#and if they are going to have me always doing automation

[girlscience]

This is the first time I have been genuinely upset by something happening at my job and it really really sucks. I don't really know how to explain in detail without people knowing about my job and coworkers, but basically myself and two others are running 2/3rds of the lab right now, and we found out yesterday that the company leadership is trying to hire 4 PhD's to take over running the lab. They are actively planning to hire people to take over our current jobs and push us down in terms of leadership and planning in the lab. Because we don't have degrees higher than bachelors. Also, when this happens they want the automation to be running 24/7 which means I will likely be pushed even farther from my current position to only running the Tecan all the time. I would actually rather die. I hate that fucking machine. I and the two others are so frustrated about this that all three of us have started looking into masters programs or PhD programs or other job opportunities since yesterday afternoon.

[jewishbuckley]

"was there a reason you didn't cancel this" honestly I thought I had so no there wasn't a reason but also if clients are going to have Your personal number and reach out to You about canceling (when they Should be reaching out via email per our cancelation policy) then You should be canceling the appt anyway imo. all the other trainers cancel their appointments AND add their appointments to the system 🤪

[thehardkandy]

something so unnerving about programming scheduled events to me. like i feel like im politely walking up to the server going like "pleaseeeeee on the 15th can you got send a lot of people emails? i would really appreciate it"

when it works it feels like there was a ghost just sitting there waiting to push a button for me

[catboybiologist]

So.

Re: tumblr bans of transfemmes.

Let's ignore PhotoMatt for a moment. Manbaby tech CEO doubling down on a stupid decision and making himself look like more of an ass doing so is not a new phenomena.

Tumblr has consistently said, in both public statements and leaked internal communication, that they're essentially running a skeleton crew.

They keep saying that they don't have the resources to moderate, manually review posts, have any kind of appeal process, or anything. So, as people have widely received communications about, they seemed to have automated a significant portion of the moderation to operate solely on the quantity of reports (probably with a basic filter, eg quantity of reports regarding a certain post, within a certain timeframe) to automatically ban or shadowban accounts.

And so, they wipe their hands, both to the users, the public, and their own consciousness, and go about their automated operations.

All of this is likely true. Tumblr, at this point, is essentially abandonware internally, a kind of weird vanity project/dumpster ground for server infrastructure for Automattic. Likely, they don't want the bad press of "shutting down" fully. Or maybe the trickle of revenue they get here just barely exceeds operating costs, so why not keep it around?

Whatever is the case, the bans are a result of an automated process working in the background. I'm giving them some benefit of the doubt here, of course, we can't know anything for certain- but it seems like the individual bans are not based on any specific, manual action.

And that doesn't fucking excuse anything.

Because at some point, multiple people sat down at tumblr, and decided how to cut costs.

And they decided that the bare minimum of report abuse prevention was one of the first things on the chopping block.

Before the boops. Before GUI reconfigures.

They decided to cut something that is necessary to manage online communities.

They decided to cut something that ensures any targeted group will have any kind of community online.

And then, after all of that, the only manual intervention is doubling down on the shitty decisions that the automated systems make, and plucking reasons out of their ass for why they were the right decisions all along.

It's pure silicon valley brain. Blame the computer often and always. Use it to shield the active decisions you made when designing the computer that way. Treat it as a fact of life as opposed to something they actively made decisions for.

Is tumblr staff hitting the banhammer on each transfemme one by one? No.

Is tumblr staff deliberately crafting a system that allows TERFs and other conservative bigots to get rid of the "undesirables" for them? Yup. But they sure as hell are trying to not say the quiet part out loud. If they can always point the finger somewhere else, to the advertisers, to the automated systems, to the TERFs, then they can always have juuusssttt enough plausible deniability.

But being the "queerest place on the internet" requires concious acknowledgement that queer people will be targets of harassment, and you will have to protect against that.

Side note, this is why I do try to keep my blog at least somewhat SFW. Its one of the main reasons why I choose not to reblog all of the posts I'm tagged in- if the post is overtly NSFW, I've probably seen it, appreciated it, and consciously decided my level of interaction with it mostly based on how "tumblr friendly" it is. Is that bowing down to them? A little. It's also my choice. I value the community I have here. The pushes that y'all have given me gave me the strength to transition, and honestly gives me a lot of motivation to research HRT biology as much as I can, among many other things.

