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ciaraswritings · 1 year

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Unexpected.

Disclaimer: I do not own DC or their characters, or their settings. This is certainly not canon.

Warnings & Topics: Suggestive themes, emotional distress, physical exhaustion, pregnancy. 18+.

Word Count: 3.9K words

Summary: Batmom! reader finds out she is pregnant a short time after marrying Bruce Wayne, not in the most pleasant of ways. Telling him won't be easy, but Alfred gives her some encouragement.

Author's note: After four hours of work, I deem my first fanfiction suitable for posting. Thank you for all the support. I hope you enjoy.

It'd been two months since that beautiful, blissful, romantic day. Actually, two months, two weeks, and one day. But who was counting, right?

The newspapers were. Headlines of gossip news, huge block letters in bold, depicted that I had been spotted at the gym alone again, also describing their support for my "weight loss journey" since I had been "losing my figure". I had been reading this article over and over for about an hour. Damn. I inspected the black and white photo of myself in leggings and a tank top. The worst part about, well, everything, is that they were right. I was losing my figure, noticeably.

I didn't even notice Alfred behind me until he spoke. "No matter how many times you read them, the words are not going to change, ma'am."

I jumped slightly. I hadn't been sleeping or eating well at all, my back and chest ached too much to relax, and heartburn hit me like a batarang after meals. I think I had gotten thirty hours of sleep in the last week, and maybe one meal a day. "Thank you, Alfred. Do you know when dinner will be ready?"

"In a half hour, ma'am." The butler moved to the other end of the kitchen table to face me. "Those words in the paper are words that all who love you disagree with."

Alfred's words touched me if only a little, and I set down the paper. "Thank you, I think I'm going to take a walk."

He looked concerned, but just for a moment. "Alright, ma'am. Try not to be late, the chicken may be devoured."

Chuckling, I stepped out into the early evening light. I would not be late for dinner, living with five hungry men teaches you a lot. The sunlight embraced me, bathing me in its gentle rays, glimmering over my face. I felt positively glorious. Closing my eyes, I soaked it in. My husband would soon be home to kiss me and keep an arm around my waist. The simple thought of his touch made my mouth stretch into a smile. Five more minutes, and I'll go in.

Five minutes turned into twenty. Being amongst the blooming flowers and the busy insects kept me occupied. Not only that, but a sudden headache had overtaken me. I sat in the grass, unladylike, watching the bees collect their last supply of nectar from the flowers for the day. Grass stains never bothered me anyway. I knew time was getting away from me, but I couldn't seem to bring myself to focus on anything. I didn't want to go inside because I didn't want bedtime to arrive. It was too painful to even think about. My head and back reminded me of that even now.

My vision blurred slightly, I could only focus on a single flower on the bushes before me, bees continuing to fly around it. This was nice. I couldn't focus on a single thing, or think about anything, or worry.

I felt myself fall, sort of, to the ground. Fall was the best word I know to describe it. I was already sitting on the ground, but my muscles suddenly felt like pudding. My head bumped to the grass and laid to rest. Terror gripped my heart and throat for a single second before everything just... relaxed. My vision went next, but I was okay with that. This was so relaxing. I wanted to stay.

...

"Madam. Madam (Y/N)!" The voice came from... maybe a mile away. Maybe. Maybe ten miles. Maybe a hundred.

"(Y/N), madam (Y/N)!" Something cold was on my face. Ugh. I don't like that. The wind bit and stung at where the cold wetness was on my cheek. Ouch.

"Wake up, madam!" No. I don't want to. Go away. But the voice sounds scared.

I slowly, slowly, with great effort, opened my eyes. Instantly they closed again. My friend the butler was hovering over me. What was his name again?

"Mom!" New voice. Go the hell away. I open my eyes again.

"I'm here, I'm fine." Sitting up took much more strength than opening my eyes, but I managed to do so. Dick and Alfred worriedly stare at me. "I was just taking a nap."

"That wasn't a nap, it looked like you passed out." Dick was the one with the cold wet cloth. He put it to my head again. I gave him a withering glare, and he pulled it away again, looking apologetic.

"It was a nap, of course I didn't pass out. Now let me return to it," I waved my hand in no particular direction, trying to shoo them away like mice.

"I am afraid I cannot allow you to sleep on the cold ground in nothing but your loungewear, ma'am." Alfred took the cloth from Dick and put it to my forehead.

Lord, they were being so annoying, I just wanted to go back to sleep. My eyelids drooped and my words slurred. "Bed hurts too much right now... just come back later..." my head finally dropped forward as vision began to diminish again.

I couldn't really tell what they said next. What I could remember was, "Inside now... call the... when they can see her..." and "...got her... go and tell him... I've got it..."

The sensation of being lifted did not startle my dozing. Neither did the shouting, nor the feeling of hands on my face. I had earned this sleep, and I was going to... enjoy... it...

...

I was awake, but I didn't want to open my eyes. It wasn't time. Please don't let it be time. I peeked a glance at my watch. Eight in the morning on a Sunday? Yeah, back to sleep we go.

Before I could return to my dreamless sleep, I became aware of unidentified breathing beside me. Was that Titus? Or maybe Alfred. Maybe I had been kidnapped. Did I care? Hell to the no. All I cared about at this present moment was slumber. If I was kidnapped, I could sleep all I wanted while I waited for them to rescue me.

Then, like a train, uninvited and on its own, the back pain hit my lower body. I couldn't help the moan of discomfort that tore from my throat.

Instantly, a hand went to my forehead. It felt so cold against my warm head. I'd better see who this person with the cold hands is and tell them to go stick their fingers in a campfire before touching me again.

When I opened my eyes, I realized I wasn't even in the garden anymore. Alfred, I told you I wanted to stay on the ground. But it wasn't Alfred who had put freezing digits on my forehead. It was my husband, my dearest Bruce, my wonderful partner in... crime didn't seem like a good choice of words. His worried blue eyes bored into my sleep-deprived (Y/C) eyes. Ouch, that gaze made my headache come back.

"Hello. Go warm your hands up," I told the love of my life before closing my eyes again. The light from the window seemed to be penetrating my very brain.

"My hands are warm," replied the bearer of freezing fingers.

"Please, feels like your hands went to the Artic circle for winter vacation." My stubborn retort took a lot out of me, but I could practically hear his small smile.

"There's my girl," he murmured. I opened my eyes again to smile at my wonderful... freezing... man.

"Yeahhh, your girl's going back to dreamland. Night night." I grunted at the pain stabbing me in the back, the throbbing in my head, and the emptiness in my stomach.

"Not yet, sweetheart. Stay right here. The doctor's going to be here at ten, you should freshen up a bit."

I opened one eye to glare unhappily at him. "Don't need a doctor. Need a nap."

His chuckle annoyed me to the very core, almost scaring away the shooting pains in my back. "I'm sorry, but this needs to happen. Do you know how worried we all were when we heard you had fainted in the garden? The boys hardly wanted to go on patrol, they wanted to look after you."

"The boys didn't want to go on patrol? You didn't want to look after me?" I glared playfully at my handsome knight. "And I didn't faint... just took a nap."

"On the cold hard ground?" His questioning gaze made me open both my eyes.

"Yes, it felt nice on my back."

"Does your back still hurt, sweetheart?"

"Yes, it still hurts."

"And you didn't feel like sleeping in the bed?"

"The hell is this, an interrogation?"

"Maybe," he grinned.

"Go away," I retorted, closing my eyes. "I have to go to work, no time for doctors."

"I called and told them you can't come in this week."

"This... this is why I married you."

It didn't take long to fall back into blissful, painless paradise. Bruce left me alone, but I knew he was close by, watching over me. The mansion was so quiet and peaceful, I knew the boys were fast asleep.

Much too soon, I was being kissed awake.

"Darling, Doctor Thompkin's here. It's time to wake up." Bruce's forehead kisses were, for the very first time in our relationship, annoying.

"Ugh." I rolled over to escape, my back cracking.

"Upsy daisy." He stroked my back, gently massaging my painfully aching muscles.

Sitting up took all the strength I had, and yet I had to find more to answer the questionnaire the doctor was springing upon me. Bruce stepped out mid-examination to answer a phone call, leaving the woman to observe my body and take into consideration my answers to her questions. Her questions seemed endless. "Have you been out of the country in the last month?"

"No."

"Have you been feeling depressed or hopeless?"

"No."

"Are you on any medications?"

"No."

"Do you or any family members have history of scoliosis?"

"No."

"History of heartburn?"

"No."

"When was your last menstrual cycle?"

"It's marked on the calendar, couple pages back."

"Do you know what year it is?"

I gave her a funny look. "Of course I do, what's wrong with you?" Now I feel bad for saying that, but I certainly didn't in the moment.

The doctor chuckled, her friendly eyes had laughter lines around them. "Just wanted to make sure you're still with me. Are you on birth control?"

"Yes."

"How long have you been on birth control?"

"Couple months. I went on it during our honeymoon."

"During?"

"Yes, we realized condoms and plan B weren't as convenient as the pill."

"I'm going to need a blood sample and then we're done here. I'll be in touch with the results. You don't seem to be suffering from scoliosis, but I'll contact you about x-rays to confirm. I haven't made a house call in a long time, or practiced family medicine, but I'll do everything I can to make sure we get to the root of this."

"Okay."

The blood draw seemed to take longer than I remembered blood draws taking. The prick of the needle didn't disturb the haze of sleepiness that still surrounded me. The woman's departure signaled another wave of sleepiness to wash over me. Bruce and Alfred were showing the doctor out as my head hit the pillow. Pain shot up my back, but sleep had already captured me.

Tomorrow turned into today, and then today became yesterday. It felt like I slept the whole Monday, skipping work and family dinner. Tuesday morning came with sunshine and kisses from my darling husband as I slowly opened my eyes.

"Hi," I smiled at him. One of Bruce's arms was holding me almost loosely as he lay next to me in the white sheets. He looked worn and tired from a long night of patrol. I sniffed him. Good, he had showered.

"Hello." His tired kiss on my lips was slowly waking me. "I love you."

"I love you too," I told him. My smile was getting bigger and my world was waking up. I traced the shape of his exhausted eyes. "Close your eyes. Sleep."

"Mmph." His eyes closed and his body relaxed under my touch. Normally, Bruce was the one to hold me tight and kiss me to sleep, to caress my body and keep me safe. Looking over his body, I realized that he had been through a difficult night of patrol. A stitched gash across his back, an unhappy bruise on his jaw, scratches on his forearms. Worrying about my "condition" probably hadn't helped him stay alert out there in the dangerous night of Gotham. Guilt washed over me. My arms protectively wrapped around my dearest husband, my lips pressing to his forehead. Today, I was going to keep him safe, I was going to comfort him through his slumber.

...

Bruce's snoring wasn't exactly a lullaby, so I was up and about after a few hours. The boys were crashed in their rooms and Alfred was busy baking something that smelled like chocolatey deliciousness. I was looking over the morning paper, again, skimming for any mention of my family or I. Unhealthy habit, you could say. I was curled up in an armchair next to the bed, keeping the rustling of the newspaper pages to a minimum.

Vibrations of Bruce's cell phone made me look up. As silently as I could, I leaped up and grabbed the phone from the bedside table on Bruce's side. My husband's sleep was important to me, and if I had it my way, nothing at all would disturb it, not even nightmares.

I carried the cell phone out of the bedroom and glanced at the caller ID. Doctor Thompkins. Results. Yes. This wasn't the first time I had answered my husband's phone, so I wasn't going to feel guilt over finding out my own test results. "Hello?"

"(Y/N), hello. I'm calling with your results."

"Tim's been telling everyone in the family it's yellow fever, please prove him wrong."

"Hah, no, it is not yellow fever... I'd say it's something a little more... serious."

I stiffened. My aching back didn't like that. "What's up?"

"We spoke about your history with birth control, but we need to talk about it again. It would seem that there was some window of time where you and Bruce were not using protection."

My backache must've hit my brain, because looking back, I can't believe I didn't catch on. "Bruce gave me a disease?"

"Not a disease. You're pregnant, (Y/N). I can't make an estimate on how many weeks you are, but I'm going to give you the contact information for an OBGYN. Make an appointment as soon as you can. Congratulations, Mrs. Wayne."

...

When Bruce woke up, I had to apologize to him for his cracked cell phone screen. I told him the truth, that I'd dropped it, but I didn't explain that it was from shock. He told me it was alright, that he'd pick up a new one, but he wasn't quite sure why I looked so very upset over dropping his phone. That would explain itself in time.

I didn't eat a thing at dinner that night, despite my full plate and coaxing from my family. Even the finest cut of steak is unappealing when something like that is on one's mind.

Who wouldn't overthink a thing like this? Pregnant, after a literal two months of marriage? Pregnant, while caring for four boys that you saw as your sons? Pregnant, after your husband had told you he didn't want anymore children? Pregnant, after you had both tried to be careful? Pregnant, to one of the greatest vigilantes and most successful businessmen in the world? Pregnant. I am pregnant. I might have my husband's baby.

"Mom!"

My head jerked up and I was greeted by five concerned faces.

"Ma, you look like you're in another world," Jason forked a piece of potato.

"Maybe I am in another world, Jay-Jay." I smiled slightly before standing. Ten eyes observed my every move.

"Ummi, where are you going?" Damian, the one who I expected would be the least concerned, watched me with huge, worried eyes.

"I think I need to sleep more. I will see you all tomorrow morning." I kissed every head at the table, my lips lingering on my husband's forehead. He rested his hand on the back of my neck, pulling me down for a gentle kiss. I think he noticed my hesitance, but I didn't stop to think about it or explain. My back only permitted me to walk up the stairs, but if I could've run, I would've.

Once Bruce and the boys had left for their night of patrol, I breathed again. Laying on the bed, clutching my pillow to my chest, trying to rehearse how I would address the situation to Bruce, it took a lot out of me. "Bruce, I need to tell you something," I mumbled. "No... Bruce, we need to talk."

"Madam, I am not sure if you have noticed, but Master Bruce is not here." Alfred's voice startled me for the second time this week.

"I wish he was. I'm sorry, I'm... practicing." I tried to give my friend a reassuring smile but it came out as a grimace.

"Good luck, madam," Alfred set down a cup of tea on my bedside table and gave me a genuine Alfred smile. Before he was out of the room, he turned back and looked me dead in the eye. "Master Bruce loves you very much, Madam (Y/N). He would not have married you if he was not ready to take on the unexpected. He will not turn you away when you tell him, so try not to overthink."

I looked straight back into this wonderful gentleman's eyes. "Thank you."

...

I tried to sleep through the night, I really did. When dawn and my boys arrived, I was still wide awake, not having slept a wink. I trotted down the stairs to the batcave, taking extra care not to trip. Once on the floor, we went through our post-patrol routine of inspecting each one of my boys. First Damian, who shrugged me off several times before allowing me to look over him, then Tim, who accepted my worrying for what it was, then Jason, who pretended to be annoyed for show, then Dick, who looked over me as carefully as I looked over him, then finally Bruce, who would not stop kissing me, barely giving me a chance to check him for injuries.

No one was truly hurt, but all but one were tired as they pulled off their suits. The boys trudged upstairs to their rooms, but my husband carried me valiantly up the stairs to our place in the master bedroom, like a knight carrying his princess.

Once the bedroom door was shut and he had set me down, I was instantly on my back laying on the bed, Bruce's lips showing affection to my neck and collarbone. A soft, throaty moan left my mouth as my husband kissed me, his hands working their way over my body. I was clothed in my favorite outfit of a tank top and leggings, and I knew they were at risk of being torn from my torso and limbs if I allowed this to continue. Besides... I had to tell Bruce.

"Darling..." the word I said was half-moaned. "Darling, please, you need to shower."

"I thought you liked my scent?" Bruce chuckled, looking up at me, his hands working their way up my shirt.

"Mmm, I do, but you are going to dirty our sheets that Alfred worked so hard to wash."

"You have a valid point, but I don't like it." Bruce grinned and pulled off the little clothing he wore. I chuckled and rolled my eyes, watching him make his way to the shower. If I hadn't had such a burden on my mind, I would've joined him. I could hear him muttering insults at the slippery bar of soap that his large fingers always seemed to have trouble grasping, and it made me smile. My hand absentmindedly rested on my stomach and I wondered if his child would have the same troubles as their father.

Bruce's shower was shorter than usual. Much shorter than if I had been in there with him. Chuckling, I made room for my knight in the bed. He hadn't bothered to put on clothes, or dry his hair. Bruce climbed on top of me, drops of water falling from his hair to my chest. His lips reattached to mine, devouring the kiss like a wild man. I knew what he had on his mind from the way he caressed my body, and I had to put a stop to it.

"Bruce... Bruce, wait."

Concerned eyes met mine. "(Y/N)?"

Alfred's words replayed in my mind. He would not have married you if he was not ready to take on the unexpected. I stared into the beautiful blue eyes I had grown to take comfort in. "Bruce, Doctor Thompkins diagnosed me."

Instantly, his desire was forgotten. Bruce sat back on the bed and pulled me onto his lap. "Tell me, darling, what is it?"

His arms made me feel so safe. He will not turn you away when you tell him, so try not to overthink. "I... you need to expect the unexpected."

"So I'm guessing it's not yellow fever, since that's what Tim expects," Bruce smiled. The gentle attempt at humor didn't lift the worry in his eyes.

"Heh, no... not exactly. It's... it's a baby." The last three words were much quieter than the others.

Bruce looked at me quizzically. "I don't think I heard you correctly."

"A baby," I honestly voiced my diagnosis, somewhat fearfully looking into his eyes. "I'm pregnant."

Bruce's glare pierced mine. He gently slid me off his lap and set me on the bed before standing and walking to the window to silently stare out of it. His breathing had changed, his body was stiff, everything about him seemed cold and hardened.

My worst fears bit and tore at my heart, anxiety gripping my throat like a murderer. Oh Lord, he doesn't want me anymore. I didn't know whether to go to him, or leave the mansion, or stay in the bed, or cry, or speak. So I just waited, for a full two minutes, staring at my husband's scarred back. After waiting that long, tears began to prick at my eyes. I finally laid down and curled into the cold sheets. "I'm sorry."

I heard him turn. "What are you sorry for?"

"Not paying attention to my birth control. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," my tears left wet spots on the pillowcase. I closed my eyes tightly.

Then I felt his weight on his side of the bed, he was laying beside me. Bruce collected me into his arms, tilting my chin up, asking me silently to look at him. I opened my wet eyes.

"I'm not angry with you. I'm thinking about it. Just let me think." Bruce's rough, calloused fingers brushed against my peach soft cheek.

"Okay." I closed my eyes to fight back angry, hot tears. He pulled me to his chest, holding me to himself. I could practically hear the wheels turning in his head.

He must've held me like that for an hour before he finally, finally spoke. "Well, this isn't what I thought two months into our marriage would look like."

My tears had left stains on his chest. Only a surge of bravery made me look up at him. "Yeah."

He looked down at me, smiled, kissed my lips, and I felt my husband's love course through my body. He may have turned me away physically, but he had never turned me away emotionally. I sat up on his lap, straddling him, my forehead resting on his, my hands on his cheeks. "I love you."

"And I love you," Bruce's fingers brushed against my waist. He seemed hesitant, and his eyes met mine. "May I?"

I was confused for a moment, but then I realized and nodded, beaming. "Yes."

His large hand rested on my stomach. The wheels in his head were still turning, but they had calmed, and they were only turning in the name of love.

"Expect the unexpected."

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honeyhotteoks · 5 months

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this night together - chapter twelve (j.yh + s.mg)

chapter twelve: home is always home

chapter summary: you were planning to tell them how you felt on saturday, but when things go sideways at the studio you find yourself running home as fast as you can.

warnings: this is the chapter i've been warning about for a long, long time. please read responsibly if you're easily triggered by any of the following topics - guy who can't take no for an answer, aggressive/sexist language, physical and verbal assault, panic/ptsd, physical injury/blood, hospitals, police interaction (mentioned), nightmares/night terrors, self harm (sort of?)

notes: please note, if you're reading this on or around 12.3.23 when i'm posting, i've put up three chapters at once. make sure you don't skip chapter ten and eleven! additional notes under the cut~!

pairings: alpha!yunho x alpha!mingi x omega!reader

genre: smut, a/b/o/omegaverse, angst, fluff, romance, polyamory

word count: 11.6k

previous chapter | next chapter | AO3

for my readers who aren't that familiar with a/b/o, i'm introducing something in this chapter that you may not have seen before. i wanted to add some context! if you're new to a/b/o, there is something that alphas have often called "alpha tone", "alpha voice", or just "tone". alphas in many depictions have the ability to lower their voice in a particular way that is seen as a strict command to an omega, and it triggers/activates their submission. this is something that can be used negatively or positively, but in this scene will be negative. there's also something called headspace/subspace that you will see referenced, and an omega can be put into headspace/subspace via alpha tone. it is a bit of a dissociative state where the omega can only really hear and understand commands. this can be used negatively or positively as well, but again, definitely not good in this scene. i hope that helps.... and happy/responsible reading!!

You really, really wish today was Saturday and not Thursday. Thursday just means you still have to get through Friday and then all of Saturday morning before your scheduled dinner with Yunho and Mingi and all the things you want to say are practically eating you up inside. But there’s a right way and a wrong way to tell someone you’ve been an idiot and you’re in love with them, and blurting it out in the middle of dance practice isn’t really going to help make this easier.

God, you hope they still want you.

On the plus side, this week has been insane. With the full crew back things are moving at a million miles per hour, and you’ve been in more meetings about what’s coming up next in the past week than the entire time you’ve worked for BB Trippin and KQ.

Your schedule for the next six months is frankly intense. Between preparing for year-end stages and working on the choreography for the newly debuting girl group, you’re juggling conversations about New World’s next comeback and the next round of touring. With the money coming in now there’s an opportunity to take more dancers, and that just means more late nights and early mornings getting everything right.

It’s after your third concept planning meeting of the week that you find two minutes to talk to Wooyoung, his bag already slung over his shoulder as he refills his water bottle.

“So, you’re going?” You ask him vaguely, trying not to tip off anyone else in the vicinity that he’s got a date.

“Yeah,” He nods, eyes flicking over your shoulder to see if San and Seonghwa are nearby, “I think I’m going to throw up,”

“No, you’re not,” You assure him.

“I might,” He whines, running a hand through his mop of long black hair, “I never know what to say to him,”

“Woo,”

“I know what to say to everyone, y/n,” He lowers his voice, panic evident in his eyes, “but every time Sangie smiles I go fucking blank,”

“Sangie?” Your eyebrow quirks, “Is that what we’re calling him now,”

“Shut up,” Wooyoung blushes.

“Wow,” You prod him softly, “you’re down so bad, it’s been like three days,”

“It’s so bad,” He grimaces, “this is embarrassing,”

“Now you see how I feel,” You smirk, “it’s kind of fun being on this end of things,”

“Please,” He rolls his eyes, “are you telling me you’re not panicking?”

“Oh, no,” You laugh, “I definitely am. It’s just nice to know I’m not alone here,”

“I was never this mean to you,”

You hold his gaze, just blinking, there’s nothing to say to that he doesn’t already know.

