#I AM GOING TO WORK ON AMENDING THIS I PROMISE

[jtownraindancer]

actual footage of me cleaning out my notes app & finding the list of stuff I've yet to upload to ~The Burn Collection~

[xinganhao]

💘 fake dating seungkwan.

☆ Breaking: SEVENTEEN's Seungkwan Confirms He's In A Relationship [BREAKING] 30m ago

Boo Seungkwan of SEVENTEEN confirms that he's currently dating someone. This comes on the heels of Dispatch reports that Seungkwan is involved in a romantic relationship with an actress.

Seungkwan's agency, Pledis Entertainment, has confirmed the idol's relationship status. "Seungkwan is seeing someone with positive feelings," the agency says in a statement. "We hope that you will look warmly upon their relationship."

Congratulations to the couple!

Listen to SEVENTEEN's newest mini album 'SPILL THE FEELS' here.

COMMENTS • 204 COMMENTS

r/kpop • 3d ago donquix0tes

'Fake dating' contracts?

i swear i'm not just in denial about bsk's dating news (LOL) but i heard rumors that 'fake dating' exists in the industry, especially between actors/actresses - idols??? they said it's this whole underground thing so the actors get more traction, the idols get more streams. is this real or is it just stuff you see in fanfics 😂 i'm asking because i can be a bit gullible lmfao

↑ 30 ↓ 🗨 12 ↷ Share

Contract No. 052615PROFESSIONAL SERVICES AGREEMENT

THIS AGREEMENT made and entered into this 28th day of SEPTEMBER 2024 by and between BOO SEUNGKWAN, hereinafter called IDOL, and [YOUR NAME], hereinafter called ACTRESS for a FAKE DATING ENGAGEMENT.

A. IDOL and ACTRESS agree to engage in a fake relationship for the intents and purposes specified under I: RATIONALE, which by this reference is incorporated herein.

B. This Agreement shall take effect on OCTOBER 28, 2024; contingent upon prior approval to the agencies of IDOL and ACTRESS. The Agreement shall end on MARCH 31, 2025, unless earlier terminated or extended by contract amendment.

C. IDOL/ACTRESS may terminate this Agreement for its convenience any time, in whole or part, by giving the opposing party fourteen-day (14-day) written notice thereof.

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seungkwan updates @boosadanfiles seungkwan at the recent christian louboutin event 🥹 in the caption of the post, he said @yourusername was his date! 🗨 191 ⟳ 1.8K ♡ 5.9K

´◡` ꗃ @yourusername lucky to be doing this with a friend. you make it easy, @hit_thekwan. — Jeju-do, South Korea 🗨 1 ♡ 3

🍊 ꗃ @hit_thekwan Replying to @yourusername we still have three more months 😆 don't give up on me yet

From: Boo Seungkwan <boo.seungkwan98@gmail.com> To: You <yourname@gmail.com> Date: March 31, 2025 Subject: so..?

this e-mail is being written right after my meeting with my company, but right before i text you lol. i'm going to schedule send this for the end of our contract so this is actually going to be a letter from seungkwan of the past 👻 don't be spooked! hehe

jokes set aside, i don't know what the next couple of months will look like. i understand why this is being done. you need the publicity for your drama... we have our cb... bla bla bla. it's all the usual stuff in this godforsaken industry

honestly, when i first got approached with the idea of faking a relationship for the group's benefit, i was 10000% ready to say no. but. i found out who it was going to be

and i just thought, like, okay. we already know each other. we're friends! and i guess i just wanted to make sure things would be easy for you, too. bc you deserve someone who will understand you, who will help you and be there for you through something hellish as this

so here's some promises i'll make you, even though you won't see them until much later lololol: i promise to be THE best fake boyfriend there is!!! i'll be cooperative, i'll play the part. i'll try to make sure this arrangement doesn't feel like work (even though it is), and when it's too much, we can run away to jeju for a weekend (just kidding) (or am i?)

by the time you get this, you'll know whether i got to do all that lol. make sure to hold me accountable ok!!! if i wasn't a good fake boyfriend, then show me this and i'll get you a meal, your choice. if i was a good fake boyfriend... well, that was the goal 🤞

i feel like this is already getting super long, so i'll end it now. i'm going to text you to see what you think of the arrangement. hopefully, you're fine with it, or else this would all just be a waste of writing lol. see you, fake girlfriend :)

forever yours, your bf-to-be seungkwan 🍊

p.s. this is the embarrassing part so i'm burying it in the very bottom 🤷 but i also hope that this whole thing will give me the courage to say what i really want to, which is something like

p.s.s. they didn't have to contract me to date you. i would've done it on my own accord. i would've done it for free.

p.s.s.s. i was ready to do all of it, only because it's you

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 You Says.

Post prison Reid x Reporter!reader

Read part one here!

Summary: After a rough night and some misunderstandings, Spencer needs to do everything he can to make things right with you and get his relationship back on track. The problem is, things aren't so easy for you, and he's willing to do anything you ask, even take care of you when no one else will.

Words: 3,1k.

TW: mentions of crime and trauma. angst+comfort. the reader gets sick (nothing serious, just a normal cold). english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: Ok, I didn't think of doing a second part before, but reading my own work made me so sad😭 the cat deserves happy parents (we are the cat) but I warn you that I do not believe in magic apologies.

As an interesting side note, both parts of this story are named after children's games. In this case, it's for "Simon Says," which I thought was pretty cool because in this part, Spencer literally does whatever the reader wants.

I also want to thank you for the support you gave to the first part and for the 300 followers💝 I could not say it before but it makes me very happy.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

I. I Love You, I’m Sorry.

Spencer had been losing his mind since the last time he saw you in person, and it was all his fault. From the moment the door to his apartment closed behind you and the oven beeped, he began to feel the broken pieces of his heart that you had once held together unravel and shatter even more. He hated himself for letting his insecurities get in the way of the one good thing he had managed to have over the past few years, and for pushing you away when you didn't want to. You had been his exception among all the bad things that had happened in his life for as long as he could remember, the only one that didn't seem to want to be temporary and left him when he least expected it. And he himself had forced you out of his life, even when you didn't want to, begging him with tear-filled eyes for a little remorse that he didn't give you.

Just a few hours after the incident, he tried to go to work as if nothing had happened to clean up the mess the leak had made and put the killer in jail. He brought Penelope the promised cookies and your computer for her to examine because it felt right at the time. Part of him needed her to find real proof of your betrayal so he could stop feeling bad about making you cry and saying such ugly things to you.

Then he found out that you were telling the truth and that your computer contained nothing but photos of the two of you, all the articles he had ever written or been mentioned in your searches, and a few writings in which you poured out all your love for him in the cheesiest and most poetic way possible. You loved him, you really did, and there was no evidence to the contrary, because even Garcia could later assure him that the information had come anonymously and had been bought for five hundred dollars. But it was too late, because he had given you a conviction without even knowing it.

That's when he started to fixate on making amends for what he'd done. Every time you left work, bouquets of your favorite flowers with notes asking for forgiveness and wishing you a good night began to appear in your car. He also made a point of stopping by to talk to you and repeat how sorry he was. You knew this would happen when he realized his mistake. You had told him before you left, and that's why you refused to see him. It was good that the security guards at your workplace didn't let him in, even with his FBI credentials. The tricky part was your building because the doorman already knew him and let him in normally thanks to the excuses Spencer made up, even though you said a thousand times that he shouldn't have.

And that was happening again, for the fifth or sixth time in the last few days.

“Please, just let me talk to you and tell you how sorry I am. Listen to me for a moment.” You could hear Reid's voice from the other side of the door.

You didn't say anything. You just sat with your back against the door and one hand on your heart, as if you were trying to hold it. It didn't even cross your mind that he was in the same situation.

“Just a few minutes, please."

Once more, you remained silent.

Silence was the worst answer someone could give. You knew it, and it hurt to have to do it with him. But you had no choice because you knew that by looking into his eyes for just a few seconds, all the bad things would dissipate and maybe you would even forgive him without thinking just because of the love you had for him. You didn't like being this vulnerable and having so many feelings for someone who didn't trust you.

Lately, you've been spending every waking moment wondering what you could have done to make him believe that you were really capable of betraying him in such a cruel and selfish way. You were the one who woke up in the middle of the night to try to comfort him every time he had a nightmare or couldn't sleep. You drove to his apartment no matter what time it was to make sure he was okay. You lost your breath repeating that he was safe with you. You drank many cups of coffee the next day so you wouldn't fall asleep on the job every time the situation repeated itself. That's why you started sleeping in his apartment, wrapped in his arms because he said it made him happy to wake up and see you. And even with all that, Spencer was able to believe that you didn't love him.

You were running your hands through your hair and sighing, trying to block out all the thoughts running through your head, when you heard his phone ring. You could tell it was important by the way he spoke and changed his tone of voice, so you got up from the floor at the same time he did to put your ear to the door.

“I really have to go now, but could you open up a little bit so I can take a quick look at you?” He asked in a pleading tone after hanging up the call. “Please, I know you can hear me. I can see the shadow of your feet under the door.”

You really thought he didn't know you were there, feeling like a fool for listening to every word he said.

“If you want to see me, turn on the TV.” Your voice finally reached Spencer, and it gave him a glimmer of hope. It was the first time you had spoken to him since that night, and even though there was a door between the two of you, you were talking to him.

“It's not enough.”

“And it's not my problem.”

That was more hurtful than your silence.

“I know, it's mine.” He replied after a couple of seconds, trying to process everything. “And I will do everything I can to fix it...I have to go now, but take care of yourself. The nights have been getting colder lately, so wrap up warm.”

You knew it was a bit silly to think of that now, but his attention to detail was impressive. Since you did the evening news, you used to get off work very late, and the change from air conditioning to the city cold was quite a lot. Spencer had cited scientific studies to you many times to make you aware and know what kind of clothing materials to use to avoid a cold. You missed that a lot.

If he had the same attitude as the night of the conflict, it would be easier. You could hate him and stop loving him so strongly.

“I love you, William misses you and so do I.”

You frowned because you didn't know anyone by that name.

“William?”

“Our cat.” He answered simply. “When we talked about how we would name him, you said that a lot of people name their pets after their favorite characters. You love the movie ‘Notting Hill’ and whenever we watch it, you always say you like Hugh Grant's character named William. It also means strong-willed warrior. I just thought you would like it.”

You didn't say anything at the time because you had to cover your hand with your mouth to keep from doing so, but you liked it and you liked it too much. Once again, he focused on the details.

“You can change it if you want because I don't know if he likes it, but what I do know is that he misses you. He lies on your blanket and starts meowing, and he also looks at the door. I certainly think that every time I come home he expects it to be you.” He kept talking as he received no response from you. “It sounds like I'm talking about myself. And it's true because it happens to me the same way.”

When he paused, a tear escaped and fell down your cheek. It wasn't fair for him to say those things now.

“If you want to see him and me not being there, you can send me a message...but I'd really like to be.” He paused again, as if searching for the perfect words.

What did it cost him to have searched for the perfect words the night he distrusted you?

“I must go, I love you.”

The last thing you heard before he left was Spencer's footsteps heading towards the elevator.

II. I Miss You, I’m Sorry.

Just two weeks later, you realized that maybe you should have listened to Spencer when he said the nights were getting too cold. If you had, now you probably wouldn't be lying on your bed with an unbearable flu and no one there to bring you soup or a cold washcloth for your forehead because your mother was taking too long to get to city.

When you were younger, you thought it was a great idea to get as far away from your hometown as possible. Now, however, you realize that you need a familiar face to take care of you because you can't do it alone all the time.

You felt a sense of relief when you heard the door to your apartment open.

“Mom? I'm really hungry and the soup is all gone.” You spoke in a tired tone as you heard footsteps approaching. But at that moment, you watched as the cat you shared with Reid jumped onto the bed and started purring at you.

You thought you were hallucinating from the fever until you saw Spencer walking into your room with a couple of bags.

“I know you were expecting your mother, but we brought you soup and medicine.” He said, sitting up in bed to look closely at you and put a hand on your forehead. “You're burning up.”

“What are you doing here?” You asked, trying to pull away from his touch.

“Your mother called me because she couldn't find a flight today and was very worried. She asked me to take care of you.”

Of course she did, because she adored him and didn't know that things were bad between you two.

“I don't need you to take care of me.” You barely settled into bed and petted the cat. “Go to work, make sure no one leaks information.”

Oh, that was a low blow for him.

“I asked for a few days off because you have a high fever and someone needs to take care of you.”

“You don't have to...”

“I want to.” He said, interrupting you and putting a cold cloth on your forehead.

“Just because you're looking out for me doesn't mean I'm going to forget everything and forgive you.” You clarified right away, trying not to lose focus because of the relief you felt thanks to the cold compress.

“I know, and I don't expect you to. Just let me take care of you now, forget you hate me until you get better. I won't take advantage of this, I swear.” He looked at you with a serious gaze, as if he were swearing an oath. “Please.”

God, not puppy dog eyes now.

You used to love it when he looked at you with those sparkling eyes. Now, though, you felt manipulated by it.

“Fine, give me the soup.” You finally agreed, knowing you didn't have much of a choice. “Just a warning, please don't answer any calls near me. I can listen in and use the information to hire a nurse.”

He ignored the comment and didn't bring it up to make you uncomfortable. He sat on the edge of the bed, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. His touch was light, and his eyes searched yours as he spoke.

“Is there anything else besides soup I can bring you? More tissues, or maybe some medicine?” He asked in a soft, soothing voice.

You shook your head, still a bit dazed by the situation and your stomach rumbling. You watched as Spencer disappeared into the kitchen, and you could hear his footsteps echoing throughout the house, followed by the clatter of pots and pans and the sound of the stove being turned on. You could only lie back on your bed, feeling a wave of tiredness wash over you.

A few minutes later, he came back with a bowl of chicken noodle soup and sat down next to you on the bed, being careful not to spill anything.

“Are you planning to feed me soup?” You asked, with a hint of irony in your voice, as you watched me hold the spoon and watch you.

“If you wish, I'll be happy to.” He replied simply and brought the spoon gently to your mouth.

“I'm not a baby.”

Especially not his baby.

“You hate me, I know. But I really want to take care of you, and I won't leave until at least your mother arrives.” He paused for a second, as if to catch his breath. “If you don't want me around, that's okay, I'll just sit in the corner of the room or in the living room in silence. It hurts, but I'll take whatever you want.”

You remained silent for several seconds, dedicating yourself to stroking the cat to avoid Spencer's gaze.

“I don't hate you.” Was the only thing you could say at the time.

Something inside you was expecting a more exaggerated reaction for letting your guard down a bit, or maybe you were just too feverish. The thing was, he had only given you a small, almost non-existent smile.

“I know.” He finally spoke and gently adjusted the cold compress on your forehead. “And that's why I hate myself.”

At that moment, while you were trying to make sense of how things had changed so much in just a week, he was watching you.

Spencer was waiting for you to explode, to tell him how sorry you were for getting involved with him and his complicated world, that it was all one big mistake that you would regret forever. He was expecting disaster, pain, tears, and a lot of chaos.

But you didn't give him any of that.

Just a sweet nothing.

He could tell at that moment that even though you were in a feverish state and had many reasons to be cruel, you would not be. He realized that you would never yell at him or do anything to hurt him, that the most painful thing you could give him was your silence. And it was then that he confirmed that you loved him the way he thought he did not deserve to be loved: honestly and genuinely.

“Why?” You whispered after a few minutes of silence. “Why are you with me if you don't trust me?”

“I trust you.” He looked you straight in the eye as he spoke, trying to show that he was being completely sincere. “I just don't trust myself.”

You frowned and let out a groan from the discomfort in your forehead. You weren't sure if you were hallucinating because of the cold or if Spencer was really shivering.

“I don't think I'm good enough for you, or deserve you, or that you love me because you want to.” He finally admitted, his voice slightly shaky. He seemed to be in a worse state than you. “It's silly because you've never given me a reason to distrust you.”

“I know you thought I was going to leave. But I didn't want to leave until you asked me to.” You were close to crying, so you pretended to sneeze to hide your watery eyes. You didn't want to show how vulnerable you were. “It was easier to distrust me and blame me like I was just another bad person you catch.”

“Yes, but...” He replied, trying to answer your question.

“Don't talk. It's my turn.”

He nodded after a few seconds, watching you with concern. “Just be careful, you're still sick.”

You already knew how sick you were and how deplorable you probably looked, but you wanted to say it all and stop feeling a lump in your throat.

“You say you trust me, but you really don't, and I've been trying to understand you for almost a year, Spencer. It's been eleven months of trying not to invade your space, avoiding topics that make you tense or your eyes glaze over.” You had to stop to catch your breath and drink some water with his help. “And you think I don't understand you or really know you, but I do. I know how all your dishes are arranged, I know how you like to fold clothes and eat toast, I know that chess reminds you of someone because your eyes get watery every time we see a board, I know about the book signed by Maeve that you hide in your closet and about which you tense up every time I'm near, I know about your nightmares about prison that you don't like to talk about, and about your mother's favorite colors that change every day. I know so much about you, and yet you think I know nothing.”

Once more, there was a long, quiet pause.

“I'm so sorry.” He held your hands as he repeated the same thing, this time with a truly sincere tone. The whole room was still tense as his knees touched the floor, and the apology he gave you seemed like a plea. “I'm really sorry. I know you don't want apologies, you want trust, and I'm going to show you that.”

You didn't say anything as he sat down next to you on the bed.

“I trust you, that's why I always tell you about my cases. And I will tell you about all my past, if you want, because for me you are my present and my future...of course, only if you still want to.”

The eyes of both of you were fixed on the cat you shared, who was purring and lying very comfortably in the middle of the bed. It was nice to know that at least one of the three of you was happy.

“Tell me.”

And just as you asked, he told you everything because he wanted to show you that he trusted you.

This time he really trusted.

[soapssuds]

Imagine taking Katheryne's place for the day in Liyue, and when the traveler comes by for a new commission they are surprised to see you. You, on the other hand, aren't surprised to see them as you expected for them to come by. However, what you didn't expect was to see someone who doesn't belong.

He was clad in expensive looking attire, the contrast of blues and whites matching perfectly with his pale complexion and long silver hair. His eyes were mesmerizing too. They reminded you much of your dear friend Zhongli's eyes despite the major difference in color.

"Oh, y/n, we didn't expect to see you here today! Where's Katheryne?"

"Hello Paimon, Traveler, Katheryne is out for the day and a new commission popped up asking for anyone who was free to take her place. The mora is good, so I decided to take up the job since I don't have anything else to do."

"Oohhh, that makes sense," Paimon answered.

You smiled before directing your attention to their tall friend, "may I ask who this is?"

"This Neuvillette," Paimon introduced with an air of arrogance in her voice, "he's the chief justice of Fontaine! Pretty cool, huh?"

You bowed to Neuvillette, "it's nice to meet you sir."

"No, the pleasure is mine... your name is y/n, correct? The traveler and Paimon talk a lot about you. They were actually saying how they wanted me to meet you at some point."

Before you could say anything, you felt a tug on your sleeve, "miss y/n, your shift is over."

Nodding you turn back to the three before you, "well, as you can tell, since I'm done working for the day, why don't I tag along? That is, if it's alright."

Meeting Neuvillette was definitely interesting. He was both kind and courteous. A true gentleman. Not to mention that you quite like how he spoke to you. His voice was nice, smooth, and definitely easy on the ears. And just as he liked talking about Fontaine, he also liked listening to you.

Most of the time when you hung out with the traveler and Paimon, Paimon was usually the one who dominated the conversation (not that you minded, you weren't much of a talker to begin with), so being the center of attention in a conversation for once definitely made you nervous. Especially when such a handsome and refined man was giving such a attention.

And later you would fail to notice how Paimon and the traveler would give each other a high-five before leaving both you and Neuvillette to talk amongst yourselves. Neuvillette noticed, however, but decided to not say anything.

"You know Miss y/n," Neuvillette started but you gently cut him off, "y/n is fine."

"Y/n," he amended with a smile, "I've actually been quite the fan of yours for some time. And truthfully, it was I who asked the traveler to meet you."

As it turns out, you were actually a performer of sorts. Your voice was something that everyone could admire for hours on end. But at some point you decided to take a break. The life of an adventurer too good to pass up. (You did promise yourself to sing again someday, but for now, you were on a ... vacation of sorts.)

"You- you're a fan of mine?"

"Yes, I always enjoyed your performances when you would grace Fontaine with your voice. And when I heard you had went on break, I honestly thought I wouldn't be able to hear you again."

Your face felt hot all of sudden, it wasn't everyday that such a gorgeous man showered you in such praises. You felt him grab your hand as he stopped walking to look at you.