Yeah, I post pictures that are clearly meant to be found attractive in ways that are generally not socially acceptable , but never actual NSFW. I would like to think that I'm pretty safe from bans, but hey. Who knows. I don't want to lose my follower base, and the community around it.

And yeah, I'm gonna annoyingly remind you of the other places to find me, make sure to check my pin. If you don't know where to go, just find me on reddit and go from there, I'll post about it if anything happens.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

"Don't spy on a privacy lab" (and other career advice for university provosts)

This is a wild and hopeful story: grad students at Northeastern successfully pushed back against invasive digital surveillance in their workplace, through solidarity, fearlessness, and the bright light of publicity. It’s a tale of hand-to-hand, victorious combat with the “shitty technology adoption curve.”

What’s the “shitty tech adoption curve?” It’s the process by which oppressive technologies are normalized and spread. If you want to do something awful with tech — say, spy on people with a camera 24/7 — you need to start with the people who have the least social capital, the people whose objections are easily silenced or overridden.

That’s why all our worst technologies are first imposed on refugees -> prisoners -> kids -> mental patients -> poor people, etc. Then, these technologies climb the privilege gradient: blue collar workers -> white collar workers -> everyone. Following this pathway lets shitty tech peddlers knock the rough edges off their wares, inuring us all to their shock and offense.

https://pluralistic.net/2022/08/21/great-taylors-ghost/#solidarity-or-bust

20 years ago, if you ate dinner under the unblinking eye of a CCTV, it was because you were housed in a supermax prison. Today, it’s because you were unwise enough to pay hundreds or thousands of dollars for “home automation” from Google, Apple, Amazon or another “luxury surveillance” vendor.

Northeastern’s Interdisciplinary Science and Engineering Complex (ISEC) is home to the “Cybersecurity and Privacy Institute,” where grad students study the harms of surveillance and the means by which they may be reversed. If there’s one group of people who are prepared to stand athwart the shitty tech adoption curve, it is the CPI grad students.

Which makes it genuinely baffling that Northeastern’s Senior Vice Provost for Research decided to install under-desk heat sensors throughout ISEC, overnight, without notice or consultation. The provost signed the paperwork that brought the privacy institute into being.

Students throughout ISEC were alarmed by this move, but especially students on the sixth floor, home to the Privacy Institute. When they demanded an explanation, they were told that the university was conducting a study on “desk usage.” This rang hollow: students at the Privacy Institute have assigned desks, and they badge into each room when they enter it.

As Privacy Institute PhD candidate Max von Hippel wrote, “Reader, we have assigned desks, and we use a key-card to get into the room, so, they already know how and when we use our desks.”

https://twitter.com/maxvonhippel/status/1578048837746204672

So why was the university suddenly so interested in gathering fine-grained data on desk usage? I asked von Hippel and he told me: “They are proposing that grad students share desks, taking turns with a scheduling web-app, so administrators can take over some of the space currently used by grad students. Because as you know, research always works best when you have to schedule your thinking time.”

That’s von Hippel’s theory, and I’m going to go with it, because the provost didn’t offer a better one in the flurry of memos and “listening sessions” that took place after the ISEC students arrived at work one morning to discover sensors under their desks.

This is documented in often hilarious detail in von Hippel’s thread on the scandal, in which the university administrators commit a series of unforced errors and the grad students run circles around them, in a comedy of errors straight out of “Animal House.”

https://twitter.com/maxvonhippel/status/1578048652215431168

After the sensors were discovered, the students wrote to the administrators demanding their removal, on the grounds that there was no scientific purpose for them, that they intimidated students, that they were unnecessary, and that the university had failed to follow its own rules and ask the Institutional Review Board (IRB) to review the move as a human-subjects experiment.

The letter was delivered to the provost, who offered “an impromptu listening session” in which he alienated students by saying that if they trusted the university to “give” them a degree, they should trust it to surveil them. The students bristled at this characterization, noting that students deliver research (and grant money) to “make it tick.”

[Image ID: Sensors arrayed around a kitchen table at ISEC]

The students, believing the provost was not taking them seriously, unilaterally removed all the sensors, and stuck them to their kitchen table, annotating and decorating them with Sharpie. This prompted a second, scheduled “listening session” with the provost, but this session, while open to all students, was only announced to their professors (“Beware of the leopard”).