“Okay, fine,” He sighs, “but still, feeling like this,”

“Feeling like what?” Seonghwa’s voice shocks you both out of your quiet conversation and you both jump back from each other.

“Jesus,” You breathe, “you scared me,”

Seonghwa smiles, “Sorry,” he shrugs, “everything okay?”

“Perfect,” Wooyoung takes a step back and shakes his head, “totally good,”

Seonghwa’s brows come together in the middle, “You seem like something’s wrong, can I help?”

Wooyoung almost blanches, and you know he’s dreading telling San and Seonghwa about Yeosang, so you jump in to help. “Woo was just helping me figure out Saturday,” You cover and draw Seonghwa’s attention back to you, “you know, figuring out what to say to them,”

“Oh,” Seonghwa nods, but you can see that he doesn’t really buy it, “right,”

“Anyways,” Wooyoung starts walking backwards towards the exterior door, “I have to go, but you know, y/n, call me if you need to talk more later,”

“I will,” You nod, “I definitely will.”

Wooyoung knows that what you mean is that you want detailed date updates, and he almost looks mortified at the idea. He disappears fast, leaving you and Seonghwa relatively alone in the hallway.

“What is up with him this week?” Seonghwa asks, confusion on his face.

“He has a date,” You tell him quietly, “he’s kind of freaking out about it.”

“Oh,” Seonghwa glances towards the door where Wooyoung just disappeared, “that’s not that weird for him,”

“It is if he’s this interested after only a few days,” You say, “but don’t tease him. He’s kind of worked up about the whole thing,”

“Who’s he seeing?” Seonghwa asks.

“He should tell you that,” You beg off the gossip immediately, “just do me a favor and give him a little space to talk to you and San about it,”

“Okay,” He draws out the word, not sure exactly where you’re going.

“He’s nervous about upsetting the delicate balance,” You gesture towards him, referring to the carefully constructed relationship that is Wooyoung, San, and Seonghwa.

“He’s seeing another alpha?” Seonghwa jumps to that conclusion with ease, and you can see how he would get there.

You’re shaking your head before you can stop yourself, “It’s not that,”

That does surprise him, and Seonghwa’s eyes widen a bit, “Oh,”

“Right,” You nod, leading him to the conclusion as close as you can without spelling it out, “my point is, he’s nervous and he’s got a pretty serious crush, and he hasn’t said so but I think he’s scared you and San won’t approve.”

“I would never,” He stumbles over his words, “out of anyone, we would never judge him, he has to know that,”

“Hey,” You reach for Seonghwa, stepping a little closer so your voices stay low in the entryway as you brush your hand down his forearm, “he knows, he’s just panicking a little.”

“Should I talk to him?” Seonghwa asks, his eyes earnest.

“Not yet,” You shake your head, “he’ll figure it out, just don’t push him right now. I’ve never seen him this anxious,”

“I won’t,” He promises, “thank you for telling me,”

“Mhm,”

Seonghwa chews over your words a second and then decides to let it drop. With a sigh he refocuses on work, “Are you staying late?”

“Yeah,” You shrug, “I have some things to catch up on. You?”

“I need to track down San,” He says, “but then after that I’m probably heading out a little early,”

“Nice,” You nod, “still shaking off the jetlag?”

He nods, “Unfortunately,”

Down the hall you watch a few of the dancers gathering up their belongings, and then the door to the back office opens to reveal Yunho and Mingi, sitting close together and studying a computer screen as Jaemin leaves for the day.

“Well,” Your feet are already moving, “then I’ll see you later,”

“Sounds good,” He says, and then he gives you a knowing look, seeing exactly where you’re headed.

Before you know it, you’re moving through the people in the hall and trying desperately to come up with a reason for crashing their tete-a-tete.

“Hey,” You knock softly on the open door, “am I interrupting?”

“No, no,” Yunho smiles when he sees you and your stomach bubbles.

“We’re just watching back practice,” Mingi leans back in his chair, rubbing his tired eyes.

“Oh, nice,” You say, and your empty words do little to fill the empty space.

“Do you… need something?” Yunho tries.

“Ah, yeah, sorry,” You scramble internally for something to say, “I’m staying late, but I’m kind of starving, I just didn’t know if you still had stuff stashed?”

“Sure,” He gestures towards the cabinets on the side wall, “whatever you want, help yourself,”

“Great,” You dash towards the cabinets, and you can’t even imagine eating right now with how fluttery your insides have been, but you snag a couple of protein bars anyways.

The silence is brutal. Not like before, not like the tense and uncomfortable angry silences of the past, but it’s still sitting there between you. Part of you wants to shut the door right now and just get it all out there, but again, you know you shouldn’t.

Mingi’s warm, chocolatey scent is richer in here, evident after a hard practice of working up a sweat and being given a chance to permeate with the door closed. You feel your body naturally relaxing at it, so comforting and familiar, and then you get the first pang of Yunho’s warm, summer rain.

You can hardly believe how you convinced yourself that this wasn’t scent sympathy when right here and now it’s so obvious they belong to you. You wonder if they feel it too.

“Are you okay?” Mingi’s voice snaps you out of your sudden daydream staring at the cabinet full of snacks.

“Yeah, yes,” You shut them and step back, “I’m fine, just a little tired.”

“Not sleeping well?” Yunho says, concern all over his features.

“I’m fine,” You wave him off, “just a busy week,”

“You don’t have to stay late,” Mingi offers, “I’m sure whatever you’re working on will still be fine tomorrow,”

“I know,” You nod, “but if I don’t get it out of my system I’ll just be thinking about it all night, you know how it is,”

Mingi nods, “Still, take it easy later,”

“I will,” You promise, and you start to turn towards the door when the words just bubble up out of your throat, “you’re both still free Saturday, right?”

“Yeah,” Mingi answers for them both, “are you?”

“Definitely,” You nod, “I just wanted to make sure, I’m looking forward to it,”

“We could do tomorrow instead,” Yunho offers, “after practice?”

“As long as you don’t have other plans,” Mingi cuts in, “for a Friday night,”

“Tomorrow works,” You jump at the chance, “I’d actually love that, I just didn’t want to crowd you when you’re adjusting to the timezone again,”

“It’s fine,” Mingi brushes that thought off, “I’d rather see you,”

“Yeah,” Yunho nods, “it’ll be good to catch up,”

You smile, “I want to hear all about the trip,”

“The trip,” Mingi says, just repeating your words like he’s weighing them out on his own tongue.

Something about his voice sends a sharp zing up the back of your spine.

Your body feels a little soft, relaxing bit by bit.

Yunho’s eyes flick over you, “Are you sure you need to stay late?”

Something your primal little brain cannot handle right now is the thought of your alphas being protective, not when you’re standing in this room encased by their scents that feel a little too right. Your stomach tightens and you pray that you’re not blushing pink at the flickering thought in your mind of them taking you home.

You need to get out of this room before they realize it.

“I’m good,” You tell him, stepping backwards towards the door, “but thank you, and dinner tomorrow is perfect,”

Mingi says something, you think he’s agreeing, but you’re giving another excuse over your shoulder about how you need to get back to it so you can make it out of this room.

Your heart is practically beating out of your chest as you leave the office and make it down the hall, heading for the studio room you’ve booked for the afternoon. You nearly run into Dahan and Minseok as you cut around the corner, but you apologize quickly and barely give them a second glance as you hide yourself away in one of the dance studios alone.

With the door firmly shut you lean back against the closed door and take a deep breath. These feelings are going to work you into a frenzy if you don’t get them under control. Scent sympathy is rare, an almost perfect match between an alpha and omega that makes every part of a relationship heightened, especially once that initial sympathetic bond is fulfilled with a claim. While they were gone you came to that conclusion slowly, the steady ache in your chest so clearly informed by the lack of them, but now that they’re back and here the realization of it collides into you full-force.

You love them, that’s true. But what’s more is how much you need them, and how much you hope they need you. You can’t let them realize it before you have the chance to say everything you need to say, and if you had stayed in that room a few minutes more they might have felt themselves. With the dinner moved to Friday you just have one more night to get through. One more night, and one more day of work. And then the chips will fall where they may.

With a deep breath you let the hammering of your heart slow and then you focus back on the work ahead. The more you pour yourself into work the faster these 24 hours will go, so you put your head down and get to it.

You work for a long time, probably too long, until your muscles are positively aching and any thoughts of Yunho and Mingi are drowned out by lyrics to the chorus of this song that just keeps looping in your mind as you try different patterns of footwork. Here in this bubble you don’t know who’s still at work, who’s left for the day, what time it is, or if the sun has set yet. You just know your own body and every which way that it moves to this one singular song.

Your hair is hot around your face, sweat clinging to your brow as you finish out the latter half of the choreography that you’re confident with. It’s fast, and includes so much up and down floor work you’re pretty sure you’d be passing out if you weren’t hydrating properly. Focused on your reflection in the mirror you gather your hair up and away and into a knot and then move to find your towel and water bottle.

The door to the studio opens behind you, and you glance back without really seeing who’s popping in, “Hey,”

For a split second it occurs to you that it might be Yunho or Mingi and your stomach flips as you start to turn.

“Hey, y/n,” Minseok’s voice is a bit of a surprise.

“Oh, hey,”

He looks like he’s just stopping by to grab something from the far desk in the corner. You’re honestly surprised that he’s still here, he had looked on his way out earlier when you bumped into him in the hall.

“Are you heading out for the night?” You take a drink of water and catch your breath, leaning against the mirrored wall behind you.

“Soon,” He nods, running a hand through his dark hair and snagging a sweatshirt hanging over the back of the office chair.

“Well,” You smile, “have a good night,”

“You too,” He says as he walks past you, but then his steps slow and you hear him sigh before he turns on his heel, “listen, can I ask you something?”

“Sure,”

“I hope you don’t think this is weird,” He takes a few more steps back towards you, “but I’ve actually been meaning to ask you something for a while now,”

“Oh,” Your eyebrows raise, and suddenly you can see everything in his expression. You know this look. You know the way men get when they finally rip off the bandage and change the equilibrium of a room, the moment they decide they can’t see you as just a friend. What absolutely terrible timing he has.

“I was thinking,” He says, a little pause before the rest and you hope you’re keeping your face nice and neutral, “do you think I could take you out some time?”

“Out?” The word leaves you.

He smiles, “Yeah, out, like a date.”

“I appreciate that,” You shake your head a little, trying to smile and keep things light, “but I don’t think so,”

His lip quirks and his nose scrunches and you suppose that if you were interested you might find this part of him charming, but you’re not, so it isn’t. “Are you seeing someone?” He asks.

“No,” You tell him honestly, “not right now.”

“So, I can’t get you to give me one chance?” He takes a step forwards, gesturing between you both and keeping his gaze hopeful.

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” You shake your head, “we work together.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” He assures you, brushing past the boundary you tried to set with casual indifference, “don’t worry about that.”

“Still,” You shake your head, “but thank you for asking.”

You’re not at all thankful for him asking, but he’s nice enough, and it feels like the polite way to keep the status quo.

“That’s a shame,” He admits, his smile dropping almost entirely, “are you sure I can’t convince you to give me just one chance? I really do like you, y/n,”

“I’m sure,” That should be firm enough.

“I thought we were getting along well,” He cuts off the end of your words, “becoming friends.”

“I thought so too,” You straighten up off the wall behind you, tossing your towel over your shoulder and setting up to walk right out of the studio room if that’s what it would take to end this interaction, “I thought we were friends,”

You can’t help but emphasize the word friends, and you watch the moment his expression drops more, annoyance flicking through his jaw.

“I didn’t think you had such a problem seeing people you worked with,” He says pointedly.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s just that,” He shrugs, nodding towards you, “I didn’t think it bothered you. Considering.”

“Listen,” You lock eyes with him, “let it go. I’m trying to be nice about this, but I can be clearer. I am not interested in going out with you.”

“You don’t have to be rude,”

“Goodnight, Minseok,” You’re not staying for this.

“I’m a good guy,” He says as you start towards the door, “don’t, come on just stay a second,”

You keep walking.

“y/n,” He says, his voice startlingly close behind you, “stay.”

It’s like your legs stop working, an echoing strike of nerves down your spine and you stumble slightly as his hand closes around your wrist.

“Let go of me.” You start to turn towards him, pulling your arm back as you do, but he speaks again.

“Stop.” His voice is so low suddenly, situated smack in the center of his chest, a tenor you’ve never heard from him before. Your legs stop working all together, suddenly feeling like lead.

“Take your hands off me.” You blink hard, your head feeling a little full suddenly.

“I just don’t understand,” He bites, “we’ve been flirting for weeks.”

You can’t find the words to tell him that you being nice isn't flirting, but you’re stunned into silence. You can barely even think of a time when you had a sustained conversation with him where someone else wasn’t present. How could interactions that felt so routine to you feel so significant for him?

“And you’re just… not interested?” He scoffs, “You’re what, twenty-six? Twenty-seven? You’re going to start running out of good offers.”

So many things about Seo Minseok fall into place with just those words. The way that just a few weeks ago he barely looked at you, barely spoke to you. Always spending his attention on the alphas in the room around you, but never you. How when that tide shifted you thought, maybe naively, that he was just shy. But he’s not shy, not in the least. He’s just another alpha in a long line of alphas who look down their noses at omegas until there’s something they want from them.

“That’s really none of your concern,” You shake your head, “now get the fuck off me.”

“Be quiet.” His jaw sets hard.

So does yours.

A thousand thoughts run through your brain like a wildfire eating up a hillside of dry bark but nothing can make it past your lips. The tone of his voice has you rooted to the spot, his instructions not suggestions but strict commands. It’s been a long time since you’ve heard an alpha use tone, but it’s certainly the first time it’s been directed at you. You’ve heard stories, the way the primal omega brain surfaces even when you don’t want it to. You thought it was a bit of an overstatement, but now on the receiving end you can’t control your response to him and fear floods you.

“You talk a lot for an unmated omega,” He looks disappointed.

Something shrinks inside you.

His fingers tighten, his body suddenly closer, “But we can fix that.”

In a breath his hands push you backwards, your back suddenly cold against the mirrored wall of the practice room. Later, much later, you’ll discover that the reason your memory of this moment is patchy is a combination of your omega’s response to alpha tone and full dissociation. You’ll remember little pieces, quick sensations here and there. The same song still looping through the stereo, the sound of his deep inhale with his face pressed against your throat, the sharp pin pricks of his teeth as he seeks out the soft juncture of your neck and shoulder. The way your mind in one heaving breath both screams in rebellion and folds open in acceptance when he successfully locates your gland.

You suddenly can’t hear right, can’t think right. All you know is his teeth. The hot feeling of breath. He smells like burnt, bitter oranges. He’s talking again, saying something that your conscious mind can’t register, but your omega does, and you stretch your neck long to give him the access he needs.

And then you’re under.

You’re dropping before you consciously register your brain entering a new, hazy middle space. It feels like being at the bottom of a deep pool, the sudden, immersive quiet. You understand that someone is talking to you, or around you, but all you can hear is the echoing tenor of an alpha, the words unclear, all cocooned in the water around you.

There’s a bang somewhere but it feels far away, and you feel pin pricks against your throat.

Minseok’s overwhelming acrid scent and heavy pressure against you is gone, the sudden loss of his weight leaving you off balance. You think you’re falling, or maybe you’ve already fallen. The world feels tilted, something hard and cold under your back. You smell something sharp and tangy, and there’s something loud in the room but you can’t understand it. Everything is white, bright and intrusive.

Mingi’s face swims into your vision, and you feel his hands on your cheeks. It takes you a minute to understand anything, but he looks upset, stricken and his cheeks are tinged pink with panicked anger. You want to reach up, soothe his brow and see what’s wrong, but you can’t lift your hand. Don’t move an inch.

“Jesus,” Mingi glances to his side, “he put her in subspace,”

Someone responds, but it’s muffled to your ears.

Mingi’s face darkens entirely, his hands leave you, “I’ll fucking kill him,”

He’s gone. There’s a scuffle to your side, but you can’t turn your head, you want to, you just can’t. Tears bubble in your eyes, emotion pulsing through you and your breath is tight and thready in your throat. A sharp, whining sob bubbles from your lips.

Warm rain swims through you, and Yunho’s there, sliding right into the spot Mingi left. His eyes dart over your face and then he looks to his side, his voice firm, “Calm down or get out of here, do you understand me? You’re scaring her,”

There’s a long beat, noises to your side again but you can’t understand it. Your stomach flips nervously, the place you’re stuck in your head throbbing a sharp spike through your brain.

Yunho’s warm, brown eyes settle back on yours, his face calm and easy, “Can you hear me, y/n?”

You can, but you can’t make your mouth work. Don’t move an inch.

“Can you hear me? y/n?” He asks again, his thumb brushing your cheek, “You’re safe, he’s not going to touch you again,”

The hard feeling of Minseok’s hands on your hips pushing you into the practice room mirror snaps inside you and you release a soft sound.

“You can hear me,” Yunho nods, “come on, wake up,”

“Yunho,” Mingi’s voice is close again, hard and steady, “that’s not going to work,”

“Why?” Yunho looks up to his friend, “she can hear me, she’s okay,”

“She’s in subspace,” Mingi pushes his friend to the side, coming into your eye line, “she’s dropped so far under it’s going to take more than that,”

“W-what do we do?” Yunho’s voice is shaky.

“Let me try something,” Mingi murmurs, and then his eyes lock squarely on yours.

Yunho slips his hand into yours, holding you tightly, but you can’t squeeze him back.

“Omega,” Mingi’s voice is firm, and it’s the clearest thing you’ve heard since sinking under the water, “Come up now.”

Don’t move an inch.

“You need to come up now,” His fingers tighten on your cheek, “listen to me.”

Don’t move an inch.

“Why isn’t this working?” Yunho asks, squeezing your fingers.

“I’m not sure,” Mingi’s voice is low, and then he shifts closer to your face, “y/n. Omega. Listen to me now,”

All you can do is manage to make a quiet, tight noise, and even to your muddled brain you can hear the tenor of distress.

“Come up now,” Mingi repeats, “right now. Listen to me, omega.”

You’re being torn in two, your primal brain fighting you every step of the way.

He swallows hard, his voice dropping low in his chest, “Don’t disobey your alpha,”

Suddenly nothing but his voice exists.

Mingi’s expression is cold, tight and ruthless, his rich tone cuts straight to your core, “When you’re given a directive, you follow it. Now,” He locks his hands on either side of your face and his next words are a pointed and perfectly clear command, “Come. Up.”

The room is so much louder than you thought a moment ago. There’s shouting outside and you vaguely register San’s voice amongst the mix. The music from practice is still on low. Yunho’s leg is bouncing nervously, the athletic fabric making a rhythmic swish with every bob of his knee. You can hear your blood rushing in your ears.

“I’m sorry,” You choke out, the first feeling that floods back into your body is intense shame.

“Oh my god,” Mingi’s expression crumbles and he pulls your limp body into his arms “you’re here? You’re with us?”

“M-Mingi,” Your vision clouds with tears again and every feeling that tried to course through your body while you were in subdrop crashes into you sideways.

“Shh,” He rocks you in his arms, “we’ve got you, we’re right here, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,”

A dull throb radiates through your skull and Yunho takes a sharp inhale, “She’s bleeding,”

“What?” Mingi pulls back, his hand searching your body.

“Here,” Yunho brushes the back of your hair, his fingers coming away with a small line of blood, “it’s not too bad,”

“What happened?” You reach for the cut at the back of your head, nervous tears coming up as you try to understand.

“You don’t remember?” Yunho asks.

“I’m,” You swallow hard, “it was practice? Or I was practicing? I had the room booked.”

“Yeah,” Yunho nods and squeezes your hand, “what else?”

The date. The hard set of Minseok’s jaw when you said no. His hands on your hips, his lips on your neck, the soft drag of his teeth and the flat of his tongue over your gland. Your shirt tearing when he hauled you up against the mirrors. Hands everywhere. Hands nowhere. The white ceiling. His voice, harsh and direct in your ears, the alpha tone unmistakable. Submit. Heel. Don’t move an inch.

Your mouth is suddenly hot and watery, and your hands are shaking, “I’m… I’m going to be sick,”

“Shit,” Yunho moves fast, sliding across the floor to grab the wastebasket that sits under the desk, pushing it into your hands.

You wretch instantly, shaking and heaving, losing the contents of your stomach into the plastic bin.

“Okay,” Mingi soothes, gathering up your hair into one hand and holding it away from your face, “you’re okay,”

“He touched me,” Your hands won’t stop shaking, his voice flooding back, and you heave again, “the things he said,”

“Shh,” Yunho shifts closer, rubbing a hand up and down your back, “you’re safe. None of that is true,”

“He talked to me like a dog,” You sob, “and I couldn’t move, he told me not to move and I just let him,”

“No.” Mingi’s voice is harsh and you twitch under his hands, “He used alpha tone on you, he wanted you to stop fighting and he said it in tone until you couldn’t hear anything else. You didn’t let him do anything,”

“I’ve never,” You wretch again, a dry heave with nothing to give and it makes your eyes watery.

“We’re right here,” Yunho murmurs, “you’re safe.”

When you’re sure your stomach will hold, you push the wastebasket away and drop back to the floor, your head throbbing, “I’ve never been in subspace,”

“You’re not there now,” Mingi soothes.

“I don’t remember,” You manage, looking down at your mussed clothes, “it’s so muddled I can’t remember,”

“What can’t you remember?” Yunho asks softly.

You’re pretty sure you’d register it if his attempt at claiming had been successful, if the word attempt should even be in consideration at all, but the end is so fuzzy you just have to know. “Did he… did we?”

“No.” Yunho’s firm, sliding in front of you so he can make you look into his eyes, “absolutely not,”

Your mouth tastes terrible, but it’s the overwhelming bitter smell of him on you that doubles it and makes you want to throw up again even though your stomach is empty.

“All I can smell is him,” You scrub your hands under your eyes to wipe away tears, “I can’t even breathe,”

“Take her,” Mingi says, “I’m getting water,”

Yunho pulls you into his arms, sitting back against the mirrored wall for some support and cradling you to his chest, “Come here, is this okay?”

“Make it go away,” You hold onto his shirt and sigh into his neck, “please, Yunho, please,”

“Just breathe,” He soothes you, “I have you,”

He smooths his thumbs over the glands in your wrists, easing the initial panic inside you, and then gently draws your head back with his hand, “It’s only me,” He murmurs, “you know I’d never hurt you,”

Yunho licks a long stripe up your neck, and instantly your body starts to release, tense muscles unlocking and your fingers falling slack. His scent washes over you, enveloping you tenderly.

“Y-Yunho,” you shudder as he licks another long stripe, moving to suck softly on the fleshy part of your neck that narrowly avoided teeth marks.

“Yes?” He kisses your neck softly, and licks again.

“Thank you for coming for me,” You exhale slowly.

He stills, sinking closer and resting his closed lips on your shoulder. When he breathes in you hear the catch of emotion, “I thought we were too late,”

“I’m okay,” You murmur, and it’s starting to feel true now that he’s washing away Minseok’s scent.