"Y/n, I-"

"Am i interrupting something?"

You looked to see who it was and immediately broke out into a bright smile, "Mr. Zhongli!"

You gently let go of Neuvillette's hand before walking up to your friend to give him a hug, "I haven't seen you in awhile! Where on Teyvat have you been?"

"Just traveling my dear, nothing to worry about."

As you pulled away to introduce Zhongli to Neuvillette, you didn't notice how the air got thicker and the area more tense than what it was.

Oh, and did I forget to mention that you didn't know that Zhongli is actually the geo Archon? Yeah...

Having two dragons fight over you is quite nice, though.

[toruro]

— ✧ exes and oh's

pairing. choi seungcheol x reader

description. when your ex-best friend breaks up with your other ex-best friend, you’re stuck between keeping this door (that you never wanted closed) shut tight, and making amends. naturally, choosing to let your heart open to the person who ripped it apart isn’t the easiest of decisions, but then again, life has a funny way of making you choose.

tags. smut (18+), UNEDITED (i wrote this mostly when i was half asleep, there will be missing words), angst, oral (f receiving), petnames, past toxic relationships/ friendships, referenced cheating, alcohol consumption (+ mentions of vomiting + poor decisions abt alcohol in general), rebuilding relationships, trust issues, joshua is extremely protective it's honestly a little annoying, a disgusting amount of internal monologue i am So sorry, theres a lot in this one so if i missed anything lmk

fic playlist.

w/c. 15.8k+

a/n. 1K SPECIAL SORRY IT'S A LITTLE LATE...anyways i really tried to make sure this wasn't super corny but i prob got carried away i can't even tell anymore. update. this is cringe as hell

Your day today is slow, like every other. You aren’t sure why you expect anything different—well maybe you do know. It’s the optimist in you, a small voice in your head says, as you drop down your bookbag next to Joshua’s chair, the two of you slipping into your seats. Optimism my ass, you shoot back at yourself.

“Can you cover my shift?” Joshua asks, turning to you on his chair. You two have just finished your econ lecture and are sitting in the library to catch up on notes.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you give him a wary look. “Joshua,” you whine, pulling out your notebook and pen down.

“C’mon you said you needed some extra cash, and I need the night off anyways. I’ll get you back with something,” he promises as you narrow your eyes.

“Now what do you have that makes you need the night off?”

“Well there’s this party—” he pauses when you huff.

“And what’s to say I wouldn’t like to go to this party?” you retort, slightly annoyed that he expects you to cover his shift over something like this.

Joshua signs, running a hand through his hair. “Well I can say that I don’t think you would be especially keen on going,” he tells you honestly, and then when you catch the look in his eyes you falter.

You think about probing further, but second guess yourself—you probably shouldn’t. It isn’t good for your heart. You are trying to work on putting yourself, your heart, first, but as they say, curiosity killed the cat. “Why do you say that?” you ask, and Joshua gives you that look.

He knows where this is going, and he’s slightly disappointed in you for going against your personal goal of not bringing it up. Then again, he doesn’t control you, and while he can try to guide you down the path of reparations and healing, he can’t force you anywhere.

“Cheol’s birthday is tomorrow,” he tells you like you don’t know. Like you don’t still have it marked down in bright blue sharpie on your calendar. It’s only been six months since you’ve last talked to him, and you don’t feel the need to buy a whole new calendar for the sake of getting rid of his and Yejin’s name.

That, and you don’t think taking his name off would help you forget anyways. Ten years, you think to yourself, ten years shouldn’t be disposed of as easily as a calendar, although it seems Yejin and Cheol had no problem doing just that.

Joshua catches you zoning out. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“No it’s okay,” you sigh, leaning back in your chair. “It’s not like I didn’t know, I don’t know why I asked.” Joshua looks at you sadly.

“The party…it’s going to be a big one, since Soonyoung is throwing it. You can come if you really want, you probably won’t run into Seungcheol anyways,” Joshua offers.

You scrunch up your face, shaking your head. “And Yejin? Either way, I don’t want to even think about how it would look if I showed up to a party for his birthday.”

Joshua gives you a wear look. “You don’t know?”

“Huh? Know what?”

“Cheol and Yejin broke up a while ago.”

“Oh.” You blink once, then twice, staring down at your shoes before inhaling sharply.

“I’m sorry. I thought you knew.”

You shrug, responding, “Whatever. Don’t apologize. I don’t have any business with either of them anyways.”

“Okay but—”

“Seriously Josh,” you mutter, turning to him so he can see the pleading look on your face. “Let’s talk about something else, yeah? I’ll cover your shift.” Joshua gives you a tentative look, opening his mouth before you stop him. “Seriously,” you repeat, “It’s fine.”

And the truth is, you are fine. Sure it hurts when you think about them too much, and even if they are broken up, it doesn’t really make you feel much better, but you are okay. Your days are often dull, yes, but you aren’t unhappy. You’re content, and being in your final year of university, you figure that being content is all you need.

Excitement and love are not quite at the forefront of your mind, and while it does cause a nasty knot to build up in your throat when you think about Cheol and Yejin and all the fun times you have spent with them, you quietly tell yourself that things just played out the way they were supposed to.

You tell yourself that if it didn’t work out, it wasn’t meant to work out. That your life had plans, and that those plans didn’t include them.

As you walk home, you scoff to yourself, thinking about how Cheol and Yejin were willing to give up ten years of friendship with you—with each other—for something that didn’t even last half a year.

Of course it’s painful, but at the end of the day, you’re okay with that.

“You’re pathetic,” Yejin spits out, and you feel yourself growing dizzy. Her animosity that’s more apparent than ever is all you can think about it, and it has your jaw going slack. “How could you—” her face contorts into something so full of hate that you brace yourself for her next words, “How could you do this to me?”

You still, blinking as you let the words sink in. You want to argue, to fight back, to defend yourself, but the words fall flat on your tongue. You want to scream, I didn’t do anything to you, want to tell her that your feelings aren’t there to hurt her, but you can’t. “Yejin—”

“It doesn’t even matter now,” she cuts you off, sucking in a sharp breath, her face that was momentarily scrunched up into anger is now relaxing, looking back at the door where music booms from the party.

“Are you just going to leave?” you manage to ask, steading your breaths as best as you can. Yejin looks at you and from the way she’s slightly taller than you, you nearly cower back in anticipation for her next words.

Yejin always did tend to have a bit of a mean streak, but only towards those she felt had wronged her—never to you. Always had a snarky comment to throw, but never in your direction. Always ready to be on the offense if she felt she needed to, and for the first time in your ten years of friendship, you know what it’s like to be on the receiving end.

Yejin never answers your question. “Cheol likes me,” she tells you as if it isn’t obvious. As if you haven’t mulled over that fact for the past month, the tell-tale lips of Joshua spilling you Seungcheol’s secrets many nights before. “He doesn’t like you.” Yejin pauses. “Because you’re boring.”

Your world stills. Everything was spinning in a hazy maze a moment ago but now it all has paused and her words are hitting you in slow motion. “What?” you try to ask but your voice comes out hardly above a whisper.

Yejin scoffs, and you know in this moment that that is the meanest thing she could have done. “You’re boring,” she repeats, “and that’s why—” she takes a deep breath, “—even if he didn’t like me, he wouldn’t like you, so I’m telling you now to give up.”

You gulp, and the words spill out of your mouth before you can stop. “I was never going to make a move on him,” you retort, finally finding the words stuck in your throat, and while you gain confidence for a moment, it withers away when you catch the amused look on Yejin’s face. “I can’t believe you would think I’d go for him if you liked him.”

“That’s your problem!” Yejin exclaims exasperatedly. “You were going to do nothing even if none of us found out,” she spits out, and you feel your knees growing wobbly again as Yejin continues. “You claim you love him but you’re just willing to give him up like that? That’s pathetic. You are pathetic.”

She turns on her heel, and you call out to her one last time. “Are you—”

“Get Joshua to drive you home,” is the last thing she ever says to you.

Taking Joshua’s shift is boring. Not that you expect anything different—getting you excited for work is not one of your optimism’s capabilities. Evenings at the coffee shop are busier than one would expect, but after considering the fact that it’s the only one open past seven p.m. on campus, the crowd begins to make sense.

You spend your time making drinks for the many students who are—much like yourself—simply trying to get through the night, but you would be lying if you say you don’t notice that the turn out is a little…smaller. After all, it is a Friday evening and Soonyoung’s parties are infamous on campus for being…well for being thrown by Soonyoung.

He’ll invite anyone and everyone, so you wouldn’t be surprised if your instagram feed will be filled with nothing but pictures from Cheol’s party tonight. Not that you care. You don’t want to go, you have no reason to.

Still, you wonder: would Yejin show up? If they did break up, like Joshua told you, what were the circumstances? Are they still friends? What happened? Why did they—

No.You shouldn’t do this to yourself, you can’t. Yejin isn’t your friend anymore, and neither is Cheol. What happened between them shouldn’t be your business—it isn’t. Leave it alone, you tell yourself, tapping your foot on the ground.

Yet, every time you look over the empty seats that fill the cafe, you’re reminded of just why not many people are here tonight. Seungcheol. Chewing on your bottom lip, you go against your better judgment and pull out your phone, immediately tapping on instagram.

Your stories are filled with a plethora of videos and pictures from the house that Cheol shares with Jeonghan and some other friends. It’s dark both inside and out, the only thing illuminating the house being led lights and pool lights in the backyard.Fondly, you remember last summer and Cheol’s birthday, which was spent at his house with you. Yejin, and some other friends in his pool from morning ‘til night. Fun times, you think, and you quietly wonder if Cheol will remember those memories today, or if he will leave them in his dust.

Tapping through the stories, you purse your lips together, inhale sharply, and begin to make yourself a drink. It’s too late in the evening for you to be thinking about this.

Seungcheol’s head is pounding. He can hear his heartbeat ringing in his ears and then there’s the music that has its vibrations going straight to his heart as he stumbles over his own words.

Lights everywhere flashing different colors and he isn’t sure when one cup turns into two, which turns into three, which turns into fuck-knows-how-many until Jeonghan is grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and pushing him into an empty room, calling Joshua over.

Again, Seungcheol’s head is pounding. And he fucking loves it.

Joshua and Jeonghan, on the other hand, are frustrated. Cheol is trying to push through them, clawing for the door as his legs hit each other in a mangled mess until he’s falling onto them as they hold him back.

“You guys can’t fucking do this,” he whines, throwing his head back as he brings a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“When you said you were going to go crazy tonight,” Joshua mutters, “I didn’t realize you meant literally. Are fucking insane?” he hisses.

Cheol gives him an angry look, seeming to sober up for a moment as he straightens his back. “It’s my birthday, giving me a fucking break.”

“If you keep acting like this it’s going to be your death day soon too,” Jeonghan warns, earning him a glare.

“Seriously, do you want alcohol poisoning or something?” Joshua agrees. “Don’t drink anything else for the night, I’m serious.”

“And if I do?” Seungcheol challenges.

“We’ll tell Soonyoung to call it all off. You know he’ll do it if we ask,” Jeonghan states simply.

Cheol scoffs, but doesn’t reply, exercising his last bit of common sense to understand what Jeonghan and Joshua say, they mean. He needs to tread lightly.

Not that he cares much. He hasn’t got much to lose—Cheol only suggested this party because he knew that if it was anything short of big, he’d be reminded of the missing holes in his life right now.

His plan was unsuccessful, clearly, because even with cups after cups of spike punch, he’s still mulling over the fact there’s over a hundred people in this house and not a single one of them is you. Cheol had asked Joshua to bring it up with you—asked him to lead you in the right direction. The right direction being him.

He wasn’t really sure what his expectations were when he suggested it, but now it’s clear that Cheol really was expecting you to show up. He didn’t prepare for any other outcome, especially not one like this, where he’s wasted before the clock even strikes twelve. He’s on the verge of passing out when Joshua leaves the room, only Jeonghan and Cheol in each other’s presence as the former makes sure his elder doesn’t collapse.

Seungcheol’s head is pounding and he thinks it feels fucking great.

Fuck, he really needs to throw up.

You’re back at the cafe two days later, once again spending your evening serving students. It’s a bit of a lighter day, so only you and Jeongyeon are working, catching up and making light conversation through the day.

“Tired?” you ask her, when you catch her leaning against the counter with a wince.

She nods, turning up to look at you. “Chemistry is killing me. I want to cry just thinking about my next exam,” whe groans, throwing her head back. “I think humans have evolved too much. There’s no reason we should have explore this much about like, fucking atoms. Why can’t we just be happy creatures—ignorance is bliss, after all.”

You laugh out loud, not bothering to look at the door when you hear the bell of its opening ringing. “Take a break, yeah? I’ll manage for the next half an hour, if you just wanna sit and chill for a bit,” you offer, Jeongyeon letting out a sigh of relief.

“Are you serious?” she exclaims before hugging you tightly. “I fucking love you,” she says, pulling away and hopping down the back counter and to the back room while you smile widely before turning around to face the new customer at the counter.

Your smile drops faster than you can blink.

Seungcheol’s smile, at one time, was among one of your favorite sights on the whole damn planet. Now, you can’t help but turn away, too scared to look him in the eye. Scared that if you look long enough, you’ll find something you aren’t ready to see.

Don’t falter, you tell yourself. You haven’t been healing for months for it to amount to nothing. “What can I get you?” you ask casually, looking down at the cashier tablet, pretending to look through the catalog.

You didn’t look at him long enough to see if his smile vanished just as quickly as yours, to see if he expected you, to know what he was thinking at all honestly. You aren’t ready for that, and it’s pathetic, you think to yourself.

“Uh,” is the first thing you hear Cheol say to you after six months. You aren’t sure what you’re expecting him to follow with, but it is most definitely not, “Don’t you know my usual?”

It takes all your self control to not snap your eyes up and say, of course I know your usual, I never forgot, how could I forget, it’s always an iced latte with—“No, sorry, I don’t,” you say flatly, still not looking at him.

Cheol is slightly surprised by your choice of words, partly because when Joshua told him that your door was shut and not going to budge open, he didn’t really believe him. Maybe he knew he wouldn’t be able to hit it straight off the bat when he tried to reconcile, but he definitely wasn’t expecting this.

Not that he planned this—he knew you worked here, just not when. Cheol was just struck with luck when he walked in, ready to order a coffee when his eyes landed on your familiar figure this evening, and as an opportunist, he just couldn’t turn down the chance to try and talk to you.

Of course now, he isn’t sure if this course of action was the right one—you were never cold, not to him, not to Yejin, not to anyone really. It’s weird, he thinks.

“Iced latte with hazelnut syrup, please,” he replies with a small nod of acceptance. Joshua was right. Your door was locked.

“Your drink will come out over there,” you say, pointing over to the left counter. “Cash or card?”

He thinks it’s worth a shot to try again. “When was the last time I used anything but card?” Cheol accepts defeat when you don’t crack a smile, not even one bit.

“So you’re using card?” you ask plainly, turning the tablet over so he can swipe down. Cheol chuckles nervously as he pulls out his wallet. He doesn’t say anything after that, and for that, you are grateful.

Once he’s done paying, you turn on your heel quickly and make his drink. You don’t look up, don’t turn back—you don’t know if you’re ready to see him watching you, if he is at all. You aren’t sure what you’d like more: having him watching you, or having him not.

Gulping down a hard lump in your throat as you wait to pull the shot of espresso, you think deeply. It’s just how Jeongyeon said it, you figure: ignorance is bliss.

Jeongyeon thinks parties aren’t your thing. “They just don’t suit you,” she explains when you’re working one afternoon.

You furrow your eyebrows. “What do you mean not my thing?”

She shrugs, carrying in some boxes of cups. “It’s not a bad thing—I’m not calling you boring or anything—I’m just saying. You’re a very work-at-a-coffee-shop kind of girl, and not a let’s-go-party kind of girl, you know?”

The word bounces around in your mind. Boring.

“I can be both,” you huff. “You’re only saying this because I actually do work at a coffee shop.”

“Whatever,” Jeongyeon shrugs. “Come with me tonight then?”

You scrunch up your face. “Tonight? I work tonight,” you tell her with a frown.

“Get Hyunwoo to cover your shift then, I’m sure he’ll do it,” she suggests. You sigh, pulling out your phone to text your other co-worker.

“Okay, but if he says no it isn’t my fault.”

“Ya-da, ya-da, ya-da,” Jeongyeon mutters, waving her hand at you with a sly grin. “So I’ll see you tonight?” he asks with an eyebrow raised.

“If Hyunwoo is willing to give up his Saturday evening, I guess so.”

“Ugh, he better agree. Tell him if he does it, I’ll set him up on a date with Nayeon.”

You roll your eyes with a small giggle. “You need to stop using her to get what you want—she’s going to stop being your friend if you keep setting her up on dates so people can do you favors.”

“If that ends up happening…” Jeongyeon’s voice trails off as she glances at you. “…well that’s what you’re here for!”

It’s how you end up putting on some cute pants and black crop top that you’ve been saving for a night just like. Jeongyeon and you are ubering the way to whoever’s house this party is at, and you’re pretty sure neither of you have a good idea of how you’re supposed to get home, but that’s a problem for another time.

When you arrive, the house is already packed, but the two of you don’t have too much trouble slipping through the open door and into the crowd of people that fill each room. You haven’t been to a party in a while, and the loud music along with the rush you naturally feel when you're around so many people starts to return to you.

You see many faces—mostly ones you recognize, but the names fall flat on your tongue. Like you said, it’s been a while since you’ve come to a party.

When you make your way to the kitchen, you’re greeted by a kind, familiar voice. Smiling at Joshua as he calls out your name, you give him a sideways hug before you make your way to the counter with all the drinks. “Fancy seeing you here,” he teases, and you push him lightly. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“Jeongyeon invited me last minute…I had to get Hyunwoo to take my shift,” you explain.

“Ah, that makes sense,” and there’s a funny look on his face when he says it.

“What’s with that face?”

“Nothing! It’s just…”

“Just what?”

“You know Hyunwoo likes you, right?” Joshua says casually, pouring you a cup of punch. Usually, you don’t trust what other people hand to you, but Joshua is a safe exception.

“What?” you ask, eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets. “You’re lying. Did he tell you that?”

“Not directly…but it’s obvious. Seriously, who gives up their Saturday evening unless they’re making major bank or they have a crush.”

“Whatever. He’s a sophomore,” you murmur, taking a sip of the drink. It’s so sweet it almost masks the taste of alcohol. “Plus, he’s not my type. And I’m not interested in dating. I have too much going on,” you list.

“Please,” Joshua scoffs. “Your thesis and being a barista is not too much.”

“Shut up! I’m here, at a party, aren’t I?”

“Will you come to the next one?”

“That depends.”

“On?” he asks hopefully.

“Hm,” you hum, tapping a finger on your chin. “When, where, who, why, how.”

“Ugh, you’re seriously annoying about this. Just show up when I call you next, okay?”

“No promises. This night better be good if you want me to live up to that.”

“Well I’m not throwing this party so I can’t control that.”

You grin. “Too bad.” You’re having fun, you realize, even if it’s with the comfort of Joshua. You’re glad Jeongyeon brought you here. Joshua glances around for a moment and then back at you, opening his mouth to speak. “Don’t worry about me,” you tell him before he can say anything, “I can take care of myself.”

“I know, I just—” he stops himself. You know where this is going, and Joshua knows he doesn’t really need to say it. Cheol is here.

“It’s okay,” you tell him, patting his shoulder firmly, and in this moment you aren’t lying. Not to yourself, not to Joshua. It is okay. You are okay.

He watches you for a moment and then nods, ruffling your hair for a moment before waving goodbye to head off in some other room. You spend the next few minutes tossing your now empty cup to the side, heading off to some other room to find Jeongyeon. She’s dancing with some friends and the moment her eyes lay on you, she notices the deep flush to your face.

Calling you over, you dance with Jeongyeon, music blaring in your ear as you’re pressed up against her and other girls you’re sure you knew the names of at some point in your life. It’s exhilarating for a moment, but then suddenly, after around fifteen minutes, it isn’t.

“I’m going to head out for a breather,” you tell Jeongyeon loudly over the music, and she doesn’t seem to hear your words but with the way you’re pointing at the back door, she figures out what you’re saying. Nodding with a thumbs up, she smiles before turning back to dance along with her friends as you slip out of the huddle of people.

You notice a familiar face from the corner of your vision, but you feel too hot and the air is too stuffy for you to bear another second longer, escaping to the backyard.