The students got wind of this, printed up fliers and made sure everyone knew about it. The meeting was packed. The provost explained to students that he didn’t need IRB approval for his sensors because they weren’t “monitoring people.” A student countered, what was being monitored, “if not people?” The provost replied that he was monitoring “heat sources.”

https://github.com/maxvonhippel/isec-sensors-scandal/blob/main/Oct_6_2022_Luzzi_town_hall.pdf

Remember, these are grad students. They asked the obvious question: which heat sources are under desks, if not humans (von Hippel: “rats or kangaroos?”). The provost fumbled for a while (“a service animal or something”) before admitting, “I guess, yeah, it’s a human.”

Having yielded the point, the provost pivoted, insisting that there was no privacy interest in the data, because “no individual data goes back to the server.” But these aren’t just grad students — they’re grad students who specialize in digital privacy. Few people on earth are better equipped to understand re-identification and de-aggregation attacks.

[Image ID: A window with a phrase written in marker, ‘We are not doing science here’ -Luzzi.]

A student told the provost, “This doesn’t matter. You are monitoring us, and collecting data for science.” The provost shot back, “we are not doing science here.” This ill-considered remark turned into an on-campus meme. I’m sure it was just blurted in the heat of the moment, but wow, was that the wrong thing to tell a bunch of angry scientists.

From the transcript, it’s clear that this is where the provost lost the crowd. He accused the students of “feeling emotion” and explaining that the data would be used for “different kinds of research. We want to see how students move around the lab.”

Now, as it happens, ISEC has an IoT lab where they take these kinds of measurements. When they do those experiments, students are required to go through IRB, get informed consent, all the stuff that the provost had bypassed. When this is pointed out, the provost says that they had been given an IRB waiver by the university’s Human Research Protection Program (HRPP).

Now a prof gets in on the action, asking, pointedly: “Is the only reason it doesn’t fall under IRB is that the data will not be published?” A student followed up by asking how the university could justify blowing $50,000 on surveillance gear when that money would have paid for a whole grad student stipend with money left over.

The provost’s answers veer into the surreal here. He points out that if he had to hire someone to monitor the students’ use of their desks, it would cost more than $50k, implying that the bill for the sensors represents a cost-savings. A student replies with the obvious rejoinder — just don’t monitor desk usage, then.

Finally, the provost started to hint at the underlying rationale for the sensors, discussing the cost of the facility to the university and dangling the possibility of improving utilization of “research assets.” A student replies, “If you want to understand how research is done, don’t piss off everyone in this building.”

Now that they have at least a vague explanation for what research question the provost is trying to answer, the students tear into his study design, explaining why he won’t learn what he’s hoping to learn. It’s really quite a good experimental design critique — these are good students! Within a few volleys, they’re pointing out how these sensors could be used to stalk researchers and put them in physical danger.

The provost turns the session over to an outside expert via a buggy Zoom connection that didn’t work. Finally, a student asks whether it’s possible that this meeting could lead to them having a desk without a sensor under it. The provost points out that their desk currently doesn’t have a sensor (remember, the students ripped them out). The student says, “I assume you’ll put one back.”

[Image ID: A ‘public art piece’ in the ISEC lobby — a table covered in sensors spelling out ‘NO!,’ surrounded by Sharpie annotations decrying the program.]

They run out of time and the meeting breaks up. Following this, the students arrange the sensors into a “public art piece” in the lobby — a table covered in sensors spelling out “NO!,” surrounded by Sharpie annotations decrying the program.

Meanwhile, students are still furious. It’s not just that the sensors are invasive, nor that they are scientifically incoherent, nor that they cost more than a year’s salary — they also emit lots of RF noise that interferes with the students’ own research. The discussion spills onto Reddit:

https://www.reddit.com/r/NEU/comments/xx7d7p/northeastern_graduate_students_privacy_is_being/

Yesterday, the provost capitulated, circulating a memo saying they would pull “all the desk occupancy sensors from the building,” due to “concerns voiced by a population of graduate students.”

https://twitter.com/maxvonhippel/status/1578101964960776192

The shitty technology adoption curve is relentless, but you can’t skip a step! Jumping straight to grad students (in a privacy lab) without first normalizing them by sticking them on the desks of poor kids in underfunded schools (perhaps after first laying off a computer science teacher to free up the budget!) was a huge tactical error.

