#(( since the another one was getting rather long ))

[heartfullofleeches]

Yan Claw Machine Mimic + Homeless Reader

-

"Should I really be doing this?...."

Spending your last dollar on a kid's game. Ever since you parked your car in that vacant lot, it's called to you- Fluorescent lighting beaming down on your dashboard; a beacon of life in the otherwise abandoned and forgotten arcade. How it still powered on in these conditions was beyond you. A greater mystery was the front door's lock or better, the lack thereof.

Broken glass crunches beneath your feet as you shift on your heels, scouting for a prize worthy of your final cent. Squinting through the harsh light, you take notice of another obstacle obscuring clear sight into the box.

A thin film of rusty sludge murks the machine's front facing mirror; impossible to detect from where you resided in your car. Your first guess is rain damage though there aren't any openings in the ceiling from what you can see.

Rolling the sleeve of your hoodie over the ball of your wrist, you spit into the fabric - wiping down the machine to the best of your capabilities. Once finished, you flip your hand over to the other side, drying the window with the untainted portion of your sweater.

"That's better. Now, let's get this over with...."

Soothing out the corners of your crumbled bill, regret itches at your hands; stalling the inevitable.

Winner! Winner! Winner!

"huh?...."

But you didn't even-

Muffled thuds slam against the walls of the prize shoot as your winnings tumbles out. Your outstretched hands shield it from a graceless fall onto a bed of shattered glass, snatching it up in the niche time.

A small white box, no bigger than the apple you had for lunch, stares back at you. Unraveling it red bow and opening the box, it would seem the universe's olive branch to you was more kindling for the neverending mockery of your life.

It's a wallet.

A rather thick one at that, practically bulging at its seams.

"It can't be...."

Peaking into the wallet's sleeve, stacks of paper flutter out - stuffed well beyond the limited storage of the pocket and ready to spill. Stammers of disbelief buzz pass your lips as you card through each bill, eyes growing wider by the second.

"Where'd all this cash come from?! T-there's no way someone would leave this much in a claw machine for this long."

There's no identification, no sign that it belongs to someone else so that means it's yours hopefully. Should you try your luck again? No- This is more than enough. For a stable place to sleep until you got on your feet. New clothes. How long have you been wearing the same clothes?

All that matter in the here and now was filling your belly with something substantial - right after one more thing.

"Thank you..." Scrapping tears from your eyes, you sniffle. You don't even know who you're thanking. "Thank you for this. It's been so hard since my parents... I thought I was doing well enough in college and helping out around the house, but-"

With no-one else to turn to, you swiftly pocket the wallet - throwing your arms around the bulky machine, thanking whoever left it behind. Thank goodness you found it when you needed it most.

Unbeknownst to you, it felt the exact same way.

[salemcantupdate]

Dreams/Loss/Longing

Process and thoughts under the cut

OOOHHHHH BOY, alright, this is the first one I haven’t preprepared much. So the next few days are probably gonna be rough on me! I might come back to all of these pieces after this week is up, since I’m mostly doing all the work in the actual day. Anyways, @andersweek2025

As you can see, I did consider the cannibalism short story, but decided to drop it because I couldn’t come up with a clear concept. Also! ANOTHER POSSIBLE ACCURSED ONES IDEA? Insanity. Clearly I have a perfectly normal obsession. Clearly I focused hard on loss and longing rather than dreams, but you could say that he’s having a nightmare about Karl’s death, or that Karl, having been made tranquil, was cut off from dreams.

But gods I’m getting tired, not really the fault of Anders week though, it’s just… me, really. Haha. Mental health is rough. Anders why don’t you cure me already?

[petermorwood]

I'm surprised to see a How-To like this dated to the 1950s, when I'd have thought rotary dials weren't exactly new tech, but @dduane suggested It might have been because small US communities still relied on party lines and switchboards, where a number, PEnnsylvania 6-5000 for instance...

...was asked for rather than dialled personally, and actually using a dial phone might be an unfamiliar experience.

Oddly enough, this How-To doesn't actually explain how to USE the dial (on another page, probably) so here's how.

UK dial left, US dial right, operating principal the same.

Lift the earpiece or handset, put a fingertip into the appropriate numbered hole on the dial, drag it around to the finger-stop, remove the finger and let the dial rotate back to start position.

(Don't force it, auto-rotation is what sends the number as a series of electrical pulses so forcing it confuses things. Voice of long-ago experience.)

Repeat for the remaining numbers, then speak when the call is answered. End the call by putting the earpiece / handset back in place.

*****

Aspects of outdated but still-in-memory social history fascinate me, partly because they were part of my life though now they seem to be museum exhibits, and also because various details are useful bits of info for fictional world-building.

For instance, in a small town or village it was common knowledge that the switchboard operator - not a government tapper, just a person you or your family might meet every day - could be listening to any phonecall, so sensitive subjects were avoided or worded with care.

Read on.

*****

I grew up with rotaries and the first I ever used - standing tiptoes on a chair - was one just like this wall-mounted contraption, which had been in my Grandad's grocery shop since about 1930, when his phone line was first connected.

Grandad was an earlier adopter. I've got a shop receipt stamp showing the phone number back then, which had only three digits. Numbers in the same town are now eight digits...

The "candlestick" phone (far more common in historical movies and TV dramas) had most of the same working telephone parts, but needed a table or desk to rest on and its connection box with bells mounted on a wall, whereas the wall-mount has this box built-in behind the dial and mouthpiece.

Also, since typical style of use involved two hands...

...if only to brace it on the table (they were top-heavy and could overbalance)...

...it was a lot less convenient for making notes or taking down orders.

NB an interesting little detail in that first photo - a sandglass egg-timer attached to the phone for timing calls.

*****

Writer Side-Note 1: the hooks for the earpiece have a spring. Take the earpiece off and it snaps up to make the connection, put the earpiece back and it drops down under the weight, breaking the connection.

I sometimes wonder (and should probably find out) if early phonership being higher in the US than across the Pond influenced why US light switches work the same way as the phone hook, up for on, down for off. UK / Irish ones are the opposite.

Certainly those hooks are why "pick up" means answering a call and "hang up" means ending it, even if nowadays both are done by tapping an on-screen icon.

Indeed, we still "dial" a number even though actual dials are long gone - unless they've been put back as an app, see below... :->

"Ringing off the hook" suggests a phone so busy that bits of it are jumping off - but also, that it's so busy it won't shut up even when disconnected.

In fact it would shut up if that happened, and gave rise to another phrase which nowadays has a slightly different origin and meaning.

Lifting the earpiece off its hook and putting it to one side without making a call meant anyone phoning the number would get a busy signal. Thus "off the hook" meant "can't be contacted", often with an implication of "doesn't want to be contacted."

Nowadays the phrase owes more to fishing than phones, so "off the hook" means "avoided a threat / got away" - though perhaps there's still a telephonic echo in "isn't caught". YMMV.

*****

Writer Side-Note 2: older phones didn't have a dial. Instead, lifting the earpiece made a connection (indicated AFAIK by a light) at the local "switchboard exchange", indicating that someone wanted to make a call.

The "telephonist" (usual term for working with an office network) or "operator" (usual term for working with a public network) would reply, find out which person (office) or number (public) the caller wanted to reach, and make the connection by hand.

The usual conversation went something like this:

"Hello, caller, which number do you require?"

"Mr Brandybuck's office, please," or "HOBbiton 3-5-7-9, please," or "Bywater police station, quickly!"

"Thank you, caller. One moment, please. Connecting you now... You're through."

The operator could also listen in to any conversation and, at small local exchanges where they weren't too busy and knew one or maybe both callers, they often did.

In fact and fiction this habit made them a useful source of gossip, information and evidence, and callers' awareness of it also meant that any "interesting" phonecall would be framed in guarded or oblique language which might sound a lot more suspicious than it really was.

*****

Whenever a caller in "Downton Abbey", "Peaky Blinders" or whatever rattles the hook of a phone up and down, it's because they're trying to get the operator's attention that bit faster by making the switchboard signal light blink.

Anyone who's pressed the call button on a lift several times to make it hurry up, even when that button's lit to show it's on the way, will know exactly what I mean. However, an old-style phone linked to an old-style switchboard might actually have had an effect. With lifts, not so much.

*****

Rotary phones got a lot sleeker as time went by...

...though they still had spring-loaded switches - those two little black nubbins - to open and close a connection. These too could be jiggled to "speed things up", though by this stage the exchange was usually automated so it was no more effective than prodding lift buttons.

Despite that, "picking up" and "hanging up" remained a fairly accurate description, especially with wall-mounted phones.

This style of phone, or at least their hand-set design, still provides the basis for phone icons in many / most smartphones.

*****

Rotary phones went out of style in favour of push-button designs, including cordless ones...

This carried over to mobile phones, first big...

...then not so big...

...then small, then smart and getting big again...

Smartphones also started with push-buttons before going over to touch-screens, and now what goes around comes around, with apps for those touchscreens to simulate both push-button and rotary phones.

To complete the retro experience there are (or were, anyway) vintage-phone charging docks with working handsets.

Install a rotary-dialler app in this, and it's back to the future.

Especially if there are cradle switches to jiggle so the cell connects faster...

:->

“How to Use a Dial Telephone” 1951.

[anthurak]

"I'd like to hear him out..."

(credit to @phuezo for the awesome art XD)

So here’s a fun little AU concept for the past couple months since Mastermind aired and people started throwing around ‘What if Charlie (or Lucifer) was at Blitzo’s trial?’ ideas:

What if Vaggie didn’t (entirely) lose her wings to Lute’s attack? Meaning that Charlie actually KNOWS that Vaggie is an angel from the beginning. And leading to Vaggie not hiding her identity by pretending to be a sinner and instead be generally open about her past as an angel and exorcist. Which I think could have some rather interesting ripple effects.

Now I realize it might be a bit headscratching how ‘Vaggie doesn’t lose her wings’ leads to ‘Charlie (and Vaggie) showing up at Blitzo’s trial’, but hear me out.

First off, I think the ‘How’ of this divergence is actually pretty easy to imagine; instead of ripping her wings off, Lute decides to inflict a different kind of sadistic torture on Vaggie. Terribly maiming her wings to prevent her from flying, but still leaving her wings to make it clear just what she is. Basically, Lute and Adam fully expect Vaggie to be torn apart by vengeful demons.

But in true dramatically ironic fashion, Vaggie is NOT found by the ‘evil, terrible demons’ that Lute and Adam (and even Vaggie herself) were expecting, but by Charlie Morningstar. And I think we can all agree that Vaggie happening to have a pair of angel wings would NOT meaningfully change Charlie’s reaction to finding her in the slightest.*

Charlie still basically falls for Vaggie at first sight, takes her in and patches her up and gives her a home. And in this version, after it becomes clear that Vaggie’s wings aren’t healing, Charlie also calls in a favor from Uncle Ozzie to design some cool cybernetics/prosthetics to give Vaggie full wing-functionality back. And after a while, Charlie and Vaggie fall in love and start dating just like they did in canon, possibly even sooner/stronger given that Vaggie doesn’t have the specter of hiding who she is from Charlie hanging over her in this version.

And this is where we get to one of those interesting ripple-effects of this change.

Because I think it is VERY likely (as in, I imagine we’ll actually see this come up in the actual show) that Charlie’s belief in sinner-redemption and drive to help sinners in large part came from Vaggie. Specifically in that Charlie believed that Vaggie was a sinner. As in, Charlie falling in love with someone who she thought was a sinner was a MAJOR factor in Charlie believing that sinners could be redeemed and general drive to help them.

Now obviously I’m not suggesting that Vaggie was the only reason or that Charlie wouldn’t care about the sinners otherwise. At the same time, I think it’s a bit ridiculous to assume that Charlie believing the woman she loves was a sinner all that time wasn’t a major contributor to her motivation in ‘making a hotel to redeem sinners’. Or that Charlie knowing Vaggie WASN’T a sinner from the beginning couldn’t put her on a different path…

Basically, this version of events with Charlie falling in love with ‘Vaggie the fallen angel/former exorcist’ instead of ‘Vaggie the human sinner’ ends up rippling out to lead Charlie to focus not on the problems of the human sinners, but rather the problems faced by the hellborn demons.

Say for example; because Charlie knows that Vaggie is an angel, and thus almost certainly NOT bound to the Pride Ring, the pair end up taking a few trips/dates to see the other rings. Particularly given that Vaggie already know Asmodeus.

But in the process of these trips, Charlie starts noticing many of the issues faced by the hellborn demons. Many of which she doesn’t remember from back when her father was running things…

Basically this ties into another theory I’ve had since Mastermind that a lot of the societal issues we see in Helluva Boss are the result of, or at least have been heavily exacerbated by, Lucifer’s long ABSENCE from ruling thanks to his centuries-long depressed isolation. Something that I think Mastermind pretty heavily hints at given everything we see from Satan in that episode. And that at some point, Hazbin Hotel is going to show Charlie having to DEAL with many of these issues as part of her arc of growing into a leader and future ruler of Hell.

And in this version of events, instead of being drawn to wanting to help the human sinners, Charlie is drawn to wanting to help the hellborn demons. Basically, since her father clearly isn’t doing his job, perhaps SHE should step up and try doing it instead?

And of course, Vaggie is right at her side through ALL of this. In fact, she may even be a bit more gung-ho about it, given that it probably feels to her a bit more feasible than ‘redeeming sinners’.

This all leads to Charlie pushing herself not so much into ‘replacing’ her father outright as ‘ruler’ of Hell, but rather starting to assume a kind of regency position. Not full-on ‘ruling’ (yet), but still starting to assume some of the roles and duties that her father has been neglecting for a couple hundred years.

And the fun thing is that nobody is really able to stop Charlie from doing any of this. After all, she IS the princess and heir apparent of the Morningstars, meaning she is well within her rights to assume a number of roles of her father. Particularly as Charlie makes it very clear that she is not trying to outright supplant her father, but is simply assuming duties that he’s been neglecting. To the point of keeping the title of ‘Princess’, or maybe ‘Princess Regent’.

Sure, some/most/all of the Goetia/other nobility might not like a lot of the ideas and goals Charlie is talking about, such as ‘Maybe the Imps, Hellhounds, etc AREN’T actually lesser and born to serve the nobility and shouldn’t be treated as such’, but there also isn’t really anything they can do to STOP her or remove her from her new position. After all, the only one with the authority truly above Charlie’s is Lucifer himself.**

And the nobles who do make a scene and/or pitch a hissy fit about Charlie’s ‘radical ideas’ tend to find themselves at the business-end of her girlfriend’s spear, sword or divinely-mailed fist. Really, in this situation Vaggie is a pretty big fucking deal all on her own, being a fallen angel and all. Certainly NOBODY is going to be judging Charlie on her choice of romantic partner. Well, maybe some sinners might judge her for dating a former exorcist, but any Hellborn demons, even the Goetia? No fucking way. Really, people would probably be making comments on how Charlie is taking after her mother.

Heck, even in the short time since Charlie started this endeavor, Vaggie’s probably earned her own title or two. ‘Blade of the Morningstar’? ‘Wings of the Princess’?

Of course it’s also worth noting that there are still some pretty hard limits to what Charlie can accomplish in terms of fixing/reforming the issues of hellish society, at least in the short term. She can’t just snap her fingers and fix classism or completely wipe out the Goetia’s authority (or the Goetia themselves). Particularly as Charlie doesn’t have the ultimate overriding authority of her father. Realistically, Charlie’s authority as Princess/Regent only just supersedes that of any of the Sins, and while that might put her above effectively ANY other one person in Hell, it also doesn’t give her absolute ‘do anything I want’ authority either. Not to mention that this is still Charlie we’re talking about, who in this timeline is still only JUST getting use to throwing her authorial weight around.

But at the same time, again there really isn’t anything anyone can do to fully STOP Charlie from doing anything either. Meaning that in the short time since assuming her new role as regent, say about a year or two, Charlie has already started making small but noticeable changes and ripples to Hell’s society.

Which brings us to this new version of Mastermind, with Charlie and Vaggie making a surprise appearance at Blitzo’s trial and Charlie actually wanting to hear the imp out. This leads to a number of other fun changes including but not limited to:

Charlie invoking both ‘Princess Regent Authority’ and ‘Favorite Niece Privileges’ to get all of the Sins voting on her side to hear Blitzo out and override literally all of the Goetia royalty.

Andy-the-not-actually-a-sister-fucker pitching a hissy fit over this and getting choke-slammed and almost speared by Vaggie.

Blitzo still finding a way to fuck up this golden opportunity by running his mouth. Because this is still Blitzo we’re talking about, and giving him a chance to talk is ALSO giving him a chance to dig himself into a deeper hole.

Stolas choosing the exact worst (and funniest) moment to dramatically burst in with his big, dramatic ‘sacrifice myself for the man I love via song number’ gambit, which actually only makes things worse/wackier when Charlie starts asking pertinent questions.

Andy pitching more hissy fits as his plans continue to unravel and getting repeatedly chokeslammed and/or kicked in the dick by Vaggie.

Striker getting dragged back in when it becomes clear there are a LOT of holes in his story, only to constantly flip-flop on his story because he can’t figure out which authority figure(s) he should be selling-out-to/kissing-up-to in order to save his own skin.

Charlie, Vaggie and even Satan becoming ever more flabbergasted as it becomes clear that the suspect (Blitzo), prosecution (Andre), defense (Stolas) and witness (Striker) in this trial are in fact ALL complete fucking idiots.

--

*Admittedly I do have one other possible change in mind to help reinforce this: rather than a sinner child, Vaggie actually spares an imp kid, or perhaps a sinner child and their imp kid best friend. Which leads to the imp kid actually leading Charlie to the injured Vaggie and also telling her that this angel actually helped them and got hurt doing so.*** Which again serves to reinforce just how wrong Adam and Lute and much of heaven are about demons.

** And if you’re going to ask ‘Why doesn’t Charlie just go to her dad directly and get him to do his job?’, remember that Charlie had to be practically dragged kicking and screaming by her girlfriend into calling up Lucifer for help in Hazbin. I think it’s pretty clear that pre-Hazbin, if Charlie can get what she’s after without getting her dad involved, she is ABSOLUTELY going to do it.

*** Also this hypothetical imp kid doesn’t actually show up again and DOES in fact have a living family, meaning that NO, Charlie and Vaggie DON’T ADOPT THEM. Because I KNOW that is exactly what some of you started thinking when I mentioned an unattended child in relative proximity to our heroines.

--

And of course, once again HUGE thanks to @phuezo for the awesome art of Charlie and Vaggie XD

[dailymanners]

It's Tuesday, and it's been a few weeks I think since my last Off Topic Tuesday, so I want to take the opportunity to talk about something very near and dear to my heart: the bidet.

I am an unapologetic bidet enthusiast. I strongly believe bidets to be superior over toilet paper alone.

Bidets are more eco friendly. People bring up the water usage as an environmental concern, however, bidets actually use less water than the amount of water it takes to produce toilet paper. As the article points out “It takes 37 gallons of water to make just one roll of toilet paper.” (Producing one roll of toilet paper also requires approximately 1.5 pounds of wood.) In contrast, using a bidet only consumes about one pint of water."

Also pointed out in the article: it's more hygienic because your hands are less likely to come into contact with your waste.

And also pointed out, it's (generally) gentler on the skin to use water rather than to scrape yourself repeatedly with dry paper.

And honestly, you just *feel* fresher and cleaner than when you only use toilet paper.

One thing I take issue with in this article is that it makes the sweeping generalization that "Europe uses bidets". Which, honestly, to me seems like bidets are mostly common in southern Europe, and outside of southern Europe their usage is hit or miss.

I know for a fact that Finland is the only Nordic country where bidets are widely used and common in most households. It was actually briefly living in Finland that made me a bidet convert. I still favor the Finnish style of bidet and find them to be superior to the other types, mostly because the Finnish style (a hose attached to the sink) allows more maneuverability than the kind that's built into the toilet seat (more common in east Asia) or the kind that is a separate bowl next to the toilet (more common in southern Europe).

But outside of Finland, bidet ownership and usage is scarce to nearly non-existent in most of the rest of northern Europe. When I came back to Iceland I scoured every hardware and housing goods store I could find, and none of them had a bidet, so I had to order my bidet online.

So no, as a whole not all of Europe uses bidets. Mostly southern Europe, and outside of southern Europe a few places here and there, like Finland.

However, I hope that can change, and more people can see the light when it comes to bidet ownership. Everyone I know who I've talked into using and/or buying a bidet has thanked me, even if they were apprehensive at first.

If you think of bidets as gross or weird, think of this: if you got some of your waste on your arm while you were in the bathroom, would you just wipe it off with paper and call it good? Or would you actually want to wash that off properly? Why should your nether regions get inferior treatment from the rest of your body?

Or, another example taken from a text I had to read in a French class in secondary school that was supposed to open our minds about the foreign concept of using a bidet: imagine you're staying at a hotel in a foreign country, and after a long day you want to take a shower. However, there is no shower in your hotel bathroom. You walk up and down the hallway looking to see if there is a shower anywhere on your floor and you find nothing. So you go to the front desk and ask the receptionist where the shower is, to which they give you a weird look, maybe they have to suppress laugh, or maybe they look grossed out at you even suggesting you want to take a shower with water. They explain to you that there is dry paper in your bathroom, and all you need to do is wipe yourself down with the dry paper (your pits / hair / etc.), and that having a shower with water isn't considered necessary here. How would you feel?

[lovesickchoi]

PROMPTS -

“i have sex with you alot in my head.”

“don’t go on that date”

PAIRING - soobin x reader

GENRE - smut

WARNINGS - friends to lovers, riding, lowkey switch!reader and switch!soobin

WC - 1.2k

the passive aggression in soobin’s voice when you told him you had a date tonight was unmistakable.

