#DI Pipe Fittings

[metaconsteels]

Looking for durable and high-quality industrial components? Metacon Steels, a trusted Indian manufacturer, specializes in stainless steel, stainless steel castings, pipe fittings, DI pipe fittings, and manganese steel liners. Serving industries like fire safety, oil & gas, automotive, and agriculture equipment, we deliver precision-engineered solutions designed to meet North America’s rigorous standards.With advanced manufacturing, strict quality control, and on-time delivery, Metacon Steels is your go-to partner for reliable and cost-effective components. Contact us today to learn how we can support your business!

[sporadiccandyinternet]

The precision and reliability of our Dismantling Joints! Designed for easy maintenance and seamless performance, Truform's joints ensure your pipeline system runs smoothly.

[brionysea]

here's another example of mike breaking the pattern by being the first one to do it

bonus foreshadowing:

[shivamengitech]

Unveiling the Top Plastic Injection Moulding Manufacturer: A Comprehensive Guide

In the bustling industrial landscape of Ahmedabad, one name stands out as a beacon of excellence in plastic injection moulding: Shivam Engitech. Renowned for its commitment to quality, precision, and innovation,

Shivam Engitech has carved a niche for itself as the leading provider of UPVC pipe fitting moulds, plastic bucket moulding dies, and a range of injection molding equipment. Let’s delve into what makes Shivam Engitech the undisputed champion in the realm of plastic injection moulding.

Legacy of Excellence: Founded with a vision to revolutionize the plastic manufacturing industry, Shivam Engitech boasts a rich legacy of excellence spanning several decades. With a steadfast focus on delivering superior products and unmatched customer service, the company has earned the trust and loyalty of clients across various industries.

State-of-the-Art Infrastructure: At the heart of Shivam Engitech’s success lies its state-of-the-art infrastructure equipped with cutting-edge technology and advanced machinery. From precision CNC machining centers to high-speed injection moulding machines, every aspect of the manufacturing process is meticulously optimized to ensure unparalleled efficiency and quality.

Comprehensive Product Range: Shivam Engitech caters to diverse industry needs with its comprehensive range of products, including UPVC pipe fitting moulds, plastic bucket moulding dies, and a wide array of injection molding equipment. Whether it’s custom molds for specialized applications or standard components for mass production, the company offers solutions tailored to meet every requirement.

Innovative Solutions: In an ever-evolving industry, innovation is key to staying ahead of the curve. Shivam Engitech prides itself on its ability to innovate continuously, leveraging the latest technological advancements to develop groundbreaking solutions that enhance efficiency, precision, and sustainability in plastic manufacturing processes.

Stringent Quality Control: Quality is non-negotiable at Shivam Engitech. The company adheres to rigorous quality control measures at every stage of the manufacturing process, ensuring that each product meets the highest standards of durability, reliability, and performance. From raw material sourcing to final inspection, every aspect is meticulously monitored to uphold the company’s reputation for excellence.

Customer-Centric Approach: At Shivam Engitech, customer satisfaction is paramount. The company takes a proactive approach to understand the unique requirements of each client and strives to exceed their expectations with tailor-made solutions, prompt delivery, and responsive after-sales support. Building long-lasting partnerships based on trust and mutual success is at the core of Shivam Engitech’s ethos.

Global Presence: While rooted in Ahmedabad, Shivam Engitech has a global footprint, serving clients across the globe with its top-notch products and services. Through strategic partnerships and alliances, the company has expanded its reach to international markets, solidifying its position as a trusted name in the global plastic manufacturing industry.

Commitment to Sustainability: Recognizing the importance of environmental sustainability, Shivam Engitech is committed to minimizing its ecological footprint through responsible manufacturing practices, energy-efficient processes, and recyclable materials. By embracing sustainable solutions, the company not only reduces its environmental impact but also helps clients achieve their sustainability goals.

In conclusion,

Shivam Engitech stands tall as the epitome of excellence in the realm of plastic injection moulding. With its unwavering commitment to quality, innovation, and customer satisfaction, the company continues to set new benchmarks for the industry. Whether you’re in need of UPVC pipe fitting moulds, plastic bucket moulding dies, or injection molding equipment, Shivam Engitech is your trusted partner for all your plastic manufacturing needs.

[poguehearted77]

Between The Lines

Summary-> It's the little things that go on behind the scenes between you and Drew that makes your chemistry electric.

Belongs to my: OBX Season 5: Payback for Maybank Series

These can be read in any order!

"Park place." Maddison narrates where Drew lands his dog piece across the monopoly board. "I'll buy it." He says but your hand is in his face, "Not so fast. I'm sure you would love to buy it if I didn't already have a hotel on it. You owe me $1500. Pay up." You show him your open palm, ready for lots and lots of cash.

"He's so cooked. Look at that pathetic stack of cash Drew has. I've got piggy banks with more than that." Jonathan's comments send the four of you erupting into a fit of laughter which eventually dies down to a patient silence. "Sometime today would be great." Madison clears her throat.

"Josh is coming!" Drew points, appealing to your gullibility and you all fell for it. By the time you realized he was bluffing, the board was tossed and the pieces were all out of place. He gets up and runs off as if he already knew you'd be hot on his heels.

Your outburts left JD and Madison alone to pick up the pieces, but not without an interesting conversation. "50 bucks they're together by the time we finish the season." Madison says it so casually as she reaches underneath the couch for the pieces.

"So I'm not crazy? You see it too?" He looks almost relieved. "Trust me, I've got a knack for these things." JD seems skeptical about the timeline of the bet. "I dunno, we finish filming in four months. That might be too soon, I say by the premiere."

The both of them look up to Carlacia who seemed to have been streaming live on her istagram. She enters the room mumbling something about getting winded by you and Drew sprinting past her.

Madison scoffs, "That's like nine months from now. They could get together and break up by then, but you know what-- If that's what you wanna bet, then be my guest." She holds out her hand and JD shakes on it. "You're on."

"We're ready for you guys." One of the assistants notifys them that it was time to head to the screening room where the weekly table reads were held.

Today would be your first look at the script for the second episode, and to say you were shocked was an understatement.

Script Summary:

Eventually the pogues put their trust in Piper and she gives them a fair exchange of some arms that they can handle, while she opts for her weapon of choice, a steel pipe.

"How do you think I got the name and the scar?" She says and it puts an odd sense of comfort among the group, minus a skeptical Rafe, to know you were confident enough in your skills that you didn't need a gun.

They beleived they were in good hands, until they realized they weren't. There was movement coming from the bushes and it made the pogues stand on guard, beckoning them to come out. Soon, the figures finally revealed themsleves. More mercenaries.

"Nicely, done Piper. It seems you can still make yourself useful after all." The red-headed woman speaks up, tossing you a pouch of money that you caught with one hand effortlessly.

"Never doubt my capabilities, it's insulting." You warn, tucking the pouch into the bag strapped across your back. The british woman continues, "Y'know, Mr. Finch could use your talents again. Once we're done tying up loose ends, we're headed back to home base in Lisbon."

Rafe is livid. He knew he couldn't trust you. It couldn't be by pure coincidence that the mercenaries popped up in the middle of this oasis when you were leading. "Lisbon? You told us Finch was here-" Kiara exclaims and Rafe interrupts.

"It was all a lie, from the very beginning. Mr. Alami, the merchant from Agapenta, he was working with you, wasn't he? You knew he'd send us to you, and now you got your sad little payout from these dipshits for bringing us to them." Rafe seethes.

"I'll neither confirm nor deny that claim, love the enthusiasm though." Your attitude remains unbothered throughout the ordeal until Pope demands, "What do you want from us? We don't have the crown! Groff took it." The red head shrugs casually, sharpening her blades as she approaches the group.

"Don't you worry, Groff will get what's coming to him. For now, it's time to repay the debt that is owed. You get blood on your hands, I get blood on mine." Your eyes bulge, "Hang on, you never said you wanted to kill them." You step in and the woman pays you no mind.

"Perhaps because It's none of your concern. You've got your cut, now's a good time as ever to leave. It's about to get messy." She retracts her hand, about to plunge the blade into Pope when she's knocked out cold by a flying piece of steel.

The group looks over to you in shock, fear, and a hint of gratitude, but there's no time to gush about it when there's suddenly a brawl that breaks out between the mercenaries and the pogues.

You all hardly take them out before escaping.

"Piper, what the hell?!" John B yells and his anger is heavily agreed on in the group, you take it on the chin before offering the most sincere apology you could come up with. They're unconvinced. "I deserve that. Everything you heard back there is true. Finch's Fortress is in Lisbon. If you find him, you'll find Groff," You trail off, reaching into your bag, handing Cleo the pouch of money you'd just gotten.

"Take this. It's more than enough to get you a boat big enough to get across the atlantic and even have some leftover for food for a few days. When you arrive on the coast of Cascais, you'll need to head north in-land."

There's silence.

A long silence, nervous glances between the pogues and Rafe's eyes roll. "You guys cannot seriously be considering trusting her. She almost had us killed! Am I the only one who cares about making it back home?"

"Just shut up, Rafe!" John B silences him, and Pope speaks up. "Listen, I don't know about you guys but Piper just saved my life when she didn't have to. We've already lost someone. Going after Groff could be a suicide missison for all we know. But we all know this isn't about our safety, it's about revenge. For JJ." His speech is moving, the expressions agree.

"For JJ." They all agree.

"To Lisbon we go." Cleo chimes, and the group moves on.

End of Script*

You had just finished reading the script and you were blown away. The cast never knows what to expect whenevfer a new script is dropped in front of them.

"Wait a minute... If the pogues are going to Lisbon in the next episode then," Madison trails off and the director ties in, "So are we. Pack your bags, flights are booked for Saturday morning at 5am, please do not miss these flights, we're not opposed to writing you out!" Josh jokes and there's excited and shock all around the table.

You knew that the last season of the show had implied that the pogues would be on their way to Lisbon but it never dawned on you that it would be so soon, even though it made sense.

"You ever been to Portugal?" Drew leans in, a soft whisper in your ear tickled your skin and made the hairs on the back of your neck at attention. "Never, have you?" He thinks about it, "If a layover counts then yes, yes I have." You're not sure if the joke was funny or if it just left the mouth of an incredibly attractive man, nonetheless, it made you giggle.

Madison kicks JD from under the table, jutting her chin towards the two of you giggling in secret and he rolls his eyes. "Patience." He says it calmly, but Madison is impatient, she knows she'll reign triumphant by the end of it all.

-

It’s a Friday night—or, more accurately, the early hours of Saturday morning. The world outside your accommodations complex is still cloaked in sleep, and you should be too. But no. The responsibility of making your flight in two hours has ripped you from the warmth of your bed. Groggy but determined, you scrambled to gather your belongings, knowing you wouldn’t be back.

After a last sweep of the room, you opened the door with a flicker of confidence—only to jump at the sight of a six-foot-two figure standing in your doorway.

“Drew! Oh my god, you scared me.” Your hand flew to your chest in a theatrical gesture, your pulse thrumming in your ears.

A small smile tugged at his lips, his eyes crinkling slightly. “Sorry. Just wanted to make sure you were actually up. Everyone else already left. There’s one driver still waiting downstairs.” His voice was smooth, annoyingly easy to listen to this early in the morning. Too easy.

“You sound oddly refreshed for 3 a.m.,” you quipped, your own voice still husky from sleep as you grabbed your suitcase.

“That’s the beauty of insomnia.” He shrugged, gesturing to his temples with a finger like it was some kind of genius life hack. “You can’t wake up tired if you never really sleep.”

The elevator dinged open, and the two of you stepped inside. The silence that settled was heavy, charged with something you couldn’t quite define. It hung there until you both spoke at once:

“So where are you—” “How did you—”

You broke into quiet laughter, and Drew’s mouth twitched with amusement. “You first,” he said, giving you a slight nod.

“How did you know I hadn’t already left with the others?” you asked, tilting your head curiously. For a moment, something flickered across his face—an emotion too quick to name—before a light blush dusted his cheeks. He masked it with an easy tone.

“I did some askin' around,” he replied, the answer short and almost vague. It was just enough to spark your teasing instincts.