A more tactically sound version of this is currently unfolding at CMU Computer Science, where grad students have found their offices bugged with sensors that detect movement and collect sound:

https://twitter.com/davidthewid/status/1387909329710366721

The CMU administration has wisely blamed the presence of these devices on the need to discipline low-waged cleaning staff by checking whether they’re really vacuuming the offices.

https://twitter.com/davidthewid/status/1387426812972646403

While it’s easier to put cleaners under digital surveillance than computer scientists, trying to do both at once is definitely a boss-level challenge. You might run into a scholar like David Gray Widder, who, observing that “this seems like algorithmic management of lowly paid employees to me,” unplugged the sensor in his office.

https://twitter.com/davidthewid/status/1387909329710366721

This is the kind of full-stack Luddism this present moment needs. These researchers aren’t opposed to sensors — they’re challenging the social relations of sensors, who gets sensed and who does the sensing.

https://locusmag.com/2022/01/cory-doctorow-science-fiction-is-a-luddite-literature/

[Image ID: A flier inviting ISEC grad students to attend an unadvertised 'listening session' with the vice-provost. It is surmounted with a sensor that has been removed from beneath a desk and annotated in Sharpie to read: 'If found by David Luzzi suck it.']

[be-good-to-bugs]

EDS SUCKS

[kentobb]

The Bet (Part Seven)

Characters: College! Sukuna x Female Reader

Genre: Angst

Warnings: *Sigh* Pure Angst, Jealousy, Alcohol, Mentions of Drunk people?, Foul Language, Suggestive, Smut (Theres not but theres a suggestive part so…might as well categorized it like that), etc.

Author’s Note: I know I said that I will see you guys in a few days. But I was in my break in the airplane and wrote this piece of art. 🩷 Next chapter in a few days. But let me know what you think is going to happened next :)

Part 01

Days passed, and everything seemed to spiral further into despair for Sukuna. He had tried calling you countless times, but each attempt was met with the same automated message: "Sorry, the person you're calling is not available. Please leave a message after the beep."

"Hey, it's me again…please, call me back. Let’s talk.” Sukuna's voice broke as he left yet another voicemail, the pain evident in his words. But there was no response. His text messages, too, were left on "delivered," never receiving a reply.

He clutched the heart locket you had returned to him in such pain, now worn around his own neck, a constant reminder of the love he had lost. Each day without you felt like an eternity, and the absence of your presence in his life was a gaping void that consumed him.

What hurt the most was that you hadn’t been attending class for the past week. He looked for you everywhere—your usual seat in the lecture hall, the library corner where you loved to study—but you were nowhere to be found. The halls felt emptier without you, and summer break loomed just around the corner, only amplifying his sense of urgency and despair.

His brothers had tried their best to comfort him. They sat with him, talked to him, tried to distract him with jokes and stories. But it was useless. Sukuna's mind was consumed with thoughts of you, replaying every moment you had shared, every word he wished he could take back.

Yuuji walked into Sukuna's room one evening, finding him sitting on his bed, staring at his phone. "Hey, any luck?" Yuuji asked, though he already knew the answer.

Sukuna shook his head, his eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and frustration. "No. She’s not answering. I don't know what to do.”

Yuuji sat beside him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You just have to give her time, Sukuna. She needs to process everything.”

"But what if she never forgives me? What if I've lost her forever?" Sukuna's voice was barely a whisper, his fear palpable.

Choso joined them, leaning against the doorframe. "You haven't lost her yet. Just keep trying, keep showing her that you care. She'll come around."

Sukuna nodded, though his heart felt heavy. "I hope you're right."

Days turned into nights, each one blending into the next in a blur of unanswered calls and unspoken words. Sukuna spent his time going through the motions, attending practice, going to class, but his mind was always elsewhere. He found himself constantly touching the locket around his neck, seeking solace in its presence.

Summer break was only a weekend away, and the impending separation from the campus only added to his anxiety. He feared that the distance would only widen the gap between them, making it even harder to reach you.

One evening, as he sat alone in his room, Sukuna decided to leave one more message. "Hey, it's me. I just wanted to say I'm sorry again. I miss you so much. Please, call me back when you can. I love you."

He hung up, feeling the familiar ache in his chest. He lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling, the silence of his room echoing his loneliness.