“maybe this one won’t be a total failure,” he spoke, not giving you so much as a glance up from his phone.

your head craned to look at him next to you on the couch, his own eyes still trained on whatever he was doing on his phone. he wouldn’t dare look up at you, for he knew your ears must’ve been red with anger. but soobin didn’t care—at least he didn’t want you to think he did.

“what the hell is that supposed to mean?” no answer. “hello? earth to soobin?”

throwing his phone onto the coffee table, he slowly turns his body to face you like it was the most difficult task in the world. “what do you want me to say?” he says, shrugging with his hands.

“you act like this every time i tell you i’m going on a date. can’t you maybe, i don’t know, be a supportive roommate for once?”

soobin rolled his eyes at your words. it certainly wasn’t the first time you two have had this conversation. “don’t even start. i’m always supportive of you. all i’m trying to say is that you keep going on dates with shitty guys and they never turn out successful. why can’t you just focus on yourself for a while instead of always having to see someone?”

“you say that as if you don’t hook up with strangers every chance you get,” you spit back at him, furious with what he was saying.

“i know that! but at least i’m self aware.” soobin hated the way your eyes noticeably filled with tears when he spoke.

the truth was soobin did care. in fact, he cared so much that his feelings for you would often times blur the lines between best friends and something more. you were right about his abundant hookups—which you had to endure as soobin’s roommate—but what you didn’t know was that they were a mere distraction from the fact that you were always dating people who weren’t him. soobin longed for the day he could finally be the one taking you out.

soobin knew he must’ve struck a cord the way you wouldn’t meet his eyes anymore, choosing not to fight back. he hated himself for it. he hated the way he took his frustration out on you. it wasn’t your fault, he knew that, and yet he let to start walking away from him.

wiping a tear aggressively from your eye before it could drip down your cheek. you stood up and brushed your pants off, doing your best to keep your cool. “well if you’re done telling me how to live my life since you’re such a saint,” silence ensued. not a word from soobin. “i have to go get ready.”

you eventually vanished into your room, hesitating at the door frame momentarily. maybe a part of you had hoped soobin would have more to say deep down. but your shoulders dropped in disappointment seeing he hadn’t left his position from the living room.

this wasn’t even the first time you and soobin had it out like this. different dates and hookups coming in and out of you and soobin’s rather small shared space made it hard to keep your personal lives private. you’d begun to think it had become a competition of some sorts.

the two of you always too busy playing roommate with one another, you both ignored the obvious sentiment beneath your frustrations. it was truly agonizing for you both, yet somehow you’d convinced yourselves it was easier this way.

and so, with every last ounce of hope drained from you, you finished throwing yourself together for your date. perfect mini skirt and blouse, perfect makeup, perfect hair. everything perfect except the frown that stared back at you in the mirror.

you were praying that soobin had been hiding away in his room as you made your way through the apartment. grabbing your coat, your purse, and your keys, you believed you were in the clear opening the front door.

that was until an out of breath soobin seemingly out of nowhere slammed the door shut. his hand rested against the door above your head as he towered over you, chest heaving from his sudden movement. “don’t go on that date.”

you look up at him in disarray. “soobin i’m not having this conversation with you again.”

“no, you don’t understand. i dont want you to go on that date.” he looked more serious than he’d been before.

you crossed your arms over your chest. “and why shouldn’t i?”

soobin opted not to give you a verbal answer. instead, he hooked an arm around your waist, spinning you so your back was now flush against the door. his other hand protecting your head as his bent down to kiss you.

and he really kissed you. like this would be his one and only opportunity to do so. soobin’s eyebrows scrunched with emotion, savoring the feeling of your soft lips on his despite you not having kissed him back.

you didn’t believe this was actually happening. it felt like something out of a movie. and after so many terrible dates and relationships, you were starting to believe something so good wasn’t meant for you.

but feeling soobin beginning to second guess himself and pull away brought you too your senses. hell—this was everything you wanted and more.

feverishly, you dropped your purse and coat off your shoulders. reaching up to grab soobin’s face in both your hands, your forced his lips to stay on yours.

you could feel soobin relax against you, smiling into the kiss. in one quick movement his hands were underneath your thighs and lifting your legs around his waist. you finally allowed your lips to part, tongue meshing so needily with his. you wanted this just as bad as he did.

you wanted nothing more than to continue kissing his perfect lips, but something in you needed to hear his voice to ensure once again that this was real. gripping his hair, you pull his face away from yours. he groaned at the feeling which left you all too excited.

“and what the fuck is this exactly?” you mutter quietly, only half joking.

soobin chuckles, his boyish dimples making an appearance. “this… this is the reason you cant go on that date. i’m done playing pretend with you. i’m done acting like i’m not in love with you. i’m done watching you go on dates with these guys who won’t treat you half as good as i would.” he pauses, releasing his hold and letting you stand on your own now. “i’m done fucking random people and pretending that they’re you.”

you’re not exactly sure how you both got there, but before you know it soobin had you stripped down to nothing but your undergarments. you straddled him on the living room couch, only his boxers and your underwear separating you at this point.

soobin’s hands feverishly ran across your body. not an inch of your skin would go untouched by him. soobin sat back in disbelief watching you take total control. it was better than anything he’d imagined.

you hiss at every roll of your hips, feeling his length pressing hard against the soaked spot of your underwear. you pressed sloppy kissing across his neck, taking in his sweet scent. soobin didn’t think he could be anymore addicted to you as he traced his fingers across your skin.

“you know,” soobin speaks up. his words slurred as he could barely focus on anything other than the way your cleavage spilled out of your lacey bra, grazing against his bare chest with every roll of your hips. “i have sex with you alot in my head.” he smirked up at you, eyes so fucked out behind his tousled hair.

you could literally feel your ovaries twitching at his words. if only you or him had been bolder to make a move sooner. “well it’s about time you got it out of your head,” you whisper, pressing a last kiss to the base of his throat.

you stood up momentarily, urging soobin to lift his hips so you could pull his boxers down with his help. finally coming back down to straddle him again, you shiver feeling him pulling your underwear to the side. his fingers were slender and cold to the touch, and you wanted nothing more than to ride him right then.

soobin falters for a moment, hearing a slight buzzing coming from your purse. it was your phone ringing persistently. he couldn’t ignore it. soobin tried to catch your gaze, but you were too fixated on where your hips were about to meet his.

“i’m pretty sure that’s your date calling wondering where you’re-“ you didn’t soobin finish his words as you sat yourself all the way down on his dick without warning. “fuck!” he yelled, gripping your hips for support.

you wrapped your arms around his neck wasting no time to ride soobin at an even pace. “oh my god,” you whined out. “you’re so fucking big soobin.”

soobin let out a throaty groan hearing your words. he watched you bounce so effortlessly in both pleasure and disbelief. your lewd moans mixed with his filled the room—your shared apartment. the place where you’d both been dancing around what you truly desired. eachother.

some time went on with you both like this, and soobin enjoyed watching you get yourself off at his expense. but all the times he’d imagined finally getting to have you how he liked, this was not it.

he suddenly gripped your ass, halting your movement completely. “binnie please,” you whined out, trying desperately to fuck yourself against him some more. soobin twitched inside of you at the nickname and your neediness.

“fuck, princess.” he spoke lowly, wiping some of your sweat-matted hair from your forehead. it was a sweet gesture that made your heart race even more, if that were possible. “i’m sorry, but this is not what my first time fucking you looked like in my head.”

soobin left you no time to response before lifting you and placing your back gently on the couch where you could lay down. he eagerly laid on top of you, pressing your knees into your chest so your legs were now resting over his shoulders.

soobin glanced over your body in absolute awe. “been dying to see you all spread open like this for me,” soobin basically moaned his words. seeing your leaking folds so up close and how easily bendable you were for him. it was enough to make him lose it.

“finish the job, binne,” you tease him, running your own fingers over your clit. that was all it took for soobin to begin slamming into you repeatedly. this position allowed him to have total control over you, unlike before. he trapped your body beneath his weight, hitting the right spot just perfectly with each thrust.

he rested his lips against yours as he fucked you into the couch. profanities spilling from him the closer his was, naturally pulling you nearer to the edge yourself. “i’m gonna cum so fucking hard,” you moan, almost as a warning. soobin could tell by the moans escaping your lips and the way you clawed at his biceps, begging to come undone.

he went in and out of you at an electric pace. he was persistent, and wouldn’t let up until he knew you were satisfied. eventually, all at once, a white hot orgasm overtook every ounce of your being. your body shook against soobin’s, calling out his name in a string of whiney moans. this was enough for soobin to arrive shortly after you—the tears prodding at the corners of your eyes, the tinted pink of your cheeks, the way your mouth remained slighly open even after you came. slow, high pitched breaths leaving your lips from the overstimulation. how could he not cum after that sight?

pulling out, begrudgingly so, soobing finished on your stomach. he groaned feeling your hand reaching down to finish him off, helping him ride out his orgasm. he couldn’t help but think how perfect you were for eachother. he released your legs slowly, massaging your sore hips from being held up for so long.

“that was long overdue,” soobin is the first one to break the silence. he felt butterflies erupting in his stomach at the way you laughed at his joke.

“i couldn’t agree more.” you smiled, reaching up to kiss his lips softly this time. your stomach begins to growl at your sudden movement, and you realize how hungry you’d been this entire time. “you know,” you chuckle, playing with soobin’s hair. “i was technically supposed to be eating dinner like an hour ago.”

a huge smile makes its way across soobin’s face. “let’s get cleaned up. and go put something nice on. i’m taking you on a real first date.” he pecks your lips once more and pauses before saying, “also your last first date.”

[jedisupernova]

reuniting with seong gihun

notes minors dni contains fem aged up reader (same age is gihun), always written with plus size reader in mind as i am myself but truly anyone can read, takes place in the midst of his pursuit of finding the salesman, ANGST (self deprecation, selfishness, mentions of hardships, death, failed relationships, suppressed emotions, mentions of infertility, includes arguments; this does not have a happy ending), dynamic between reader and gihun is childhood friends who reconnect in later adulthood, some made up lore to build said dynamic, mentions of nightmares, violence, smoking, sickness, slow burn maybe? i'm trying something new, and smut (mutual masturbation) after trusting someone for the first time in a long time mends part of his soul, but for how long, and at what cost?

requested? no, this is an original idea! i can't be normal about anything and how underrated he is in his own show is diabolical. anyway this one is long. please request something if you'd like or stop by the ask box or dms to say hello! i love a man with big brown eyes whose real good at looking sad. enjoy!

you always looked forward to every other saturday because it meant you had the day off. you took this time to sleep in before heading to nearby markets for your weekly grocery run. it was right after lunch time that you were perusing coriander so fresh you could still see water droplets on its leaves. just before you were to ask the older woman who ran the stand for the price, a familiar face swept past your peripheral vision.

you looked over your shoulder, seeing a man dressed in an unzipped jacket and talking rather quickly into his phone. he looked around the street corner like he was lost, a passing car letting you hear only fragments of what he was saying: "—station? which one?" you were about to return to your business when he faced in the direction of your gaze entirely. you hadn't seen that face in years . . .

he hung up the call, now typing with fervour. without thinking, you started walking: "gihun? seong gihun?" your voice was soft, approaching him with an air of caution you couldn't explain. he looked up, face tense with something beyond stress. "yes?" "it's me." you said your name. "we—we went to grade school together? my ... my parents owned a shop just down the street from your mother's." why did every syllable feel more embarrassing than the last, and why did your voice get quieter with every word? you were certain that you were looking at the gihun you grew up with—who could forget those distinctly emotive brown eyes, or those ears that stuck out and were made fodder for incessant teasing from your classmates? but gihun's expression didn't move an inch, his eyebrows knitted together in the slightest of confusion. but it was merely momentary, because when you were uttering apologies, his eyes widened with belated realization. "yes," he thought aloud, his tone was still oddly serious. "i taught you how to tie your shoes."

your expression blossomed into utter elation, lips separated in shock. he so casually swept the dust off of a shelf of memories you forgot even existed, making you mentally regress to that afternoon during p.e. who knows how many years ago. "y-yes!" you nodded. "i wore velcro shoes until i was eleven!" another memory came to the forefront: "we used to trade cassettes during lunch! we argued so much over the british ones. who was it again? david bowie and—" "—duran duran." said gihun. "duran duran!" you repeated, beaming. "oh my ... when was the last time i listened to them." you pondered aloud.

warmth crept onto your cheeks, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth: "i remember you and sangwoo styling your hair like theirs." a breath left his lips, chest tightening, his eyes betraying him as they quivered in abrupt grief. "you wore so much hair gel it blinded me in study hall. i wonder where sangwoo is now. i haven't heard much since he graduated from snu. are you still friends today?"

your question was objectively harmless. there was absolutely no way for you to have the faintest clue of the atrocities gihun's been forced to witness; the painful guilt he carries; the nightmares that carve the abysses underneath his eyes; the debilitating anxiety that fills his head with endless noise even in the eerie quiet of his deserted motel. he nods, forcing a tight, small grin. "we did stay friends." he says bravely, his eyes looking more familiar than ever.

the genuine smile you give in return was added to his self-anointed list of reasons why, at the end of his life, he would not die a peaceful death. it was another thing he would laboriously mewl over in the afterlife, looking up at the rest of the world, shackled to the deepest, darkest pits of eternal regret.

"that's good to hear." you say. "how're you doing, hm? you've cleaned up well from when we were in our twenties." you quipped playfully. through the scattered shells of his soul littered throughout his body, his innocent self was still somewhere in there, because he subconsciously looked for an out to ease his internal tension, letting out a chuckle at your remark. those vibrations in his chest felt foreign after these past two years, but that murky remnant of his past self welcomed the change, no matter how minute it was. "i've been better." he responded.

"yeah?" you asked. "if it makes you feel better, i'm glad i ran late today. because i got to see an old friend after a long time." gihun glanced at either of your hands—no ring. "have you met anyone?" he asked. you nodded, understanding what he meant. "i did." you say. "he left me when the doctor told us i couldn't carry." your eyes widened, unsure of why you were suddenly so honest. "i don't know why i just—" "i'm so sorry." gihun cut you off. his hardened expression turned shocked, even appalled. you recouped, wanting to look past this: "it's okay." you shake your head, metaphorically dodging the memories of your marriage counselor telling you to not 'to deny your own personal wounds as it'll seep into the companionship.' "it was a long time ago, gihun. how about you? did you meet someone?" he nodded, sympathy glistening across his retinas. "we separated shortly after our daughter was born."

"seong gihun, a father?" you grinned. "anything's possible." the ringing of his phone diverted both his and yours attention away. "i'm sorry for keeping you. you looked like you were in the middle of something—" "no, no. it's fine," gihun shook his head. "here, give me your number. i'll call you." he didn't know why he did it. he failed to stop himself declining the phone call from the loan shark he hired to head the search for the salesman, let alone handing you his phone to type your number in. was the impulsiveness of his past self also crystallized, emerging at this very moment? his discreet vow to blend into the shadows seemed to have crumbled in these past five minutes, giving in to his complex feelings: your sweet demeanor made him feel like a normal human being, and he wanted more of it. for the first time in a long time, seeing someone from his past didn't end in complete anguish. or perhaps it was the gleam of sadness that washed over your eyes as you spoke of your ex-husband, inflating his subconscious savior complex. even so, after you exchanged polite goodbyes, walking off in different directions, he mentally kicked himself for compromising your safety concurrent with unabashed intention of calling you that very evening. through any stage of his life, through the gambling and the scheming, it seemed selfishness remained his kryptonite.

for you, it was a hell of a lot to take in. at some point, it felt as if a prank was being played on you. it was one thing to offer sincere condolences for his late mother, or be sorry that his daughter lived so far away. but ... children's games that ended in murder? masked guards with triangles, circles, and squares hiding their faces? a handsome, well-groomed man that tenderized his face over a game of ddakji, in the middle of a train station? sure, you would miss a lot of someone's life after not seeing them for nearly three decades. but ... but this? it was properly outlandish. crazy, even. but over that hushed dinner, sat in a corner booth, the scent of sizzling samgyeopsal on the grill increasingly nauseating, it was too detailed to be a lie. he pleaded nonverbally for you to believe him—through the desperate glossiness of his eyes. you affirmed your belief in the same wordless manner, visibly nodding. you almost threw up when he handed you a business card, the three aforementioned shapes on one side, a random assortment of numbers on the back.

gihun brought you to his motel that same night, barren and lifeless besides white noise of the warm-toned, aged ambient lighting on the first floor and the tinkering of various ceiling fans with rusted hinges. you took in the six monitors mounted on the wall in front of his bed, equipped with live block-to-block security camera footage of his immediate surroundings, the metro transit map tabbed meticulously, and the calendar with past dates crossed out in thick red marker, pages of months previous mixed with takeout containers lodged in the corner trash bin. you quietly followed him upstairs, seeing his hidden stash of weaponry as he explained his recruitment of underground crime groups he's known since his gambling days. you didn't utter a word, not even when you lastly saw the mountain of cash stacked on a random bed in a random room. it stared at you as you did it—blankly.

he broke the silence. "this is where i've been these last three years." he said. he turned to look at you. "i ... i understand that it's a lot." his voice grew quieter. he swallowed, feeling shame brewing in his chest. "i just—i just felt like telling you. i don't know why. i understand if you don't want to know me—" "—i want to help." you said. his eyes widened. "what?" "i want to help you, gihun." you looked at him. he was bewildered. he shook his head, dumbfounded. "no, i think you misunderstood—" "—i did?" you cut him off. "you brought me here because i believe your story, didn't you? what did you expect then, exactly? for me to take my conviction away, like you say those masked soldiers did to those people who didn't stand still enough, or broke their dalgona? you tell me all of these crazy stories, your pain is so visceral that it makes me nauseous with guilt, and you want me to walk away? huh? what is it, then? what did you want!?" you hadn't anticipated your voice to rise, but were yelling by the end, your irritation stuffing the room.

he took your verbal berating silently, avoiding eye contact and shoulders lowering. "i don't ..." his voice trailed. "i don't want you to get hurt." "you gave up the right to protect me when you gave the impression sangwoo was still alive." you spoke firmly, voice now leveled. a breath of defeat slipped through his teeth. "you should've never called me." you said. "you should've done what everyone does: offer to get lunch to be polite, but never actually do anything. you shouldn't've called. i shouldn't've answered. i shouldn't've have shown up tonight, and i should've walked away the moment you started talking. you've given me no choice but to stay."

the silence was deafening. he looked up upon hearing the skid of your shoes against the floor, coming face to face with your softened expression. it was strangely disarming, feeling goosebumps travel up his spine."you were rid of me for thirty years. it's only right we make up for lost time." you said. his gaze didn't falter. it was his turn to affirm his belief of your wordless plea. he nodded, "okay."

you stopped by the motel in the early morning before work, listening to him comb through whatever new strategy he was going to run by his men that day ("what do you think? does this sound efficient?") and in exchange for making you miss your train, he drove you to work before parking at his usual spot. his guilt of bringing you into all of this felt stronger some days than others, showing in your not hearing from him for a couple days at a time. until you squashed that like a bug, dialing him in the middle of your lunch break: "... hello?" "why haven't you called me?" "i ... i've been busy." "you don't have time for a one minute phone call? thirty seconds?" "no, no. that's not what i meant—" "—i'm coming to the motel tonight."

and like clockwork, at nine pm, you showed up on the security camera. his phone vibrated: I am outside. when he unlocked the door, you walked past him without uttering a word, b-lining to his room. he did not immediately follow, purposefully hovering at the entrance after locking it back up securely. he walked with a lowered head, peering into the doorway some moments later. he was taken aback by the sight of you unloading your tote bag, nose tickled with the scent of freshly brewed stew, steaming rice, and side dishes. "i've brought tupperware. you're not eating takeout anymore." you don't look at him, hanging your bag on the back of a chair after fishing out utensils, sitting down with a small huff.

you looked at him. "are you not joining me?" gihun walked into the room, but fell short of sitting down at the table. "how long ... how long have you been cooking?" he felt stupid for asking the question, but the gesture left his mind blank. he felt atomically undeserving. "i got off work early." you responded curtly, plating your food. gihun didn't say anything, making you look up at him again. "it's going to get cold, gihun." your softened tone gave you what you wanted, watching him sit down across from you with muted satisfaction. you ate together in silence, nothing but the gentle clattering of plates and a quiet "thank you" when passing dishes rivaling the white noise of the air conditioning.