“Ah,” you said with a smirk, “so you missed me?”

Instant regret settled within you. The elevator seemed too small, too still as Drew turned to look at you, his gaze steady and disarming. For a heartbeat, he didn’t respond, and your cheeks grew warm under his stare.

“You could say that,” he finally said, the ghost of a smirk curling the corner of his lips. His attention shifted to the elevator doors as they slid open, leaving you to wonder if you’d imagined the whole thing.

The ride to the airport was longer than expected thanks to roadwork that forced a detour. You should've been annoyed, but at some point, your head found its way to Drew’s shoulder, and your eyes fluttered shut. The fabric of his hoodie was soft against your temple, and his warmth lulled you into a half-dream state.

Drew didn’t dare move. The weight of your head against him was almost too perfect, and he fought the sudden urge to reach for your hand resting on your lap. Instead, he focused on the ticking clock in the back of his mind and the quiet hum of the car.

When you arrived, he sprang into action. “C’mon, we don’t have time to waste,” he murmured, grabbing your suitcase and his carry-on in one hand while ushering you toward the terminal with the other.

You barely had to lift a finger. Drew handled everything—tickets, baggage check, even navigating customs—with practiced efficiency, his jaw set and his movements quick. He wasn’t just organized; he was determined.

“Do you always walk as fast as a drill sergeant?” you teased as you reached the gate, breathing a little easier now.

He shot you a look, his lips twitching. “I'm not a huge fan of being late,” was all he said. But the way his eyes lingered on yours for half a second longer than necessary told you there was more to it than that.

Finally, you made it to your seats in first class. You settled across the aisle from Madelyn, who flashed you a bright smile.

“I was starting to think you two wouldn’t make it,” she teased, leaning toward you with a glint in her eye. There was an underlying subtext to her words but you were too tired to decipher it.

“Drew made sure that didn’t happen,” you replied with a soft laugh. The words were simple, but they carried a warmth you couldn’t quite suppress.

From behind your seat, Drew caught the sound of his name on your lips--and god did he love the way it sounds. He didn’t know what you’d said, but it didn’t matter. The fact that you were talking about him stirred something in his chest.

As the flight began, you glanced back once, meeting his gaze. He held it for a fraction of a moment before looking away, his expression unreadable.

And yet, for the rest of the flight, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Couldn’t stop replaying the memory of the weight of your head on his shoulder—or wondering what it might feel like to hold your hand in his.

Taglist: @percysley, @lilithblackkk, @rafegf-real, @eternallovers65, @drsza, @wearemadeofstardust0, @cadhlabear, @thepopcultureaddict, @citr0us, @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account, @madi44444,

[ri-afan]

*video starts and the mood is somber. There’s a black-haired guy sitting at a desk facing the camera with his hands folded together on the desk and his eyes trained in the lens*

“Hello. If this video has reached you, then that can only mean one thing: I have died.”

*there’s a tense moment of silence before someone snorts offscreen, then everyone’s laughing*

“God, Danny, what the hell??” A tired feminine voice exclaims.

A male voice pipes up offscreen. “Come on, Jazz, that was hilarious!”

“I knew we shouldn’t have let him write the script!” A purple stuffed animal flies quickly into the shot where the first guy is laughing with his head on the desk and it bounces off his head and out of the shot again.

“Aw, but that wouldn’t be fair, Sam, would it? It’s my reveal video.”

“How many puns did you fit in it?” The second voice asks, sounding distinctly gleeful.

“At least twelve, depending on how you count puns that can go both ways,” the guy on screen says as he wiggles an eyebrow to the camera lens, which sets off the second guy’s laughter again.

There’s a couple sighs heard and the first gal’s voice is heard closer as the camera moves. In the background you can hear the guy laughing on the floor about a blooper reel before complaining about steel toed boots. “Okay, we’ll try this again, little brother. Next time don’t—” the video cuts out

[everytimewetouch-dot-mp3]

shang qinghua does not feel good about the fact that his son was thrown into the abyss. he doesn’t feel good about all the disciples who died in the invasion, or about the fact that he basically traded all their lives to spare his own. he doesn’t feel good about the fact that he could’ve killed his king years ago and chose not to, even knowing what it would mean he’d have to do.

and listen, he knows he’s not a good person. who could be, having done what he has? there’s a reason he’s lord of an ding peak, and it’s not just because the system said he had to be. shang qinghua is smart and smooth. and sure, some might call him sleazy or slimy or manipulative, but he prefers to call himself effective. he might play at being pathetic, but even that is a calculated decision. whatever needs doing, he gets it done. he is not a good person, but he is an efficient logistician, a shrewd businessman, a cunning spy.

he has rarely been dragged down by dumb shit like guilt. no, he doesn’t feel good about what he did, but the other option was feeling dead, and that’s really not on the table. it’s just—there are rumors. the widow of qing jing peak, they’ve started calling shen qingqiu. and like, that’s embarrassing as shit, yeah. he’s sure if shen qingqiu knew they were calling him that, he’d throw a fit. but also it’s—they’re not really wrong? wasting away as he is, losing himself kneeling at that sword mound, calling for his disciple like he’s haunted by the ghost of his presence. he is the picture of a widow ruined by grief.

shang qinghua doesn’t feel good about that either, especially after he learned that shen qingqiu is a fellow transmigrator. he knew, in an abstract sort of way, that people would die in the invasion and those people would have loved ones, and those loved ones would grieve them. people die all the time, and they are allegedly grieved by their loved ones. shang qinghua has never grieved a loved one. has he ever even had loved ones who he would truly grieve? did anyone grieve him when he died alone in his apartment like an idiot? did anyone even look for him before his corpse started to smell?

anyway.

he knew he’d be causing a lot of grief, is the point, but it’s different when it’s a hometown bro who’s grieving. even if that hometown bro refuses to acknowledge his grief for what it is. shen qingqiu is grieving. when he loses days at a time at that sword mound; when he flits about the world and avoids his peak for months; when he comes home and haunts the bamboo forests, a ghost of himself. all of it is grief, which shang qinghua is starting to believe he has never felt for anyone but his own sorry self.

shang qinghua is not a good person, has never let himself be dragged down by dumb shit like guilt. maybe what he feels for his hometown bro is pity. maybe that’s why, when he hears that shen qingqiu is nearing cang qiong again after months away, he decides to bring some snacks and wine and his pipe to the bamboo house. the disciples say their shizun hasn’t been eating, and shen qingqiu has been looking rather thin at the peak lord meetings he bothers to attend. so maybe it’s pity that has shang qinghua breaking into the bamboo house and cooking something light and simple, setting it out on the table along with the snacks and the wine, and curling up to read while he waits.

and then, when shen qingqiu steps into his house and calls for luo binghe, it’s pity that moves shang qinghua to greet him fast, so shen qingqiu doesn’t embarrass himself imagining that it was his disciple who cooked for him. it’s pity that has him convincing shen qingqiu to eat, that has him politely looking away when shen qingqiu quietly cries as he tastes the simple stir fry. pity keeps him from responding when shen qingqiu excuses his reaction, saying ‘it tastes just like binghe’s, is all.’ no, binghe’s cooking taste’s like airplane shooting toward the sky’s. where does shen qingqiu think luo binghe got it from, indirect though that inherited skill might be? luo binghe is still airplane’s son.

shang qinghua does not feel guilty for the invasion at the immortal alliance conference, but he does not feel good about it either. he does not feel good about the grief he’s caused, or the way it’s hollowed his hometown bro out into a ghost of himself. so whenever shen qingqiu returns to the sect, shang qinghua does his best to make sure there’s a meal waiting for him, and an afternoon of drinking and smoking and distracting him from the grief he refuses to acknowledge. shang qinghua doesn’t hover. he doesn’t imagine that he and shen qingqiu are now friends—if anything, it seems like shen qingqiu is politely humoring his presence. shang qinghua does not feel any better about himself because of these rare afternoons. he imagines, though, that he would feel worse about himself if they were to stop.

[hearts4golbach]

Can I request carrington x reader where his Lon term partner (reader) didn’t like flowers, so he makes her paper ones himself? Like those paper bouquets you see in like, booktok

Thank God for Tiktok.

pairing:

Carrington Bornstein x Fem!Reader.

a/n:

pre established relationship 👅

not proofread

warnings:

none.

word count:

1.0k

To say Carrington had been crafting for hours was an understatement. the sun had gone down a while back. He was sitting in his moonlit room surrounded by miscellaneous crafting tools and books. tomorrow was your birthday. no, he hadn't been procrastinating. he had ordered you a gift but stumbled upon the idea to make you paper flowers. you preferred not to get real flowers. You were always so upset when they inevitably died.

so, he was glued to his bed (pun intended), making you an immortal bouquet of paper flowers.

previously, he had rushed out of the house to go find some books he could cut up. clearly, he didn't own any, and he wasn't about to steal one of Johnnies' comics. he settled on going out, possibly to goodwill or target, to get a book or two for his project. he wandered to the arts and crafts section, getting a hot glue gun and sticks. he also found a pack of pipe cleaners and some ribbon. everything he had chosen was a perfect match for his vision. and with that, he was all set.

it had been about three and a half hours since then. he was about to finish the very last flower, then he'd have a set of exactly twenty. he mentally praised himself for how well they actually turned out. he even curled out the edges of the paper to imitate real flowers.

setting the last one in the pile, he admired his work. he couldn't help but smile to himself, dreaming of your reaction at dinner tomorrow night.

Carrington grabbed a handful of the dark green pipe cleaners and began attaching them to the paper flowers. thoughts of your bright smile plagued his mind.

he knew you'd be somewhat shocked at the present, considering he wasn't an arts and crafts type of person. when it came to you, he was up for anything.

he envisioned how the bouquet would look in your bedroom, grinning to himself whenever he realized it'd fit your aesthetic perfectly.

he sang to himself softly. the song that was playing reminded him of you. he was slightly relieved when gluing the stems on didn't take as long as the flowers themselves. he held the fairly large bouquet in one hand, a stupid smile plastered on his face. he tied a bow around the stems as perfectly as he could before setting it on his desk carefully.

as soon as he crashed into bed, he fell asleep almost immediately. ignoring the ache in his knuckles and the slight pounding in his head, he drifted off to sleep.

the next morning went by fast. he had a couple of 'business' things to figure out with Jake and Johnnie, which went by a lot quicker than he had figured. by lunchtime, he was anxiously waiting by his phone for you to respond. of course, he knew it'd take forever. you were at lunch with friends, and you were coming over straight after. it was a sort of nervous excitement. he couldn't wait to see your reaction to his gift.

Carrington decided against sitting there for another hour. he went to the bathroom and adjusted his hair. his curly dark brown locks hung in his face, complimenting his bright blue eyes. he tried to do something different with his hair, but there wasn't much. he knew you wouldn't care. You loved playing with his messy hair.

finally, his phone rang. your name and photo popped up on the screen. he scrambled to his phone and answered on the first ring. "Hi, baby." he greeted.

"Hey," he could hear the sudden smile in your voice, which made him grin. "im leaving now. Am I still good to come over?"

"Yeah. yeah, of course." he furrowed his eyebrows together, very expressive as he spoke even though you couldn't see his face.

you hummed and said goodbye before ending the call. you sped over there, so excited you drove over the speed limit without even realizing it.

meanwhile, Carrington prepped your present. he wrapped it in sparkly black, silver, and light blue wrapping paper. he taped the small card on top and grabbed the faux bouquet. he waited downstairs on the couch, holding the items in his lap.

whenever you arrived, you walked quickly up to the door. you knocked a couple of times before entering, which had become your usual routine.

Carrington jumped up and pulled you in for a hug. you felt contentment wash over you as his hands rested on the small of your back and his head in the crook of your neck.

he placed a kiss on your neck. "Happy birthday." he pulled away, beckoning you over to the couch. "c'mere."

you silently followed him over. he handed you the small box, which was neatly wrapped. "What's this?"

"What does it look like?" he laughed, "it's a present."

"I told you I don't need anything," you scolded, a sincere tone in your voice.

"I wanted to get you something. open it!" he urged.

you rolled your eyes, a contradicting smile on your face. in the box, there was a beautiful necklace. it had 3 charms on it, your initial, Carringtons' initials, and a small heart. you pouted your lower lip and looked up at him. "I love it."