“God,” He sighs into your skin, “when I heard you scream… I’ve never heard anything that terrifying in my life, I’ve never run so fast,”

“Did I scream?” You don’t remember it.

“Bloody murder,” He nods, pulling back to look at your eyes.

“Yunho,” Your eyes flick up towards the open door of the practice studio, “where is he?”

His hands tighten on you, “Probably nursing his broken ribs. The guys have him,”

Your eyes widen, and the realization that he’s still under the same roof has you trembling in his arms, “He’s still here,”

“Not for long,” He murmurs, “we called the police,”

“But,” Your mind is spinning and you feel the weight of him on your chest once more, “what if he comes back?”

“y/n,” Yunho draws your eyes away from the door, “San and Seonghwa have him, and he’s in rough shape. He’s probably focused on trying to breathe, not thinking about you anymore. And even if none of that were true and he did come back,” he says, “I’d put him on the floor faster than you could blink. Mingi and I both would.”

Your muscles start to relax again, “Okay,”

“You are completely safe,”

Mingi reappears a few moments later, bottles of water in hand, and he smiles warmly, “Hey, you,”

“Hey,”

“Feeling a little better?” He asks, settling on the hard practice room floor and passing you an open bottle.

“I don’t know,” You murmur honestly, shifting in Yunho’s arms so that you’re resting on his lap with your back against his chest. You take a long drink of water and sigh.

“Listen,” Mingi smooths a hand across your thigh, “the police are going to want to talk to you. They’ll be here within the hour and then we’ll go to the hospital.”

“Why?” You tense.

“Your head,” He nods.

“It’s stopped bleeding,” Yunho assures you, “but he’s right, you could have a concussion.”

“I don’t have a concussion,”

“I didn’t realize you had a medical degree,” Mingi says, a little edge to his voice.

Hot tears well in your eyes at his tone, and you shrink back into Yunho’s arms. You know rationally he didn’t mean to scare you, he’s just worried about you, but after the day you’ve had you can’t help but shrink back in fear.

“Hey,” Yunho presses his lips to your neck, “it’s alright, Mingi didn’t mean it like that”

Mingi’s eyes blow wide, “Fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything,”

“I know,” You tip your head to the side to offer more of your throat to Yunho’s soothing touches, “I’m just not myself,”

“It’s okay,” Yunho says again, returning to your neck and peppering kisses across your gland, and something about this should feel intimate and awkward when you haven’t talked to them yet, but all you can feel is safe.

“Really,” Mingi reaches for you, but doesn’t touch you, “I just want you to let us help, and I’m so angry with Minseok I could kill him, but I didn’t mean to put that on you,”

“Mingi,” You take his outstretched hand, “I’m okay, you just startled me, and you’re right anyways. I’ll come to the hospital,”

He sighs in relief.

“After,” Yunho murmurs, “would you - I mean, will you please come home with us tonight?”

It’s strange how much you feel like it is home, despite only spending your heat there, months ago, so long ago now you shouldn’t still feel this preternatural pull.

“I don’t know,” You say, even though your body is begging you to agree, to stay with them and only them.

“I know it’s been different between us,” He murmurs, arms tightening around you, “but you know how I feel. I just don’t want you to be alone tonight, someone should be with you,”

“Someone you feel safe with,” Mingi adds, “if that’s us,”

“It is,” You lock your hand down on Mingi’s, “I’m sorry, this is… of course you’re safe, of course you are. I’m just,”

“Let’s talk about this later,” Mingi smiles, shooting a look at Yunho you can’t quite make sense of, but brushing your fears to the side all the same, “for now, let’s just get you taken care of.”

You shudder out a breath, letting the warmth and safety of their bodies sink into you. You turn into Yunho, resting your cheek on his chest and matching your breath in time to his. Your thoughts spin, bubbling over as threads of the incident come back to your mind and you press your eyes closed before the question slips out, “Why did he do it?”

Yunho wraps his arms around you a little tighter, dropping his lips to your hair, “I don’t know,”

Mingi clears his throat, “He’s about to hit his rut,” he says, “that’s what his excuse was. He said he’s… he kept saying how sorry he was, but,”

Your eyes snap open, “Sorry? He’s sorry?”

“Sorry someone interrupted him, maybe,” Mingi’s voice is hard, his eyes firm and unrelenting, “a rut doesn’t make you do that. Not like that.”

Yunho shakes his head in agreement, “Definitely not,”

You know that, of course you know it, but after seeing Minseok’s black eyes you’re not so sure. You had never felt completely comfortable with him, but in the past you would have chalked that up to personality differences, and in the past few weeks that had all started to change. He was the kind of guy you wouldn’t date, but you wouldn’t worry about bothering you.

You sigh softly, “He didn’t seem like himself,”

“Mm,” Mingi hums, non-committal.

“A rut doesn’t make it impossible to hear the word no,” Yunho says firmly, “you don’t become some mindless animal. What he tried to do… that’s… a rut’s an easy excuse.”

You tense up in his arms, a brief flicker of what could have been. His teeth in your neck, your mind spinning into submission.

“Yunho,” Mingi shakes his head at his best friend, glancing down at you to indicate that it’s not something you can hear right now.

“I’m sorry,” Yunho soothes, holding you closer if it’s at all possible.

Your chest tightens, “Can I… I need to get up,”

His arms relax immediately, hands shifting under your elbows to help support you while Mingi jumps up and offers you his hands to pull you up. Back on your own two feet you waver a minute, but you shake off the dizzy spell and try to get your bearings again. They're waiting on a razor’s edge, hands out and ready to intervene, but you’ve made it clear that for the moment you don’t want to be touched.

A shout from the hall leaves you jumping, but you register Wooyoung’s voice a moment later, “Where is she?”

“The studio,” San’s voice replies, “slow down,”

“Is he in the back office? Give me a fucking minute alone with him,” Wooyoung’s voice is murderous and you smile at how ready your best friend sounds to do battle on your behalf, “I’ll show him what an omega can fucking do,”

“Youngie,” San’s voice is even and warm, keeping things soft, “you need to calm down,”

“Calm down,” He scoffs, his voice getting closer as he travels down the hall and you know he’s almost at the door.

“I hardly think y/n needs,” San starts to say, but then they round the corner.

Wooyoung’s eyes are wild, searching and terrified, and something inside you shatters. San’s words die on his lips when he sees you, and in a startling moment of clarity you rush forwards and into Wooyoung’s arms.

“Shh, shh,” He wraps you up tight, one hand at the back of your head as he rocks you back and forth, “you’re safe, you’re in one piece,”

“Woo,” Tears come fast, and you bury your face in his chest.

“Stupid fucking alphas,” He curses into your shoulder and you can hear his breath hitched and clouded with tears of his own, “acting like they can take whatever they want,”

You’re sure the rest of the room is bristling at that comment but you couldn’t care less.

“You want me to break the rest of his ribs?” He kisses your head, “I’ll make it look like a fucking accident, I swear to God,”

“Woo,” You laugh into his chest, vision blurry with unshed tears, “stop, that’s insane,”

“I am nothing if not a little insane,” Wooyoung squeezes you, “and you and me? We protect each other, right?”

“Always,” You grip the back of his shirt like a lifeline.

The bond between omegas can’t be understood by a single other person in the room, maybe even in the building. You cling to each other in the middle of the studio floor, encased in this moment of shared grief. Of what you are and what that means. He shifts you in his arms so he can look at your face, cupping your tear stained cheeks.

The sight of his own tears makes yours come faster, “What did I do?”

His expression hardens and he shakes his head, sucking in a harsh breath, “Nothing, not a single fucking thing. Do you hear me?”

“Woo,” You want him to let you go. You want him to tug you close again.

He shakes your shoulders hard, and in your periphery you see Mingi take a half step forward as Wooyoung pushes back on your words, “You didn’t do anything. You’re existing, and he tried to take advantage of that. This isn’t your fault, there’s nothing you could have or should have done.”

You open your mouth to say something but he plows forward.

“Alphas take, alright?” He shakes you again, more gently this time, “We’re lucky. You and me, we found good ones, but alphas are programmed to take, and we’re programmed to give. He used it against you. Nothing else.”

Your breath hitches, and you launch yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting him cradle you again.

“Shh, shh,” He rubs your back, soothing you again.

“I hate this,” You manage, your face buried in his shoulder.

“I know,” He eases you, “I fucking hate it too,”

You hold each other a little longer until both of your tears start to subside. You stay steady in his grip, his fresh salt and cotton scent lulling you into safety. The buzzing of your brain starts to release, and the fear is still there under your skin but at least for now it’s low and letting you breathe.

Nuzzling into his shoulder you sigh, “What are you doing back here anyways?”

“San called,” He kisses your hair, “I broke several laws getting here,”

You laugh against his collarbone where his oversized t-shirt is pulled down, no doubt from the way your hands grip whatever part of him you can.

He rubs a warm hand up and down your back and when he speaks again it’s not to you, this time he addresses the alphas in the room. He clears his throat softly, head lifting up and away from yours, “So, who busted his nose?”

“Uh,” Yunho makes a small sound behind you, “that would be me,”

“Good,” Wooyoung says, “when she stops crying I’m giving you a handshake,”

You smile against his damp skin and shake your head, “I’m not crying, I’m fine,”

“Sure,” Wooyoung murmurs, but he doesn’t let you go, just strokes your back more until you settle further into him.

“The police will be here soon,” San murmurs, his voice staying relaxed and steady to make sure everything stays level in the room.

“Right,” Wooyoung sighs, “y/n, can I let you go? I don't have to if you’re not ready,”

You nod immediately though, unwinding your arms from him and taking a ginger step back. He gives you a soft smile, and you scrub the last of the tears from your face with the sleeves of your sweatshirt. He gives you a minute to stand steady and then turns to Yunho and Mingi who both look frozen and unsure of what to do or what to say.

“You both got him off her?” He says, matter of fact.

“Yeah,” Mingi’s voice is tight, like he had been choking back tears of his own, and Yunho simply nods.

“Thank you,” Wooyoung tugs Mingi into a hug and squeezes him tight before shifting to Yunho to hug him too, “seriously,”

Once they break apart, you’re left all in a haphazard circle, and you can feel all the eyes on you. It makes you so tired, dizzy, ready to be done and just crawl under a blanket for the rest of the week. In the back of your throat you still taste bitter orange.

“Um,” Your voice comes out a little more scratchy than you want, and you clear your throat, letting everything fade.

“What is it?” Yunho asks gently.

You don’t know how to ask this, how to beg them to keep holding you together so you can just get through existing in this room. You sigh, the deep exhale making you dizzy again, and step towards him, “C-can I,”

He opens his arms immediately, letting you close the space so he doesn’t assume your needs, but as you collide with him again he responds perfectly, scooping you up into his arms and letting you wrap your legs around his waist. He supports you with ease, an arm under your thighs and another situated high on your back.

“Better?” He murmurs, smiling a little as you bury your head in his neck.

You nod into his neck, and then you allow yourself one tiny moment of weakness, listening to your body and what it needs for once over your anxiety. You mumble it into his neck, but he hears you when you say, “Yunho?”

“Yeah, baby?” His voice is so soft, quiet like he’s afraid of what you might say.

You don’t miss the way Wooyoung’s eyebrows go high at the endearment, but you ignore him and focus instead on the man holding you up, together, in one solid piece. You lift your head so he hears you clearly, “Will you please take me home?”

He goes still and turns his head just a little, “Your apartment or,”

“Take me home with you,” You repeat, “I want to go home,”

This will surely just make everything more muddled and foggy between the three of you tomorrow in the cold light of day, but you don’t care. Right now you just want to be home, in whatever form that means.

He exhales low and shaky, “Alright,” he murmurs, kissing your throat softly to help calm your trembling, “I’ve got you, let’s go home,”

A warm wide palm rests on the center of your back, and Mingi leans in close to catch your eyes, “y/n, can you look at me a second?”

You pull your head up from the crook of Yunho’s neck where you’ve just been taking deep steady inhales of wet earth and meet his eyes.

“Hey,” He smiles.

Your eyes dart between him and Wooyoung, who seems suddenly ancy. “What?” You straighten up a little more in Yunho’s arms.

“You can go wherever you want,” He starts off, “but do you want us to take you home, or would you feel more comfortable with Wooyoung? Or… Seonghwa, if… if that would be better for how you’re feeling,”

Yunho tenses a little, his fingers tightening where he holds you, and you can feel him physically holding himself back from saying a single word, from begging you to come with them.

You’ve made up your mind though, and within a second you’re shaking your head, “No, I want you,”

Yunho relaxes, his lips returning to your throat and you sigh.

“Then you have us,” Mingi assures you.

The sound of the elevators in the hall stop you all cold though, and San holds up his hands, “I’ll go see, it’s probably the police,”

The idea of talking to them suddenly makes you sick, and you’re sure it shows all over your face.

“It’s going to be fine,” Wooyoung jumps back in, “don’t worry, we’ll be there the whole time.”

You need this to be done. You grip down on Yunho’s shoulders, “I want to go home,”

“I know,” Mingi nods.

“Y-Yunho,” You’re scrambling a little in his arms, sudden panic swirling in your gut, and you twist to find his eyes, “please, get me out of here, please take me home,”

You feel it the minute he chooses you over anything else, “Okay, alright,”

“You need to talk to the cops,” Wooyoung shakes his head, trying to reason with you.

You’re trembling in Yunho’s arms and he shakes his head, “She needs to go,”

Mingi senses your heightened emotions too and you feel it when he moves closer, both of them shifting to protect you, “She can do this later,”

“I don’t know that that’s such a good idea,” Wooyoung insists.

“I couldn’t give a fuck,” Yunho grips you tighter, “we’re taking our girl home,”

“Your-” Wooyoung scoffs when he hears the words, “fucking alphas,”

“Who she wants to take her home,” Mingi points out, a distinct edge to his voice.

“Stop arguing,” You beg them, hanging onto Yunho’s shoulders, “please, please,”

“Fuck,” Yunho relaxes, stroking your back, “I’m sorry, of course we won’t, I’m sorry,”

Mingi brushes his hand over the back of your head and Wooyoung gives you an apologetic face, his defensiveness over you is understandable, but he also knows how you feel about these men and you watch him choose to hold his tongue.

A knock on the door brings you all back to the present, San handling the situation with more grace than any of you combined, “The police said that they can speak with you at the hospital and make it brief.”

You exhale heavily and nod against Yunho, “Okay, fine,”

“Are you sure?” Mingi strokes your cheek.

“I just want to be done,”

“Should we stay with you?” Yunho murmurs.

“Please,” You grip his shoulders.

“Alright,” He sighs, “Woo, could you… I’m sorry, can you grab her things? Let’s just try to make this quick for her,”

Wooyoung clears his throat, his eyes never leaving yours, “Yeah, I got it,”

“Uh,” San interrupts as you all try to gather your things, “Yunho, they want to talk to you first, they’re waiting in the back office,”

“Oh,”

“They have some questions,” San explains quietly, “but she she doesn’t need to be there for that,”

“Right,” Yunho nods and then presses a kiss to your hair, “can I put you down, sweetheart?”

Your chest warms.

“No, here,” Mingi cuts in, his hand sweeping over your back and you feel them shift you from Yunho’s arms to his, “come here,”

He settles you against his chest and you wrap around him just the same, soaking in the warm scent of cocoa and cinnamon. You let your eyes drift shut as you rest on his shoulder, “Hey, Mingi,”

“Hey,” He says softly.

“Thank you,” You sigh.

“Mhm,” He rocks you a little as he takes your bags from Wooyoung and slings them over his shoulder, the combined weight of it and you not fazing him at all, “I told you once I’ll always be here, I meant it,”

“I believe you,” You murmur into his throat.

You rest here, Mingi’s thumb rubbing a comforting line over the back of your neck.

“Time to go,” Wooyoung’s voice pipes back in, “there’s a car ready, Yunho will be there in a a few minutes,”

“Alright,” Mingi presses a soft kiss to your hair, “here we go,”

He carries you with ease, and you sink into the steady thump of his heart under your palm that’s keeping you grounded. Over his shoulder you watch Wooyoung walking with you and you see police officers down the hall. The door to the back office swings open and Yunho is leaning against the desk as he speaks with an officer. Seonghwa sits in a chair next to him, his head in his hands, blood coating his knuckles and the sleeves of his shirt. Something pulls in your gut, begging you to go to him, but then you’re outside and all you can feel is Mingi holding you as he ferries you into the car.

“Do you need anything?” He asks as he settles you into the passenger seat

“I don’t know,” You tell him honestly, letting your head drop back against the seat and taking a deep breath, eyes slipping closed.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Wooyoung jumps forward, “keep your eyes open,”

“I’m fine,” You tell him, but you still do what he asks.

“Just in case,” Wooyoung presses, “you shouldn’t fuck with head injuries,”

“He’s right,” Mingi murmurs, crouching next to you just outside the car, “and I’m sure you’re fine, but let’s just be sure, okay?”

“Okay,”

A noise just past the two of them makes you jump.

“It’s just Sannie,” Wooyoung assures you.

You nod and Mingi takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers together.

“Yunho’s almost done,” San announces, but he hurries to the car and leans in to check you, “doing okay?”

“Yeah,”

“Can you do something for me?” He cups your cheek to bring your eyes up to his.

“Mhm,” You nod again.

“I need you to just focus on us for a minute,” He moves to crouch next to Mingi, and then Wooyoung steps closer too, blocking out some of your peripheral vision.

“Why?” You fight the urge to turn around.

Red and blue lights flash in the car mirrors and you reflexively glance up at the rear view mirror, catching sight of an ambulance, and tension fills your stomach.

San reaches up and catches your face again, “Hey, look at me,”

You pull your eyes away, “Are they here for him?”

“Yes,” San nods.

“Is he badly hurt?” Your mouth feels dry.

There’s a pause and then Wooyoung sighs, “Don’t lie to her,”

Mingi clears his throat softly, “He’s pretty busted up,”

“Good,” You breathe.

San smiles, taking your other hand in his and smoothing his thumb over your knuckles. The sound of the doors catches your attention again, and you resist the urge to turn around once again. San shakes his head a little, “Just keep looking at us,”

“He really picked the wrong person to fuck with,” Wooyoung says, his hand resting warmly on your shoulder.

An image of Seonghwa and his bloody knuckles flashes through your mind and your breath quickens, “Is Hwa okay?”

Mingi’s brows draw together.

“He’s fine,” San assures you immediately.

“I saw blood,” You can’t articulate it exactly, the image is just static in your mind.

“It’s not his blood,” San promises, “we’re all fine, Seonghwa is fine,”

The sound of the ambulance doors swinging shut makes you jump.

“Shh,” Mingi squeezes your hand, “you’re safe, you’re with me,”

Everything in your body feels tense and stretched thin, but Mingi’s hand is solid in yours and you grip down on it, letting it tether you.

You listen as the ambulance pulls away, your muscles unclenching one by one as the sound of the vehicle fades.

“Woo,” You manage, “can you check on Hwa for me? And text me?”

“Yeah,” He assures you, “I got you,”

“Take a deep breath,” Mingi instructs you, “please, for me,”

You take a long inhale and meet his eyes and he nods as you let the breath out low and slow through your nose.

“Again, please,” He nods.

You breathe again, the same steady pace, “I’m tired,”

“It’s the adrenaline wearing off,” Mingi tells you, “but as soon as a doctor says you can sleep, you can rest,”

“Okay,” You nod.

San’s hand disconnects from yours and he starts to stand, “Yunho’s done,”

You twist in your seat to see him, Wooyoung stepping out of the way, and you can see Yunho jogging towards the car, “Everything okay?”

“Mhm,” Mingi keeps himself calm for you.

“That took forever,” He says, “I’m sorry,”

“It didn’t,” You shake your head, “don’t be sorry,”

“You should go,” Wooyoung interrupts, “get her looked at,”

You find your best friend’s eyes, “You’ll text me?”

“Of course I will,” He nods, “but right now just focus on yourself. We’re all okay,”

You nod, and your eyes feel heavy again already. You know they’ll be trying to keep you awake in the car at this rate.

“Let’s go,” Mingi nods, “can I have my hand back for a minute?” He smiles at you.

“Sorry,” You drop his hand, almost embarrassed at the way you’re clinging to him.

“Go,” San ushers Yunho towards the driver’s side, “if you need anything, we’re here,”

Before you know it everyone’s moving and your car door is shut. Yunho slides into the driver’s seat to your left and Mingi moves into the backseat behind you.

You meet Wooyoung’s eyes through the window and he rests a hand over his chest. He mouths a simple message - I love you, okay?

You nod and the car starts to move, but you know he knows you love him too.

Mingi shifts forwards in his seat as Yunho starts to drive, and his long arm reaches around to find your hand again. He laces your fingers together once and this time he doesn’t let go.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Later that night, the warm, rich scent of their apartment almost takes you out at the knees when you finally cross the threshold, so overwhelmingly comforting and enveloping that you want nothing more than to bury yourself inside the feeling for days. Mingi nearly runs into your back when you stop short in the entryway and Yunho’s watching you carefully as he hangs up your jackets.

“What?” Mingi nudges you gently.

There’s a million things to say. Things left unsaid after your last conversation, that fight you wish you could forget. The letter. All the things you were planning on confessing Saturday. The way you want so badly to erase today and just be with them. Every ounce of their soothing physicality after Minseok brings all your emotions up tenfold. Their tenderness almost chokes you. All the things you want to say are stuck in your throat. You need to get your head on straight. You need sleep.

“Hey,” Yunho waves a hand in front of your dazed expression, “are you alright?”

Not really. The hospital was long and awkward, seeing a glimpse of Minseok’s name on a hospital room door even worse, and the police had so many questions that all sounded fairly judgemental. Not to mention the probing questions from the hospital staff about your cycle and if you’re close to pre-heat. As if that matters at all. You settle for something a little less dire though, “I’m fine, sorry, it’s just been a while,”

Yunho’s ears darken to a deep shade of pink and he nods.

“You can sleep in my room,” Mingi offers, “like before. We can stay or not stay, it’s up to you.”

“I’d like to be alone,” You tell them, “if that’s alright,”

“Of course,” Mingi smooths a hand down your arm, “whatever you want.”

“Um,” You sigh heavily, “honestly I’m exhausted. I think I might just shower and sleep as long as you don’t mind,”

Yunho shakes his head, gesturing towards the hall, “Not at all, just… call if you need anything,”

You start back towards the bathroom, your eyes down and away from them, but Mingi calls out, “You remember where everything is?”

There’s no way you could forget, and you call back that you’re fine. You got it. You just need to be alone, alone is good, alone feels safe.

In the shower you scrub your skin raw, spending extra time and attention on your glands even though it makes your skin there puffy and red, pinpricks of blood at the surface of your skin and lilac bruises surrounding every edge. It doesn’t matter how comforting their scents are, nothing is taking away the deep intent of Minseok’s mouth on your neck - and the bitter, burnt citrus smell takes ages to wash away. By the time you finish, you’re about ready to collapse.