His brothers found him there, a picture of heartbreak. They exchanged worried glances, unsure of how to help him. Yuuji sat beside him, while Choso leaned against the wall, both trying to offer their silent support.

"We're here for you, Sukuna," Yuuji said softly. "No matter what happens."

Sukuna nodded, his throat tight with emotion. "Thanks," he whispered, though he couldn't shake the overwhelming sadness that clung to him.

As the days crept closer to summer break, the weight of your absence grew heavier. Sukuna knew he had to find a way to make things right, but he felt lost, unsure of how to bridge the chasm that had formed between you.

He held onto the hope that you would eventually hear his messages, read his texts, and remember the love you had shared. Until then, he would keep trying, keep waiting, and keep believing that somehow, you could find the way back to each other.

One evening, just as he was about to send yet another unanswered message, there was a knock on his door. Sukuna hesitated, his heart pounding with a mix of hope and fear. When he opened the door, he found Gojo standing there, looking uncertain and hesitant.

"Sukuna," Gojo began, his voice wavering slightly. "Can I come in?”

For a moment, Sukuna stood still, his emotions swirling. He didn't know if he was mad at Gojo for telling Mei Mei, or if he was mad at the situation itself. But then he saw the genuine worry and regret in Gojo's eyes, and he managed a soft, weary smile. "Yeah, come in."

Gojo stepped inside, his usual confident demeanor replaced with a rare vulnerability. He sat down, fidgeting nervously. "Look, I just... I wanted to say I'm sorry. I messed up. I shouldn't have said anything to Mei Mei. I didn't think—"

Sukuna held up a hand, stopping him. "Don’t. It’s okay.”

Gojo's eyes widened in surprise. "You're not mad at me?"

Sukuna shook his head. "No, I'm not mad at you. I’m just... tired. Tired of everything. It was my fault too…”

Gojo's shoulders sagged with relief, but the guilt still lingered in his eyes. "I really am sorry, Sukuna. I never wanted to hurt you. You're my best friend."

Sukuna nodded, feeling a tightness in his chest. "I know, Gojo. I know. It's just been really hard."

There was a heavy silence between them, filled with unspoken words and shared pain. Finally, Gojo cleared his throat. "Look, I know this might not be the best time, but I think you need a break. Mahito's throwing a summer break party, and I think you should come."

Sukuna frowned, shaking his head. "I don't think that's a good idea. I don't feel like partying."

Gojo leaned forward, his eyes pleading. "Just think about it, okay? You need a distraction, something to take your mind off things, even if it's just for a little while."

Sukuna sighed, running a hand through his hair. The thought of going to a party felt overwhelming, but he couldn't deny that he needed to escape his own thoughts, if only for a few hours. "I don't know, Gojo..."

"Please," Gojo insisted, his voice softening. "Just give it a try. You don't have to stay long. Just come and see if it helps. You can't keep torturing yourself like this."

Sukuna hesitated, but the look in Gojo's eyes, filled with genuine concern and friendship, swayed him. He nodded slowly. "Just for a little while."

A smile broke out on Gojo's face, a mix of relief and hope. "That's all I ask. Thanks, bro."

As they prepared to leave for the party, Sukuna felt a small flicker of something he hadn't felt in days—a glimmer of hope. He knew that it wouldn't solve everything, but maybe, just maybe, it would help him start to heal.

Sukuna arrived at Mahito’s party, the pulsating music and thrumming energy immediately overwhelming his senses. The house was packed with people, bodies dancing against each other, the air thick with the scent of sweat and alcohol. He made his way to one of the sofas where his teammates were lounging, drinking and laughing. Yuuji and Choso were already there, engaged in animated conversation.

Sukuna plopped down on the sofa, grabbing a drink from the table in front of him. As he took a sip, he noticed several of his teammates with their girlfriends, their laughter and affectionate touches reminding him painfully of what he had lost. He felt a pang of hurt, wishing you were there with him, remembering how it felt to have you by his side.

As the night wore on and the drinks flowed, Sukuna found his gaze wandering toward the door. He watched idly as new arrivals trickled in, but then his heart nearly stopped when he saw who walked in.

First, there was a girl with fiery orange hair, wearing a stylish outfit that accentuated her bold personality—Nobara. She exuded confidence, her eyes scanning the room with an assertive gaze. Beside her was a tall, brooding figure with dark, messy hair—Megumi. His demeanor was quiet and reserved, yet there was a certain intensity in his eyes.