"im really glad," he grinned, handing you two more things. "Read the card later." he was embarrassed to see your reaction to what he wrote in person.

you sighed, "Fine." he finally handed you the bouquet.

your jaw fell to the floor as you looked at the beautiful, handmade flowers. "You made this?!"

he nodded, a prideful smile on his face. "I thought you'd really like them since you're a bookworm."

you paid no mind to his joke. you were absolutely starstruck by the flowers. "they're so beautiful, Carrington." You couldn't contain the soft smile that threatened to appear. you placed a soft, slow kiss on his lips. "I love you."

he placed a kiss on your forehead. "i love you." All he could think was, 'thank god for tiktok.''

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

Where You Belong

Fem!Reader When you move into a house with 8 men for six months, one seems to be do everything he can to make you stay.

<pt2 pt3 pt4>

♡🏠︎♂♂♂♂♀♂♂♂♂🏠︎♡🏠︎♂♂♂♂♀♂♂♂♂🏠︎♡

You sat at the dining room table, feeling as if you were under some sort of interrogation. The one you had met first- Minho, if you remembered correctly- was nowhere to be found as you sat across from the seven other men.

So much for heading to bed, you thought to yourself.

Now, instead, you were riddled with a crippling kind of anxiety. With the chaos of earlier gone, the reality of your new arrangement set in.

Concerns, both imagined and realistic, swirled in your mind.

Were they regretting accepting you? Would they kick you out? This was never the intended arrangement, but would they blame you for the miscommunication?

"So... Y/N?" A man with a prominent nose and a thick accent broke the silence.

"Yes?" you responded a bit too quickly, mentally kicking yourself for sounding nervous. Your leg jittered under the table, a movement that didn’t go unnoticed by the undeniably adorable, chubby-cheeked guy sitting to your left.

"Are you anxious?" he asked softly, his warm gaze meeting yours. "We’re not going to do anything. We’re not perverts! Well, I’m not a pervert-"

A reserved-looking guy with tired puppy eyes clamped his hand over the other’s mouth, muttering something in Korean that you couldn’t entirely understand but recognized as scolding.

You laughed nervously, shaking your head. "Not exactly," you mumbled, unsure how much to reveal. Across the table, the soft-looking boy with freckles cocked his head at you, his curiosity evident.

"You don’t have to worry," the man with the thick Australian accent finally spoke, his expression kind but slightly strained. "If you’re uncomfortable with anything, you can tell us."

"I wouldn’t have come if I wasn’t okay with it," you reassured him, though your voice wavered slightly. "It’s just...a big change for you guys and I feel bad for the miscommunication."

"That's understandable, but its no one's fault. Slip ups happen," the freckled boy chimed in, his tone soothing, and his accent mimicking the other guy's. "We’ll do our best to make this easy for you."

The conversation shifted to lighter topics, and you slowly began to relax. They introduced themselves one by one, though the names blurred together in your mind. The freckled boy was Felix and the other Australian was Chris, you remembered that much. The others’ names- Hyunjin, Changbin, Seungmin, Han, Jeongin - felt like puzzle pieces you’d need time to fit together.

"Wait," Jeongin piped up suddenly, his voice playful. "Do I call you noona?"

The table burst into laughter as you blinked, caught off guard. You waved your hands quickly. "I don't know much about honorifics." you clarified, your cheeks warming.

When you pieced together your birthdays Jeongin cackled maniacally.

"I can make her call me Oppa-"

"Thats perverted!"

"What did I say about the misuse of that word-"

Chaos ensued and you could see the brotherly affection between all the guys, making you curious about their stories. Your mind trailed to Minho, and you wondered where exactly he fit in the puzzle.

I hope I didn't upset him...I haven't seen him since the boys came back...

The teasing eventually died down, and the conversation flowed naturally. You couldn’t help but notice how each of them made an effort to include you, easing your initial fears. But as the night wore on, one absence grew more noticeable- Minho still hadn’t returned.

You stirred awake in the middle of the night, the unfamiliar setting still making it difficult to stay asleep.

A faint pink glow spilled into the hallway from the bathroom, catching your attention. Rubbing your eyes, you wandered toward it, your curiosity piqued.

As you reached the door, you noticed it was slightly ajar. The glow wasn’t from the usual light bulb but a neon sign that read, "Slay! Go Piss Girl!" bolted above the toilet.

Inside, Minho stood near the switch, his hand hovering over it as he squinted at the sign in a cringeworthy pain, like he couldn’t decide if it was brilliant or a mistake.

You hesitated in the doorway, unsure if you should interrupt, but the soft creak of the floor gave you away.

Minho turned his head sharply, his eyes narrowing slightly before his expression settled into something unreadable. His lips pressed into a thin line as he stood awkwardly in the pink glow.

"Uh...sorry," you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks as Minho stepped back slightly, giving you space to pass.

"It’s fine," he muttered, his tone clipped but not unkind. He smelled clean, as if he had just showered, though his hair was dry, and he was in the clothes he had been in earlier when you had your first unexpected meeting. He glanced back at the sign, then at you, his mouth twitching like he was debating whether to say something else. Finally, he did.

"Jisung said on FaceTime that you’d like it. He thought it’d be funny."

You blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected explanation. "Oh...well, it is funny," you said, trying to ease the tension. "It’s definitely unique."

Minho’s brows furrowed slightly, and he crossed his arms self-consciously. "I wasn’t sure it was appropriate...for, you know...a lady," he added stiffly, his gaze flicking to the sign and then back to you. "But Jisung insisted. He said it was the way people joked abroad, but I think he was just being ignorant..."

The way he said "a lady" made your lips twitch, though you bit back a smile. "People back home joke like this," you assured him, your tone light. "I think it’s...charming in its own way. My boyfriend never even decorated so even if it was the worst sign ever- the fact that you guys cared enough to decorate for a stranger means a lot."

Minho froze and then nodded curtly, but the stiffness in his posture didn’t ease. The silence stretched uncomfortably between you as the pink light bathed the small space. He shifted his weight and itched his neck, and you got the sense that he was struggling to find the right words, though it seemed like a losing battle.

"I didn't mean to make it awkward bringing up my ex-"

"About earlier," he said suddenly, his voice low but deliberate. His eyes didn’t meet yours, instead focused somewhere past your shoulder. "That...thing. With the, uh...in the kitchen. I didn’t mean...yeah."

You blinked, unsure where this was going. Then it clocked.

"Oh. It’s okay," you said quickly, trying to save him from the awkwardness. "It wasn’t a big deal."

"It looked bad," he continued, ignoring your attempt to let it go. "I didn’t mean for it to- well, you probably thought it was...an odd situation."

The corners of your lips twitched, and you had to fight the urge to laugh at how stiff he sounded. "I didn’t think anything," you said, trying to sound earnest. "Really. Other than I might have made you upset but it doesn't seem like it so everything is fine. Gwenchana 's the word right?" You said in a teaaing manner.

You managed to crack a smile from him, the pink accenting the curve of his lips.

"Yes, gwenchana."

Minho finally glanced fully at you, his expression unreadable but his ears noticeably red in the neon light. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, exhaling sharply through his nose like he was frustrated with himself.

"Good then," he muttered. "We sorted things out. Because it wasn’t intentional. I want you to feel comfortable in this house. So...there's other stuff for you too." He said motioning to the living room. "We...you can sort through it tomorrow..."

You nodded, though the tension still hung in the air. "Thanks for saying that," you said softly, trying to sound genuine. "And thanks for the gifts.

You stood in another awkward silence.

"Anyway, I was just checking the sign," he said, his tone abruptly neutral again. "It works." He nodded again, the movement jerky, before stepping back toward the door.

You couldn’t help but smile faintly at his obvious retreat. "It does," you agreed. "I'll make sure to tell Jisung it’s a hit."

Minho made a noise that might have been agreement before he slipped out of the bathroom, his figure disappearing down the hall.

You stood there a moment longer, shaking your head as you wondered if all your conversations with him would be like- if he'd always seem this uncomfortable; or if it was just the pink neon light playing tricks on both of you.

♡🏠︎♂♂♂♂♀♂♂♂♂🏠︎♡🏠︎♂♂♂♂♀♂♂♂♂🏠︎♡

Taglist: @witchyquills @6demonica9 @lailac13 @furfoxsake22 @lolareadsimagines @sunnysidesins @innies-goth-gf @jolly04 @aprilmaejune77 @chancloud8 @bins-bahng @vegetablesarefuntables @skybluelixie @seekingalex @hanji-coffee @lemonn015 @riri53 @mxltshake

Permanent Taglist: @abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha @iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric @panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee @shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin @whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun @ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael @skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads @jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld @kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9 @minsungsthirdwheel @everlastingspring143 @joyofbebbanburg @leezanetheofficial @tr-mha-fan @bubbly-moon @night-storm7 @missmajdastark @axel-skz @rockstarkkami @thefanficqueen

[demigod-shenanigans]

Jason thinks love needs to be earned. The only love in tiny Jason’s world that ever came without strings was Thalia’s, but he was so young when they got separated that he barely remembers her. His mom abandoned him but surely she had her reasons. Maybe he just wasn’t a good enough son.

So he tries to be a good strong wolf and then a good little soldier, for Lupa’s approval and Camp Jupiter’s approval and because maybe if he earns enough points on the achievement scoreboard his dad will come see him. Maybe his dad will love him. If he hasn’t yet, it’s just because Jason hasn’t tried hard enough.

And his friendship with Reyna feeds into this mindset. It’s not anything Reyna says or does. But Reyna is guarded—understandably so, considering she’s extremely traumatized and lived the first ten years of her life knowing love mostly as a thing that could blow up in your face at any given moment. Of course she’s slow to trust and even slower to love.

It takes time for her to let herself love Jason.

And she doesn’t love him because of some achievement scoreboard, or because he’s a good soldier, but Jason doesn’t know that. Jason just sees that Reyna is his friend now, so apparently he’s gotten a good grade in being a friend through his achievements. His dad may not love him yet, but Reyna loves him, so clearly it’s possible to earn love and the world works exactly how he always assumed it did.

And then he meets Leo and Piper. Leo and Piper who love each other without terms and conditions. Who get in trouble together and make fun of each other and would die for each other in a heartbeat. There were no grand gestures or heroic achievements that caused that love to happen. It just did. They just looked at each other and knew they were meant to be friends.

And they love Jason, too. Even after they realize their memories of him aren’t real, they stick with him. Even when he keeps messing up, which in his world should get friendship points docked and make their love go away, they keep loving him anyway.

Jason sees Leo make his little pipe cleaner helicopter and immediately asks if they’re actually friends, because he may not even remember who he is, but surely he hasn’t done enough to earn the friendship of someone that cool. In MoA he talks to Piper about how he keeps being knocked out and having to be saved and how that makes him a terrible hero. He tells her he doesn’t deserve her when she tries to reassure him.

But Leo and Piper keep loving him anyway. They met the version of Jason that’s a mess before they ever met the Jason that’s capable and heroic and they still love him. Leo loves Jason so much he dies to keep him safe.

Leo loves the Jason that laughs at his stupid jokes and plays video games with him and gets stupid competitive about it. He loves the Jason that’s a nerd about Ancient Rome and the Jason who is kind and the Jason who’s unsure what the future holds and what he wants it to look like. He loves the Jason who’s a bit childish and cannot cook to save his life and has a terrible taste in movies.

When Piper is trying to comfort Jason when he almost dies, she doesn’t talk about his heroics. She talks about Jason when he was happy, with a goofy grin on his face and marshmallows stuck in his hair.

All his life Jason thought there was a certain version of himself he had to be in order to earn love. A mold he had to somehow fit himself into, no matter how uncomfortably it fit. And here Leo and Piper are, loving him even when he’s not exactly the fearless hero leader everyone’s expected him to be all his life. Even when he doesn’t know who he wants to be, or what he wants to do with his life. Even when he tells them that maybe he hates being a leader.

And Jason wonders if that’s what love is supposed to be. If he’s been doing it wrong his entire life. If maybe Reyna could have loved that version of him, too, if he’d let her see it.

