page to find your preferred order. On the inside, you fought for the right words. “Changmin and I were best friends since we were kids,” you started, inputting your preferred level of sugar and ice like clockwork, “and we met through dance.”

Ten nodded to signal he was still listening, and the two of you swapped places so he could input his order.

You cracked your knuckles and rubbed your palms together to generate some kind of heat between them. “I didn’t really like dance at first. It was just one of those things my parents put me in to occupy my time after school and while they were working. But… well, you know how Changmin is with dance—it was and is his livelihood.”

“Even then?”

A nod. “Even then.”

When your orders were paid for, the two of you moved to a quiet corner of the shop to wait for your number to be called from the counter. You leaned your side against the wall next to Ten, your eyes staring blankly at a crack in the floor. “He was actually the reason I grew to love dancing,” you confessed. “As we got older and went into high school, sneaking out to practice together and performing together on stage became as easy as breathing air and as normal as…” You shook your head. “It was just a lot easier I think, back then.”

Ten tilted his chin toward you. “What happened between you two, Yn?”

You swallowed roughly. “In my first year of high school, my parents got divorced. I always suspected it would happen, but my mom kind of changed after that.” Your eyebrows crinkled as you recalled the memories of your early teenage years and tried to grapple with an adequate way to express them aloud. “And, to be fair, the more I danced, the more I didn’t want to focus on school work, but my mom became really hard on me about all that and I started to crack down on that stuff.

“Eventually, she got tired of taking me to dance practices and shows, and she blew up at me about how useless dance was going to be if I was going to become a doctor or something like that.”

Ten heard your number being called and nudged you to follow after him. He handed you your drink, and the two of you pushed back out into the chilly night. You didn’t really know where you were trying to go, but you didn’t really care. You both ended up in one of the small parking lots squeezed between two fast food restaurants, and you sat yourself down on the curb.

You continued, “And so, she would purposely forget to come home in time to take me to competitions and rehearsals. By the time I realized she wasn’t coming, I was already late every time. I would start walking myself there and taking the bus instead. Changmin started noticing that I was slacking, but I…”

“He didn’t know?”

“No.” You didn’t want him to know. Maybe it was your stupid pride that was preventing you from admitting that aloud. Maybe you were ashamed that your mom wasn't as accepting of dance as his parents were. You let out a shuddering breath and watched it come out in a visible puff in front of your face. “She made me grow spiteful toward dance,” you said stiffly. “I would be trying to stretch or practice movement in my bedroom while studying for exams, and she would come in and berate me.”

The yelling echoed in your mind, all too vividly. Your mother never physically hurt you, but there were still scars. “She’d discourage me from rehearsals or signing up for competitions by telling me I was nowhere near good enough, that dancing wasn’t going to put food on the table, and that I was—” A complete disappointment. You could pick those exact words out of a line up.

Ten’s eyes glistened with silver in the amber glow of the streetlight above you. “Jesus, Yn. I’m so sorry; that’s—that’s awful.”

You didn’t know how to accept the sympathy, even after having received so much from your other friends already. No matter how many times you retold your story, it was never quite right or in the way your brain wanted to portray it. You didn’t want to portray anyone as the villain; you figured that maybe you could have done something back then to prevent this. (You couldn’t have, actually, and that was the most difficult part to accept.)

“Yeah,” you murmured, setting your drink on the ground as you curled in on yourself slightly. “Anyway, by senior year, Changmin was obviously really into dance and was probably really stressed about auditions and end-of-the-year competitions. We basically… we basically took out our anger on each other. He said some things, I said some things. The rest is history.”

It was quiet for a moment as you let the words sink into the open air. Your chest loosened a bit after being able to tell another person about it, but for the most part, your hands still trembled. You reached for your drink again to take a sip and to force some kind of liquid down your throat.

After a while, Ten piped up, “Yn… I hope you know that you are not whoever your mother was trying to make you believe you were. You’ve probably realized that already—or maybe you’re still working on it—but please know that you’re probably one of the strongest people I know. It must have been really hard for you and I…” He exhaled, “Sorry, I’ve never been great at this.”

You sent him a small smile in return. “It’s okay; I still appreciate it.” After a beat, you added, “I know I act like I hate him, but I still want to see him succeed. I can’t think that ill of him, especially when he wasn’t the only one at fault.”

“Ah, that’s why ‘it’s complicated’, huh? I get that.”

“Yeah.” Your hands—god, if they could just stop shaking—

Ten reached over and covered your hands with one of his, and you let the heat of his palm warm yours. “You’re doing great, Yn. You know that, right?”

You couldn’t choke out an answer to that. You could only really say, “I just miss him sometimes.”

A sad smile. “I know. Maybe he does, too.”

You wanted to laugh, or maybe cry, at that. Anyone who got in the way of Changmin’s passions was no one to him. You would know exactly how that felt.

EPISODE SEVEN: [ROLLS RIGHT] OFF THE TONGUE

WHENEVER Changmin was feeling unsure of himself, he would retreat to his safe space: the practice rooms. Even if it was some time in the ungodly morning, like 2am as it was now, he would make the trek beneath molten gold streetlights and barren cobbled streets. It was the one place where he could focus his energy solely on dance, and forget about everything else.

Once upon a time, it had been your safe space just as much as it was his.

Changmin huffed a sigh as he hiked up the remaining flight of stone stairs that led up to the backdoor area of the performing arts building. It was a handful of hours since he and Chanhee parted ways with Kevin and Juyeon after enjoying dinner together. Chanhee was probably dead asleep by now—he was probably going to wake up and continue studying for his exams anyway.

As he turned to his right, his breath hitched as he caught sight of someone standing right outside the door. Usually, he had no trouble getting in and security wasn’t exactly strict in this area of campus. In fact, he almost never bumped into anyone, as strange as it sounded. Maybe he should have counted his blessings.

But then he recognized your jacket from earlier this evening, the very same one you were wearing while walking next to Ten—practically squished up against each other, two peas in a pod. He didn’t like how irked he was by that detail. He still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that you had said “hey” first.

You weren’t looking at him, rather, your body was completely turned toward the door as if you were trying to decide whether or not you should go in. You were as still as a statue, frozen in time.

The moment, however, faded as quickly as it had come. You must have sensed his presence, and your head whipped around to face him.

There.

His heart leapt into his throat—dear god, why did you look so afraid? And then he noticed that you weren’t frozen still, but rather, channeling all your energy into keeping your body from trembling. Were you cold? What were you doing here so late? Why weren’t you with Ten?

He watched your throat move as you gulped. And then you were walking toward him—no, past him—wait, come back— “So that’s it?”

The grip he had on his duffle bag strap tightened when you stopped next to him just as you were going to walk past him toward the stairs. Your gazes clashed like a pair of twin lightning bolts slicing through the night sky. There had always been a sort of energy between the two of you, and when you were young, he had been so very attracted to that kind of power, one so similar to his… he didn’t think he was mistaken back then.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You said, still there. Your voice was low, but he could detect the edge.

He didn’t know what it was supposed to mean; he just didn’t want you to leave without knowing why you were here. Were you looking for him? “You’re not gonna say anything to me? Why are you here?”

(He swore it wasn’t supposed to come out that brusque-sounding, but he also didn’t know what it was supposed to come out sounding like…? He felt like he didn’t know you anymore.)

There was a narrowing of your eyes, and you both angled your bodies to face one another like a standoff. “No one said I had anything to say to you. And I—” You tripped over your words, “—I don’t know why I’m here. That’s why I was leaving.”

Oh.

Why was he disappointed by that answer?

“So you’re not here with Ten or something?” He asked, unsure what else he could say to keep you here, even for just a couple seconds longer.

Your mouth curled. "Clearly not. Why are you so pressed about me and Ten?"

Changmin pressed his lips together. "I'm not." Okay. Very believable.

The face you made said the same thing. "Okay, yeah. I didn't expect you to care so much anyway."

For a reason he loathed to admit, anger spiked in his blood and he felt the distinct need to defend himself. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know," you replied sarcastically, your volume rising, "maybe it's that you've never really cared that much about things that concerned me in the first place?"

"Now that's rich coming from you."

Your glare pierced his. "Oh, please. As soon as I started slacking—god, it took so little for you to just abandon me."

His jaw fell slack. Where the fuck did this conversation just turn to? "Abandon you? You abandoned me!" He exclaimed, finger flicking between the two of you as if he could impale both of your chests with the sharp edge of his accusations.

"How could I have possibly been the one to abandon you?" Your face contorted with so much more emotion than Changmin had ever seen from you over the past three years. Suddenly, he could see the underlying desperation and devastation hidden beneath the lines of bitterness and anger. His heart sank, but his blood still boiled and pumped. He couldn't get the distinctly awful hole in his chest to stop aching. He could remember exactly when you just stopped coming to practice with him. He could remember exactly the day he gave up hope.

"You—" you stammered, your hand flying to your throat. It was the same action he had seen from you just a few days ago while you were in the practice room. He recognized it as a habit of yours for when you were anxious or overwhelmed because your throat closed in on itself. If that wasn't enough to make him want to lay down his sword… "—you stopped caring. When did you stop caring? I just want to know."

Everything went silent for him, just for a split second. You thought… you thought he stopped caring? How could he ever stop caring about you? Wasn't that why he was so upset in the first place?

And when the world zapped back into play, he was sure his skin was ashen. His throat bobbed. "How could you think so little of me?"

Your forehead creased. "Little? Changmin, you were everything to me."

Dear heart—

You were shaking your head and taking a step away from him then. "You couldn't possibly understand."

Just like that, there was fire in his veins again. "That's because you never gave me a chance to understand!"

You threw a look back at him and again, he could read everything there like an open book, so much unlike the wall he had been met with all this time. "And I can say the exact same thing about you. If you think I kept things from you, Ji Changmin—" you said with the undertone of a snarl, so fierce that, as you turned on your foot to face him again, your breath came out like that of a dragon's smoke, "—then how much have you kept from me?"

His nostrils flared and his hands gestured wildly, vaguely—he pressed his palms to his eyes with a haggard sigh. "Why are you here, Yn?" He asked again, finally. He lowered his hands and took a step toward you. "Are you here just to pick a fight with me?"

You paused.

He watched you open your mouth, then close it.

You pursed your lips, finally murmuring, "No. I didn't come here for you."

For some reason, that hurt even more.

— ✶

The practice room was colder than it usually was.

Changmin kept the lights dim for the sake of his stinging eyes, and he dumped his duffle bag in the corner of the room before making a beeline for the aux cord for the speaker system. He hooked up his phone and opened up his music files, his forehead pressing against the cool mirror wall.

For a moment, he simply let his eyes flutter shut and his lungs to breathe.

You were long gone by now, and Changmin considered just going back to his apartment, but he knew he would just lie in bed awake for hours if he did.

When he opened his eyes, he swiped out of his music and instead went to a file kept deep down in the depths of his storage. He had purposely named it so it would remain at the absolute bottom of the list when alphabetized, and the pass code on it was supposed to dissuade him from accessing it.

Supposed to.

He punched in the four digits of your birthday and the lock clicked open to reveal a hefty file of video after video. There were photos of you, too, somewhere, but the videos were all at the top of the file because of their size. He didn't know what he was gonna do when his phone ran out of storage; he figured that when that day came, it would either be when you and he finally figured shit out, or he got closure and could delete them all.

He sighed.

His thumb hovered over one of the video files near the top, one where he could see your face in the thumbnail.

When he opened it, his younger face filled the screen. His tongue poked out from his lips as he carefully settled his phone against the wall next to yours as both of your phones recorded the run-through that was about to happen.

"Changminnie! Come on, I'm starting the song!" Your voice echoed against the practice room walls, and his laughter soon followed as he scurried into place next to you.

Changmin watched his younger self transform his expression into something more serious, while you had looked at him through the mirror and burst out laughing.

Younger Changmin broke his facade, the dimples in his cheeks deep, his smile bright. "What?"

You grinned back at him. "Sorry, sorry! Nothing; it's just interesting how you can just shift your facial expression like that."

"You have to practice like you perform though!"

"I know, I know. I just like your smile better, y'know?"

Changmin could see the hearts in his younger self's eyes. Jesus, had he really blushed that hard? Younger Changmin cupped the back of his neck bashfully. "Really?"

You punched his arm playfully. "Yeah. It's really pretty, Changmin. I thought I told you this before."

"Well yeah, but it doesn't hurt to hear it again—yah! Hey, I can bite back, you know—!"

Changmin's eyes shuddered as the familiar melody of the song flowed into his ears. He abruptly slammed his thumb down onto the pause button.

No, he couldn't stomach hearing it. Not when he could recall every move from memory and not when he had no partner to complement those moves. It just reminded him of the gaping hole in his chest and the emptiness of this room.