It’s quiet outside. The night air is cool, and you now realize why no one is out in the pool like they usually are. Looking down at your feet, you contemplate your next actions for a moment before rolling up the hem of your pants until your knees and sitting by the edge of the pool, dipping in your legs.

You hiss at the cool feeling for a moment, but quickly adjust—you’ve been feeling too hot all evening and this is exactly what you need to take a moment to calm down. Alcohol has never quite been your best friend, the liquid always sending a flush of heat through your whole body.

The water soothes you, and you feel at peace for a moment. Then there’s the sound of the door sliding open and a familiar patter of footsteps thuds against the concrete.

“Isn’t the water cold?” Jeonghan says casually, standing next to you.

You shrug. “I needed to cool down.”

“Hm, fair,” he murmurs, sitting down himself and crossing his legs on the concrete edge of the pool. “It’s been a minute.”

“Has it?” you reply quietly. Yeah. It’s only been six months. You don’t let Jeonghan know that you’ve been counting.

“You don’t stop by to drop off the old pastries anymore,” he says. “Mingyu tries to make croissants now, but it’s the one thing he isn’t great at baking.”

You aren’t sure if it’s the alcohol speaking but you’re blunt when you respond, “That sucks.” Jeonghan laughs quietly, nodding. He isn’t used to you being like this —when Cheol said you were different, he wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t really this.

“How’s school? You working on your thesis and shit?”

You shrug. “I guess. Busy times.”

“You’re being awfully cold,” Jeonghan says with a tick of his tongue. “D’you not have any drinks—you’re always more fun when you’re drunk.”

“Thanks,” you mutter with furrowed eyebrows. Yejin used to tell you that.

“Sorry, that was rude,” Jeonghan says quickly when he notices how you still. “I didn’t mean it like that—I mean, I guess everyone is more fun when they’re drunk.” You chuckle a little at that and he lets out a sigh of relief at the fact that he’s able to get you to loosen up, even just a little. There’s an awkward silence that settles over the two of you as he watches you as you kick your feet in the water. Jeonghan thinks he might take his chances.“He misses you.”

You feel tears well up in your eyes, and you really hope Jeonghan doesn’t notice. You hate how you know who he’s talking about right away, not needing to say the name. “Jeonghan,” you say, and you know that your wobbly voice gives it all away, “Do you really think that’s fair?”

He says your name, and you turn away.

“Do you think that’s fair to me?” Jeonghan doesn’t say anything, so you continue. “He misses me? What about me? What about how I feel? Has Cheol thought about that? Has he?”

“I’m not trying to say it’s fair, I’m just telling you how he’s feeling—”

“Okay? There isn’t much for me to do about it,” you reply quickly. “Cheol and Yejin—” you let out a humorless laugh, “—it isn’t fair. Life isn’t fair. I was able to deal with it. I’m sure Cheol can too.”

“He’s really upset with himself for it,” Jeonghan tries to reason. “Even when he was with Yejin. They’d have arguments about it.”

“Okay? It’s not like I asked him to do that. It’s not like he was my friend to tell me about it.”

“Well if you would just listen—”

“No, you listen,” you say firmly, scrunching up your eyebrows. “Did you know what Yejin said to me the last time we spoke?” Jeonghan shakes his head. “She told me I was boring,” you spit out, and you realize that it’s the first time you’ve ever actually recounted that night to anyone but yourself. “And that she wasn’t even mad that I liked Cheol, but that she hated how I let her have him.” You pause to wipe away some tears. “And she was right. I didn’t put myself first. I could have told Cheol first, could’ve worked things out before she found out, could’ve done something for him, but I didn’t, and I’m not going to make that same mistake again so right now I am going to put myself first.”

Jeonghan is frowning now at the intake of all this information. It’s his first time hearing your side of the story, and he can’t help but get confused with the different timeline’s he’s got going on inside of his head. “Is this really putting yourself first?” he finally asks, and you glare at him.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m just saying. He was your best friend for a whole decade. Maybe having him back in your life will do more good than you think.”

You scoff. “You mean do Cheol more good to his life. Don’t look at me like that—what do you know about me that makes you so sure of this?”

“Cheol knows you, you know him, and as far as I know, you could use a friend or two.”

“Thanks for calling me friendless,” you say dryly. “But in case you haven’t noticed, I’m fine. I am over it, and I don’t mind having two less friends. And either way, Cheol couldn’t have been that good of a friend if he was willing to just let go of me like that after all those years.” Jeonghan stays silent. “I don’t need more drama in my life anyways,” you conclude, pulling your feet out of the water and standing up.

“You’re not going to give him a second chance?”

You don’t answer as you walk away.

Choi Seungcheol isn’t drunk, for once in his life. Okay that is an exaggeration, but it’s the first time in a few months that he isn’t stumbling over himself at a party. It’s the first time in a long while that he hasn’t even had a sip of alcohol at this outing, and honestly, he’s quite proud of himself.

He knows why that is, and he isn’t afraid to admit it. When Joshua walks past him and gives him a funny look, Cheol knows what’s up. “No drinks?” Joshua asks, quirking up a brow.

“Joshua,” he murmurs, and he’s surprised his friend can even hear him over the music. “Jeonghan is talking to her.”

Joshua purses his lips. “Yeah, I know.”

Choi Seungcheol is quiet at a party, for the first time in…well pretty much ever. He isn’t under the influence, but it feels like everything is racing through his mind at a hundred miles per hour. Leaning against the wall, Joshua softens his gaze.

“Loosen up,” he says, and then thinks again. “And please don’t do anything stupid.”

“I’m not drunk,” Cheol scoffs, standing up straight as he glances out the back door, watching you kick the pool water. He remembers his birthday party over a year ago—the pool, you, Yejin, fun. Cheol walks away, not sure where he’s heading and Joshua, using his better judgment, doesn’t follow.

Choi Seungcheol isn’t drunk, but he might as well be out of his damn mind.

Tonight is not your night.

Your head is pounding. You fucking hate it. You don’t like getting drunk, at least not like this. Not in the way that you’re seeing two of everything. Not in the way that your body feels like it’s on fire, sweat soaking your sheen black shirt. Not in the way that you’re thinking about everything you shouldn’t.

After your conversation with Jeonghan, you realize you don’t have an answer. Pandora’s box is too tempting, and all your better judgment tells you to leave this door closed. To bury it up, throw it into the ocean, burn it—anything to keep it away from you, but the alcohol that courses through your veins brings the memories flooding back.

Now, you aren’t sure if your head hurts from thinking about Cheol, or from the alcohol, or both.

It’s too much.

You lean against one of the steps as you sit on the stairs, clutching a bottle of water close to your chest. Jeongyeon is…she’s fuck knows where. You lost track of her hours ago—after you came back in from the backyard, you got lost in conversations with people you haven’t caught up with in ages, and one thing led to the next and now you’re on nth drink.

You feel dizzy and the cup in your hand without the water bottle slips past your fingers and before you can act quick enough, the cup is tumbling down the two steps in front of you and spilling all over the floor. Granted, it isn’t the only mess made in this house tonight, and by the looks of it, it won’t be the last, but you still feel bad, quickly scrambling up to pick up your cup and find some tissues.

As you lean forward and stumble over the steps a little, you realize your center of gravity is off and you’re about to fall forward, quickly holding out your hands to brace your fall. As you land on the ground with a thud, your mind spins—everything spins, you feel too warm, and then you feel your drink stain your pants in the spot you fell onto and—fuck, this really is too much for you.

Maybe you should’ve just accepted what Jeongyeon said. Maybe—fuck, who are you kidding—parties definitely don’t suit you. You’d be a fool to deny that now, especially when you’re aching to just leave already, even though you never made any plans of getting home.

That problem that you saved to deal with “at a later time” is becoming a problem you need to deal with now and you race through your options, all while seated on the floor, forgetting about how you need to clean up this mess.

It’s when your head starts to hurt and you scrunch up your face in hopes to soothe your headache when you hear his voice. A warm hand wrapped around your wrist and then it’s pulling you up and onto your wobbly legs. “Let’s get you out of here,” Cheol mumbles, and without weighing the consequences of your actions, you nod along.

You don’t care anymore. You need to leave, and if Cheol is the path to getting out, you won’t mind.

When his arms lead you out the front door and into the night, you feel cold. Extremely cold. Maybe it’s because your body is so warm, maybe it’s because the wet alcohol on your pants is sending shivers up your spine—maybe it’s that you’re starting to slowly realize who you’re with.

Standing on the grass, you aren’t sure what to do now. What should you do? What does Cheol want you to do—you stop yourself. It shouldn’t matter what he wants you to do, you remind yourself, so why do you find your gaze lazily making its way over to his face?

Fuck ignorance and its bliss. Right now, you want to know what Cheol is thinking. He’s looking down at you, and suddenly you feel small. His face isn’t demeaning, it’s not angry, he’s not upset, but you just feel so pathetic.

And god, do you hate that word. It echoes in your head. Your dirtied pants, flushed and puffy cheeks, disheveled hair, all as you struggle to stand up—pathetic. You turn away from him, not being able to watch him watch you any longer.

“Let me drive you home,” he says finally over the thick air.

“You’re drunk,” you protest mindlessly—you don’t have a clue if that’s true at all, but knowing Cheol, it probably is.

“I haven’t had anything all night.” Nevermind, you tell yourself, maybe you don’t know him at all. Can six months really change a person that much?

Cheol is thinking the same thing about you. Your eyes are glossy and you look so out of it and he can’t even remember the last time he saw you like this—the only memories he has are when you first got drunk with him and Yejin in high school. The memory shoots an arrow at his heart, but he brushes off the feeling, focusing on you right now.

“Trust me,” he says. You blink a few times, staring at the ground, then at the sky, and then at Cheol. “Trust me,” he repeats, and now you remember just how well you know him. Cheol isn’t asking right now, no, he’s begging. You think as deeply as your wasted mind will let you.

Do you trust Cheol? No.

Cheol hurt you. Yejin hurt you.

Is this about Yejin? No.

Do you trust Cheol? No.

What is this about? I don’t know.

Do you trust Cheol? I don’t know.

Can you trust Cheol? …

He places a hand on your shoulder and the touch is firm.

Can you trust Cheol? Of course you can.

His eyes are soft as you look up at him.

Do you trust Cheol? Absolutely.

Optimism would say that you left the door unlocked. Joshua would disagree and say that you weren’t going to be inside even if the door was wide open. Jeonghan, surprisingly, doesn’t agree with Joshua—your words were harsh, but the water streaming down your cheeks told him that there was more going on in your head than you let on.

Seungcheol tends to only listen to what he wants to hear, at least that’s what all his friends have noticed. They saw it with Yejin—ignoring all the red flags, late nights of arguing until Cheol would murmur, “it’s fine, let’s just go to sleep.” Reality wasn’t the easiest for him to face, and now it’s more apparent than ever.

“He’s too optimistic about her,” Joshua sighs, throwing himself onto his friend’s couch the morning after. He slept over at his friends’ place, and they follow carefully behind him now.

“He still has hope?” Mingyu asks incredulously, sitting on an armchair.

“Too much of it,” Joshua replies, sitting up straight so that there’s room for Jeonghan on the couch.

“She’s still nice to me,” Mingyu says thoughtfully. “Maybe she doesn’t hate him.”

“Well that doesn’t mean anything,” Jeonghan says. “She’s still close friends with Joshua, so I don’t think she’s going to let that whole situation get in the way of her own friendships.”

Joshua nods in agreement, adding, “That, and I never said she hated Cheol.”

Mingyu furrows his eyebrows. “She doesn’t?”

“I don’t think she ever did,” Joshua says honestly, leaning back into the cushions as he stretches his arms.

“Really? I would’ve,” Mingyu admits and Jeonghan rolls his eyes.

“We know that you would,” he teases, causing the taller boy to pout but keep his mouth shut. “Anyways, I think Cheol is going to keep trying.”

“I know he will,” Joshua mutters, running a hand over his face. “He’s going to go in circles after her.”

“She’s not gonna give in?” Mingyu asks, and Joshua shakes his head, but Jeonghan puts his hand up in protest.

“I think she might eventually come ‘round to a stop,” he says, and Joshua shoots him a look of surprise. “I dunno, I know you and her are close, but I just have a feeling. We’ll have to see.”

“Don’t let Cheol hear that. He’ll take it as a sign to never stop,” Joshua warns.

Seungcheol doesn’t hear this conversation now or ever, but he never had plans of stopping in the first place. He was always more optimistic than you—than anyone you knew, really—and anyone who knows him should know better than to underestimate the extent of his determination.

Jeonghan and Joshua are making that mistake right now, and even though Cheol will never know what they said, he is determined to prove them wrong, for the sake of his own sanity.

Jeongyeon picks up the phone after the first ring. “I am so sorry,” she babbles into the line. “I—fuck—we should’ve figured out a ride—I mean I should’ve figured out a ride since I basically forced you to come and I knew I would be drinking and—god, I am so sorry.”

Your head rings at the way her voice blares through the phone, and you sit up and against your headboard. You woke up only moments ago, greeted by a million texts from Jeongyeon, not bothering to soothe your hangover headache before calling her back—she must have been worried, you told yourself.

“It’s okay,” you mumble, reaching over to grab some water from your bedside table. “I got a safe ride home.”

“Yeah, Joshua told me…but still, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you to find a ride on your own.” “Don’t apologize Jeongyeon, I left you without a ride too so stop apologizing or else you’ll start to make me feel bad.”

You can hear her huff on the other end, and you smile. “Okay fine, but seriously. I’ll cover one of your shifts or something soon because I feel bad for even taking you. You looked miserable.”

“That was only because Jeonghan came up to me,” you tell her honestly.

“Jeonghan? Like Seungcheol’s friend?” she says, and you can tell from her voice that she’s hesitating to even say his name.

“Yes,” you sigh softly. Jeongyeon wants to know more, you can feel it, but you aren’t in the mood to bring it up, at least not with her. “It’s whatever. I’ll see you Wednesday?”

She pauses for a moment, seemingly trying to comprehend your quick switch of topics. “Uh, sure. Text me if you need anything, okay?”

“Mhm,” you hum, pulling back your phone as you click to hang up. Letting your head fall back onto your pillow, you inhale deeply. You remember the night before too vividly—even if you were drunk, there was too much happening for you to forget.

You know you can’t forget, so you decide to do just what you’ve been doing for the past half year: ignore. It’s what you’re best at, after all. Yet as your day goes on, your mind begins to trail off. You think, and you think, and you think until you aren’t sure what was real and what was not from last night.

You start to realize that you aren’t as good at ignoring as you like to think.

“You think too much,” Hyunwoo jokes, watching you stare at the shot of espresso in front of you. You’d made it for yourself as an attempt to feel more energized after your lecture, but you find yourself zoning out as the small cup sits on the counter, waiting for you to gulp it down.

“Uh, sorry,” you murmur, shaking your head a little. “This shift is light and we haven’t had any customers in a few minutes so I just…”

“It’s fine,” Hyunwoo replies with a smile, and you purse your lips. Ever since Joshua told you that Hyunwoo likes you, you’ve been warning yourself to tread lightly. Not that he isn’t a good guy—Hyunwoo is great—he’s just not your type.

What is your type? The thought is swept out of your mind before you even come up with an answer, swooping up the shot of espresso and holding it up to your lips.

It’s been three days since the party, and you haven’t talked to Joshua in a minute, so your mind is slightly frazzled. Hyunwoo is nice, but you miss the comfort of your close friend, and maybe you’re just a little curious to see if he has anything to say about Cheol driving you home that night.

You’re sure he does—you can already predict his words: “you told yourself you wouldn’t talk to him.” Joshua might be harsh with his words, but you feel with the way you’ve been losing your damn mind recently, you need someone like him to bring you back to reality.

Maybe that’s what went wrong with you, with Cheol, with Yejin—with the three of you. You and Cheol were too lost in fantasies, Yejin always holding you two down. She was right—Cheol wouldn’t like you. Two people who didn’t know a reality other than their imaginations couldn’t work out.

Cheol needed someone to ground himself, you needed someone to ground yourself, and at the end of the day, Yejin chose to help him. You still think about what you would have done if you were in her situation, and after months, you can’t come up with an answer.

You remember the events leading up to her decision like it’s as clear as day, and no matter how many times you replay that moment, you don’t know what to think, except that you’re angry, you’re sad—they left you.

“I heard you and Joshua,” Yejin tells you quietly, and you feel your heart stop. “You like Seungcheol?” and the way she uses his full name makes you feel almost ashamed for confirming it with a nod.

“I—” you pause, “—I didn’t know you liked him.”

“I love him,” she corrects you.

“Oh,” is all you manage out.

“You’re pathetic.”

That was the start of it. Yejin sent Chaeyoung over the next day to pick up her stuff from your apartment. You didn’t hear another word from Cheol. The last thing you remember him saying to you was from that night is still a jumble in your head.

You hate crying, and everyone knows it. So when you sprint out of the room minutes after Yejin, eyes red and puffy, Cheol knows something is wrong. Before he can walk up to you, there’s a hand on his shoulder and Yejin has her head pushed up next to his ear.

You don’t know what she tells him, but his gaze falters. The last thing you hear him say is your name quietly as you rush away.

That night, Joshua drives you home while you think about how you’re going to tell your mother that Cheol and Yejin won’t be coming to your house for spring break.

That was six months ago. Of course, six months pales in comparison to the decade you spent as friends. The years from middle school, to high school, to college—you three side by side. Things changed so quickly, too quickly.

Sometimes you think about what she might’ve told him—what she could’ve said that made him turn away at every gathering you were both at after that. That made him erase the years you shared before all this. That made you all strangers.

You figure things like this will never make sense to you. You don’t understand now, and you probably never will—you are content with that.

At least, up until three days ago you were. Some small voice in your head is reminding you of the confusion, the hurt, the heartbreak you felt when it all happened. Now, you’re more desperate than ever to know what exactly happened, it’s just a matter of if you’re willing to go down this rabbit hole of reconnection.

It’s like the universe hears you and laughs. The ringing of the door fills the little cafe and you’re pushing yourself off the counter, nodding and Hyunwoo. “I got it,” you tell him, dropping your cup in the sink and walking over to the register.

Of course it’s Cheol standing in front of you. You can’t tell if he found out your schedule from Joshua (but no, Joshua wouldn’t do that to you) or if it’s just something like fate. Fate.

You sigh, preparing yourself for yet another onslaught of thoughts. “What can I get you?”

There’s something mischievous glinting in his eyes. “Don’t you remember my usual?” Cheol attempts, and you’re surprised by his forwardness. Don’t be shocked, you think. Cheol never backs down, never stops trying.

Do you give in? Just this once? He did help you out that night—you aren’t sure if you’d be able to get home in one piece if it weren’t for him. Then again, it could’ve just been one of Cheol’s kind favors, something that isn’t reserved for only you, but just any drunk girl in general. You don’t want to mistake his qualities of a gentleman with him holding out a figurative olive branch.

Trust me, his words are like a broken record in your mind.

You’re thinking too much. Fuck, if he didn’t hold out the olive branch that night, you’re going to try to now.

“Iced latte with hazelnut syrup,” you say quietly, tapping it into the tablet. You’re scared to look up because you know he's grinning. You shouldn’t want to be the reason behind his smiles, but you do.

“Thanks,” he chirps, holding out his card so you can turn around the tablet for him.

“Your order will come out on your left,” you tell him, not looking up. You expect things to stop now, for things to quietly go back to normal.

“Hey, when do you get off?”

You do a double take to make sure you heard him correctly. “Sorry?” You finally look up at him and god, you start to remember why you loved his smile so much.

“I asked when you get off from your shift? Six?”

“I—uh, yeah,” you reply without thinking. “How’d you know?”

“That’s when Joshua gets off on Fridays. Just a guess,” he shrugs. You purse your lips and don’t respond, not sure where to take things from here; yeah you held out the branch but you didn’t expect him to grab it just this quickly. “Can I stay until then?”

You should say no. You really should say no. But then you’re thrown back to three days ago and the words are sounding an awful lot like trust me, trust me, and then you realize you just can’t deny him.

“Okay,” you say softly. You can tell from the look of relief on Cheol’s face that he wasn’t expecting this, and you aren’t sure what to take from that. As you turn to make his drink, you glance at the clock. Thirty seven minutes before your shift ends, and you can’t figure out if you’re going to try and make the time before them fly or go slow.

Handing Cheol his drink, you don’t say anything, your movements swift as you try and unbox your own feelings. Of course, you aren’t given the liberty to do that, not when Hyunwoo is standing in front of you.

“Is that Seungcheol?”

“Take a wild guess,” you mutter, closing your eyes tightly for a moment. Maybe if you think hard enough you’ll realize it’s just a dream where your actions have no real consequences.