But he’s so afraid of the answer to that question—so afraid that the girl he considers his platonic soulmate won’t like who he is now—that he never lets himself find out.

[sporadiccandyinternet]

A Ductile Iron Hydrant Tee is a crucial component used in water distribution and firefighting systems. Made from high-quality ductile iron, known for its superior strength, durability, and resistance to corrosion, this fitting ensures reliability in demanding environments. The Hydrant Tee is designed to connect fire hydrants to the main water supply line, enabling efficient water flow for fire suppression purposes.

[homosexualgirlandbags]

Personally think that instead of Nik being the handyman, it's John.

Don't get me wrong, Nik knows his way with vehicles. He could and has highjack several cars before while on the run from enemies. He fixes his own helicopter and probably does his own modifications to them. (And seeing how the only accident was Gaz falling off, I think we'll be fine)

However, mechanic skills do not translate to being able to fix the pipe that burst in his run down apartment (that he only brought because he almost fucking dies from hypothermia in the garage). This leads to a flood and his sink rendered useless within the second week of him moving in. Nik finally gets the water out of the room, but the pipe still bursts with everything Nik does to it.

And then an angel, a saviour, John, stops by at his apartment with a toolbox. And Nik has to stand there and watch as the beautiful man bends down to inspect the pipes, slowly working his way around the problem, shirtless too. He could see the sweat dripping off of John's chest, his biceps flexing as the man grumbled on and on about the apartment's absolute shit infrastructure.

Shit, he was definitely staring.

Now, Nik is not a deviant, far from it in any case. He could control himself, and he is quite the gentleman of nothing else. His mama, as shit as she might have been to his emotional needs, made damn well sure her son didn't go around disrespecting anyone. And he most definitely is way past the age to lust over something so badly.

It was extremely hard to control himself however, when John was just laying there, shirtless, sweaty. His voice sounded gruff. It'll fit in nicely in my ears, he thinks. He could see the outline of John's bulge in his pants, and the way his thighs were toned underneath the shorts. Nik could only think that he must have done something extremely great in his past life to be blessed with such a beautiful sight for free. He could think of John in his apartment, maybe his bed, maybe the oak desk that John has. And...

Nik doesn't think he'll mind bottoming if it was John for once.

The thought didn't scare him as much as it should have. Watching the captain continue on under the sink, oblivious to Nik's growing attraction to him. John seemed to be getting hotter every second, and Nik could almost feel scarred and calloused hands on him, tracing over his own. He shifts on the couch, trying as best as he could to answer John's questions without sounding like he's fucking horny right now.

"Nyet"

"Da."

"Da, capt"

It was practically hell as he sat there, his tone clipped as he answered his questions. It was a wonder John hadn't looked up once to glance at him, nor question his sudden short responses.

Nik excuses himself back to the bathroom while John is still fixing the pipe. He doesn't notice the upturn on John's lips as he disappears.

[idliketobeatree]

Here is one of the best friends he's made in what seems like forever; she's so open and sweet, beautiful and brilliant. It was inevitable, he thinks, that Niko Sasaki would effortlessly endear herself to Charles like a lost younger sister.

(And that is another story entirely, but not one for Edwin to tell.)

He finds it contradistinctive, Niko Sasaki becoming a new source and the easiest target of Charles' spontaneous, affectionate smiles — different than watching him stumble around Crystal. It's well-nigh surprising just how secure Edwin feels, observing their budding friendship, the phantom echo of it spreading around his chest like a slow warmth from a hearth. He harbours no jealousy or hurt at the frequency with which their more private conversations take place. He does not mind the way Niko wraps her hand around Charles' arm as they walk, not one bit, when his best friend's sole attention is focused on her excited chatter. He can thoroughly relate, after all.

As a matter of fact, Edwin suspects that the only thing he'll have to worry about is stifling an inelegant snort when they're all descending a hill in the middle of a legwork-heavy case and Charles picks Niko up for an impromptu piggyback ride.

"No no no no, put me down!", her voice carries over their heads, but Niko's shrieking protest dies in her throat just as quickly as it came to life, turning into an appreciative whistle at the view. In front of them, Crystal turns on her heel and raises her eyebrows in amusement.

"You're that desperate to be the last at home?"

"Please, we'll be there faster than you lot. Right, Niko?" Charles, ever the multitasker, uses his shrug to adjust the grip on Niko's swaying legs. "Edwin?"

He dares to look in their direction, dreading... precisely double the amount of puppy eyes sent his way. His lips twitch in a helpless smile.

"I must agree. The Charles Express is quite a commendable machine. I would not underestimate it, Crystal."

Charles barks out a laugh. Whatever expression Niko must've had on her face breaks through Crystal's composure; she, too, cracks up, a spring in her step as she turns to walk forward again.

"Can barely feel her, can't I? Lighter than my backpack," Charles says, matter-of-factly.

"It's not a race."

"It could be a race."

"I'm not going to race you down the hill in these platforms, be serious—"

"That doesn't sound like a definite no," Niko pipes in.

"Take them off, then," offers Charles.

Edwin glances up at the orange sun set against the milky autumn sky, to his left; the brightest thing on the horizon. He hears her gasps of delight at Charles' cheeky step through the trunk in their way. Something inside him has been shifting and smoothing out for quite a while. Edwin doesn't know how long it will last or what the destination will be. All he knows is that the slope hits his feet once or twice at most.

One afternoon she invites them to watch Scooby Doo together. It's the first time they've gathered as a trio, and Edwin immediately understands why this hasn't happened before when Niko unlocks the door to her room. The bed they usually end up on is narrow to say the least, why hadn't he noticed that before, but it seems too late to make a flimsy excuse and eloign himself from the picture. They were long overdue.

Charles, who looks about ready to turn into an orb of post-case tension, has no qualms about using the threshold for a shimmering quick wardrobe change. He appears right at home, comfortable, downright domestic, in socks, trousers and a polo shirt, sliding his suspenders down and trailing after Niko who heads for the coat hanger.

What Edwin doesn't expect, apart from the rather tight fit for three people - or rather two ghost boys and one living girl - is Niko giving him a knowing look over Charles' head as he unceremoniously flops down on the bed. His groan, which prompts Niko to pat him sympathetically on said head, makes Edwin snap his open mouth shut, suddenly flustered.

He waits politely, pulling down his knitted vest and admiring the decorative sequins sewn onto a flowery cushion, deliberately not looking at the long line of Charles sprawled on the neatly tucked in duvet. He half-listens to Niko as she chatters on, something about needing to show them the more modern rendition of their Mystery Inc. detectives, grabbing her laptop from the desk and sitting down in the very middle, hip-checking Charles' side. Charles sluggishly lifts himself and rolls onto his back, pushing himself up, shoulders halfway up the headboard, neck supported by a plush pillow, hands folded across his chest and long, long legs crossed at the ankles. He must have done this several times now, Edwin's lungs remind him before tightening into knots. The mattress barely dips when he gingerly sits down and settles, too. His back remains straight, and he is barely brushing her arm when she announces out of the blue, "I forgot my snacks. Give me a moment," climbing off the bed and leaving them in — on Edwin's side — suddenly charged, tense silence.

It feels different, of course it does, and Edwin feels guilty that his carefully tucked away thoughts are knocking on the doors of his consciousness when they're in Niko's room, for God's sake. Edwin tries to subtly move away from the overwhelmingly horizontal line of Charles' body. Right now, sitting cross-legged, Edwin's knees are barely touching him, and he bumps his knee against Charles' arm twice before stilling. He doesn't want to hunch down; never again. He stays put.

The sensation of Charles' bony elbow is like the flash of a sharp smile. The room fills with a low hum, something musical and... campy that Niko must have shown Charles on one of those afternoons. With his eyes closed, Edwin compartmentalises the points of sharp heat.

Much, much later, Charles jogs up to the beach where Niko and Edwin are watching the starfish. "What're you doing?", he asks curiously, just when Edwin finishes talking about their lack of a centralised brain.

He hears the shift in Charles' posture more than his opening to say something mouth, and a second of hesitation before it closes again.

He wonders if Charles has noticed their colours.

Niko sends Charles a lingering smile. Her eyes crinkle with mirth. "Luckily, love requires no logic", she says cryptically. They don't notice, crouching down as they are, but his head tilts synonymously with Niko's and Edwin's.

When he dares to peek at Niko, he finds her eyes locked with Charles', with an expression that Edwin knows she must have learned recently, but is not sure when exactly. It says something like, go on. Be brave.

He swallows and clenches his fingers around the red, red sea glass in his coat pocket.

[vigilante24ish]

🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1180

Chapter 29:

Your mind transported you back to a haunting memory, a memory that you would do anything to truly forget.

You were younger back then, in terms of general age but not physical. You had, after all, stopped showing your true age on your face centuries ago; having settled to project only one age.

Back then, you were innocent... until you weren't.

You could still remember that night, all too well.

A wooden shack in the woods, now laying destroyed and barely having any part of it standing. Beneath its collapsed metal and wooden beams and pipes, bodies of men laid. All of them died before the heavy objects fell on them, and if one of them had survived, they would make sure to finish the job.

In the middle of this destruction was you, sweating and panting heavily. Your body shook from shock and exhaustion, your clothes wet, torn and sticking to your skin; blood visible on new wounds from places items had passed through the clothes.

Your hair stuck to your face, the sweat rolling slowly to the side of your temple. You did not even look up, feeling the fait light of the new moon casting its supernatural glow on you; as if you were all that mattered to it and nothing else.

Suddenly, you sensed a new presence forming; coming from your very own shadow.

By instinct alone, you turned to face them; white magic glowing in response, ready to defend you until the end.

Your bright white eyes locked in dark ones, and you found yourself facing another woman... no... another witch.

She kept her distance from you, eyeing the bodies carefully.

"Not a bad job," she said, her face visible while most of her body was covered by a dark green cloak.

You frowned, trying to understand where she fit into all of this. You had not heard her approaching nor had sensed her until the last moment. You knew she was a witch. You could sense your magic reacting; a first for you.

Back then, had you not been tortured for days on end. Had you not been sleep deprived and starved, you would have thought of those questions better and realized there was a very obvious answer to all of them.

But at the moment, you ran on adrenaline; threatening to collapse once it would all pass.

"Who are you? Where did you come from?" You demanded to know.

"I was close by," she replied, intentionally skipping to tell you her name or anything else about her. "I thought I should join the party, but I guess I was too late." she shrugged her shoulders, unfazed by the murders she had just witnessed.

"There was no party," you argued and finally let your gaze settle on the bodies around you. "They are dead... they should have stopped... but they didn't"

Your voice trailed off, and yet your emotions seemed to have been switched off. All you could feel was still your blood in your mouth and the feeling of power running through your veins.

Any remorse or empathy had disappeared, and you stared at them with darkness lurking behind your white eyes.

You had warned them, begged them to stop. You had repeated so many times you knew nothing of a coven close by; a lie.

You knew of it. You had visited it, and you were not going to give it away to those cruel sadistic men. They caught you during a full moon, and you had tried to resist, to logic with them, but they were persistent.

Either they liked to torture you or knew you were lying... but they didn't stop.

The days passed, and the moon changed phases, along with your control. Your emotions started to fade, the torture and wounds fueling you in a familiar but also fearful way.

Your pleas and words became warnings and threats. They didn't listen, and when you finally had enough, when the sea stopped being gentle; you stopped holding back.

The result lay all around you, and yet somehow, you felt unsettled at the feeling. You had never taken a human life before or any life for that matter.

Do no harm

That was your mojo, your chosen path. You had strained away from the temptiness that came when the moon shifted phases... until now, when you had no choice.

"Timor mortis morte pejor." This mysterious woman said, snapping you from your trailing thoughts. "The fear of death is worse than death"

Her words finally drew your full attention on her. Your head tilted faintly to the side, and your eyebrows frowned, small creases forming on the space between them.

You were clearly confused by her words, feeling slightly out of topic and yet not so much. But her words had also surprised you and the fact that she chose to quote something in Latin.

Honestly, it had been too long since you heard someone use the ancient language outside of a spell that was.