But it was the third person who made Sukuna’s breath catch in his throat. It was you.

His eyes widened, and his heart pounded in his chest. What are you doing here? This… this isn’t the place for you. Why would you be here?

You wore a stunning red dress that hugged your curves, the short hemline showing off your legs, and the neckline revealing just enough to make his mouth go dry. Your makeup was flawless, enhancing your natural beauty, and your hair was styled elegantly. You carried a small red purse, completing the look.

Sukuna could hardly believe his eyes. He had never seen you like this. You looked scared, nervous at your surroundings.

As you walked in, people turned to look at you, some even whistling appreciatively. Sukuna felt a surge of jealousy and protectiveness. He didn’t like the way others were looking at you, the way they seemed to undress you with their eyes.

You hadn’t noticed him yet, your attention focused on Nobara and Megumi as they led you toward the mini bar. Sukuna shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his eyes never leaving yours.

Nobara, with her usual flair, seemed to be showing you the ropes, gesturing animatedly as she explained the different drinks. Sukuna’s mind raced. He knew you had never drunk alcohol in your life. This was all new to you, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that you were out of place, that you didn’t belong in this chaotic environment.

As he watched you, he felt a mix of emotions—jealousy, worry, longing. He wanted to protect you, to pull you away from the prying eyes and the potentially harmful influences. But he also knew he had no right to do so, not after what had happened.

Sukuna's eyes followed your every move, noting the way you hesitated before accepting a drink from Nobara, your expression a mix of curiosity and apprehension. He wanted to rush over, to tell you that you didn’t have to do this, but he stayed rooted to his seat, torn between his desire to see you and his fear of making things worse.

His teammates continued their banter, oblivious to his inner turmoil. Gojo, noticing his distracted state, leaned over and followed his gaze. “Isn’t that…?” Gojo trailed off, his eyes widening in realization.

“Yeah,” Sukuna replied, his voice tight. “It’s her.”

Gojo glanced back at Sukuna, his expression concerned. “What are you going to do?”

Sukuna didn’t answer immediately. He watched as you took a tentative sip of your drink, your face scrunching up at the unfamiliar taste. Nobara laughed, patting your on the back, while Megumi watched with an amused smirk.

Summoning his courage, Sukuna stood up and began to walk towards you. Nobara, sensing his approach, quickly stepped in front of you, blocking his path.

“She doesn’t want to speak to you,” Nobara said firmly, crossing her arms over her chest.

Sukuna's eyes narrowed slightly, but he kept his voice steady. “Who are you?”

Nobara glared at him, her stance protective. “She’s not your girlfriend anymore, Sukuna.”

Ignoring Nobara's words, Sukuna took another step closer, his determination unwavering. Just then, Megumi stepped in, his presence imposing. “You heard her. Back off,” Megumi said, trying to intimidate Sukuna.

Sukuna glanced at Megumi, a small, defiant smirk forming on his lips. “Nice hair, douchebag. Does it come with instructions?”

Megumi's eyes flashed with annoyance, but before he could retort, you spoke up, your voice cutting through the tension. “It’s okay.”

Nobara and Megumi exchanged worried glances, but reluctantly stepped aside, giving Sukuna the space to approach you. You looked at him, your eyes filled with a mix of emotions—anger, hurt, and something else he couldn’t quite place.

Sukuna took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest. “I know you don’t want to talk to me.”

You glanced back at Nobara and Megumi, who gave you encouraging nods before moving a little farther away, giving you some privacy while still keeping a watchful eye.

“Oh wow” you said finally, your voice steady but guarded. “Did you figure that by yourself?”

The tension between you was palpable, and Sukuna struggled to keep his emotions in check. He couldn't believe you were here, dressed so beautifully, yet so different from the girl he had known. It was as if you had transformed overnight, and it hurt to see you this way—so distant and angry.

"Why are you here?" Sukuna asked, his voice edged with frustration. "This isn’t your scene."

You met his gaze defiantly, your eyes flashing with determination. "Isn’t that obvious? I came here to have fun.”

His eyes widened in disbelief. "To have fun? This isn't like you. You don’t need to change yourself to fit in here."