“I thought you two didn’t talk.”

“Did Joshua tell you that?”

“Kind of…maybe…I sorta figured it out on my own,” Hyunwoo admits. “Sorry, that sounds weird.” You sigh softly, feeling bad for how flustered Hyunwoo is.

“It’s okay…let’s just get back to work,” you suggest, turning away to clean up some of the counters with your extra time.

You don’t notice it, but Cheol watches the conversation between you and Hyunwoo unfold, and while he can’t hear what you two are saying, he has a feeling he won’t like it. He has to remind himself to not have high expectations, to not get his hopes up, just like Jeonghan and Joshua warn, but he just can’t help it.

But when you agree to see him after your shift (he knows you didn’t technically agree to that, but he knows you and is sure that you caught onto his underlying message), he just has to stay hopeful. So as he patiently waits for the clock to strike six, he thinks about what to say.

To be honest, this all happened on a whim. Again, he didn’t really know that you were working today, he just happened to get lucky. Cheol himself isn’t sure what exactly he wants to say to you, he just knows it is a lot.

He thinks about you a lot. The good, the bad, all the in between—Seungcheol misses you. And he knows that it isn’t fair, that he shouldn’t do this, that he doesn’t have the right—Joshua has made that clear to him on numerous occasions.

“She’s fine without you.”

“But—”

“You don’t have a say about being in her life.”

“And you do?” Cheol shoots out.

Joshua steps back. “I don’t either, but I know how she’s doing better than you. I know how she felt after everything happened.”

Cheol pauses. That, Joshua did. Cheol didn’t know anything, did he? “This isn’t about you, it’s about me and it’s about her.”

“There is no you and her,” Joshua says bluntly. Cheol doesn’t say anything, but he knows in his mind that he needs to change that.

Cheol lets the idea run through his mind, that he's making a royal mistake right now, and all this is going to amount to nothing. He doesn’t mull over it for longer than ten seconds. He is going to do this, and if he doesn’t, he’d be damned if he didn’t at least try.

You get off your shift while Hyunwoo continues his. “You’re going to talk to him?” he asks with knitted eyebrows, pointing at Cheol.

“Uh, yeah,” you say sheepishly in the back, untying your apron. “Don’t tell Joshua, he’ll kick my ass,” you add, only only half joking. Joshua definitely won’t let you hear the end of this, but that is another problem for another time. Hanging up your apron, you grab your backpack from the shelf and slip to the back door. “See you later!” you chirp, throwing Hyunwoo one last wave before you enter the seating area from the back to make your way to Cheol who’s sitting at an elevated stool by the window.

Your once confident strides are much smaller now, you find yourself holding back each one more and more. Do you really want this? Trust me. You’ll just have to find out. “Hey,” you say quietly, and this time you don’t let your gaze fall, tapping on Cheol’s shoulder. He turns around quickly, straw in his mouth as he drinks the half finished drink with a smile.

“Hey, you’re early,” he states casually, glancing at the time. It’s 5:57.

“I guess,” you reply, voice as still as you can manage.

“You’ve probably been here for a while,” Cheol murmurs to himself, getting up from his seat. “You want to go on a walk? The weather is nice right now.”

You want to roll your eyes and tease him, saying “it’s August, of course the weather is nice,” but you stop yourself—you aren’t sure if you’re ready for that level of comfort yet. “Sure,” you agree instead, adjusting your bag over your shoulder as you follow him out the door and onto the main street.

“How was work? Stopped working at the bakery, huh?” he says, and you just don’t get it. How is he being so casual? How is he acting like this is the first time you two have had a real conversation in months? How is he—you don’t even realize you’ve stopped walking until he calls out your name. God, you really missed how it sounded when he said your name. “What’s wrong?”

You don’t even think before responding. “What do you think is wrong?” Cheol is standing a few feet in front of you and the look on his face is confusing…you can’t read it. You aren’t sure if it’s because he’s confused, or if it’s because you just aren’t used to this, or what. Whatever it is, you don’t like it.

“I’m sorry,” Cheol says softly, stepping forward. You still don’t move. “I—uh shit, sorry—this,” he brings a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, “this is weird, you’re right I just, I don’t know—”

“Is there something you want to say?” Your eyes bore into his, and Cheol knows he can’t keep any secrets from you.

“I’m sorry.”

You nod. “Okay.”

“Okay?” he asks hopefully.

“What do you want me to say?” you ask with a shrug. “Sorry for what?”

“A lot of things. Everything,” Cheol admits, and your eyes widen slightly at his honesty. You pretend to glance down at your watch.

“Well you’re going to have to be more specific,” you tell him truthfully, “and don’t have a lot of time.”

“I’ll come again!” he says quickly, holding his hands up as you’re about to walk towards your car. “When do you work? Tell me. I’ll come after every shift.”

“I work almost everyday.”

“I’ll come everyday,” he says with no hesitation. Your heart tightens. You a month ago would have said fuck no, but then trust me, trust me is echoing in your head again and before you can stop yourself, you’re nodding.

“Mondays and Tuesday I get off at 6, Wednesdays at 9, Thursdays at…”

You used to believe Seungcheol always lived up to his promises. When you were younger, you couldn’t think of a single time when he didn’t go by his word. You trusted him, always, so when he broke the promise of “we’ll stick together”—arguably the only one that actually mattered—you were shattered. You still are, or at least your trust is.

Right now, Cheol promises he’ll come see you after every shift. You don’t think you should trust him, but you do anyway, watching the clock to make sure he’s always here on time. You tell yourself you do it because you don’t like to be kept waiting, but you know deep down that you’re just trying to find an excuse.

You’re trying to justify your distrust, even though you already have a perfectly good reason for being tentative around Cheol. Somehow, whenever you’re with him, you forget about it all.

It’s awkward most of the time. Well, more like you’re awkward and Cheol just pretends you aren’t, acting all normal and like you aren’t stumbling over your words and blanking out mid sentence.

You’re not nervous, you just don’t know what to say, the words getting lost in your head as you wonder whether or not there’s a line and where it is and if you should cross it.

Today is the fifth day Cheol comes to see you after your shift. He comes in at 6:54 which is a bit earlier than usual, and it’s the first time that Joshua is seeing the scene unfold. As Cheol walks in, your friend throws you a careful glance before waving over at his friend and connecting fists as he hops over to take his order.

“Iced latte with—”

“I’m not here for a drink,” Cheol says quickly, putting his hand up before he can watch Joshus key in his usual order.

“Huh…did I miss something?” Joshua asks, checking his watch for any missed messages. You chew your lip and Cheol glances at you, realizing that you haven’t told Joshua that you and him are speaking again.

“Uh, no,” Cheol murmurs. He points at you and when he sees that you don’t protest, he proceeds. “We’re, uh, I’m just waiting for her shift to end and—” he stops talking when Joshua whips his head around to stare at you with a look of bewilderment.

You nod shyly, untying your apron as you make your way to the back room. Joshua follows quickly behind you, closing the door behind him while you hang up the garment. “What does he mean by that?”

“I dunno, Josh,” you say, because honestly you aren’t sure how to explain it either.

“Remember what you said?” he tells you—you know where this is headed, and you really don’t want him to bring it up. “You said you’d never forgive them.”

You did say that. “In a moment of anger,” you argue, grabbing your bag. You know he’s just being protective of you, but right now it’s getting on your nerves.

“And? You’re just going to forgive him because he drove you home when you were drunk?”

“I haven’t forgiven him!” you pause. “At least not yet.”

“You’re seriously going to forgive him after all that you said about moving on?”

“I have moved on, Joshua,” you tell him. It’s true. “There’s nothing wrong with letting him back in my life now, especially if he wants to.”

“And what if he fucks up again?”

You roll your eyes as you walk to the back door. “How’s that supposed to happen? Thought you said he and Yejin broke up?”

“They did, but that isn’t the point.”

“Then what is?” you ask exasperatedly. “I’m old enough to make my own decisions. You’re acting like I don’t know the consequences of my actions. You’re acting as if I wasn’t the one who had to go through all that, so please just let me make this decision.”

Joshua steps back and sighs, and by the way he doesn’t say anything as you open the door, you assume he has accepted defeat.

Cheol meets you on the other side of the door, wearing his usual smile. You can only pray that he didn’t hear your conversation with Joshua. “Hey,” he greets and you nod in response. Well if he heard anything, he pretends he doesn’t. The truth is, Cheol hears every word, he’s just very good at putting a smile on his face.

You two walk out of the store silently and side by side. “How was work?” Cheol asks.

“Good. It’s most fun with Joshua,” you reply, walking on the sidewalk like you two usually do. You follow a trail down the street and through some parks for kids, always making a round trip back to your cafe where your car is parked.

The days have been getting shorter, and it’s evident by the way the sky is painted a deep orange right now. “Didn’t sound like he’s too happy today,” Cheol comments, and you halt your steps for just a moment, realizing he did hear you two.

“Uh, yeah,” you mumble. You two haven’t talked about that since you started speaking again. All the things Cheol said he wanted to apologize for were left suspended in the air, waiting for one of you to pluck it out and face reality. Neither of you were ever really good at that. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.” 

“I’m sorry you had to say that,” Cheol responds almost instantly, standing in the middle of the sidewalk and turning to face you.

Your eyebrows furrow when you respond, “What?”

“I mean, shit, I worded that badly,” he groans, bringing a hand up to rub the back of his neck. “I’m sorry that…you know—you said you’d never forgive me and I’m sorry. And I know you probably shouldn’t forgive me but I’m sorry.”

You certainly weren’t expecting that, but then again, you need to remind yourself to never be surprised when it comes to Cheol. You bite back the words, “it’s okay,” because you aren’t ready to say that, so instead you just nod. “Okay.” Your eyes glaze around your surroundings and they fall on a bench. Pointing at it, you say, “Let’s sit, yeah?”

You two sit side by side on the bench, and you think that this is the closest either of you have been in a long time, your thighs almost brushing against each other’s. The sky darkens above you, and you usually would take this as your cue to go back to your car, but tonight, you stay.

There’s a question that’s prodding at the back of your mind, and you chide yourself for even thinking about it. Don’t ask him, don’t do it, and you almost listen. Almost. You figure that the fact that you’re even here with Cheol right now is a sign that things are changing more than they already have, that you’re changing in ways that you didn’t know you could, and Cheol is changing, and he’s changing for you.

Cheol senses it too, that you’re thinking deeply, and he waits. When you’re finally lifting your head and looking up at the sky, he turns to you as you open your mouth. “How did you guys break up?” You can’t bring yourself to say “you and Yejin.” It’s too painful of a reminder that there was once a Cheol and Yejin, and that it came at the expense of you and Cheol and Yejin.

He takes a deep breath and hesitates, but you don’t retract your question. You feel after everything, you deserve to know, no matter how aching the memory is. “She cheated on me.”

“Oh.”

Cheol’s voice is flat for the first time since you’ve started speaking again. “Yeah,” he mutters. You purse your lips together, unsure of what to do, what to say. There was a time that you felt you knew all the right words, all the right things to do, but now you’re lost. Maybe it’s because Cheol has changed, but then—no, it’s not him, it’s you. You’ve changed. You thought you didn’t care, and that was true.

You didn’t care about what happened to Cheol or Yejin or them because they had left you and there was nothing after that. You didn’t care because caring wouldn’t help you get either of them back, and you didn’t care because caring only made long nights of you crying in your bed even longer.

But did you ever stop caring about Cheol? About Yejin? There’s a fine line, you realize, between caring about your relationship with someone and caring about them, and it hits you that not once did you not care about Cheol.

What would you have done if this had happened six months ago? What would you have said? You were never the best at words, but when it came to Cheol and Yejin, you always found some way to make them feel better. Looking over at Cheol, his head hangs low as he chews on his lip.

You reach over your hand and place it on his shoulder gently. “I’m sorry,” you tell him.

Cheol chuckles hollowly, causing you to frown deeply. “Shouldn’t I be the one saying that?”

“We have time for that later,” you reply honestly, not breaking the contact even when he shifts a little, finally looking up at you.

“Later?” he asks hopefully. You smile and nod. This is a promise, you both know. Joshua is going to kill you for this later.

“He got fired?” you snort. “Didn’t he say he could get away with anything?”

“Yeah,” Cheol chuckles. “And to be fair, he did get away with a lot. Honestly, I’m surprised he didn’t get fired months ago. He would give me and Soonyoung discounts all the time, it was crazy.”

“I remember that…” you say quietly.

“Yeah, anyways, he got fired and now he’s complaining about not having extra cash. Minghao’s telling him to just find another job but Hannie is convinced that he’ll be able to convince his boss to hire him back…”

“Knowing Jeonghan, he might just be able to pull that off.”

“Who knows,” Cheol murmurs with a shrug. “It’s late. Do you want to go?”

“Want me gone already?” you tease. Things are more comfortable now. It isn’t the same as before—how could it—but it’s getting there. You aren’t sure you’ll ever be “back to the old days,” but you sure are trying to get as close as you can.

“You know that isn’t true,” he shoots back. You trust him, and if that’s a mistake, you hardly care. Maybe this is where you start to crumble. “I’m just trying to make sure that it’s not too late when you get home.”

He’s being caring, although it isn’t unexpected. Cheol was always caring. “You’re right,” you murmur, not wanting to admit that you might have wanted to sit here and talk to him a bit longer. You stand up, grabbing your back and he follows after you as you walk up the street in the direction of the shop. You return back to the conversation of Jeonghan and his antics both in and out of the workplace, and before you know it, you’re back at the parking lot.

You’ve grown to look forward to these meetings—how could you not—and it does kill a little bit of self control inside of you every time you realize that fact.

“You gonna go now?” he asks softly, and as you stop walking, you let the tension grow thick. This part is always awkward. You don’t know if it’s fitting to say “bye” or “goodbye” or “see you later” or hug him or wave or—you usually settle for a smile but there’s a growing ache in your heart which tells you that maybe you want more.

Cheol seems to think the same, and it all happens so quickly, too quickly, and suddenly you’re going dizzy and your world is spinning.

Choi Seungcheol’s lips are soft.

And they don’t press against yours for more than a second before you place your hands on his chest and push him back. You almost indulge. Almost.

“Why would you do that?” you whisper, not meeting his gaze. Cheol runs a hand through his hair, steeping back with wide eyes.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Fuck, I am so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking—shit, shit, shit—I’m sorry, I’m so sor—”

You ball your fists and your face contorts into some ugly sort of grimace. “Stop saying that!” you cry out, and Cheol stills. “Stop fucking saying you’re sorry! I-I-I hate it!”

“What?” and the hurt is more than evident in his voice.

“I know you’re sorry, okay? I get it,” you tell him exasperatedly. “And you keep saying it—you’re sorry for everything, you’re sorry for all of it. It’s all you say, but maybe if you just stopped and thought for a second you’d realize that no matter how much you keep saying it, I have not once said it’s okay.”

He gapes at you for a moment but recovers quickly, running a hand through his hair. “I—” he pauses, “I don’t know how else to tell you. It’s been a few weeks and—”

“You didn’t speak to me for six months,” you spit out, and you wonder if this is what it’s all going to come down to. The past month of you figuring out your emotions, working out what you want, what’s good for you, what’s not—you’re afraid that right now it will all amount to nothing.

Maybe you two were in your heads too long. Maybe this was your harsh pull back down to the ground.

“Six months, Seungcheol,” you repeat, and he winces when you use his full name.

“I know, I’m s—”

“You’re sorry, I know,” you say quieter this time, slumping against the wall. His lips were so warm, so soft, you still feel their ghost on your lips. You calm down for a second at the thought, but then your anger bubbles up when you remind yourself that Yejin got to taste him too. Got to have him, love him, cherish him for those six months. Jealousy doesn’t suit you, but that isn’t what this is about anyways. Right now, all it does is fuel your heat.

“I just—I don’t know how to really say it,” Cheol admits.

“Well you should figure that out,” you tell him harshly. “I can’t stand here forever, waiting for you to find the right words.”

“You’re right, I know.”

“Do you?” you ask, exhausted. It’s all catching up to you know—you’re tired, so tired.

“I do.”

Do you trust Cheol?

“I don’t believe you,” your voice quivers when you say it, and Cheol feels his heart break at the sound. “I can’t.”

“I know—that’s my fault, I know.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

“I’m trying.” You know he is, there isn’t a doubt in your mind. Inhaling deeply, you choose your words carefully.

“We need to talk about everything,” you tell him slowly.

“Okay,” Cheol agrees quickly. “Okay, where do you want to start?”

“Where do you think we should start? I think that’s where we should start.”

Cheol sucks in a breath and pinches his eyebrows together. You can tell that he, just like you, is making sure he doesn’t say anything he’ll regret. “Well, the beginning, I guess,” he sighs, and you open your mouth in protest but he holds his hand out to stop you. “Okay just listen.” “Fine.”

“I found out Yejin liked me in January,” he tells you.

“That was a month before…” your voice trails off and he nods.

“Before we got together and…” And we stopped talking to you. He doesn’t say, doesn’t need to. “Yeah. Chaeyoung told me. Yejin didn’t know I knew until…”

“Until you started liking her,” you mutter under your breath. You furrow your eyebrows and look up at him. “You know I know this, right? Joshua told me when you told him.”

Cheol seems surprised by that. “What, really?” you aren’t sure why he never expected that—you and Joshua are pretty much like siblings, after all.

“Yeah. I think I knew before Yejin,” you admit. Your voice is small, and the way the entire event of six months ago is playing out in your head is a not so nice reminder of why you’re in this situation in the first place.

“Oh.” Silence. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

You frown. “What was I supposed to say? ‘No Cheol! Don’t like Yejin! Like me!’” you say in a mocking tone. “Why would I do that to her? Why would I do that to you?” you were calm a moment ago, but you feel yourself growing upset again.

“I thought you—” Cheol thinks for a moment, wondering if he should say it, “—I thought you liked me.”

“I did,” you seethe out. “But did you think I was going to beg you to change your mind? To change your feelings?” Cheol is quiet now, and you take it as your cue to continue. “I…I cared about you and Yejin so much—” that’s a lie (you still do)—“and you should know that if you guys were happy I would be okay with that.”

“What about your feelings? Why didn’t you do anything about that?” Cheol shoots back, and it’s starting to sound an awful lot like your last conversation with Yejin.

“You claim you love him but you’re just willing to give him up like that? That’s pathetic. You are pathetic.”

You feel tears stream down your cheeks at the memory and you need to remind yourself that it isn’t worth crying over—but then again, it is. “I would’ve dealt with my feelings just as I have been for the past six months—by myself and totally fine.”

Cheol doesn’t have a response to that, because if there’s one thing he won’t even attempt to refute, it’s this. Because after everything, you have been okay. You have been healing. It killed him every time Joshua would tell him you’re doing fine, because he wasn’t doing fine and he was having a really, really hard time accepting that.

He knows it’s unfair, Cheol knows he’s being anything but fair, but he just doesn’t know how to help it.

It’s the worst that you’re crying now—crying ‘cause of him. Because Cheol knows that you were okay and it was him that decided to butt back in your life to try and make amends, and you being you, decided to let him back in and fuck—he knows he’s being selfish by doing all this and he know he doesn’t deserve this yet you are still here, trying to hear him out.

“I fucked up, I don’t deserve a second chance.”

You choke back a sob, “Damn right you don’t,” and Cheol knows that you’re right.

“I’m still going to try.”

You brush some tears away from your face. “I know.”

You go home that night without another word, and Cheol only stops you to make sure you’ve stopped crying before you start the car and drive off. It’s the next day, and you can’t help but glance back and forth between the door and clock as your shift nears its end.

“You waiting for him?” Hyunwoo asks you from the side, and you feel a little bit bad at the way his voice sounds a bit sad.

“Uh—” Are you waiting for Cheol? “—I guess, yeah.” There’s no reason for you to deny it. You’ve replayed last night’s conversation more times than you can count, and you still aren’t sure how to feel. You need to see him.

As the time nears six, an uneasy feeling pools at your stomach, and you wonder what you’ll do if he doesn’t show up. End it for good? Add it to the list of reasons why you should never talk to him again? Block h—

The bell above the door ringing saves you from that rabbit hole. It’s 5:59 and Cheol waits in front of the door and for once, he isn’t donning a smile. Looking at Hyunwoo, you throw out a small wave before slipping to the back room. Hyunwoo doesn’t follow you, he stopped doing that after the first two times Seungcheol started coming, although you aren’t sure why. It’s a passing thought though, definitely not at the forefront of your mind as you hang your apron routinely and exit through the back door.