"Let's get to work, Changmin," he muttered to himself as he swiped out of the folder and back to his music files. He had an actual to-do list in mind, after all, and it did not include a dive into the forbidden folder. (No matter how much he needed to hear your voice again, for once, not arguing with him.)

EPISODE EIGHT: OFF THE HOOK

"HE'S been pissy all morning—"

Changmin suppressed a groan of frustration as he heard his friend's voices nearing the dressing room he was in. All morning, the performing arts building had been a madhouse, even worse than the night of the draft showcase. Everyone just decided to be here today, whether they were his fellow dancers trying to score a practice room, one of the prospective actors auditioning for a part in Hyunjae's best friend's thesis play, or one of the tech members trying to make sure everything worked behind the scenes.

Changmin had gone from room to room in an attempt to find an empty one where he could have some peace in working on his own. He would have just gone home at this point, but Chanhee was stressing over his own exams, so Changmin was stuck here.

So taking all of that into account, including the rough encounter he'd had with you a couple days ago, plus a lack of sleep and coffee—not the happiest squirrel on campus.

(How could you just drop a bomb like "You were everything to me, Changmin" in his lap and expect him not to think of anything else for days on end?)

The door to the dressing room he was hiding in cracked open, and all of the cacophony from the outside flooded in, as well as a crush of his friends.

"Don't you guys have class?" Changmin moaned, his hand coming up to rub his sleep-deprived eyes.

"Well, yeah, but this is much more fun," came Younghoon's teasing chuckle as he walked over to Changmin and clasped a hand on his shoulder.

Changmin made a face. "I just wanted some peace and quiet."

Sunwoo scoffed. "Peace and quiet? You've come to the wrong place, hyung."

"Yeah," Hyunjae added on, "might as well take a break for once and come watch auditions with us! HJ!Yn needs help judging people anyway."

Changmin cocked a brow at the blond. "You should call Chanhee for that then. Shouldn't you be out there, Younghoon?" He nodded toward the tall, lanky drama major present.

Younghoon shook his head, bouncing on the balls of his feet. How did he have so much energy? "Nope. I'm auditioning for a part, so she's gatekeeping me from watching."

Changmin turned from his friends slightly as he reached down for his phone that he had situated on top of the small bluetooth speaker he had the good sense to bring. Then again, maybe he should have just stuck to earbuds… whatever. He was too tired to care. Part of him wanted to add to the chaos anyway.

"What's her thesis play about again?" He asked no one in particular. Sunwoo waddled over to him and stole his phone right from his hands and began browsing through the music selection.

"It's a modern take of one of Shakespeare's plays: Much Ado About Nothing," answered Younghoon. "It was really funny actually, like the original play. Lots of matchmaking, lots of stupidity. I think they dump someone in a lake..."

Hyunjae perked up. "Oh yeah! That was probably my favorite part of the whole script."

Changmin chuckled. "I was expecting you to say something like 'the whole thing's my favorite because my best friend wrote it'."

"Oh, no, that still applies."

Changmin, Sunwoo, and Younghoon all exchanged knowing looks with one another. Mhm… so they thought. There were a few too many in their friend group who had interesting relationships with their other friends. Exhibit A: whatever the fuck was happening with Hyunjae and his.

Hyunjae caught their silent communication and furrowed his eyebrows. "What?"

Sunwoo snorted, but Younghoon was the one to drawl, "It's absolutely nothing."

Changmin pressed his lips into a cheeky smile, brushing the bangs from out of his vision. Hyunjae's lips quirked to the side in a frown, but didn't make any comment on it. It wasn't a new reaction from the group, by any means, but… oh well. That would be a tale for another time.

With that being said, Changmin followed the three of them out of the relative privacy of the dressing room and out into the hustle-bustle of the main backstage corridor. As soon as that dressing room was vacated, however, somebody was swift to occupy it. Changmin cursed inwardly; guess he wouldn't be able to come back to that room later.

With the switching of theater leadership over the past year (a changing of the guard, if you would, but with professors and sponsors), the management of the entire performing arts department was a mess and a half. There were a few stand-out graduate students and undergraduates who were keeping everything in check for all of the events happening over this year—like Hyunjae’s best friend, Lee Jihoon (a graduate student specializing in sound and music production), and Moon Taeil (a graduate who was a soloist in the chamber choir).

As the four young men made their way closer to the immediate backstage, the sound miraculously dulled down. The lights were a lot dimmer here, as the spotlights were turned toward the main stage. Changmin spotted a few people scattered throughout the backstage area with phones or folded script packets in their hands as they recited their lines to themselves, with some even making exaggerated facial expressions and grand hand gestures.

Hyunjae’s best friend was one of the up and coming director-screenwriter “prodigies” that the drama department championed. She was a year older than Changmin was, and he didn’t need to be a genius to know that there were a crowd of people vying for a role in her graduating thesis play. It must have been stressful as fuck, but he knew that she had a good head on her shoulders—

“—I’m gonna stop you right there.”

HJ!Yn’s voice resounded from the other side of the hefty velvet curtains separating the backstage from the main stage. Hyunjae made a show of pressing his index finger to his lips to signal his friends to be quiet—Sunwoo thus made a show of rolling his eyes (“Duh, we’re gonna be quiet.”). They all huddled to the side of the curtain and poked their heads out to see what was going on.

The university performing arts hall was likely one of the most magnificent places on campus. It featured a vast array of floor seating, while also boasting three levels of balcony seats. Changmin remembered once briefly learning the anatomy of the theater seating: the floor or nosebleeds, the slightly lofted box seats, the grand circle, loge circle, and upper circle—the gods. It was all very antiquarian, but it was a place Changmin had become quite familiar with over the years.

The director herself sat in the dimmed nosebleeds section, in the smack middle. Someone had dragged out one of those plastic, foldable tables for her to set her paperwork and a small, battery-operated lamp on top of.

Curiously, sitting next to her was none other than Bae Sumin, your new recruit.

Changmin straightened, accidentally bumping into Younghoon’s shoulder as he did. “Sorry,” he whispered.

Younghoon shook his head to say that it was all good, his hand lifted in acknowledgement.

“Did you know Sumin was here?” He asked his friend.

Younghoon’s expression was thoughtful. “I think so? I left to go find you when I thought I heard someone say they saw her come in. Why? Did she not tell you when the dance department interviews were gonna be held?”

Changmin recalled receiving no notice. “No. I—I figured Yn would be here, too, then. Right?” Was he ready to face you again so soon? Would you even acknowledge him this time—?

Younghoon passed him an amused glance with a small smile fitted over his face. “That would make sense,” he murmured with his arms crossed over his chest. One of his hands reached up to idly massage his jaw. “I’d imagine she would be with her friends, somewhere around here. Though, it would also make sense that she would be sitting with Sumin, too. Then again—”

“You are… no help,” Changmin deadpanned.

His friend chuckled lowly, eyes upturned into slim crescents.

“Uh Jihoon-ah?”

Changmin and Younghoon’s attention flitted over towards the far side of the backstage and they watched as a girl chased after the resident sound producer graduate student. He was, perhaps, smaller than one might anticipate from the intimidating man, but he still harbored so much scary energy and talent within his body. Like all of the staff on the technical team, the pair were clad in all black.

Jihoon glanced up from his clipboard and at the girl. “Hm?”

The girl nodded toward the curtains. “Director is calling for a break and is asking if the house lights can be turned on.”

“Ah okay, come on then. Follow me.”

As the two of them strode across the length of the backstage, the girl’s eyes found Changmin and Younghoon, and… She was looking past him now at someone else. She lifted her hand in a small wave, paired with a smile, “Hi, Sunwoo.”

Changmin whipped his head around, only to realize that Hyunjae had disappeared, but Sunwoo was now standing on Changmin’s other side. He watched in utter delight as his younger friend flushed, even in the dim lighting, at the girl’s greeting. His eyes were wide as he squeaked out a quick, “Hey!” in return.

When Jihoon and his charge had gone out of view, Changmin turned on Sunwoo with a hyena cackle. “Oh my god! Who was that, Kim Sunwoo?”

Sunwoo seemed to shrink into the collar of his hoodie. “No one.”

Changmin’s laughter lit up the room just as the house lights thunk-thunk-thunk’d to life. Younghoon had slipped away, most likely to meet Hyunjae in the nosebleeds, which left only the two of them there alone. “Do you have a crush on her?”

“Yah! You’re such a menace,” Sunwoo groaned, whacking Changmin with the extra length of his sweater paw. “You can’t even talk, dude! You’re in love with a girl who can barely stand to be in the same room—” Sunwoo realized his slip up and slapped a palm over his mouth.

Ouch. The truth hurt, didn’t it? Changmin chuckled, though it was noticeably quieter now. “Well, you’re not wrong—” He shook his head, eyebrows creased together, “—wait, no. Wait, I’m not in love with her!”

Sunwoo rolled his eyes so hard he must have seen his brain up there. “Oh, please. The last time you were drunk and emotional, you showed us that secret little folder in your phone.” He jabbed his finger accusingly at the phone in Changmin’s hand.

Changmin scowled, pressing his phone to his chest as if to protect it in case Sunwoo decided to have wandering hands. “That was told to you in confidence!”

“No, it was told to me in a drunken stupor—” The two of them began to make their way back toward the edge of the curtain, ducking out from its shadow and onto the main stage. Hyunjae and Younghoon were indeed in the nosebleeds now, but Sumin was nowhere to be seen. Maybe she had only been here to observe the audition process. “And you guys say I’m the lightweight.”

“That’s because you are the lightweight.”

Just as the two of them hopped down from the stage and onto the ground floor of seats, Juyeon came in from the doors located at the back of the seats. He raised a hand in greeting to all present, cheerfully waving with that golden retriever-esque grin. “Hey guys! Oh, Changminnie, I was just looking for you.”

Changmin’s eyebrows flew up. “Oh? What’s up, Juyeon?”

Sunwoo retreated into the rows up where Hyunjae and Younghoon were, while Changmin met up with Juyeon in the rightmost aisle.

Juyeon threw a thumb behind him toward the direction he had just come from. “Sumin was asking if you would be willing to do your interview right now.”

His eyes widened slightly. “Right now?”

“That’s what I just said, wasn’t it?”

Changmin pressed his lips together, before nodding. “Uh, for sure. Yeah, lead the way.”

The two dancers hiked their way back up to the back of the area and through the door Juyeon had originally entered through. The main lobby was much less crowded—it was practically barren, which made it the perfect environment to conduct an interview in. Sumin was setting herself up at one of the couches, setting her laptop, phone, and coffee cup on the coffee table opposite to her.

She raised her head when she heard the door open and close, and a bright smile graced her features. “Oh, you found him! Thanks, Juyeonie.”

“Yeah, no problem,” he chirped. “I’ve got a couple things to handle first, but just ask someone to come find me once you and Changmin are done.”

With Juyeon swiftly taking his leave, Changmin was left to take a seat on the other end of the couch that Sumin was sitting at. “Hey, nice to see you again, Sumin,” he said, crossing one ankle over the other and resting his arm along the back of the couch.

The corners of her smile widened. “Nice to see you, too, Changmin! Sorry this was so sudden; I figured that I could get started on some of the interviews while I was here.”

“Oh, yeah, no worries,” he chuckled.

She reached for her phone, fidgeting as she swiped to a simple recording application. “I hope you don’t mind me recording this…?” At his consent, she nodded. “Okay, cool. I did wanna say something before we started.”

He sat up just a bit. “What is it?”

There was a sort of twinkle in her eyes, and if he wasn’t mistaken, her manner became a lot more bashful all of a sudden. “I have to confess that I asked my mentor, Yn, if she could send me some of your dance performance videos and I’m literally in awe of your talent. Like, I wanted to tell you how starstruck I am just being able to tell you this right now, but I just wanted to say this before we started.”

He broke into a boyish grin at this, his dimples becoming craters of joy in the apples of his cheeks. “Ah, thank you—that really means a lot,” he smiled.

Sumin added on, one of her palms pressing against the couch cushion as she leaned toward him slightly, “I mean, I don’t even know how Yn was able to find videos of you from high school, but I’m so glad she did, because—”

Wait what. Changmin was watching Sumin’s mouth move as she talked but he wasn’t truly hearing what she said. His humble, albeit a bit dumbfounded, smile remained, but her words from just before resonated in his head. There were definitely a few of his dance performance videos online from his high school days, but did you keep links to them? Did you keep the recordings on your phone?

The fact that Sumin asked you meant that she probably had no clue about your past, only that you were the person Sumin could rely on if she had any questions.

What did it mean? What did it mean?

His heart pounded in his chest at the thought that maybe he could possibly have an excuse to get you to talk to him, even if it was one, truly dumbass excuse.

“—ready?”

Changmin snapped out of his dazed state. “Sorry?”

Sumin blushed slightly, clearing her throat. At some point, she had pulled her laptop onto her lap and prepped her phone by placing it in between the two of them to record the following conversation. “Are you ready to start?”