"from now on," you started, bringing your bowl to your lips, finishing off the last of your serving of stew. "you will update me everyday. i will bring food for us. if you forget about me, i will haunt you in the afterlife." "understood." he muttered, avoiding eye contact, pretending to look for a piece of meat in his stew, ignoring the one showing itself plainly on the left side of his bowl. his bottom lip quivered; he tightened his mouth. his arms started feeling weak; he inhaled sharply through his nose, tapping his foot under the table. but then a ragged breath rattled out of his diaphragm, his shoulders shuddered, and his vision went blurry; he was a goner. he sobbed into his hand. it sounded a lot like a coughing fit, so you initially thought the food hadn't gone down smoothly. but his defeated, muffled mewls into his palm and sunken shoulders said otherwise, sending you to your feet.

gihun instinctually turned towards the feeling of your hand on his shoulder, crying into your stomach. his hands pulled at your jacket, making you stumble, but you caught yourself. "f-forgive me, please. i won't be able to live with myself. i haven't been able live with myself for a long time." you looked down at the top of his head, unsure of what to do. you brushed his hair back with your fingers—not sure if it was crossing a boundary, but it felt wrong to just stand there—he only cried harder, arms wrapping around your waist, holding you so tightly as if you were a lifeline. "you—you make me feel normal." he said, breathing in short gasps. "after all the sins i've committed, you've—you've shown me atonement is possible." he lifts his head, eyes reddened, cheeks wet. the imagery of the moment was almost religious; if you listened closely, a distant artist began hammering at a marble slab. "b-but i'm not deserving of mercy." he shook his head, his hands coming together, visibly pleading. "leave me. i've hurt too many people. i can't hurt you next."

you wiped his tears. "you already hurt me when you didn't call." you said. "you already hurt me when you pretended sangwoo was alive and well." you reminded gihun, his head sinking in shame. your hand traced his jaw, lifting his head to look up at you. "you don't get to hurt me again by acting like you're alone in this." your voice faltered to a whisper. gihun's fingers ghosted over your wrist. "listen to me—" "—no, you listen to me." you cleared your throat. "we met that saturday for a reason. you let me in tonight for a reason. we're sharing a meal for a reason. stop lying to yourself." you said. "i can handle myself. i've been through a lot. i don't know how many sins you've committed, but even the devil gets a second chance. you should know, you've looked down the barrel of his gun."

gihun tsked. "save your prayers, gihun. just let me have the peace of knowing i'm helping a friend." he sucked in a shaky breath, sinking his face into his hands. "what have i done?" he whispered. "no one deserves to be alone as long as we both have." you retort. silence fills the room, making way for the words to settle into his psyche. goosebumps arise along his spine at the return of your fingers brushing his hair back. you take a step forward, his forehead brushing against the same place he wept on seconds before. "the least i could do is stay," you spoke quietly as if someone would overhear, even if you two were alone. "even if it's for a little while." as embarrassing and hypocritical as it felt to him, gihun gradually wrapped his arms around your waist. his touch hovered, however, only for you to pull him in, letting him know it was okay.

he got the message. his eyes closed, a long breath escaping his lips. you would've missed what he said if you weren't listening closely: "please do." he said, voice low, tone weakened. "please stay the night. there's—there's a room close to mine. down the hall." "i will." you assure without hesitation."what're friends for, hm?" you grinned. gihun let go. "i'll go—" he cleared his throat, voice gravely. "i'll go wash my face." he gestured to the bathroom behind you, rising from his seat. you returned to yours, "when you come back, have more food. you look sunken in." "i will." he muttered.

gihun closed the sliding door, inhaling through his nostrils, wiping a rogue tear with his knuckles. before he turned on the water, he looked over his shoulder, peering through the translucent palm tree imprint adorning the bathroom door. he caught a glimpse of you re-plating his food, leaned over the table, carefully pouring more stew; a hefty pile of rice on his plate; the side dishes pushed towards his seat. his bottom lip quivered, quickly looking away and tugging the right knob, the faucet pouring. the water ran and ran, but his eyes were stuck on his reflection in the mirror. he felt nauseated by the sight of his glossy eyes, deepened frown lines, and pathetic expression: worthless, contradictory, complacent.

seeing himself felt revolting. not even a mother could love this face after all i've done. he thought to himself. how would he know? he found his mother lifeless on the floor when he came home, eternally impairing her with the gripping chokehold of disappointment routinely tightened by her deadbeat son throughout the last years of her life. what would she think of her son now, a secluded loner who lives off of blood money, whom watched his best friend die right before his eyes, hired criminals to do his bidding to further involve himself in a fight that feels too big, and on top of all that has looped in an innocent woman into all of this? and for what, comfort? a semblance of peace? gihun splashed his face haphazardly, drying off with a towel hastily. he turned the faucet off, staring at himself again: "own the consequence." he whispered to himself. "it's all your fault."

you stayed at the motel even if it was against your better judgment, such as having work earlier than usual. gihun stirred awake at the rustling outside of his closed and locked door, reaching over and squinting at his phone screen: 5:37 AM. his senses clouded by exhaustion, he didn't realize just how quickly he recognized your footsteps, climbing out of bed without a second thought. his voice startled you, even if it was quiet: "what're you doing up so early?" he asked. "you don't have work for almost three hours." "i go in earlier today," you weren't sure why you were whispering anymore. "and i forgot something at home. i'm sorry for waking you up, gihun. go back to bed." he left the doorway, coming back with his jacket and shoes on, keys in his pocket. "let's go. i'll take you home, then to work." "no!" you protested, shaking your head and waving your hand. "i've caused enough trouble waking you up." "i'm already here," he said, taking your purse and carrying it in his right hand, his left gently ushering you alongside him. "let's go. you'll be late."

you shared cigarettes after dinner, the emptied tupperware long forgotten on the small table some feet away. you blew the smoke out the window, watching it disappear into the night. the click of gihun's lighter caught your attention, gaze lingering whilst he inhaled. you smirked to yourself: "i kicked this habit right before i started trying for a family." you said, bringing the cigarette between your lips. "i guess you're as bad an influence you say to be." you quipped, exhaling. "high school gihun would ask if he looked cool doing it." he muttered, holding his between his lips, putting the lighter back in his pocket. "he would. and i'd tell him he does." you affirmed with a nod, flicking ash into the tray lining the windowsill. "he would also ask for you to not tell his mom, even though he stole those cigarettes from her shop. then, two days later, he'd ask you for one." you chuckled, leaning towards the window and blowing. gihun shook his head, "what an annoying kid." "funny." you corrected him. "you were funny. aware, but also clueless. caring, too."

"i was shameless." he murmured lowly, blowing his smoke. you tsked un-approvingly, "stop being so brooding. now that's annoying." he looked at you as if you detested his entire family lineage, eyes widened in an expression fit for schoolyard bickering. "i'm not being annoying, i'm being real! hey—" he said, pointing his cigarette at you. "you're the one being annoying, just going against whatever i say! you've been doing this so much lately! on wednesday, when i offered to buy dinner because you've been working so late these days, and you said to me 'hey gihun, i have fifteen more years until i'm eligible for elderly welfare. i can cook just fine.' you could've just said either yes or no!" he waved his hand to accentuate his point, continuing: "and last week when you told me five times to stop wearing the same three shirts on rotation, and i told you i have more than that but there's no need because i sit in a car all day, and you said 'you're more dedicated to an outfit than the president is to the oath of office.' where do you even get this stuff?" he questioned, bewildered, pointing his cig to his temple. you nearly drew blood from your lip from attempting to contain your laughter. "and i wasn't stealing from my mom when i was that young! at least be honest about that." hearing him accentuate his vowels in the midst of his frustrated rant—a habit he's seemingly had his entire life—made your face feel warmer than before, a wide smile appearing whilst laughter finally rang out of you; you'd unpack the former later.

"okay, okay." you nodded, your free hand coming to rest on his arm as a way of both giving in and telling him to calm down. "was it my mom you stole from, then?" you joked, unable to hold your laughter at the look on his face. "you can tell me, gihun. i'm sure the statute of limitations is up by now for theft." "you're impossible." he muttered, shaking his head, bringing his cigarette to his lips. "hey. hey," you said, arm traveling up to his bicep, "i'm just kidding. i know you didn't steal." he stayed silent until he couldn't. "jungbae used to take his father's cigarettes. that's what i smoked." "okay, okay. i believe you, no need to be emotional." you said that on purpose, an upside down grin molding your face at his expression, suppressed laughter clouding your lungs. "how am i emotional for just telling the truth! hey, you can't just lay the bait and expect me not to take it!" "are you really this unable to take a joke?" you questioned. "wow, gihun. you take our role as elders more seriously than anyone our age." you remarked with faux indignity, hiding your grin behind your hand, inhaling. "impossible." he muttered to himself, turning away from you to face the window. your hand fell to your side, glancing at his cigarette between his lips before gazing out the window yourself.

silence washed over the room. after a few minutes, you put out your cigarette in the ash tray. you cleared your throat, crossing your arms over your chest. "i know it's hard, but lighten up." you began. "we just had a good meal. our shit will pass smoothly in the morning." gihun turned his head, looking at you with those routinely emotive brown eyes, too capacious for his own good, gaping at you. you thought you knew what he was going to say, but he scoffed, looking back out the window, a hint of a chuckle leaving his diaphragm, a ghost of a smile on his face. "poop jokes? at our age?" he shook his head, inhaling. upon his exhale, he struck gold: "you're so full of shit." both of you turned to each other with widened eyes, an open smile of surprise on your face: "a pun!" you called out, pointing at his chest. "you just said a pun!" "i'm not inept." he said. "of course not." you agreed. "just stubborn." you grinned, hearing him scoff.

"you may not be the seong gihun i remember entirely," you said, watching him extinguish his cigarette. "but you're certainly a seong gihun that'll be hard to forget." your words weigh unexpectedly heavily, suddenly bringing up the inevitable next step when gihun confronts the salesman. it's long been established as you two have talked about it before, albeit more hesitantly these days, even if it didn't start that way. in the beginning, it was treated with zero sugarcoating; basic fact; common sense—he's going back in there and no one can stop him. however, over these last few months, it's not as if the end goal has changed, but its honest, unforgiving nature has become increasingly visceral. it lingers in the air like an unwanted draft, but you're scared shitless to get up to close the window, fearing something bad might happen if you leave your bed. it was overtly irrational, a perfect concoction of contradiction and avoidance; even at your big age. it made you feel sixteen again, narrowly evading your crush in the busy school corridor, but stealing every possible glance during your shared class. wait . . . hold on . . . did you just use the word . . .

"i don't plan on forgetting you." gihun cut your inner monologue off. you were taken aback. his gaze is unrelenting, even if his eyes give away his own surprise at his words. your mouth moved, but no sound followed. your mind was completely and utterly blank. gihun felt it too, considering you always had something to say at any given time. that's how you made your way back into his life; upended his routine; granted him a better sleeping schedule; made a technicolor life seem possible again; filled his aura with something other than regret and disdain. his life felt—even if it was only momentary—not like it was unfolding to the beat of a ticking metronome, but in peaceful silence, like now. there was no room for hurtful memories, intrusively incessant conflicting feelings born out of his festering trauma, or the hefty responsibility to avenge those lost that he attributes to his own faults. there was room for only you. you.

gihun turned away, flustered. he suddenly wished he never put his cigarette out, yearning for the scent of nicotine to distract him from the discomfort he felt now—a feeling he was sure you shared, too. "i'm sorry." he muttered, so quiet it nearly blended in with the noise of the air conditioning kicking in. you stepped forward, locking your arm with his. he turned his head, glancing at you when you laid your temple against his bicep. he feels one of your hands gingerly rub his arm, saying something neither of you had the guts to verbally. his posture was stiff, unsure of what to do, but he didn't think for an iota of a second to step away or nudge you off. he felt something inside him begin to thaw, or maybe it slowly had been this entire time. "tonight is the first time i've heard you laugh since we met again." you spoke. your tone was so hushed it made gihun feel as if you were the last two people on all of earth. you two stood in silence, looking out the same window; listening to the distant cares drive by; the meow of a stray cat; the air conditioning shutting off. too afraid to move his gaze—and frightened by how hot his face felt—gihun slowly pulled his hand out of his pocket, slipping it into yours. it took him a moment to mount the courage to intertwine your fingers, and another to lay his temple against the top of your head.

something shifted after that night. how could it not? your apartment collected dust with how you practically lived at the motel, other than to cook. gihun awoke before you did on days you had work earlier, intentionally setting this alarm no matter the time he fell asleep the night before. you stayed in his car a little longer than usual when he dropped you off, really pushing that five minute grace period you have to clock in on time, even if those extra few minutes were spent in flustered silence or repeatedly glancing at how close your hands were on the center console. every time you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket, you hoped it was him; elated if it was indeed his name in your messages, and an eye roll if it was an email or the news. gihun found himself sitting up in his seat when your text came through midday (Going on lunch in 15 min), uncomfortably tugging at the collar of his shirt. he cleared his throat when you sent your usual follow up (Free now), staring at the call button next to your contact name. what am i going to say? he thought to himself, only to realize how ridiculous he sounded. gihun pressed the button hastily, bringing the phone to his ear with an irritated huff. since when did i become sixteen again?

on the evenings where you're running late for dinner, gihun is in your room at the motel, tidying it. he didn't want to face the fact that he lingered in your space because it was precisely that: yours—or in more truthful words, he just really missed you. it was where your energy remained a constant, even through the poorly-lit space and stuffy air. it felt irrational to miss someone he would see in a matter of hours, but he could not help it. he distracted himself with fixing the folded corner of the thin duvet; smoothening a stubborn wrinkle on a pillow case; replacing a faulty lightbulb; cracking the window open just enough if it was particularly humid that day. if you still hadn't arrived afterward, gihun sat on the edge of your finely made bed, waiting idly. he sped down the hall upon reading I'm outside, hushing your flurry of apologies with a gentle "it's okay. i only just came home, too."

gihun was no stranger to nightmares. he had them often, tossing and turning in bed, waking up in a cold sweat or with a prolonged headache that followed him into the day. over time, he got better at lulling himself back to sleep, harnessing the mantra of it's not real as best he could. but one night . . . it was too tangible, tactile, even. filled with villains of his past, ghosts of mistakes, ominous reminders of the uncertain future. he knew he was in a dream, but his subconscious was at war with his conscious efforts to wake up—throwing him in a very frightening limbo. he awoke with a sharp gasp, his body riddled with sweat and coughing abhorrently, throat heinously dry. this was the most severe dream he's had in a while. gihun tried to ground himself by whatever means his mangled mind could think of: steadying his breath, feeling the fraying blanket with his fingertips, trying to remember that mantra ... but his senses felt electrified, the visceral fear of the nightmare still fresh.

his eyes shot open when he heard a knock at his door. he stilled, unsure whether he'd imagined it. some of his rationale had returned, but not entirely, because when there was another knock, he quickly got out of bed, grabbing the gun on his nightside table. that dream really must have done a number on him, because he didn't look at his monitors and moved based on assumption—halting upon hearing "gihun?" your voice laced with concern yet gentle, ear pressed against the door. you knocked again. "gihun? are you awake?" you asked. "is everything okay in there?" his shoulders sunk in relief. have i lost my mind? he thought to himself. he put the gun back, momentarily deferring his disgust over his rash actions, cracking open the door.

he swallowed, hiding his grimace at his still aching throat with a quick swipe of his forehead. "good evening." he said rather monotone, trying to mask as light-spirited but executing it meekly. "i'm okay. i had a bad dream." "i heard you—" you gestured down the hall. "i heard you from my room, gihun. you sounded like you were in pain. i was worried that, that—" "—i'm fine." he nodded, trying to assure you. before you rebutted, he asked "what time is it?" whilst rubbing his eyes. "two in the morning." you answered hurriedly. "look, gihun. you're drenched in sweat and you're breathing so hard. i know this wasn't some ordinary dream." you say. "was it ... was it about them? the men in masks, the games?" gihun's hesitant pause was your answer. "i'm okay." he said again. "i'm sorry for waking you up. go back to bed." you tsked. "still so stubborn, even when he's sleepy." you eyed him, seeing his glistening face. "okay," you gave in. "i'm down the hall if you need me." a pause. "you're not alone in this." you reminded him, walking away and returning to your room. his gaze lingered in your general direction for a moment before closing his door.

he tried to fall asleep, but found himself stuck, only able to stare at the ceiling. gihun's mind ran a million miles an hour, feeling short of breath if he focused on that for more than ten seconds. he looked at his phone for the fifth time in three minutes: 2:47 AM. sleep felt nowhere in sight. his sweat had mostly subsided, heartbeat leveled, but his mind remained riddled. if he closed his eyes, they would open right back up. your proposition played in his head like a broken record, but like anyone his age, his pride stood in the way. it's not only that he didn't want to seem weak or have an insecure grip on self-sufficiency, but also seeking comfort still felt foreign to him. it was another symptom of circumstance, both of the past three years and the last four months. gihun felt undeserving, foolish for pursuing such a thing when he's so close to throwing himself back into a world running on nothing but adrenaline and fear.

gihun laid on his left side with a stern huff, closing his eyes, trying so desperately to feel that lilting tug of sleep, even if he had to pretend. he did all of this to protect you and himself. to protect the inevitable, to crystallize his oath of taking down those bastards once and for all. but when he looked at his phone, seeing it was now 3:16 AM, he suddenly felt thirty-five again: coming home horrendously late after another taxing day at the factory, muscles weak and his will even more so. his wife wasn't home, having been at her relative's house the past few days after an argument they had. he laid atop the bed the best his sore muscles allowed; he hadn't enough strength to shower or even feed himself. he got up less than four hours later, freshening up as best he could in an eerily silent house, ignoring the grumble of his stomach as he boarded the public bus.

it was one of his loneliest moments. he didn't know why he thought of that specifically, considering the divorce, custody battle, and moving back in with his mother was a different low point entirely. his eyes opened to the darkness. the silence felt similar, the shame even more so . . . gihun got up, taking his pillow and blanket with him. he knocked twice, pressing his ear against the door, only for it to creak open. it must have been left open. he stepped inside, closing and locking it behind him. the layout of your room was the same as his, so he had no problem navigating the dark room. he quickly laid his pillow on the floor next to your bed, closing his eyes after unfolding his blanket. you were awake, overhearing his shuffling into the room. "gihun?" he gasped: "you scared me." he whispered back, hand on his chest. "why are you on the floor?" you asked. silence lingered. "i wasn't—i wasn't sure if it would be okay." "get on the bed, gihun." unbeknownst to him, you were awake for the past hour and some change waiting; having moved purposefully to lay on one side of the bed.

your face felt warm, eyes squeezing shut and nestling into your pillow when you felt the weight of the bed dip behind you. even though your backs faced each other, you thanked the universe that no lights were on in the room. gihun laid as far on his side of the bed as he could; not enough to warrant worry that he would fall off, but enough to thwart his fastening heartbeat he felt come increasingly close to his throat. or so he thought, because he stuttered with his next words: "you—you left your door open. don't ... don't do that. someone might come in." a beat. "you did." was all you said. barely ten minutes later, both of you succumbed to the white nose of the air vent, gihun's quiet snores and your steady breaths filling the room.

a week later, you walked into your apartment, setting bags of fresh groceries down on the kitchen counter. you heard your text tone go off in the midst of searching your cabinets for the usual pots and pans you used to cook—a piercing rattle reverberating through the immediate space when you dropped a small pot onto the stove, reading the text from gihun: 1 do not come. you stared at the text in horror, inner monologue clustered and borderline indecipherable—did he find him? how? when—yesterday it was another dead end—and lunch was smooth, too—how could have things changed so quickly? where is he—do not come? is he at there, at the motel? he sent this seven minutes—did he confront him there? how did he even find him there? how did he even— how did he even get inside? your eyes flickered back to the 1—a code you two established the night you took your wordless oath to help him in his endeavor ("it's quick to type. the 'one' we're looking for, the 'one' chance we have.") gihun sent the other three words to deter your stubbornness under the glimmer of the neon pink motel sign he didn't turn on himself, further punctuating the sentiment of imminent danger.