Mingi leaves you clothes again, folded neatly on his bed and ready for you. They’re nowhere to be seen, taking your plea for time alone seriously. He’s laid out a clean pair of sleep pants and a t-shirt, both fresh from the wash. The hoodie you had stolen during your heat lies next to it, and it’s a kind gesture, but suddenly you don’t want it. You want nothing.

You toss the hoodie to the side and start to climb into the bed, but that smells so heavily of cinnamon spice that you can’t think straight. You had just gotten used to blissfully smelling nothing after your shower, and so you strip the bed entirely, discarding all of the pillows and blankets and sheets into the farthest corner of the room.

The mattress is bare now, but once you turn the circulating fan off you fix the issue of the cold and his scent washing over you every time you try to close your eyes. You can still sense him, sense them, somewhere in the background, but here on the stripped bed in sterilized clothes with your skin rubbed raw, you can rest.

You drift into sleep this way, your head clear.

It doesn’t stay that way for long.

You’re not sure how long you’re asleep before you wake in abject terror, but it must be at least a couple of hours with the sky outside pitch dark and the apartment completely quiet around you. It’s obvious you’re the only one awake, but your brain can’t quite process it right. All you feel is shaking fear and the echo of hands pressing you into the wall, fingers in your hair yanking your head to the side, teeth grazing against your throat.

You scramble back, only to find the edge of the bed and you collapse off of it, ending up on the wood floor with your head spinning, Mingi’s bedside table lamp crashing down after you, a harsh flash of light pulsing through the room as the bulb breaks and gives one final dying flicker.

The pleading whine that’s caught in your throat sounds like a trapped animal to your ears, the pounding of your heart threatening to break your chest, blood rushing through your ears like a train. You can’t grasp reality, everything feels hazy and disconnected.

The door to your right bangs open, Yunho bleary and confused, but responding to your heightened state of fear within a moment. “Mingi!” He calls over his shoulder, “Mingi, get up right now,”

There’s a faraway faint noise from the other room.

Yunho skids to your side, careful not to touch you as he tries to meet your eyes in the dark, “Sweetheart, it’s just a nightmare.”

Part of you knows that you’re awake, safe and home, and not trapped in subspace with a threatening hand in your hair, but you can’t quite grip back to reality. You stutter out a reply, “I-I can’t breathe,”

“Mingi,” Yunho calls back over his shoulder again, “right now!”

“Please,” you whimper, part of your brain still lodged in the nightmare, “I can’t breathe,” Your hands cling onto the edge of the rug.

Mingi stumbles into the room now, half asleep but forced into consciousness and he’s shaking himself, catching up quickly, “What’s going on?”

You hear him, but your body is stuck remembering and you feel like there’s a weight on your chest, pressing you down harder, “I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe,” you stutter.

“Sweetheart,” Yunho comes closer now, his body curling around you carefully with his face directly at your side, “it’s a nightmare, you’re safe.” His arms loop around you gently, but stay open in case you need to move.

“I can’t,” you shake your head, images swimming before you.

“You’re not there,” he tells you, “we’re home, you’re with us, me and Mingi,”

You wheeze, trying to regulate your breath.

“Get a light,” Yunho pleads suddenly to the dark room, and you can hear scrambling, “she can’t see where she is, get a light on.”

Mingi trips over the discarded lamp on the floor, and fumbles back to the lightswitch on the wall near the door, searching for it with his hands but reluctant to tear his eyes away from you. Suddenly the room floods with the overhead light, a stark fluorescent glow, and the black spots across your vision start to clear.

“I have you, I have you,” Yunho repeats, holding you to him.

Your hand searches blindly for Mingi on the other side of you and he collapses next to you both, taking your hand and moving in to cradle you from the opposite side, “Baby,” he murmurs, “look around, look where you are,”

Yunho’s hand on your thigh grounds you, and then Mingi softly touches your jaw to draw your gaze to him, “Look at me,”

Your eyes flick up. He looks tired, exhausted even, his hair a wayward haystack. You blink hard, “What happened to you?”

“To me?” Mingi’s brow furrows and he glances up past you to Yunho.

“You need sleep,” You manage.

Mingi laughs sharply and cups your cheeks, “I’ll sleep later. Can you tell me where you are?”

“Your place,” You manage, and you feel the nightmare receding back into your mind inch by precious inch, your breath steadying out.

“Yeah,” He sighs, “Yeah, that’s right,”

“I’m home with you,” You repeat, your fingers sinking into the plush rug beneath you.

Yunho swallows hard, fixated on the way you’ve called their apartment home, not their home, for the third time tonight. You watch the flicker of recognition in his eyes, but he lets it pass and so do you.

Tears well up in your eyes again and you sigh, “I’m sorry about your lamp,”

“What?” Mingi’s brow furrows, “Who cares about that?”

“Still,” You manage, “I’m such a mess right now,”

“If you weren’t a mess I’d be more worried,” Yunho takes your hand in his, squeezing your fingers, “and you can take all the time you need to be a mess, we’re here.”

You slump forwards onto his shoulder, “I’m… so tired,”

“Let’s get you back to bed,” Yunho soothes, his voice soft.

You nod, letting them both ease you up to your feet, but when they turn to the bed Mingi makes a soft, confused noise, “Where?”

“Oh,” You gesture towards the corner where all his bedding is wrapped up in a ball, “I’m sorry I was just… it was too much,”

Mingi’s jaw tightens, the muscles in his neck jumping as he swallows hard, and you know he’s holding down so much anger, that someone could have scared you enough that any alpha’s scent became overwhelming, that your fear might extend even to them.

“Okay,” Yunho cuts in easily, ��whatever you want,”

He eases you back onto the mattress, but the idea that they might be gone again strikes a deep lance of panic through your stomach and you grasp his arm, “Don’t go,”

“Are you sure?” He murmurs.

“Please,” You insist, tugging his arm again.

He eases down beside you, and Mingi crosses to the opposite side of the bed so he can follow suit, sidling up to your back but careful not to touch you until you make it clear that you want him to. You fold your arm underneath your head and rest yourself down, and when your hair shifts off your neck you hear Yunho’s sharp intake of breath at the sight of your tender gland.

“Baby, what,” He reaches for you, fingertips hovering, “sweetheart, what did you do?”

“I’m fine,” You murmur but when you feel fingers gently coast over the raw skin you hiss sharply in pain and both their hands pull back.

“y/n,” Mingi’s voice is low, shaky, and he scoops up your arm to check your wrists, finding them as swollen and bruised, “oh my god,”

“I know,” You murmur, letting your eyes drift shut.

“This is not okay,” Mingi sounds pained, “you can’t hurt yourself like this,”

“I’m okay, I promise,”

“We could have helped,” Yunho insists, “we could have scented you again, both of us, or called Seonghwa, or something, anything,”

“Seonghwa?” You start, but Mingi cuts you off as he pushes your hair further to the side to see more of your neck.

He makes a tight noise with his tongue against his teeth, “These look tender, Yunho’s right,”

“You scented me plenty,” You shake your head, letting your hair fall back into place, “but I promise, I’m okay,”

Mingi wraps his arms around you from behind, tucking you close to his chest and dropping his head onto yours, “You’re scaring me,” he confesses into your hair.

“I know,” You murmur, “but I wasn’t trying to hurt myself,”

“And now?” Yunho asks softly.

“I’m a little better,” You pull him closer, “I was overwhelmed earlier and… even you both I didn’t want, but now? I feel safer, clearer,”

Yunho kisses your forehead, letting his lips linger as you all get your emotions back in check, “Okay,”

“Can we stay just like this?” You nuzzle into him, pulling Mingi in closer behind you until you’re snuggled up so tight you might overheat .

“I’ll be wherever you want,” Mingi wraps his hand around yours and tucks them into your chest.

Yunho murmurs his agreement softly and you nod, letting their heat soak into your body and releasing your tense muscles bit by bit. You were supposed to tell them how you felt already, you need to get it out in the open before things get too blurry again, but right now you have to let it go.

Silence stretches between the three of you, their breathing even and low, and you’re not sure if they’re asleep or awake when you make your quiet plea in the dark but in a whisper you beg them to never, ever let you go again. At least for tonight, they hold you fast.

#this night together fic #honeyhotteoks fics #yunho x reader #mingi x reader #yungi x reader #yunho #mingi #yungi #ateez fic #yunho fic #mingi fic #yunho ff #mingi ff #ateez ff #ateez series

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julianalvarez9 · 8 months

Text

CHANGE YOUR MIND / MASON MOUNT

SUMMARY: You never really liked Mason Mount, even before he came to your club. Turns out, he's a very persuasive man, who will do everything he can to change your mind.

PAIRING: mason mount x ten hag!reader

WORD COUNT: 1.3k

WARNINGS: mason is a lovesick fool, use of ten hag as a plot device i'm so sorry

AUTHOR'S NOTE: it's been agesssss since i've posted something, so here's this! (something's that's been sitting in my drafts and i didn't dare finish for almost a month!). would reallyyyy love some feedback!

Your eyes go wide at the sight of him, resting calmly over the cap of his car, hands hiding inside his pockets. Mason looks straight out of a movie; one where the protagonist is waiting for his lover outside of their home. You try to not think about that, or about the warm feeling in your chest, as you angrily make your way towards him.

Once you reach him, you're ready to voice your concerns about his presence in your parents' home. "What are you doing here?".

The urgency in your voice only made the Englishman grin harder, if that was even possible.

He shrugs, clearly not preoccupied about the matter. "Came to see a friend, offer her a ride to work". You roll your eyes, annoyed, because obviously, this is Mason. This is the same insufferable guy you've got to know for months now, ever since he signed for Manchester United.

By looking at the watch on your wrist, and knowing your dad's entire routine, you know you two are running out of time. "C'mon, Mount, you need to leave!", you urge, and he tilts his head in confusion. "What? Why?," as if his entire life, at least, sport related, wasn't threatened by the man about to walk out the door.

"Did you hit yourself on the way here? Did you happen to forget who I live with?".

He shrugs, again, claiming "I don't mind". A second after, "he actually likes me. More than you do, at least". It's not the first snarky remark he throws your way, but it's still too early for you to pretend he hasn't got a special capacity for getting under your skin.

"I'd like to see if he continues to like you when he sees you talking to his daughter in his front yard".

You're right about that.

Yeah, Mason is your dad's new shiny toy, awarding him with being a constant feature in the starting eleven in every United game, but you doubt he'd be alright with whatever he's trying to do. After all, he never liked any of your past boyfriends, or friends who he -somehow- recognized as undeserving of his little girl, his only daughter. "I think he will," Mason says confidently, "I'm actually a great son-in-law, you know?".

You swear it is too early in the morning to have rolled your eyes the number of times you have in his presence, during the past three minutes. You ask, hopeful that the sly remark works to get him off your back. "Has being this cocky actually helped you, in some way?".

When his smile falters, you grin. It's probably the first time he doesn't have something, anything, to hit back, and you consider it a win for your side. "It did," he answers truthfully a beat after, and now his smile is bigger than ever. "Look, you're smiling at me".

You try, hard, to stop your cheeks from going red, but the way you can't really hold his stare any longer is a win for him. He basks in this feeling, knowing himself to be able to make you nervous must be a good sign, right?

At least, he hopes so.

"Okay, stop fucking around or you'll be late," you warn, coming close enough to him to push him off the hood of his car, and towards the driver's door. You try to ignore the way your fingers burn after touching him, deciding not to acknowledge the warning signs that something had changed in the past few weeks. You don’t despise him nearly as much, but you’re not keen on the idea of him knowing about it. Yet.

Mason opens the door of his car, and gets in. You nervously watch back, to the entrance door, after seeing what time it is. 9:13 AM. Your father will be out the door, any second now.

You hope that, the next time you look to the street, the car will be gone, and any trace of the Englishman vanished, like a dream. But instead, when you turn again, the tinted window of his car is down, and he's looking mischievously at you. "Already caring for me? that's new, Ten Hag".

"Go away, Mount".

Hearing the door open, just a few seconds after seeing Mason's car disappear from your street, makes your blood turn cold. The piercing question from your father doesn't make things better. "What are you doing over there?". There’s nothing you could possibly say that will convince your father, and saying the truth isn’t a possibility right now; so, instead, you defuse the question. "Nothing, nothing. Are you ready to leave now?".

The way to Trafford Training Centre is quiet. Your father isn't one to talk much normally, but the silence squishes you until you feel like you're holding your breath. He knows, you're sure, and you’re gonna make Mason pay for it.

That’s it, if you reach the training ground alive.

"You know, I think Mason is a good kid".

The affirmation is nowhere what you had expected your father to say, so you can’t hide the furrowed brows and defensive tone that comes along with it. "We're in first name base already? Wow, that's new".

The car stops in the red light, and your dad takes the time to turn his head in your direction. He sees your fixed gaze ahead, brows still furrowed, and his head tilts in confusion. "And he's trying really hard to get in your good graces".

"That's not true".

A beat.

"I saw him this morning".

After that, you're left waiting; either, for the disapproving voice in his tone, the yelling, or the pointing out reasons why you shouldn’t be this close to a player, much less someone like him. But instead, he’s silent. And somehow, the silence is scarier.

The air feels thick, and it’s scarily similar to how it feels when a storm is brewing. Hot, too heavy, and like the entire sky is about to fall apart. And a few minutes after, with the car finally parked, and the training center standing tall just a few meters ahead, Erik begins to talk.

“I don’t have a problem with it. Whatever it is”. In other circumstances, you’d laugh at the way he signaled with his hand when saying it, almost like dismissing the entire ordeal, as if he still, so many years after introducing other boyfriends in the past few years -not one that’s worth mentioning, though-, refused to acknowledge that his little girl is not so little anymore.

“I know I always said it’s not a good idea. And I still don’t think it is,” he remarks, but holds a finger up before you can’t argue against what he’s saying, “but, as I said, he’s a good kid. And, most importantly, he’s aware that if he breaks your heart, he won’t play anymore, so-”.

The horror in your eyes must be evident, because he starts laughing before you can tell him off because of his antics. “Dad!”.

“So, you can go out with him. Just don't break his heart, yeah?” You can’t even respond because he gets off the car then, taking his things with him before closing the car door. Yes, you come in together, but since you insist on keeping family business out of the club, Erik begins making his way in alone. “Could really use my star player having a great season".

In the distance, you can see Mason; he’s smiling widely, with a coffee cup in his hand, and standing just by the door. He opens it, to let your dad in, and you shake your head in feign disapproval. “Right, Mount?,” Erik calls, alluding to his previous statement; the one he can’t possibly have heard, given how far he was when he said the words. Between the three of you, you’re not the only one that knows that it’s a test, so Mason answers accordingly.

“Yes, sir, of course”.

#football imagine #football imagines #football x reader #football x you #football x y/n #football fanfic #mason mount x you #mason mount x reader #mason mount imagine

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sicklyseraphnsuch · 7 months

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The Duality of Simon (or the Importance of Marcy)

Travel back to the early 2010s, when Adventure Time was still a fairly new thing. The fandom was growing, the theories were flowing. We've had confirmation that Ooo is in fact a post appcalyptic world. And then we get:

Here was living, breathing proof of the intersection between Ooo and our world. Simon Petrikov was a literal connection to the past, and moreover one of the ways Adventure Time really began to develop its inner tragedies.

But honestly, as sad as the Idea of Simon Petrikov was - it remained that he was a relic, an inert tragedy that was a connection to the past, but not necessarily connected to the future.

Enter:

You can mourn the losses of ages past. But it won't necessarily move you to act. Because there's nothing to compel you. You can stand to gain something but it's more important that you don't lose anything by keeping the status quo. In short, there weren't any stakes.

No, not those kind of Stakes... Well... maybe a little

So, bear in mind, Betty won't make her debut until two seasons after "Holly Jolly Secrets". To us, she was a non-entity. Simon's grief over her loss was for the audience, a mostly intellectual exercise. How sad for this poor cursed man to lose the woman he loved - replacing all proper nouns with common nouns because we didn't know Simon either. But his situation is clearly sad, just in a general, unspecific way. Because again, there's nothing at stake here.

Marcy drives thoses stakes up (and into our hearts). Suddenly, Simon becomes Very Very Real because we know Marcy. We've hung out with her for at least five seasons now leading up to the game changing "I Remember You".

By connecting Marcy to this Simon, suddenly we had something to lose - suddenly we already lost something. Marcy gave Simon's curse weight - dimension - texture - rendering it very real instead of a mere intellectual tragedy. Simon matters because he matters to someone here and now, because someone was still crying over him. And we love Marcy. We don't want her to cry.

It was through the Marcy and Simon relationship that we came to learn of and love Simon. Betty came later. Betty came after. We already loved Simon by then so learning of his love story was just building on that love. Naturally, being invested in the Simon and Betty relationship without prior connection to Simon is possible. But the fact that he was already established and endeared to the audience goes a way into investing in the Simon and Betty relationship.

So we get to Fionna and Cake.

We get exactly one scene with the Marcy we know and love. And Simon isn't even in the same room as her.

And the show is fully justified in doing so because Fionna and Cake was a series about Simon and Betty. And Simon and Marcy have little to do with that A story (the love plotline). Even if the B story (the recovery plotline) does pay homage to Simon and Marcy by showing Simon that he does have value, the homage amounts to only a few scenes (maybe cumulatively three minutes of screen time) in the whole series.

However, Simon and Marcy's relationship wasn't just to show that Simon is an integral component to the way Ooo came to be, and his impact on the people he loves. Simon and Marcy's relationship is integral to how we came to love Simon - against all odds and all tenets of common sense, a man that was slowly warped by madness chose to take care of a completely unknown little girl that he found in the wreckage of the world.

The problem here is that Marcy's Simon and Betty's Simon never got to meet in the middle. A lot of this is rooted in the original Adventure Time series where Betty and Marceline never speak more than ten words to each other.

Literally the only time they share the screen (and no I'm not counting Betty bot in Broke his Crown)

Which is BANANAS considering they are literally the two most important people in Simon's life.

And listen, again, by Fionna and Cake, we are invested in Simon and Betty, especially after what she did during the finale. We want to know about them.

And again, the Fionna and Cake series is well and wholly complete without ever having Simon and Marcy talk.

But it leaves a little ache. Because again, the first opportunity to truly love and connect with Simon came through Simon and Marcy. And we never really know how they get on now that they're back together. We seriously have maybe 10 lines of conversation between them since the finale and this includes Obsidian.

Literally, he says hi to Marcy twice and that's it. Very meaningful conversation.

Aaaand there's also the supreme irony where in one relationship, Simon never gets a chance to contribute equally, and in his other relationship, Simon wore himself down to nubs giving all that he had. But this duality within Simon is never really connected. There is a throughline here, his impulse for self sacrifice shares a root for his self centered perspective that blinded him to Betty's self effacing habits.

Now here's the thing, Fionna and Cake also built its conflict around Simon's identity and his self worth, etc. Yet it doesn't really contend with all that Simon has done without Betty, and before Ice King. By centering the narrative on only how he was with Betty (both pre and post Mushroom War), we get very little foundation laid out for what he could do after he says goodbye to her.

And this isn't a mistake because again, the series stands on its own just fine. The story works without it because at least that central relationship of Simon and Betty is fully established. But it does come at the cost of a missed opportunity to fully explore the cause of Simon's myopia, or how living through an apocalypse could reinforce that myopia because Simon keeps romanticizing "when his life was great".

Finally, the other downside is that Fionna and Cake stands on its own, maybe a little too much. It's still based on the characters of Adventure Time, building on the love for the original show. So it would have been a crowd pleaser, shall we say some fan service, to get more of what the original show worked hard to make us love.

#adventure time #fionna and cake #simon petrikov #marceline abadeer #marceline the vampire queen #betty grof

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7ndipity · 9 months

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Mornings with Yoongi

Yoongi x Reader

Summary: just some thoughts and a small blurb about soft morning things with Yoongi

Warnings: none, not proofread

A/N: Thanks to the lovely anon who requested this! It's a little short, but it's kind of a similar concept to the Yoongi drabble I'm planning to post tomorrow, so hopefully you like both of them?

Masterlist

Requests are open

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Contrary to what some people might think, despite typically being the first one up and about, Yoongi is not a morning person.

Mornings with you however, made him start to reconsider his opinion a bit.

Naturally, he enjoyed the slower, lazy mornings on the weekends, when neither of you had anywhere else to be, hazey gold light slipping through the curtains as he lay listening to your steady breaths as you slept next to him.

But even on normal days, when you were both in a rush to get ready and out the door, there were little habits and routines that you two had developed that made him come to appreciate those early hours of the morning.

The way you always let your hand drift across his back before you get out of bed.

Him helping you curl/style that one section of hair in the back that never quite lies right for you.

Knowing where each other's things are, but not your own. "Do you know where-?" "You're grey sneakers are in the hall closet." / "Have you seen my earbuds?" "In my bag." "Why are they in your bag?!"

On days when you have to leave earlier than him, he still gets up with you and makes your coffee or breakfast for you.

Slipping little notes in his bag or pocket for him to find later.

Surprisingly clingy in the morning. If he doesn't get a certain amount of affection, he's grumpy the rest of the day.

Trying to be as quiet as possible, you tiptoed around the room, gathering your things for the day, only to turn around to around to see his dark eyes, still heavy lidded with sleep, following your every move.

"Hey." He rasped.

"Hi." You whispered, not wanting to wake him further.

"What time is it?"

"Almost nine."

" 's too early." He grumbled, grabbing for your waist as you walked past in a half-hearted attempt to pull you back to bed.

"Yoongi, I have to get ready for work." You whined.

"You don't have to go in till ten." He pointed out, trying to entreat you with his eyes as he toyed with the edge of your shirt.

You sighed. "Ten minutes."

With a grin, he half dragged you back onto the bed, wrapping his arms around you tightly.

"You big baby." You giggled.

"Shh, I'm sleeping." He mumbled as he tucked your head under his chin, eyes already closed again.

#yoongi fluff #yoongi imagine #yoongi scenarios #yoongi headcanons #yoongi timestamp #yoongi blurb #yoongi reaction #yoongi x y/n #yoongi x reader #bts x y/n #bts x reader #bts headcanons #bts fluff #bts requests #bts reactions #bts reaction #7ndipity

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gimmeurtmi · 1 year

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backstage — lee know

pairing: lee minho x fem!reader

tags: established relationship, dom/sub dynamic, mc!lee know, fluff, smut!!!🔞

warnings: swearing, dom!minho, boyfriend!minho, minho shows off reader (in a non-sexual way), dirty talk, thigh riding, unprotected sex, finger sucking, exhibitionism as a fantasy and is talked about a lot, use of "good girl", "whore", "slut", some light degradation, praising, jewellery as consent signals, kink negotiations, lmk if i forgot any!

inspo: i saw too many gifset of lee know on music core. plus @lino-nyangi's posts about exhibitionist!minho

notes: i got carried away. again. let's just from now on always assume i'm gonna get carried away when it comes to minho. thanks. also i wrote this on my laptop so it's actually written normally lmao. this won't be consistent i'm sorry.

{ wc: 8676 }

A few weeks ago Minho promised you he’d take you with him to record MusicCore. You were a fan of the show before Minho joined it, and ever since he secured a job as an MC you begged him week after week to let you come with him.