Your expression seemed to amuse the woman, who unbeknown to you, had been watching you for a long time; waiting for the perfect moment to interfere and approach you.

Now that she had it, she could not help but smirk. "How about we get you somewhere better? Get you all cleaned up? Maybe get something to eat?" She asked, her suggestion as tempting as free candy to an unsuspected child.

You hesitated and glanced down at the bodies. "What about them?" You asked.

To your surprise, the woman waved her hand dismissively. "They will be fine. Its not like they can go anywhere. " she chuckled with her own joke, a humour you could not relate at that moment. Then, she extended her hand towards you. "Come with me,"

You took slow steps towards her, partially hesitating. Could you so blindly and openly trust a witch that you just met? Especially in your state?

You thought of declining her offer, just walking the opposite way, but your body needed rest and food. Your magic was not enough to hold you, and sooner or later, you would collapse. You knew that with certainty.

The mysterious woman waited patiently with her hand outstretched, waiting and studying you.

In the end, you dared to place your bloody hand in hers and you gasped as you felt her magic react with yours in a sudden way that caused faint sparks of pain to be caused for both of you.

You held the need to withdraw your hand, and she didn't seem to be affected by the momentarily shot of quick acute pain. Instead, she seemed enthralled by it.

Your magic was reacting to hers, and she knew why. She had suspected such reaction, and now she wished to explore it more.

On the other hand, you did not know why this happened. Back then, she was nothing but a kind stranger who helped, nurtured, and even guided you.

Back then, you didn't know you were trusting the personification of death itself... back then, you did not know what you were getting into.

Chapter 30

[cellgatinbo]

richas was confused bc when pac came back from the big date he just said it was “good” and richas thought it kinda ended there, and pac had to say that he couldn’t exactly say anything else bc fit told him some secret gossip that he promised to keep to himself. bagi piped in that he couldn’t tell him since he’s still a child, and pac agreed, until he turned to her MORTIFIED just “NO NO GOD NOT LIKE THAT-“ while she DIED laughing

[justice4gyeongsu]

━━━ 'CHAPTER TEN' [WHEN DAWN BREAKS]

SYNOPSIS ➢ a rooftops panoramic view should be a beautiful sight, key word, should.

PAIRING ➢ lee suhyeok x male!reader

AU ➢ enemies-to-lovers au!

CONTENT WARNING ➢ this chapter contains; flashbacks, near death experience, choking, violence, alot of angst, mentions of bullying, depression, some fluff, mentions of puking, reoccuring ptsd, exclusion, mentions of gore, blood, cannibalism [let me know if i missed any!]

NEXT | PREVIOUS

from his perch atop the air conditioner unit, joonyeong's voice rings out once more, "the 'o' is too narrow, y/n-ah!" his words hang in the air like a challenge, marking the 13th time he's sent you back to the drawing board to tweak the s.o.s sign. you bite back a sigh, your patience wearing thin. wujin, sensing your frustration, lets out a low chuckle. you shoot him a sidelong glance, shaking your head in exasperation. "if he tells me to fix this one more time," you whisper, a mischievous glint in your eye, "i'm stealing his glasses and hiding them." the comment sets wujin and daesu off into fits of laughter, their heads thrown back in amusement.

as the laughter dies down, the group refocuses on the task at hand, their movements a testament to their determination. you grab a rusty old pipe, hoping to use it as a makeshift straightedge, while wujin rummages through a nearby pile of discarded boxes, searching for something, anything, to use. daesu, meanwhile, is attempting to macgyver a makeshift paintbrush from a bundle of frayed wires and a mangled feather duster.

joonyeong, still perched atop the air conditioner, oversees the operation with a keen eye, offering words of encouragement and criticism in equal measure. "no, no, no! the ���o’ needs to be more circular! and what's with the gap between the ‘s’s? we need to make it better!" as the group works, the rooftop around them begins to resemble a junkyard, with scraps of metal, broken appliances, and shattered glass scattered about. but amidst the chaos, a sense of camaraderie prevails, their shared goal of creating the perfect s.o.s sign binding them together in their quest for survival.

as you crouch beside a pile of rusty scraps, trying to fashion a makeshift stencil, a sudden discomfort strikes your lower abdomen. your bladder, long neglected, protests with a dull ache. you wince, realizing it's been over 24 hours since you last used the restroom. feeling a mix of embarrassment and urgency, you glance around at your companions, hoping to find a sympathetic ear.

you catch wujin's eye, trying to convey your distress without alerting joonyeong, who's still barking instructions from his perch. wujin raises an eyebrow, sensing something amiss, and you subtly nod past the rooftop door, hoping he'll take the hint. to your relief, he nods almost imperceptibly and mouths, "me too." daesu, oblivious to your predicament, continues to tinker with his makeshift paintbrush, but wujin excuses himself, saying, "hey, joonyeong, we need to... uh... scout for more materials. yeah, that's it." joonyeong barely acknowledges the comment, too engrossed in the s.o.s sign's imperfections.

with wujin leading the way, you make a discreet exit, trying to ignore the growing pressure in your bladder as you head towards the other side of the roof that a bunch of obstacles to cover you both, hoping to find a safe place or, at the very least, a secluded spot to relieve yourselves.

wujin, already in his chosen hiding spot, a narrow alleyway between two large ventilation units, calls out in a hushed tone, "hey, you okay over there? find a good spot?" his voice is muffled, but laced with amusement, clearly entertained by the absurdity of your situation. you grit your teeth, wrestling with the recalcitrant zipper, your hand trembling with urgency. "yeah, yeah, just... just give me a minute," you reply, trying to keep your voice down, but frustration seeping into your tone.

"fuck, please not now," you mutter under your breath, tugging at the zipper with increasing desperation. it's as if the universe has conspired against you, denying you even this small measure of relief. just as you're about to give up, the zipper finally yields, sliding down with a soft rasp.

as the warm stream finally begins to flow, you breathe a sigh of deep relief, feeling the tension melt away from your body. the sensation is almost euphoric, and you can't help but moan softly, the sound barely audible over the gentle patter of your urine hitting the rooftop. “fuck,” you whisper, closing your eyes, savoring the moment. the discomfort and urgency of the past hour seem to wash away, replaced by a sense of blissful release.

wujin's muffled laughter carries over from the other side of the ventilation unit, and you can't help but join in, a soft, relieved chuckle escaping your lips. "shut up," you warn, "you're enjoying this way too much." the sound of wujin's amusement continues, a gentle accompaniment to the symphony of sounds on the rooftop – the hum of the air conditioner, the distant rumble of the city, and the sweet, sweet sound of relief.

you hear the unmistakable sound of wujin's belt buckle clicking back into place, signaling he's finished and already moving on. you quicken your pace, hurrying to finish up and tuck yourself back into your pants. but, as fate would have it, your zipper decides to malfunction once again.

"you've gotta be joking" you whisper, frustration creeping into your voice as the zipper gets stuck, refusing to budge. you try to wiggle it, coax it, and even bribe it, but it remains stubbornly stuck. wujin's gaze meets yours, his expression softening slightly as he asks, "are you finished?" his tone is gentle, but you sense a hint of teasing still lurking beneath the surface.

you hesitate, unsure of how to respond. a part of you wants to ask for his help, to let him assist you in freeing yourself from the clutches of the stuck zipper. but another part, a part that remembers the pain of past betrayals, warns you to be cautious. memories long buried begin to resurface, like a floodgate opened in your mind. you recall the days when wujin and you were inseparable, sharing secrets and laughter, until the whispers started. people began to call you gay, and wujin, once your closest friend, started to distance himself. the pain of his rejection still lingers, a scar that never fully healed.

you look away, trying to shake off the memories, but they linger, casting a shadow over the present moment. "i... i think i've got it," you stammer, trying to sound convincing, but your voice betrays your uncertainty. wujin's expression changes, his eyes narrowing slightly as if sensing the sudden tension. "hey, what's wrong?" he asks, his tone softer now, but you're unsure if you're ready to confront the ghosts of your past. your mind races with panic as you imagine wujin thinking you're trying to make a move on him. the thought alone makes your heart sink, and you desperately want to reassure him that's not the case. but words fail you, and you remain silent, your face burning with anxiety.

with a surge of adrenaline, you try to force the zipper down, then up again, wincing as it digs into your skin. your injured hand throbs in protest, but you grit your teeth, determined to avoid any further awkwardness. "just... just give me a minute," you mutter, trying to sound calm, but your voice cracks under the strain.

wujin's expression turns concerned, but he doesn't move closer, seemingly unsure of how to react. "hey, do you need some help?" he asks again, his tone gentle, but you sense a hint of wariness. you shake your head vigorously, trying to convey that you're fine, even though you're far from it. the zipper creaks ominously, threatening to break at any moment, but you keep tugging, your hands shaking with frustration and fear. the silent plea echoes in your mind as you struggle with the zipper, your face burning with embarrassment.

wujin's eyes widen slightly as he takes in the sight of you struggling with the zipper, your face red with effort and embarrassment. for a moment, he looks away, his expression awkward, as if unsure of how to react. but then, his face sets in a determined expression, and he strides towards you with a confident air. "lemme do it, it'll be faster," he says, his voice firm, but with a hint of gentle coaxing.

you feel a surge of relief mixed with anxiety as he approaches, his hands reaching out to take control of the zipper. your mind races with thoughts of what this could mean, but you push them aside, focusing on the practicality of the situation. "th-thanks," you stutter, trying to sound nonchalant, but your voice betrays your nervousness. wujin's fingers brush against yours as he takes hold of the zipper, sending a spark of anxiety through your body. you try to ignore it, telling yourself you dont want to send the wrong idea.

with a few quick, deft movements, wujin frees the zipper from its tangled prison, his hands moving with a precision that makes your heart skip a beat. "there," he says, stepping back, a hint of a smile on his face. "all fixed."

just as you're about to express your gratitude, suhyeok's voice rings out, "yah, y/n-ah! where’d you..?" he turns the corner, his eyes suddenly scanning the scene before him. your heart sinks as suhyeok's gaze lingers on wujin's hands, still resting on your zipper, and your face, still flushed from the struggle. an irritated and hurt glint sparks in suhyeok's eye, and a mournful look spreads across his face. suhyeok's expression in alarm, his eyes darting between you and wujin as if trying to process what he's seeing. the air is thick with tension as he stands there, frozen. you clear your throat, trying to break the silence, and scratch the back of your head, feeling a flush rise to your cheeks. wujin, still trying to defend himself, takes a step back, his hands raised in a placating gesture.

"it's not... i mean... i wasn't..." wujin stammers, his eyes flicking between you and suhyeok before trailing off. he forces a laugh, awkward and unconvincing, and takes another step back, creating distance between you.

suhyeok's glare intensifies, his eyes narrowing at wujin as if daring him to continue. the silence stretches out, uncomfortable and heavy, before suhyeok speaks, "looks like i interrupted something," suhyeok says, his voice dripping with insecurity. finally turns and stalks off, leaving you and wujin alone once more. you look down, embarrassment burning your face, and mutter a quiet, "great." wujin's eyes meet yours, a mix of apology and discomfort in their depths, before he turns and follows suhyeok, leaving you to wonder what just happened.

you take a deep breath and focus on composing yourself. you smooth out your clothes, tucking in any wrinkles or creases, and run a hand through your hair to tidy it up. with a final check to make sure you look presentable, you set off at a jog to catch up to wujin and suhyeok.

as you run, you can't help but replay the awkward encounter in your head. you cringe at the memory of suhyeok's irritation and wujin's flustered reaction. but you push the thoughts aside and focus on catching up to your friends. suhyeok storms off, his annoyance high, while wujin hurries after him, trying to explain. "suhyeok, wait! it's not what you think! he just needed help with his zipper, that's all!" you watch them for a moment before stopping in your tracks. "yah!" you call out, your voice firm but calm. suhyeok freezes, his back still to you, while wujin turns around, knowing you're not addressing him.

you begin walking towards suhyeok, your eyes locked on his towering form. "don't let your imagination run wild before you have the facts," you say, your voice even and measured. as you pass by suhyeok, you turn to face him, still walking backwards. "sorry, wujin-ah. i only see you as a friend," you clarify, but not to him, your gaze flicking to suhyeok for a brief moment before returning to wujin. with that, you turn and continue walking away, leaving the two of them to process your words. suhyeok's anger seems to deflate, replaced by a mixture of confusion and curiosity. wujin looks relieved, but also a bit amusement. he gives a thumbs up with a panted, “thank god.”

you approach the group, realizing you only explained the situation to suhyeok because you didnt want him to think wujin was gay. last thing you needed was more rumors for someone, now giggling to yourself about the earlier misunderstanding. as you reach daesu and onjo, you notice they're in the middle of a heated discussion. "that makes no sense," daesu scoffs, leaning down to mess with the pieces of wood leftover from their earlier project. onjo pouts, her face scrunched up in a frown. "yah, if you wouldn't believe me, why did you even ask?" she shoots back, her voice rising. daesu's expression turns defensive, and he matches onjo's volume. "cause you don't know!" he insists, his words overlapping with hers.

you watch the exchange, amused by their dynamic. they remind you of siblings, always bickering and teasing each other. you can't help but smile at their familiarity. "what's going on?" you ask, inserting yourself into their conversation. daesu and onjo pause, turning to face you. they both look expectant, as if waiting for you to referee their argument.