He coughed, straightening and adjusting his position. “Oh, yeah—uh, sorry. Yeah, whenever you’re ready.”

Sumin gauged his reaction carefully, but instead of pressing the record button, she hit the power button. “If I may, you seem a little distracted. I don’t really want this to feel like a burden if you’ve got a lot on your plate.”

Shit. “No, I mean,” he shook his head, “I’m sorry. I guess my mind just wanders really easily when…” He huffed a sigh, dragging a hand down his face. “I’m a little tired, that’s all.”

“I totally get that,” she sympathized. “You’ve probably been practicing non-stop lately for the winter showcase. We don’t have to do this today if you’re not in the right headspace.”

He sighed and couldn’t help but feel just a little relieved. He needed to talk to Chanhee about this, math exam or dance practice be damned. But there was a part of him that definitely felt awful about having to cut off her interview even before it began. He gestured to her phone. “How about we reschedule? We could meet up sometime else during the week to redo this and I promise I’ll be all yours.”

He didn’t know what he did, but the pink on her cheeks deepened to a cherry red. “Oh, uh, sure!” She giggled, taking her phone and passing it over to him. “You can just put your phone number in there and I’ll text you to ask when you wanna meet up.”

Changmin nodded his agreement and swiftly inputted his contact information into the given slots. “Definitely,” he said before handing her phone back to her. The phone fumbled between the two of them, but Changmin was already standing up with the goal to go retrieve his bag (wherever it was), and to go consult Chanhee and the man’s infinitesimal opinions. “Really sorry again, Sumin.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it!” She dismissed his worries with a flick of her wrist. “Would you mind finding Juyeon, though?”

Changmin sent her a thumb’s up over his shoulder on his way to the door. “Yeah, for sure.”

She returned the gesture, watching as he disappeared out of the main lobby. It was only when he was definitely gone, she covered her mouth with her hand and stared at his saved contact in her phone. Then, with a silent scream of happiness, she ran to her text chain with you to tell you all about it.

a/n: PLS STILL REBLOG THIS PART EVEN THO ITS NOT THE FULL THING PLS PLS PLS IM BEGGING

read part two here (also linked at top)

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[glamrock-azbear]

My ✨Ruin✨ Experience (Story Spoilers, be forwarned)

Lobby

God damn Gregory, wasn’t enough to damage to animatronics you had to light the bitch ablaze too?

Ooo, HUD looking fine

Who needs a flashlight? I’ve got light up shoes!

Ah, yes, I remember breaking Chica’s ankles in this lobby…

Gregory kinda sounding sus

Okay, now super sus

Of course I’d have to go the long way around. If I were Gregory, I’d be at Roxy Raceway in half a minute (adjust crocs)

Cassie could’ve died counter: 1

Ladders are a really interesting addition… but the ability to look around concerns me

Vent… Tiny Music Man?

Cassie could’ve died counter: 2

Atrium Kitchen

This kitchen dirty af

Cassie could’ve died counter: 3

Chica there is no need—

Nevermind, she cool… for now

How’d this area get so messy? When the Pizzaplex crumbled there was nothing here

Welcome back to “Kids becoming technicians” Today’s guest: Cassie!

Two hands are better than one (Why didn’t you think of that Gregory?)

Backstage Area

Oh, hey, this looks familar… where’s Monty?

Oh sh—

Cassie could’ve died counter: 4

Found Monty BTW, me and the homies hate Monty now

Monty Golf

Lovely, 5 minutes in the Pizzaplex and not a single pizza, but I’m almost killed four times

I’m definitely down here with Monty, aren’t I?

Map Bot’s been rebranded, Map Bot will be missed 😔

I wish my virtual plushies were real

I refuse to believe an AR mask that should only let you see AR elements would allow someone to phase through objects

Must look super trippy to people observing from a different POV

“Look mom—” (Clips through wall)

Surprising the other animatronics are event still alive given it seems most charging stations have been decimated

Freddy’s probably still in Low Power Mode, unless Gregory jailbroke him

Gregory search history: How to jailbreak Freddy Fazbear

Of course the only surviving thing in all of Monty Golf would be the Monty Golf Arcade Game (I’m not telling you how long I played)

Can I take my chances with the electric door?

Something tells me a rabbit is behind all this…

So can Monty crawl through this area? I hope not, I’m not that fast

LSD jumpscare! Too bad I say “no” to drugs (takes off Vanni Mask)

Oh shit— Monty quiet af

What? I already deactivated the nodes so open up— Oh… I deactivated the Wet Floot Bot… oops

I don’t care that Monty crushed himself with a wood plank, I’m running and not looking back

The Daycare

So is Moon gonna be hunting me? Cause like none of the ending explicitly showed him being destoryed so—

Well there he is

Oh, he’s insane

And he’s Peter Pan

Can I get my free weapon now?

I’m surprised the Generators are still around

You know, if Gregory had a FazWrench, maybe he wouldn’t have to have gotten physical

So Eclipse is real? Check that off the list, now where’s Ballon Boy?

He really loves slamming them doors

One thing I’m grateful for is Moon not being a menace this time around

Theater

Ah shit— the night ticklers

Nu Uh— they give eye contact 💀

I thank the Basement for reminding me that the night ticklers are not to be trifled with

They killed Comedy Bot 😭

Vanny Cameo, she is literally getting more screentime than in SB here lol

Also damn, from another POV she was literally chasing Gregory in broad fluorescent light

Oh sh— he got m— wait it’s and Endo?

WTF happened?

Oh sh— oh it’s a giant Endo… welp, into the throat

Girl being dramatic for what

Bruh I can’t run—

Hm, so the Monty Carts still work… interesting

GASP— LORE!!!

Confirmed, Monty is the Band’s adopted child

Bonnie passed the torch fam— HE PASSED THE TORCH—

Oh yeah… the Pizzaplex is run down…

Monty Golf Catwalks

Cassie could’ve died counter: 5

And I’m back

Another Monty fight up here and Monty finna lose more than his bottom half this time

Navigating this area reminds me of something… (Insert ToTK Fire Temple)

Proof all comic endings were drawn by Gregory

Suddenly: Portal 2

The Pizzaplex is out to get Cassie— I’m convinced

Portals don’t transfer velocity do they?

Oh my—

Don’t rush me, Gregory, I’m doing the best I can (Misses another target)

“I’m sorry little one…” (Deactivates Wet Floor Bot)

Wait, if the Monty Cart I was riding in to get here derailed, then why isn’t this one?

Basement Kitchen

R. I. P. Pizzabot, he didn’t make it to Ruin

Chica’s Bakery

Chica in a silly, goofy mood 🤭

The cupcake does not approve of the vibe

Chica, honey, you’re being a bit too silly now

Ok, someone here is shitting battery acid all over the Pizzaplex and didn’t tell me, not cool dudes…

Cassie knows the drip must stay clean

Fire has done a number on Chica’s awareness

Chica’s Feeding Frenzy!

Server Room

Okay, so, where exactly am I?

Freddy Foreshadowing

So if I could take off the mask right now, what would I see.

How’s LSD Trap gonna be all big and do nothing

Roxy’s Salon

They really said “Feel free to play our arcade games! Just not princess quest…”

Oh shit— wait, so like after Roxy antagonized Gregory in the Afton Battle, she leaves and comes here?

Legit proof that when Roxy said “You have no friends” to Gregory, she meant it

This area is actually much better than its counterpart with all the staff bots

Yeah, “Gregory” saying not to get police or adults involved is sus

Absolutely valid reason to be mad but how would Roxy know Gregory took her eyes, what did she see him do it?

Apology accepted

She’s totally gonna save me later isn’t she

Sewers

Bruh, he’s a real gator now

You know, with how high I’ve seen that demon jump, I would’ve though jumping on a floating piece of debris would be nothing

Wait, so if he was in the water the whole time being a menace, then why did he die now?

Roxy Raceway

Ok but with this place in such a destroyed state, who’s to say I couldn’t just break the floor to the sinkhole?

Roxy!

Roxy no— I thought we were friends! 😭

Als what was that hitbox

Runaway go-kart—

Cassie could’ve died counter: 6

Bonnie Bowl

The Mystery Mix is gone 😫

So… we gonna work with Bonnie? That little show earlier feels like a sign 😏

Oop— Mini Music Man… looks like he’s gonna be here, but I mean I can step on one—

Oh… He joined a gang

And with amazing strategy I lure the gang away— and there’s still one here!

Ok fair, it’s more believable that it takes 3 to take down a child

Gasp— FredBonnie? In my Pizzaplex?!

They were sadistic for giving these robots feelings

Fazer Blast

Vanny’s hideout is wrecked

And they said “No Princess Quest!” again

What are the chances of me getting a FazerBlaster?

0 apparently…

There’s Daddy Deady

Wait— “Prototype?”

Mmm… so… yeah… that thing Freddy said about other Freddys… yeah… yikes

Ok but why tho—?

He got a present inside him

Yes, I tried to claim the present, didn’t work

Uh… wait, so he wasn’t real?

Oh lovely… the Mini Music Man’s back

Bruh, I was already out of the vent, how’d he kill me

Roxy Raceway Sinkhole

The Plushies show the future

That “Save me Cassie” sounding kinda skinwalker-y

Was there always a vent there?

Oh lord

Well to be fair, deactivating her seems to be the only real path, don’t think I can lift a forklift (I’m not forklift certified)

She probably can’t either (Roxy not looking too forklift certified either)

Ok, but, how did Roxy get pinned?

With all the destroyed locations, this area looks the least destroyed now

You know, with how weak the fence seemed, did we really need Monty’s claws?

How is the elevator back?

Holy shit, the legend— Candy Cadet!

Yep, that story checks out for potential skinwalker ending

Afton’s Lair

It be so wild to run into Afton’s corpse corpse here

Wonder if the Blob is still hanging around

Also now being in this side it’s actually strange that there’s working cameras and a flame button on the other side

So you’re telling me villainy is stronger the lower you go

Ooo— the boss fight—

Nevermind, he ded I guess

Haha! Now I’m forklift certified!

Gregory, I didn’t kill you with the Forklift did I?

Yep, definitely a skinwalker

Ooo— called it!

Also, hey, didn’t I deactivate you?

Cave

Yep, Fuck that

Ok but I’m still using the same walkie the fake was contacting me with so who’s to say there aren’t two fakes?

R. I. P. Roxy, hope you get to see Monty again

If I had my crocs in sports mode, I could total dust you

How do I know I can trust you (Goes opposite direction, find dead end) ok fair

Do I really have time for this?

So like where is Gregory contacting me from

Or even how?

Also another level to this place, what?

Oh, guess she just dead then

Oh fuck she’s fucking dead

So you’re telling me Chica and Eclipse are still alive

Y’all can’t do that— Roxy is too?

Wait, where’s Vanes/anny in all this mess?

#five nights at freddy's #fnaf #fnaf security breach #security breach #fnaf sb #five nights at freddy’s security breach #fnaf sb ruin #sb ruin #fnaf ruin #security breach ruin #glamrock animatronics #glamrock freddy #glamrock bonnie #glamrock helpy #gameplay experience #montgomery gator #roxanne wolf #glamrock chica #fnaf gregory #fnaf cassie #daycare attendent #eclipse fnaf

[battyshopkeeper]

Can I Call You Tonight?

Bruce calls you in the middle of the night, you can instantly sense something is off only for him to tell you about a realization he had when remembering his parent’s relationship.

Bruce x GN! Reader

Word Count: 1125

Contains / Warnings: No pronouns used for reader, Established friendship, Friends to Lovers, Love confessions, Bruce talks about his parents, Small and quick fic for the homies.

It was late at night when you heard your phone buzzing loudly, the bright screen almost blinding as you groaned in bed. Hand aimlessly trying to grab it from the nightstand with your face buried into your pillow. When you finally did you stared at the screen with squinting eyes for a second until finally being able to make out the words 'unknown number' boldly there.

Shit...If he's calling you this late something must have gone down-

You take a deep breath before accepting the call, bringing it up to your ear only being met with unnerving silence.

"Uh- Hello?" Your horsed voice called out, your brain to sleepy yet nervously running to conclusions at the same time to even cringe at the way you sounded.

"Hey." You pause as that voice made it to your ears, your body doing a 180 as you jolted out of bed, not noticing him call out your name when you don't respond. You hear him repeat your name this time, so softly that you could miss it. Your mind rushing to come up with anything after hearing him use that voice on you. "Uh yeah I'm here- just was startled." Bruce stared down at his screen, the sounds of bats chirping in the distance. Already in his several layers of baggy clothes, yet the cold air still sent a shiver up his spine when he heard your voice.