Today was finally the day the stars aligned, and your schedule allowed you to come with him. Minho was very clear that you could only come if you were there to support him from the morning until he was done, something about how it would be unfair of you to leave him alone in the middle. So when you had some time off, and Minho was preparing to record, he surprised you with a lanyard attached to a card that said Full Access: Guest of Lee Min Ho on it.

You were gonna frame it after today.

So when you got up in the morning, thirty minutes before your alarm, you made sure to spend some extra time styling your hair and perfecting your makeup. It wasn’t like you were going there to impress anyone—but stepping into the studio of MusicCore felt like a fancy event, and you needed to dress accordingly.

Minho grumbled from behind you as he woke up—he only got home at three in the morning after practicing for his stage all night—searching for you next to him.

“Jagiya,” he mumbled, eyes still shut, “where are you?”

“I’m here, my love,” you announced from your chair in front of the vanity.

“C’mhere,” he mumbled, plopping his head back into his three pillows. You quickly followed his orders, crawling back into the bed, making sure not to touch the white pillows before you had a chance to set your foundation.

“What time is it?”

“Eight thirty,” you checked your phone quickly.

“Why did you leave me?” He whined, wrapping his arms around you.

“I couldn’t keep sleeping knowing where we’re going,” you grinned. Minho smiled softly, his eyes still closed.

“You’re excited?” He asked, unwilling to open his eyes just yet, knowing he had ten more minutes to stay in bed still.

“I’m so so excited! It’s gonna be such a good show, show, show!” You recited, causing Minho to chuckle at you.

It was then he opened his eyes finally, rubbing them slightly before he took a moment to look at you.

“Holy shit,” he let out after a few rapid blinks.

“What?”

“You’re gorgeous,” his grip on you tightened, pulling you closer.

“You didn’t know that before?” You asked, feigning offence at his shocked face.

“Of course I knew that,” he nudged his head into your shoulder, “it’s just a bit overwhelming seeing it first thing in the morning.”

“Well, you’re gonna be seeing this gorgeous face all day,” you smirked.

“I’m so lucky,” he concluded before kissing your neck softly. “We’re gonna walk up to every crew member there and make sure they know you’re my girlfriend.”

“Oh, yeah? You wanna show me off today?” You smirked at him.

Innocently, Minho mumbled a small ‘yes’ your way, unaware of the thoughts in your brain. It was too early to bring in such inappropriate thoughts to the conversation, but maybe you couldn’t help but think about that little thing you and Minho agreed upon a few months ago.

Neither of you liked the idea of doing anything inappropriate in public—but sometimes, when Minho talked to you, he’d mention things like that. And sometimes, it got you so horny he could get away with saying a lot of things.

To make sure both of you were comfortable with these kinds of things, you agreed on wearing certain things to let him know how you were feeling. When you wanted him to go hard, it was the red ring he bought you. When you wanted him to only praise you, it was the butterfly earrings you found at the old market place on your third date. And when you wanted him to mention these kind of things, play along to the fantasy that you two were going to do things in front of others, you wore the gold necklace he got you with a small M dangling off it.

Minho also knew you were completely happy with him ignoring those signs as well—as you both needed to want it for it to be enjoyable—so you knew you could wear it today even if he didn’t want to indulge you.

It sat beautifully above your collarbones and honestly, it brought the whole outfit together nicely. You might have to ask Minho to change the sign to a different necklace, as the more you looked at it the more you wanted to wear it every single day.

Minho didn’t comment on it, you weren’t sure he even noticed it, as he stepped out of the shower and started getting ready for his day. The pair of you had a quick breakfast, Minho making sure to kiss your lips when you were done, and then call a car to get you to the studio.

You squealed excitedly at him as you saw the studio coming into view—your previous thoughts from the morning forgotten as they were replaced by butterflies instead.

Minho was a very talented MC, you always told him that, and the reality of getting to see him record was finally starting to set.

“Thank you so much,” you said as your boyfriend laced your fingers together, walking you towards the entrance to the studio.

“Why are you thanking me?” He shrugged at you before smiling at the receptionist and offering her a small bow. You followed suit, watching as Minho signed in on the sheet and made small talk with her.

“Are you her?” She asked timidly, watching as you signed your name on the guest sheet.

You looked at Minho in question, unable to ignore the way his ears turned pink.

“The girlfriend,” she added, pointing at your interlocked hands.

“Oh, yeah,” you smiled, “I’m Y/N.”

The pair of you bowed at each other before she spoke up again, “Lee Know doesn’t stop talking about you. Every week he tells me something else sweet about you.”

“Does he?” You exclaimed, your eyebrows raising as Minho simply refused to look at your questioning gaze.

“You are very pretty,” she complimented. “I hope you two stay very happy.”

“Thank you,” you smiled widely at her. “Have a lovely day.”

“I’m never telling you anything again,” Minho joked at her, before he dragged the pair of you away and deeper into the studio.

“Min?” You questioned once you were alone, “since when do you talk about me?”

“What do you mean?” He said, adjusting his hair slightly to make sure his now red ears weren’t on display.

“No one has ever said something like that to me at JYP,” you point out. It wasn’t that Minho wasn’t affectionate towards you, you were showered with it, but never in front of people. You’ve met a lot of his colleagues and even stayed with him for a week during their world tour, and no one has ever reacted that way towards you before.

“She’s just very nice, is all,” he dismissed.

You nodded, dismissing it as well. You knew your boyfriend very well, and he was a private kind of person. You couldn’t imagine him walking up to reception in the morning and telling her all about you—it just didn’t seem like Minho. He was only that way with a select few people, so you assumed perhaps this colleague of his fell under that category, too.

It was probably nothing.

Minho explained what each room was as you walked past it, that one was Minju’s dressing room and that one was the wardrobe department and that one was the backup dancers room and that was a guest room. Then, after climbing a few stairs, you reached it.

The door had ‘Lee Know’ written across it with a blue star.

“And this is mine,” he smiled, opening the door before gesturing for you to go in first.

As you walked in, your hand fell from his as both your hands came up to hide your gasp.

“What is that?” You asked, referring to the huge vase full of flowers.

“I don’t know,” Minho said, walking up to it. “I didn’t put it here.”

You walked over to it, found a little card hanging off the yellow roses and opened it.

“Dear Y/N,” you read out loud, giving Minho a look. His eyebrows frowned heavily, and you knew that if he wrote it he would’ve just smirked instead. You kept reading. “We are so excited to meet you. We hope you enjoy your first day here. Kindly, Jinho and Mihi.”

“Oh my god,” Minho groaned, sitting down on the couch with a huff.

“Who are they?”

“The makeup artists,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “They stole my moment!”

“What moment?”

“Look behind the flowers,” he was whining, clearly unimpressed by the amount of attention you were getting. How did the makeup artists even know you were coming—and why were they excited to meet you?

You walked behind the flowers, far too big to see anything hidden behind them, and found a box there. You opened it to see inside a bag of your favourite snacks, a polariod camera, and Leebit. A small card sat next to it.

“Dear Y/N,” you read, chuckling out loud. “Thank you for coming today and I hope it’s as beautiful as you imagined it would be. Please cheer loudly for me when you see me on stage and take lots of pictures to remember it! I finally got you the Leebit you wanted, so you’ll blend in nicely with the rest of the Stays. I love you. Min.”

Minho’s face was in his hands, his ears still incredibly red.

“Baby,” you sighed, picking up the bunny plushie and holding him close to your chest. “This is so incredibly sweet.”

“You were supposed to see it later when I was busy and be moved by how amazing your boyfriend is,” he sighed.

“I am moved,” you made sure to tell him, making your way over to where he was sitting.

“The flowers are so much nicer though,” he complained, letting out a loud whine at the end of his sentence.

“The flowers are very nice, but only my amazing and considerate boyfriend could give me something like this.”

You leaned over to kiss his cheek, ignoring the urge to tease him about how warm his face was. “And I finally have my Leebit!”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, playing with the bunny’s tail, “I had to beg the merch team for it. They’re in very high demand.”

“I can imagine,” you chuckled. “Come on,” you urged him to stand up in front of the mirror with you, “we need to debut the polariod camera!”

You quickly unpacked the camera and pointed it at the reflection, telling your boyfriend to come over and join you.

Minho rolled his eyes at you but wasted no time in wrapping an arm around your waist and inching his head closer to you. With a cute smile on both your faces you snapped the picture, a happy dance following your movements as you waited for the photo to print.

“Thank you for this,” you said softly at him, “and thank you for bringing me and everything.”

“Anything for you,” he said sincerely, leaning down and kissing your lips softly. “Would you have enjoyed it more if the flowers were from me?”

You laughed at him, shaking your head as you waited for the picture to develop.

“You know I like your thoughtful gifts more than flowers. Flowers are nice, but you always think hard about what you buy me,” you smiled at him, kissing his cheek softly.

Minho nodded at that, pleased enough with your answer, before he walked over to his table and looked over the script sat there.

“I need to go over this,” he said, guesting at the pages in his hand. Minho warned you before you came that shooting involved a lot of work and he won’t have too much time to spend with you—but you were content with that. You had your phone with you and a book, you could entertain yourself without his help.

“Okay. Can I go find the makeup artists and thank them?”

“Sure,” Minho smiled, “call me if you get lost.”

You nodded at him, kissed his lips one last time, and grabbed your new camera and your plushie with you—ready to explore the halls where they filmed one of your favourite shows.

You remembered enough about Minho’s little tour to navigate without too much nervousness, quickly finding the door that said ‘makeup’ on it.

It was open, the sound of people talking coming from inside and you knocked lightly on the door.

“Hello,” you said politely, bowing to the strangers. “I’m looking for Jinho and Mihi.”

“Yes?” one of the women said, looking at you up and down. After a few moments her eyes settled on your face, taking in your hightlights and lipstick. “Your makeup is fantastic!”

“Thank you,” you smiled, knowing there was no bigger compliment than a professional admiring your work. “I just wanted to say thank you for the flowers and welcoming me today.”

Once you said those words, the woman looked at the bunny in your hand, and you could almost see the penny dropping in her mind.

“You’re Y/N!” You nodded. “Oh!”

The pair of them hugged you, smiling widely as they each introduced themselves to you.

“We’ve heard so much about you!” They chuckled, “every time Lee Know sits in that chair he does not stop talking about you. He’s either talking about that or we’re exchanging recipes.”

You laughed, imaging your boyfriend trying to explain his latest food experiement to the women in front of you.

However, you couldn’t just breeze past the fact he was sharing things with them, too. You knew his makeup artist in JYP was very close to him, too, as it was more than awkward to just sit in front of someone for twenty minutes without saying a thing—but she never said anything like that to you. Your nail tech knew all about Minho, but you were known for sharing things with people with ease. Minho was not.

“May I ask,” you dared, “what kind of things does he say?”

“Oh, nothing bad of course,” they thought to reassure you, “Lee Know is very protective of you it seems. He cares about you a lot.”

You smiled, “yeah, I care about him, too.”

The pair awwed in unison. “They’re too sweet!”

“It’s just… Minho doesn’t really talk about these things with a lot of people.”

They laughed at you, their eyebrows knitted together. “What do you mean?”

“Lee Know always brainstorms date ideas with us, and tells us about how well you’re doing at work! Congratulations on that promotion last month!”

You thanked them, a blush warm on your cheeks. “Really?”

“Oh, dear, I hope you don’t mind that he told us?” Jinho said, looking at her friend with slight concern on her forehead.

“Oh, no! Of course not!” You reassured. “It’s not that. It’s just, surprising, is all.”

They nodded at you. “He’s probably just more comfortable sharing romantic stories with us.”

They did have a point. You were sure it was much easier sharing stories with the makeup artists than with his crew members.

You thanked them one more time before suggesting to take a picture with them—using the camera your boyfriend bought you, and excused yourself.

You walked down the hallway trying to see if there was anything else to explore. You knew the canteen was on the opposite side of Minho’s room, so you slowly made your way there—making sure to take in as many details as possible.

You watched many behind the scenes features about the show and walking down the hallway you saw in them was like something out of a movie—stepping into a place you felt you already knew by heart. It was just the start of the day, there was so much more excitement to feel, but already you were overwhelmed by it.

You thought maybe grabbing a snack and a drink would make you feel better.

Once you arrived at the canteen you saw a few people sat around with coffees, some were reading over scripts, some were listening to music.

You ordered an iced drink and a pastry, paying for your order and smiling polietly and the man who worked at the canteen. His smile was very bright.

Everyone was so friendly, you noted, and even texted your friend as such when they asked how it was going so far.

Everyone in your circle knew how excited you were for today—so they all checked in to see you were still alive and didn’t die from happiness overload.

You sat down at the end of a very big table, not many other seats available, and started scrolling down your social media to occupy yourself.

“Can we sit here?” Someone asked.

You looked up to see a group of four boys with their meals. There wasn’t anywhere else for them to sit, and either way you didn’t mind. You nodded at them with a small smile.

Becoming very aware of the looks they were giving your bunny, you grabbed him and concealed him in your lap instead. You knew you looked like a fangirl carrying him around—and you didn’t mind in the slightest—but you didn’t want these strangers to ask you questions. You didn’t know who they were, and they clearly recognised what the plushie was meant to represent, and you could already see the horror scenario of you getting kicked out of the studio for being mistaken as a fan that sneaked their way in. You subconsciously checked your pass was still in your pocket.

The boys were, however, too immersed in their own conversation to even look your way.

That was until one of the boys got up and asked the group if they wanted anything, and then, he asked you the same thing.

“Oh, thank you. I’m fine,” you smiled, pointing at your still mostly full drink. He nodded.

“I think Tae-hyung was trying to flirt with you,” his friend helpfully supplied.

You chuckled at the angry look on his friend’s face before he walked away to get everyone’s orders.

“That’s no way to flirt with someone,” you joked back, trying to lighten up the awkwardness you were feeling. “That’s just being friendly.”

“And how do you flirt with someone?” The boy challenged with a smirk.

You laughed at him—he was doing good—but you couldn’t let him get his hopes up.

“I’d show you, but I’m taken,” your hand went down to your lap where Leebit was sitting safely, and you held onto him tightly.

At that the fourth boy, Tae, came back with the drinks, joining the conversation.

“Hear that, hyung? She’s taken,” one of the boys announced. He sighed dramatically, shaking his head at the news.

You chuckled at his dramatic reaction, enjoying the new relaxed atmosphere around the table.

Then the boys introduced themselves, informing you they danced on the show weekly.

“I’m actually a massive fan of the show, I thought I recognised your faces,” you said with a smile, knowing you saw the oldest boy in the group before.

“Really? Who’s your favourite MC then?” One of the boys teased, nudging his head in the direction of your lap—where they all knew the bunny was hiding.

“Is it obvious?” You joked, showing them your plushie, and then tapping your phone where a picture of Minho sat proudly. It was one of him on the show, holding his microphone with his name covered in glitter adoring it.

“I’m sorry to break it to you, but he’s also taken,” one of the dancers said. “And he’s whipped.”

“What?” You couldn’t help but ask.

“We probably shouldn’t say this, but every time we’re practising with him he has to stop around the same time to send his girlfriend a text. And he’ll talk about her a lot, too. So even if you were to ditch your partner for Lee Know—he would never leave his girlfriend.”

“I’ve never seen anyone that in love before,” one of them added, “she’s all he talks about.”

Your stomach crunched at their words. Who was this person everyone was talking about and since when did your boyfriend share so much about your relationship?

“What, uh, what does he say about her?”

“Are you one of the jealous fans?” The dancer made sure to ask. You quickly shook your head, making sure to let them know you were happy for him, and just curious to know more.

“Well, he talks a lot about what they do together. And how he wants to adopt a cat with her because she’ll be great at raising them.”

“Oh my god,” Tae chuckled, “remember when we were practising for his first stage and every time he got tired he looked at her picture?”

They laughed.

“He kept saying she’s better than caffeine.”

You slowly pressed a hand to your cheek trying to check just how warm your skin was. It was on fire. Your stomach was, too.

“That’s sweet,” you concluded, “I’m glad my idol is so happy.”

You knew you had to play the part now, as it would be far too awkward to let them know who you were now. So you just smiled instead.

“Well, I hope you get to enjoy the show today,” they said after you all finished your food. “We need to get going before we miss our schedule.”

“Of course,” you nodded, “good luck!”

So, the receptionist and the makeup artists were one thing. The dancers were a totally different thing. Since when was Minho like this? You thought you knew your boyfriend well, you thought he was only open about these things with his members and with his family, you didn’t think he just told everyone about you.

The staff at JYP definitely didn’t see you like any of the people around here did—and you couldn’t help but wonder why they knew so much about you.

You didn’t mind, of course, Minho was free to share what he wanted with who he wanted, but this was unexpected. You weren’t quite sure how to react to it all.

You pushed those thoughts to the side, instead asking your boyfriend if he wanted anything to eat and when he said no you made your way back to his dressing room.

You waited patiently as Minho read over his script a few more times, practising out loud in front of the mirror to monitor his facial expressions and his tone of voice.

Soon, a PA walked in and talked Minho over his schedule. First, he needed to go get his outfit on.

You followed him around, his hand never leaving yours, and sat quietly by him as they made sure the outfit sat comfortably around his body.

“You look really good,” you mumbled at him as the pair of you made your way to the makeup room.

He kissed the back of your hand in response.

Jinho and Mihi smiled at you as they saw your hands locked together, inviting Minho to sit down in one of the chairs.

The four of you talked about your day, how you were finding it around the studio, and if you met any interesting people yet.

“Oh, I met one of my favourite dancers on the show! I didn’t know his name until now but I recognised him as the dancer I focus on most of the time,” you answered politely.

Minho looked at you so fast you were worried his neck might snap.

“Your favourite what?” He gasped at you.

“His name is Tae, he said,” you answered.

“Tae?!” Minho nearly yelled. His face was forced back into its previous position by Jinho as she tried setting his foundation.

He didn’t seem as angry with a powder brush tapping around his face. But you knew you made the wrong move when he gave you the same look he did to his members when they made a mistake in the choreography. Only this time his jealous scowl was attached to it, too.

“Obviously, you’re my favourite dancer. But on the show you don’t dance a lot so he’s my favourite.”

Minho scoffed at that, causing both the artists to laugh at the interaction before they changed the subject to your work instead. You told them a bit about it, enjoying how attentive they were to your words and experiences.

When Minju entered the room to get herself ready, she gasped as she saw you.

“It’s so nice to meet you!” She bowed, and you followed her as you gave you that same sentiment back. The pair of you chatted away easily, excitement bubbling inside your stomach as you managed to speak so freely in front of her. You were a big fan of hers as well, having been part of the show for a while, and Minho even agreed to take a picture of the two of you together before Mihi insisted she needed to start working on the MC soon.

It was time for Minho to walk towards the soundstage, now that he was fully ready, and the pair of you made your way down there—hand never leaving his.

“You know, Tae also tried to flirt with me,” you decided to say, just to see your boyfriend’s reaction.

“Did he?” He let out, clenching his jaw visibly.

“Yeah, but then instead he told me all about how I’m like your caffeine.”

At that, Minho’s face changed from jealousy to pure embarrassment, and he was lucky it was then you reached the sound stage.

You forgot completely what you two were talking about as you saw the stage spread before you—you even jumped up and down twice.

“Min, this is so cool!” You exclaimed, “this is so fucking cool!”

Minho smiled at that, his eyes crinkling at your reaction. “Was it worth the wait?”

“This is so cool!” Is all you could say.

Minho wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pointing at different cameras and monitors and explaining what they were used for and when. You nodded at his words, listening carefully to everything he was saying.

Then it was time for him to start rehearsing, so you blew a kiss his way (as to not mess up his makeup) and clapped your hands in excitement. You had your camera at the ready too, snapping a few pictures of the set as you waited by the screens.

Jinho, who was monitoring the makeup on the screen, stood by you—helping you feel more at ease as the crew around the set watched as the three MCs rehearsed their lines.

After they rehearsed, and the dancers filmed one of their stages, it was time for a short break before the live stages were set to start. Minho got his makeup looked over before the pair of you were sent on your way back to his room.

You held onto his arm, your hand circling around his bicep as your other interlocked with his fingers. You kissed his shoulder lightly as you made your way down the hallway.

You passed the deep pink wall—the background of many pictures of your favourite idols—and so you stopped in your tracks.

“Min,” you started, but you didn’t even need to explain what you wanted before Minho grabbed the camera from your hand and gestured for you to stand against the pink backdrop.

After grabbing the small picture that printed out, Minho took out his phone and stood beside you—taking a selfie or four with you against the wall.

“Happy?” He asked as he handed you the now developed polariod. You nodded your head excitedly.

Minho chuckled at you, bringing a hand around your shoulder as he guided the pair of you back on your way towards his room.

Once you climbed up the stairs you reached your destination, sitting down on the couch by your boyfriend.

“So what’s happening now?” You asked, crossing your legs underneath your body.

“We have a few hours until we start. I usually just relax a bit before the crowd gets here and we do everything again but live.”

You nodded. “This is so cool.”

“You have mentioned,” Minho chuckled at you. He brought his hand to your hair, tucking a bit of it behind your ear.

“Can I ask you something?” Minho hummed in affirmation. “How come you share so much with the people who work here?”

“I don’t tell them anything private,” he promised you, “it’s just.. more relaxed around here. It’s hard talking about you with anyone who works at the company.”

“I don’t mind either way,” you assured him, “I just wasn’t expecting everybody to know me and tell me how much you love me.”

“Who told you that?” He questioned, his eyes averting to the plushie between your legs, avoiding your eyes again.

“Min, I think at this point I kinda know all that already,” you chuckled, amused by the way he was perfectly comfortable telling you he loved you, but suddnely now he was embaressed.

“I can be different here, I think,” he mused, “here I can be fun Lee Know who’s not cold and hard and if I said some of these things about you in the company they’ll think I’m being weird and--”

“—you’re not cold, Min,” you stopped him. He nodded. “But it’s nice being here,” you agreed, “everyone’s treating me like I’m famous or something.”

Minho grinned at you.

“So you’re enjoying yourself?”

“Yes,” you nodded, your smile reaching your eyes. “Thank you again.”

“What’s been your favourite part so far?” He asked, reaching for your hand and rubbing his thumb over the back of it.

“Well, I found the wall,” you said, reaching in to your pocket and grabbing all the polariods you took during the day, showing them off one by one to your boyfriend. “And I took pictures of the big stage! And I met Minju,” you smiled at the photo, “and of course my favourite part,” you found the picture you took of the monitor when it was focused on your boyfriend, “watching MC Lee Know in action.”

Minho laughed at that. You rarely called him by his stage name, and watching you get so excited about his side gig warmed his heart in ways he couldn’t quite explain.

He leaned forward, capturing your lips in a small kiss.

You ignored it all day—the thoughts probing inside your brain—but now that you were alone and kissing him, you couldn’t quite suppress it anymore.