"how ... how long do i wait for?" you whispered to yourself. you paced back and forth, gnawing at whatever skin was left on your lips, moving to your nails after they felt raw. you didn't process your stomach rumbling more time went by; another hour passing on the clock, nor did you pay mind to how your loafers continuously pinched the back of your ankles, too occupied to remember to take them off. your phone rang close to midnight. gihun hadn't realized how quickly you picked up his call: "gihun!? what happened? is everything okay? are you okay?" "i'm safe." he said. "i am okay." he let out a breath, hearing yours on your side of the line. he began to explain: "we found him an hour after lunch. we tailed and tried to corner him, but he was too quick. one of my men are dead, and he used to other to find me at the motel." "n-no." you said weakly, shaking your head, horrified. "he was in my room." gihun continued. "he challenged me to a game of russian roulette. i won. he's dead."

you hadn't the faintest clue what that game was. but that did not matter. "d-dead? just—just like that?" your voice was quiet, eyes glossy. "after searching for these three years, he's gone just like that?" these people were so fucking odd. no matter how many times you reeled over the details, anecdotes, of whatever you learned, their ominous nature left you with an uneasy stomach; an urge to look over your shoulder at any given moment. it was consuming you these last six months. you couldn't imagine how it's been for him for the past few years. gihun nodded, despite you not being able to see. "yes." he affirmed. "he gave me what i needed. there's a card with a date and address for a halloween party, i think, since i searched it up and saw its a club. that's where the leader of the games will be. we've started planning what we're going to do—" "—that's—that's two weeks from now." you thought aloud. "yes." said gihun, nodding again. here came the part of the conversation he'd been avoiding: "i need you to ... i need you to stay at your apartment. just for tonight." you were deeply offended. "what? are you crazy?" you retorted, furrowing your eyebrows. "absolutely not. you listen to me, i'm coming—" "—no, listen to me." he cut you off. "it's a mess at the motel. i can't—" he huffed, shoulders sinking a little. "i can't do that to you."

you understood what he meant. "okay." you sounded hurt, but agreeable. you leaned on the kitchen counter, elbow rustling against the grocery bags. "okay." you repeated, running your hand over your face, clearing your throat afterward. you realized this wasn't gihun acting as if he was alone in his endeavor, but asking nonverbally for your belief in him. "i'll stay here. i trust you." "thank you." he responded in a whisper, overcome by a hefty wave of relief. "just for tonight. i promise." he specified once again. "i know." you said. a moment of silence washes over before gihun speaks. "i'll take you to work tomorrow." he said gently. "do you go in at nine?" "seven." you correct. you look over your shoulder, seeing it was nearing one in the morning on the oven clock. "i didn't realize how late it was. i haven't even showered yet." "me neither." he responded, glancing at the time on his car's dashboard. "i'll be at your building at half six. is that okay?" you nodded, despite his not being able to see. "yes, that's okay."

silence washed over the call. "thank you for trusting me." he said. "thank you for trusting me too. goodnight, gihun." "goodnight." he quickly hung up the call, tossing his phone onto the empty passenger's seat. a shaky breath left his lips as his eyes watered, fingers harshly rubbing his closed eyelids. "fuck." he muttered under his breath. when his vision cleared, he turned his head, looking out his car window to your apartment building. he stared and stared, eyes flittering up and down the various floors, trying to spot yours with any hint; a lamp turned off, a curtain closed, anything. some part of him wanted to stay in his spot until he was to pick you up, and another irrationally hoped you'd walk out of the building, like a lovesick teenager who's lost all reason. but eventually, gihun's hand reached for the gear, putting the car in drive, gradually pushing down on the peddle.

those two weeks were a stilled, prolonged goodbye. your face and muscles felt heavy as if you were already in mourning, but your brain remained defiant. he's too stubborn to let those people kill him. you told yourself, pouring creamer into your coffee at work. he's not stupid enough to die. the later half of october rolled out. with each passing day, you slowly lost the strength to cross out the dates on the calendar in his room. gihun would be a fool to not see the growing cynicism that deepened your eye bags, the perpetual frown on your face during dinner, or the avoidance of eye contact. you woke up too easily these days, gihun often hearing your shower head long before your alarm went off. he wasn't sure if you even set an alarm anymore, but it was enough to deduce you weren't getting much sleep. what was once a witty back-and-forth when reviewing the day's plans for his recruits, became a subdued, one-sided conversation where you looked at the whiteboard with an unreadable expression, offering a monotone "sounds good" in the end. as halloween drew closer, your midday texts lessened. gihun reached out—Are you going on lunch soon?—only to come to terms with his hurt upon reading your response: Busy day. I'll see you at dinner. your eyes watered, bottom lip quivering when he texted back: Okay. No problem. you clicked your phone off, turning it face down. you pushed away your half-eaten lunch, losing your appetite. a ragged breath left your diaphragm, tears threatening to leave your waterline. no one else was in the break room, so the consequences of suppressing your emotions thankfully beared no audience. but you felt exposed nonetheless, confronted by the fact that you couldn't bear to lose gihun, but you had no choice.

the motel was eerily silent the night before halloween. the plan was concrete, reviewed ad nauseam over the last couple of weeks. dinner had wrapped a few hours prior, the tupperware packed away in your tote bag hanging on the back of a lounge chair in your room. you didn't dare look at gihun. in fact, your eyes stayed down the entire time, speaking minimally other than to ask to pass a side dish, or offer him more rice. your quivering lips were hidden well behind your utensils, or taking a drink of water. gihun was just as quiet. not passive, but quiet. he didn't muster the courage to say anything. he might not be the most gifted in expressing his emotions, but he was aware enough to read the room and know it wasn't the best time to bring up the inevitable. he knew he couldn't leave you alone. he couldn't, not without saying something.

so there he was, some time past eleven pm, knocking on your door frame. "are you awake?" he asked gently, even if your nightside lamps were on, apparent that you weren't asleep. you peeked over your shoulder. "yes." you answered, returning your temple to your pillow. gihun walked into the room, back facing you as he sat on the edge of your bed. he had enough gall to keep you in his peripheral vision, but fell short of looking at you directly. "what did i tell you about leaving your door open, hm?" he asked, trying to sound sharp, but succumbing to tenderness. "anyone can walk in." "you aren't just anyone, gihun." you said oh so delicately, enough to have him turn his head completely, eyebrows turned up sympathetically. you saw his eyes on you in your periphery, but avoided his gaze, keeping yours on your palm running back and forth along a small spot of the thin duvet.

"i—" gihun reached into his pocket. "i made you a key for the motel." he leaned over to his right, setting it down on your nightside table. "if you ever need anything," he glanced in your direction, the strength to look at you fleeting. "take as much as you want. you know where the room is." you didn't say a word. your palm stilled. his gaze fell to the duvet, too, his hand gliding across the wrinkles. "like i said before," his voice was low. "i don't plan on forgetting you—" "—gihun, stop." you interrupted. "i don't have the strength for this."

silence. he tries again: "i'll come back." he spoke warily. "i'm going to come back." "please." your voice fell to a whisper. "i can't take it." your chin hovered above your chest from the length you went to avoid his eyes. you felt fragile as porcelain, every single utterance of this conversation chipping away at you without remorse. gihun doesn't try again, internally frustrated with how easily he felt defeated. silence wins again, but not for long. he continues tracing the duvet's wrinkles, inching towards to your hand with every swipe. his hand comes closer and closer, until he slows. you watched his fingers gradually hold yours. gihun doesn't apply pressure, but he stays there. he keeps them in his grip when he moves to lay on his side, facing you. "at least look at me." he whispered, pleading. "i can't." you sounded so defeated. his eyes glistened, gripping your fingers properly now. "i can't regret my decision now. not when i'm so close." his eyes shined under the warm-toned light of your lamp. "don't make me regret my decision. please."

your head rose, meeting his eyes. he looked his most familiar: a deep somberness etched in the crevices of his face, his eyes perhaps the most poetic of all. they looked so soft, so gentle; as if a look of malice could never come close to tainting them. he could try his damn hardest, feel the most visceral of anger, but he could never look truly dissatisfied, forever unable to mask his true desire for comfort. for love. a small grin tugged at gihun's lips. "there you are. i missed you." he was barely audible, almost as if he mouthed the words. without thinking, he moved his head onto the pillow, not realising how close you two were until it was too late. it was like a strange instinct, the way he leaned in. he couldn't stop himself; not when the quietest of gasps escaped between your teeth, or his heart thumping so harshly his chest felt it was going to burst, or when his lips hovered admittedly awkwardly above yours. the kiss was light, almost nonexistent, until gihun leaned forward a little more. the tip of his nose brushed past yours, bringing his lips against yours wholly. his nose lightly dipped into your cheek when he kissed you again. before you could show any semblance of reciprocity, gihun abruptly pulled away.

"i'm sorry." he said. "i shouldn't have ... i shouldn't have done that. i'm sorry—" "—it's okay." you shook your head, panicking slightly. you slipped your fingers out of his grip, using them to make him look at you. "come here." you say. he follows, molding his lips with yours once again. the kiss was one of fervor; relocating misplaced frustration into that of palpable yearning; two souls who came together by chance after decades past; an atomic understanding of each other's pain, yet accepting you'll never truly know what's its like to live the other's life; a long-awaited embrace of the unknown, succumbing to the desire—no, the need to be loved.

gihun's lips felt soft, contrasting with his stubble rubbing against your chin and upper lip. it made you pull him closer, his head tilting to the side to deepen the kiss, eyebrows turning upward at the sound of your muffled whimper. your hand left his face, taking his hand and laying his palm atop your clothed breast. he took the hint, kneading it with just the right amount of firmness, but not without moaning lowly into your mouth. his pointer and middle fingers pulled the collar of your sweater down, breaking the kiss mind-numbingly slowly before trailing down to your neck, past your double chin, settling on the faint stretch marks adorning your shoulder. your eyes fluttered closed at the sensation, an encouraging hand in his hair as your chest nearly collided with his, back arched in bliss.

you brought yourself back down to earth, hand reaching past his chest, undoing his belt. you scrambled to undo the button and zipper, escaping into his briefs. gihun let out a guttural moan into your warm skin, embarrassingly (to him) hard in your hand, breathing hard through your slow strokes. "h—h-ha ... h—ngh!" he tried to contain himself by peppering kisses onto your skin, but ended up bucking his hips up into your soft palm. you fastened your pace, fingers wrapped securely around his girthy cock, his precum wetting your hand. gihun shuddered, mouth agape and face burrowed into your clothed chest, fingers limp on your shoulder. you bit your bottom lip as you continued your ministrations, thighs rubbing together for any sort of friction. a whimper rattled out of his diaphragm when you began pumping only his tip. "i'm g-gonna pass out!" he whined. he gasped sharply when he felt something stir in his abdomen. "n-no, no—w-wait!" he suddenly moved, laying his head next to yours on the pillow. "w-wait! s-stop! i'm—" his body reacted before he did. gihun's nose brushed against your cheek, his mewls and grunts making your eyebrows knit together in a fit of awe and sexual drive you hadn't felt in years. hot spurts of cum coated his briefs and your inner wrist. you gradually came to a halt, overhearing his labored breathing.

you leaned in, softly reconnecting your lips. even in his clouded haze, gihun kissed back with intent. his hand found the hem of your pants, leaning closer to you, your free hand holding his cheek, deepening the kiss. you turned your head towards the ceiling with a sharp inhale, effectively breaking the kiss, however, when his fingers dipped between your folds. goosebumps arose on your arms underneath your sleeves, a soft hiss brewing between your teeth. "your hand is cold." you whispered. his nose pushed against your cheek, lips pressing chaste kisses onto your supple skin. "i'm sorry." he said. "i can ... i can stop." "no, it's okay. it's okay." you say breathily, closing your thighs around his wrist. gihun's jaw dropped at the sight."it'll warm up. just—just keep going." you tell him. "fuck!" his voice fought so hard to stay quiet, coming out hoarse.

your eyes were closed, eyebrows furrowed. it was only every few swirls of his finger did a small gasp leave your slightly swollen lips, feeling him come closer to your clit than before. gihun was so fucking close to where you needed him to be, but not quite there. his unintentional teasing concocted the subtle yet apparent slosh of your wetness as your puffy lips encased his middle finger. you arched your back a little, hoping it would slip him into place, but to no avail. you reached for his head, fingers slipping into his hair. "gihun," you swallowed, mouth dry. "a little h-higher." "where? here?" his cock was hardening in your hand again, blurring his logic, trailing kisses up to your temple in his misunderstanding. "your hand, gihun. your f-finger." "right, right." he quickly realized. "i'm sorry."

the pad of his middle finger inched higher. the light of heaven was now in your sight. you opened your legs to allow just enough room for his wrist to fulfill your next request: "a l-little deeper, gihun. a little—f-fuck!" your gasp echoed off the walls. your hand left his hair, coming to cover your mouth, eyes barely open to look down at his hand in your pants. your wetness was blatant, the sticky sound making his cock stiffen and your vision blur. "g-gihun!" you whimpered, feeling him rubbing unrelentingly your sweet bundle of nerves. every swipe tightened the muscles of your inner thighs, toes curling in your socks. "k-keep going! keep going!" you pleaded helplessly, voice stuck at a whisper.

gihun pressed his forehead against your temple, eyes cast below with no intent of looking away. "f-fuck." he muttered under his breath, mouth agape at how he worked you. his mind became mush, marveling over your warmth and intoxicating softness. "please." he muttered to himself, squeezing his eyes shut at the thought of how you would feel wrapped around him. his shame made him feel juvenile, embarrassed by how his thoughts were as sexually erratic when he was 21 to his now 51, but not enough to stop him from grinding his cock into your loosened grip. "p-please," he whispered to himself. "god almighty—hngh!"

you began pumping him again, your other hand going back into his hair, turning your head and kissing his lips. it was one of newfound hunger; quick yet deep; quiet but stuttered through moans and hushed whimpers. suddenly, a knot formed in your abdomen, threatening to unravel. you broke the kiss. "i'm close." your tone was so vulnerable, like you would trust him with the world. gihun opened his eyes, taking in how beautiful you looked under the lamplight, the sheerest coat of sweat glimmering off your skin. "are—ngh!—a-are you?" you asked. he felt your breath brush against his cheeks, his forehead atop yours, nodding. "y-yes. we can finish together. c'mon." he kissed your cheek and your temple. "o-okay," you said breathily, head turning towards the ceiling, feeling his lips rest against your skin. "i trust you."

before gihun could register it, you unraveled. your moans were so delicate, so gentle, descending into shudders rattling out of your chest; back arching, eyebrows turned upward in ecstasy. "i—i!" you whimpered, the feeling of his finger continuously circling your clit through your unimaginable orgasm making your sinuses loosen, tears prickling even in your tightly shut eyes. "yes! yes! y-yes!" you chanted like a prayer, pumping him whilst you rode out your high. gihun was an incoherent mess through his second orgasm, his sweaty forehead sticking to your cheek, spilling onto your wrist in finality. he felt depleted of all energy, dizzy for those first few moments whilst you laid beside each other in your respective post-orgasmic hazes, your joint-labored breathing outdoing the room's air conditioning unit.

his hand slowly pulled out of your pants, yours slipping from his briefs when he turned to lay on his back. gihun's eyes closed, lulling his heartbeat with every deep breath he took. even though your body had stilled—eyes closed, tongue running over your dried lips; trying to bring yourself back down—something stirred inside of you. your body had its release, but your heartbeat fastened for a reason you did not want to acknowledge. in fact, there could not have been a worse time than now. you hastily wiped the tear that had fallen during your orgasm, your face contorting into a near sob, almost giving in to the reality that you convinced yourself you've long accepted. but you loathed it so much, so viscerally that your temples vibrated with anger; resentment; vitriol, even. all those missed phone calls, lying texts, quiet dinners, avoidant conversations . . . now here you were, suffering the consequences the night before he's set to leave.

am i really going to cry after an orgasm? really? you thought to yourself. you knew it wasn't the truth, but you were internally fighting tooth and nail to not yield to the suffocating devastation consuming your lungs like smoke at the moment; breath stuttering through your nostrils, chest convulsing whilst you held back the tears. but then, you felt his hand ghost past yours when he fixed his posture in bed. all hell broke loose.

gihun's eyes widened when he heard you cry. his hand did not hesitate to ride up your arm; a firm, yet gentle tug at your shoulder in an attempt for your attention. "hey," he spoke softly. "what happened? is everything okay?" you cried even harder, bringing your hand to your mouth. gihun's knuckles wiped what he could reach, turning on his side to face you. his big brown eyes looked to you with the same devastation your body was currently expelling. "was it something i did?" he whispered tragically. he was afraid he overstepped a boundary tonight, the intensity of it all hitting you suddenly. but that couldn't be farther from the truth. if only you could stop crying to tell him.

you turned to look at him, pawing weakly at his chest to somehow ground yourself enough to speak. the attempt proved to be worthless, the warmth of your tears lulling you into a state of incoherence. gihun's hands came up, holding either side of your face. "what is it?" his voice was low, laced with concern and perpetual shame. "what happened, hm? you can tell me." he encouraged, fingers wiping your fresh tears, palm softly encasing your cheek afterward. "i can't stand to see you like this. please, tell me."

"i-i'm so sorry i've been so distant!" you exclaimed, your tears added an unintended tone of urgency. you looked into his eyes, shaking your head. "i'm so sorry i've b-been so mean!" "no—" gihun dismissed gently, pulling you into his chest. he wrapped his arms around you; one hand smoothening your hair, the other holding onto your hip. "it's okay. you have nothing to apologize for." he meant every word. gihun never once questioned why you acted the way you did. he's anticipated this from the moment he asked for your number that early afternoon several months ago. out of all the unpredictable variables that have unfairly cast themselves into the trajectory of his life, he could always count on his selfishness to rear its ugly face in the end. whether it be debt, addiction, or hurting the ones he loved—he bears the consequence. but some part of this makes it feel worth it, as murky as it is. "it's okay. it's okay." he hushed your cries. gihun kissed your temple tenderly. "there is nothing to be forgiven." he told you when your tears subsided, holding onto you even tighter. "you haven't done anything wrong."

after a while, you slowly sat up. gihun too, albeit cautiously, watching you wipe underneath your eyes with the back of your hand. you let out a long breath, lifting your head to meet his gaze. "i've always been such an ugly crier." you muttered. gihun exhaled through his nose, grinning. "i can never predict what's going to come out of your mouth next. no matter how hard i try." you grew flustered, an upside down grin tugging at your lips. "you missed thirty years of my life." you said. "of course you'd be a little lost."

gihun couldn't help but let out a small chuckle. comfortable silence washed over the room. your palm began to swipe back and forth on the duvet again, but your eyes were on him. avoidance wasn't in the realm of possibility anymore. it hurt, but you felt ready. "you can't die, gihun." you spoke, voice quiet, as if volume would shatter the sanctity of your oath. you looked at him as if you were the only two beings on the entire earth. "i have more food to make." his gaze did not waver. "i won't." he responded, equally gentle. "i have more to eat."

two days later, you unlocked the door, stepping into your apartment. you kicked your shoes off without a moment's hesitation, setting your purse down on the kitchen counter. the rustle of the plastic bag in your hand almost overshadowed the vibration in your pocket. fishing your phone out, you rolled your eyes at the work email notification. something regarding an ongoing project, or an upcoming meeting—you could have cared less. "it's nine fucking pm. are they this incompetent?" you muttered as you walked to the living room, clicking your phone off and setting it down on the coffee table.

the plastic bag, surprisingly, was not filled with fresh vegetables and your other go-to ingredients, but takeout. you untied the knot, opening the styrofoam containers filled with freshly-cooked fried chicken and tteokbokki, respectively. "shit," you said to yourself, getting up from the couch and scurrying to the fridge, bringing back a can of sprite to accompany the meal. you ignored the cabinet housing your tupperware, not even permitting your oven, which stored your pots and pans, in your peripheral vision. for now, and for your sanity, they were dead to you.

you ate your meal in silence. the crunch of the chicken, chewiness of the rice cake, and the fizzing of your soda kept you company. your phone lit up with emails, the news, reminders to pay bills, your paycheck hitting your bank account; you didn't waver. you did what you vowed to do for the next days, weeks, or maybe the next thirty years: waiting. for something. anything.

honey's taglist! ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა: @gongyoosgf @infinetlyforgotten

[patchs-curiosity-corner]

𝑳𝒆𝒕 𝑴𝒆 𝑯𝒆𝒍𝒑 𝒀𝒐𝒖 | 𝑺.𝑹. 

𝐀𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐥 𝟏𝟓𝐭𝐡 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟕 - 𝑭𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝑩𝒍𝒖𝒔𝒉

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: A new member is added to the BAU soon after Reid’s kidnapping. She seems determined not to overlook him.

𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: angst, hurt/comfort, slight arguing, themes of drug addiction and self harm, referenced overdose, likely inaccurate depiction of drug addiction/withdrawal, Spencer and Reader being insecure.

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 2.5k

𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓’𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆: Fair warning this could be horrible. It’s part one of hopefully six total oneshots stemming from the concept of ‘5 times you help Spencer Reid heal, and one time he helps you.’ So, heart attack levels of cheese. Largely inspired by my righteous fury when no one helped Reid with his addiction. I will do a tag list for anyone interested in being alerted when part 2 comes out! Not proofread.

𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

You and Spencer Reid don’t get along.

Maybe that’s the wrong way to put it; it would be more accurate to say that he doesn’t get along with you. You were brought on a month ago, 36 days 4 hours and 27 minutes had passed since you had first walked into the bullpen and given him one more person to deal with. It didn’t help that you were sweet, gentle and understanding in a way seemed to grate on his already frayed nerves. You’re 22, but only recently, recently enough to have just barely squeaked out the title of “youngest member to join the BAU” that had previously belonged to him. It’s a childish record, he’s a 25 year old man, and it shouldn’t affect him much less upset him, but it does. 

Your presence feels like a personal insult. Your arrival so soon after his kidnapping churns his stomach, makes him wonder if the team is questioning his capabilities as a profiler. Why else would they need to suddenly hire an extra person? Not-so-deep down he knows that logically, it probably had to do with the recent increase in the units budget. Nothing to do with him, but rather Hotch taking advantage of the opportunity to have another pair of boots on the ground during cases. None of that matters though, because Spencer doesn’t feel very logical right now.

He’s found more little ways to justify his distaste for you in the weeks since your arrival. The way you always seem to smile and nod along with his ramblings, despite the fact they’re not directed at you. You must be mocking him, he concludes, secretly patronizing him for his inability to shut up. Or the way you look at him after learning about his recent… ordeal with Tobias Hankel, the gentle sympathy in your eyes he willingly misinterprets as pity. He hates being pitied. He hates being patronized. He hates the analytical way you always seem to look at him, and he almost immediately convinces himself that above all: he hates you.

———

Something’s up with Reid.

You’d noticed it from day one, but it had been easy to disregard as growing pains. After all, with Emily having only joined months before you, you were sure there was going to be a bit of an adjustment period, especially when the sting of losing one of their previous teammates was still so fresh. You’d heard so many good things about Elle from everyone, and you’d be lying if it didn’t make you feel even a little bit insecure as the greenest among them.

It takes about a week for you to realize there’s something more to his behavior than awkward aloofness. The way he wears long sleeves even as the cool air of spring grows warmer, the near-constant twitch in his brow, and especially the way he seems to constantly fidget with those aforementioned sleeves, scratching nervously at his inner elbow. Even just the way his wiry fingers tighten around the strap of his bag, you can’t shake it.

Something is terribly wrong.

You try to remain casual, asking after him when he disappears into the bathroom for a touch too long, or when he takes a sick day that even as the newbie you know is out of character. Innocuous little questions like: “Is Reid alright?” or “Does he seem paler lately?” that gleaned no real answer from any of their teammates. It made you furious. Spencer was a part of their team, part of their family, regardless of his icy attitude towards you. So why wouldn’t any of them help him?

You watch him deteriorate over time, in the 36 days you’d spent on the team you’d been silently festering, mentally begging someone to do something, anything for Reid. Help him! your eyes beg Morgan, Hotch, Gideon, JJ, anyone. He’s going to die like this…

…but no one does, and enough is enough.

———

Spencer can’t eat, he can’t sleep either. Whenever he tries to his mind is filled with the memory of the horrible night he spent with Hankel, his crystal clear eidetic memory forcing him to relive that torture again and again the moment he closes his eyes. He knows there must be dark circles under his eyes, that his cheeks are likely sunken and pale, eyes rimmed red from lack of sleep. He’s certain the others must have noticed, there’s no way they couldn’t. But he tries to convince himself they haven’t, because if they had and no one had checked on him? …He doesn’t want to consider that reality.