"Yeah..." You raise a brow at his lack of conversation, Bruce had never been the most talkative of people but there was a difference in his tone that made everything almost have a daunting feel. Getting more anxious by the second you start to pace around your bedroom, focusing on the freezing cold floor as an attempt to distract yourself from just how slightly off everything felt.

"So you good? Why did you call me so late?" You finally get the courage to ask.

"I tried what you recommend and it worked."

"Calling to thank me for some programming advice? Doesn't sound like you." Your eyes looking around at every shadow that reminded you of the certain bat while waiting out another pause. "Bruce, you can tell me what's wrong." Quietly whispering into the phone, you finally hear him sigh.

"I just wanna hear your voice right now."

You almost dropped your phone at that, the thought of Bruce simply calling you for something as personal as that instead of having an underling goal or mission was a miracle. A miracle that scared you at this unfamiliar territory you were now on.

"Oh- Um...Okay. Wanna talk about your day then? You in your night shift still?"

"No, just finished up a while ago, I'm at the hideout right now."

"Hm, And how was it?" You try to continue knowing that any conversation with Bruce would mainly be one-sided but you didn't mind, it was only the moments of silence like now that made you uneasy. The thought of him ending the call abruptly always on the back of your mind.

"...Bruce?" You shyly called out.

"I saw something tonight, something that made me realize a lot- I don't know how to even say it to the point where I think it would be better to let it down." He sounded like he was thinking out loud, his voice more like a mutter that you could barely hear.

"Come on, you can't just say that and expect me not to wonder." You try to sound lighthearted only to be met with Bruce's somber words.

"I got reminded of my parents..."

"Oh-" you instantly regretted asking now, knowing this was painful territory.

"I've held memories of them just being my parents but I got reminded how much they really loved each other."

"Yeah, I think a lot of us have those moments. I think the older we get the more we appreciate or get humbled when seeing our parents as people." You say not trying to stir him away from the topic, yet still nervous to say anything with to much weight.

"You know... my dad always admired my mom so openly, especially around me. There wasn't a story he hadn't told me over a dozen times about their first dates. I hated it back then, thinking it was gross like every other kid would have." You just listen, letting him go on as you could sense him smiling at the other end of the call. A small moment of vulnerability you didn't wanna ruin. "And now I look back at those moments and can't help but think about what they had, something that I now know runs so deep."

"We all have hopes of meeting someone we can admire that much." You respond while settling down onto your bed again. Bruce let out a shaky breath before speaking up. "There's something else too. I needed to hear you, just to see... to confirm it." You notice his tone become even shyer, his voice almost giving out at the end.

"You can say it, don't worry."

"The way my dad spoke about her- the way he looked at my mom. I never knew what it meant back then but I think I do now. I finally know what makes a man act like that."

You stay quiet, the feelings of butterflies in your stomaching was enough to make your head dizzy, only being able to hang onto each and every word. "I think about you often. You cross my mind everyday. I dream of the stories we could tell, the things we could do."

You almost had to check this wasn't a dream, a cruel dream that you would wake up from soon. But no, it was as real as it could be. Yet you couldn't help but doubt this moment. "Bruce are you sure about this- to be telling me this?"

"I know I'm not the best at expressing myself and that there's still a small part of me that fears this... but I want to at least say it before I lose anything, if I somehow lose you."

You let out a small laugh in disbelief, rubbing your temple as you sat up. "You'll never lose me, I can't really leave your side." You smile, Bruce feeling the tips of his own lips tugging up for a brief moment.

"You swear? To stay by my side?"

You hum, looking out your window to see those twinkling city lights, the closest to stars in a city like this. "I rather say it to your face, give you a proper confession." You say playfully, only to be met with the sound of clothes shuffling. You nervously called out his name when you continue hearing the sound instead of his voice.

"Give me fifteen minutes." Was all he said, hanging up the call as you look at your phone in confusion. Only to instantly become flustered as you realized Bruce was going to give you exactly what you wanted.

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x male reader #bruce wayne x you #batman x reader #batman x male reader #male reader #gender neutral reader #the batman

[immortal-pnkcake]

i said it's his turn to have his own bar

a little bit of silly thoughts about he-lives-and-has-his-own-establishment under cut if you're interested!

hey if other people can have their bars he could've too (if not. you know. literal impossibility to bring his character back.) so once me and my gf was talking about him so i'm roughly retelling and translating what we had in mind

so yeah he could have his own little place tucked in somewhere safe and i was thinking maybe okinawa? cause. idk. vibe wise he would fit there. anyway his place is not so popular with regular folks cause this guy IS a weirdo so yeah most of the people don't understand the appeal.

local yakuza tho! they enjoy the place. he has this policy of "until you're not making too much noise and not taking it outside you're free to do whatever you want but you HAVE to pay if you break something and everything that happened here stays here and vice versa." he was hoping there will be fights but nah. there's just a lot of youngsters exploring themselves and taking "everything stays here" as an excuse to kiss their homies and that kinda stuff - cause i don't think being openly gay helps your status as a yakuza - so they have this little retreat with a weird uncle who won't snitch on them passionately kissing each other and whatever.

he is very much reminiscent of his past cause OF COURSE he misses it. he made it after he was shot in 80s but it has done damage to his body and he COULD TECHNICALLY GO BACK but man! if i can't kick asses and be a menace why should i go back and be a poor excuse of a yakuza! he went on his own terms so he is not obligated to live in secret. he just decided that if he can't live up to his own name then the man who could must take it.

oh yeah he uh. pretty much invented this whole nishitani title thing. he was just "yeah yeah don't care give this damn name to the motherfucker who is worthy to call himself that!" so pretty much he has some name on paper but to folks around he's just and uncle with no name they just call him The Uncle

he is a funny character to have around but sometimes he becomes a wet sentimental rag and rumbles about how he had it ALL and gave it all for a man who DOESN'T EVEN KNOW HE'S NOT DEAD ohh i think he would love to see mad dog majima. delight to his eyes it's a fuckin bummer he can't give him a proper fight

haha anyway- yeah. must i say i miss this bitch dearly. the weird uncle of all gay people of okinawa

#immortal draws #immortal writes #yakuza #yakuza 0 #y0 #rgg0 #homare nishitani #nishitani homare #rgg #rgg fanart #rgg series #ryu ga gotoku #yakuza fanart

[agaypanic]

Childhood friends to lovers with Francis Wilkerson x male reader 🙏🙏🙏

Francis thinking he’s straight until he and reader get older and he starts to question himself. They start to lose touch when Francis gets sent to military school, but when he comes back he sees reader and is like “…ok maybe I’m a little gay-“ maybe ends in fluffy kisses 🥹

Kissing The Homie (Francis Wilkerson X Male!Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: Francis always thought he was straight. When he comes home from military school and sees his childhood friend for the first time in almost two years, he starts to learn some things about himself.

A/N: kind of unserious title bc i didn’t know what to title this lol also i feel like this sucks but i wanted to work on something

***

“What the hell do you mean you’re going to Alabama?” You asked your best friend, about to laugh. This must have been some insane joke. “Francis, you can’t be serious.”

“I wish I wasn’t, man.” He sighed, running a hand through his long hair and taking a drag of his cigarette. “My mom’s crazy.”

“Can you blame her? She’s got you as a son.” You snorted at your own jab, and Francis shoved your shoulder.

“It’s not funny, Y/n! I’m going to military school; I might as well die.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Francis.” You snatched his cigarette to take a smoke. “You’ll get kicked out and be back here before you know it.”

“Yeah, I guess.” He murmured. The two of you were quiet for a minute, passing the cigarette back and forth. In a week, Francis was getting shipped off to a military school across the country, and although you joked about it, you didn’t know when you’d see him again, if at all. Sure, you’d been friends since you were five, but being states away with probably little contact could change that.

“I’ll miss you, man.” You said solemnly before smashing the lit cigarette against the bottom of your shoe. Francis laughed, shaking his head.

“Don’t be gay, dude.” Now it was your turn to push him.

“Shut up.”

***

Contact with Francis became less and less the more that time went on. It wasn’t really anyone’s fault; you two just became too busy with other things. You pulled away from Richie and Francis’ other friends, realizing that you only ever hung out with them because Francis hung out with them. Not wanting to end up in the same boat your friend was in, you started focusing more on school. You and Francis tried to keep up with each other, but sending letters felt too time-consuming, and Francis used most of his phone calls on his family or girlfriend of the week.

You’d sulk about it, but that’s just how life worked.

Because you and Francis were childhood friends, your parents were somewhat close with each other. So you weren’t surprised when you came home from school one day, and your mom told you she got Lois to get you a job at Lucky Aide. The only bright side was getting money, although it wasn’t much.

After what felt like forever, spring break had finally come. It didn’t feel like much of a difference to you since you still had to work, but it’s the thought that counts. You got to work fewer hours because Lucky Aide had some kind of program going on where a bunch of people could work and do inventory for the week. Craig was in charge of it, so you didn’t care much about it.

“Hey, I got another box for you.” A voice sounded behind you while you were stocking a shelf. It sounded a bit familiar, but then again, this was a small town.

“Thanks, man. Just put it next to the open one.” You turned around and were startled by the baby blue eyes looking at you. “Holy shit. Francis?”

“Y/n, hey!” Francis dropped the box and roped you into a hug, patting you on the back. You hugged him back, a bit shocked. “I didn’t know you worked at Lucky Aide.”

“Have been for a few months. I didn’t know you were back in town.”

“Just for spring break.”

“Nice, nice.” You nodded, looking him up and down. Military school seemed to do him some good. Not behavior-wise, he was probably still a menace. But you mentally thanked whoever made him cut his hair. Sure, the long hair looked cool. But it looked so good the way it was now, short but messy. And after almost two years, he seemed so much more mature. Again, not behaviorally. He looked, dare you say, kind of hot.

Wait, you shouldn’t be looking at your friend this way. You didn’t like guys.

Maybe.

Little did you know, Francis was looking at you the same way. He didn’t think anyone would look as good as you did in a Lucky Aide smock. You filled it out perfectly. And you had certainly grown a lot since he last saw you, almost reaching his height now with broader shoulders. But you still had the smart-ass smirk on your face that he loved to see.

But Francis wasn’t gay. Nuh-uh. He just knew how to appreciate another dude’s looks. Yeah, that’s it.

“Well, listen, man. I dunno when your shift is over, but I get off at five, so maybe tonight we could catch up or something.” You suggested, continuing your task of restocking the shelves behind you. Even though he probably had something to do, Francis helped you by handing you items from the box.

“Yeah, that sounds great. My mom’s being a real pain in the ass-”

“What else is new?”

“-so I’m a little desperate to get away from home.”

“Well, I have a car now, so just let me know when you’re free.” He was about to answer you when Craig appeared at the end of the aisle.

“Francis! What are you doing here? The bouncy balls are not gonna recount themselves.” You laughed while Francis rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed his peace was interrupted. 

“You better go.” You said, taking the final item from his hands. He sighed, briefly balling his hands into fists before letting them rest at his sides.

“Yeah, I guess. I’ll see you later.”

“See you later, man.” You patted his shoulder before pushing him away, watching him mope and drag his feet toward where Craig was waiting for him.

***

Instead of waiting until his shift ended, Francis snuck out behind you after you clocked out. He raised the collar of his jacket to cover his face as he ran out to your car, making you cackle as you fished around in your pocket for your keys. He practically dove into the passenger’s seat when the car was unlocked.

“Where do you wanna go?” You asked as you settled in the driver’s seat, turning the car on.

“As long as I’m out of the house and not at work, I literally don’t care.”

Half an hour later, you were tearing into a giant bag of fast food in a park’s parking lot. A random radio station played as you messily ate the cheap food. You reached down to the floor of your backseat and pulled out a bottle of cheap alcohol. Francis definitely wasn’t opposed when you offered to splash some in his soda cup.

“So, what’s military school like?” You asked, chewing through the last of the curly fries. Francis swallowed the bite of his burger and grinned over at you.

“Dude, it’s so much better than I thought it’d be. I mean, most of it sucks, but the amount of shit I’ve gotten into is crazy.”

“Such as?” Francis’ eyes lit up. Clearly, a story had popped into his head, but then he sunk into his seat as if it were embarrassing. “Oh man, this one’s gotta be good.”

“Okay, so it was sometime last year. A buddy of mine and I did community service for a local beauty pageant. It was perfect, half-naked women everywhere who would want some kind of attention. Of course, I showed interest in the pageant to get with one of them. But…” He trailed off, and you leaned toward him in your seat, silently egging him on. He looked away from you. “But instead, she and the rest of the girls thought I was gay.”

You couldn’t help but snort.

“Were they right?” You received an eye roll and a punch in the shoulder.

“Shut up, man.”

“Oh, come on! You can’t tell me all that and expect me to not ask questions.” You looked away and took a bite of your burger, confused by the slight disappointment you felt. It’s not like you really cared about the answer. “It’s no big deal if you are, bud.”