"daesu doesn't think," onjo says, her tone still slightly petulant. "but she's not making any sense!" daesu protests, throwing up his hands. you chuckle, shaking your head. "what is it?" you ask, trying to mediate their disagreement. onjo begins saying she tried to explain to daesu that s.o.s means nothing but daesu refuses to believe her. even though he had asked for her opinion in the first place. you begin to think, scratching your head before speaking, “i thought it meant ‘save our souls’.” your words laced with confusion.

onjo's eyes widen in frustration. "no, no! that's not it at all! it's just a nonsense phrase, a myth. it doesn't mean anything!" daesu snorts. "you're just not smart enough to understand it, onjo."

onjo takes a deep breath, trying to compose herself. "i looked it up, okay? and it's just a myth. it doesn't have any real meaning." daesu scoffs. "you and your 'research'... i don't believe it." you chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. cheongsan then enters the conversation, “shes 100% right. it doesn't mean anything, why don't you believe her?” he asks daesu. you raise your brows as cheongsan quickly stands up for her, to which onjo nods proudly.

daesu's gaze shifts between the two, his curiosity getting the better of him. he rises from his place and ambles over to namra, a hint of a smile on his face. "hey, prez," he says, seeking her expertise. onjo's eyes flash with annoyance as she springs to her feet. "that jerk," she mutters under her breath, her reaction so endearing that you can't help but smile. you've never noticed how much she embodies the role of a little sister, and it's almost charming.

you make your way over to jimin and hroryeong, who stand together, a united front. "you guys okay?" you ask softly, concern etched on your face. jimin looks up at you, a hint of exasperation in her eyes. "really?" she asks, her tone laced with annoyance, as she continues to soothe hroryeong. you hold up your uninjured hand in a calming gesture before turning to walk away, not wanting to spark any more unnecessary arguments. you'd rather not be the catalyst for further conflict.

as you suddenly watch, onjo's tiny frame darts out, her foot connecting with cheongsan's leg in a swift kick. he yelps in surprise, his momentum halted as he falls to the ground. the group gasps, shocked by her sudden move. onjo gestures to the others, her expression nonchalant. "come on, let's start a fire. it's gonna be dark soon." you stroll over to cheongsan, a grin still plastered on your face. he looks up at you, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "for a small girl, she's pretty strong, huh?" you chuckle.

cheongsan's hurt gaze lingers on your face, his expression puzzled. he's never seen you like this before - relaxed, carefree, and almost... happy. his memories of you are etched with a gloomy, solemn demeanor, a stark contrast to the person standing before him now. even in the face of adversity, you seem to have found a glimmer of joy.

"what?" cheongsan asks, confusion etched on his face as you continue to stare at the group with an enigmatic smile. "nothing, it's just funny," you reply, your eyes still fixed on the others as you giggle to yourself once more. cheongsan smirks, his expression laced with disbelief. "i think you're delirious," he teases, his laughter mingling with yours as you both walk away from the group. the absurdity of onjo's kick and the group's dynamics has somehow lifted the gloom, and for a moment, you're able to find humor in the midst of adversity.

the group toils away for nearly 20 minutes, gathering twigs, leaves, and other flammable materials, attempting to create a spark through sheer friction. just as frustration begins to set in, namra casually reaches into her pocket and produces a sleek lighter. "wait, you had that the whole time?" daesu asks, incredulous, as namra nonchalantly lights the fire. the group stares at her, a mix of surprise and amusement on their faces. onjo's eyes widen, "namra, you smoke?" namra shrugs, a hint of a smile playing on her lips, "occasionally." the group's perception of their perfect class president begins to shift. she's not as squeaky clean as they thought. a hint of rebellion lurks beneath her polished exterior. jimin raises an eyebrow, "i didn't know you were a smoker, namra.

namra's smile grows, "there's a lot you don't know about me, jimin." the fire crackles to life, casting a warm glow over the group as they settle in for the night.

the group sits in a circle around the fire, the warm flames casting a golden glow on their faces. you find yourself nestled between cheongsan and jimin, the three of you forming a cozy line. the silence is unique, punctuated only by the occasional gust of wind that rustles through the trees. the group's eyes gaze into the fire, mesmerized by the dancing flames. as the sun dips below the horizon, the sky transforms into a kaleidoscope of pinks, oranges, and purples. the colors deepen, and the darkness gradually engulfs the group, like a soft blanket.

the fire crackles and spits, casting flickering shadows on the surrounding trees. the group's faces are illuminated only by the warm glow of the flames, making them appear like silhouettes. cheongsan shifts beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours. jimin's eyes remain fixed on the fire, her expression contemplative. the quiet is comfortable, a sense of camaraderie settling over the group. they're united in their struggle, bound together by the shared experience of survival. as the darkness deepens, the stars begin to twinkle above, like diamonds scattered across the velvet expanse. the group's breathing slows, their eyes growing heavy, lulled by the warmth and comfort of the fire.

your eyelids grow heavier, the warmth of the fire and the exhaustion of the day finally catching up to you. the flickering flames seem to blur, and the quiet murmurs of the group fade into the background. you try to fight it, but your head nods forward, your chin dipping towards your chest. cheongsan's shoulder provides a comfortable resting place, and you lean into him, feeling the warmth of his body.

jimin's voice is a distant whisper, "he never really told us where he was, when he left the group. hes probably exhausted." your eyes droop further, the darkness closing in around you. the fire's warmth and the group's presence lull you into a sense of security, and you let yourself drift off, surrounded by the quiet companionship of your fellow survivors. as you succumb to sleep, the sound of the wind rustling through the trees and the occasional crackle of the fire are the last things you hear, a soothing lullaby that carries you away into the darkness.

cheongsan's face contorts in a mixture of surprise and fluster as you lean into him, his eyes darting to onjo, who's watching the scene with amusement. onjo's giggles escape her lips, and she covers her mouth with her hand, trying to stifle her laughter. just as cheongsan's face is about to turn bright red, the sound of singing wafts through the air, captivating everyone's attention. daesu's melodious voice rises and falls in a hauntingly beautiful tune, his words indistinguishable but the emotion palpable.

your eyes flutter open, drawn to daesu's figure, silhouetted against the darkness. the fire's warm glow casts a golden light on his face, his eyes closed, lost in the music. the group's mesmerized, their faces tilted upwards, drinking in the beauty of daesu's voice. even onjo's giggles have ceased, replaced by a soft, wonder-filled expression. cheongsan's fluster forgotten, he too is entranced, his gaze fixed on daesu. you feel his shoulder relax beneath your head.

you gently lift your head off cheongsan's shoulder, whispering a soft apology, "sorry about that.” cheongsan smiles, his eyes still closed, and whispers back, "it's okay, sleep if you need to." but sleep is the last thing on your mind as daesu's song weaves a spell around the group. somehow, without words, everyone knows the melody, and their voices begin to blend in harmony. onjo's sweet soprano soars above the others, while jimin's rich alto adds depth to the sound. namra's gentle hum provides a soothing background, and even cheongsan's rougher tone blends in perfectly. the music swells, a beautiful, wordless chant that fills the night air. daesu's voice rises above the others, guiding the melody, as the group's voices merge into a stunning harmony. you join in, your voice blending with the others, creating a magical sound that seems to lift your spirits and connect you all in a way that transcends words.

the music builds, a crescendo of hope and resilience, a testament to the power of unity and the human spirit. as the last notes fade away, the group falls silent, the only sound the gentle crackling of the fire.

the song's final notes linger in the air, leaving behind a comfortable silence. the group sits in stillness, basking in the warmth of the moment. then, hroryeong breaks the silence, her voice gentle, "that was such a nice song." daesu turns to her, a hint of mischief in his eyes, "didn't you say it sucked?" you stifle a laugh, anticipating hroryeong's response. hroryeong's face remains calm, a small smile playing on her lips, "well, now that i actually listened to it, i think it's kind of nice."

the group erupts into laughter, daesu's teasing grin met with hroryeong's playful shrug. the tension is broken, and the atmosphere remains light, filled with the warmth of friendship and shared moments. onjo chuckles, "hroryeong, you're such a critic." hroryeong's smile widens, "hey, someone's got to keep daesu's ego in check." daesu mock-offended, "my ego's just fine, thanks for asking." the banter continues, a gentle, easygoing exchange that fills the night with laughter and camaraderie.

you lean back, using your good arm to support yourself, and gaze up at the sky. the smoke from the fire wafts upwards, disappearing into the vast expanse of stars. the celestial canvas stretches above, a twinkling tapestry of light and shadow.

the beauty of the night sky hits you like a gentle breeze, soothing your soul. it's surreal to think that such tranquility can exist after the chaos and tragedy that unfolded just days prior. as you lie there, you realize that you've never taken the time to truly appreciate nature's splendor. life got in the way, and you were always too caught up in the hustle and bustle to stop and smell the roses. but now, in this moment, you make a silent promise to yourself to change that. you want to experience more of this beauty, to find solace in the simple things, and to never take the world's wonders for granted again. the stars seem to twinkle in agreement, their gentle sparkle a reminder of the magic that surrounds you. you feel a sense of peace settle over you, a sense of connection to something greater than yourself. as you gaze up at the stars, you know that this is just the beginning of a new chapter in your life – one where you'll cherish the beauty in the world and find joy in the everyday moments.

onjo's question hangs in the air, drawing everyone's attention to namra. "how long have you been smoking for?" she asks, curiosity etched on her face. the group's gaze shifts to namra, awaiting her response. for a moment, she just stares, her eyes fixed on some distant point. then, her voice barely above a whisper, she reveals, "since eighth grade." the group sits in silence, their faces filled with a mix of surprise and understanding. namra's eyes drop, her gaze falling to the ground.

"i had no friends and a lot of stress back then," she continues, her voice laced with vulnerability. "it was my way of coping, i guess." the group's expression softens, their faces filled with empathy. they see namra in a new light, beyond the perfect class president facade. they see a person who's struggled, who's found solace in a habit she can't shake.

onjo's question hangs in the air, piercing the silence. "did you ever need a friend, though?" namra's gaze drifts off, her eyes clouding over as she searches for an answer. the seconds tick by, and just when you think she won't respond, she whispers, "i'm not sure. i can't really tell."

her words strike a chord within you. you can't help but think back to those countless days when you and namra sat beside each other in class, both of you lost in your own worlds. you both needed a friend, yet never reached out to each other. the irony isn't lost on you. you were so close, yet so far apart. you wonder what would have happened if you had spoken up, if you had taken the first step towards friendship. the fire crackles, breaking the silence. namra's eyes refocus, her gaze meeting yours for a brief moment. you sense a flicker of understanding, a shared acknowledgment of what could have been.

the moment passes, but the memory lingers, a bittersweet reminder of the connections we miss, and the friendships we never forge. onjo's words cut through the silence, her voice laced with a mix of curiosity and accusation. "you always put up a wall. you'd wear earphones all day and you never said anything." you feel a twinge of discomfort, your gaze drifting away from namra's intense stare. onjo's words strike a chord, and you can't help but think about your own behavior back then.