The soft rapping of knuckles against his door stirs him out of his sleepless daze. It’s late, late enough that no one in their right mind would be awake right now, much less knocking on his door. In his drained state he heaves himself off the couch, plodding with weighted feet over to the door of his apartment. He doesn’t bother to check the peephole, if he did maybe he wouldn’t have been so startled by who he sees upon pulling open the door.

You.

A travel bag slung over your shoulder and a determined look set on your features. You both just stand there for a moment, until your voice breaks the silence.

“Hi.” It’s just one word, but it tugs at something inside him he can’t quite name.

“Hey.” He croaks back apathetically, or at least he tries to. Before he can say anything else or even question what you’re doing you push past him into his apartment, tossing your bag onto his kitchen island. “What the hell-“ Is all he manages to get out, irritation swelling in his chest as he scowls at your form, looking at him with arms crossed, fingers picking at the frayed edges of your sweater.

And just like that it’s quiet again. It’s his voice that breaks the silence this time, quiet and tired: “What are you doing here?”

“Make sure you don’t die, hopefully.” you murmur, your own voice cracked by anxiety and a frail attempt at humor. “Where are they?” That makes his jaw tighten, you both know what you’re talking about, and it causes long-suppressed frustration to boil up in his chest.

“You have no right to be here. You- you have no right to look through my things.” The words are gritted out through teeth clenched so tight you worry they may crack. It’s painful, watching him fight so hard against the help you’re trying to offer.

“Look, Spencer” you sigh, unable to hide the pained expression of your own face, “Hotch knows. I talked to him about it.” You brace for something, anything. Maybe shouting, you seriously doubted Reid would ever consider laying a hand on you but… drugs did funny things to those you would have thought you knew. “S-so you either let me help you, or I’ll be forced to report your current addiction to Strauss.” Your voice had wavered at the beginning, but the more you spoke the more conviction bled into your voice. Soon all the pent up anxiety and worry for your brilliant coworker was pushing you forward, fueling your words. “I won’t stand by Spencer, because if you keep going like this it’s not a matter of if but when it kills you, and that is the last thing I would ever want because you are too damn good for that.”

Reid glares at you, every ounce of misplaced anger in his system directed at you alone in a gaze far more furious than you or anyone thought him capable of. Then his shoulders slump, and that tired, worn appearance returns. He could deny it, claim you had no proof, but with no energy left in his tired, broken body- He didn’t have it in him to lie. When Spencer finally speaks it’s quiet, and reluctant.

“In the bathroom,” his voice croaks, “Inside the medicine cabinet.”

He would have expected you to immediately go there, to play the role of drill sergeant for his sudden makeshift rehab, but you don’t. Instead your own shoulders sag, and in a number of slow steps you cross the room to where he stands, wrapping your arms tightly around his middle. Spencer goes stiff at first, unable to process the sudden display of affection, why this girl seems to care so much about him when he’d been nothing but distant to her at best. After everything he’s been through though -even with his germaphobia- it’s impossible not to relax into the embrace, his own slender arms wrapping around you in return. It’s nice to be held again, he thinks.

“This is going to be awful.” You mumble against his chest, “A week and a half, that’s all Hotch could give us. Far as anyone’s concerned I had a family emergency and you’re on a mandated sabbatical.” It takes him a minute or so to process her words, stuck in the haze of affection after going to long without.

“…what are you talking about?” Reid asks, his voice is quiet. He can’t understand why you care so much, he just needs you to go away now, before he gets addicted to your presence as well. Before something happened to you and you left; like his Mother, like Elle.

“Getting you clean.” You say hesitantly, finally pulling away from him after what felt like a peaceful eternity. “Under normal circumstances quitting outright is a terrible idea, but-“ you swallow thickly- “you’re a federal agent, so there’s a clock ticking.”

“And your plan is…?” Spencer sighs, running a heavy hand through his hair and down his face. He tries to ignore the feeling that lingers, the ghost of you in his arms.

“Stay with you through the inevitable withdrawals, I hope.” The words are tentative, not as confidant as before while you pick nervously at the sleeve of your sweater. “The first thing I have to do is get rid of all the Dilaudid in this apartment.”

His body goes rigid again, this time with the flash of panic that goes through him at your words. Hands clenching and jaw tightening, the thought of losing the thing he’d come to rely on so desperately makes him terrified. Part of Spencer wants to say ‘no,’ to stop you- beg you not to let what gave him peace drain away… But he just can’t muster the energy, forced to watch in dejected silence as you conduct a thorough search of his apartment for the offending drug -his only comfort and companion in these past two months- and dispose of it, all in a few moments. Gone.

Once you’re finished, you settle yourself on his warm, comfortable couch, letting out a quiet sigh as you wave him closer. “C’mere.”

Reid lets himself be touched for the second time that night, accepting your offer and laying his head on your lap. He’s quickly hit with a hazy feeling as your fingers slide into his hair, playing gently with the chocolate strands and scratching lightly at his scalp.

“Are you angry with me?” You ask softly after a moment, concerned by the silent treatment he was currently giving you. Again he can’t lie to you, even compared to the unwillingness to admit his fear and anger. In an act of petty rebellion he refuses to look at you when he answers.

“…yes.”

“That’s alright.” He hears you reply, as soft and gentle as everything else you had been so far. “You can be angry, Spence.”

“Why are you even here?” He bites back, a storm of emotions behind his eyes as he finally looks up at your face: anger, sadness, confusion, fear. The brilliant ‘boy-genius’ reduced to an absolute mess.Your answer is just as easily spoken and simple as before: 

“Because I care about you.” Those five words ring in his head even as you continue. “Because despite how we started out you are an incredibly genuine person, Spencer, and probably one of the most brilliant minds I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.” Spencer shakes his head, for once lost for words. Why were you here, being so nice to him? Why did you even care in the first place when he had been so cold and hostile to you over the past month. 

“I don’t- you shouldn’t care.” He spits out, turning away from her. The action feels petulant.

“But I do.” You say a hint of amusement in your voice despite the circumstances. “And you can’t stop me from caring.”His face feels hot, and his jaw clenches again as he rolls back over to hide his face in your stomach. Reid mumbles in a voice almost too low to hear: 

“You’re frustrating.” It makes you laugh.

“Don’t worry Reid,” you say through your laughter, “the feeling is definitely mutual.”

———

The next week is just as brutal as you had both been expecting.

Spencer didn’t know what he expected drug withdrawal to be like. He’d read plenty of textbooks sure but they did nothing to prepare him for a firsthand experience. The only way he can think of to describe it is pure, unadulterated misery. His body struggles without consistent doses of Dilaudid to keep him going, it’s evident he had become much more dependent than he realized in a short amount of time. He can’t eat, he feels violently sick. Too hot one moment and freezing the next with his emotions following much the same kind of roller coaster.

You stay through all of it, keeping him comforted during panic attacks and soothing his fevers with a cool washcloth as you try to get him to drink just a little more water, even if it may come back up minutes later. You’re tired, exhausted even, and yet you won’t leave Spencer’s side for more than a second. It’s easy to endure the moments of anger he has, shouting and cruel words flung in your direction are hardly any price at all if it means he might recover faster. He doesn’t understand how you take it, all the snapping, screaming and crying. Reid takes out every anxiety and fear he has on you, and still you remain in the end, ready to let him fall into your arms again and cry like a child.

He feels guilty, ashamed even in this state. An overwhelming feeling of helplessness weighs heavy on his heart, but little by little, things do get better, even if he doesn’t notice at first.

It must be the 8th day of this hell when he realizes that slowly, far too gradually for him to notice: things have returned to something oddly adjacent to normal. Sitting at his kitchen table with a cup of warm honey tea in his hands, watching you hum along to the radio while you prepare breakfast… Spencer almost feels human again. Things weren’t perfect by any means, his hands still trembled, the ghosts left behind by the worst of it all still tugged at his mind, a familiar voice begging him for just one more hit. But the voice is tiny now, easier to ignore. It was strangely peaceful, in fact, the way he could sit at this table and observe the domestic scene of you cooking breakfast in his kitchen. His chest warms pleasantly, and for what feels like the first time in years:

Spencer can finally breathe.

[paperyowl]

This is a weird ask. Feel free to ignore it.

But post breakup Buck staring at Rockon thinking Tommy has a date with this hot silver daddy (he ain't blind) and confronted them cos he's jealous to find out he was wrong. They bought him home for either a threesome (cos David never had one) or maybe just cuddles cos looks at the sad puppy and doting on Buck.

(what buck doesn't know is that Donovan is Tommy's cousin with a hilarious sense of humor who texted him the very next day to collect his man cos he ain't sharing his daddy with his cousin's ex no matter how pretty he is)

It's not weird at all. I love the idea! And I have two vastly different thoughts for this - lets go with this one for now. (I might have changed it a little bit - but I definitely need that threesome happening sometime still.)

+++

Pick up, idiot.

Calling me names doesn't make me want to talk to you more.

Tommy dropped his phone somewhere on the couch, not really bothering to check where it fell. He was not in the mood for his cousin's antics. His week had been so busy that Tommy was aching in more places than he knew he could. Maybe was is getting too old for this job.

Or perhaps he'd been slacking. Not eating well, not sleeping enough. These days, Tommy is usually good at taking care of himself. A hard-learnt habit, but he'd put in the work.

Not that it mattered now when his mind kept circling back to the rather sweet sentiment of someone saying, 'You don't have to do everything by yourself' and 'I'll take care of you'.

It was a certain someone with those impossibly warm baby blues that Tommy was trying very hard not to think about. (And failing miserably.) He deserved this. After all, he'd been the one to implode what they had.

His phone kept buzzing. After the third or fourth time - which frankly was ridiculous Don, what the fuck, get a life - Tommy hunted it down in the cushions and unlocked it.

Only to almost drop it when he saw the last message was a photo of -

"Hi, cuz," Donovan drawled, sounding deeply satisfied with himself. But Tommy wasn't focused on that at all.

"How do you have a photo of Evan? Is he there with you? Why is he with you?"

"Okay, first of all, ouch, I think I'm insulted-"

"Donovan."

Tommy heard his own voice rise and wondered since his fuse had become this short. Then he remembered that Donovan had always had this way of riling him up. That's why they hadn't talked in months. They'd been fighting about something; Tommy couldn't really remember what it had been about.

"Figured that pic would get you to call me," Donovan said. "No 'Hello, my favourite cousin, how are you doing?' It's nice to hear you, too, you know."

"Don't be mean, Rocker," another voice said in the background, one that Tommy didn't know. Or actually, he might - he'd heard it once before, and now he could remember what the fight had been about. But his focus was somewhere else completely.

"Hi. How are you. It's been too long. I miss you - is Evan okay?"

Donovan laughed at the way only one of those sentences ended in a note high enough to count as a question. Tommy hissed his name again, and finally got a 'yeah, yeah, alright.' before the phone was handed off to -

"Hi," Evan said softly. He sounded like he'd been crying. His sniffeling was hard on Tommy. "Your cousin and his partner are nice."

Tommy couldn't help but scoff. "Maybe they're doppelgängers."

There is a momentary pause, and Tommy is almost certain that the rustling he hears is a bit of a grapple for the phone. But it's still Evan on the other end when the noise dies down.

"I wouldn't know about that," Evan said. "You never mentioned them."

Fuck.

"Evan-"

"So we're back to Evan?"

"Bu-"

"Don't," Evan pleaded. "Just. Don't."

"Want me to go and rough him up a little? I still remember where he lives."

Donovan's offer sounded weak, and Tommy could imagine the way he had probably put a hand on Evan's shoulder. Or his back.

Evan didn't exactly laugh, but it was similar enough. The sound still unravelled something in Tommy's chest.

"Can we talk in person?"

"I'd like that," Evan breathed. "Just maybe not tonight?"

"Of course. Do you want me to text-"

"I'll take over from here," Donovan said, and Tommy vaguely heard the muffled noise of the receiver being covered. He checked his watch, aware that whatever conversation happened on their end took less than a minute, but to Tommy, it felt like ages more.

"You free tomorrow? Wanna come over for lunch?" Donovan asked without any lead-up, startling Tommy a little. "I somehow think you have a bit more of a reason to say 'yes' this time."

Tommy huffed a laugh.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm free," he said. "Is he alright?"

"Are you going to stop being an idiot?"

"Don."

Donovan sighed. "Listen, I know it's not really my place, but I know you, and I can make an educated guess what happened here."

"I don't like you," Tommy groused.

And like the total bastard that he was, Donovan only laughed and responded, "But you love him."

Like that was a normal thing to say. Tommy spluttered.

"Just be here tomorrow at noon, I'll cook" Donovan completely ignored Tommy's rather childish comment, 'You can cook?' and just went on. "And I'll introduce you to Deacon."

"The ominous partner that you wouldn't tell me more about when I asked?"

That was a rather shortened version of the outright shouting match of a phone call that they'd had all those weeks ago. There had been a lot of implications about very different, and Donovan wouldn't even tell him the name of the man who had him all secretive.

It was easy to read between the lines, and perhaps Tommy had been protective in exactly the wrong way. But he'd never been able to help that when it came to Donovan. The only family member that Tommy cared about.

"He just filed for divorce," Donovan told him. Tommy hissed in sympathy, starting to apologize for the whole fight, but Donovan went on: "And you wouldn't believe the things he can do with his tong-"

"Shut up."

Donovan kept laughing at him, and Tommy felt too exhausted to do something about it. And perhaps a little relieved.  

"Noon, you said?"

He might have only imagined it, but Donovan softened a little after that. But he proved he was still an absolute asshole when he yelled out, 'Hey Evan, say goodnight to your daddy,' and like the absolute cheeky brat he was, Evan did just that. (Tommy almost choked on his own spit, but after hanging up, he felt like he could breathe properly for the first time in months.)

[corkinavoid]

back to the old house the smiths

right person wrong time

winter evenings aesthetic

i really love your work thank you so much💖

DPxDC At the End & In the Beginning

All it takes is one little misstep.

He slips on the layers and layers of ice and snow covering the once concrete floor, tries to catch himself on the wall out of sheer reflex, and something silvery, metallic, and clanky goes clattering down. Dick doesn't even have time to feel his heart sinking as the object hits the icy floors, bounces, hits a table leg with a loud bang - metal to ice, it echoes through the abandoned, frozen and forgotten lab - and-

There's a beep, a hiss of pressurized air being released, and then, whatever it is that Dick dropped lights up and shoots a white, blinding beam out of itself.

Dick covers his eyes from the flash, since even the lenses of his mask are not able to dim it in the slightest.

Yet, he puts his hand down almost immediately when he hears the most unexpected, absolutely impossible sound.

A cough.

There's a man kneeling in front of him. A rather fit man, actually, despite the fact that Dick only sees his back and it's mostly covered with a black cape; he's got broad shoulders and, wow, those biceps are thicker than Dick's thigh. Okay, maybe that's an exaggeration, but they are big.

He is probably focusing on the wrong thing there because the man's hair is white, just as the snow around them, and floating like a flame. Which is arguably a more important detail than, well, biceps.

"Fucking kid," the man growls under his breath.

Now, Dick is a vigilante. It's pretty much in his job description to get stuck in an all-around confusing clusterfuck situation at least once a month. And yet, watching a buff man with flaming hair and some kind of beef with some unknown kid come out of... a thermos, okay, not the weirdest thing to store a man in, still takes its honorable place among the top ten confusing situations in his life. Not to mention that-

He must have made some sort of a sound, because the man turns around suddenly, his glowing red eyes locking with Dick's.

There's a long moment where neither of them says a word, both too stunned to react. Then, the man blinks.

"Huh," he says very eloquently, "At least he's had a few years, I guess."

Dick blinks, too, snapping himself out of a stupor. "What?" He asks, not sure where to start, and the man snorts.

"I mean, when I was imprisoned - according to this timeline, at least - you were still Robin. If you're Nightwing now, that means it's been a few years, at the least. Is your brother still dead?" He asks conversationally, rising from his kneeling position. Only he doesn't stand, he floats a few inches above the floor, and Dick might have suspected him to be Martian if not for the very wrong green hue of his skin and obviously more human-like, albeit a bit feral, features.

"What?" Dick asks again because he still understands absolutely nothing. The man gives him a weary, exasperated sigh.

"You know what, nevermind. Not like I care," he brushes his previous words off, "Where are we, anyway?"

Oh, that Dick can answer. He's almost glad for understanding at least something from all the stuff that comes out of the man's mouth.

"Amity Park," he says, "I don't know any street names here, but I've been trying to get to the starting point of this eternal winter apocalypse, so-"

"Stop right there," the man raises a hand in the air, frowning, and his face looks a tad bit lost, but mostly just sharp, eyes dangerously narrowed, "Winter apocalypse?"

Dick debates if he should be answering that at all, given the circumstances and the unknown origins of the entity. But, on the other hand, there's literally no way anything could get worse than it is.

"Yeah. We've got another ice age on our hands, and it looks like it started here. Like, right here," he gestures around himself, to the missing roof that looks like it was blown away, to the abandoned and frozen over lab equipment, and the layers and layers of snow and ice.

The man looks around as well, and Dick might be imagining it, but there's a flicker or recognition in his eyes as he takes in everything around him. Dick, however, decides it's his turn to ask questions now, "Who are you?"

"Name's Dan," the man introduces absently, not looking at Dick, and then his lips twist into a bitter smile, "I am the cause of the apocalypse." There's a pause where Dick feels his stomach abruptly sinking, and then the man adds, "Ah, not this apocalypse. A different one."

"Err, I feel like one apocalypse is enough. No, actually, one apocalypse is too many apocalypses. Please don't make more," Dick can't help but deadpan, and Dan barks a laugh.

"I've already made one. Not here, in a different timeline," he glances at Dick, "You've managed to stay alive till the very end in that one, too, actually. I guess your family is just very well adjusted for world ending events."

Different timelines are not an unfamiliar concept, and weirder shit has happened in his life, so Dick decides to believe it. However, that comes with a consequence of a dawning understanding: he is standing here, chit-chatting with someone who's caused an apocalypse. And he, albeit unintentionally, freed him.

"Relax, blue pants, world domination is not exactly interesting when there's nothing to dominate," Dan huffs a laugh, evidently noticing Dick tensing up, "Besides, it looks like no matter what my alternative self did, the result was all the same. We just had different approaches."

"What?" This is the third time Dick is asking this. He feels very stupid, yes, but he can't bring himself to ask more detailed questions. There's just too many confusing points.

Dan raises his head up, looking to the dark skies above them.

"If you say the eternal winter started here, then I believe I know what caused it," he says in a detached, emotionless voice.

Dick can't help but feel a spark of hope in his chest, "Really?!"

"Yes," Dan doesn't look at him, his flaming hair dimming slightly, "A destruction of a particularly powerful Ice Core would definitely achieve this effect." He pauses, and Dick knows he should ask for more context because he still understands nothing, but something in the man's posture, in his tight expression and firm line of his lips stops the words from coming.

So, instead, he asks, "How do you fix it?"

Dan's eyes finally snap back at him, and his eyes are red like blood and so, so tired.

"You can't fix death, Richard Grayson. It's too late."

~•~•~•~

I sure took my time with this one, I'm sorry.

I didn't get to explaining much in text - and I'm much too lazy to turn this into an actual fic even if it has the potential to be one - so, long story short, the Bad Fenton Parents Ending happened, only no one came to rescue. Danny spent too much time down in the lab, strapped to the table and cut open, but no one came. In the end, either Fentons have done something to his core, or he couldn't handle it anymore and self-destructed/destabilized from all the suffering. His core exploded, causing the winter apocalypse that quickly spread. Months/years later, what remained of the heroes have located the original source of where it all started from, and Nightwing went to investigate, looking for any kinds of clues to reverse the ice age.

Honestly, I kind of played with both the trope and the aesthetic here - I mean, it's definitely 'right person wrong time' when you think about it, Nightwing did find Daniel Fenton in the lab, but it was much too late, and it's definitely a 'winter evening' but probably not the one you expected.

At least I got the song alright? Actually, no, I twisted the whole meaning of it as well. Anyway, I like what it turned into, even if it's surprisingly depressing.

I'm adding a little aesthetic that I used for this piece:

Hope you like it!

[mcu-fan-fics-blog]

Routine V

Mini Series

Wanda Maximoff x fem wife!reader

Summary: Routines can get tiring quickly, especially when you’re the only one working towards keeping them.

A/n: We meet again friends. I am very happy to be updating this fic once more. Also happy to inform that I have found a direction in which to take it!!! I hope you enjoy reading it.

Word count: 1400 approx

She was at a crossroads, there was nothing that she could do to stop you from leaving. She hadn’t stopped pacing the room since you left. That's when she saw it… Her saving grace. Maybe if she did this one thing she could at least open the door if not maybe just unlock it, something. At this point that was definitely better than nothing. Your passport and what looked like important papers were left sitting on the kitchen counter. You had left in a furious haze, something was meant to be left behind. You just didn’t think it would be your passport and work visa. That was the one thing that you thought you had in lock, the one thing that you couldn't forget… And you forgot it. Truthfully you knew that something was missing the moment that you stepped into the car with Kate, but you chalked it up to the stress that Wanda had caused.   

There was a time that anything that remotely felt like a fight was a no go. You never wanted to fight with Wanda, nothing about arguing with her seemed pleasant. In the beginning it was obvious she was scared and all of it was new. You danced around obvious issues the two of you had. One issue was a rather big one being Vision. It was strange their connection. It was something you knew would have easily gone the other way had you not been in the picture. They understood each other; you felt like the odd man out in your own relationship with her. It wasn’t until you exploded one day that the issue was addressed. Thinking back Wanda should have seen this coming. It almost ended the relationship before it really even began. She was tempted to call you, she really was. But she’d just crossed a very big boundary. Instead she texted Kate.