The way he looked on stage, so happy and oh so stunning. His stage presence was always strong, always impossible to ignore, but on the stage you loved so much it was overwhelming you. The way he told just about everyone here how much he cared about you. The way he looked so confident in everything he did today. Even, the jealousy in his eyes when you dared call someone else your favourite dancer.

You were craving him.

So before Minho pulled away, you snaked your hands around his neck and pulled him closer. He moved his lips against yours softly, so softly you felt a lightness at the back of your eyes—as if the kiss was so strong it was dulling your other senses.

“Baby,” you whispered against his lips, tugging lightly on his hair.

“Yeah?” He asked, trying to pull away from your lips. In response, you climbed onto his lap and grabbed his jaw—pulling him even closer.

Minho responded instantly, sliding his tongue against your lips. You opened your mouth, your tongue finding his with familiar ease.

You could taste the makeup on his face, and you knew he could taste yours—but you didn’t care. All you could focus on was the feeling of his thighs underneath you, his hands around your hips, his lips on yours.

When you brought your hand to his chest, fingers reaching into his shirt, he finally pulled away.

His lips were swollen, he had lipstick around his cupid’s bow, and his eyes were glazed. It made you groan.

“What’s gotten into you?” He asked in a whisper.

“Nothing,” you shrugged, “you said we have some time to relax.”

You lean in closer, kissing underneath his jaw.

“Yeah, but we’re not alone,” he reminded you.

“We’re in your dressing room,” you countered, “we can lock the door.”

“Y/N, don’t forget yourself,” he warned you, “anyone can walk in here and need something.”

“They’ll knock,” you tried, rolling your hips against him. You could feel he was hard underneath you, you knew he wanted this, but Minho was very specific that when you two were outside of the house he wouldn’t do anything beyond kissing you. Even making out in a locked dressing room seemed like something very daring between the pair of you.

“What’s gotten into you?” He asked again with a chuckle.

“Seeing you on stage, Min,” you explained simply, bringing your hand down to the space where your bodies rested against each other.

“Calm down,” he said, grabbing your wrists and pulling your hands away, “you’ve seen me performing so many times before.”

“This is different,” you explained, rolling your hips again. Minho grunted at the contact, his grip on your wrist tightening.

“Regardless of that,” he started, tugging you away from him by your wrists when you tried to kiss him again, “we’re in public.”

“You could fuck me in front of that mirror though,” you said simply, looking at your reflection for a moment. Minho followed your line of sight, grinning at you through the mirror.

“Who are you and what have you done with my shy little girlfriend?” He asked, bringing his hand to your chin, forcing you to face him again.

He looked at your face, his eyes darkening slightly as he rubbed the lipstick stains away from your skin. His finger traced your jaw, your heart beat quickening at his actions, before his finger trailed down to your neck, your collarbone, and then rested on the M sat against your skin.

“Oh,” he let out in realisation. “When did you put this on?”

“In the morning,” you explained, swallowing slightly when you saw his expression change completely. “After you said you were gonna show me off to everyone.”

Minho cocked his head to the side, an impossibly attractive smirk on his still swollen lips.

“And then you saw I wasn’t kidding…” he filled in the blanks, his eyes still glued to the jewellery. “And now you’re horny.”

“I’m not the only one,” you argued, rolling your hips again. Minho grabbed you, stopping your movements completely.

“Yeah, but the difference is I have some self control,” he raised his eyebrows.

“Please, Min, you said yourself we have a few hours,” you whined lightly. “I’ll lock the door.”

“But if my baby’s in such a mood, surely I should open the door and ask everyone to come look at you.”

“Min,” you whined, trying to move in his grip. It was bad enough he wasn’t going to give you anything—it was straight up cruel for him to wind you up as well.

“Everyone’s heard a lot about you,” he kissed your jaw, “maybe today we should show them the parts I didn’t tell them?”

You groaned as he planted more kisses around your neck.

“Like how much of a slut my girl is,” he squeezed your hips.

“No,” you said, shaking your head, “not a slut.”

Minho looked up at you. You usually liked that name, telling him yourself it turned you on, so his eyebrows lifted up as he questioned you.

“Then what are you?” He asked softly.

“Your whore,” you corrected him, swallowing as you spoke.

You would’ve been embarrassed by the shock on Minho’s face—but it melted into a smirk just as quickly as he gasped.

“I see,” he nodded, his hands travelling down to your ass, “so you’re really in a mood.”

“Yes,” you confirmed.

“You can’t wait to get home?”

“No, I want you now,” you groaned. Minho grabbed your ass, hard, causing you to pulse around nothing.

“Get up,” he said, pushing you off his lap. You tried your best to hide your disappointment but stood up anyway. Before you could apologise for taking it too far—Minho walked to the door and locked it.

When he turned around you had to bite the smile on your face.

He walked over to you, kissing your forehead softly before he turned you around and wrapped his hands around your stomach. He walked the pair of you over to the mirror, kissing down your neck as he positioned you right in front of it.

“Like this? You want me to fuck you like this?” He asked, rubbing his crotch against your ass.

“Yeah,” you sighed, still in disbelief that Minho actually gave in to your request. He was a private person, but you guessed today you learned to see a different side of Minho from the moment you entered the studio.

“You’re gonna look at yourself while I push my dick inside you?”

“Yes,” you moaned, feeling him against your ass.

Minho started sucking on the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him with the hand still around your stomach. His other hand travelled up and down your sides—ghosting over your chest but never quite touching you there.

“And if I wanna take you like this?” He asked, spinning you around to face him. He pushed his crotch against yours, his erection teasing you against your jeans.

“Take me however you want, Min,” you moaned, rubbing yourself against him.

“You’re so fucking horny,” he chuckled dryly, wrapping his finger around the thin gold chain. “What got you this horny?”

“You,” you whispered.

“Don’t think I heard you,” Minho challenged. The rooms were all quite close together, and you knew if you said anything too loudly the people in the next room would hear you.

Minho was daring you.

“You got me this horny,” you said louder, swallowing loudly as warmth crept up your neck.

“You can’t do this,” he taunted, “you’re thinking with your pussy but we both know if I told you to moan loudly for me you wouldn’t. So why are you asking me to fuck you?”

“I’ll be quiet--”

“—but if I tell you to do something you need to do it,” Minho reminded you, “and do you really think you can take my punishment when you don’t moan loud enough for me?”

“I’ll do whatever you ask,” you nodded, jumping onto the counter you were pressed against and opening your legs wide.

Minho’s hand instantly grabbed your thighs and kneeded at your skin.

“That’s not my girl talking,” he said, kissing your cheek, “that’s your wet pussy talking for you.”

“Please,” you groaned, rolling your hips against the counter to feel something.

Minho looked down at your crotch, chuckling when he saw just how desperate you were in front of him.

“Or maybe you don’t even need me?” He questioned, grabbing the top of your thighs and rolling you against the counter again. “Is this enough for you?”

“No,” you begged, “I need more.”

“I’m not going to do anything,” he informed you, “we’re still in a very busy building and you can’t possibly be quiet.”

“You just asked me to be loud,” you groaned.

“I know,” Minho said, kissing you softly, “just wanted to see how far you’re willing to go for your boyfriend’s dick.”

At that, Minho walked away from you and picked up his script. He sat himself down on the couch, reading over his lines one more time in prepration.

“Minho,” you tried, but he simply shook his head at you.

“Not happening,” he dismissed.

“Minho,” you tried again, desperate for his attention. He kept his eyes solely on the pages in front of him.

“Calm down,” he advised.

“I’ll be quiet,” you tried.

“You know I’m gonna take that as a challenge,” he chuckled, “you being quiet means I’m not doing well.”

“Then I’ll be loud,” you offered.

At that, Minho looked up from his script over at you, his eyes dark as he leaned his head back. He looked at you for a few moments.

“What’s this about?” He questioned.

“I’m horny,” you said simply, shrugging your shoulders as you fiddled with your necklace.

“What’s it really about?” He offered you a second chance.

You jumped off the counter, walking over to him. You grabbed the script out of his hands, placed it on the couch beside him and climbed into his lap. You could tell Minho was holding himself back from placing his hands on you—instead they sat by his side.

“I’m proud of you, and you look stunning today, and I want everyone who already knows so much about me to hear how pretty I can moan for you.”

Minho licked his lips.

“I love being the person who gets fucked by Lee Know,” you added with a smirk, running your hands up and down his chest, until your reached his crotch.

Minho brought his hands to your hips, moving you against his thighs in an agonisingly slow rhythm.

“Maybe we should wait,” he offered, a raise in his brows, “we can go to the stage and I can fuck you in front of the cameras?”

“Fuck,” you let out, pushing against his thighs harder as you jolted from the friction.

“Is that what you want?”

You nodded quickly.

Minho grabbed your phone from beside him, checking the time. He smiled slightly at the new picture you set on your lockscreen—of him during his first time on the show.

He leaned up, grabbing your cheek as he brought your lips together.

“Tell me, whore,” he pulled away slightly, dragging you along his thigh faster, “when all those cameras are on you—are you gonna beg for my fingers or my cock?”

“Your cock,” you moaned, grabbing onto his shoulders.

“So everyone can see how you fall apart when my dick splits you in half?”

“Yes, Min, fuck,” you said, a rush running up and down your spine.

He leaned in, kissing you messily as you focused on riding against his thigh steadily.

“You better not make a fucking sound,” he warned against your lips, bringing a hand to his pants as he unbuttoned them. He pushed them down slightly, only enough to grab his dick out. He then unbuttoned your jeans, letting you manoeuvre for long enough to pull them down your legs.

“If I hear any sound outside we’re stopping,” he said firmly. You nodded.

Minho leaned up to kiss you softly, rubbing your shoulder. “You sure you’re okay with this?”

“Are you?”

“I’ll give you anything you want,” he smiled softly, “you just never wanted this before.”

“We’re alone, Min,” you assured him. “And I’ll tell you if I want to stop.”

He nodded before the pair of resumed your previous position, Minho nodding at you as you started sinking down on his dick.

“Fuck,” he let out, gasping softly as his head fell against the back of the couch. “Move when you’re ready.”

You nodded, moving up and down slowly as the pair of you groaned softly. Minho wrapped his arms around you, his fingers grazing against your bare thighs in comfort.

“Take your time,” he said sweetly. He kissed your cheek before he whispered down your ear, “the longer you take, the more likely someone is to come in here.”

You clenched around him.

“Maybe Tae will come to get me,” he kept going, smiling at the reaction he was getting—the wetness around his dick warm and so comforting, “he usually needs help with his dancing.”

“Really?” You chuckled, squeezing his shoulders as you upped your pace.

“Yeah, because I’m a better dancer than him,” Minho made sure to say, sighing as you clenched around him again.

“You think you fuck better than him, too?” You dared.

At that, Minho thrust up into you—causing you to swallow a moan before it escaped you.

“The only reason I’d let him watch you get fucked is so he can learn how to do it. And when I’m done with you he can try to make you cum,” he said through his teeth.

“Don’t think anyone can make me cum the way you do,” you said in between breaths.

“Right answer, whore,” he said, groaning as you clenched around him harder than before. “Fuck, stop that or I’ll be the one who’s too loud.”

At that you laughed, leaning up on your knees until only his tip was inside you—and then you sat all the way down, his dick reaching into the deeper parts of you.

Minho’s eyes fluttered shut as you repeated that action again and again and again, rendering Minho unable to move or even open his eyes.

“Where’d you go?” You asked, tapping his chin.

He grabbed your thighs, urging you to do it again.

“I’m trying to focus,” he let out, “you feel really fucking good.”

“I look good, too,” you smirked, “you’re missing out.”

Minho opened his eyes, blinking rapidly as he took in your features. You weren’t wrong. You looked amazing on top of him, controlling the pace, getting exactly what you wanted from him like you always did.

“It would be much better in front of the cameras,” he let out softly, “so they could capture how fucking beautiful you are riding my cock.”

You groaned.

“Quiet,” he warned you, burying his hand in your hair.

He pulled your face closer to his, kissing you messily, all tongue and gasps and teeth.

“Even if someone did knock right now I couldn’t stop,” you said quickly, “your dick is too fucking good.”

“It’s always yours,” he groaned, pushing you all the way down until he bottomed out. You rolled your hips, the pair of you gasping as he nudged your senstive spot again and again.

“I should take a picture of your pussy like this,” Minho said, tracing his hand around your clit teasingly. “So so full.”

You handed him the polariod camera instantly before you leaned back, bumping your hips up and down his dick.

Minho took the camera from you, unsure of what you wanted him to do with it. Nudes were not your thing, and although you were wearing that necklace today he didn’t think that meant he could just take a picture of you. Those were just words. But then, you did just hand it to him.

Before he could think about it too much you started moaning, finding the perfect angle as you sped up. Minho leaned forward, bringing a hand around your mouth to muffle your sounds.

“I said quiet, whore,” he said, kissing your neck as he felt your moans vibrating against his hand.

“Min,” you said, muffled, causing him to move his hand away.

“Yeah, baby?” He asked softly, grabbing your hand instead.

You leaned forward, hiding your head in his neck as you spoke. “Don’t like it when you cover my mouth.”

Minho nodded, squeezing your hand in agreement. “Can I put my fingers in your mouth instead then?”

You smiled at him, lifting your head from his neck and sticking your tongue out to him.

“Good girl,” he chuckled, bringing his index finger to your tongue. “And you’ve been so good today telling me exactly what you need.”

You started clenching at his praise, humming against his finger as he started meeting your thrusts from below. “You’ve been so so good with your words. And using our signals. I’m so proud of you, baby.”

You nodded, silently speeding up even more as you focused on sucking his fingers.

“Your pussy is so good, I’m gonna cum soon,” he warned with a grunt. At that he slid his fingers out of your mouth, moving them to your clit as he started rubbing it in fast circles.

You focused as much as you could on being quiet—letting your head fall on Minho’s shoulders as you felt him twitching inside you.

“Gonna cum,” you warned in a hushed whisper.

It was only a few moments later that your orgasm crashed into you—your mouth a perfect circle as you rode out your high in silence. As your walls clenched around him repeatedly, Minho came right after you, whimpering in between soft sighs.

You caught your breathes together, staying close as Minho planted small kisses on your shoulder. When you were ready to move, Minho rolled his pants further down his legs to avoid any mess on his outfit, and helped you stand up slowly.

You were lucky there was a shower in his room—and cleaned yourself off quickly. Once you were both dressed again, you sat down next to your boyfriend with a smile.

“Feel better now?” He asked with a smile, kissing your cheek.

Both of your faces were ruined, and you knew Minho would have to sit down to get his makeup redone. You had no idea how you’d get yours fixed without making it very very obvious why it got ruined in the first place.

Luckily, you remembered you packed some of your makeup with you this morning, and took it out in an attempt to fix both your faces.

Minho’s wasn’t too smudged, except for the colour around his mouth, but you managed to put enough translucent powder around it to make it presentable. The makeup artists could fix it for him.

Your mascara was gathered underneath your eyes, and Minho took a wipe from your makeup bag and cleaned it off softly.

“Thank you,” you said to him, taking a look at yourself in the mirror after he was done.

He nodded at you.

“You’re very quiet,” you observed, noticing the way Minho didn’t ask questions or say much like he usually did after sex.

Minho reached for your hand, locking your fingers together again. “Did you really want me to take a picture of you or was that just talk like most of it was?”

You pursed your lips together. “I’m—I’m not actually sure,” you admitted.

“I don’t want to take pictures of you,” Minho confessed. “I don’t want it getting into the wrong hand or for you to regret me having something like that.”

“That’s okay,” you agreed, nodding with a smile.

“I want to do everything you ask me to, but I couldn’t bring myself to take the picture and I’m sorry if that disappointed you or anything--”

“—Min, it didn’t. It was in the heat of the moment. Besides, your reason for not doing it is just to protect me, so it’s definitely okay.”

Minho nodded at that.

“And please never feel like you have to give me something just because I asked. You always say you can’t enjoy it if I’m not happy and that goes both ways,” you assured him.

Minho leaned forward to kiss you softly. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Lee Know,” you smirked.

He chuckled at you before burying his head in your hair as he hugged you tightly.

At that a thirty minute warning came on around the speakers, alerting everyone in the building to the time.

It was then time for Minho to go back to the makeup chair for any touch ups (which he definitely needed) and warm up his voice before the live stage started. You followed him around, clutching Leebit tightly as you smiled proudly at your boyfriend.

You cheered loudly like he asked you too—and at some point, you caught his eyes on you as the pair of you smiled at each other.

The crowd didn’t know you were his girlfriend, it was private, and the pair of you smiled at each other as you held onto that secret tightly.

#skz x reader #skz x y/n #skz x yn #stray kids fics #stray kids x reader #lee know x y/n #lee know x reader #lee know smut #lee know #lee minho smut #lee minho x y/n #lee minho x reader #minho x y/n #minho x reader #minho smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #all.works

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steddieas-shegoes · 2 months

Text

stay for a while

for @steddielovemonth prompt 'love is being late to work' and for @steddieholidaydrabbles pop-up event for Valentine's Day

rated e | 815 words | tags: post-sex afterglow, dirty talk, established relationship, domestic fluff

💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

"You gotta go faster," Steve panted.

"I'm not the one riding me, sweetheart," Eddie replied, equally out of breath.

"Put your back into it."

So Eddie gripped Steve's hips and put his back into it.

When Steve collapsed on top of him, Eddie's cum coating both of their stomachs, they both sighed.

This was the first time they'd managed to have sex in nearly a week. Their schedules were awful lately, and any time they did manage to spend together was usually asleep.

But Steve managed to wake up before his alarm this morning and Eddie was already naked and hard and one thing led to another...

"I'm gonna be late if I don't get up and shower," Steve sighed.

He loved his job as a guidance counselor, but the early mornings sucked. Especially when Eddie didn't have to be at work most days until nine.

Maybe he could call in sick or something today.

"I could join you..." Eddie's teeth nipped his neck teasingly. "Work you up while you wash your hair. Suck you off until you can't feel your legs. Maybe fill you up again and lick you clean."

If Steve's cock wasn't trapped between them, it probably would have given a valiant effort at getting hard again.

"Babyyyyy."

"What?" Eddie kissed his jaw. "I just wanna make up for all the time we've missed this week."

"I know," Steve sat up and looked down at Eddie's sweat-slick chest. "It'll be better next week. I won't be on afternoon pick-up duty and won't have senior meetings to go to."

"And I won't be stuck at the studio with this fuckin' singer who thinks I don't have a life outside of him and his lackluster songwriting skills."

Steve smirked. "Tell me how you really feel."

"I would, but I wouldn't wanna ruin the afterglow, Stevie. You look fuckable."

"I look fucked. There's a difference," Steve leaned down to kiss his forehead.

"Not to me," Eddie pouted. "I could fuck you again. Real quick. Won't even know I'm there."

Steve snorted. "Why are you so horny this morning, Jesus Christ."

"Don't blame him. I just always want you. You're like a potato chip: one is never enough."

"Wow. What a line. I'm melting into a puddle," Steve's monotone voice was interrupted by Eddie's loud laugh. "I'm gonna go shower before you try something."

"But...we still have 30 minutes before you have to go."

Steve glanced at the clock, jumping up and yelping when he realized Eddie hadn't even pulled out all the way yet. "Shit!"

"What?"

"I have a senior meeting this morning! I have less than ten minutes!"

Steve tripped getting out of the bed, his legs still wobbly from riding Eddie for the last 15 minutes.

"Reschedule it!" Eddie yelled after him as Steve ran into the bathroom and started the shower. "Call in sick."

"Not happening! It's Hannah; She's freaking out about college applications as if she won't get in everywhere she applies and if I cancel, she'll spiral," Eddie made his way into the shower as Steve spoke, nodding along to his words, but focused mostly on the way the water was dripping down his body as he rushed to wash his hair. "And then I have a faculty meeting with the rest of the counselors to discuss how we'll implement the new afterschool senior study group because the school board said we can't legally call it a study group unless it's 100% sanctioned by the students, which is just incredibly stupid and also not even remotely important! Like, we're just trying to make sure they can pass their finals, why does it matter what we call it?"

Eddie leaned in to kiss Steve's lips softly, just enough of a brush against them to make him pause.

"Sorry," Steve sighed. "Didn't mean to ramble."

"You know I love when you do, Stevie," Eddie smiled at him, grabbing the shampoo bottle from the shelf to get started on his own hair. "I just hate seeing you so stressed. Kinda wanna help relieve that stress some more."

"Baby, I love you, but if you touch my dick right now, I will murder you."

"Ouch," Eddie clutched his hand to his chest. "Straight to murder over a little handjob in the shower?"

"If that's what has to be done for me to get to work on time."

Eddie sighed. "Fine. I won't touch you. But I'm gonna be sad all day about the lost moments we could've shared."

Steve finished rinsing off the soap on his body and turned to give Eddie a quick peck on the lips. "We can share some moments tonight. Promise."

"Okay, okay. Get out before you're late."

Steve was still late for work, but mostly because he still insisted on packing Eddie's lunch while he was in the shower finishing up. No job was more important than that.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddielovemonth #love is being late to work #dirty talk #established relationship #domestic fluff #post-sex afterglow

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finelinevogue · 1 year

Text

distant promises

summary - Bucky has been on a mission for a long time and you miss him

warnings: insomnia, long-distance relationship, swearing, Christmas sadness (only slightly)

pairing: boyfriend!bucky x reader

word count: 2k

Bucky had been gone for 6 months now.

He was currently on a mission in the French Alps, taking down some military base that had connections to HYDRA. The mission meant a lot to him, not thanks to having been tested on and tortured with over a multitude of years. It had taken him a while to be comfortable with who he was and rid himself of the Winter Soldier. You could see him coming accepting himself for who he truly was more each day. He wasn't afraid of who he was anymore and it was an honour to have helped him through that.

It was currently 1 in the morning and you still had yet to fall asleep. You had been finding it harder and harder to fall asleep as the months went by without Bucky. It certainly didn't help that you were taking extra shifts at Starbucks, in order to pay off some debts you owed to banks and Bucky.

Bucky kept telling you to cut back on the shifts and let him pay off some of your debts you owed him too much already that you couldn’t justify anymore.

So insomnia it was.

You honestly couldn't think of what you'd done to deserve him.

Turning in bed to check your phone, you started scrolling through your Instagram to like photos on your dashboard. There were some pictures of friends who were out clubbing, singing Christmas songs at the top of their lung. There were also some celebrities posting magazine shoots and as always there were the cat accounts that you religiously followed.

You were scrolling and liking for about ten minutes before you had an incoming call from Bucky.

"Hey Buck." You sounded surprised that he'd called you. Normally it was too risky to call since he didn’t want anyone to track his phone and give away his location, but here he was.

"Hi babe." You could hear the smile in his voice.

"What's up?" You asked as you snuggled further under the warmth of your fresh, clean, duvet.

"I saw you were active on Instagram, but I know it’s really early morning where you are so I just wanted to make sure everything is okay?"

Knowing that Bucky kept tabs on what time it was where you were was just one of the small things he did which meant a whole lot more than anything his money could buy you.

"Yeah everything's good.” Buck stayed silent as you answered, knowing there was more to it. “It’s, um, just that I wish you were here with me."