"wasn't it because you hated us?" onjo finishes, her question hanging in the air like a challenge. namra's expression remains enigmatic, her eyes fixed on some point beyond the fire. the silence stretches out, heavy with unspoken emotions. you can't help but wonder if namra will open up, if she'll reveal the truth behind her aloofness. the anticipation high, and you find yourself holding your breath, waiting for her response.

the fire crackles, the only sound in the tense silence. namra's gaze finally shifts, her eyes locking onto onjo's, and you sense a hint of vulnerability lurking beneath the surface.

onjo's straightforward question hangs in the air, and everyone's eyes avert the two girls, sensing the intensity of the moment. but namra doesn't waver, her gaze steady as she turns to face onjo. "i never hated you guys," she says, her voice clear and firm. "i just..." she pauses, her eyes drifting to yours, and you sense a flicker of vulnerability. you offer a small, reassuring smile, encouraging her to continue. "never had any friends," namra finishes, her voice barely above a whisper.

the group's collective gaze returns, their faces filled with a mix of surprise and understanding. the silence that follows is no longer tense, but rather, compassionate. you feel a sense of connection to namra, knowing that you both shared a similar experience. you realize that sometimes, people put up walls not because they hate others, but because they're afraid of being hurt or rejected. namra's gaze lingers on yours, and you sense a hint of gratitude, a silent thank you for understanding. the moment hangs in the air, a fragile bond forming between you and namra, one that could potentially blossom into something more.

hroryeong's words spill out, a mix of confession and vulnerability. "well, i never really liked you," she says, her eyes fixed on namra. "i thought you didn't talk to us because we were beneath you." namra's expression remains neutral, but her eyes betray a hint of hurt. she waits for hroryeong to continue, her silence inviting more truth.

joonyeong's sudden admission shocks the group, his words laced with a raw honesty. "i kind of hated you," he says, his gaze avoiding namra's. "there were times that i wished you would just disappear."

the group's attention snaps to joonyeong, surprise etched on their faces. you can't help but wonder why he would harbor such feelings towards namra, especially since they never spoke. ulterior motives surface as jimin asks, "aren't you close? you're the top two students?" her confusion is palpable. joonyeong's response is swift, his words laced with a hint of bitterness. "that's why i hated her. no matter how hard i worked, i was always second."

you can't help but feel a pang of regret. your grades were never something to brag about, and you wish you could say you worked hard but struggled. but the truth is, you didn't have the energy to try in school. it's a regret that still lingers. namra's expression remains calm, but her eyes flicker with a hint of understanding. she knows the weight of expectations, the pressure to perform. the group's silence is heavy with unspoken thoughts, their faces reflecting a mix of surprise and contemplation. the dynamics between joonyeong and namra have shifted, the air thick with a newfound understanding. onjo breaks the silence, her voice gentle. "i never knew, joonyeong. i'm sorry." joonyeong's gaze drops, his shoulders sagging slightly. "it's not your fault, onjo. it's just...namra was always the standard i couldn't reach."

joonyeong's words are laced with a newfound acceptance. "but it's okay now. i think i was able to come in second, because of namra." he nods confidently, a small smile on his face. you can't help but smile at his last thought, the tension in the group dissipating. daesu chimes in, his voice filled with a mock seriousness. "hey, seconds good too." everyone nods in agreement, a chorus of assent. daesu turns to suhyeok, his expression solemn. "i can't even be 20th, right?" suhyeok nods in solidarity, and they share a fist bump, their faces comically sad.

hroryeong tries to uplift joonyeong, but her words come out awkwardly, "hey, don't compare yourself to joonyeong." joonyeong's face falls, and he pouts, "what? i was just saying. why do you always get on my case whenever i say something?"

hroryeong rolls her eyes, exasperated, but daesu seizes the moment, a mischievous glint in his eye. "wait a second, do you like me?" he asks, his tone playful. hroryeong's response is immediate, a slap on daesu's arm. "shut up, you moron!" the group chuckles, amused by the exchange. undeterred, daesu continues, "i'm going to put it out there, so you don't get hurt. i like somebody else. so don't like me."

hroryeong punches his arm again, her face flushed. "i don't like you! i also have a crush, and it's not you!" the group's laughter grows louder, their eyes fixed on the banter between daesu and hroryeong. jimin's curiosity gets the better of her, "hm? you never told me you had a crush?" she asks hroryeong, her voice tinged with surprise. hroryeong's fingers fidget, her eyes cast downward before she sheepishly looks up, trying to meet yours. "it's newly developed," she admits, her voice barely above a whisper.

you realize, with a start, that you were the only one oblivious to hroryeong's crush, too busy adding wood to the fire to notice the subtle cues. suhyeok stifles a laugh, his eyes sparkling with amusement at the realization. joonyeong's curiosity is piqued, "yah, daesu, who do you like, then?" he asks, his voice filled with excitement. daesu's grin is mischievous, wujin suddenly spoke up, his voice laced with amusement. "he's crazy," he said, pointing to daesu. "he has a crush on my sister."

jimin's eyes widened in surprise. "hari-unnie from the archery team?" she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief. daesu's face turned bright red as he confessed, "i get a little crazy when i'm in love. she's like my own personal cupid." you couldn't help but cringe at his words, but you quickly covered it up with a laugh. however, daesu caught the laugh and misinterpreted it. "hey, don't make fun of my love," he scolded, his tone playful but slightly defensive. you held up your hands in a calming gesture, still smiling. "love whoever you want, i don't care," you said, returning to feeding the fire.

daesu's eyes lock onto joonyeongs, a curious glint sparkling in their depths. he then looks towards wujin, who shakes his head in a silent plea to stop. but joonyeong, seemingly oblivious to the tension, nods his head encouragingly towards you. daesu's eyes dart back and forth, his gaze finally settling on you. he takes a deep breath before speaking in a robotic tone, "speaking of love... how's your love life, y/n?"

wujin lets out a sigh, his eyes rolling heavenward in exasperation. you, on the other hand, feel a nervous gulp rise up in your throat as everyone's attention focuses on you. the group's collective gaze is like a weight on your skin, making your heart race with anticipation. you can't help but wonder what daesu's motives are, and why he's suddenly so interested in your love life. the silence stretches out, heavy with expectation, as you struggle to form a response.

"um.." you start, looking around the fire at the expectant faces. "i would say nonexistent." you try to add a small laugh to ease the blow, but it still creates an odd atmosphere. wujin curses under his breath at daesu for putting everyone in this situation. daesu, however, seems oblivious to the tension he's caused. just as it feels like the silence is going to stretch on forever, jimin breaks the tension. "y/n-ah.." she says, her voice soft and gentle. you turn towards her, and she looks at you with a curious expression, blinking for a second as if gathering her courage. you know what she wants to ask, so you wait for it calmly. "are you really... gay?" she whispers the word, afraid someone might hear.

the question hangs in the air, and you can feel the weight of everyone's attention on you. you take a deep breath, preparing to respond. wujin speaks up, his voice firm, "yah, that's none of our business-" but you cut him off, not wanting him to get worked up on your behalf. "it's okay, i got it," you say with a small smile, appreciative of wujin's defense. daesu, sensing wujin's tension, rubs his back in a calming gesture. you turn back to jimin, a sheepish nod accompanying your words, "i am."

jimin's response is simple, a soft "oh.." with a nod of her own. the lack of judgment or surprise in her voice puts you at ease. the group falls silent once more, but this time it's not awkward. it's as if they're all processing this new information, trying to understand. daesu breaks the silence, his voice gentle, "we're cool with it, y/n. you're still the same person." the others nod in agreement, their faces filled with acceptance and support. you feel a sense of relief wash over you, grateful for their understanding.

you return to feeding the fire, trying to focus on the crackling flames. jimin looks back at you, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. she wants to ask another question, one that everyone else seems eager to know the answer to. however, her gaze aligns with onjo, who subtly shakes her head, warning jimin not to ask. jimin hesitates, but her curiosity gets the better of her. "who was it?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

your head snaps towards her, "what?" you ask, trying to play dumb. jimin sighs, knowing she's pushing her luck. "who was the person you confessed to?" she asks slowly, her eyes locked onto yours. you look away, the fire that once warmed you now feels suffocating. the heat rises to your face as you grow quiet, unsure of how to respond. "i mean, you can tell us, y/n-ah," daesu says, trying to reassure you. "it's not like they can hear us."

daesu chuckles, attempting to lighten the mood. "yeah, we're okay that you're gay, so don't feel pressured," joonyeong adds, his voice gentle as he fixes his glasses. your gaze meets joonyeong's, and your heart skips a beat. his words touch a deep part of your soul, and you feel a lump form in your throat. you thank him with teary eyes, never having heard such acceptance before. you refuse to let your tears fall, but it's clear that joonyeong's words have struck a chord.

hroryeong's facepalms, finally realizing the implications of the conversation. daesu tries to comfort her, but his attention is quickly diverted as the group waits with bated breath for your answer. you hesitate, fumbling with your vest-sling before speaking. the silence is almost deafening, until three people speak at the same time.

"i-it was..." you start, but are cut off by onjo’s attempt to intervene, "guys maybe we should..." but the loudest voice is suhyeok's, "me." your eyes widen in shock, knowing who the voice belongs to but refusing to make eye contact. everyone turns towards suhyeok, who looks up with a mixture of shame and guilt. "what?" wujin asks in surprise, his voice echoing the group's confusion.

the atmosphere is electric, with all eyes on suhyeok. it's clear that he's the one you confessed to, and the group is struggling to process this new information. daesu's eyes dart between you and suhyeok, his expression a mix of shock and curiosity. hroryeong looks like she's been punched in the gut, her face pale. joonyeong's eyes are fixed on suhyeok, his expression unreadable. the silence stretches out, heavy with tension, as the group waits for someone to break the silence.

jimin's eyes widen in shock as she points between you and suhyeok, "you? you and you?" she asks, her voice trembling with disbelief. onjo looks like she's been punched in the gut, her eyes fixed on you with a mix of shock and confusion. she had no idea you had feelings for suhyeok, let alone be the one you confessed to. suhyeok nods, his eyes cast downward, "i... i was stupid back then." he mutters, excusing himself from the conversation.

joonyeong's hands are outstretched, as if ready to physically receive the answer, "why did you do it?" he asks, his voice laced with frustration. "what? do what?" suhyeok asks, confusion etched on his face.

jimin's voice rises, her tone threatening, "you know what he's asking you, why did you set him up?" cheongsan tries to intervene, telling her to calm down, but she ignores him. suhyeok's face reddens with anger, "i didn't set him up!" he shouts, his voice echoing through the forest. "they just showed up that day, i didn't know they found the note. i just wanted..." he trails off, his frustration noticeable. you try to intervene, your voice barely above a whisper, "i'd rather not talk about it anymore, guys..." but it's drowned out by the tension between suhyeok and jimin. the group's dynamics have shifted, alliances are being tested, and secrets are spilling out.

jimin's arms are crossed, her expression stern, "if i were y/n, i would never speak to you again." she says, offended on your behalf once more. suhyeok's eyes plead for your forgiveness, but you refuse to meet his gaze. "i tried to go see him," he says, his voice softer now. "but he would dodge me every chance he got. it was all a big misunderstanding. i've been trying to make it up to him these past few days-"

hroryeong cuts him off, her voice firm, "yah! we don't forgive you that easily!" she says, her arms crossed, mirroring jimin's stance. wujin and daesu exchange confused glances, "y/n isn't a girl..." wujin says, trying to correct hroryeong. hroryeong huffs, "yeah, but he likes... boys, so he probably thinks the same way. it's frustrating with you guys," she says, her expression exasperated. daesu and wujin look at each other, offended by hroryeong's assumption.

joonyeong's sudden apology catches you off guard, "i'm sorry for never speaking to you." he says, his eyes sincere. you shake your head, trying to brush it off, "it's in the past." but joonyeong insists, "no, i think... i think we all owe you an apology." he gestures to the group, and one by one, they offer their soft apologies. you nod awkwardly, unsure of how to respond, as you continue to feed the fire. wujin's apology is the most heartfelt, "i should be the most sorry." he says, as he plays with his shoelace. "i'm sorry, y/n-ah, i left you when you needed me the most." his voice cracks as he sniffles, trying to hold back his emotions.