Her text was read almost immediately the text bubble kept appearing but nothing was sent. Wanda instead sent another message. ‘I’ll meet you at the gate, lose Y/n for a minute and I’ll give you her passport.’ She only received a thumbs up and she was on her way. It was high time Wanda started taking action. She wasn’t going to fail you now. 

You were lying. You had no idea where you got the confidence from but it was a complete lie. You loved her so much it hurt. She didn’t read your mind that time and it hurt that she believed you. Tears welled in your eyes, this day wasn’t supposed to go like this. You were supposed to leave peacefully, and now you had no idea what you were doing. She shook you. Wanda came into your life and turned it upside down and now she’s done it again. It was rough. Kate had been fidgety for the past twenty minutes. “Are you okay?” You managed to get the words out. She stilled wide eyed. “Uhm shouldn’t I be asking you that?” You hummed. “Probably… I’m just tired of the same thing over and over again.” You sighed. “There are so many things that I wanted to say. But she was right in front of me and the words disappeared.” Kate nodded, her eyes still fixed on the road. 

“Do you think… that uhm you’ll get back together?” She asked the obvious question. It only made your shoulders deflate more. Not because she asked, “It’s not up to me.” but because of how pitiful the answer was. And it was entirely up to her. You hadn't even been able to bring yourself to draft the papers. The fear that she’d actually sign them still managed to keep you up at night. What if she did, what then? “My heart… it aches constantly. Like something was ripped from me.” Kate cleared her throat. “You’re leaving Y/n… You're going abroad for god knows how long.” You nodded. “How else can I show her what she’s doing to me? Years Kate I’ve put up with it for years.” Kate nodded. “I did not suffer in silence, I let her know at every turn how she was compromising us.” Your words were laced with anger and conviction. And so quickly the sadness gave way to raw anger.  

Wanda felt she should have thought this entire situation out more. Here she was in her car on her way to the airport, filled with hundreds if not thousands of people. And the most daunting part being that you’re unaware. Her mind was already starting to hold her hostage. She made the treck mostly on autopilot. Then there was the whole getting through security, nothing her powers couldn’t handle. Only she somehow couldn’t. She had not felt this lack of control since ultron, she was tripping where she had learned repeatedly not to. It was overwhelming navigating through the masses of people trying to get to their flights, homes, families. Everyone's thoughts traversed constantly. Eventually and not without struggle she had found Kate, near a coffee shop.

“Finally! I thought you’d make this hard for me.” Kate’s words washed right through her. The only thing she could hear now was an angry ring, mocking her. She shook her head softly trying to dissipate the sound. Then she stilled, she could sense it. Her powers out of pure reflex sought you out. And another pang of sadness ran through her. She’d never been able to sense your anger. A slap in the face a testament as to how unwelcome she truly was. A tug at her arm brought her back. She was clutching your passport in her hand. The folder already in Kate’s possession. Kate sighed. “Are you okay?” She relented and finally asked the question. That seemed to snap her out of whatever trance she was in. She let go of the Passaport like it burned her. Kate noticed her distress and asked again. “My powers… are acting up, I'll be fine.” Kate nodded, not fully convinced. 

Kate had decided she’d throw Wanda a life line. She did not think someone could make a change so drastically in a matter of hours. This Wanda that was standing in front of her was not the same one she witnessed yell indignantly at you. This Wanda looked defeated, vulnerable. “She’s still waiting for you…” Kate said. Taking the woman in, and for a moment she wasn’t sure Wanda had heard her. Then tears started rolling down her face. “I don’t think she is…” the words came out tersely and clipped. “She's angry, she has every right to be. That doesn’t change the fact that she’s waiting… so give her time.” Kate sighed, taking a step back. “Fight for her…” She turned on her heel and walked away. Wanda seconds later managed to do the same. Her resolve slowly cemented.

Kate made her way back just as you started looking for her. She looks slightly flushed. Two coffees in hand, a folder tucked in between her arm and torso. Your eyes widened at the sight. “I didn’t even realize I was missing that!” You exclaimed. Taking a cup out of her hand, and the folder at the same time. “Kate, you're a lifesaver.” She nodded, taking a long sip of her drink. Then silence followed, you could have sworn you felt something. It made your heart race. You remembered the familiar feeling. A slight fuzz just out of reach in your mind. You couldn’t help but look around. Could it be, or was it just her lingering in your mind. Then once again Kate brought you back into the present. “Here your boarding group is about to be called.” Kate pulled you up from your seat making toward the line now forming.

Right as your ticket was scanned. She pulled you to the side slightly. “Promise you’re coming back.” You managed a small smile. “I will, I don’t think your mother will keep me away forever.” You joked. Keeping an eye on the people boarding. Kate nodded trying to reassure herself. “You forgot your passport… she brought them here. That's why I was gone for a minute.” Your heart started racing. “I didn’t want to keep it from you.” Then before you could even respond an airline worker was ushering through into the boarding tunnel. The last thing Kate managed to say was for you to call her when you landed. 

A/n: Please leave a like if you liked it!!! Late because I completely forgot to schedule. :(

Tag list: @fxckmiup @username23345 @xxxtwilightaxelxxx​ 

[xetlynn]

Arcane imagines- Claggor

Old Friends, pt. two

[arcane] [main page]

Part two to [this]

You felt as if your body was buzzing all over. Almost as if it was rejecting whatever was happening currently. You were experiencing and seeing things you’ve never thought was possible. But even during everything you were still on the lookout for your little brother.

Panicking and crying out his name, throat tickling by the straining being done to your vocal chords. Fear filled your entire being. Until finally it all comes to a halting stop and your torso shoots up from a lying position. Gasping for air as if you had been underwater for a long period of time.

Your hand flung to your chest, clenching- almost clawing at it as your heart beats quickly. Once your vision unblurs you’re scanning the area. Taking in the scenery. “Ekko?” Your voice was feeble, small but not hoarse like you were expecting it to be. It was gentle. More than normal. Shakily getting up from a rather large mattress.

“Ekko?” A whisper this time. Of course there wasn’t a response in return but still you searched around the room as if he was hiding. Reminding you back to when Powder and him were young, forcing you to search for them. Only this time you weren’t positively sure he was to be found. “Oh, you’re finally up!” A deep but oddly familiar voice speaks.

You jump, grabbing onto a candle holder and pointing it over to whoever just scared the shit out of you. Threatening them with the metal stick, glared and panicked eyes staring at the figure in the doorway. Steps get closer, unsheathing the person. “You gonna hit me with a candle holder, sweetheart?” He comes into view and instantaneously you feel your heart drop along with the metal that clanged against the wooden floor.

Without even thinking your body moved on its own, running over to him and pushing yourself onto him. Arms flinging around him. “Claggor?” Tears built in your eyes as you cling onto him for dear life. He grunts against your tight grip, hugging you back nonetheless. “You okay? Have another one of those weird nightmares?”

His colossal size hand rubs up and down the small of your back. You whimper in response, not able to speak. He stays silent though, figuring you need to just hold onto him. But once he hears that little sniffle and his shoulder beginning to wet he attempts to pull you back.

The strength of your hold doesn’t let him though. “You were dead.” You hiccup. And Claggor believes he understands. “That type of dream, hm?” He takes your arms, forcing you to let him go and he makes you look at him in the face. “I’m here, mkay? I’m not going anywhere for a long time.” He assures you.

You take in his features. How strong his jawline is and the fact that he’s not wearing his goggles. This isn’t YOUR Claggor. He’s Claggor, somehow. But it can’t be the same one from all those years ago. You examine him, eyes wandering all over his face. “You- you’re so pretty.” You murmur, your small hands compared to his grab onto his face on either side.

Turning his head side to side. He smiles at your antics, letting you do whatever you please. “I’m pretty?” He repeats and you hum out a tiny “yes.” He chuckles, you were practically on your tiptoes as you do this. He’s incredibly tall. Almost a giant compared to you. “You had quite a glow up.” You comment, hands now trailing downward to his arms, squeezing his biceps.

This time earning a full on laugh from the man. You pause momentarily to glance over at his face. A twitch of your lips going upward, it’s been so long since you’ve heard that laugh. “Very large…” You say mainly to yourself but he hears. “You’re silly, but as much as I hate to cut this short, you need to go get ready. We have to go meet Pow and the others at The Last Drop.” He pecks your forehead before standing up straight.

You furrow your eyebrows at the name of the bar you haven’t heard in what felt like forever. “I’ll go make us some coffee while you get yourself dressed.” He tells you before leaving the room and shutting the door behind himself. You stand there idly, not knowing exactly what drawer is yours. Or even what’s happening at this moment.

You head to the first dresser in the room that's about a foot shorter than yourself. Where multiple picture frames sit, pictures of you and Claggor wearing nice, neat clothing. Smiling happily and holding onto one another. Another picture beside that one where you sit atop his lap in a white lace dress.

You look down at your left hand that adores a single silver band. “Married?” You gawk at the simple but beautiful wedding band before looking back up at the pictures. Multiple group photos with Powder, Mylo and Ekko. No Violet?

There’s even one with Silco? What the hell is this universe?

You snap out of it, remembering that he had said you have to be somewhere. You try to think where you’d put clothing. The third drawer? Pulling it open and luckily on the first try you were right. You take out a pair of pants and a regular shirt. Not knowing exactly what to put on.

You turn around and spot a mirror nailed onto the wall. Your face scrunches, not recognizing who you’re looking at. Stepping closer to it. Your hand touches your weirdly unscarred face. Eyebags gone and you look… healthy? Your skin seemed to be less pale. Were you taller?

A few knocks are heard at the door and you snap your head over. It creaks open just slightly. “You okay in here? Taking a bit longer than normal.” He snickers, coming in and placing down a mug filled with roasted goodness. “Oh, sorry. Just a bit out of it.” You smile, crinkling your eyes. He takes a sip of his own mug, waving you off.

“You’re fine sweetheart, some dreams mess you up.” He shrugs and as he stays standing there the two of you just stare at one another. “You gonna change?” He asks, pressing his lips into a thin line. “With you in here?” You defensively question.

“Sweetheart? I’ve seen you naked plenty of times. What’s different now?” He raises a brow and your face grows warm. How stupid of you, in this universe the two of you are married. “R-right. Um, can you close your eyes? I’m feeling a little… self conscious this morning.” You lie and his face softens but does as asked. Closing his eyes for you.

You let out a sigh of relief. Roughly taking off your pajamas before shuffling on clean ones. “Okay, done!” You huff out, carrying the dirty pajamas in one of your hands. “Awesome.” He comes over to you, grabbing the laundry from you.

•••

As you’re walking through Zaun you’re amazed by how bright and happy looking everything is. Instead of the darkness and fight people went through back home. Your home.

Your hand fit nicely in your husbands as you enter the bar. The energy was different from when you were a teenager. Sneaking into the bar to see what was happening. “Hey lovebirds!” A voice booms and you feel like you were going to cry already. “Vander!” You smile, letting go of Claggor’s hand.

“How are you doing, [Name]?” He asks whilst making a drink and you beam. “I’m good, rough morning but nonetheless good. How are you?” You sit down at the bar. To him you were acting as if you hadn’t seen one another in months when in reality it had only been a few days. For you, it had been what felt like an eternity.

“I’m alright,” He chuckles, peering back to your husband who shrugs his shoulders, his hand going to your hip and laying there. An action that causes you to tense up, gazing up at him. Relaxing and smiling at him. He does the same in return. “Is uh… Is Benzo around?” You anxiously ask, hoping that he’s not dead in this universe as well.

“Ye-” “Am I around? Acting like I’ve died since the last time you’ve seen me!” Your face drops and you spin around, almost falling off as you do so. Jumping off the chair to pull him into a hug.

“Oof! Woah there!” He pats your back, letting out a small laugh while doing so. “You and your brother sure are acting weird today.” He comments and you let him go, gripping onto his shoulders. “Where’s Ekko?” You spit out.

•••

And now you’re with him, standing where your home would be in your guys’ universe. Empty, showing no signs of life. “I can’t believe you said that to her.” You grimace and he nudges you. “It wasn’t on purpose.” He defends himself, causing you to laugh. “I know but you do not have a way with words. Like at all.” You bare your teeth.

“And you’re married in this universe. That’s crazy.” He changes the subject to which you roll your eyes. Looking down at the ring on your finger. Fidgeting with it with your thumb. “Yeah…” You trail off.

“Is it weird? For you?” He asks and you tilt your head. “All of this is weird, Ekko.”

“No I know, I just. Powder or Jinx whatever is still alive. I never truly experienced her actual death. You experienced Claggors. And to see him alive? How does it feel?”

You stay quiet momentarily, chewing at your bottom lip as you truly think about what he’s asking. “It’s strange. Hearing his voice- a deeper version at that. Seeing what he would’ve grown into. What we would’ve grown into.” You blink away tears harshly. “That this is never possible where we come from. That the last time I ever saw him was dead against a wall with Mylo on the other side of me. Somehow I lived.” You avert his gaze that focused on you as you spoke.

“I- I hate this as it’s a reminder that this isn’t mine. But I love it, selfishly because I can have him here. I can love him here, proudly and loudly. Not having to grip onto a pair of goggles whenever I want to see him. I can just go… see him.” You overly explain to him as a singular tear falls down your left eye.

“You don’t plan on leaving with Heimerdinger and I, do you?” He quietly asks and you look up at him. “I couldn’t do that to you.” You answer him truthfully.

“But if I told you I think you should stay. Would you?” The both of you sit down against the large wall. Your silence was an answer within its own but he repeats himself. “Are you telling me I should stay?”

“I think you deserve to be selfish for once.” He wraps an arm around your shoulder and you lean into him. “I’ll think about it.” You rasp, closing your eyes.

[livingformintyoongi]

The Hunger Games | Kim Taehyung

a/n: Yes, this is not as well produced as the rest of my work because it's a stupid project I'm doing based on this publication I made, because if I'm going to push people to show their never finished projects, then I'm also going to participate showing this fragment I wrote a LONG time ago :))

Warnings: THG!AU, a little angsty, Reader is rather clumsy and soft (yes, I like characters that are shown to be weak, condemn me), and just that, it's short 🙂

"Are you still awake?" Taehyung whispered over your hair, both arms wrapped protectively around your waist. You were almost sure he hadn’t taken his hands off you since he set foot on the arena.

"Yeah, it's hard to sleep knowing that at any moment someone could jump on us to attack," you murmured, snuggling even closer to his chest, clinging to the false hope that this way, you might find some peace.

"No one would dare approach us. Our allies are some of the strongest—we have Chaewoon and Yoongi, two of the most ruthless winners. Then there’s Sooah, Jiwon, and Jungkook, some of the strongest fighters. And, of course, we have Namjoon. He won the games purely with his intelligence. We have nothing to worry about—"

"Taehyung," you interrupted before he could continue, turning to face him. It was still nighttime, and neither of you was willing to light a fire, so the only illumination was the moonlight. Your delicate features stood out even more under the blueish glow, and Taehyung couldn’t help but think how beautiful you looked, even in a situation as hopeless as the Hunger Games.

"We may have the strongest and smartest players, but everyone in this arena has won a game before. And let’s not forget the fact that they all did it by their own merit..." You paused for a moment before continuing, a small pang in your chest making it hard to say what had been weighing on your mind ever since they announced you would be fighting in the Games again. "Everyone except me."

"Honey—"

"No, Taehyung, don’t try to make it seem like I did something incredible, like my victory was as legendary as everyone else’s," you kept your gaze lowered, unable to meet his eyes as you let out all the fears you had kept bottled up until now. "The only reason I won the Games was because I got lucky. We both know it—everyone knows it! That’s the only reason people even remember me out there. ‘How did she dodge that arrow?’ ‘What were the odds that a beehive would fall right onto that player?’ ‘How did she find food that another tribute couldn't get to because of the distance and difficulty?’"

Your grip on Taehyung’s suit tightened slightly, your forehead pressed against his chest as if it could shield you from his gaze.

"I never killed anyone, not a single person. My weapon is completely clean. If someone were to attack us right now, I wouldn’t be able to defend myself. I never passed any trials, not even the agility test..." You licked your lips before continuing, the lump in your throat tightening now that you were finally voicing your deepest fear. "I’m a burden to all of you, Taehyung," you whispered against his chest, feeling how his arms tensed around your waist. "If another team comes after us, you’d be too busy keeping me alive to worry about yourself, and the same goes for the others. I’m a liability, and everyone knows it. There’s no way I can be of any help. I can’t even swim. I can barely run properly without tripping halfway through. And it’s too dangerous for you to keep carrying me on your back all the time."

"What are you trying to say, Y/N?" Taehyung murmured, his grip on you tightening even more. He couldn't even tell where he ended and where you began. "Because if you’re telling me all this just to say we should split from the group, then—"

"You don’t have to come with me," you shook your head, pressing your face against his chest, needing to feel him as close as possible, to the point where you could hear his heartbeat growing louder. "I don’t want you to. I want you to live, Tae. I want to stop being a burden to you."

"You are not a fucking burden, Y/N. You are my fiancée," he growled softly, resting his face in the crook of your neck. You were fully aware of how much this conversation angered him—you had been from the moment the thought first crossed your mind. But it was the best thing, for everyone, for him, and he had to understand that somehow.

"I can’t just leave you behind and go as if you don’t matter to me, because you are the best thing that has ever happened in my life. I don’t want to do it, and I won’t. You want to leave the group? Fine, do it. But I’m going with you," he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes searching yours desperately. He needed you to understand how he felt, that he would never, ever leave you alone, no matter what.

"I’ve respected every single one of your decisions, no matter how ridiculous they seemed to others. But with this? With this, you don’t get a choice, baby. I’m going wherever you go. Always."

"It’s dangerous for you to be with me."

"It’s dangerous for you to be alone."

"I don’t want you to die because of me."

"And do you think I do? You said it yourself—you’re clumsy, you don’t know how to handle a weapon properly without hurting yourself. If I leave you here alone… just thinking about it, I—"

He pursed his lips, studying your face intently. He lifted a hand to your cheek, caressing it as if your skin were made of the most delicate and precious material in existence. And to him, you were.

A fragile body, a heart too soft, too easily broken. To him, you were the most beautiful woman in the world—if not the entire universe. You were the love of his life, someone he never thought he would get to meet. But there you were, lying beside him, looking only at him, wearing a ring that, in a few months, would bind you together for life.

"I love you too much to risk your life for nothing, Y/N."

He rested his forehead against yours, noses brushing, lips just inches apart, breathing the same air.

"Don’t do this to us, please, I beg you," he whispered against your lips, running his hands through your golden strands before resting them on your nape. His dark eyes locked onto yours, a quiet smile forming inside him as he saw your pupils dilate, as he felt your much smaller hands clutching his clothes like your life depended on it.

You could say you wanted to go your separate ways, but your body told an entirely different story.

"Stay with us," he murmured, his lips barely touching yours as he spoke. "Stay with me."

Before you could respond, Taehyung closed the distance, his fingers tangling in your hair, his arms pulling you closer until every inch of your body was pressed against his.

You had kissed before, many times—sometimes briefly, other times with deeper emotion. But this? This was different from any kiss you had shared before.

It felt like a last one.

More desperate than any other, yet filled with uncertainty and a silent plea neither of you dared to voice. The hand he had kept on your cheek now tried to wipe away the tears that had started falling—tears he was sure you had been holding back for days.

The kiss didn’t last more than a few minutes, but it felt like hours. Hours neither of you wanted to end.

When you pulled away for air, Taehyung followed, seeking more, needing more. He didn’t want to let you go. He didn’t want to lose you.

"I’m scared, Tae," you whispered between soft sobs, looking at him with so much desperation and fear that he felt his heart clench.

His eyes locked onto yours with determination, trying to appear as confident as possible, to make his words feel like undeniable truth.

"I’ll get you out of this alive, baby. I’ll get both of us out. I promise."

[purplehairedwonder]

Another ask meme prompt for you! I wish you'd write a snippet where Law gets deaged and boy is it weird to see him so small. And thinking Doflamingo means safety?

This was a lot of fun to write, Ceri!

“What’s going on Bepo?” Penguin asked for the fourth time since Bepo had come to grab him and Shachi from where they’d been cleaning up the galley after breakfast. Bepo had wrung his paws in front of himself and simply told them he had to show them something. “Just tell us.”

“Yeah, if it’s about Captain—” Shachi started to add.

“Just wait,” Bepo snapped before adding, “Sorry. But I… don’t know how to explain this.” Penguin and Shachci exchanged startled looks.

“Explain what?”

But Bepo just shook his head, and the other two were forced to follow until they reached the door to Law’s room. He paused outside the door and turned back to Penguin and Shachi. He bit his lip nervously. But rather than say anything, he shook his head and opened the door. He stepped inside, and, curiously, Penguin and Shachi followed. 

As Bepo shut the door behind them, Penguin froze at the sight that greeted him: there was a child standing in the middle of Law’s room, swamped by a Heart Pirates hoodie—the one Law had been wearing when Penguin saw him last the night before. 

“What’s a kid doing here?” Shachi demanded incredulously. “Where’s Law?”

“I’m Law, you bastard,” the kid snarled. Penguin stiffened. “I don’t know who you are or how you know my name, but I already told the bear—if you don’t let me go, my captain is going to make you regret it.”

“Your captain,” Penguin said slowly, though he already knew what the kid was going to say before the words left his mouth.

“Donquixote Doflamingo.”