“And who said I am?” Francis’ voice was higher than it just was, like he was slightly panicked by the accusation.

“Those pageant girls, apparently.” You answered with a teasing grin. “Ever kissed a guy?”

“Gee, Y/n, no. Guess I never had the opportunity.” Francis sighed, taking a large sip of his spiked soda. You raised your eyebrows in surprise. Sure, it seemed believable while he lived in a military academy in Alabama. But, especially looking the way Francis does now, you’re hesitant to believe he never even had the offer.

Huh, maybe you did like guys. Or at least a guy.

“Do you want an opportunity?” The words left your mouth before you even thought about them, surprising you further. By the look on his face, Francis was just as surprised.

“What?” He managed to choke out. You shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant about the fact that you had just offered to kiss your childhood-turned-somewhat estranged best friend.

“Just saying, Francis. Better to kiss a friend than a stranger. Besides, who knows? You might like it.” You kept out the part that you were now secretly rooting for him to accept. You smirked at a now thoughtful Francis, trying to seem uncaring yet slightly intrigued by the whole matter.

A quiet Francis wasn’t a good one, which had you worried. You had half a mind to laugh, claiming that you were joking or that the cheap alcohol had taken your filter. But you were too deep now; you wanted to know what he’d say.

Francis licked his lips before turning to look at you, taking a deep exhale.

“Fuck it.” The craziest part was that he seemed completely serious.

Wordlessly, you both prepared yourselves. There seemed to be this unspoken agreement that whatever happened in your car would stay in your car until the both of you died. You took a final long sip of liquid courage before Francis took your face in his hands. You didn’t expect him to take charge of the situation, but you’re glad he did because the situation probably wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t.

The kiss was quick but enough to absolutely boggle your mind. Francis slipped one of his hands to the back of your head to draw you in. His fingers became tangled with your hair, keeping you in place after he pulled away. The two of you were quiet with eyes closed, not knowing how to proceed.

“Am I a good kisser, Wilkerson?” You asked, trying to lighten the mood. Francis took the shy grin off your lips with another quick kiss, and when he pulled away, you opened your eyes this time. His baby blue eyes stared at you, filled with surprise and profoundness and what you wanted to say was lust.

“Okay…” Francis licked his lips again, taking a deep breath. God, it was so hot. “I think I might be a little gay.”

“Agreed.” You replied, staring back at him. He immediately went back in for a kiss that was longer and deeper than the previous ones. And you didn’t complain in the slightest.

#francis wilkerson x reader #francis wilkerson #francis wilkerson x male reader #malcolm in the middle #malcolm in the middle x reader #agaypanic

[autumnshighlady]

I’ve Always Liked to Play With Fire (part 4)

NESTA ARCHERON X FEMALE!READER (future Neris x reader)

summary: The plan finally takes off, and you train with Azriel.

warnings: sexual jokes, feysand slander, that’s it I think

word count: 6.5k

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

a/n: finally things are kicking off! This is my longest chapter yet, and where shit starts to get real! A bit of Azriel x reader tidbits because y’all are sluts for the shadowsinger - it’s not endgame and they’re just homies but I had to throw in some flirting ;) Please let me know what you think of ths chapter!

feedback is appreciated, just no hate pls! these are just my opinons, im more curious to see how you all like the writing and characterization and storylines!

part 1

part 2

part 3

read on ao3

Spotify playlist

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

You and Nesta were careful to avoid each other the next day. Whenever Cassian or Azriel were nearby, you were sure to cast cold looks at each other, the frost between you two so realistic and palpable you were almost proud.

When Cassian was in the kitchen eating breakfast with Nesta, you made sure to take your plate to your room. If you sat in the corner of the library reading, Nesta would take her book elsewhere. You missed that ease between you two that you had built up over the past few months, but knew you had to let it go to plan for the long term.

Nesta had begun training with Cassian, which you knew was hard for her. She was weak, in body and mind from both lack of nutrition and trauma from the past year. It can’t have been easy for her, or her pride, to agree to it. However, you knew deep down that she must not be making it easy for Cassian, the thought of the two of them snapping at each other the whole time made you chuckle.

As you suspected, it took a week for the shadowsinger to approach you. No doubt he had told Feyre and Rhysand of your spat with the High Lady’s sister and they saw the perfect opportunity to use you to their advantage while you were vulnerable. It was mid morning when you heard a polite but firm knock on your door.

“Come in.” You said, brushing the charcoal off your hands. You had found an art supply room in one of the cupboards, filled with your favourite materials – thick, black paper and white charcoal with smudge sticks. You loved art, specifically drawing in this medium, so you had set up an easel with the paper in your room.

The door creaked open, and Azriel stepped in. The first thing you noticed was that his shadows kept to themselves, still revealing themselves enough to remind you that they were there but not so as to intimidate you. His dark hair had a few loose strands that hung into his sharp, tanned face. Those hazel eyes almost glowed, as if they could see into your very soul. He was clad in his usual Illyrian leathers, and you momentarily wondered if that was all he owned. He had a strong presence, but was not as scary as you thought he’d be.

For that, you were somewhat relieved. The last thing you needed was the Night Court’s spymaster trying to intimidate you into doing what they wanted.

“Good morning.” Azriel said politely, leaving the door open to your relief. “I see you have found the art supply closet.”

You nodded, not giving him an answer. You tried to calm your racing heart – the thought of having to try and fool the Night Court’s spymaster made you want to die, but you had to give it a shot. Which meant not being suddenly agreeable.

“The High Lady enjoys painting,” He said when you did not answer. “Perhaps you would like to attend one of her classes.”

“Is she even good?” You snorted, smudging the corner of your charcoal onto the black paper.

Azriel was quiet for a split second, before answering, “Yes.”

You laughed sharply at his hesitation. “I thought you were supposed to be good at lying, spymaster. Besides, I don’t think prisoners are allowed to join art classes.”

“I could take you–” Azriel began to offer.

“You didn’t come here to talk about art with me.” You interrupted him. “What do you and your High Lord and Lady want with me?”

Azriel’s expression remained stoic, irking you. “I heard your fight with Nesta.” He said simply.

You forced yourself to flinch, pretending like the news was a shock to you. Those hazel eyes bore into yours, searching for something. So you avoided his gaze, feigning discomfort.

“It’s none of your business.” You mumbled, busying yourself with rearranging the white sticks of charcoal at the bottom of the easel.

“She seemed eager to stand up for you the other night,” Azriel’s gaze didn’t change one bit. “What changed?”

You took a shaky breath. Fooling him may be harder than you thought. “You were the one listening apparently, so why don’t you tell me?”

Azriel took a step closer to you, and for a second his eyes softened. “Are you okay?” He asked, his deep voice quieter than before.

You gulped. “I’m fine,” You answered. “I’ve moved on. Not like I knew her well.”

“You spent a lot of time together,” Azriel countered. “And she practically started a fight with Rhysand at dinner over you. She clearly cared for you more than I’ve seen her with anyone besides Elain, but then again I do not know her well either.”

“Key word being ‘cared’, shadowsinger.” You told him, meeting his gaze. “Nesta made herself clear the other day.”

Azriel said nothing, just stared at you. It took everything in you not to squirm beneath his gaze – it frustrated you being unable to read his expression, or figure out what he was up to. Realizing he wouldn’t be the one to break the new silence first, you spoke up again.

“You didn’t come here to discuss art, and I also doubt you came here to discuss my fight with Nesta,” You challenged him, straightening your back. “So I’ll ask you again, what do you and your highnesses want with me? I assume they sent you here after you told them about the fight.”

“They did. Feyre knows how mean Nesta can be, and wanted to be sure you were alright.”

“Bullshit.”

“Do not speak about my High Lady with such disregard, (Y/N).”

“Try and stop me. I’ll speak about her however I want, unless you’re going to use that pretty blade and take my tongue for it.”

You and Azriel glared at each other, neither backing down for a few minutes. Normally you’d have glared until he took the hint and left, but you had to swallow your pride and submit to that piercing hazel gaze.

“There’s something else though, isn’t there?” You said, averting your eyes and brushing dust off your skirt. “Or else they wouldn’t have sent you.”

For a second, you thought the shadowsinger would simply ignore your words, and just keep glaring at you. But he folded his flared wings and clasped his scarred hands behind his back.

“The High Lord and Lady have a proposal for you.” Azriel stated formally.

So it’s working. You observed with relief.

“And you are here to take me to them?” You asked suspiciously, raising an eyebrow.

To your surprise, Azriel let out a short breath almost like a laugh. “No,” He said. “They figured that after the manner in which your last few meetings had gone, their presence would make you…antagonized.”

You rolled your eyes. “Less agreeable, you mean.”

“To put it honestly, yes. Would you have preferred to speak to them directly?”

“No.”

“Which is exactly why I am here. Shall we go fetch lunch? Nesta and Cassian are at training so they will not be joining us.”

You sighed, knowing refusing wasn’t an option. You had expected he would just barge in here and demand you comply, yet he wasn’t. You had heard stories of the legendary shadowsinger, tales of how dangerous and terrifying he was, and yet all you saw was a stoic Illyrian general.

Which is exactly what made him so dangerous.

Deciding it would be in your best interest to play along, you peeled off your smock and set it on the stool. “Lead the way.”

Azriel led you to the kitchen, remaining a few feet ahead of you. His shadows swirled around his shoulders as he moved, curling around his massive wings as if they were watching you. You did not doubt that they were.

When you arrived, he pulled out your chair for you before grabbing your plates from the counter and setting them down. He sat opposite of you, waiting for you to start eating.

He’s not getting what he wants that easily. You thought indignantly, deciding to make his job just that extra bit harder.

“I’m not eating until you tell me what they want.” You said, lifting your chin up.

Azriel sighed, exasperated and likely pissed off that he was the one stuck dealing with you. “Just eat.”

“I will. When you tell me what they want from me. Why the feared spymaster of the Night Court has nothing better to do than sit here trying to get me to eat my veggies.”

The steel balls you had to talk to him like that was almost laughable – if you had been told a year ago that you’d be snapping at the Night Court’s spymaster without a knife to your throat you’d have fainted.

Clearly, he thought so too, for his once stoic expression was now tight with annoyance. “Are you always this difficult?” He asked.

“Yes.” You replied.

A vein in Azriel’s neck twitched, as if he were contemplating just saying fuck this and leaving right then and there, or if he should give in in order to do what Rhysand and Feyre asked.

Evidently, it was the latter.

“As you know, Tamlin allowed Hybern into his borders and it destroyed his court–”

“Thanks to your High Lady.” You interrupted, unable to help yourself. It earned you a sharp glare.

“Which matters not.” He continued, annoyed. “The war is over now, but Tamlin is still a threat.”

“How?” You gawked. “The male has literally nothing left, no armies or spies, not even his own people. How does that pose any threat to the Night Court?”

“The fact he has nothing left is what makes him so dangerous. He has nothing left to lose if he wants to take revenge–”

“Again, thanks to your High Lady.”

“Could you let me fucking finish?” Azriel snapped. You almost giggled at the shadowsinger’s thinly stretched patience with you, but even you knew better than to push further so you sat back and hugged.

“As I was saying,” He continued. “Tamlin is dangerous. He hates Feyre and Rhysand, and spends his time roaming his court in beast form. He has an extreme amount of power, and if he decides to turn it towards us we need to know.”

“So send in your spies to keep an eye on him.” You snapped.

“It’s too dangerous, none of them would get past Tamlin.” Azriel said. “But you would.”

So I was right, You thought smugly. It wasn’t hard to figure out that the Night Court would want you to spy on your own High Lord for them as payment of your debt to them.

“And why would I spy on my own High Lord?” You asked. “Also, you’re forgetting one very important detail, shadowsinger. I’m not a spy.”

Azriel set his fork down, folding his arms and tilted his head. “You don’t have to be a spy. You just have to be yourself.”

You sighed, folding your arms in return. You knew where this was headed. “I just have to report to you, is that it?”

Azriel nodded. “Yes. Tamlin knows you, he will not question you, I doubt he even has noticed you were gone. You will convince him to let you stay at the manor, and report to me anything suspicious. And since you don’t know how to shut that mouth of yours and use it properly, I will train you.”

You nearly burst out into laughter at the innuendo. You couldn’t deny that Azriel was handsome, so the thought of letting him teach you how to use your mouth wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. That is, if you weren’t a prisoner in his court. And if you didn’t hate his superiors.

“So let me get this straight,” You said, shaking away your weird thoughts. “You want me to meander back into the Spring Court, ask my High Lord if I can live in his house, and then spy on him and report his movements to you? But I have to train with you first so that he doesn’t find out, since I’ll be risking my life doing this? Am I correct?”

“Yes.”

“What do I get out of it?”

“You get out of the House of Wind, for starters.”

“Not good enough. I want a salary.”