"Oh darling, I miss you so much. I promise you it won't be long before I see you next." Now it was your turn to remain silent. "Y/N? Please don't cry darling."

“Sorry.” You sniffled, getting yourself worked up over something so trivial.

"Hey, no. Don’t apologise. I have to go really soon love, but I'm not going to hang up until I know you're alright."

"No need to worry about me Buck. I'll be alright." You tried to say as happily as possible, but you knew Bucky would catch on that what you were saying was far from the truth.

"Babe, you know I worry about you constantly." He laughed.

“Like literally ALL the time.” You heard Sam shout in the background, making you laugh.

"Is Sam there?" You asked Bucky.

“Yeah. Y’wanna say hi?”

"Mhm."

"Y/N I can’t deal with this emotional softie anymore." Sam said without a hello.

“Emotional softie? Are we sure we’re talking about the same man?” You teased Bucky, knowing that he most likely had you on speaker phone.

“The bionic-dude right?” Sam made himself laugh and you heard a grunt from what sounded like Bucky punching Sam. You rolled your eyes over their stupid playfulness, before Bucky came back to the phone.

"Yeah, that's enough of that.”

“Surprised you two have kept each other alive.” You laughed to Bucky, eyes feeling heavier now that you’d safely heard from him.

“Barely.” You shuffled again in bed. “Okay darling, I have to go now. As much as I don't want to I'm gonna have to love you and leave you. Just promise me you'll try and get some sleep?"

“As long as you promise to come home for Christmas.”

"I promise."

“Then I promise too.”

"I love you." Bucky just kissed the microphone to make it sound like he was really kissing you. You kissed yours back and you both stayed on the phone for another minute as you wrapped up your goodbye, before you attempted some better sleep.

•••••

Needless to say, when you woke up the next morning you felt awful.

There was still no surprise Bucky waking up next to you. There was a lack of smell on his side of the bed where he should be sleeping. There was no mess on his side of the room or whistling from a silly tune he’d make up.

It was going to be another day without him and with only a few days until Christmas, you were starting to lose hope on spending it with him.

Your scheduled alarm went off at 7am for your morning shift. You aspired to open up your own cafe one day and so you wanted to get the knowledge of how business operates and be able to tackle customer experience first hand. That’s why you worked in Starbucks. You were also taking an online degree in finance and business, to help you for when you open your cafe.

You got ready by putting on your black jeans and the Starbucks t-shirt. You threw on your basic vans and grabbed your bag before going out the front door to work. Starbucks was about a 30 minute walk from your shared house. Normally Bucky would drive you, because that's the gentleman he is, but because he hasn't been here you've been walking to work. It’s mostly a pleasant walk, but you hate having so much time to yourself and your thoughts.

Your manager told you that you'd be managing the shop floor today, meaning you had to give all the employees individual jobs, whilst help make the drinks and also be in charge of the tills’ money. It was going to be a stressful, but worth the experience.

Plus, anything to keep your mind off Bucky and how he was doing

It had been about 2 hours into your shift and you'd managed to get through with no complaints, so you’d given yourself a break. You weren’t feeling hungry just yet though, so you just got a cappuccino and went into the back office for your 20 minute break.

Not even 3 minutes into your break one of the employees came in.

"Hi Y/N. Sorry to disturb you but there's a customer out front who wants a manager to complain to."

This was a reason why you didn’t want to be a manager all the time, because you were really bad for getting upset when someone shouted at you.

"Ok. Thanks Nina. I'll be there in 2 seconds." You wiped your hand around your mouth to make sure there's no froth left behind and then went back out front. "Nina, where are they?" You asked her, as you couldn't see anyone obvious who looked like they wanted to complain.

"Umm..." She scanned the room. "Oh, that gentleman sat by the window over there." She pointed to a man who had his hoodie slightly pulled up and was looking out the window.

Walking over, you wiped your clammy hands on your red apron because as much as you put on a brave face sometimes social interactions gave you anxiety. You took a deep breathe before being prepared to get screamed at. Why anyone would want to scream and shout this close to Christmas you didn’t understand. Where was the Christmas joy?

"Hi. I'm Y/N. My colleague said you had a complaint?" You asked politely.

"Yeah I just wanted to complain that this cup of coffee is not nearly as good as the one that my girlfriend makes at home. So, why is that?" He turned around to you and took down the hood from his head and sunglasses off to look directly at you.

You took a step back, reaching for the counter to support yourself from fainting in disbelief.

Bucky was in your Starbucks making a "complaint".

You covered your face with your hands as you sunk down to the floor crying. You were so shocked that he was actually here that you didn't even know how to act. He laughed at as he stood up from his chair and slowly walked over to where you were crouched down on the floor.

You stood up and looked around to see customers and colleagues smiling and Nina was filming the whole thing. "You knew! Oh for fuck sake!" You cry-laughed, as you pointed at Nina.

"Surprise?"

You just shook your head. You could hear Bucky laughing at the whole situation - a laugh that you'd missed more than you'd allowed yourself to believe.

"Do I not get an ecstatic run, jump and a hug from my girlfriend?" Bucky joked, holding his arms wide open for you to be engulfed in.

"You're a knob!" You joked at him, shaking your head because you couldn't get over he was actually in front of you.

"Sam said you'd say that!"

You slapped your hand on your forehead when you actually realised what was going on. "What the actual fuck? You're really here?"

"I'm worried it's taken you this long to realise it, darling!" His arms were still wide open.

You laughed as you ran and jumped into his warm and loving embrace. You wrapped your arms around his neck and legs around his waist, whilst he wrapped his arms firmly around your waist to support you from falling. You started to cry again whilst inhaling his sweet cinnamon scent. He just smelt like home. "I'm going to have go on missions more often if it means I can surprise you like this!" He said, but you were too busy crying over the fact your best friend was back in your arms.

"You're actually here." You whispered into his neck.

"I am, love. I am right here." He whispered back to you, pressing a multitude of kisses to the side of your face. "I'm always going to be here." You didn't care that he was being the stereotypical smushy boyfriend, right now you were just glad you were back with each other.

You let each other go. Bucky wiped your tears away with the sleeve of his hoodie and kissed your forehead.

"I've still got like 2 hours of my shift left." You said, wondering what he's going to do now.

"Yeah, fuck no. I spoke to your manager and she was more than happy for you to go home early. With me, obviously."

"Really?" Your eyes lit up over the thought of spending the rest of the day glued next to him.

"Let's go home and get some well deserved sleep for a change." He took your hand and squeezed it, just once more for reassurance that he was home with you.

#bucky barnes blurbs #bucky barnes fight #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fluff #finelinevogue ficmas 2022 #finelinevogue ficmas #ficmas

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star-anise · 2 years

Note

You just posted like ten different things about potatoes in the span of maybe five minutes, and I gotta know your take on "The Martian".

Like, the (fictional) man alone on a planet literally only survives because of potatoes shrink-wrapped in plastic for a Thanksgiving meal. If they weren't slated to be on Mars for Thanksgiving, he would have died.

And Andy Weir (author of the original novel) did such a good job with the science of every other element to the story, I honest-to-god believe that potatoes could actually manage to grow in Martian soil (even if that's not been proven for certain afaik).

Which means..... could potatoes terraform Mars into sustaining life??? Are potatoes the key to the universe???

Haha sorry for going so hard on them! Those were mostly all posts from 2020 when gardening and fantasy worldbuilding were lockdown fixations for me. One of them blew up recently so I wanted to give The People more of the content it seemed they were looking for. I don't actually know a lot about potatoes. I just think they're neat.

I do not want to take apart the concept of "colonizing Mars" as some kind of woke gotcha. I want to take your question seriously and charitably. However, I just am the kind of person who's like "Hmm, 'colonize', we should really stop and unpack that word," so let's do that, without forgetting the potato element.

(What "I don't know a lot" means: Potatoes were a crop my family grew several acres of for a few years on our farm before we switched our focus to sheep. I am about 50% as reliable as a horticultural brochure on various potato diseases and growing condition issues. I have listened to two University lectures and read perhaps four historical journal articles beginning-to-end on how the Columbian Exchange affected early-modern Europe, that and half as much again on medieval and early modern European farming practices and population changes, and perhaps three science/history articles specifically on the domestication and proliferation of the potato. I am a white Canadian who actively seeks out information and training in Indigenous history and culture in the Americas, but that's probably still only equal to like, two Native Studies classes in university. I know more than the average person on this topic, but I am also not an expert compared to people who have devoted serious time to learning about this.)

But I have some intuitions in a couple of ways:

The Martian is probably being wildly over-optimistic about its potatoes. They would probably have been irradiated into sterility before being vacuum-packed, and I don't think you can split and propagate them that quickly or successfully. However, potatoes can definitely grow in all kinds of conditions (including under my sink).

They might not be the world's healthiest or happiest potatoes, tho. Soil quality definitely affects the end product. Presumably Watney, being a botanist studying Mars' soil composition, knew how much he had to ameliorate his soil with latrine compost (which would definitely have needed a LOT of processing, since human waste is generally not good for plants, but maybe he used chemicals to speed that up?) to get good soil. However, we would probably need to add a LOT of shit to Mars' soil (and air, and water) for it to host plant life.

Mark Watney makes a joke about having "colonized Mars" because "colony" is Latin for "farm" and he farmed on Mars so haha, funny joke! And we talk about colonies on Mars partly because that's what science fiction did, and a lot of science fiction has been into that colonialism aesthetic. But colonialism and empires actually aren't great, not just because they necessitate huge amounts of racism, oppression, and genocide—I know, you asked me a fun question about potatoes and did not sign up for this, I'm not here to drag you, hear me out—but because they're also really sucky models for agriculture and successful societies generally.

My British ancestors tried to be colonial farmers in a place that is sometimes colder than Mars (Canada's Treaty Six), and let me tell you: IT SUCKED. Most of the crops and herbs and vegetables and flowers that settlers here brought from home and are used to? DON'T FUCKEM GROW. For the Canadian prairies to become conventional farmland, farmers and scientists had to scramble to find, or produce, cold-hardy varieties of everything from wheat to roses. A lot of flowers and plants that are unkillable invasive zombie perennials in other climates don't survive our winters no matter hard we try. The trees and flowers that hold cultural or sentimental attachments for us often don't grow here. The climate is so harsh and population is spread so thin that we cannot do the 100 mile diet and eat foods we're familiar with, and can hardly even manage the 1000 mile diet. (Not that I try, but, my family did once look into it)

A huge number of colonial homesteads, where the pioneers go out on their little covered wagon and build little houses on the prairie? Failed miserably and got bought up by land speculators. My own family came out to Alberta in the 1880s and moved around from land assignment to land assignment, like, six times before settling at their current place in the early 1900s.

Meanwhile: POTATOES

Potatoes are less than ten thousand years old! I am not any kind of expert on archaeology, please nobody throw things, but humans showed up in the Andes (think: high, cold mountains) of South America roughly 9,000 years ago. There are hundreds of wild potato varieties, but they generally produce fairly tiny tubers. It took active work of Indigenous Andean people around 8,000 years ago around Lake Titicaca to cultivate specific strains of potato, doing oldschool genetic modification to make them bigger, more delicious, and hardier. From that cultivation effort around a single species of wild potatoes, they produced thousands of cultivated potato varieties.

Ancient Andean farmers and botanists also played a big part in cultivating quinoa from wild amaranth, as well as producing modern food crops you probably haven't heard of, like oca, olluco, mashua, and yacon, and also coca, which may get a bad rap because it's what cocaine and coca-cola are made from but you cannot deny it's got kick.

Basically, Indigenous people of the Americas (South, Central, and North) went all in on botany and plant cultivation. Plants that we take for granted now have mostly been developed by Indigenous people in the past few thousand years: Tobacco, sunflowers, marigolds, tomatoes, pumpkins, rubber, vanilla, cocoa, sweetcorn, maize, and most kinds of pepper except peppercorn. These things were not found; they were made, by careful cultivation of the world as it was.

This gives us a vision of the future. Colonization, and industrial agriculture, both lean us towards the vision of a totally uniform end product, with the same potato varieties grown on each farm because we have made every farm the same. Instead we could embrace biodiversity and focus on privileging local knowledge and considering the interactions of environment, plants, microbiota, and people. We could create potatoes that were happy on Mars. We could create Mars that is happy to have us. We could create a society that can accept what Mars has to offer.

A lot of why we dream about colonizing Mars is the idea that the Earth itself is dying, that we are killing it, and we need to abandon this farmstead and seek out a new frontier. I acknowledge that shit is bad, but I don't agree with that framing. I am increasingly persuaded that there is a third path between ecological destruction and mass exodus, and I think we need to reject European colonial mentality that creates the forced choice. I find far more use in privileging the knowledge of people who live on and with land than their landlords and rulers, and I especially find value in Indigenous knowledge of land management practices and food production.

I am absolutely not saying that Indigenous people were or are wonderful magical ~spiritual beings~ who frolicked in an Edenic paradise that only knew death and disease once white people showed up. This isn't noble savage bullshit, nor am I invoking people who existed once but whom I have never met. I am saying that I have Indigenous neighbours, colleagues, relatives, and elected representatives. I have learned about mental health, leatherworking, botany, and ecology from Metis and First Nations elders and knowledge-keepers. And like. They have good and useful shit to say.

This is about culture, not race. It is not that their biological DNA means that they know more than me about how to get food from this landscape. It's about cultural history and what we learn from our heritages. What have our cultures privileged? Like, Europe has historically been super into things like metallurgy, domesticating livestock, and creating dairy products. If I want to smelt iron or choose animals to make cheese from, European society would have a lot of useful information for me! And what Indigenous cultures in the Americas have historically focused on instead of cows and copper* include 1) getting REAL familiar with your local flora and figuring out how to make sure you have lots of the herbs and grains and roots and berries you need, and 2) how to make a human society where people can live and have good lives, but do not damage the environment enough to impair the ability of future generations to have the same sort of life.

*Several indigenous American cultures did practice various forms of metallurgy. It's just one of those proportional things, about what societies really go for

Conclusion

I think we could use the processes that formed the potato to find and foster forms of life that could survive on Mars. It would involve learning to think that botany is a sexy science, and understanding just how rich and complicated the environment is. To oxygenate the atmosphere, we'd have to get super enthusiastic about algae and lichen and wetlands. We would have to learn to care deeply about the microorganisms living in the soil, and whether the potatoes are happy.

We'd have to create an economy that counts oxygen and carbon dioxide production on its balance sheets. To learn how to wait for forests to grow back after a fire, instead of giving up in despair because the seedlings aren't trees yet. To do the work now and be hopeful even though we might not see the payoffs for decades, or our victories might only be witnessed by future generations.

So yes, I think we could totally plant potatoes on Mars

But I also think that if we ever got there, we'd have turned into the kind of people who could also save Earth in the first place.

Which makes it a good enough goal in my opinion.

#staranise original #agriculture #potatoes my beloved

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ghostlykeyes · 2 months

Note

dw abt crazy detailed posts, just have fun writing!! i like reading all of them, short or long :D besides goth gfs 🔛🔝

what abt kayn when his goth gf, who‘s usually confident abt her style, suddenly starts questioning herself bc of her parents? n she spiraling, barely participating in band stuff, and even wanting to avoid kayn bc of it all

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

HEARTSTEEL KAYN/ SELF-CONSCIOUS GOTH READER ♡ Gender Neutral ♡ SFW ♡ No TW's

KAYN

At first, Kayn assumes you're just feeling a little off. Who doesn't, every now and then? He tries to help you cheer up the only way he knows how—bothering you. Kayn blows up your phone even more than normal, shows up at your house at all hours to take you out "because he's bored", and is practically glued to your skin whenever you're together. Maybe he's not the best at all that conversation stuff, but his antics will be enough to get you back to your old self...right?

When that doesn't work, Kayn's attitude takes a turn for the worse. He assumes that the reason you're withdrawing is because you're finally fed up with his shit and can't handle him anymore. It's a slap in the face, and he's more upset than he'd like to admit. After all, you were supposed to be different! He would never have let you in if he thought you'd just ditch him.

Kayn does a little spiraling of his own, which obviously makes the situation ten times worse. Surprisingly, he doesn't immediately lash out at you. He's too confused about his emotions to do much other than give you an uncharacteristic cold shoulder. But his bad attitude during rehearsals, general irritability, and the scowl that darkens his face whenever anyone drops your name clues his friends in that something definitely happened between you two.

Thank god for Ezreal, because he just gets it and takes it upon himself to talk some sense into Kayn. He approaches Kayn bringing his favorite energy drink, hoping to give his sulking friend a reality check without getting something thrown at his head. Ezreal listens as Kayn gripes that you must be sick of him or something, but it's whatever, he's totally fine—

"Kayn," Ezreal cuts him off, not bothering to hide his eyes rolling behind his candy-pink sunglasses. "Talk. to. them. You're crazy about each other and it honestly just sounds like they're going through something. You need to be there for them instead of doing this whole hot-and-cold asshole routine."

Kayn grudgingly considers Ezreal's words. Yeah, maybe you could be going through something. But why wouldn't you just talk to him, then? He's still not convinced, and he's still a bit pissy, and he's still dodging your phone calls.

But then you show up to his apartment wearing a beige t-shirt and Kayn knows something is up. The goth baddie he knows wouldn't be caught dead in neutral tones. He snags your hand in his, makes a pit stop at the fridge to grab a can of your favorite drink (he writes it on the grocery list every week to make sure Yone keeps it in stock for you), and drags you into his room.

"Okay, my lil' batty," he sighs, sitting you down on his bed. He squishes your hand reassuringly. "No more acting weird, it stresses me the fuck out. What's up with you?"

Kayn's fuming when he finds out that your parents are putting you down. In his own strange, aggressive way, he gives you a pep-talk about not giving a fuck what anyone thinks. You're awesome and hot, why should you let anyone make you doubt that? He bumps your shoulder with his arm and gives you his signature cocky smirk. "I'm supposed to be the problem, remember? Don't ever let any-fuckin'-body convince you that you're less than perfect."

From then on it's Kayn's life mission to piss the hell out of your parents. Whenever he picks you up from your house, he shows up ten minutes early so he can smoke in the driveway and blast his music so loud it makes the front door rattle in place. He "sneaks in" at night, but always leaves the toilet seat up and muddy boot-prints in the hall so your parents know he doesn't give a shit about your curfew. And, if they have the nerve to confront him about it? Oh, boy... let's just say he has no issues making his opinions known, and he tells them exactly how fucking stupid it is of them to put you down.

Knowing that you're struggling with your confidence right now, Kayn makes extra effort to lift you up. He demands a selfie every day, and blasts you with a hundred drooling emojis and thirsty comments when you flash a peace sign in the mirror and show off your outfit. If he notices makeup or clothes you might like, he doesn't even stop to look at the price tag—straight into his bag it goes. Most of all, he tries to get you to stay with him as much as possible. If your parents are going to pressure you, well then, fuck your parents. You can sleepover at his place whenever you want. If it's privacy you want? He doesn't mind splurging on a studio apartment for you, just so you can have your own space away from your parents' negativity. (Just be warned—if he does pay for your apartment, he's gonna be crashing the place all the time. Make sure you've got his favorite snacks and an extra set of sweatpants on hand, because your couch is basically his second home.)

#heartsteel #heartsteel headcanons #heartsteel x reader #heartsteel kayn #kayn x reader #kayn #kayn/reader #sheida kayn #heartsteel kayn x reader #heartsteel kayn/reader

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masn-mount · 7 months

Note

How about some cute fluff with new bf Jude!! xx

here’s a little blurb, I combined it with another request I got! I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think. xx

1,6k words. no warnings.

"Jude's, please." His name rolled of your tongue before you could even think twice when your friend asked you if you wanted to go back to her place for the night. If you were thinking rationally then you would have taken her up on her offer but you didn't want to spend the night with anyone other than Jude. Ever since you had met him a few months ago it was rare for you to spend a night in your own apartment unless he was in another country playing a game.

"He's probably already asleep, babe." Your friend was right, he had texted you about three hours ago to ask if you were going over to his so he could stay up and wait for you. You had teased him, telling him that you would if he was the one to come and pick you up which ended up in a game of silence from his side for ten minutes before he gave in and texted you to tell you that he would get you back for that and for you to stay safe and drink loads of water.

"I'll wake him up," you frowned looking over at your friend as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. If you once again were thinking rationally then you'd remember that he had played an evening game. You knew he was tired and that he had early training the next morning but that wasn't enough to make you change your mind.

The drive to Jude's house wasn't long and once there your friend followed you to the front door. "I'll wait in the car until Jude let's you in, yeah?", she hugged you before getting back in her car.

You stood there for a few seconds, collecting your thoughts and feeling a lot more sober than before.

Your phone was pressed to your ear and you were humming quietly as you wait for Jude to answer. "Hey, babe. Y'alright?"

"I'm cold," you said, pouting as if he could see you.

"Get inside, silly girl."

"I would if you'd let me in."

"What are yo-," you could hear the rustling of his sheets as he got out of bed, mumbling something about you being crazy for not telling him you were outside the second he had picked up the phone. You wanted to tell him that he was being dramatic but bit your lip. "You're a maniac, you know that, yeah?" You're no longer hearing his voice through the phone but instead you're face to face with him.

You grin up at him, "yes, you always tell me."

"I do, don't I?" His hand reaches out to grab your own so he can pull you inside and the second you walk into his warm home the door is closed behind you and your arms wrap around his neck. You whisper that you've missed him, even if you saw him earlier that morning. "I missed you too, pretty girl. Did you have fun?" You pull away, looking up at him and nod before you press a gentle kiss to his lips. You stand there, kissing for a few seconds before you lean back to tell him that you're feet are killing you. Jude leads you to the stairs so you can sit down before he kneels down on one knee, pulling your heeled foot up onto his thigh so he can start working on untying the laces up your leg. Your hands rest on his shoulders, fingers working against his skin and you remind him that you hadn't been able to give him his post match massage today. The smile on your face makes Jude feel dizzy. "You'll just have to give me one tomorrow." You were too concentrated on looking at his arms and chest to reply, eyes taking him in and wondering how he could possibly be so beautiful and all yours. You knew he had caught you looking at him when he glanced up at you for a second before playfully rolling his eyes. "Stop staring at me," he laughs while pulling up your other foot.

"Just admiring....I love your arms." He shakes his head before turning his head to the side so he can press a kiss to your wrist.

You could tell he was tired, struggling to keep his eyes open and the task he had at hand was starting to make him frustrated. "These fucking heels are ridiculous, how do you even put them on?"

"I think they're cute!"

"Sure they are but they're still a pain to take off."

"Try walking in them all night."

"I'd rather not." He smiled, grabbing your hands and helping you up after managing to finally untie your second shoe. "Can you make it to my room? just be careful and make sure it's my door you open this time, please." He laughs before kissing your forehead, reminding you of that time you had walked into his guestroom and in the process terrified his mum who was trying to fall asleep. Your cheeks warm up at the memory because you were sure it was one of the worst possible ways to meet your boyfriend's mum for the first time.