The room went silent, and Penguin took the opportunity to study the kid. He was younger than Law was when they’d first met, though it was hard to judge his age considering how small he was. Law told them he’d gone to Spider Miles when he was ten, so if Penguin had to guess, he would have put the kid around eleven. Despite his scrawny frame, though, his face still held onto some baby fat that Law had shed once he’d hit his growth spurt at fifteen. He was pale—even his hair looked more gray than black—and had white spots on his visible skin. But the sharp golden eyes were familiar—and the only part of Law that didn’t seem washed out. 

This was definitely Law—or at least a Law—but how? Time travel? Penguin never would have believed it, but the samurai currently on their ship claimed to be from twenty years in the past. But if this was Law from the past, where was their Law?

Or, Penguin thought as he looked more closely at the hoodie, noticing the faint blood stain on the cuff from Straw Hat’s lengthy surgery that no amount of washing had ever quite managed to get out, was this their Law?

Whatever the case, this was Law before Corazon had taken him away and changed the entire trajectory of his life. This was Law with Amber Lead in his veins and an uncontrollable rage in his heart—one, according to Law, that Doflamingo had sought to stoke so he could mold Law into the shape of his choosing. 

For as long as Penguin had known Law, he’d hated Doflamingo. It wasn’t until he’d had a panic attack upon learning that Doflamingo had become a Warlord that he’d finally told them a bit about his time with the Donquixote Pirates and Corazon. 

Hell, it had only been a few weeks since Law had come back to the Hearts, his fight against Doflamingo finally over after thirteen years of obsession. While the bandages around his chest and arm had come off, Penguin could tell he was still favoring the arm the feathered bastard had cut off. (Just thinking about that made nausea roil in Penguin’s gut.) To hear him now invoking the man’s name as some sort of protector was just wrong.

Next to Penguin, Shachi had gone equally still, the look on his face mirroring the shock Penguin felt. Behind them, Bepo let out a soft whimper, which the kid took for fear. He smirked, a cold and cruel thing with jagged edges sharp as broken glass.

“So, you’ve heard of him.”

“Yeah,” Shachi choked out. “We’ve heard of him.”

“Obviously you’ve heard of him,” Law said, glancing down at the hoodie cocooning his scrawny frame with a sneer. “You copied his Jolly Roger.”

Penguin let out a bark of laughter before covering his mouth with his hand when Law glared at him.

“If you know who he is, then you know the kind of trouble you’ll be in if you don’t let me go,” Law said, crossing his arms in satisfaction. The effect was, admittedly, ruined by the too-long sleeves that overhung his arms. “He’ll be looking for me.”

“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem,” Shachi muttered. Not with Doflamingo as the newest inmate at Impel Down.

Law’s eyes narrowed. “If you’re not worried about Doflamingo, then you’re either extremely strong or extremely stupid.” He looked each of the three of them up and down before raising his chin haughtily. “And none of you look very strong.”

Shachi let out an indignant squawk while Bepo muttered an apology under his breath, but Penguin couldn’t help but snort. Some things never changed.

“Look, kid—” he started.

“I have a name.”

“—Doflamingo isn’t coming for you.”

“You don’t know that,” Law retorted. “He takes care of his Family.”

Shachi coughed, and Penguin elbowed him in the side. 

“Doflamingo’s in the North Blue, right?” Law glowered but didn’t argue, as much an agreement as they were bound to get. “We’re currently several hundred meters below the surface in the New World.”

The kid’s eyes widened then. “You’re lying. That’s not possible.”

“It’s true,” Bepo piped up. “Sorry,” he added when Law turned his glower on him.

“But,” Penguin added, pulling the kid’s attention away from Bepo, “we’re not interested in holding you. We’ll do our best to get you back where you belong.” He lifted his arms in a shrug. “No harm, no foul.”

“But—”

“Glad you see it our way,” Penguin interrupted. “Now, why don’t you stay here while we figure out how to get you back where you belong.”

“Hey, wait!”

But Penguin turned and ushered the other two from the room, shutting the door behind them. Thankfully, this Law didn’t have the Ope Ope fruit, though Penguin knew he didn’t need it to be a menace. Someone would have to keep an eye on the door until they figured out what was going on.

“What are you doing, Peng?” Shachi demanded once the door was shut. 

“I think that’s Law,” Penguin said.

“Well, yeah, he said so himself.”

Penguin shook his head. “No, I mean, I think he’s our Law.”

Shachi frowned. “So, you think, what, Cap got… de-aged or something?”

Bepo’s eyes widened. “But how?”

Penguin shrugged. “Devil fruit? A D.’s luck? Straw Hat? Hell if I know. But the hoodie is the one he was wearing yesterday.”

Bepo worried his bottom lip. “He seemed like he’d been in Law’s bed when I came to wake him up. Maybe?”

“If that’s Law,” Shachi said slowly, and they all turned back to the door, behind which they could hear the not-so-quiet mutterings of their adolescent captain, “then how the hell do we fix him?”

Penguin grimaced. “And preferably before we take on an Emperor.”

“Send me the summary of a fic you wish I’d write, and I’ll write a snippet”

See all the other snippets here.

[majoryeager104]

𝔅𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔪, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔟𝔩𝔞𝔪𝔢 𝔦𝔱 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤

012 (Final)

𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

“𝐴𝑙𝑙 𝑤𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑜 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑢𝑠“ － 𝑗． 𝑟． 𝑟． 𝑡．

Summary: an au where Touya was taken into custody after his initial fight with Shoto. The final scene, where Touya finally learns why he’s gotten this shot at redemption.

Warnings: a teensy weensy bit of language 🤏

Touya Todoroki x gn!childhood friend reader

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It didn’t seem like much time at all had past since Touya had walked up to the table and seen Keigo Takami, Hawks, of all people. Even though he spent all night awake, wondering just why he’d gotten involved, the night seemed to go by like a quick breeze. While Hawks’ arrival brought him some confusion, he'd decided that night not to let it bother him when they went out the next day. But this posed one small issue;

While the thought of Hawks being there wouldn’t bother him, he didn’t realize just how much the actual situation would.

He got up around 6 AM, deciding he’d laid awake staring at the ceiling long enough. He got dressed, then opened the blinds as he usually did, just another part of his perfectly maintained routine, except today would be different. It was still dark outside, the sunlight barely peeking in over the horizon as he walked out of his room and into the kitchen.

Maybe it was his mood, the excitement he’d built up overnight about the day ahead, or maybe it was just for the heck of it, but Touya made everyone breakfast that morning. He used some pancake mix from one of the cabinets and, despite somehow barely getting the texture right, he managed to make some rather dense but tasty pancakes for the family as each of them got up and came out.

Rei came first- she had always been an early riser- and had the brightest smile on her face when she spotted her oldest son in the kitchen, attempting to flip a rather large pancake. She walked over and helped him, hugging him good morning as he rolled his eyes at her assistance. “I got it, mom” he muttered, but he couldn’t hide the glint in his eyes when he looked down at her, that certain look of fondness that he’d always spared for her.

Next was Fuyumi, and you came out shortly after. Fuyumi fawned over how sweet it was that Touya was making breakfast for everyone, and you followed suit. He had to usher the both of you out of the kitchen for some peace and quiet. He’d been so preoccupied in receiving your little praises that he’d burnt some pancakes while looking at you. Fuyumi was the one to point it out, teasingly so, and while Touya nudged her out you tried to console him about it. He grumbled, throwing away the failed attempt and starting anew, shooting you a gentle look of annoyance.

Shoto came out some time after this, standing in the doorway with a small smile tugging at his lips at the sight of Touya wrestling nudging you two out of the kitchen. He walked up to the stove, looking at the pancakes as Touya approached him, looking ready to drag move him out too. Shoto merely raised his hands in surrender, backing away and saying thank you. Touya chuckled at that, and told Shoto he could stay. Turns out, Shoto didn’t know how to make pancakes, so Touya spent the next few minutes teaching him.

Last was Natsuo, very late in the morning. He’d taken so long in fact that Touya had gone into his room to wake him so his breakfast wouldn’t be cold. You can probably imagine the look of surprise on his face when he saw his brother standing over his bed with that furrowed brow and the grumbly tone he used. But in that look of surprise, there was something about it so familiar that Natsu couldn’t help but smile and play along to his big brothers grumpy protests like he always had.

And all the while Keigo was laying on the couch with a grin on his face, having stayed over night for no reason whatsoever other than because he wanted to.

It took a hot minute for Touya to realize he was there. He’d been so preoccupied with cooking and talking with everyone that it was only when he sat down with his own breakfast that he saw Hawks, sitting on the couch, legs crossed, scrolling on his phone. The hero looked up, smiling “did ya make me any?” “Fuck no”

From then on, Touya’s positive mood seemed mostly out the window. There was something about having that ‘bird-brained freak’ around that was inextricably nerve wracking. You told him not to mind the hero, putting a hand on his shoulders, and he’d clench his jaw and insist that he didn’t mind, but every side eye and blunt reply to Hawks’ conversation starters told you otherwise.

“There’s no need to be so snappy, Touya”

“leave me alone”

“I’m only here for the sake of public perception”

“So you’re a confirmed narcissist?”

“I mean your public perception. People would freak out if a known villain was waltzing around town without a familiar face around. I’m gonna be there to put the people at ease, and then I’ll be gone again”

“Then why are you here now?”

Hawks chuckled, standing up and walking over to stand over Touya. The former villain eyed the retired hero very carefully, crossing his arms. “Because I felt like it.” Keigo said simply, and, to Touya’s great annoyance, ruffled his white hair. Touya growled, hunching grumpily in his chair. Keigo laughed at that, glancing back down at his phone. “You know Toga wasn’t so snappy with me when I met with her” he said with a chuckle. Touya glanced up at that, a bit of his rough demeanor peeled away. “You saw Himiko?” He asked, his eyes still uncertain. He hadn’t been sure if she’d even made it out alive.

“oh yeah, I didn’t think it would happen though, she was beat up really bad” Keigo spoke, glad he’d caught Touya’s interest. “She’s fine now, Touya.” he reassured him subtly, his eyes never leaving Touya’s face, watching every shift in expression very carefully. Touya clenched his jaw and rolled his eyes, “of course she is.” But despite his tone, his shoulders previous tension eased. Keigo smirked at this, and after a minute or two he spoke up again. “so, you guys ready to leave?”

Even Touya was quick to respond, in his own way, standing up and quickly going over to wash his plate. You had him put on a sweatshirt and a face mask, for the sake of privacy, before he walked towards the door. Sure he’d tried to maintain some composure as he did so, but you could see the eagerness in his eyes as the lot of you went to the front door. He followed, watching Keigo turn the knob, and one after the other you all funneled out. Touya watched you as you turned around and gave him a reassuring look, grabbing his hand and squeezing it as you pulled him out last.

He blinked in the bright morning light, looking around. He’d been locked up in the house so long that he’d almost forgotten where it was. Your old residence, the place he’d spend all his summer days growing up. Inside, it was hard to tell it was the same house- so much had been brought in and removed when he was brought in. But outside it looked exactly the same. And now, green grass and flowers were growing through the stone walkway to the sidewalk.

“alright welcome everyone and thanks for flying air hawks”

Keigo spoke dramatically from the front.

“you can’t fly anymore fucker”

Touya replied from the back.

Keigo went quiet.

You gasped.

Natsu snorted.

Touya cackled rather diabolically.

“you really had to go and be so mean right when I was gonna be a kind person and tell the guards not to cuff you” Keigo replied, his smile returning as he gestured everyone to move. “Oh well, I‘ll take the high road anyways” Keigo said, winking at you. Now that definitely made Touya grumpy, especially the way you laughed afterwards. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, glad he had this face mask on or else everyone would see the prominent frown ever present on his face.

As the group walked, Touyas narrow eyes lingered on hawks, who was gradually slowing down to walk next to him, that lopsided grin of his plastered on his face as he spoke, that dramatic flare returning, causing Touya to roll his eyes. “Can you smell that?” “Dear god…” “flowers blooming everywhere…” “I fucking hate you.” “I fucking hate you too, man.” “then why the fuck are you here?!”

Keigo paused, chuckling at Touya’s abrupt question, before pointing at you. You were walking in the front, looking very much at ease for once, chatting with Natsuo and Fuyumi like the last several years had never happened. Touya glared at Keigo. “And? Don’t tell me you’ve got a-” “you really think I’d imprison you and steal your partner? Come on, what kind of a man do you take me for?” Touya glared for a moment before speaking “You don’t want to know”

“it wouldn’t hurt to tell you. Sometime after you’d been arrested, the main goal of the hero’s commission was to execute you and Toga. After that information had leaked to your family, y/n came storming into my office, grabbed me by my collar, and demanded I step in.”

Touya raised a brow. He knew you’d gone to certain lengths to keep him alive, but this was certainly something. Wait, if he’d stepped in from the beginning… “don’t tell me…” but his words were interrupted “I was so convinced- and by that I mean terrified- that I ended up funding the entire project, as well as working security and making arrangements for your release. I’ve ‘been here’ since the get-go.”

Touya stared at Keigo for a moment before looking at you. “I don’t get it… why do all this? Himiko too… all this trouble for a bunch of villains?”

Keigo chuckled, patting his shoulder. “All this trouble, for decent people who were dealt terrible cards in life. I’ve been in low places too, you know.” The usual peppy tone was gone as he spoke. Touya looked over at him, meeting those sharp yellow eyes that spelled out the answer clearly. But just as that determined look appeared, it was gone again, melting into a smile as he smacked Touya’s back.

“so just appreciate the opportunity. After all, you took it. What was it you said in that interrogation room? ‘You’ll let us sons of bitches rehabilitate you?’ I’d say it worked...and you did good”

Touya froze, Keigos words setting in. “Of course that was you behind the glass.” He muttered, catching up again. “Yup” Keigo grinned. “And I have hidden cameras all over the house and have been watching you 24/7 for the past half a year. Boring work but hey, it beats papers”

Touya shot him a glare “all over the house?” Keigo chuckled “relaaax, I gave you some privacy” Touya rolled his eyes, sighing. “Done chatting big guy?” Keigo said, tilting his head to the side “never wanted to in the first place…but thanks.. I guess”

“awwww you’re welcome” Keigo practically cooed, but if you’ve known him long enough you could see past the facade; he’d been genuinely glad to help. Touya rolled his eyes again, flipping off the hero- who snorted and returned the gesture- before catching up to you.

“hey” he said, looking over at you. You smiled, tilting your head ever so slightly. For the first time in weeks it seemed your smile reached your eyes. “hey” you replied, and gosh even your voice sounded lighter. You were so pretty in the spring sunshine, he’d been stuck indoors so long he’d nearly forgotten how in your element you seemed.

He tugged you under his arm, moving the mask on his face to kiss your temple. He often found himself giving you quick kisses like that. It had been so long since you’d kissed him back that he hadn’t expected it when you turned your head and pulled him down till your lips met his. Just a moment, and you pulled away and slid his mask back on. Everyone acted like they didn’t notice, but you could hear Rei giggle behind you.

Touya on the other hand had gone completely dazed, watching as you walked ahead of him once more. “Hurry up, Touya” you grinned at him over your shoulder, looking absolutely radiant for the first time in a long time. It took him a moment to catch up, but when he did a big smile had completely taken over his face behind the mask. Now you’d done it. It was finally clicking for him that you’d really managed to change his mind in the end. He was saveable.

The end :,)

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𝚃𝚊𝚐 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 <𝟹 @greenmanshoe @shaunarcanine @sugurusmoon @hktfbuo @sweetlike-sugarplum @porusuniverse

It’s over 😭😭😭 I could cry yall have no idea how much effort I put into these but I’m so proud and I really hope you enjoyed this series, it means a lot to me, so I’m glad you’ve followed along 🩵🩵🩵

ps fuck yeah I gave it a horimiya ass ending TOUYA DESERVES A WALK-INTO-THE-SUNSET AHH HAPPILY EVER AFTER AHH ENDING OKAY

[llovely-12]

The End is near

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Ot9 Twice x female reader {Platonic}

Warnings: Angst, tenth-member reader, no happy ending, slight homophobia, hate comments

Story: seven years of Twice. Most of the members are sure to renew their contract, yet one member struggles with the decision.

Authors note: I finally finished this work. It took pretty long due to school starting again and other stuff happening, yet I finally finished it. I hope you enjoy the read♥︎

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Jeongyeons apartment is filled with life. Laughter bounces of the walls, and a happy atmosphere is spread throughout the apartment. It's one of their game nights.

Twice has been together for over seven years now. Even longer if you think about the trainee days. Those ten women have reached so much together. Almost all of their moments have been spent with each other.

Everyone sits around a large table. The board game Monopoly is placed in the middle of the table. Some members like Momo and Sana are already broke, while others like Jihyo and Nayeon still fight for the win. Everyone is having a lot of fun. It's rare to see the group together like this outside of work. Their private lives mostly filled work related stuff.

Jihyo sets her figure three steps ahead and groans. Dahyun grins.

"That'll be five hundred Won for me, please." She smiles mischievously. Jihyo walked onto a street that Dahyun owned and just built a house on. Jihyo grumbles and grabs a five hundred Won note and hands it to the younger member.

Nayeon laughs at Jihyo's money loss and continues her turn by buying another street. Now Nayron had the most money and the most streets. The oldest member and the leader of the group often got in fights over board games like this. Both of them are too competitive to let the other win.

Jeongyeon refills the glasses around the table and opens yet another snack box. Momo immediately grabs some snacks and pops them into her mouth while watching the game. Boo and dobby sit by her chair and dose off.

It's your turn. You throw the dice and move your figure right onto Nayeons precious little street. Or rather her death trap. The street is full of one hotel and another house. Nayeon smirks into your direction and holds out her hand for the money. You sigh and count for the amount. Unfortunately, your entire money goes to Nayeon, kicking you out of the game as well.

Jeongyeon only chuckles and puts a hand on your shoulder for comfort.

"You know how she is. She just can not lose for shit."

You nod and lean into your unnies arms. She embraces you and rests her head on your shoulder. Sana also snuggles into you and rests her head on your other shoulder. The three of you now watch Jihyo and Nayeon kick the school meal club out of the game.

You have to hold Nayeon and Jihyo back to not kill each other in the end. The game ends with two winners. Jeongyeon quickly hides the board games so that no other member is put at risk.

Mina sits down next to you. A nice and quiet conversation starts. Most of the members are occupied with their own task now, the night ending in a warm and comfortable feeling.

☆★

The clock strikes two AM. Sweat rolls of your face. It's another sleepless night for you. The stress has been eating you up lately.

Ever since the company suggested a solo, you've been filled with anxiety. It would be the first time being alone, having to perform without Twice. You roll over and reach for your bedside table. An already opened pack of sleeping pills meets your hand. You pop one into your mouth and drown it with a bit of water.

The hope for a good amount of sleep fills your mind as you try to get comfortable under the sheets. You stare at the wall ahead of you. Pictures of you and your friends and family greet you. There are also pictures of Twice.

You've been together for seven years. It's a crazy amount of time. Nothing has ever separated you and the group. So, the thought of being alone during a solo just made you anxious. You still don't know how any of your Unnies did so well during their solos.

After careful consideration, you reach for your phone and make a call. You wait patiently until you hear her soft, but groggy voice.

"Y/n? It's late. Is everything okay?"

"Mina unnie, how did you feel during your first solo with Misamo?"

Mina sighs. She has already talked with you about your chance to get a solo debut. She knew how you felt about it, and she knew that you needed solitude more than ever.

"I'm heading over. Is your key still under the plant?" You hum and hang up.

-

Mina finds you curled up in bed. Your eyes stare up at her. It's clear that you're tired. Mina's thoughts went back to her own solo with Misamo and the time where she went on hiatus.

She carefully gets under the covers and holds you close. The comfortable silence is enough to calm you down. Her hands rub your back and lull you into a state of drowsiness.

"It was scary at first. Being away from the members during a solo is never easy. I know I had Sana and Momo. They helped me a lot. I know the members are proud of you, and we will all support you. You don't have to be so nervous. I will always be available for you."

Her words give you more clearance on the situation, a new perspective you needed desperately. Mina knew her way with words and how to calm a member. She was in that position once herself.

You don't say anything as no word cane to your mind. It was already occupied with the thoughts of the Twice members visiting you during your solo. How proud each of them would look. Dahyun would cry while looking at you with those bright and fond eyes. Jihyo would empower you in every step. Each member had their own way of showing support.

The effects of the sleeping pill slowly start. Your brain starts shutting off. It's like the medication switches off one light switch after the other. Mina keeps holding you until you fall asleep. She takes her leave shortly after, leaving a note on your bedside table to assure you that she is fine and had a meeting early in the morning.

Your dreams haven't been this happy in weeks. They're filled with happy faces and warm gestures, making you excited for your new solo.

☆★

It is a chilly night. You spent your evening at this bar on the outskirts of seoul. Your goal is not to be recognized, as this has happened almost every time you went out. Most idols seek out secret spots only to be left alone and relapse the old trainee days. You sit in one of the corners. The bars' lights are darkened down. The entire place has a dark and smokey vibe to it.

You sip a few times at your soju glass. Alcohol was never really your thing, though you liked the little get-together you achieved through it. You stare at your phone and enjoy the calm atmosphere of the bar. The music is soft and not overbearing, perfect if you want to have a conversation.

You glance around the seats and spot on of your colleagues, Kang Seulgi. She smiles at you. Her hands secure her glaas while she makes her way over to you. You've met plenty before throughout award shows, yet you occasionally met up with the other idol.

"Didn't think you would be here." Seulgi smiles at you and sits down on the chair next to you.

"Yeah, I needed some peace from all of the stress. This bar is just amazing for that."

Seulgi nods in understanding. She orders new drinks for both of you and starts a light conversation. Her talks keep your mind occupied with the current situation. It's good that someone doesn't pressure you into work talks. Then it is also nice to talk to someone who's not Twice. You love your unnies with all your heart, but you also need someone who's not part of everything you do.