Azriel choked on his coffee, staring at you in surprise. You rolled your eyes at his shock, amazed that he thought you’d do this for free.

“What?” You asked. “I’m absolutely not doing free labour for you. The only people who don’t pay their prisoners are Hybern, you know.”

“You’re not a prisoner.”

“That’s literally so much worse.”

“We have fed and housed you at our expense for the past three months.” Azriel snapped.

“And I’m sure their pockets are hurting terribly for it,” You hissed back sarcastically. “Didn’t Mor mention they were building a fifth estate during dinner? Surely they can afford to pay me for my work. Also, it is common courtesy to help an injured member of another court if they end up in your territory. Surely after 500 years of politics you’d all know this?”

Azriel grunted, and you tried not to grin at your victory. You could tell he saw some truth to your words.

“I’ll speak to Rhysand about it.” He grumbled. “Any other conditions?”

“If I think of any I’ll let you know.” You said cheerily, finally picking up your fork and digging into the meal in front of you. You could tell Azriel wanted to snap back, but refrained himself when he saw you were holding up your end of the bargain.

“You have eighteen hours to decide,” Azriel said, standing up. “Because we start tomorrow.”

*********************

Our plan is working. Azriel is going to train me as some sort of spy. Your sister and her mate want me sent back to Spring Court to spy on Tamlin for them. I demanded pay, of course, which pissed them off. How’s Cassian coming along?

You left the note in the designated book, returning a few hours later to find one for you in the other book.

Good. Training is brutal, everything hurts. At least Cassian is being nice about it. Apparently he and Rhys met in the Spring Court with Eris the other day, not sure why. Maybe you’ll be able to find out.

Your brow furrowed as you read this new information. Part of you was suspicious – if Eris was popping up in the Spring Court, right where you were supposed to be sent, it was extremely convenient. Maybe too convenient. But could work very well in your favour.

Frankly, Nesta would probably have better luck getting the details out of why Rhys and Eris are meeting in secret from Cassian than you would from Azriel. It didn’t escape your notice how the General padded after Nesta like a lost puppy, wearing his heart on his sleeve whenever she lashed out. Part of you was jealous, and you hated yourself for it. You had no right to envy their time together – it was all part of your plan after all, and they did share a kiss during the war. Cassian seemed like a better male than Rhysand at least, maybe he’d let Nesta in on their plans. You prayed he did, otherwise it was up to you to pry information out of Azriel, and may the Mother help you if that was the case.

Speaking of Azriel, you noticed a note taped to your easel upon your return to your room after some more reading. You had spent the rest of the evening reading, only seeing Nesta once out of the corner of your eye. She was passing through on her way to the dining room, clad in tight fitting Illyrian leathers that almost made your jaw drop. The way the pants clung to her hips as she walked–

You had to physically shake your head as if it would clear the thoughts away. The two of you had to assume Azriel was somehow watching every corner of the House, so you couldn’t make a smartass comment about her leathers. Maybe you’d write it later in a letter….

No, You thought to yourself angrily. That’s inappropriate.

Frankly you didn’t even know if Nesta liked females in that way. You both liked males, that much was clear, but you had always enjoyed females as well. Frankly, if you and Nesta weren’t cooped up in the House of Wind together you doubted she’d even notice you. Perhaps you were reading too far into things, that the only reason you and her got close so quickly was because you were all each other had.

But you also couldn’t help but notice the little things about your interactions. How she had fallen asleep on your shoulder, when she was normally plagued by insomnia and nightmares. How she slept soundly through the night with you by her side, as if she felt safe in your presence. How she stood up for you so fiercely against Rhysand. The way she let you have the first plate of pancakes because she knew how much you loved them. Seeing her hard gaze soften ever so slightly at you when you ranted on about something you were excited about. Nesta appeared tense and cold around others, but there was a certain light she emitted when it was just you and her.

But what about Cassian? Whether you, or her, liked it or not, something had happened between them during the war. She had let him in, in some way, and clearly something else had gone down that caused her to shut him out. Yet you overheard them talking sometimes, and the sharp edge to her voice that she usually reserved for the Inner Circle was not entirely there.

None of this matters. You thought to yourself. It’s not the time or place. Nesta’s been through some shit and I don’t want to make her uncomfortable or be too forward.

So your feelings for Nesta, whatever they were, you shoved aside for the time being. Taking a breath, you began to read the message from Azriel.

I spoke with the High Lord and Lady. They have agreed to pay you a salary for your services, provided you deliver. If you wish to accept the offer, meet me on the balcony at 7am tomorrow. Azriel.

You groaned at the thought of having to meet that early. Spying was something you did not know how to do, nor did you have a clue as to what its training entailed, but you supposed you were about to find out.

*********************

“You’re late.”

It took everything in you not to throw your mug at Azriel’s head. “It’s 7:01.” You snapped back, irritated from lack of sleep. Truthfully, you had spent most of last night worrying about what today would bring. Azriel unnerved you, his ability to get information from people was known to fae across all courts. You just prayed you didn’t slip up, although in your exhausted state you could promise nothing.

Azriel glared, visibly irritated. “And I told you to be here at 7.”

“I’m literally one minute late.”

“Time is important in this kind of work.”

“Oh get over yourself,” You hissed, sipping your hot tea to try and warm up. “I’m here aren’t I?”

The shadowsinger said nothing, just fixing you another hard glare. You finished the last of your tea, taking your sweet time as he watched you. Slowly, you placed the cup down on the table, satisfied you had already annoyed him.

“Alright,” You said finally, your voice laced with obvious fake cheer. “What am I learning how to do today, spymaster?”

“You’ll find out.” Was all he said before turning away from you. Without another word, the shadowsinger walked away towards the other end of the long balcony. Realizing you had no choice, you followed him.

The balcony wrapped around a corner of the House, turning into a stairwell that led down. The chilly morning air wasn’t the only thing giving you goosebumps – you had no idea where Azriel was taking you, as you had never been in this area of the House before.

“Where are we going?” You asked hesitantly. Azriel ignored you, leading you further down the stairs until you came to a large wooden door. He pressed the back of his hand onto the lock, blue siphon glowing at the contact. A soft click sounded, and the door swung open. The spymaster stepped aside, gesturing for you to go inside.

“Yeah no, you first.” You snorted, planting your feet firmly on the ground. Azriel rolled his eyes, but stepped into the dark room anyways.

As you and Azriel entered, torches from the walls began to light up and illuminate the space. Your jaw dropping to the floor was a genuine reaction to what you saw.

The room was absolutely massive, almost never ending. There were various obstacles across it – rope, nets, and wooden beams alike all carefully placed. There were mats in the center, and a vast array of gear and weapons strung up on the wall. It made your gut churn, surely you were not expected to take on all of this?

As if he could read your mind, Azriel spoke up. “Don’t worry, you won’t be using most of this stuff, it’s too advanced.”

“Then what am I doing here?” You gawked. If this was his weird personal training room, surely it wouldn’t be suitable for whatever he was teaching you.

“I cannot make you a trained spy in so little time,” Azriel said, walking over to the wall and grabbing something from a trunk. “But with a couple days of hard work, I can at least make sure your chances of getting caught are lessened. You need to be able to move unseen, and make a quick escape if need be. And how to defend yourself, or more if someone figures you out.”

Your throat dried up. “You mean how to kill someone and make it look like an accident?” Your voice was barely more than a whisper.

You didn’t even care to look at what Azriel had grabbed from the trunk, you felt numb as the realization of what you were doing kicked in. The fact the High Lord was willing to put you in this position–

“It’s a grave necessity,” Azriel’s voice cut off your thoughts. “Ideally, you will not have to kill anyone, nor defend yourself. But it’s a risk in this line of work, and it is my duty to prepare you for the worst case scenario. It is unpleasant, but necessary.”

“You want me to be prepared to kill someone from my own court.” Your chest felt hollow. Why did you agree to this?

Sensing your uneasiness, Azriel stepped closer. You felt a soft brush against your arm as one of his shadows reached out and brushed your skin as if to comfort you. “Believe me, that is not my wish,” He said. “I do not like it any more than you do. But if Tamlin finds out you are spying on him for us, it could lead to another war and more violence. He is unstable, and even if he doesn’t kill you immediately he will make sure to kill others for it. If one of his guards suspects something, you will have to take care of the problem. Preferably not with murder, but it is a last resort option if you need it.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Tamlin, as unstable as he might be, wouldn’t hurt you, especially after suffering the consequences of inflicting injury upon Feyre. You had known the High Lord since you were a child – one evening, your father had fallen ill during a meeting at the manor. He had brought you along with the intention of having you play in the stream with the children of other diplomats and sentries during the meeting to keep you occupied. He had gotten too sick to take you home, and it was too risky to send someone to take you both back to your village, lest they contract whatever illness your father had. While your father rested in his guest chamber, Tamlin had kept you entertained. He accompanied you as you wandered through the gardens, explaining what each flower was. He hoisted you up in the air so you could pick the ripest apple from the tree, laughing as you shook a branch that led to some other apples falling onto his head. He read you bedtime stories and tucked you in at night. The High Lord stayed by your side in the three days it took your father to be well enough to travel, and you had never forgotten that kindness. No matter what Feyre said about him, no matter what Tamlin did to her, you would always remember that side to him and hoped it was still there after Feyre had carved his heart out.

Azriel’s voice saying your name snapped you out of your memory.

“Sorry,” You mumbled. “Yeah, I get it. I don’t like it, but I get it.”

The spymaster straightened up, shadows returning to him. “Good. Now turn around.”

You blinked, noticing the piece of cloth in his scarred hands. “Tell me that isn’t a blindfold.” You snapped.

“It isn’t a blindfold.” He responded dryly.

“Yes it is. You lead me into a dark room and want to put a blindfold on me? Kinky.”

“Just do as you’re told.”

You rolled your eyes, but obliged. Again, if your younger self heard she was letting the Night Court’s spymaster blindfold her in a secret room, she’d shit bricks. Azriel stepped behind you, gently placing the black cloth over your eyes and securing it. “Is it too tight?”

“No.” You responded.

“Good. Now you’re going to walk towards the training mat. Step onto it and wait for my instructions.”

“I don’t know which direction it’s in, I can’t fucking see.”

You could practically feel Azriel rolling his eyes at you. “You saw it when you walked in,” He said shortly. “Remember what the room looked like and where you have moved since then. It’s part of the exercise.”

Gritting your teeth, you tried to picture the layout of the room. The training mat had been in the centre, and you had turned slightly to the left when Azriel went to the trunk. Slowly, you turned your body back in the way you were originally facing and began walking forward.

Each step was unsteady, unsure if you were going to trip over some weapon on the floor. You felt like a baby deer taking its first few steps.

“Trust your instincts,” Came Azriel’s voice. “We rely on our sight too much, so let your other senses do the work.”

Eventually, you found your way to the mat, slowly stepping up onto it. You were certain you had looked like an absolute fool doing so, but you made it.

Suddenly, a set of hands came out of nowhere and pushed you over hard. Your face collided with the mat ungracefully.

“What the fuck was that?” You snapped, cheeks red as you stumbled to get up.

“You should have heard me coming.” Azriel’s voice growled. “You were too focused on the mat you forgot your environment around you.”

Your face went red with anger. “Yeah because I got like, two seconds to glance at the room before you blindfolded me, asshole!”

Azriel snorted. “Two seconds is more than you’d sometimes get, but if you’re not serious about this then we can find something else for you to do.”

“No,” You protested. “I am serious about this. But I haven’t done anything like this before so could you maybe cut me some slack?”

You heard the shadowsinger scoff. A bit wobbly, you paced around in a circle, following Azriel’s footsteps as he walked around you. You began to feel dizzy, his shadows swirling in the air and disorienting you further.

You took a deep breath, anticipating his next move. You felt movement behind you, but before you could react something solid cracked against the back of your knees. With a yelp, you yet again found yourself on the ground, legs stinging.

“Not fast enough.” Came Azriel’s stern voice. “Up.”

You bit back a retort, tears beginning to swell. You hated how pathetic you felt, how humiliating it was to have the spymaster of the Night Court blindfold you and knock you to the ground twice as if you were a child. You wanted to give up, to scream at him that you didn’t want to do this, but you held back.

I’m doing this for Nesta, You realized. For myself, yes, but also for her. If I fail at my part of the plan, she’s stuck here too.

With newfound determination, you heaved yourself up off the ground, steadying your legs. Azriel made no comment, just continued to pace around you, letting his shadows confuse you. His footsteps echoed, making you unsure of where they truly were. So you took another deep breath and focused harder, letting your other fae senses take over and hone in one where the footsteps were strongest.

After a few minutes, you felt movement to your left. Quick as a rabbit, you stepped to the right, feeling whatever solid pole Azriel was using strike the air where your left arm had just been. It barely missed you, but did not find its mark.