Cheol waits for you by the door and you don’t say anything as you both leave through the front. The atmosphere is thick and you aren’t sure who is going to say what and when. It’s only when you’ve walked around two minutes down your regular path that Cheol stops in front of that bench. Flickering his eyes towards yours for a moment of confirmation, he sits down and motions you to follow. You sit side by side and once again, you two are almost touching, but aren’t quite there just yet.

“So,” you finally say. “Where were we?”

“That night,” Cheol replies quietly, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. You glance over at him and can’t help but realize how…small he looks. You want to reach out and hold him for a moment, but you shouldn’t.

“What about that night?” you murmur. There’s too much about that night for you to even fathom what he’s thinking about.

“What did Yejin say to you? In the room?” he asks.

“Does that matter?” You seriously don't want to recount it, but then Cheol is nodding and you just have to give in. “She was mad…same reason as you,” you mumble.

“What do you mean?”

“Didn’t like how I was accepting of it all,” you sigh, leaning back. “I think she just got sick of me,” you finally confess. “Didn’t like me anymore, and then she thought I was pathetic or something and used that as an excuse to just—I dunno, drop me.” You pause, turning to look at him again. “What did she tell you?”

You know you probably shouldn’t ask. It’ll be painful, you know, but you’re confident you can handle it.

“She said it couldn’t work…the three of us. That it was either me ‘n’ her or nothing, because nothing could go back to normal after this.”

You look down. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“You believed her?”

“Well, at the time,” Cheol murmurs, “Yeah I did.”

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry.” Trust me, trust me. “I liked that she liked me. I liked her and I thought I was going to lose you either way and—”

“I said okay.”

“Is it okay?”

“I don’t know,” you tell him honestly. “I beat myself up a lot for all that, you know? Wondered what she could’ve said that made you not wanna fight to be my friend.” You scoff to yourself. “I guess we both suck at that.”

“Huh?”

“You know: fighting for what we want,” you clarify.

“That can change,” Cheol says, clearing his throat. “I’m fighting right now.”

That conversation is the first of many. One month later and Cheol is still fighting. It’s your birthday, and you aren’t surprised that he remembers, but you are surprised when he gets you a gift. A new apron. “Your old one is getting…well, old.”

You’re both sitting at the bench once again, and for the first time, your thighs brush against each other’s fully. It’s warm, it’s welcoming, it’s soft. Maybe you and Cheol haven’t finished crossing the bridge yet, but you’ve definitely finished building it. There’s time for the rest later. You want to focus on you and him now.

“I wonder why,” you say sarcastically, taking it out of the bag. “It’s cute—hey, is this my name?” you ask excitedly, holding up the little spot on the top with some letter embroidered in.

“Uh, yeah, it’s custom and all…I got Minghao to help me with the design.” You smile genuinely, turning to him.

“Thank you, I love it.”

“Thank god. Jeonghan said it was a stupid gift but I thought it was thoughtful…”

“Jeonghan once got you a rubber duck for your birthday, so I would take everything he says about gift-giving with a big fat grain of salt.”

“Hey, I still have that duck,” he tells you, and you both laugh together. “It’s in the bathroom, I only take it down for special occasions.”

“Special occasions being…?”

Cheol taps his chin. “Hmm…birthdays, the last day of school, Christmas…I’d like to think my luck is pretty great whenever I use it.”

“Is that so…” you hum. “When was the last time you used it?”

“Like two days ago.”

“Nothing special happened two days ago.” That’s a lie, and he sees right through it.

Cheol smiles smugly. “I know. It was just right before I came to see you.” Your cheeks burn as you turn away.

Two days ago being the last time you and him talked about all of it. From beginning to end, just like you had so many times before except for the first time, you were finally able to utter the words, “it’s okay, we’re okay.”

“Right…maybe luck really was on your side then,” you tease.

“Whatever,” Cheol says with a pout, watching you glance at your phone. “Do you need to go? I thought you didn’t have anything planned?”

“I don’t,” you say with a huff. “I just saw that my birthday gift from my parents got delivered. It’s fine, I’ll pick it up when I get home later.” You ponder whether this is the right moment to bring it up. “You can… come along if you want.”

It’s almost as if his ears perk up. “To your place?”

“Um, yeah,” you try to come off as casual. “Only if you want,” you add quickly, and he picks up on the double meaning right away.

Which is how you end up here.

“Haven’t been here in so long,” Cheol murmurs, looking over your apartment. It’s the exact same, save for some pictures with Yejin and him that have since been taken down. He would have been upset about it a month ago, but now he is content. It only makes it a goal for him to take more pictures with you now so you’ll have some to put up.

“Mhm,” you nod, putting your bag down on your kitchen counter.

“Hey…” he says softly as you flick on one light. It’s dim, but there’s just enough light for you to see the worried look on his face.

“Everything alright?”

He chews on his lips and he looks pretty. “I need to know where your head is at right now,” he admits. There’s a lot of different meanings to what he’s just asked, but with the way he’s looking at you, you have a pretty good idea of what he’s trying to say. “I don’t want to misread anything like the last time I—the last time.” The last time he kissed you.

You look down at the counter. You brought him here for a reason, but are you ready?

Trust me, trust me.

Of course you are. With Cheol, you’ll always be ready.

So when he’s pushing you up against the wall, hands grappling at your waist, feeling his warm, wet lips against you, you don’t waste a single second thinking about anyone else. You don’t think about what Joshua will say, you don’t think about how Jeongyeon will react, you don’t think about the look on Yejin’s face if she were to ever find out about this because right now, it’s Cheol that’s in front of you, and it’s Cheol that will always be in front of you.

One leg around his torso, your mouth smashes against his in a tangled mess of tongue and lip and it’s desperate and has you aching for more. And then he’s leading you to your bedroom and you are reminded of the fact that Cheol knows this place so well that he doesn’t even need to ask for directions.

Throwing you onto the bed your mind goes blank—it’s as if all the happiness in the world rushes to you at once, leaving you all light-headed and disoriented when Cheol clambers on top of you, his thigh wedged between your legs.

With his fingers pressed deeply into your hips as he runs his tongue along your jawline,rocking  your clothed cunt against Cheol’s bare thigh, his gym shorts hiked up so that you can press your core as close to him as possible. Your breath is slightly labored as his lips press open mouthed kisses all the way down, and you feel yourself become increasingly needy at the way you can see the imprint of his cock against his shorts.

“Shit—you’re so—wait,” he murmurs, pulling his lips away from your burning skin to bore his eyes down at you. “Is this okay?” he asks softly, pulling his knee back so there’s some space between you and him. Cheol doesn’t expect for your eyes to widen, hand shooting out and grabbing his thigh to make sure it doesn’t move another inch.

“Yes,” you gasp out, pulling his leg so hard that he stumbles forward a bit when you do, the hard muscle pressing back against your core. Cheol lets the initial shock of you being needy for him settle in, and suddenly he’s grinning and having one hand back at your waist, the other at your neck so he can tilt your head up and have better access to skin over your collarbone.

His fingers are rough and calloused as they slip beneath your shirt, pushing it up just far enough that your bra is exposed. Hovering above you, you watch through hazy vision as Cheol’s eyes dilate at the sight, swooping his head down to free one of your tits from the cup and catching a nipple in his mouth.

Your body jerks against his as he swipes a tongue over the hardened peak, and suddenly you feel that there’s too much fabric between you and his thigh. “Ch-cheol,” you mutter, tapping at his head that is currently burning beneath your shirt while he sneaks kisses all up and down your stomach, between your tits, and over your cleavage.

“What is it, baby?” he coos, pulling his head out and looking up at you, the pet name shooting shivers up our spine.

“Pants—ah—” you whine when he presses his thigh harder into you. “Pants!” you cry, trying your best to unbutton them with shaky fingers. Cheol picks up right away, helping you unzip them before hooking two fingers on the waistband and yanking the fabric down and over your feet, freeing yourself and your pussy of its unbearable restraints.

“Fuck, this is—you’re so hot,” he murmurs, looking down at your bare legs and tracing his fingers from your ankles to your knees, and then finally through your inner thighs where he bends down and starts to place rough kisses.

Usually, if he was in his right mind, Cheol would have wanted to take his sweet time with you, unraveling, unwinding all of you. But he’s figured that both of you have waited long enough and that you both deserve to be needy, to be desperate, to let this moment pass as quickly as it started because there will be plenty of time for a round two and three later on.

All you need right now is to feel each other, which is how he ends up pushing your panties to the side and digging his tongue into your dripping folds without warning. “Cheol!” you moan loudly, your hand gripping his hair tightly while he simultaneously wraps one arm over your hips, pulling you closer.

Seungcheol is going crazy, he thinks, because the taste of your pussy is better than any alcohol he’s ever drunk. You’re sweet and your cunt is literally fluttering its pretty fuck folds all for him as he slides one finger through them to collect your growing wetness. He feels himself growing high on the feeling and taste alone, his own hips pressing into the mattress in hopes of relieving some of the tension in his own pants.

There’s a slobbering mess that runs down his lips and chin as he fervently makes out with your pussy, and you briefly wonder how a man can be so good at making you feel this good before the thought is swept from your mind by one of Cheol’s thick fingers prodding at your entrance.

Holy hell, you’re so tight for him—gummy walls clamping down on his single digit the second he started to move it in and out’ta you, his mind racing as he thinks about how you might feel around his cock. And Cheol isn’t the only one thinking about it either, because when he’s slipping in another finger, you’re already crying out for more.

“I gotta work you up to it baby,” he tells you sympathetically, using one free hand to shove down his pants leaving him in only a shirt and boxers.

“Don’t wanna wait…” you protest with a pout, eyes shamelessly looking down at his figure hunched over you so you can catch sight of the imprint of his cock against his boxers.

Cheol chuckles, even though he’s on the brink of giving in himself. “Take your shirt off for me, yeah? It’ll save us some time.” That’s all you need to hear before you’re sitting up and yanking the stupidly tight shirt over your head and throwing it to the side as Cheol’s fingers continue their onslaught deep inside your cunt.

It’s less of an in and out motion now, and more of a curling motion that’s exploring you, finding out what makes you hum, what makes you moan, and what makes you go—“Oh fuck, Cheol!” He grins at the sound, leaning down to press a kiss on your clit as he pulls his slick fingers away.

“You wanted more?” he murmurs, slipping his own shirt over his head to reveal the familiar set of abs and toned chest. You let out a dazed smile at the sight, letting your body fall back onto the mattress.

“‘course I do,” you reply without hesitation, watching eagerly as his hand holds the waistband of his boxers and pushes the cloth down, revealing his cock all thick and hard as it springs out and hits his abdomen.

It’s long and it’s thick, and it’s nothing less than what you expected from Cheol, in fact, it’s a lot more than that. But you don’t even have time to think about how pretty his cock looks, pink tip all flushed as a thick vein runs down the side of its length, because it’s pushing against your entrance as he watches your face carefully.

When your eyebrows knit into a convulsion of pleasure and you squeak out his full name, he knows he can't hold back, slamming into your drooling cunt in one go.

And his cock is so big it’s pushing you open, but the pain is so good, so enthralling, that you don’t even mind being split in half if it’s like this—if it’s because every time he pulls his hips back, you know he’ll slam it deeper and deeper every single time, hitting spots deep inside of your cunt that you didn’t even know existed.

All while your limbs are flailing around him, thrashing as you bite into his shoulder, muffling your cries of, “Cheol, Cheol, Cheol!”

Your name falls from his lips too, mixed in with the mindless words of, beautiful, pretty, princess as he compliments you for takin’ him so well and squeezin’ him so good he doesn't know how he hasn’t bust already.

“God, fuck,” he moans when you look up at him through heavy lashes, tethering his boto m lip between his teeth to try and slow his impending orgasm. “Fuck,” he chokes out, “shit—I love you—”

And there is your breaking point. Like the world has come to a stop and there is only you and Cheol and this moment and—god, you really are too far gone now—and him and you is all that matters.

You cum like you never have before, his cock battering your cunt ‘til you’re shaking and crying and yelling out his name as you feel nothing but him, think nothing but him, know nothing but him.

This is the moment you’ve both been waiting for, and as soon as Cheol has noticed your slower breaths he’s pulling out and letting you wrap one hand around his fat cock to help jerk himself off. He’s so close—so fucking close—and then you’re whispering those fated words—those three words—he feels everything in him just snap, hot cum shooting all over your swollen, abused cunt, and Cheol feels his heart swell.

Love.

There’s a lot more you need to work on, you both know that, but it’s okay.

Trust me, trust me.

I love you.

a/n. literally wrote the last part half asleep and i hate the ending but... okay wow … i had a tough time writing this because i really wanted it to be taken slow and i’m not really sure how well it went … also this story might have been a bit a lot of a reflection of a friendship that went wrong in my own life LOL so this might be me playing out how i wish things ended up :/so anyways please sharing ur thoughts and like and reblog!

[edgeray]

Ray! 🍅 anon here, I said I wasn't going to request but there's one idea I've been really, REALLY itching at.

So you know how you reblogged "cold nights" by beiibeii? Yeah about that... I think I cooked an angst idea of this on a related tangent? (If you choose to write this, ofc)

How about Mother!Reader who is faced with the same scenario of Arle neglecting them to the point that she loses hope in their relationship? Think of the angst when the children constantly remind their Father of important dates but she's away or somehow missing most of them because of work. To the point reader just implies for them to stop trying and accepts the fact that they married Arlecchino but is now simply the Knave's wife? Like even the children can see them losing hope which is why they sometimes lowkey plead with their Father to actually pay more attention to Mother. Mother marrying Father means that Mother is strong but behind their strong facade you can see their sadness! You can feel their loneliness! And their sense of isolation and sorrowful acceptance of their new reality. And Arle does not pick up on the subtle signs until it's Too Late. Like. Reader in the coffin Late.

And as the Knave's wife Reader does need to undertake missions like in "I am Fine in Your Arms" but because reader has lost so much hope in living a wife outside of being the Knave's wife, reader does not make an effort to return alive. The angst of the burial, maybe the children blaming their Father etc. The really young ones aside, I don't think they would be actively angry with their Father, just very, VERY, disappointed. HotH would lose its warmth for a while before Lyney, Lynette and Freminet try their best to build it back (but of course, it never becomes as warm as it used to be)

Whether or not you choose to give this one a happy ending is up to you, but on my end the only happy ending that I cooked up for them is that Arle wakes up in the next Samsara with all these memories of losing Reader and prevents the relationship from going South in the first place. (Bonus points if Reader also has the memories and compares it to how they were treated by Arle previously, makes a comparison, and goes "How I wish this were my Arle" without knowing that it actually IS their Arle, just acknowledging she fucked up BIG time and is now making heavy amends for it. and Arle Knows because of that look that Reader gives her, sorrow and joy in a complex blend.)

...I think by now you can tell that I'm an angst writer too HAHSHHSHA Nobody leaves my fics without getting a knife and I promise it's just for the plot (like we always say).

I've still been keeping up with your writings (Beauty and The Beast actually fits, holy-) (Someone send Siren!Arle a whole farmhouse of ham for her consumption please) and yes I agree that you've been pumping out bangers after bangers. (I mean. Given that, you probably can afford to be a little indulgent? If writing this much quality about your muse doesn't give you the OK to put your hands all over them, abs and all, what does?)

As always, prioritise your sanity and schedule first, stay well rested and hydrated!

Lost Warmth

(Arlecchino x GN! Reader)

A/N -  Link to my momma's (@beiibeiii) piece right here. If I see you read this before reading the masterpiece I just linked, know that I am a very disappointed axolotl. 😔  Anyways, you might be able to tell just how long this has been sitting in my inbox… haha… my bad guys. T^T. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to write more angst. :3 And thank you for the additional comments 🍅 anon. I do have quite a soft spot for siren! arle, seeing that she was my first request (and requested from my momma :3). Wanted this to be a little longer, but I do have to wake up earlier tomorrow, so this is what you get T^T. Hopefully it's still good. Content warnings / info - angst, character death (duh), reader is referred to as ‘Mother’ but is otherwise GN!, 1.4k words

Cold is a feeling you've long gotten used to. Cold is your husband's dismissal of your existence, with every interaction ending with her blunt words and back towards you, leaving you with a crumbling heart. Cold are the long nights as you anxiously wait for Arlecchino's appearance for a candlelit dinner you spent half the day preparing, only for her never to return until you fell to exhaustion on the couch, a flower bouquet that remains unreceived in your hands. Cold is the creeping loneliness in the late hours of the night, when you've finally grown tired of anticipating someone that will never come, and returned to bed alone. Cold is the way you shiver underneath the thickest of blankets, no one's body warmth to sink into, no one's softly whispered words into your ear to drift you to sleep. Cold is when instead of your husband, only dim stars, a bottle of liquor, and the tears that stream your face join you in bed.

When was the last time you had felt warmth? 

You recall when the Knave first started courting you, how gentlemanly she was for such a rumored cruel Harbinger. You were first just a caretaker of the House of the Hearth, this small orphanage which you quickly found to be home for you. You couldn't help but adore the endearing children, watching as you slowly became a staple in this family. Despite your best efforts of hiding it, Arlecchino noticed when you snuck in the occasional pastry or cake from the town's most lavious bakery for the children, out of your own paycheck as well. It was then, your husband admitted, when she first fell for you. It had taken her months of encouragement from her ‘pestering’ children before she asked you out, and it was impossible to not fall for her charm.

How could you not? Not when she held you like you were her world. Not when she viewed you higher than the Tsaritsa herself. Not when her touch was heavenly, her words silky and sweet. When she proposed to you, your heart leapt with levity, and you thought your life was perfect now. A warm house, fitted with warm parents, that was what you had had, you had never felt so content. 

Then came the long nights. Nights when she trudged home later than usual, where she fell asleep without a word but sunk into your arms still. Then she started forgetting, forgetting about the dates and birthdays, and anniversaries more and more. At first, you chalked it up to her demanding Harbinger duties, but as time grew and the excuses started to run out, the perfect life you knew was crumbling. 

You became aware of this two years after your marriage when you had been preparing dinner for the two of you once she arrived home, slow cooking a steak since the early hours of the morning. Just as you exited the kitchen, you heard some children surrounding your husband before she left for another Harbinger meeting, telling her that you had a surprise for her once she came home and how excited you were for her to enjoy a new recipe you created. Your heart swelled with hope and appreciation for your children, especially when Arlecchino promised she would return in time. 

You should have known better.

You ate your tear-ridden steak alone and went to bed, leaving the steak out for her for whenever she returned home. Just like how you fell asleep, you woke up without your husband's presence, and when you arrived at the kitchen, the meat and the note besides the plate were untouched. 

You tried to eat the cold steak for lunch as well. You threw it away at the first bite. That day, you gathered your children, pleading them not to ‘pester’ Father with more reminders, as she was very busy. All that you gained back from the children was pitied expressions, and the agony in your chest worsened. Your children could pity you, but your husband couldn't? Even with your husband's coldness, you still carried out your Mother role, if only for the children. You cannot deny that the children's antics helped you forget the ever-present void inside you, caused by Arlecchino. 

You never learned the reason for Arlecchino's behavior, why she had grown so cold towards you. Now, you suppose, you would never know.  

Red fills your hazy vision as you lay on the ground, your entire body aching and fatigued, desperate gasps for air while your heart pounds in your eardrums. Your side was sliced, and the crimson liquid quickly poured out of the wound while you tried to stop the bleeding, but to no avail. 

This is your end, you think to yourself as you weakly turn on your side, every nerve in your body protesting against the movement. Your bloodied hand comes into view, your engagement and wedding ring gleaming slightly underneath the blood. The rings bring your thoughts to Arlecchino–oh, how you imagine the common disappointment in her otherwise apathetic expression, disappointment at your mission's failure. Your eyes bubbled and blurred with tears, vivid memories of your wedding flashing through your mind. The wedding ring is beautiful, still polished with that bold scarlet, the same color of her eyes, the same eyes you could never stop drowning in.

Would she even know your absence? Would she ever acknowledge you, treat you properly like her partner even if you did return? You doubt it. Did you want to return a cold bed, to a husband that does not love you, to a house no longer warm? 

It's warm. 

Your body feels like fire courses through your veins as you feel inexplicably hot, yet it's a welcomed heat. It's the first time you've felt this, but it feels familiar, comforting, like a hearth, and you want nothing more than to surrender to it. It soothes your heartbeat and calms your breath, easing your body as if you were to sink into the most plush of beds, swallowed by the thickest of blankets. The warmth coils around you, wrapping you like a cozy embrace, evoking you to sleep. Your eyes flutter shutter, a faint smile plastered on your lips.

It feels just like Peruere's arms. 