You tell Jude to shut up and with a pat to your bum you turn around and walk up the stairs. Jude stays back, making sure you make it up the stairs without taking a tumble which earns him an eyeroll from you. "I can walk fine," you tell him and once a few seconds pass he walks to his kitchen to grab a glass, waterbottle, a snack and something to help with your headache he's sure you'll wake up with. Once his hands are full he shuts the light off and makes his way up to his room, looking forward to getting under the covers and continuing his sleep but with you by his side.

Jude is surprised to find you still standing in your dress instead of naked and under the covers. "What's with the sad face?"

"I can't reach the zip."

"Can you do anything without me?"

"Mhmm, but I don't want to."

"That's fair," he laughs and once he's put the items in his hands on the table next to your side of the bed he stops behind you. "You look beautiful tonight, so pretty." He leans forward and presses his lips to the back of your neck and shoulder when your dress is unzipped.

"Saying that as you're undressing me, always so charming, Bellingham." You tease, giggling when he pinches your hip.

"Mhmm, I did tell you earlier too." He was reffering to when you had called him before going out. You called to wish him goodluck before his game but it had ended up with you showing him your outfit and Jude repeatedly complimenting you on how good you looked, earning him a teasing from his teammate he was sitting on the bus with.

"Thank you, Jude," after a few stolen kisses and lingering touches you pull apart.

You put on the shirt Jude throws your way before ending up in his bathroom, sitting on his counter as he helps you take your makeup off. "I wanna sleep, Jude."

"I know, baby but you'll kill me if I let you sleep with your makeup on, just a minute." You knew he was right so you sat with your eyes closed as your hand slid to the back of his neck, nails scratching against the skin as he gently drags the makeup wipe against your skin before applying your moisturizer. The moisturizer he had bought along with your favorite serum and toner so you didn't have to carry them back and forth every day. The gesture may have seemed small and Jude had tried to play it off, telling you that it wasn't a big deal but that along with the purple toothbrush sitting next to his own had almost made you cry.

"All done."

"Thank you, you're too good to me, Jude." You lean forward and kiss him, feeling him smile against your lips as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you off the counter and carrying you to bed. Jude gets in right after you and once he does you make yourself comfortable, head resting on his chest and arm around his waist. "I'm sorry for waking you up."

"No need to be sorry."

"I know you're tired after your game and I show up here, middle of the night...making you stay up to take care of me."

"You're not making me do anything, y/n," he kisses the top of your head, "y'know I want you here and I like taking care of you, I also know you'd do the same for me."

"I'm sorry about the loss."

"Yeah, it was a shit game."

"I think you played really good." He laughed before squeezing your hip.

"How would you know that?" You leaned your head back so you could look up at him, smiling at how he was narrowing his eyes at you. "Do you always just say I play good for the sake of making me happy?"

"We were at this bar for a bit and they had the game on, drama queen."

"I bet you were cheering every time I touched the ball."

"You'd be happy to know I was going to fight a guy for trash talking you if the girls didn't pull me away." He laughed before leaning down, lips finding your rosy cheeks, repedetly pressing kisses to the skin before finding your lips.

"I know you'd beat his ass." You nod, telling him that of course you would before kissing him again and when your eyes start feeling too heavy you lean your head back on Jude's chest as his own head hits the pillow. "I think you're my lucky charm," you're not sure how it's possible but he pulls you even closer to his body.

"I'll be at the next one."

"You won't have a choice."

#jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham imagine #football imagine #football fanfic #my writing #icl dont know how I feel about this but yea #I wanna finish the angsty request I got but my brain is so stuck

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runningfrom2am · 8 months

Text

i'll tell her you stopped by

happy birthday to one of the most talented, intelligent, hard-working people on this planet <3 kezie it is such a treat to get to be your friend and i’m so so glad we met and im just so lucky you picked me! you’re amazing and i hope you have the best birthday ever bc i know you deserve it :)

so, obviously, this one goes out to @keziahcore / @winterrrnight bc i love you so so much

summary: rafe just wants to hangout while you study- is that really a crime? (aka: three times he tried to sneak in while you were studying, and the one time he succeeded... kind of)

pairing: soft!rafe x fem!reader

wc: 1.5k

tags/warnings: soft!rafe (bc ik how much you're a sucker for it kez ;)), highschool!au, established relationship, not much else? idk one mention of teen pregnancy (it's just mentioned, it doesn't actually happen lol) so stay safe out there y'all

a/n: this is doubling as my day seven for obx week bc it is a 3 times/1 time but i'm posting a lil early bc it's my girls birthday :)

masterlists // nav

requests

join my taglist here

One

The first time Rafe tried to sneak in to see you, you were studying in your room. Headphones in, you were absolutely dead to the world as your boyfriend took the classic approach of throwing small rocks up to your window, the stones dinging off the glass repeatedly with no notice from you. He tries calling, again, but your phone is still on silent. You didn't want any distractions- as much as you would have loved to see him, you were busy.

After about ten minutes Rafe is startled by the back door to your home opening, jumping back from the sudden sound.

"Rafe, you gotta go, buddy. You'll distract her. Head home." Your dad says, gesturing to the side of the house for him to go around.

"Yes sir. I, uh, I'll go." Rafe nods at him, giving him a quick salute before quickly heading for the gate.

Your dad sighs with a fond smile on his face, shaking his head as he closes the door again and locking it behind himself.

Two

The second time, a few days later, Rafe was coming to your house with a better plan. Making noise wasn't an option, so he had to be extra careful as he scaled the siding of the back porch, trying to get up onto the roof to reach your window. You shared fond memories of climbing out when he was over, when you weren't busy with exams, sitting on the shingles and looking up at the stars and out at the vast and infinite ocean. However, Rafe had never tried to reach your window from below before.

He made it up, just barely after almost falling no less than three times. He brushed off his knees and stood up, creeping past your parent's window towards yours. He can see you now, your room dimly lit with the flashes from Gilmore Girls playing on your TV and a candle flickering next to your bed as you sit there reading. He smiles to himself, almost there when he hears a window sliding open behind him. "Rafe, honey, is that you? It's late." Your mom whispers and he silently curses himself, quickly turning back to face her as she leans over the window's ledge.

"Hi Mrs. Y/L/N. How are you?" He asks, awkwardly glancing over his shoulder towards your window again.

"I'm well, Dear, but it's too late for you to stop by. Y/N has a test early in the morning, and she needs to focus right now." She smiles sympathetically at him. "I'm sorry."

"No, no, of course. I'll go home." Rafe nods, giving her a quick wave and watching his step as he heads back to the pillar he climbed up from.

"Hey, no, don't climb down that way. You'll fall and break your neck, come in and use the door." Your mom chuckles, stepping back so he can fit inside the window of her room.

"Oh, uh, yeah. Thank you." He says, looking toward the light seeping through your window one more time before climbing in to follow your mom down to the front door.

"I'll tell her you stopped by in the morning." Your mom nods at him, gently closing the door behind him as he says a quick thank you.

Three

Maybe Rafe had been overcomplicating his break-in attempts. He realized as he drove home that night that night was that the one thing he hadn't tried, was using the door. Well, the back door. Which is why he was determined this time for his plan to work. Especially since your parents wouldn't be home. Although, they had told you not to have anyone over.

You had told him earlier in the day that you would be busy that night, and he knew that just meant you had homework. No harm in him joining you, he swore to himself that he would just be silent company, he was more than happy to watch Gilmore Girls again while you went over readings and notes from earlier in the week.

At this point, he knows where to step on your back deck in order to not make a sound. Or, that's what he thought. The light is on in the kitchen, and it's about eleven o'clock- no one should be up except for you anyway. With the first step he took onto the deck, the board creaked and his eyes flew up to the kitchen window to double confirm to himself there was no one there, but he was unlucky today. He makes solid eye contact with your big sister, now standing in the kitchen with a mug in her hand. Your parents must have asked her to stay with you while they were away- despite you being far too old for a babysitter.

There's a solid three seconds of eye contact before Rafe or your sister make a move, but it happens all at once when she breaks his gaze to look at the door, seeing it was unlocked. She looks back at him, and in a split second Rafe is bolting for the door as your sister drops her mug in the sink and sprints for the door, reaching it and turning the lock right as Rafe grabs the handle.

Through the glass she laughs quietly at him, shrugging and mouthing 'too slow' to your boyfriend on the other side of the window.

"Come on, this isn't funny." Rafe groans, pulling at the handle hopelessly.

"I can't let you in. I promised my parents, sorry." She shakes her head with a slight laugh.

"Please? I promise I won't distract her. I won't tell them. Come on." He begs, voice muffled by the pane of glass between them.

She shakes her head again. "Nope, she's not getting pregnant under my supervision. Not happening. Go home, she'll see you tomorrow."

"Ugh, fine. You're no fun, I get it." Rafe raises his hands defensively, stepping back from the door.

"Boohoo, Rafe. Go throw yourself a pity party at Tannyhill." Your sister mocks him, rolling her eyes with a smile and closing the curtain over the door as he sulks away back through the yard.

One

Rafe was so caught up in the idea of a romantic surprise to visit you late at night, throwing pebbles at your window or climbing up to it and letting himself in, even overlooking the idea that hearing someone walk in the back door when you're meant to be home alone may scare the life out of you. Another thing he hadn't tried was just asking you.

"Hey, can I come over later?" He asks you, walking you from his car up to the school.

You look up at him, about to nod before you think about it. "Well, I'd like to hang out but I think I should get ahead on my chem homework." You resign to answering, not pleased with it either.

"We can study together, like a date. Come on, it'll be fun." Rafe insists, slotting his hand into your free one.

"That's what I'm afraid of." You giggle, squeezing his hand gently and swinging them between you. "Studying isn't supposed to be fun, it's supposed to be productive."

"I can be productive." Rafe nods, smiling at you smugly.

You squint at him, unsure of how true that is. You give in anyway. "Okay, fine. I'll unlock the door for you."

"Yes! Thank you, it'll be good. I promise you won't regret it." Rafe smiles, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek before dropping your hand to open the front doors of the school for you.

"I better not." You laugh, shaking your head at him as you pass him in the doorway.

That night, you crept downstairs after your parents had gone to sleep, and as promised, unlocked the front door. Nonchalantly, you walk into the kitchen to make a cup of tea while you wait for Rafe to arrive.

Rafe was already outside, having parked down the block and watching from behind the neighbour's fence to see when your silhouette would come down the stairs and up to the door, remaining only for a few moments before turning and walking towards the kitchen. He gives you a moment before throwing his backpack over his shoulders, and standing up straight ready to head up to the door.

You're just pouring your tea when you hear the front door crack open, quickly turning to go meet Rafe at the door so you can head straight upstairs- curbing the risk of your parents seeing him.

Rafe slowly, delicately closes the door behind him as you walk up, eyes drawn to the small handful of flowers he holds- freshly picked from the neighbour's garden. Your cheeks burn as he holds them out to you, smiling as you take them silently before gesturing for him to follow you upstairs.

Your mother let her book fall into her lap as she listened to hushed giggles and whispers coming down the hall, quieting as they faded away towards your room. She smiled to herself and shook her head, lifting the paper back up once more to continue from right where she left off.

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, @aegons-bitch, @rafegirly, @lovelyxtommy, @thelomlisrafecameron, @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles, @flonkertn,

#rafe obx #rafe imagine #rafe x reader #rafe cameron fluff #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x y/n #rafe x you #rafe fic #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron #outerbanks rafe #obx x reader #obx imagine #obx #obx fic #obx netflix #obx fanfiction #outer banks

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andromeda-nova-writing · 2 months

Text

The Honor of Trying Not to Step on Your Foot

Fem!Reader

Summary: Wriothesley had a habit of skipping out on the more formal events within Fontaine. It was a habit he would not be breaking anytime soon, but he usually tried to at least show up for ten minutes before trying to slip away. Sometimes he would get lucky with something happening at the fortress. Normally he would just send Sigewinne in his place but circumstances at the Fortress require both of them to stay behind unknowing of if they will even show up.

Words: 2,502

AN: It's my birthday week and I choose the self-indulgence fic to post. And sometimes a girl dreams of a dance that never happened. Happy early birthday to me. In seriousness. I used this as a chance to practice writing for Navia.

“So are you here under medical personnel for Fontaine?” Naiva asked as the two of them looked over the selection of macaroons Before them.

“No. They don't invite pharmacists to these soirées usually.” Y/N answered.

Naiva smiled at her downplaying the event they were at. “So you're here with your mother. Some big shot invite the two of you to show off her artwork?” She guessed again.

“Nope. My mom is at home painting for some big shot though.” Y/N laughed at how she could see the wheels turning in her head trying to guess what was going on.

Naiva frowned with worry. “Please tell me you aren't back together with that guy.” She stated with worry thinking about how often Y/N was at events like this during her previous engagement.

“No. That guy could eat dirt for all I care. I cut him off for good.” She reminded her.

Relief washed over her face. “That's good. I was afraid that I was about to talk you out of that relationship for the night.” It was something Navia only brought up cause she knew for a fact that she saw Y/N’s ex earlier when she got here.

“You know I could tell you why I'm here instead of guessing.”

“And take all the fun out of me using my detective skills? No way. It's been a minute since I've seen you. We should have fun with this.”

Y/N laughed. “Okay. Have your fun. Do you want a hint?”

“A small one.”

“I'm here in place of someone in case they can't show up.”

“Did something happen?”

“Yes, but it's not like they enjoy showing up to these events anyway.”

Naiva racked her brain thinking over the details she knew about Y/N’s life. “Are you two close?”

“Yes.” She smiled as she thought of the person Naiva tried to guess.

“Do you work with this person?”

“More of for.” She answered even though it wasn’t fully accurate.

Naiva took a bite of a macaroon to fuel her brain as she thought of why Y/N could be here. “Are you here for Wriothesley or Sigewinne?”

“Both.”

“Both?”

“Mostly for Wriothesley. Sigewinne still may show up. She's excited to see Neuvillette.” Y/N explained. “I got called to show up here last minute.”

“Oh, why's that?”

“Something happened at the Fortress. I don't know the details though. If I wasn't told that I would have thought Wriothesley was just trying to get out of a public appearance again.”

Naiva laughed. “I heard that Charlotte plans on camping out just to get an interview from him.”

Y/N shook her head. “Poor girl. She's not getting one.”

“You have to admire her determination at least.”

“That you do.” Y/N began moving away from the dessert table they were standing at with Naiva following. “So you and Clorinde? How's reconnecting going?”

“It's been going well. We even found a new tabletop game to try out. It's not exactly like old times but it's still good.” She explained. “She even helped me pick out a dress for this evening.”

“Ah, that sounds like it was fun. At least one of you gets to have fun dressing up. Even though Furina isn't in charge anymore, she still ends up having to work on these events. Probably be more enjoyable as a guest.”

“I feel like that depends on the company you have around you during these. Also when you dance cause you want to and not cause you’re being shown off.”

Naiva laughed. “Well, have you gotten the chance to dance yet?”

“I was asked before I found you over here but there’s only one person I really want to dance with and that’s not guaranteed. Plus dancing with someone who demands you use their full title is such a turnoff.” Y/N reasoned.

She laughed. “Well, you are at least doing a great job representing the current administration of the Fortress.”

“Except that Wriothesley likes his title, he just hates just about everything else that title requires of him.” Y/N rolled her eyes. “I swear anytime I hear someone refer to him as “Your Grace,” I think I’m going to go insane.”

“So what do you call him while you are working down there?”

“His name usually.”

“Usually?” She teased.

“Also ‘Ri’. I’ve known him long enough for him to have a nickname for him.”

“I’ve known you longer and I don’t have a nickname.”

“You don’t have a name I had to spend a week to remember how to spell.” Y/N reasoned.

Navia frowned. “I’ll give you that.” She would have to live a life without a nickname from her. Oh well. “So you still want to dance for fun?”

“Are you offering?” She remembered the last time she danced with Navia at one of these events. “Last time you stepped on my foot.”

“It was an accident. How many times do I have to apologize?”

“Until someone steps on my foot worse.”

“Ugh. You know I hope you step on someone's foot one day so you would know how bad I feel.”

“That wouldn't happen though. My mother put me through so many dancing and singing classes as a kid. Such is being a child of a family of artists, I know too many artistic talents even if I won't use them.”

“Well, you should use one of them now. It's either dancing or eating more desserts.”

“Well, will one of my dearest friends care to dance?” Y/N asked with a playful curtsy.

“I would love the honor of trying not to step on your foot.” She accepted mimicking her actions with a laugh.

The two of them moved across the ballroom not taking the dance too seriously. There was the occasional twirl of each other every now and then. It was loose and fun. Their dance wasn’t anywhere as formal as anyone else on the floor. It was something that reminded Y/N how much she missed dancing.

Even though she worked in Fontaine above and the underworld she still had time for her hobbies. Most of her hobbies now had become reading books and being a model for one of her mother’s paintings when she needed a reference—maybe baking as well. However, that was more of a hobby she picked up from being friends with Navia. It was fun to exchange recipes.

It was during one of the times Navia was spinning her that she had flung her right into a person. It happened so quickly that she didn't even see who it was right away. Naiva let out a laugh letting go of Y/N’s hand.

“So sorry.” Y/N looked up at the person she was apologizing to. “You made it.” She moved into a hug which Wriothesley returned.

“I got everything taken care of. I don’t think Sigewinne was going to let me even skip once I told her that you were here standing in for us.”

Navia looked over the two of them. For two people who were supposedly single, their actions said otherwise. She knew their working relationship had grown into a close friendship since Y/N had begun helping out in the infirmary of the Fortress. But even this was too intimate of a hug between just friends with how close they held each other.

She had always kept her business with the Fortress to a minimum. All that the Spina di Rosula helped within the Fortress was supplies and logistics. In the meetings that she had with that man, she found it exhausting to only be improved by good tea. In all her interactions she couldn’t see any similarities between how he usually acted and how he was acting now.

His normally cold eyes were filled with so much warmth as he looked over Y/N. His hands lingered on her as they pulled apart from the hug. They looked as if everyone else here was invading what should have been a private moment.

Y/N turned with a hand pointing at Navia. It was almost like she had only just remembered that she was there as well. “It hasn’t been too boring at all. I’ve been in good company all night. I believe I don’t have to introduce the two of you.”

“Are you two close?” Wriothesley asked.

“My mother did a painting of her parents before they passed. So while my mother got the initial sketches, my grandmother tried to teach us how to cross stitch.”

“You had such a natural talent for it.” Navia thought back on the childhood memory.

“You must be misremembering. I couldn’t thread the needle and I kept picking colors that clashed.” Y/N explained.

Navia laughed. “I still have the little cross stitches we did in Poisson. They have a bit of water damage but it's still proof enough that you did well.”

Y/N shook her head. “It doesn’t matter when you are the one who kept the hobby. You could run circles around me now.” She looked back at Wriothesley finishing the answer to his question. “We don’t see each other too often but we try to keep in touch. Mostly letters in between meetings.”

Wriothesley took his hand off Y/N’s back. “Then I’ll let the two of you be. Maybe I can send you in place of me at these things with Navia here to keep you company. You both looked like you were having fun dancing.”

Navia could see his face fall a bit. Even though he could be annoying to work with he was at least respectful. But holding even the obvious to see cards against his chest was going to hurt him at least emotionally one day. Maybe she only thought that as someone who described even herself as having her heart on her sleeve.

“Actually I stepped a bit weird while we were dancing. It would be best if I rest my ankle for now.” She lied. “You should take my place as her dance partner.”

“Oh, I couldn’t.” Wriothesley tried to turn down the idea. “You two could go sit and talk. The type of dancing I know involves a boxing ring anyway.”

Navia wanted to roll her eyes so badly. Why was he being so dense? Was he always this dense and she hadn't noticed it? “Her mother had her in so many dance classes that I'm sure she could teach you.”

“I wouldn't say I'm so good that I can teach?”

“You downplay yourself. Surely you've known her just long enough to know when she's being hard on herself.” Was it so hard for them to enjoy a bit of romance?

“I don't want to impose. I probably see her more than you anyway. You two should spend time together.” Wriothesley was not even going to have a chance to slip away from this. Events like this just always felt so stuffy to him. His shirt already felt buttoned up too high. He really thought he found a way out of this place.

Navia pinched the bridge of her nose before looking back at the two of them. She mentally apologized to Y/N. “I was told earlier how there was someone Y/N really wanted to dance with. Now she never told me who but I'm sure that wasn't with me.” She crossed her arms before continuing. “You two should enjoy yourselves. Y/N you'll be a wonderful teacher. I'm going to rest my ankle. Now would you please just dance with my friend.” It was more of a demand than a question.

Navia turned away, walking off perfectly fine for someone who said her ankle hurt from stepping wrong. She made a beeline over to where Clorinde, Sigewinne, and Neuvillette were talking. She must have already said something about what had happened as the three of them looked over at Wriothesley and Y/N. They all looked so tired and annoyed by their behavior.

Y/N turned her head to face Wriothesley. “Look, we don't have to dance if you don't want to. I know you would rather sneak away from here maybe find a nice bar and get a beer instead.”

Wriothesley smiled. “You aren't wrong. I just don't fit in here. I mean I showed up with a fresh cut on my face.” He pushed his bangs back showing off the wound that Sigewinne had already closed up. It wasn't anything too deep. Sigewinne even said that he would probably be healed in a day or two. His hand dropped back to his side letting his hair fall back in place.

Y/N laughed. “I was going to say you just look uncomfortable. You usually have your tie so loose. I don't think I've ever seen it on you properly.”

“Looks weird, doesn't it?”

“A bit but other than that cut, I think you clean up nice.” Her eyes wandered to the floor before meeting his again. “If you're going to go sneak out, could I at least walk you to the door? Maybe I could at least help it make it look like you aren't sneaking away and it more like you were needed at the fortress again.”

Wriothesley laughed. The band that had been playing should have stopped their playing so she could have better heard the song that played before her. “Careful. I might take you up on that then you'll never get that dance.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “I should remind her what is and isn’t a private conversation.”

“So do I get to know who you wanted to dance with or was Navia trying to get you to settle for me?” He teased.

“I don’t want to force you.”

Wriothesley took her hand. “And miss out on how happy you looked spinning around in that gown. I think I can survive one attempt at dancing before I try and sneak out.” He pulled her back in close. “Show me how.” He mimicked the positions others were holding their dance partner.

She normally had an easy time meeting his gaze. But this felt all too public knowing how much Wriothesley valued his privacy. Why did she feel so shy all of a sudden? She's made out with the man enough times to where this should be nothing. “Even with them watching?” She pointed her head over to where the group of their friends had gathered.

“They were bound to find out soon enough. I wouldn’t be surprised if Sigewinne already told them.” He let go of her hand and moved it below her chin, raising her head back up to look him in the eyes. “Now would my dance instructor teach me what to do? I’ve managed to avoid dancing at these things as long as possible so I may be a little clueless on this.” “Last chance to try and sneak out.” She warned.

“I’ll take my chances here with you. I could sneak out later if I do really bad.” He let go of her chin and went back to holding her hand.

Y/N laughed. “Then I’ll have to sneak out to comfort you, won’t I?”

#wriothesley x reader #wriothesley #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader

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