“Better.” Azriel said. “Again.”

*********************

The next two weeks consisted of the same pattern. Wake up at the literal ass crack of dawn, train with Azriel until the early afternoon, and then spend the rest of your day reading. You had made surprisingly good progress, which Azriel begrudgingly admitted after you pressured him into it. You were able to avoid almost all of his strikes while blindfolded, navigate obstacle courses making minimal noise, and even managed to sneak in a smack to his pretty face during a sparring session.

He was going easy on you with the fighting, you weren’t stupid. He let you get that strike in, perhaps hoping it would boost your confidence and encourage you to do a good job in the Spring Court. You were thankful he hadn’t figured you out yet, but the thought of it still haunted you and twisted your gut with worry.

Nesta’s updates were continuing to come every few days. Apparently, Elain had come prying and it ended disastrously. You snorted at that, unsure of what good Elain thought would come out of visiting the sister whose belongings she shipped off. Cassian had taken Nesta to the river house to discuss Braillyn, the mortal queen. Nesta had written that she was after three Troves: a Mask, a Harp, and a Crown. That letter had been particularly long, detailing what they did and why she sought them, also explaining that Braillyn had made an alliance with Beron Vanserra. Oh, and Rhys essentially forced Nesta to try scrying by using the threat of poor delicate Elain having to do it.

That letter made your head spin. You sat in your room as you read it, contemplating all of what you just learned. Beron was in an alliance with the mortal queen, did that mean Eris was working against the Night Court? The thought delighted you, until you remembered what your village looked like as Hybern destroyed everyone in it. No matter how much you hated the Inner Circle, their citizens have done nothing to deserve such a fate. It would be up to you to figure out which side Eris was truly on if he was making visits to Spring.

You stuffed the letters under your bed sheet, fingers searching for the slit you had carved into your mattress. You knew it would be smarter to just burn them, but you couldn’t bring yourself too. It had been weeks since you had seen more than a fleeting glance of Nesta, and your heart ached. You couldn’t bring yourself to destroy something she had touched and created for you.

A few hours ago, Azriel had informed you that you were going to the Spring Court tomorrow. You had scrawled a note to Nesta rapidly, hands shaking slightly. It had been months since you had been in Spring – you had not yet figured out how to explain your absence to Tamlin, if he even noticed.

I’m being sent to the Spring Court tomorrow morning. I don’t know how we will stay in touch, but I’ll be thinking of you. We’ll find a way.

Later that night, another knock sounded at your door. Confused, you stood up – surely the details of tomorrow’s meeting with the Inner Circle before your departure hadn’t changed? You trudged over to the door, ready to snap at Azriel for disturbing you so late. Only it was not Azriel who stood at the door.

It was Nesta.

You barely had time to acknowledge her standing there before she practically ran into the room, closing the door behind her.

“Nesta, what the hell are you–” You hissed, ready to snap at her for being so reckless after weeks of trying to convince Azriel that you were on the Night Court’s side and still fighting with Nesta.

“I found a way,” She interrupted, breathless and eyes glowing with determination. “A way for us to stay in contact.”

You blinked, dumbstruck. You had assumed that you wouldn’t hear from her while in Spring, unable to think of how to get letters to her discreetly. “How?” You asked.

“There’s a spell,” She said, grabbing the book in her hands and flipping through the pages. “It’s like the bargain spells the fae make, but slightly different. It’s old as shit and technically was the wedding vow of some ancient goddess, but it should work. If I’m right, and if we say it correctly, we’ll be able to communicate like it, sort of like Feyre and Rhysand do with their daemati abilities.”

You took a look at the female in front of you. She had gained weight, looking more muscular than before – her collarbones no longer jutted out, and her hair had more shine to it. She truly looked beautiful, you thought.

“Are you going to keep staring at me or are you going to do the spell?” Nesta interrupted your thoughts, lips twitching upwards.

“I’m just so happy to see you.” Your voice was quiet, barely above a whisper.

“Me too,” Nest said. “But I can’t stay long, it’s already risky enough taking the time to do this. It’s now or never.”

You nodded, and the Archeron sister grabbed your hands in hers. Her hands were cold, but firm as she brought up your joined hands and took a step closer. And another. You held your breath as she stood so close that her knuckles brushed your sternum, and yours against hers. And then she began to speak, in a voice so low and ethereal it could have belonged to the Mother herself,

I bind myself to you, In flesh and in mind, I am yours, and you are mine, until the stars take their last breath, and world collapses beneath our feet, our ghosts whispering in the wind, soon we shall meet.

A sensation as hot as fire and cold as ice spread from your joined hands onto your chest. You couldn’t pull away, like an invisible force kept you still as it felt like a hole was being burned into your sternum. The two of you gritted your teeth, sighing when it finally passed.

You peered down your shirt, half expecting to see a gaping hole. Instead, a glowing silver star had appeared between your breasts on your sternum. It was an eight pointed star, the four vertical and horizontal points larger than the smaller diagonal ones. Eight rays stemmed from the space between each point, and there was a small circle in the centre with lines connecting to each peak of the biggest points from within. It was beautiful, you had to admit.

“Will it always glow?” You breathed, still in awe at the magic you had just witnessed. You and Nesta were now binded with an ancient spell, and the seriousness of that finally hit you.

“No,” She replied, also panting. “Only when the other is in danger. If you say ‘evanescere’, it will fade until you command it to reappear.”

At the ancient word being mentioned, the glowing stars from your sternums faded, along with the tattoo.

“It is still there and so is its magic,” Nesta continued. “But we can hide it just in case.”

You nodded, still reeling. You and Nesta now had a way to communicate with each other – it would take some time to figure out how it fully worked, but knowing you wouldn’t be entirely alone made you happy. “Does this mean we’re technically married?” You joked. “Since we used some ancient wedding vow for the spell?”

Nesta laughed. “It holds no legitimacy as a vow,” She explained. “It was more of a declaration laced with magic to help her communicate with her wife without being daemati. If we can use it that way too, we won’t need to risk sending letters.”

“Nesta Archeron you’re a genius.”

The two of you stayed there for a few minutes, hands entwined just staring at each other. Even though you knew you would probably be safe in Spring, you could not help but gaze at her features and trying to memorize them in case you never saw her again.

Tensing, Nesta let go of you. She straightened herself up, blinking once. “Alright then. Good luck in Spring. Let me know how it goes.”

Your heart ached a little as she turned to leave. You wanted to beg her to stay, but knew it would ruin your plan. However, Nesta paused before her hand could touch the door handle.

“Nesta?” You asked hesitantly when she did not open the door.

“Fuck it.” The female mumbled, turning around and rapidly walking back over to you. Before you could ask what she was doing, Nesta grabbed your face in her hands and crashed her lips into yours.

You staggered back at the passion of it, melting into her mouth – she tasted like cinnamon and honey, and you almost moaned in happiness. You gently placed your hands on her waist, squeezing slightly as she continued to kiss you like it was the end of the world.

Nesta Archeron was kissing you. Holy fuck.

It felt like both ages and seconds at the same time when Nesta’s lips left yours. Her hands remained cupping your face, and worry crossed her features as if she was afraid she had done something wrong.

“Nesta,” You breathed quickly before she could shut down on you. “I’ll miss you a lot.”

“I’ll miss you too.” She muttered, but did not pull away out of regret like you feared. Rather, she stroked your cheek slightly with her left thumb. “Be safe.”

As quick as she came, Nesta Archeron was gone. And you didn’t know when you’d see her again.

taglist (comment if you want to be added): @queercontrarian @kitkat-writes-stuff @moonfawnx @sevikas-whore @weird-and-wise @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet @kingshitonly @ladyofcherries @eerievixen @readingwritingwatching @peacecoffeeandflowers @a-frog-with-a-laptop @shadowqueen25 @lana08 @highladyofillyria @rachelnicolee @ladespedidas @little-darlingo @manonblackbeakquidditchteam13 @demirunner @terorovaerangi @hauntedandhopeful  @younxii​

please let me know your thoughts!

#acotar #nesta archeron #nesta archeron x reader #nesta archeron fluff #nesta archeron smut #nesta archeron fic #acotar fic #neris #nesta x eris #nesta archeron x eris vanserra #nesta archeron supremacy #neris fluff #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #anti inner circle #anti feysand #anti feyre archeron #anti rhysand #sjm crossover #SJM #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #a court of silver flames #ialtpwf

[erenfox]

Y'all.

Episode 4.

It's the best piece of work Marvel has made after they made IW and Endgame.

spoiler alert 🚨

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lemme start off with our favourite Miss Jolly Rancher Unhinged Clock and Victorian-Era HWR Fangirl. I KNEW Ravonna had somehow helped HWR in building the TVA, but him erasing her memories was straight up evil.

Then we come to the absolutely gruesome deaths of Dox and the others. HOLY SHIT MISS JOLLY RANCHER IS AWFUL like she was enjoying every second of Dox and her hunters literally getting crushed to their deaths. B-15 was traumatised, to say the least and you can see on Ravonna and Brad's faces a hint of disgust. But Miss Minutes grinning like that - outright disturbing.

I can't get over OB and Victor fanboying over each other's work - it was so funny yet wholesome.

Now let's talk about Loki and Sylvie. As a diehard Sylki stan you know I am, my fangirling heart was overjoyed seeing these two lovesick ducks working together willingly! I mean, yea, they did have that rather awkward talk in Pie Land (mind you that's it's official name henceforth) but after that they worked together as teammates! Now I must say, I completely agree with Sylvie on snapping on Mobius, because, well, yeah, the multiverse is a bigger priority than pie and I legit don't get why tf antis hate on Sylvie for doing so. Like you hated her for not giving a damn abt the TVA + the multiverse, but now when she stood up to do so y'all are hating on her again?? Like?? Make up ur mind, smh.

Anyways, back to Sylki. Sylvie got stuck in the elevator and the way she and Loki worriedly called out each other's names was so soft! And the "You ok?" trope CAME BACK OMG! THAT PHRASE IS LITERALLY THE BACKBONE OF SYLKI! When I tell you my fangirling heart screamed with joy omg-

The the whole paradox scene which brought Ep 1 back in a circle. I absolutely loved the way our Loki realised what he had to do and went real slow to prune his past self just so that Past Loki could get a glimpse of Sylvie; which would then lead him to be more determined than ever to go look for her. And I quite literally died on Sylvie being confused af as to wtf she just witnessed.

Then there's the telephone scene. OH MY GOD it was literally OB all this time when fans were out here speculating it was Kang or someone lmao. Both Loki and Sylvie yelling simultaneously to turn the security thing off gives out so much Couple Vibes, I absolutely loved it AAHHAHAH-

AND. THE. BRAD. SCENE. OOF.

our friendly neighbourhood lovesick ducks teaming up to enchant Brad was just too good. Loki in his hot, creepy voice luring Brad into a dark area while Sylvie very swiftly just straight up grabbing his face from the back - pure horror. Absolutely loved it, 10/10. Tho I must say, to do execute elaborate scheme, these two must have done some detailed planning (=more Sylki moments we were robbed off).

BUT THAT ENDING DUCKING MURDERED ME BROO OMG

Can we talk abt Victor's redemption? Man had been portrayed as evil since Quantumania, and has been manipulated by both Ravonna and Miss Jolly Rancher, but at the end of the day, he was a sweetheart. Man fanboys OB and basically became besties with him and Casey, worked together to create the solution to a mess he most certainly didn't want to be a part of, and then himself stepped up to fix the Loom once and for all to prove to everyone (and not let Sylvie's choice of sparing him go to waste) that tho he contained HWR's DNA, he wasn't HWR - he was a far better person HWR could have ever been. Seeing him getting spaghettified was tragically heart-wrenching, man deserved so much better :(

BUT HOLY SHIT DID THAT ONE HECK OF A GODDAMN CLIFFHANGER LEFT ME SPEECHLESS LIKE WTF WAS THAT?? U can't just kill off a character who had redeemed himself, and then make our main character and his homies watch literally EVERYTHING THEY WORKED SO HARD FOR GET ANNIHILATED TO THE GROUND-

But we know our God of Mischief isn't dead, and so are his homies eheheh.

However the looks on everyone's face was tragic. Loki knew all was lost and had tears in his eyes. Sylvie looked like she had accepted defeat and her death. Mobius and OB were in denial, refusing to believe that Victor was dead. Casey and B-15 looked horrified, as they realised what was to come now upon them.

Tldr, this episode was an ABSOLUTE BANGER. IM READY TO CLAIM IT SUPERIOR THAN ENDGAME, come and fight me. Its a top cinematic piece, and the suspense to Ep 5 is eating me up.