— 

Arlecchino receives a letter addressed to her on the third day you've been sent on a mission. The contents make her drop the paper, and she rushes outside, without an additional word, leaving the House. 

The children do not see her until she returns late into the night, a body wrapped in cloth in her arms. Arlecchino raised her children to be smart, to be attentive, to be logical. Whose body it is, they realize with little difficulty. 

The children weep that night. Arlecchino does not. How can she, when her source of emotions is gone? 

The burial takes place soon afterwards. As your body is placed into the ground, Arlecchino can feel the weight of her children's stare on her back. The charged tension between her and the children is palpable without words. She cannot discern which of the two reactions cut deeper. The seething fury underneath the oppressive grief for the young ones, having to lose another parent, or the crushing dismay inhabited by the older ones, specifically the twins and Freminet. 

Their thoughts are clear, even when none of them speak out loud. 

How could you fail Mother?

The House of the Hearth no longer suits the orphanage's name, not with your missing presence. There is no warmth, no matter how much the trio tries to fuel a lost flame. Even with Arlecchin's pyro vision, it is futile.

Arlecchino stands before your gravestone, a bouquet of your favorite flowers in her hand, and she rests it beside the other bouquets by your grave. Six bouquets in total, for each day after your burial. 

“For all the flowers, I should have given you, my love,” she whispers as she addresses you, glancing up to the heavens. The last two words make her feel like a fraud, undeserving of calling you hers, when she had clearly never shown so. 

Arlecchino, the Knave, the Fatui Harbinger, does not plead, does not beg, does not kneel. However, her knees drop to her dirt, and she grovels. “Please… wait for me one more time, my dear. Once I meet you again, I promise I'll never leave you alone, I'll never let you out of my arms again.”

There is no reply. 

Arlecchino feels cold. 

[cozage]

Hello! First of all, I love your writing and your content. Can I ask for HC on Law saying to their romantic interest something like: "If you don't like how we run things here, then leave" after a heated discussion which actually makes them leave the crew, and after Law goes to great extents to amend that, Angst to comfort.

e

A/N: Hi friend! This was a fun prompt and ive been working on it for a while! Thanks for your patience! (It’s not completely proofread, so I apologize for any mistakes. I may go back and edit it better later, but i wanted to get this out for you and everyone today!)

Characters: Law x gn reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Leaving

“If you don’t like how I run things, then leave,” Law spat out, turning back to the papers at his desk. “I don’t have time for you questioning my decisions.”

You stood there for a moment, dumbfounded at his words and their harshness. 

“Law-” you start.

“Leave!” He snapped, not even looking up from his work.

You turned on your heel and rushed out the door, covering your face to hide your tears. You ran to the Captain’s Quarters and threw the few belongings you had into a duffel bag, slung it over your shoulder, and left the room. You didn’t want to say goodbye to your crewmates or this life, but you had heard Law’s message loud and clear. Leave. You were no longer welcome here. 

You passed by the kitchen and hang out area, and you popped your tear-stained face in the room, trying your best to act casual. 

“Uhm-” you started to speak, but the moment that eyes turned, you burst out into tears again. 

“I came to say goodbye,” you sobbed as Shachi and Penguin rushed to you. 

“What happened?” the two of them demanded, holding you in a tight hug. 

“I was told to leave, so-” you hiccuped into Shachi’s shoulder, and pulled away from the two men. “I just didn’t want to leave without-”

“You’re not leaving,” Penguin said, looking past you to the hallway. 

“I am,” you replied, wiping your tears off your face, trying to compose yourself. “I have to.”

“You can’t!” Shachi cried, tears springing from his own eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you said, tears welling up again. You loved these people. They were your family. They were all you knew for the past few years. 

But you couldn’t live like this with Law anymore. This constant back and forth, his refusal to commit to you and his mood switches between fiery hot passion and icy cold shoulders. The way he would coo promises in your ear while you laid pressed against his chest one moment, just for him to spend the whole day without acknowledging your existence. You were going insane, and you simply couldn’t handle it anymore. 

“I love you guys,” you said, pulling away from them and heading for the door. “I’ll call when I get situated, okay?”

“Situated where?” Penguin asked. “Just stay, we’ll get the captain to reverse his decision. Please-”

“No,” you said, with painful finality. “He made his decision, Penguin. I have to go.”

And with that you climbed up the ladder and walked out the door. You jumped off the deck and onto the dock of a foreign island you knew nothing about, trying to think of your next move. You desperately wanted to look back one last time, in hopes that Law would be there, watching you go. But you resisted the urge to turn around, and you walked boldly into the village to find a new adventure, hoping the hole in your heart would heal with time. 

--

The sounds of shoes running down the hallway alerted Law that something was wrong. Then several bangs on the door. 

“Captain!!!” several voices called out, and Law quickly opened the door.

“What?” he asked, looking at their panicked faces. “What is it?”

“What did you do to Y/N?!” Shachi demanded, tears in his eyes. 

Law’s eye twitched and he grinded his teeth. “What happened is none of your business!” he shouted, slamming the door in their face. 

“Captain!!” they all cried. “Please change your mind!”

“Room,” Law said, creating a blue bubble that only encapsulated himself. “Silence,” he said, cutting off sound to the outside world. One of the many tools he had taken from Corazon. 

Law wasn’t sure how long the crew continued to bang and yell at his door, but he didn’t really care. The issue between you and him should be solved between the two of you, the rest of the crew didn’t need to be involved. 

By the time he went to bed, the crew had thankfully dispersed. He was irritated with you causing such a scene amongst your crewmates, but he would talk to you about it later. He walked to his room, and was surprised to find that the light was off. Normally you went to bed far before him, but you always left some kind of light on for him to find his way to the bed with you. He was even more surprised to find the bed completely empty and cold. There was no trace of you or your belongings in his room. 

“Y/N is gone,” said a broken voice from behind him. Bepo. 

Law turned to face the bear, confused by his statement. 

“Y/N said you told them to leave. So they left,” Bepo explained. 

“No-” Law said, looking around. “I didn’t mean to leave the ship. I just meant-”

“You always do this, captain. You always push people away when they only want to love you.”

“I don’t need a lecture, Bepo,” Law hissed. He was starting to panic now, he couldn’t lose you. You were one of the few people he trusted and let get close to him, he…

“Go. Y/N is on the island somewhere. Make it right.” 

Law could hear Bepo’s voice getting thick with tears. He knew the bear was trying to be brave, but he didn’t care at the moment. He took off down the maze of hallways and climbed up the ladder to the deck. He scanned the shoreline, looking for your frame. He prayed that it would just be a simple outburst you were throwing, a show of defiance you were putting on until he came and apologized and made it right. But you were nowhere to be found. 

He jumped off the deck and onto the dock, racing towards town. He was racking his brain on where you would have gone. You had no family or friends here. What were you thinking, going off alone with no support system? Was your plan just to abandon him and leave him alone again? The thought of never seeing you again made him sick to his stomach. 

He couldn’t lose you. Not after all you all had been through. It wasn’t fair. He was angry at you and at the world, but he was mostly angry at himself. He had been selfish, and he had put himself in this position because of it. He had to amend that. He had to make it right. 

He finally found you, sitting alone at a ramen shop. He stood in the crowded street and watched you for a moment, admiring the way you looked under the soft glow of the shop lights. 

You looked tired, but you were as beautiful as ever. You were talking quietly to the man next to you; he must’ve said something to make you laugh, because your eyes lit up and your voice rang out. Law couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy at seeing some stranger bring you joy, and he resisted the urge to run to you. 

“Do you come here often?” Law heard the man ask you. “I wouldn’t mind doing this again.”

Law saw you hesitate for a moment, weighing your options. “I actually just got here,” you finally said.

“Oh?” the man questioned, looking around. “Need a place to stay while you get settled in?”

Law’s blood boiled. He knew what the man was implying, and he needed to put an end to it. He started toward you, but before he could make it, you spoke. 

“That’s kind of you,” you started, your eyes darting around the restaurant nervously. “But I have a place at the moment.”

“I see,” said the man, looking a little dejected. “Well, I had fun tonight, and I hope to see you again.” 

You smiled politely and nodded at the man. “I did as well. I’ll see you around!” Your voice held enthusiasm that made Law’s heart pang, and he made a decision. 

He waited for the man to leave, and then quickly took the seat next to you. 

You were staring at your ramen, and didn’t bother to look at the man who had taken Jiato’s seat. One conversation with a stranger was enough for you today. You just wanted to curl up and go back to your hotel room and cry yourself to sleep.

“One pork ramen bowl, please,” a familiar voice said to the waiter. 

Your head whipped to the side to find your captain. Ex-captain, you reminded yourself. 

Law didn’t meet your eyes. He just kept staring ahead of him. “Do you actually want to leave?” he asked. 

You swallowed down the lump forming in your throat as you stared at him. You hadn’t expected to see him of all people. 

You stayed quiet for a while, and finally he turned and looked at you. You cut your eyes away quickly, opting to look at your empty ramen bowl instead.  

“Y/N-ya,” he prompted, waiting for an answer. 

“I can’t keep living like that,” you finally said. 

Law shot you an irritated glance and opened his mouth as if he were about to say something, but decided against it. 

“You can say it.” You spoke softly, your words almost drowned out in the noisy restaurant. 

He hesitated, but found the right words after a moment. “You didn’t have to leave.”

“You told me to.”

He scoffed. “I didn’t mean literally.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I did take it literally,” you shot back, trying to keep your face and your tone calm. You had just gotten out of a fight with him earlier today, you didn’t need another one flaring up again. And so publicly. “I told you, Law. I’m tired of this back and forth. So when you said leave, I just…there didn’t seem like another option for me.”

He gritted his teeth, as if he were holding back another argument to throw at you. “Well,  you didn’t have to leave. I-”

You stared at him, waiting for the words to come. But they didn’t. His cheeks pinked and his eyes averted your gaze. 

“What?” you asked, continuing to watch him. “You what?”

His pork ramen arrived, and he turned his attention to his food instead. You knew what he was doing. He was trying to get you to come back to the ship without ever actually apologizing. Or having anything change. But you were serious when you said you couldn’t live like that any more. You’d rather start a new, fresh life than keep going in this vicious cycle. 

You grabbed your bag and dropped some money on the table. “Goodbye, Law,” you said, turning away so he couldn’t see the tears in your eyes. 

“Stop,” he whispered. But you were already out on the street, out of earshot. 

“Hey!” he jumped up, chasing you out onto the street. 

He found you quickly and reached out, grabbing your arm. You turned around, shocked at the sudden pressure on your wrist. 

“Law! Sto-” He cut off your words with a kiss. Or he tried to, but as your lips met his, you pulled away. 

“What are you doing?!” you demanded. “Stop!”

Your loud voice drew several people’s gaze, everyone stopping to make sure you were okay. You could hear people murmuring around you and feel their stares. 

Law dropped your hand, giving you a confused and annoyed glare. “I’m trying to- Do you mind?!” he shouted at everyone watching you all. 

He looked back at you, his voice softer again. “I’m sorry, okay? I was stupid and selfish. Please come back to the ship. Please stay. Please don’t ever leave my side again.”

You chewed on your lip. “Law-”

“I’ll never ignore you or put you second again. I can’t lose you. You’re the closest thing to family I still have and-” his voice broke, and you could see tears in his eyes. “I love you, okay?”

You blinked in shock. You were certainly not expecting that kind of confession to come from him. You weren’t sure whether you wanted to cry or hug him. 

Law made the decision for you, and wrapped you in his arms. You could feel him peppering the top of your head with kisses, and you began to cry into his chest. 

“Don’t cry. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured in your ear, and you pulled away to wipe the tears from your face. 

“Lets go get your stuff and get back to the ship,” he offered, entwining his fingers with yours. 

You nodded, squeezing his hand. You felt more hopeful about the future than you had in a long time. A new chapter of your life truly had begun. 

[siriuslysmoking]

Full Moon

Fictober Masterlist

Day 2 of Fictober: Werewolf Clarisse

After another exhausting day at work, you decide to take a shortcut through the woods, hoping to get home faster. The night is already dark, and shadows loom ominously among the trees. A chill runs down your spine, but you push on, trying to shake off the feeling of unease.

Suddenly, a rustle in the underbrush makes your heart leap. Before you can react, a massive figure bursts forth—a werewolf, its fur glinting in the moonlight. You freeze, terror gripping you, and instinct takes over. You turn and sprint into the trees, branches whipping at your arms.

“Stay back!” you scream, but the beast is fast, its growls echoing behind you. Your feet pound against the ground, adrenaline surging through your veins. Just as you glance over your shoulder, you trip over a root, crashing to the forest floor.

Pain shoots through your ankle as you struggle to get up, but the werewolf is upon you, powerful and fierce. You brace yourself for an attack, but it hesitates, confusion flickering in its eyes. “No!” you cry out, but it lunges forward, its claws grazing your arm and leaving a deep cut.

You gasp, the world spinning as pain overwhelms you. As darkness closes in, you manage one last thought: Am I going to die here?

When you awaken, it’s in a dimly lit cabin. The air is warm, but the scent of earth and herbs lingers. Blinking away the haze, you look around, confusion flooding your mind. Panic rises as you remember the werewolf, but then you see her—Clarisse—kneeling beside you, tending to your wounds with gentle hands.

“Hey, you’re awake,” she says softly, her voice laced with relief. “I was so worried.”

You sit up abruptly, the memories flooding back. “What happened? There was a-a- monster in the woods!” you demand, fear creeping back in.

"I know." clarisse sighs.

"It hurt me! Have you seen it?" You look out the foggy window.

"It's not coming back, I promise."

"How do you know?" You meet her eyes.

"Because, the beast... was me."

"Wh-what?" You slowly move from her eyes to the deep scratches on your leg and arm.

"I'm the one who hurt you." Clarisse looks down at her lap.

"Wh-why?"

"I-I can't control it, during the full moon my predator instict takes over and I don't know friend from foe, I'm so sorry."

"Am I- Am I one now?" You shakely ask.

"No, I didn't bite you, I have some control over myself but not much, it was just a couple deep scratches." She shakes her head, obviously feeling immense guilt.

As she continues to tend to your wounds, the fear inside you begins to fade, replaced by a tentative connection. In that cabin, surrounded by the remnants of the night’s chaos, you realize that beneath the fearsome exterior lies a creature grappling with her own demons—a guardian who lost control but wants to make amends.

Taglist: @champomiel@nockstormbringer@strawbeffys

[mostly-marvel-musings]

Old Tricks - P3

A/N: Now I can’t stop writing…

Pairing: Tony Stark x F! Reader

Warnings: 18+ themes, fluff.

Find Part 1 & Part 2 here ;)

.

Your husband was missing. Again.

And right after promising that he wouldn’t be late for movie night.

Movie nights. Something you had designated every once in a while complete with buttery popcorn and candy and lots of fluffy pillows and blankets.

Sighing, you finished your glass of wine while his lay untouched and made your way downstairs where he was probably killing his back over some invention.

As suspected, there he was, deep in conversation with his virtual best friend, FRIDAY. You hadn’t decided whether to let this go or go up to him and remind him of what he’d missed. It didn’t hurt you because you had lived with the man long enough to understand he never did it on purpose.

Curiosity had gotten the better of you when you squinted to see what he was up to, watching your husband scroll through pictures that resembled…sex toys?

“Let’s keep the face plate easily retractable too, the wife has a thing for neck kisses and so do I.”

Tony murmured, mostly to himself but he made amendments to the project in front of him, fingers gliding over the keyboard to put his words into actuality. He had lost track of time but only because it was directed towards a little present he had been working on, for you.

Unknown to him, you were standing back within earshot, watching him work with a mixture of shock and amusement on your face.

“I mean, I know Y/N loves coming on my fingers just as much. Maybe we could tweak the suit? Add additional modes on the vibrators too.”

Sure, boss.

Blush crept up your cheeks as his words fell on your ears, it was as if he was discussing any other modification to be done to his Iron Man suits. You tiptoed inside, not wanting to announce your presence just yet as Tony Stark - the successor of Stark Industries, genius inventor, world-renown superhero and philanthropist continued his back and forth with the AI.

You watched as prototypes holograms of his suit showed up, the alterations he spoke about highlighted along with detailed description of its features. The man ran his fingers through his hair, leaving them a glorious mess before walked around the table as if to get a whole 360 view.

Clearing your throat finally, you stifled a laugh as your husband jumped with a hand over his heart.

“Jesus Christ! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

Chuckling, you wrapped your arms around the man and reached up to give him a soft kiss. He sighed and hugged you, rubbing your back gently.

“You know among the things I presumed you do down here, I never imagined I’d catch you doing this. I also didn’t realise we had branched out to Adults Toys R Us.” You giggled when Tony playfully slapped your butt, joining in your laughter.

“It was supposed to be a surprise and a silly little gift. For the countless dates I’ve missed, I’m sorry.” He stared at his feet, scratching the back of his neck almost nervously.

“So you’re making me an apology sex toy? You continue to amaze me, Mr. Stark.” You murmured, making him look up at you again before pressing your lips to his lightly.

The man truly was unbelievable.

“What did I miss?” He asked earnestly, guilt evidently reflecting in his brown eyes.

“Our movie night. But it’s okay, I won’t hold it against you. Especially not if promise to reveal what all of this is about.”

Chuckling lowly, Tony planted his head on your shoulder, letting out a tired sigh and a purr the moment your fingers ran through his hair, comforting him.

“Am I going to get a demo or what?” You turned towards his work station while still keeping your arms around him.

“Nope. It’s still a work in progress.” Tony shrugged, swiftly shutting down his work.

“Oh come on, Tony! At least tell me something about it, what does it look like, how do I use it—”

“Oh no, you’re not going to use it. I am.”

You frowned, coaxing him to continue, now that he’d really got your interest piqued. It wasn’t surprising that he would design something like this without involving an element of ‘him’ in it.

“You’re giving me a present that’s meant to be used by you? Hmm, I’m not so sure if I want it now..” you teased, welcoming Tony as he slotted himself between your legs, caging you in by placing both his arms on either side.

“Oh you want it, alright. I’ve made sure it’s everything you’d wished for and more.”

“Hmm.. I would like some more details before I decide how I feel about this present.” Your arms naturally found their way behind his neck, excitement already building deep within as your little banter continued.

“Well?”

“Let’s just say all of your suit kink prayers have been answered, Mrs. Stark.”

No smut just yet 🤭

[tsc-malec]

“Alec?” Magnus was staring at him. He had dispatched the remaining Iblis demons, and the square was empty but for the two of them. “Did you just—did you just save my life?”

Alec knew he ought to say something like, Of course, because I’m a Shadowhunter and that’s what we do, or That’s my job. Jace would have said something like that. Jace always knew the right thing to say. But the words that actually came out of Alec’s mouth were quite different—and sounded petulant, even to his own ears. “You never called me back,” he said. “I called you so many times and you never called me back.”

Magnus looked at Alec as if he’d lost his mind. “Your city is under attack,” he said. “The wards have broken, and the streets are full of demons. And you want to know why I haven’t called you?”

Alec set his jaw in a stubborn line. “I want to know why you haven’t called me back.”

Magnus threw his hands up in the air in a gesture of utter exasperation. Alec noted with interest that when he did it, a few sparks escaped from his fingertips, like fireflies escaping from a jar. “You’re an idiot.”

“Is that why you didn’t call me? Because I’m an idiot?”

“No.” Magnus strode toward him. “I didn’t call you because I’m tired of you only wanting me around when you need something. I’m tired of watching you be in love with someone else—someone, incidentally, who will never love you back. Not the way I do.”

“You love me?”

“You stupid Nephilim,” Magnus said patiently. “Why else am I here? Why else would I have spent the past few weeks patching up all your moronic friends every time they got hurt? And getting you out of every ridiculous situation you found yourself in? Not to mention helping you win a battle against Valentine. And all completely free of charge!”

“I hadn’t looked at it that way,” Alec admitted.

“Of course not. You never looked at it in any way.” Magnus’s cat eyes shone with anger. “I’m seven hundred years old, Alexander. I know when something isn’t going to work. You won’t even admit I exist to your parents.”

Alec stared at him. “I thought you were three hundred! You’re seven hundred years old?”

“Well,” Magnus amended, “eight hundred. But I don’t look it. Anyway, you’re missing the point. The point is—”

But Alec never found out what the point was, because at that moment a dozen more Iblis demons flooded into the square. He felt his jaw drop. “Damn it.”

Magnus followed his gaze. The demons were already fanning out into a half circle around them, their yellow eyes glowing. “Way to change the subject, Lightwood.”

“Tell you what.” Alec reached for a second seraph blade. “We live through this, and I promise I’ll introduce you to my whole family.”