"i didn't realize until now how much of a bad friend i was." he admits, his eyes red-rimmed. "but, i can promise you now i will forever be your good friend, if you'll have me." the sincerity in wujin's words makes your heart ache, and you look up to the sky, trying to hold back your tears. the weight of their apologies and the pain of the past few days is almost too much to bear.

why is it that today's words are cutting deeper than any other? you wonder, as you struggle to keep your emotions in check. you nod, a small smile on your face, "i forgive you." the three words are simple, yet they hold so much weight. wujin's face lights up with a warm smile, and he nods back, relief washing over him. but amidst this heartwarming moment, suhyeok's eyes gleam with a mix of emotions - regret, longing, and determination. he knows that he's been longing to hear those exact words, but you've given them to wujin, your childhood friend.

suhyeok's gaze falls, and he takes a deep breath, his jaw clenched. he knows now that he has to make up for what he did, to earn back your trust and forgiveness. the journey ahead won't be easy, but he's determined to try. the atmosphere around the campfire is filled with a sense of closure, new beginnings, and unspoken promises. the night air is filled with the crackling of the fire, and the weight of words left unspoken.

onjo gently intervenes, "how about someone else goes?" she suggests, expertly steering the conversation in a new direction. you're grateful for the change in subject. "i'll go," jimin says, her voice carrying through the night air. you turn to her, intrigued, as she begins to share her story. "my mom and dad prepped everything for my transfer. they said to just go to seoul." she explains, her voice laced with a mix of emotions.

"but i really didn't wanna go there. i wouldn't have any friends, and i was afraid of the seoul kids," she admits, her vulnerability palpable. you nod, actively listening, as she continues. "onjo gave me a great idea, to miss school for five days so the principal couldn't write me a recommendation letter. it's all thanks to onjo that i didn't transfer." she says, her eyes flicking to onjo, who smiles warmly.

"but... i should've just went to seoul," jimin adds, her voice tinged with regret. "then none of this would've happened." onjo's smile falters, and she looks down, her eyes welling up with tears. you speak up, trying to offer comfort, "you can't focus on the past, i think you were meant to be here, with us." jimin's eyes water at your words, and she slowly nods, looking away, trying to compose herself. the group falls silent, each lost in their own thoughts, as the night air is filled with the sound of crackling flames and the weight of shared secrets.

wujin's voice breaks the silence, "people have always said... my sister was an archery prodigy ever since she was little." a hint of sadness creeps into his tone. you look up, memories flooding your mind. you remember playing in wujin's room, his older sister watching over you both with a warm smile.

"so our parents only cared about trying to get my sister onto the national team," wujin continues, his eyes drifting away, lost in thought. his voice is laced with a mix of sadness and longing. you sense a deep-seated pain in wujin's words, a feeling of being overlooked and underappreciated. his parents' focus on his sister's archery career seems to have come at the cost of his own emotional well-being. the group listens intently, offering silent support as wujin shares his story. the night air is filled with the weight of unspoken emotions, and the crackling of the fire seems to echo the turmoil in wujin's heart.

wujin shakes his head, a hint of bitterness in his voice, "they've never paid attention to me at all." he admits, his eyes cast downward. daesu, ever the charmer, tries to lighten the mood, placing a hand on wujin's back, "i'll give you all my attention, brother-in-law." his words are met with a chuckle from you. wujin playfully pushes daesu backwards, his smile returning, "don't be sad. you have me," daesu says, his words cut off by wujin's teasing.

wujin's laughter fills the air, "thank god i have daesu now," he says, his eyes shining with gratitude. "and thank god i had y/n then," he adds, his gaze meeting yours. you look up, a warm smile spreading across your face, feeling happy to have been a source of comfort and support for wujin in the past. the atmosphere around the campfire is filled with a sense of camaraderie and friendship, the earlier tensions forgotten in the face of shared laughter and stories.

cheongsan's voice is low and gentle, "me and... onjo..." he begins, his words trailing off as he collects his thoughts. you sit still, your gaze fixed forward, giving him your full attention. the others seem to sense the importance of this moment, and a hush falls over the group. cheongsan takes a deep breath before continuing, his voice barely above a whisper, "we've been friends since we were kids... but i think i wanted more." he pauses, his eyes darting to onjo, who looks down, her face hidden behind her hair. the air is thick with anticipation, as if everyone is holding their breath, waiting for cheongsan to reveal more. you remain still, your heart pounding in your chest, as cheongsan's words hang in the balance.

onjo tries to brush it off with a laugh, "stop, guys, he's just joking." but her attempt at humor falls flat, as everyone's serious faces remain fixed on her. cheongsan's expression turns sincere, "i'm serious. i've always liked you, onjo-ah." he says, his voice filled with vulnerability. but onjo's reaction is not what he hoped for. she stares at him, her eyes wide with shock, before quickly standing up and walking away from the group.

the atmosphere is heavy with tension, and you can feel the pain in cheongsan's chest as he looks down at his lap, his eyes welling up with tears. you try to offer some comfort, whispering to him, "she just needs a second to process." but the words feel hollow, as the weight of cheongsan's confession hangs in the air. the group sits in silence, unsure of how to react, as onjo disappears into the darkness, leaving cheongsan's heart exposed and vulnerable.

cheongsan's gaze follows onjo's figure into the darkness, his eyes fixed on her as she walks away from the group. he looks out towards the city, his expression a mix of longing and uncertainty. suhyeok notices his gaze and gestures for him to go after her. cheongsan takes a deep breath, then looks over at you, "guess the seconds over." he says with a hint of sadness, before getting up and walking towards onjo. the rest of the group is left in an awkward silence, unsure of how to react. daesu breaks the silence, whispering to hroryeong, "i had no idea. did you know?" his comedic timing is impeccable, and you can't help but laugh to yourself.

hroryeong playfully scolds him, "you're the only one who didn't know." wujin chimes in, "i didn't either." his confession makes you giggle even harder, and you place your hand over your mouth to hold back a fit of laughter. the tension is momentarily lifted, and the group shares a moment of levity, but the weight of cheongsan's confession still lingers in the air.

joonyeong tries to lighten the mood, "hey, remember that time in school when the mascot brought out flowers for the boys on white day?" he chuckles, and the others start to chime in with their own memories. "oh man, i forgot about that!" wujin exclaims, laughing. "yeah, and the boys were so embarrassed!" hroryeong adds, giggling. but daesu shakes his head, "i don't remember that." hroryeong teases him, "of course you don't, you were probably too busy sleeping in class!"

daesu defends himself, "i was not! i just... uh... had a lot on my mind." the playful banter between daesu and hroryeong starts to escalate into a full-blown quarrel, but you tune it out, noticing something else. suhyeok gets up from his spot beside wujin and daesu, and walks over to take cheongsan's empty spot next to you. he sits down quietly, his eyes fixed on the ground, but you can sense his presence beside you. the group's laughter and chatter continue, but you feel a sense of awkwardness now, sitting next to suhyeok, who had just moments before been trying to make amends with you.

you try to focus on the conversation, but your awareness of suhyeok's presence beside you makes it difficult. you can't help but wonder why he moved to sit next to you, and what he's thinking. hroryeong and daesu's quarrel continues, with joonyeong and wujin trying to intervene. "hey, hey, let's not fight about this," joonyeong says, laughing. but daesu and hroryeong are too caught up in their argument to listen. "i'm telling you, i was not sleeping in class!" daesu insists.

suhyeok clears his throat, and you turn to look at him. he's watching the argument with a mixture of amusement and concern. "hey, let's just drop it, okay?" he suggests, his voice calm and soothing. the group slowly starts to settle down, with hroryeong and daesu still exchanging playful jabs. but the tension has dissipated, and the mood is once again light and playful. you turn back to suhyeok, and catch him looking at you. he quickly looks away, but you sense a hint of a smile on his face. you can't help but wonder what's going through his mind.

suhyeok's gaze drifts back to the ground, but you can sense a subtle shift in his demeanor. he seems more relaxed, more at ease, now that the argument has passed. the group's conversation flows easily, with laughter and jokes filling the air. you find yourself smiling, feeling a sense of belonging among these friends. as the night wears on, the fire crackles and spits, casting a warm glow over the group. suhyeok shifts slightly, his arm brushing against yours. it's a fleeting touch, but it sends a warm feeling through your gut.

cheongsan's sudden yell pierces the night air, "onjo!" he screams, his voice laced with panic. you all turn to see what's wrong, and your heart skips a beat as you take in the scene before you. gwinam, his face twisted into an evil grin, is holding onjo in a tight grip. his eyes seem to gleam with a hungry intensity, making your blood run cold.

you stand up, fear coursing through your veins like ice. gwinam's face flashes in your mind, alongside myungwhan's, and you're transported back to that dark, traumatic moment. their laughter echoes in your mind, their cruel words still etched in your memory: "you're worthless." your breath catches in your throat as you take a step forward, your eyes fixed on gwinam. cheongsan charges towards gwinam, but the latter is too strong. with a swift motion, gwinam grabs cheongsan and slams him to the ground, his back hitting the earth with a sickening thud.

"cheongsan!" suhyeok exclaims, his hand instinctively going to your waist as he prepares to rush past you. but before he can take a step, onjo darts forward, her small frame bravely intervening. she grabs gwinam's arm, trying to pull him off cheongsan. however, gwinam's power is too much for her. with a cruel elbow strike, he sends onjo flying backward. she crashes to the ground, her body crumpling from the impact. hroryeong and jimin rush to her side, helping her up. onjo's face is etched with pain, but she's determined to stand her ground.

suhyeok takes advantage of the distraction to sprint towards gwinam, his eyes blazing with anger. suhyeok's kick connects with gwinam's stomach, sending him flying off cheongsan. daesu and wujin rush to cheongsan's side, helping him up and checking for injuries. meanwhile, suhyeok faces off against gwinam, dodging and parrying his wild punches with ease. he looks like a total boss, his movements fluid and confident. you can't help but feel a surge of admiration for him, but gwinam refuses to back down. as suhyeok attempts to tackle him, gwinam stands firm, his fists clenched together. with a powerful slam, he sends suhyeok crashing to the ground, his back throbbing in pain. suhyeok struggles to get up, but gwinam is relentless. with a swift kick, he sends suhyeok flying into a stack of chairs, which crumble beneath him. suhyeok lies there, dazed and groaning in agony.

the group gasps in shock, horrified by gwinam's brutality. cheongsan takes a step forward, his eyes blazing with anger, but daesu and wujin hold him back. onjo, still shaken from her earlier fall, looks on with tears in her eyes. hroryeong and jimin try to comfort her, but their faces are etched with worry. gwinam stands tall, his chest heaving with exertion, his eyes gleaming with a fierce intensity. he's unstoppable, and it's clear he won't hesitate to hurt anyone who gets in his way.

gwinam's sinister grin and chilling words send a shiver down your spine. you quickly scan the area, your eyes locking onto the hammer you had found earlier by the rooftop entrance. without hesitation, you sprint towards it and grab the hammer, its weight feeling reassuring in your hands. as you turn back to face gwinam, you see him laughing maniacally, his eyes glinting with a sadistic gleam. "everyone but cheongsan can go. unless you wanna die with him," he sneers, his voice dripping in pure evil.

you notice something odd - it looks like he's chewing on something, his jaw moving slightly as he speaks. it's a small, disturbing detail that only adds to the sense of unease. the group exchanges fearful glances, unsure of what to do next. suhyeok, still recovering from his injuries, looks like he's about to charge at gwinam again. cheongsan, however, stands tall, his eyes fixed defiantly on gwinam. onjo takes a step forward, her voice shaking but resolute. "we're not leaving cheongsan behind." hroryeong and jimin nod in agreement, standing shoulder to shoulder with onjo.

the situation is escalating, and it's clear that things are about to take a dark and dangerous turn. gwinam's face twists in rage as he spits out his words, "then you can all rot in hell with him."