Ig i should go and study for the 4 tests this week before ep 5 ;-;

#this episode has killed me and now ill go peacefully scream in my pillow ty #im screaming #miss jolly rancher is completely unhinged #loki #loki season two #loki season 2 #loki laufeyson #sylki #sylvie laufeydottir #sylvie #loki series #mobius #victor timely #ravonna renslayer #miss minutes #casey #hunter b 15 #ouroboros #OB #i hate cliffhangers #im so dead

[softhairedhotch]

omg speaking of male ocs/reader . i just wanted to share about this One trope that got me CRAZYYY is secret relationships... the one's where aaron and oc are like pretty much dating but are trying to keep it a total secret from the rest of the team because #professionalism.... but they keep making little slip ups bc they're just so in love 😭😭 i think its just SOOO CUTE 😭😭😭

N THIS ONE SCENARIO THATS STUCK IN MY HEAD is like oc ended up sleeping over at aaron's place then in the morning his phone rings. but male oc doesn't realise that it's AARON'S phone (and not his) so he answers half asleep. but then on the other end of the line is another team member who's like "oh sorry- thought it was... i must have dailed the wrong number- wait... 🤨🤨" then male ocs like HORRIFIED and aaron soon wakes up to the sound and he's also SHOCKED but he tries to put on his #serious professional gruff voice and coming up with some excuse like they drank last night and then dozed on the couch or smth 😭😭 then subsequently aaron n reader have to keep defending themselves by saying it was just a #bro activity and that's they're just Bros n nothing more

my god... just thinking about how cute aaron is when he's flustered 😭😭😭 like how he has the 🥺 eyes but tries to cover it up with a 🤨😐🙄 "i don't know what you're talking about . can we talk about work now". LIKE the episodes when the team teased aaron when he was going out w beth My GODDDD HES SOOOO ADORABLE WHEN HES IN LOVE 😭😭😭😭 like his boyish grin n the way his face crinkles... i cannot deal with this

- 🤲

yesssss i LOOOVEEEE secret relationships sooo much, especially when it's like cute lil gestures during work or getting each other coffee n kissing when no ones around or cuddling at work bc they have to share a room and no one's gonna know <33 (unless one of the team happens to burst into the room bc they think aaron or the oc is in trouble somehow 🤭🤭🤭 and sees them snuggled up on the bed all cute 🤭🤭🤭 as they're holding their gun bc they think they were gonna find an unsub with them or them missing but noooo they're just wrapped up allllll cute in each other's arms 🤭🤭🤭)

OUGH I LOOOOOOVE THAT SCENARIO!!!!! heheh i love the idea of penny calling and being like "hey sir i- wait a moment i thought i called- no i know i did bc he's on speed dial so that means- oh my GOD you and boss man are CANOODLING" and oc/reader is just like "nonono i accidently slept here!!" n she's like "WHY WERE YOU THERE IN THE FIRST PLACE 🤭🤭" and aaron wakes up n takes the phone and is like "he came over to help me with jack and we drank a lil now we're asleep on the couch" and idk if she'd do this fr but maybe penny can track the phone real quick and she's like "then why does it say you're in the bedroom rn 😏" LMAOOO and bless them they're just trying sooooo hard to brush it off!!!

"we're just brooooos man bros gotta cuddle the homes sometimes!!!" 😭😭 it'd be lowkey so funny if oc is just like "don't you think aaron deserves a cuddle or two, guys? it ain't gay i swear man he's just in need of some love from the homies yknow. hey morgan maybe you should snuggle him next-" "absolutely not" "-i'm sure he'd love that! he just needs some loving, man" LMAOOO

and yesssss they'd tease his sooooo much <333 he'd get all flustered bless him and it'd be adorable and he'd be wanting to tell everyone they ARE together bc he wants to show oc off sooo much and give him work smooches and just be like "yeah this is MY BOYFRIEND!!!!" bc he's soooooo cute and in love but for now he just gets used to the teasing from the team (dave and penny mostly, but sometimes emily and spencer catch him off guard) hehe <3 it'd be like that scene where rossi looks at him once and just KNOWS he got a date with beth or something hehe and he goes "attaboy 😏" after he confirms he has!!! OUGH i neeeed him to smile like that at the thought of dating me SO MUCH and for rossi to be proud AHHHHH

and just the idea of a male oc making him all smiley and goofy and happy again <33 he kinda becomes how he used to be again GODDD like he's just happy again GODDDD 😭

his SMILE DJSKDJ GODDDDDDDD I LOVE HIM I LOVE HIM I LOVE HIM I LOOOOOOOVE HIM

also i currently have like 5 male oc's written up for him (like fics planned out or ideas for it) LMAOO they're all mostly from when i was in the fandom in 2021 but i wanna go back to the ideas sooooooo much 😭 and i made a new one a few days ago for a lil one chapter fic i wanna post hehe, it's so dramatic tbh but seems to also end in smut LMAO so hopefully i can get it out sometime 💪just need to write aaron being gay without it being reid or morgan amen (even tho i LOVE hotchgan)

thank you sm for the ask hehe <3

#🤲 anon #casks #casper's anons #YOU'RE SO BIG BRAIN FR #LIKE FRRRR #i love it #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x male reader #aaron hotchner x male oc #works for both tags i suppose lol #criminal minds

[plasticfangtastic]

Maybe am just retarded but i will never understand the redditors who insist that nobody but the selected few intellectuals understand that The Boys is satire.

Throwing the words "media illiterate" left and right to justify a decline on the writing of the show bcuz of course they have to dumb it down and be even more explicit with their satire so ppl will stop thinking Homelander is cool!!! BCUZ HE IS BAD DONT U GET THAT HE IS BAD!! STOP LIKING HIM REEEE!!! They scream and seethe in the back.

As if the reason people like him is not because he is a cool villain and he is interesting and incredibly well acted.

Is there a % of ppl who refuse/miss the satire? Yeah but why does everybody else must suffer bcuz they wanna own a small % of their viewership? Or Homie fans?

To be honest i think most ppl who think Homelander is a "literally me fr fr" characther or think he is a hero probably only know him from memes (i always think of this one reddit post of a guy showing his dad the show and his dad being shocked that Homelander wasnt this silly sad guy getting put on situations bcuz of how he is portrayed in memes) i just dont think the writers realized that the pop culture portrayal of Homelander has cemented an image thats disconnected from the source material, which ppl have found relatable (not to mention most literally me guys tend to be violent fuckers so i dont think his violence is lost to ppl is just a meme lost on you) and they dont need to try to rectify the masses for wrong think.

Like nobody asked to suffer thru what i expect to be a painful viewing experience that will be non-stop trump references and parodies that will be violent beaten on the viewers bcuz they r angry that people had the audacity of liking this friendless loser with a great ass over other characthers (as if 99% of the characthers arent horrible fucking wankers except for the Gen V kids those r precious and i will defend them to death) not to mention how annoying it will be for the non americans like myself who are just so done with the cultural obsession over a dude not even in power anymore.

Like S1 and S2 were clever with their satire while it was always left leaning in their politics it was nice to see them at least take a jab at the champaigne libs and their attitudes that negatively affects their side (bare minimum really) but at least it felt like it had something to say.... mind u i absorb this show as a characther lead show and zone out the americanism bcuz it provides absolutely nothing for my latino/australian brain like its not relatable or interesting anymore. Like if they start parodying The Liberal and Labor party or the Greens that would be interesting to watch.

#personal #rant #the boys amazon #this blog is my diary #screaming to the void here #am.just here bcuz i wanna see ppl die or have their revenge #and yet HL is literally the mascot of the show i feel the writers r angry about amazon shilling for HL in order to sell subscription & merc

[celestialholz]

For some reason, I’m seriously wondering if Brassius is /younger/ than he looks, like…Cyrus does NOT look 27, yet there he is. And Brassius was confirmed to have had physically and mentally torturous younger years as an artist struggling for recognition. I’m not saying he’s also 27 mind you, he’s more likely in his late 30’s, /maybe/ early 40’s if we’re being generous.

This…also brings up the potential of an age gap in his and Hassel’s relationship, depending on when they met. Hassel’s likely in his 50’s (somewhere on the low end, maybe), meaning they might have anywhere from a 10 to 15 year age gap in their relationship!

I’m not saying there was any orbiting mind you, they were both fully-grown legal adults when they met, and all my homies hate orbiting—but it’s something to consider, given we don’t have canon ages for every character outside of a very small few.

Ah, my dear anonymous friend, today I must have a chat with you all on coding.

Cyrus looks like this at 27 because he's wrong. His storyline is finding a way to mend the 'incomplete human spirit', and yet in his design and actions we see his flawed viewpoint. The narrative asks you to consider that if this is what perfection looks like, why is everyone else different? Why does everyone else look their age, or younger, and yet they're somehow incorrect? It's because everyone else isn't wrong. Cyrus' cold heart is draining him of his youth and vitality - he's too serious, and so it shows upon his skin. He's a commentary, a man too driven and too angry at entirely the wrong thing. He will unleash the literal embodiment of Satan to 'save us all', which is dictator language if I've ever heard it. It's why he wears grey, white and black - at his 'core', where the white undershirt is (the colour of purity), he has good intentions, or at least believes he does; his jacket is grey because he's morally ambiguous, lying to his team with again, what he thinks are good intentions - he's saving everyone, isn't he, what's the sacrifice of some good soldiers compared to that? And it's predominantly black, because his heart, and his thoughts, are literally 'dark.' He's a walking red flag on virtually every level, which makes the fact that his name literally means 'sun' particularly funny. He thinks he's bringing light to the world, but all he's bringing is darkness.

Contrast all of that to this lovely fellow here.

Brassius is physically marked by time because of both illness and depression - he was never 'wrong' in the way Cyrus is, so his lines and frown are a measure of struggling rather than a mental issue. The transformation here is palpable - the man we see jumping from rooftops and being the King of Drama is not necessarily young accordingly, he's alive. He's living his best life later in that life because he never could before - he's been healed, physically and spiritually, by Hassel. The coding here is of a youth unfortunately missed - he was drained of it too, but in an entirely different manner. Hilarious, because as I've pointed out before, Brassius is moon-coded to Hassel's sun coding - he's reflected his light, and now shines in his own right, whereas Cynthia - whose name similarly means 'moon' - is a reflection of Cyrus, the 'good' mirror to his wild ideals.

The difference lies not only in narrative, but in coding. Cyrus is a petulant youth, shouting at the world that won't listen until he makes them; Brassius is a grandpa-esque figure of art and wisdom. He's seen shit, and therefore he's basically every child's adorable little gay uncle. He's not jumping off windmills because he's full of youth, especially when we know from his rematch that it hurts his knees - he's jumping off windmills because he can. Because he's living now, because he's a role model, because he basks in literal sunlight... which is probably why he trains Grass-types, narratively. Needs that photosynthesis. <3

Likewise, speaking of men who are living nowadays...

Here is a man who has also been through some shit - the burden of responsibility vs. the freedom of being your authentic self, who has also been healed by finding his little free-spirited, unapologetic artist husband. You'll see looking at them together like this, the only thing really distinguishing the two in wrinkles is the lines around Hassel's mouth... which is pretty easy to explain away as continuous frowning, when you've spent a good portion of your life hiding your true softness and trying to be the head of the family your heritage expects you to be.

It's a very different and beautiful take on the Sinnoh dynamic, honestly. Where Cyrus and Cynthia are at odds, both fighting for their own greater good, the sun and the moon here are in harmony - they're equals at every turn. One heals the other, and vice versa; they're both role models for young people; Brassius' art depicts them both to varying degrees; Hassel shows up at gym two; Flapple is half of them each... neither seems inadequate at all. Even the skill gap evens up, because they become very similarly levelled during the gym leader rematches.

And when you've got coding like that...

Is Hassel the older one, here? Oh, almost definitely. We don't know any canon ages in Paldea except Dendra, who explicitly tells us she's 25, and therefore, Tulip must be a very similar age as they grew up together. Everyone else is up for debate, really, aside from the kids obviously being kids. But this has all been a very long way to say, dearest anon, that I don't think this age gap's as wide as you might think. :) I think, in the spirit of equality, Brassius looks older than he is, and Hassel does too, because they've both had lives of turmoil - if I had to stick numbers on it, Brassius is early 40s, and Hassel's late 40s. But as you rightly point out my unknown pal, there's no orbiting here. This is a healthy and wonderful relationship of absolute equilibrium, as my meta masterpost on them will explain more easily than I can summarise here. Both of them are utter sweethearts with good hearts, and everything they are is built on mutual respect and appreciation. But you don't usually achieve mastery of your craft, and especially not after early disadvantages, unless you're of a certain age. These two are endgame life material, the 'happily ever after' of achieving true self-worth as well as true love. They stand as our in-game grandpas for a reason. :)

#ephemeralartshipping #hassius #hassel x brassius #hassel #brassius #pokemon scarlet and violet #love me some inbox meta honestly <3 #pride month win once again! these artists are gay and completely equal! #ask #answered