Magnus raised his hands, his fingers shining with individual azure flames. They lit his grin with a fiery blue glow. “It’s a deal.”

—City of Glass

[ldrfanatic]

i love you

part two of the breakup series

i'm really digging this y'all, sorry not sorry

one two

bookcase slytherin boys

song listened to while writing - i love you, i'm sorry by gracie abrahams

"why am i always in the wrong?!"

you pinched the bridge of your nose between you index finger and thumb, desperately clinging to whatever semblance of sanity you had left. after deciding to go back to being friends, you and theo had been butting heads for weeks.

admittedly, he wasn't the only one fucking this thing up, but he continued to act as though nothing had happened. he repeatedly crossed decidedly not friendly boundaries and acted like an overprotective boyfriend.

but he wasn't your boyfriend anymore. and you were starting to get tired of reminding him of that.

"i can't do this with you."

the finality of your tone seemed to dissolve theo's anger nearly instantly.

"w-what?"

"i said we could talk, we did. it was a beneficial conversation. but i set boundaries with you, theo. boundaries you've blatantly ignored. how can we be a good couple if we can't even be good friends?"

"but I don't want to lose you."

you looked at your ex-boyfriend, your best friend really, with a torn look.

"that's just the way life goes." you gathered your things into your arms and headed towards the door. you lingered in the archway, turning over your shoulder to blow theo a tearful kiss. "i love you, i'm sorry."

-=-

theodore nott had no idea what to do. now that he was officially without you, it seemed like he was just spectating life. nothing felt real.

after a few weeks, you'd gotten to the point where you would talk and even joke occasionally, but only in public settings. theo tried not to push his luck with it. he was fortunate that you would even look at him after what he did.

instead, theo did his best to push his emotions away. he tried to drink them away at first, but once you heard, you immediately cut contact with him until he promised to drink only when he was in a good headspace.

everywhere he went he'd slip up with an inside joke or a code that only the two of you knew. even mattheo had started to flash him rather pitying looks.

finally, after a grueling charms lesson, theo had worked up enough courage to talk to you before lunch began.

"Y/n."

you graced him with a smile that would've made him feel better. that is, if it had reached your eyes enough to be considered a genuine smile. after three years of dating, no one could detect one of your fake smiles like theodore.

"yeah theodore?"

you'd finally stopped calling him nott but theodore wasn't much better if he was being honest.

"i just wanted to apologize. i know i wasn't at my best when we were-"

your voice interrupted him.

"you were the best. you were also the worst."

"i know. i was a dick, it is what it is. it's a habit i need to kick."

"age old curse."

theo took a few steps closer, and gently grasped your hand when you didn't step away.

"i just want to make amends. lately it seems like shit is never-ending. but i needed you to know that how everything ended, everything that went down between us, it haunts me."

"it's okay theodore. we're friends now."

you smiled and gave his hand a squeeze. it may not have been completely genuine, but it was a healing smile. you were healing. and who was theo to disrupt that? loving you and wanting you to be happy had to also include stepping back and letting you be happy even if it had to be without him, right?

"right. friends."

theo wanted to be more than friends. way more than friends.

-=-

"i'm wrong again."

"what?"

pansy looked up from her potions textbook as you stomped into the dorm room and plopped face down onto the bed.

"i slammed the door closed on theo earlier. whatever might have been is definitely never going to happen now."

"i thought you didn't want anything more to happen?"

you had to curse your best friend for being so accurate all the damn time. did she always have to be right? your voice was muffled as it sounded from the other side of the room.

"i thought so too. but, i can't get him out of my head."

pansy placed a spare piece of parchment in her book, and closed it, clearly resigned that she wouldn't be getting any work done tonight. instead, she perched on the edge of the bed and rubbed your back soothingly.

"that's normal. you guys dated for over three years."

"but this is different. what if he's my soulmate?"

your eyes welled up.

"then he'll come back to you."

-=-

<taglist>

@moonlightreader649 @thatdammchickennugget @helendeath @fandom-life-12 @bouquetolegoflowers @maryvibess @nighttimemoonlover @blobsblobician

[spencerreidsbookfairy]

SET UP.

famous!readers back you guys and its angstier than ever.

Okay so I skipped dinner.

I physically couldn’t handle the expected awkwardness 

I lied and told him my manager needed to to talk me and it was urgent

He's a profiler you dumb bitch

Part of me feels bad, but it’s not like I don’t want to make amends with him and his team; it’s just that ever since I was a little girl, I’ve struggled with confrontation, and it’s followed me into adulthood. I know avoiding the issue won’t make it go away, and I’m fully aware that he probably sees right through my excuse. Still, the thought of facing him and his team, of having to explain myself and potentially deal with their disappointment, feels like too much to handle right now. It’s frustrating to be so paralyzed by something as simple as a conversation, but I’m hoping that with time and a bit of courage, I can find a way to address it.

Adding to my anxiety about confronting them is the lingering sting of how they treated me behind my back. I’d overheard them making fun of my singing and mocking my songs, which felt like a punch to the gut. It wasn’t just the hurtful comments but the sense of betrayal from a group I had hoped would be supportive. The thought of facing them now feels like stepping into a hostile environment, where every word and gesture might be laced with judgment or ridicule. This makes my reluctance to confront the situation even more overwhelming, as the fear of being dismissed or belittled looms large.

On top of everything, I already feel incredibly insecure about being around Spencer’s team. Here I am, a singer trying to make a name for myself, while they’re FBI profilers, experts in their field, and it’s hard not to feel like my career is a joke in comparison. The stark contrast between our worlds—my creative, emotionally driven profession versus their analytical, high-stakes work—makes me question if I even belong in their presence. Every interaction feels like an unspoken judgment of my career choice, amplifying my insecurities and making me doubt whether my passion for music is taken seriously or just seen as a frivolous hobby in their eyes.

I then decide to go out to a party to self soothe God knows i need it, seeing all my friends 

Bella, gigi and ariana all my friends making it their duty to make me feel better about my current situationship

I then see a blonde, gorgeous woman walk into the club 

Its lila archer

No.

No.

Lila always secretly resented me, for what reason i'm not sure, but one thing i do know is that i'm not the problem lilas notorious for being a huge bitch to almost everyone she comes in contact with. Her fame getting to head 24/7 I truly want someone to shoot me if i ever turn out to be like her, so rude so dismissive so-

Wait whys she walking over here? Was i talking out loud???? 

“y/nnnnnnn???’’ she dreadfully drags out. ‘’ what are you doing here, everyone else told me youve been at home moping over a guy” voice FILLED with mockery terribly trying to be hidden with concern 

I finally get the courage to say something.

“ wow words get around fast i guess”

“ im here for you you know, if you ever need advice, like beauty advice, or just friend advice”

Oh. 

I already feel immensely insecure around her. her gorgeous eyes, body face, dating history

Before i can say anything back she chirps up and says

‘’ what is his name anyways? Wont spill the beans, promise.”

“Spencer.”

‘’ wow so I don't get a last name” she says and laughs, " that poisonous laugh will kill me one day.

‘“Reid.’’

I can see the knowing smirk forming on her face and i'm confused on whats humorous about his name

‘’ oh my god, you mean FBI spencer reid, that dirty dog just can’t get enough of the public eye girls can he, he sure does have a mouth on him though.’’

Fuck. my. Life. 

He said i was his  first girlfriend,

Im hyperventilating internally 

‘’ maybe you're thinking of someone else lila, spencer said i'm his first girlfriend”

‘’ Oh you probably are, we still had fun though, he saved my life. Of course I'd reward him for it.”

I swear the music in the club stopped when she said that

‘’ excuse me.’’

I say as i quickly power walk out the nightclub and into my car to go home

You might be asking why i'm freaking out so bad

Spencer told me we were each others first time.

I gave him my virginity thinking it was his first time too.

He lied.

He lied.

He lied.

[controld3vil]

split

pairing(s): sub-zero/bi-han & reptile/syzoth x reader (seperate) synopsis: shang tsung’s proposition tempted you. his powers guaranteed so you took it. how can they see you now, when you’re going against your morals for yourself? alt: requested by this ask! notes: - reader is gender neutral - anon, thank uu for requesting !! i also wanna mention, im capable of writing for most of mk1 characters :] i should’ve specified on my pinned comment but as long as you read my rules, it’s all good - btw this was such a fun concept to write !!

BI HAN/SUB-ZERO  -> It works in his favor, while Bi-Han struggled to make amends for the well-being of Lin Kuei. Circumstances were failing him - his father, no doubt, created a bad example for him. He could not guide him on the significance of maintaining order on Earthrealm. Your recent habits did not surprise him - you were always a kind-hearted person. You were the one who helped Tomas when he struggled to make a perfect score and who volunteered additional counseling for new Lin Kuei trainees - you were dutiful to follow his steps and to protect Earthrealm.

-> But perhaps on that day, when Shang Tsung turned Bi-Han against his brothers, it made you think twice about what was at stake. Kuai Liang knocks him out and brings him back to the compound in solitary confinement. “Kuai Liang told me you aligned with the enemy?” You questioned, him half expecting you to be furious at his endeavor. The Lin Kuei's Grandmaster scoffs at the mention of Scorpion, his scorned brother, the one to betray him. “He was a fool otherwise - What Shang Tsung offered will lead The Lin Kuei to glory.” Part of Bi-Han’s mind pondered your disapproval of his defiance - you always disliked the mistreatment of power, leaving no justice for those less fortunate. Why you are willing to stand by his stand is unknown to the Grandmaster. -> You do not visit for a few days, and the cryomancer grows wary of your rejection against him. Coincidentally, you were more aligned with his younger brothers, accepting the peace that Liu Kang made - you were never to oppose, even suggesting alternative solutions when issues struck. Liu Kang nonetheless appreciated your advice but never took upon your suggestions. Bi-Han feels enraged by this - you had many skills, faring better than some of his soldiers.  -> The night he escaped the compound, Sektor and Cyrax reassure him of your safety. It was your idea, and Bi-Han feels relief when he encounters you keeping watch. Lin Kuei soldiers – devoted to him and your cause, are by your side, monitoring the site. The Grandmaster drained from numerous hours of inactivity, bolts to you. “I thought you would stay,” Left me – a fear he would never tell. However, you catch it in his eyes, promising, almost pleading for you. “I am by your side, Bi-Han,” you say, interlacing your hands with his. “Never forget that.”  -> Your peculiar habits began bit by bit after the battle with Titan Shang Tsung. With the service of Sektor, Bi-han was able to elevate the Lin Kuei with cybernetic soldiers. He acknowledged this was the more reasonable choice than Shang Tsung’s soul stealers as it was discreet from Liu Kang’s notice. You believed the same - the Lin Kuei required more allies, and building their strength would be a nifty task. The revelation brought you to the masterful sorcerer. Shang Tsung is disingenuous but does not worry you. As long as he did his end of the bargain, you considered - would be adequate. In exchange for control, he could summon you at any time. An easy compromise that you assumed - would not disrupt Lin Kuei’s plans. -> Time after time, you were not like yourself. You felt you had gone through a dramatic shift after inheriting new powers. It was as if you were reborn with greater intention. The things you used to tend for did not feel the exact or vital. Scorpion and Smoke pointed this out when they witnessed you again in Japan. Things have changed — you have changed. They could see it in your eyes and demeanor. You were no longer the gentle and maternal figure they grew up seeing. [ bi-han ]: together, side by side, the lin kuei will fare no better glory. [ you ]: if only kuai liang and tomas understood this.

SYZOTH/REPTILE -> Syzoth is worried about you. Every minute you stand by Shang Tsung’s side, darkness infests your mind. Syzoth had bare witness to the mischievous schemes and understood it would be detrimental for you. Compared to him and everyone else, you were the last person someone would wish to pursue into madness. How should he explain this? -> When Syzoth met you, it was a pure accident. You were gazing through the multiple fruit stands the city had to show. He was performing a show per Shang Tsung’s persistence. To reveal his Zaterran qualities, Reptile continuously did tricks, transforming back and forth between forms. His stunts were not the first thing that captured your stare. But merely his smile - you knew what happiness and joy felt like. From afar, you saw how broken he was. At the end of the night, Syzoth scurried backstage to prepare for the following day. Unexpectedly, you arrived, arms crossed behind your back with a cutely curious expression. “You’re the performer, right? The one with Zaterran blood?”   -> “What does it mean to you? Here to insult me?” His voice is sharp and rigid as he dismisses your presence, shaking the boxes beside his tent. Numerous strangers were keen to spend time with him. Most enjoyed the entertainment he produced. You saw the void Syzoth had, standing out on the podium like a puppet. It was degrading to a living being. You wanted to help him - however, Syzoth rejected it. If Shang Tsung witnessed your compassion, who knows what manipulative excuse he would use?  -> Though it struck him by surprise what Shang Tsung told him the following morning, “A benevolent soul has sent their regards to you and has convinced me to travel with us. I must thank you, Syzoth.” Horror struck the Zatterian as if he had witnessed the most vile crime. His intent was never to pursue you into his mess. Nonetheless, he frets for your safety and what would happen to your mind once corrupted.  -> Your innocence is what kept Syzoth going. In the opaque chasms of Shang Tsung's experiments, you were the one person he could lean on when circumstances had driven him mad. You are supportive and affectionate. And you know the ways and words to console him from his night terrors. While the longer you stayed with him, the more you saw misconduct and depravity. There was an appeal to the sorcerer. Born with little power, you became curious for a better life. Shang Tsung gladly offered and gave you what you considered a gift from the Elder Gods. Like day and night, you were conspicuous with your odd habits. There were times Syzoth questioned your motives, always collecting materials for Shang Tsung and Quan Chi. You were delighted to comply with their requests, even going out of your way to exploit their payment. -> However, one thing he knew that was true was your fondness for him. You deeply cared for the shape-shifting Zatterran. Always there to safeguard him from unwanted matters. All the horrific experiments tormented him. And when they fetch new subjects, the laboratory would be the worst place to reside. The nauseating smell of flesh and blood could never escape him. That is the burden Syzoth must carry forever. You were his guardian angel in some ways. In frantic need, you make all his fears go away. Simply by your presence alone, Syzoth will feel at ease. Where he is near, you are never too far off. You have sacrificed much for him.

-> The two of you looked out for each other. There was no line you would not cross to save Syzoth. Even now, as you two fled the wretched laboratory of his former master, you had suggested killing the Earthrealmers. Which Syzoth immediately brought down, scolding you for how casual you made it sound to be. Johnny, Kenshi, and Kung Lao were not like Shang Tsung. They were deemed trustworthy - for setting him and you free from imprisonment. He knew you meant no harm, simply looking out for his safety and yours. Syzoth hopes one day to change your perspective on outsiders and Earthrealm alike. He believes you would thrive better here at Lord Liu Kang’s sanctuary.  -> Initially, the Fire God had given his friend, Johnny, a questionable look. After he deemed him, you, and Asrah compatible with Earthrealm's cause, you were welcome with open arms. It was the first step for you to contemplate and rehabilitate yourself. He hopes for you to stay away from harm. Syzoth all knew of the toxic threads Shang Tsung had placed on you - he anticipates you freed of them. And to allow yourself to aid people for the greater good.  [ you ]: don't believe all of what liu kang has to say. [ syzoth ]: why? and trust shang tsung instead?

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

BENEATH MILES OF STONE. XXI ;

🪙 chapter map 🪙 John Wick x Fat Fem Reader 🪙 the very delayed next chapter. i think this story was last updated in march. you guys don’t know how mind blown and grateful and giddy i am to have people connect with me over words and interests and the things i write. please enjoy and let me know what you think and pay attention to trigger warnings. 🪙 TW ; nsfw, violence

John’s a man of his word. Exactly 24 hours after he promises to fix things, and after 24 long hours of being tailed around an assassin hotel by at least eight bodyguards who, thankfully, know the meaning of personal space, he has a solution. 

A solution that he is scowling while telling her about. She tries to ease some of his rage while he talks, takes his boots off and ghosts her fingers up and down his bare back. 

He flips her hand over in his own, examining the pretty metallic black coated over her nails. “Who did this?” 

“Addie,” she says, smiling. “I really like her.” 

He smiles fondly at the shimmery hue. “Making friends?” 

A little giggle and eye roll, and he shudders when she reaches a particularly tender spot. How can she resist spidering back over it?

The uncontrollable way he bucks against her is insanely endearing, her soft touch more potent than bullets, apparently, and she can’t help but tease him about it. “I think I found your kryptonite, John.” 

He tackles her mid-chortle, puts her on her tummy and pins her there. 

“Can’t you just let me winnnn?” She kicks her feet into the mattress. 

“There you go again,” he muses, contemplating tapping the squirm out of her ass. Or biting into it, leaving the ident of his teeth on the plump, pretty flesh. “Trying to use cute as an advantage.” 

“Is it working?” She asks, looking over her shoulder at him. 

“Little bit.” 

God, she’s fucking adorable. It’s painful, this desire to gobble her up, sweeten his belly with sugar and everything nice. “I get this feeling sometimes, that you don’t want to be touched? And if you don’t, that’s okay…But you can tell me.” 

And what would be the harm, especially since she already seems to be inside of him so deeply he’ll never be able to unstick all her pieces from his marrow.

“I want you to touch me,” he says, aching at the prospect of her withholding that. “But I’m not used to it.” Even when he’s fighting, the number of times opponents land a hit are paltry in comparison to his own, and even then he barely feels it. 

Nothing like how soft she is with him. She is the direct opposite of what he’s used to; maybe that’s why he’s so love drunk, enraptured with the novel flavor of compassion. He grimaces at the dimpled red skin on the backs of her thighs, remnants from his rough facial hair, soothes over them with his thumb, unintentionally tickling her. 

“I’m sorry,” she says, squirming under him. “Just tell me if you get uncomfortable, okay?” 

“Okay.” He decides to go back in, because the thought of her avoiding him because of this debacle is terrifying. “I’m not used to losing. I’m not used to giving up control. I’m not good at it.” His monotone catches on a rare high note, and she blinks blankly at him for a moment.

“Have you ever been tied up?” 

He laughs at her suddenly shy, averted gaze. “Yes, I have.” 

“And you can get out of it pretty easily, I’m guessing?” She’s only teasing a little bit, prodding at his inhumane skill levels. 

“Your guess is right.” 

“So, have you ever been tied up in a way you can’t get out of?” 

“Yeah.” 

“You want me to, yknow, tie you up? Make it so you can’t win?” Nervous and writhing, quickly amending this. “You don’t have to, just if you want. I don’t wanna force you into anything and I—“

But he’s lost a little focus, thinking about being at her gentle, teasing mercy. About being bound and open for her, this small, kind thing intent to torture him with sweetness. His cock hardens until it leaks. “I would love that.”

“Yeah?” She asks, beaming up at him. 

He swallows. “Yeah.” 

He lets her up, smooths her hair back, kisses her head. “I need you to come to dinner with me. The Tarasov’s want to meet you, and they will keep you safe if I’m unavailable.” 

“Does Viggo need eight men to replace you, John?” She kisses his palm, thinking of the men in suits trailing her earlier, of the different ones now standing outside of their room. 

“I’m invaluable to him.” There’s really no cocky inclination to that, just a deep guttural sadness, a regret even. 

She pushes his hair back behind his ear. “Viggo needs you.” 

He nods. 

But I want you. This she keeps to herself, watching his lips ghost her knuckles. 

“Does this mean I get to go back to my life? Still with you in it?”

“Yes,” he tells her. “And if I find a way to keep you with me that’s safe, I’ll never leave you.” 

“I’m sorry I’m being like this, but I have responsibilities to other people. Other things. My patients, Michael—“

He shushes her with a peck to her top lip. “I know.” 

“Hm.” She smiles at him, wide, pretty eyes twinkling. “If I’m gonna tie you up, you gotta teach me how.” 

Chuckling a dark kiss to her forehead, he hums in agreement. “Do you have anything formal in your closet?” 

“Define formal?” 

“Dresses.” He pauses, imagining her in a pretty sundress, and his brain gets fuzzy again. 

“John,” she calls, snapping him back into reality. “What kind of dresses?” 

He really is distracted. Rubs the back of his neck, knows what he would like to see her in, something satin and clinging, accentuating her curves just enough to keep him from strangling anyone that looks too long, and then, to match, and underneath, only for him, sheer feminine lace. 

She tries to wait for him to become functional, and loses her patience. “I only have one dress and it’s off shoulder, knee length, flowery. Actually, I dunno if it even fits. It’s from a long time ago…college graduation, I think.”

He longs for the days where his cock was under control. She tries not to notice, eyes looking anywhere but down. 

“Is…that okay?” Big eyes, pursed lips, hopeful little smile. Additionally, then, he longs for the days where his heart was under control. 