Seulgi is a great friend. She always had one ear open for you. You could tell her everything and she would listen. The best thing is, she sometimes didn't even suggest a way to help. She just listened to your troubles and let you rant about life.

A simple drink turned into a few more, and soon, you were all fuzzy. Seulgi decides it's time to call it a night. She securely leads you out of the bar after paying for both of your checks. Her hand rests on your lower back while she leads you out of the bar and onto the streets of seoul. The temperature had fallen throughout your stay at the bar. Seulgi is quick to put her warm jacket around your shoulders.

The friendship you had was always platonic. You simply cherished the time you and seulgi spent together, and you knew she did too. Her love almost resembles one of an older sister. There would never be anything romantic going of between you two.

Some paparazzi of dispatch thought differently. Their cameras already pointed at the scene. At the way, her hand rests at your lower back and how you look in her jacket. Headlines race through their heads while eagerly snapping pictures.

They follow you for a few streets before almost vanishing. Neither you nor Seulgi noticed the sneaky photo session. Dispatch paparazzi are the worst. They somehow always find a way of ruining someone's evening or their whole career.

Seulgi walks you home to your apartment and makes sure that you're safe and sound before departing and returning home herself.

Your sleep is peaceful, even though the headlines are already in production. Speculations and rumours have already been written down and formulated. Though this doesn't bother you, at least not now.

☆★

Your phone pulls you out of your deep sleep. You open your eyes slowly and glance onto the phone screen. Jihyo‘s profile picture shines brightly, underneath are the accept and the decline button. You scoff and decline her call. It’s still early, and you are not in the mood to talk right now.

Not even a minute passes until Jihyo calls you again. This time, you let the phone ring and decide not to answer at all. Jihyo waits until the ringing is over and almost yells into her phone.

'Pick up the fucking call Y/n!'

You startle and turn back to your phone. You hesitantly reach out and call Jihyo back. She answers immediately.

"Do you even know what's going on right now?!"

"No. Is it important? I'm really tired Jihyo and I-"

She cuts you off halfway through your sentence.

"Check the news, Y/n. The pictures are everywhere. Our manager ordered a meeting with the CEO. Please be at the company in two hours."

Jihyo hangs up after she's done. You stare at the wall and then at your phone. Why would the company need you at this hour? It is four AM. The meeting would be at six.

You check your emails and search for recent news to satisfy Jihyo's request. The pictures hit you like a truck. The headlines are even worse. The scene displayed on the pictures seems scandalous, at least to everyone who's not involved.

Seugi's hand on your lower back, her jacket around your shoulders, the look you give each other. It's everything the press needed to form half-hearted rumours. You read through some of the articles. It's hilarious. Everything speculated is far from the truth. Yet only you and seulgi know that.

A dating scandal was the last thing you expected right now. This would put some heavy bricks in your way. Let alone the fact that you and Seulgi are both women. The netizens will eat you up. They already are. The comments are brutal and violent.

You try to keep positive and get ready for the meeting.

☆★

"You're solo will be postponed until further notice. The backlash is too much right now. We also have to post an official statement."

"What? I thought the solo was already in production? You can't just postpone this. I was preparing for this already."

You let out your frustration at the sudden decision. Jihyo and your manager sit close to you. The leader of Twice shares your frustration.

"I'm sorry, but the situation is too tense right now. If we do release your solo, it would flop and result in low income. That's not something we'd want."

You lean back into your chair and look at the CEO. He's right with his arguments, yet this entire conversation seems stupid. All of this is only because of some stupid pictures.

"Ok, I'll wait with my solo."

"Very well then. It'll only be a few months until the heat is over, and we can get back to your solo. This is only for now. Please be careful with your privacy from now on and keep your surroundings in check."

You nod and get up. Jihyo follows you outside. The manager stays for some further discussions. Your steps are fast and firm. Jihyo stops you and hugs you tightly.

"I'm sorry it turned out this way. You know well support you through this, right? We will never leave you. Come on, I'll take you to my house. We'll eat something and watch a movie."

You smile and take Jihyos hand. She squeezes your hand in comfort and leads you out of the company building.

☆★

Almost a week has passed now. Everyone tries to comfort you and support you through this hard time. The hate has been getting worse. Your social media is filled with hate comments from netizens. Other K-pop idols avoid you at award shows or events. It's like you're carrying the bobanic plaque. You haven't posted in a while since everything you do is taken out of context. Reporters and paparazzi wait for you and question your every move. One wrong step and the ice could break.

The company released a statement two days after the headlines. The content was rather simple, only stating that you and Seulgi were nothing more than friends. S.M. entertainment did the same. Both companies tried their best to hide the scandal.

You haven't seen Seulgi ever since. It's not clear if the company is holding her back or if she is keeping a distance to you because of personal reasons. You know Seulgi would never ignore you on purpose, but her group is facing a comeback, and things need to go smoothly.

Fans overseas are already shipping you two. Their enthusiasm for a queer K-pop couple is huge. They don't seem to get the memo that neither you nor Seulgi are exactly fond of this. The attention only makes the situation worse. Korean fans are already on your back. Their comments are hateful and drag you down.

All the while, your friends, family, and Twice tried everything to cheer you up. Though their efforts are not enough. You have spent the time being at the apartments of your members. Mostly jihyo since she is your biggest help right now. They look after you and care for you in every fitting moment.

Jihyo knocks at the door to her guest room. She offered you to sleep in the same bed as her for comfort, but you won't open up.

"Y/n? Are you hungry? I made your favourite. I'll leave it for you in the kitchen."

She listens to the silence on the other side of the door for a while. You've never been this quiet. Other scandals may have affected you, but this is on a completely other level. Nothing cheers you up anymore.

"Jeongyeon is coming over later. Maybe you can come out and talk to her."

Jihyo really hopes that you start being yourself again. She can't face the idea of you being this depressed. Her footsteps get quieter as she walks away from the door. You sniffe and push your face into the pillow.

☆★

"How is she?"

Jeongyeons voice is laced with worry. She holds onto the cup of tea Jihyo made her. Her eyebrows are furrowed, and the muscles in her face are tense. Her stomach is curled up tight, the cramps hurting her in a more metaphorical way.

Almost every Twice member felt the same. It's like everyone is tied to a red string, pulling every time something bad happens. The feeling spreads through the group, causing a crack in their used comfort. No matter where the members are, this feeling would haunt them into every corner of the earth. Neither time nor space could consume this heartbreaking act.

"She barely leaves her room. She eats, though, that's a good thing. I don't know much. The door is locked every time I try to enter. She needs the space."

Jeongyeon nods. The string pulls again. A slight burn appears in her heart. Jihyo glances at Jeongyeon, noticing the burn and the string tugging, too.

"This is a lot. I understand her trouble."

Jeongyeon mutters and sets down the cup in fear of breaking it with her strong grip. She smiles at Jihyo.

"Let me talk to her."

Jeongyeon walks to the guest room, her footsteps calm and calculated, much different to Jihyo's fast and unsteady ones. She spends a good amount of time in front of the door, yet her words fall on deaf ears.

☆★

„More power! I need more energy guys!“

The dance instructor yells through the practice room. Synchronised footsteps strut around the dance floor. Sweat rolls of your face. This is the maybe hundred time you’ve gone through this dance routine. It’s a new dance for an upcoming album. The preparations would take another few months, but the company already planned this dance. This new song would be called ‚Ready to be‘.

„Y/n I need more energy! Don’t forget to stomp on the fourth beat!“

You breathe heavily and stomp as hard as you can. The other members do the same, creating a loud thud. After about another minute the song comes to an end. The dance instructor claps and announces a break.

“Y/n, could you please come to me for a second?“

Her gaze is fixed and does not show any emotion. You nervously walk over to her. Some of the Twice members gaze over at you. Their expressions filled with worry and sympathy.

„You clearly need to work on your dancing Y/n. It’s getting sloppier every practice we have.“

You try to protest and remind her of your current situation, but she shuts your attempt down very quickly.

„I know what happen, and I know your current situation. Look at the other members Y/n. They also have issues, and their issues were even worse than yours. I need you to focus on your current job, which is being an Idol. Don’t sit around and create your sob story.“

You stare at her face. How could she say this to your face. The last few weeks were absolute hell for you. You still can’t post on social media without getting death threads. All of this because some magazines decided that you and Seulgi are a couple.

Your expression drops and you have to take up every ounce of patience inside you to not yell at this woman in front of you. This speech from her just outrages you. She would never understand your struggles.

„If this is affecting you that bad then I suggest you drop your job as an Idol and pursue another career. You clearly are not suit for this, if such a small inconvenience destroys your whole being.“

Her words knock the air out of your stomach. How could someone be so cruel. You thought that the people within the company would understand your struggles, but you failed to realise that no one would support you as much after that incident. You should’ve noticed after the higher ups postponed your solo debut. The only support you’ve got are your members. They would never turn their back on you.

Jihyo walks over, her expression set. She must’ve heard some snippets of the conversation.

„Y/n is doing perfectly fine during our practice. She had a hard time, give her some space.“

Jihyo‘s Hand falls onto the small of your back and comfortably caresses your skin. Her action calms you down a bit and her words disrupt the arrogant speech of your dance instructor. The face of the woman is now pulled together even tighter. Jihyo‘s words seemed to annoy her a lot.

„The break is over. Back to your positions!“

Her words echo through the room and pull everyone back onto the wooden floor. She shoots Jihyo a warning gaze before walking over to the sound board and waiting for you and Jihyo to get back in your position.

Jihyo scoffs and whispers in your ear.

„Don’t take her words seriously. She’s just being mean. I know you can do this. Remember how proud I am.“

She leads you to your position and gives your hip a comforting squeeze before getting into position herself. The song starts and you start dancing.

☆★

The MAMA award show is packed with idols, K-pop groups, and other korean celebrities. Twice has their seating in the back of the event hall. A camera is placed not too far away to capture their every reaction to the performances.

You sit between Sana and Dahyun, a blanket draped over your legs to ensure that no one can peek under your dress. Your performance is only a few songs away. Your manager is already arranging everything backstage.

-

The manager leads you backstage and into a free changing room. Stylists and make-up artists wait for you. You quickly change into your outfit and sit down for make-up refreshments.

While sitting still, you chat with Nayeon.

"Did you see the outfits from Itzy? They looked amazing. I wonder who did their dresses."

Nayeon nods and turns to you.

"Yeah, they looked absolutely stunning. I heard they got a new stylist. We can ask manager unnie later."

You hum. The make-up artist finishes up her touches and releases you from the chair. Tzuyu approaches you. Her small smile comforts you.

"Nervous?" She asks with a small chuckle. She likes to tease you before performances. You nod swiftly and send Tzuyu a nervous smile. She knew how you felt right now. The pressure of the performance tonight squished you like the water pressure did to the titanic. This would be your first performance since the fake dating scandal. You can’t mess up tonight.

Tzuyu puts her arms around you. They’re long enough to wrap around your body completely, her head resting on top of yours. She comforts you the best she can. Sometimes, all you need is a hug from Tzuyu. Some other members notice, yet they don't comment on it. They know better than to put you in a spotlight and bring you into an uncomfortable position.

The comforting hug gets broken as soon as the manager walks through the changing room, declaring that Twice would be the next group to perform. Tzuyu taps your shoulder a few times and then makes her way backstage. You take a moment and capture your thoughts. This performance is very important. You just have to be perfect.

„Y/n? Are you coming?“ Jihyo peeks through the door and watches you with concern. Her eyes flicker over your figure, immediately noticing your stress building up.

„Don’t worry honey, you’ll do great. Everyone things so.“ Her words soothe you. They give you a sense of calmness that you definitely needed. Her hand grazes yours, tightening around your fingers. She pulls you out of the changing room and leads you backstage. Immediately some techniques hook you up to a microphone. Their moves are hurried. Jihyo’s hand in your calms you down.

It’s only a few seconds, a fleeting moment until the lights shine in your face, blinding your eyes. Screams and chants can be heard. The air on stage is cold and bites at your exposed skin. Your eyes frantically move around. The ticking in your earpiece starts. The screams quieten down as the song start playing.

-

The song ends. You need to get off this stage. Your dance was off, and you made mistakes during the performance. Everything starts crashing down on you. The pressure you´ve felt the last few days was already weighting too much, and now this.

As soon as the lights turn low, you run off stage. The Members follow you, though not as hastily as you are. None of them really noticed your mistakes, being too focused on their own performance to observe the other members.

Jihyo is the first to notice that something is not right. She sees the way you breathe, or rather pant. Of course, performances are energy draining, but you never looked this exhausted after any performance. She makes her way over to you and crouches down to your level. HEr eyes fill up with worry, as she notices that it´s not the performance that made you behave like this.

Your eyes are flitting around the place, and your chest heaves almost like you can not breathe. Her hand quickly finds your shoulder, her fingers caressing the skin there.

"What´s wrong, Y/n?" Her voice is filled with concern. The leader always makes sure that every member is alright and well.

You don´t answer her question, being too occupied with this burning feeling in your chest. The tears well up in your eyes and blind your sight. Jihyo makes quick notice of that and updates her comfort with a securing hug.

Other members quickly notice the situation and bunch up around you. Everyone gives off a reassuring presence. Normally, you don´t like it when people crowd around you like this. Now, it helped you calm down.

Not one word was uttered the evening. Every member was focused on their own problems. Jihyo and Mina would check up on you occasionally and keep you away from social media. You were not in a shade to face the comments yet. If you ever were in the shape to face them. All that hard work ruined by just a few missteps.

Many thoughts occupied your head that night. Most of them were sure of one thing. Your life couldn´t go on like this.

☆★

You needed the change, the new perspective, so you decided for a hiatus. A quick break to pull you away from everything. All of the members were supportive of your decision. Mina and Jeongyeon helped you a lot, as they also went through a hiatus once.

You rented a small house in the nature side of South Korea. Your day consisted of working out and working on yourself during therapy. It took a lot of courage to even seek out a therapist and talk about your problems.

Some members visited you and tried to cheer you up. Jihyo was one of the more consistent members. Her care for you is huge, and she just needed to check up on you. Jihyo made sure that you were alright. She brought you some of your favourite snacks or other stuff that made you happy.

During the hiatus, you thought a lot about your career. Of course, you were grateful for your career path, and that everything eventually worked out the way it did. Yet, over the last few months, with the ocurring scandals, you thought about your place in the industry.

Were you really fit to be an Idol? Thinking about it, every Twice member had their own place in the Group. You just normally stand next to them and admire their being. Photoshoots often make you uncomfortable since you don´t know how to act in front of the camera. You don´t know how to act most of the time at all.

Thoughts keep spiralling in your head. This is all just a lot for you.

☆★

A Month has passed. The company called for a meeting. It´s about renewing the Contracts. Twice has been a part of the Idustry for Seven Years now, and it is time for a contract renewal. Most of the members are sure to pursue their careers and keep the group running.

The Managers talk about some buisness stuff, yet you can´t concentrate on their words. Their voices blur in with the other sounds of the office.

The meeting lasts for a few hours. You can´t remember anything of the things that were being said. Most of the members already made their way home. Everyone but Jeongyeon. You knew from her looks that she was struggling with the decision to continue.

You were not the only one struggling with the Idol life. Jeongyeon had to go on a hiatus due to surgery. When she came back, she got bombarded with a lot of backlash because of her body weight. Things were tough for her, too. Maybe a chat with her could clear up your own confused thoughts.

Jihyo made you lay down a promise that you would continue. She put a lot of pressure on you, unbeknowest to her, All she wanted was to cheer you up and give you a reason to stay. the other members made sure to send you messages with supportive words to underline their want for you to stay.

You felt warm at their words but also pressured to the max. Now, the decision between leaving and staying was heavier than ever. You still can´t decide which option is better. Of course you want to spend the rest of your life with these girls. they are the best thing that has ever happened to you. All of the hard work has paid off just to be with them and share moments of laughter and love. Yet, on the other hand, you wished nothing more than to get away from the prying eyes. Leave this place and heal your inner self from all the damage that has been done to you.

-

Jeongyeon sits in one of the recording studios that is located on the third floor. She has her phone in her hand on scrolls through it while paying almost no attention to her surroundings. So the surprise on her face is big when she feels you sitting down next to her. She puts her phone down to pay you her full attention.

At first you don´t know what to say. The words feel stuck in your throat. Jeongyeon notices this state of yours and decides to comfort you by putting a hand on your knee, Her fingers circle over your skin and soothe your thoughts immediately. You soon find your voice and ask her the most important question you have asked her since you first met her.

"You thought about not signing the contract too, right?"

Her eyes shoot up at the words register in her mind. You had noticed her nervous knee bounced during the meeting earlier. Only Nayeons' presence seemingly calmed her down. But now, Nayeon is not here. She has to face the raw truth alone. Her head moves up and down in a confirming nod. You breathe in and think for a while. The silence in the recording studio is deafening.

"I´ve thought about it too. I know Jihyo and the other members want me to keep going and pursue my dreams, but i think my dreams have changed. I can´t dream of this anymore without waking up and feeling the cold sweat on my body and the rush of blood in my veins. I´ts like a curse that folllows me until it swallows me whole."

Jeongyeon stunns at your words. She can resonate with the reason you´ve given her. Her reasons to not continue the path that Twice wants to go are different. She stops caressing your knee and takes a deep breath.

"I know things have been hard for you, I really do. You probably don´t know how many times I stood in front of the door of your house and thought about visiting you. Yet every time i got closer, every fibre in my body turned against it."

Now it's your turn to be surprised. Jeongyeon often joked around, but in quiet and serious moments, she knew how to act. Her words shot through your ears and into your heart.

"You have so much to achieve. And I do, too. Nayeon is there for me, and i know that. Everyone is behind you. Always remember that."

She gets up and leaves the room without saying another word. Jeongyeon really knew how to make you think. Her words burn into the walls of your brain and egrave a new thought. Maybe you shouldn´t leave. Maybe all of this was too precious to give up on.

☆★

Your eyes are focused on the contract in front of you. The contract that would control the next seven years of your life. You did this once, seven years ago. Then, you wanted nothing more than to sign this contract and just jump into the idol life. Now you were not too sure about that.

You´ve watched the expressions of the other members. Some of them are excited, such as Jihyo and Nayeon. They are definitely renewing the contratcs. Other members are not too sure about the decision. Yet, everybody knows the rule you all set up seven years ago.

`Ten or none.`

The sentence Jihyo whispered to you before you got your contract. Now you don´t know what to do. Do you really want to leave everything behind and just quit this big of a dream? Or do you want to pursue some other job and life in the peace and quiet that your new life would hold for you?

The pen in your hand feels so heavy. A single decision that will control your next steps. Your hand reaches for your phone, that's on the table beside you. The number of your manager is one of the first ones in your contracts.

"Hello?"

"Manager unnie? I need to make an appointment with the higher management. It´s about the renewing contract."

-

The faces of your managers are stoic. None of them give you the ressurance that you need during this moment. Your members would have comforted you by now.

"So we got this right. You want to leave this group and distance yourself from the company?"

Silence spreads through the room. Your manager watches your face with a slight frown. She knows how hard this decision is for you. You nod at what one of the higher-ups said.

"Yes. I want to leave this company as well as the group. I want my life to be noticed on something other than the idol life. Please do not inform the other members about this. I want to go this way on my own."

Some of the managers nod, while others still stay. The deal is signed quicker than you thought. The air outside the company feels different. It´s like everything around you changes drastically.

On your way home, you run into Dahyun. Her bright smile meets yours. There will never be a day where you won´t smile back at Dahyun.

"I´ll see you at practice later, right?"

You only nod and hide the fact that you won´t see Dahyun later at practice. You won`t see any of your members at practice later. You ask yourself how they will take the news.

-

The trainer enters the room and sets some of her personal belongings down onto the dancefloor. The Twice members are chatting in small groups. They exchange funny stories from the day or discuss some things that changed in the training plan.

It only takes a few more minutes until the dance trainer claps into her hands and signals for the group to come together in a circle. The members listen quickly and form a circle around their dance teacher.

"So welcome to another seven years of idol life." Her voice booms through the practice room.

Jihyos eyes fly over the members quickly. She notices the missing person almost immediately.

"Where is Y/n? Is she late to practice?"

Jihyo´s question is met with silence. Most of the members didn´t even notice Y/n missing before Jihyo mentioned it.

The dance trainer looks at Jihyo. "She didn´t tell you?"

"Tell us what?" This time it´s Jeongyeon that speaks up. She has a concerened expression on her face.

"Y/n left the group. She did not renew her contract. I got the information earlier today."

Silence spreads through the entire room. Every Twice member is at a loss for words. How could anyone who was so close to them not tell them this information? Or was it on pourpos?

Sana´s eyes tear up. She was always one of the members close to crying. Jihyo follows and lets out a few tears, too. Most of the members now let out quiet and confused sobs. They just lost a friend of over seven Years. Just like that. No goodbye, no nothing.

"She didn´t even tell us." Nayeon mutters as she reaches for Jeongyeon´s hand.

"I saw her earlier, before practice started. She was just fine, then."

The members take another big amount of time to adjust themselves to the news. None of them really got over the fact that they would continue without Y/n for the rest of their lives.

-

After practice, every member individually tries to reach Y/n. Either through the phone or by standing outside of her apartment. Yet, their attemps remain unsuccessful. Y/n is nowhere to be found.

Her traces lead to the Korean countryside, where she bought an older house, working in a bookshop for a small amount of money. For the first time, she can finally breathe free, without the pressure or the stress pushing down onto her shoulders.

Y/n doens´t know if her desicion was fitting. She won´t know if this was the right way to go, if this was the right path to follow. All she knows is that she needed the new air. The fresh way of living, and the unknowing feeling of what will happen tomorrow.

☆★