“Let’s go get it,” he says. 

——————————————-

Thankfully, and despite lurid, bright visions of her modeling that coveted, pretty college dress for him, he manages to willpower his cock soft before they enter into her apartment where her roommate is busying himself in the kitchen.

“This is him?!” Michael is suddenly very angry, although the other two are very confused as to why. He spins around, and the flour on his neon pink apron fluffs around him. 

Michael marches up to the taller man and points a powdery finger into his chest. “You! John! You’re fucking around with my friend’s feelings?!” 

Before she can intervene on this interaction, Michael does something stupid, unexpected, and altogether horrifying: He slaps John in the face. 

[wolfjackle-creates]

Bring Me Home Arc 2 Part 13

Happy Wednesday! This arc is over 20k already. How many of you didn't realize that? I've got a longer segment for you this week. There wasn't really a good place to end it and this brings us to the end of the scene. If you like banter, this segment is for you.

Story Summary: Tim and Danny are both neglected by parents who care more about their work than their families. They deal with this by spending too much time online and find each other playing MMORPGs. They keep up their friendship as Tim becomes Robin and Danny becomes Phantom and don't bother keeping secrets from each other.

First, Previous

Word Count: 2.2k

-----

Jeremy couldn’t help but add, “Be sure to mention us to your dad, Timothy. It’s been ages since we’ve last been able to meet at a gala!”

“Yes, sir,” said Tim. Not that he’d be following through. Assholes. Danny pushed him up a wide staircase that framed the entranceway to get to the second floor.

“Exactly like my parents,” he told Sam.

“I swear, if I didn’t have Gradma Ida, I’d go insane. My room’s this way.”

Sam’s room was so large that not only did she have a double bed and vanity, but also a couch and enough cushions that they were all able to spread out comfortably. Tim and Danny took beanbag chairs next to each other. His friends took the couch while Tucker took a space on the floor and promptly pulled out a laptop and two PDAs. Sam settled in a rocking chair.

Tim laid out the goodies they’d gotten from the corner store. “We brought snacks.”

Sam grabbed a bag of chips. “Thanks. So what’s on the agenda for the night?”

Cassie asked, “Is there anything we can do about the ghosts?”

Danny buried his face in his hands. “I don’t know. I can’t get a close enough read on them to see where any are. And there’s so many that even if I knock one out of a human, another would just take it’s place.”

“Any idea what they might be after?” asked Tim. “The ones last night were wearing uniforms like police officers. And we saw the news report from your school earlier. That one looked like a werewolf.”

“He was wearing a collar,” added Bart. “And his outfit also appeared to be a uniform of some sort, though not a police one.”

All of them stared at Bart.

“You don’t think he was there willingly,” said Sam.

Bart shrugged. “Didn’t look that way to me.”

Danny groaned and leaned over until he was resting his head on Tim’s shoulder. “What am I supposed to do with that? What do I do if he’s not here to attack the town?”

Tim wrapped his arm around Danny to hold him steady. “How much sleep were you able to get between last night and now?”

“Unno,” mumbled Danny. “Three, four hours?”

Cassie clicked her tongue at him. “How about you get some rest tonight and we can figure it out tomorrow. We’ll take the night in shifts and if there’s a large-scale attack again, we’ll wake you up.”

Tim sighed. “Much as I hate to admit it, Cassie’s right. You need to sleep.”

Danny snorted into his neck and Tim couldn’t help the way his cheeks heated at the feel of his breath. “Like you’re one to talk.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tim rolled his eyes. “We all know I’m not a good role model. Do as Alfred says, not as I do.”

“Wayne family moto!” Conner teased. Tim gave him the finger.

“Just one thing to do first,” said Bart.

“Yeah,” added Tucker. “I need to fix up Conner’s phone.”

“Two things, then,” amended Bart.

“What’s the other thing?” asked Sam. “I feel like I’m out of the loop.”

Cassie leaned back and looked up at the ceiling. “The Fentons gave us a tour of the lab. We want to arrange a system to get Danny out of Amity if things go bad.”

Tim noted how both Tucker and Sam tensed and exchanged a look. Then Sam nodded. “We’re in. And since you are who you are, which, Danny, we will be talking about how you kept Justice League connections from us later, we’ll trust you to be able to do it.”

“Don’t be mad at him,” protested Tim. “I made him promise to keep my secrets. It wasn’t safe for him to discuss it.”

Tucker waved a hand in the air. “We understand. Doesn’t mean we’re not frustrated with him. Don’t worry about it, though. Your secret’s safe with us.”

Tim bit his lip. “Please. It’s vitally important for my family’s safety that nothing gets out.”

Conner snorted. “Plus Batman would murder you dead if he found out you let anything slip.”

Tim groaned. “Don’t remind me. I’ll have so much paperwork. And would probably be benched for forever.”

Bart laughed and flicked a chip at him. “We’d kidnap you and help you prepare a new hero identity!”

With Danny still leaning on him, Tim couldn’t even catch the projectile and it hit him on the forehead. “I’ll take you up on that if I ever do get benched permanently.”

Sam cleared her throat. “As amusing as this all is, what’s the plan with Danny?”

Danny groaned, but didn’t move. “I don’t need one, guys. It’s not as bad as you think.”

Bart snorted. “Dude, your parents showed us an iron maiden.”

Danny shook his head. “Dad’s the only one who’s been shut up in that. And that was for threatening me and Jazz with it.”

“Um… what?” asked Cassie. “Why does everything you say make me feel more concerned?”

Tucker spoke around a mouthful of jerky. “Because his parents are mad scientists.”

Sam nodded. “No one lives in the houses on either side of his. And the value of every building on the street has plummeted due to proximity.”

Cassie shook her head. “How the hell have they been allowed to do all that? And why haven’t their driver’s licenses been revoked? We saw how they drove that tank of theirs.”

Tucker snorted. “No cop or city official is brave enough to go up to Jack ‘I can run through brick walls’ Fenton and tell him he’s not allowed to do something.”

Sam laughed. “And even if they were, Maddie Fenton has a blackbelt and will hold a grudge.”

“Last night it also seemed like she knows her way around that arsenal she’s got,” said Tim.

“Yeah,” said Danny. “Mom’s the one you’ve got to watch out for when my parents go on the hunt.”

“Okay.” Tim was already thinking up ways to neutralize them. “Us four should be able to handle them. What about Jazz? Is she someone we’d have to worry about?”

Danny pushed himself up and made sure Tim could see him rolling his eyes. “Jazz would never do anything to hurt me.” It was clear Danny believed his statement completely. And, honestly? After all the stories Danny’d told him and meeting Jazz in person, Tim was inclined to believe him. Though Danny wasn’t done. “And my parents would stop if they had any idea I was Phantom.”

Neither Tim nor Danny was as certain about that statement. Glancing around, everyone else seemed to have the same doubts.

“Well,” said Tim. “You know me. And I’ve told you about B. ‘Backup plans’ is my middle name. I’ll feel more comfortable if we have one.”

“Fine.” Danny flopped over until he was laying across Tim’s lap. “But don’t expect me to help.”

Now it was Tim’s turn to roll his eyes, but his fingers were gentle as they brushed through Danny’s hair. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. So, it’s Maddie we’ll have to outsmart. I doubt Jack’s strength is any match for Conner or Cassie.”

“I can get you access to the Fenton house,” said Tucker gesturing to his laptop. “Even if they activate the home defense system.”

Tim nodded. “Thanks. I’ll also get you communicators so you can reach me in case of an emergency.”

“Perfect,” said Sam. “We’ve each other’s cell numbers, too.”

“Yep,” said Tim. “But phones should only be used for civilian identities. If you need the help of heroes, please use the communicators. It’s best to keep things as separate as possible.”

Conner nudged Tim’s foot with his own. “Yep. Tim here won’t let us refer to him by name when he’s in costume. Even if we’re all alone in our own base behind two dozen layers of security.”

“Need I remind you who trained me?”

Cassie laughed. “He’s even worse. You should hear my aunt go on about him.”

Tucker was watching them with interest. “Who’s your aunt?”

Bart disappeared from his spot only to reappear next to Tucker to whisper in his ear.

Tucker’s eyes widened and he stared at Cassie in wonder. “That is so cool! Could you get me an autograph?”

Cassie laughed. “Why so surprised? You know who I am. Did you think I wouldn’t know her?”

Tucker blushed. “Yeah, well. Excuse me for being distracted by the ghost invasion we’re dealing with.”

Tim cleared his throat. “I think we’re getting off topic. Now, we have a way into the Fenton house. Tucker, could you get us all the way into the lab?”

“Easily. I’m fully in all their systems and they’ve no idea.”

“How will we know he’s in trouble?” asked Bart.

Tim bit his lip. “Danny and I already have a system in place where if we don’t hear from each other within seven days without prior warning, we reach out to someone. For me, it’s B’s butler. For him, it’s you Tucker.” He nudged Danny only to realize he had passed out his lap. Tim couldn’t help the fond smile he gave and shook his head. “Tomorrow I’ll propose decreasing that to three or four days.”

Conner nodded. “If none of us hear from one of you for more than four days, we’ll come. Probably me, Bart, or Cassie since we can travel faster.”

Tim grimaced, but nodded. Sometimes it really sucked being the only baseline human in the group.

Bart gave a thumbs up. “I can usually be somewhere in minutes if I’m not tied up doing something else!”

Sam looked them over critically. “You know he’s gonna insist that goes both ways. If you guys don’t check in, he’ll go to you if he can.”

Tucker began typing away on his laptop. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of this sooner. I’m setting up alerts on the Fenton lab. If they start recording any experiments on an actual ghost, I’ll get a notification. If there’s any indication it’s Phantom, I can have the alert forwarded to you.”

Tim nodded. “Good. Do that.” He looked at his team. “We’ve seen the Fenton’s weapons and some of their fighting skills by now. I don’t think we’ll have any issues subduing them if necessary.”

“Nah,” agreed Cassie. “We can handle them.”

Back to Sam and Tucker, Tim asked, “Do we know what their weapons can do to humans? What risks they pose?”

Sam grimaced. “The small blasters are fine. But some of the bigger weapons? Like the bazooka or the missiles? Those have caused damage to the roads and buildings beyond what the ghosts do.”

“Have there been any casualties?” asked Cassie.

Tucker shook his head. “No. Thank God. It’s all been property damage so far.”

Sam nudged him. “Not quite. You’re forgetting Wes’s brother. Jack broke his arm two weeks ago when he shot at the Box Ghost and knocked over the pile of bricks that was being used to rebuild Mr. Nguyen’s store.”

“Ugh, right. I think I was trying to block that debacle from my mind.”

Tim sighed and shook his head. “I knew it was bad, but Danny really downplayed it.”

Sam shrugged. “Yeah, well, this is life in Amity right now.”

“I suppose so.” Tim looked down at Danny who was frowning even in his sleep. “I think I’m gonna get him in a bed. Where will we be sleeping?”

“Probably a good idea,” agreed Sam. “Do you want to share a room?”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind. We haven’t had any one-on-one time yet. Which is a shame for our first in-person meeting!” Tim laughed and ignored the looks his friends were shooting him as well as the grins Sam and Tucker were exchanging. “Though with our lives, I should’ve expected something like this rather than a purely civilian meeting.”

Sam laughed. “Yeah, probably. This is about par for the course for us. Take the room across the hall. If you need the bathroom, if you exit my room, turn left and it’s two doors down on this side of the hall.”

Tim shifted so he could lift Danny up. Despite the shuffling, Danny didn’t open his eyes, though he did grumble indistinct protests.

“Just getting you in a bed,” said Tim.

Conner grabbed the bag that had their belongings in it and opened the doors for Tim. While Tim settled Danny in the bed, even having to remove shoes and socks, Conner separated their things so he would have everything he needed.

“Thanks, Kon.”

“Anytime, Tim. Get some rest yourself, okay?”

Tim huffed a laugh. “Sleep is for the weak.”

Conner shook his head. “You say that and yet at the end of basically every mission, you pass out for twelve hours and are useless for two days.”

Tim stuck out his tongue. “I do have homework to do. And I want to keep my eye on the local news channels. And I need to check in with Bruce again before he flips. Let me know when your phone is working?”

“Will do. See you tomorrow.”

“Night.”

-----

Next

So! They now have a working system for how to find out if Danny's in trouble and to get him out. Hopefully they won't have to use it! (I mean, we all know where this is going. I presume you've all read the original prompt and fill that started this mess.)

Also, thanks to a comment on the last post, I wanted to clarify the relationships in this fic. If you've gotten Core Four (Tim/Kon/Cassie/Bart) vibes from this... Yeah. You did. If you've gotten Everlasting Trio (Danny/Sam/Tucker) vibes from this... Yeah. You did. I'm going to write those groups as a sorta QPR. Eventually, we will have romantic Danny/Tim (hence I've been tagging this Dead Tired) on top of those QPRs, but that won't really happen for a while. First Danny will date Val and Tim will date Steph. Danny will have another relationship, too, that I'm keeping secret for now. None of those are likely to get any page time as I am planning a time skip after this arc. But they will be referenced by characters. The actual Danny/Tim won't happen until after the rescue scene from the original fill. (Which I'm sure you can imagine will be changed quite drastically now that all these characters know each other.)

I no longer do tag lists, but if you head to the Subscription Post, you can set up notifications for when this updates!

[syddsatyrn]

Chapter 1 ⛤ Chapter 2 ⛤ Chapter 3 ⛤ Chapter 4 ⛤ Chapter 5 Masterlist

⛤Pairing: - Eddie Munson x FemReader

⛤Warnings: Swearing, drinking / smoking, fluff, friends to lovers. This is probably gonna end in smut.

⛤Words: 1.4k

⛤Song: "Photograph" By Def Leppard

⛤Summary: Moving away from Hawkins was the biggest mistake of your life. You left your best friends and forgot to stay in touch. Years later, you decide to hit up your good friend Steve. Its time to make a plan and make amends. The one thing you didn't expect was feelings to resurface when you saw your old highschool crush.

⛤Notes: This series is 18+ Minors scram. Special thanks to @hellfiremunsonn, I am a wreck without her, lol. This chapter is a little short. We are doing a slow burn, ladies , gentleman and nonbinary friends. Next Chapter will have Eddie in it I promise! Please check out Chapter one before you start this one. Thank you!

⛤Chapter 2: Pulling Strings You walk into work early and meet up with your manager. You explain that you need a week off to visit family in Hawkins. They calculate your vacation time and approve it, it's official! In two weeks you're going back to your childhood hometown. You asked a couple of coworkers to help cover your shift and got lucky, they both agreed they could use the extra hours. It was the longest two weeks that you've ever experienced. You passed the time with some shopping for your trip. You made sure to get all the essentials, and a couple of new cute outfits to bring too. You visited your mom and told her all about your plans, she's excited for you! She even sent you off with a little extra money, just in case.

Everything appears to be falling into place. The anticipation is killing you. But you start to find yourself thinking about Eddie quite often. You thought about his dark brown eyes, and how shockingly cute he was when he smiled. Back when things got difficult with your family, Eddie was always down for some late-night talks, listening to you vent for hours sometimes.

The night before you left, you spent time packing, calling Steve, and confirming some minor details. You took a shower before bed and watched some late night TV. When you finally decide to turn in, you crawl under the comforter and try your best to get some rest. Even if you still feel a huge pit in your stomach.

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You're beginning to think you should have packed lighter as you hauled your bags down to the car. You load everything into the trunk and settle into the driver's seat. You take a deep breath and start the car, the engine roars and you hit the gas. There's no next time, it's now or never. Time to take a leap of faith and do your best to be a better friend. You might not get another chance. The sun shines through your windshield as you turn the bend, the fresh Indiana air is crisp and clean. As you see the “Welcome to Hawkins” sign, your body starts to tense up. You try to recall the directions Steve gave you in the correct order. You turned onto main street and kept on until you saw the blue apartments named “Hawkin’s Heights”. You pulled into the parking lot and backed into a parking space carefully and cut the engine. 

It took you what felt like forever to get out of the car. But after a few deep breaths and some time to mentally hype yourself up, you are ready. You walk upstairs and follow the numbers until you find apartment 106. You knock on the door and it instantly opens.

“Y/N! I’m so glad you made it!” Steve looks completely thrilled to see you. He scoops you up into a hug and pulls you inside the apartment, shutting the door behind you.

“Hi Stevie” You laughed “It’s so nice to see you!” Steve finally lets go and you recognize the other familiar face in the room. It was none other than Dustin Henderson.

“Oh my god, Dustin?! You’re like…all grown up!” You can't believe how mature he looks now. You give him a massive hug, he's taller than you now. Time sure does fly, kids sure do grow up fast. The boys head downstairs to help you lug your bags inside, thank goodness you didn't have to do that alone.

Once you get inside you notice the boys are taking your stuff down the hall, and you follow them. Once you walk through the threshold you immediately know whose room this is.

“You’ll be staying in Eddie's room. He comes back from tour in two days so you’ll see him then. I’m sure he won’t mind at all.” Steve explains so casually like it's no big deal.

“Oh god, I couldn’t just take his room. I would feel so bad. What if I take the couch?” You ask with a nervous laugh.

“Can’t, Dustin is on the couch. His mom went on this singles cruise. Even now I’m still somehow babysitting.” Steve laughs and Dustin scoffs at him. Your face turns a little red at the thought of sleeping in your high school crush’s bed.

“Don't listen to him, Y/N, my mom is just paranoid.” Dustin retorts as he follows Steve to the kitchen.

They both leave you to order some pizza and give you time to settle in. The room is truthfully very clean, there are Metal posters all over the walls, along with flyers from shows he’s played. He has some Christmas lights hanging for some ambiance. You take a seat on his queen-sized bed, it feels really comfy. The back comforter and black pillow cases were so him. There are guitars hanging on the wall, a couple of guitar stands, and amps off to the side.

I guess it can't be helped. You'll have to deal with it for now, maybe you can crash at Robin’s later. You shut the door and find yourself some lounge clothes to wear, settling on a pair of shorts and a large Metallica t-shirt. After brushing out your hair and setting out some clothes for tomorrow, you decide to join the boys in the kitchen.

“We got two large pepperoni pizzas,” Dustin announces, Steve opens two beers and offers you one. You gladly take it and grin as you see the label.

“Did you buy my favorite beer on purpose?” You ask, poking fun at how much of an accommodating host Steve can be. When the pizza arrives you all settle down in the living room and watch some late-night sitcom. Steve tells you all about the lengths he's gone to get everyone to gather here.

Nancy is coming to visit with Johnathan, they are staying with her parents. Robin has no idea you were here, Steve had to come up with some ridiculous excuse for her not to show up today. Eddie called to tell him when he would be returning in a couple of days and Steve had to play it cool like nothing was going on. He told them we were throwing a get-together at the Hideout but didn't mention you in the slightest.

“Wow…Look at you pulling all the strings.” You clapped softly and Steve took a little bow. You were truly impressed with his ability to put all of this together. “Thank you, Steve. This is so cool of you.”

“It was nothin’ really. You called and I had to make it happen.” He shrugs with a half smile. You hug your friend and decide to excuse yourself. You had a long drive and it was exhausting. You walk back to Eddie’s room to turn in for the night. When you look over at the nightstand you see a pack of cigarettes, half empty. Eddie used to bum you cigs when you hung out at his trailer. You flash back to the time your Dad was drunk and acting out, arguing with your mom. You ran off to Eddie’s place and your mom almost called the cops.

You grabbed one out of the pack and used the lighter next to the ashtray. You opened up a window and placed the cigarette between your lips and lit it. The taste was like shaking hands with an old friend. It was smooth and you almost feel bad for breaking your 3 year streak but also, one won't hurt…probably. That same nostalgic feeling you felt opening those boxes came flooding back in.

We were just teenagers, there were so many signs that he was head over heels for you but you were naive, oblivious, and it hurt you a little. Neither of you had the guts to say anything to each other. A regret that made you feel shameful to say the least. You’ve wondered if he still has feelings for you or is he off having the time of his life with his groupie fangirls?

When you try to define this feeling it's next to impossible, you feel a sense of anticipation. It's like you’re eager to relive some feelings, or longing for a simpler time. You take a few drags and try to wave the smoke and your insecurities out the window. You can't wait to see Robin tomorrow. It's time to get some sleep, you have a feeling you won't be getting much for the rest of the week.

You put out your cigarette and shut the window, turn out the light, and finally crawl under the covers. You have to admit, his bed smells really good, like fresh linen and men's cologne. It made you feel especially comfortable, and it didn't take long to ease into a deep slumber. You could get used to this kind of contentment.