You scoffed, shaking your head. "You don’t know me. You’re just some dude who got into my pants for what? A hundred bucks? Turns out I don’t know you either.”

As you turned to walk away, Sukuna instinctively reached out and grabbed your hand, trying to hold you back. "You do know me. And I know you. And I know that this… isn’t you.”

You yanked your arm away, your eyes cold and unyielding. “Fuck you, Sukuna.”

He looked at you angrily, his grip tightening for a moment before he let you go. "Fine," he said through gritted teeth. "Go ahead and have your fun."

“Oh I will, just watch closely.” You turned your back on him, joining Nobara and Megumi, who had been watching the exchange with wary eyes. The party around you started to intensify, the music growing louder, the crowd more energetic. A popular song blasted through the speakers, and everyone began to dance.

Sukuna stood back, watching as you moved to the rhythm with Nobara. He saw you taking shot after shot, your laughter ringing out as you lost yourself in the moment. It was clear you were trying to drown out the pain, but it only made Sukuna more anxious. He didn’t touch a drop of alcohol, too focused on keeping an eye on you.

His anger simmered as he watched you, feeling helpless. This wasn’t you, he thought. This wasn’t the girl he fell in love with. You were trying to become someone else, someone he knew you wasn’t.

The party continued, and a group of boys from the soccer team entered, their presence adding to the already chaotic atmosphere. Among them was Ino, the team captain. Sukuna recognized him immediately—Ino was known for his charm and confidence, a guy who could have any girl he wanted.

Ino’s eyes landed on you, and Sukuna saw him asking around about you. His jaw clenched as he overheard bits of their conversation.

"Who’s she?" Ino asked one of his teammates, nodding in your direction. "I’ve never seen her before."

"Not sure," the teammate replied. "But damn, she’s hot. Definitely new."

Sukuna’s grip tightened on his drink, the plastic cup crumpling in his hand. He wanted to march over there, to tell Ino to back off, but he knew it would only make things worse.

Ino watched you make your way to the bar, probably asking for more shots for yourself and Nobara. His interest piqued, he took his own shot, quickly following you. Meanwhile, Sukuna stood at a distance, trying to control the storm of jealousy and anger brewing inside him. He kept his eyes fixed on you and Ino, his fists clenched tightly.

As Ino reached the bar, he slid up next to you with a charming smile. "Hey there," he said smoothly. "I don't think I've seen you around before. What's your name?"

You turned to him, your eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and alcohol. "This is my first party," you replied with a giggle.

Ino raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Your first party, huh? Well, you’re definitely making an impression."

You laughed, leaning in a bit closer. “Well, I hope so.” You said, your thoughts filled with alcohol.

Ino grinned, enjoying the attention. "Well, you’ve got the right idea. I’m Ino, by the way."

You smiled, eyes darting to where Sukuna stood, watching him intently. You saw the anger simmering in his gaze, and a mischievous glint appeared in your eyes. You wanted to provoke him, to make him react. You leaned in closer to Ino, whispering something in his ear that made him blush.

Sukuna saw this and felt his control slipping. He couldn't just stand there and watch you flirt with some guy. His jealousy and anger reached a boiling point, and he marched over to the bar, his eyes locked on you.

"Hey, what do you think you’re doing?" Sukuna demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

Ino turned to face him, a smirk playing on his lips. "Just having a conversation. Is that a problem, bro?"

You looked at Sukuna, your expression challenging. "We're just talking, Sukuna. Or do you have a problem with that?"

Sukuna’s jaw tightened. "Yeah, I do have a problem. I don't like seeing my girl flirt with some random guy."

Ino raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin widening. "Whoa, whoa. I didn’t know she was your girl. She didn’t mention anything about having a boyfriend."

You crossed your arms, leaning against the bar. "That's because I don’t. We’re not together anymore, remember? I would bet a hundred bucks that you do remember that.”

Sukuna took a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “We may not be together right now, but that doesn’t mean I’m just going to stand by and watch this."

Ino chuckled, clearly enjoying the tension. "Looks like you’ve got some competition, Sukuna. Maybe you should step up your game."

Sukuna’s eyes flashed with anger. "Back off, Ino. This isn’t a game."

Ino shrugged, clearly unbothered. "Whatever you say, man. But from where I’m standing, it looks like she’s having a good time without you, am I right princess?”

Sukuna's anger boiled over as he squared off with Ino. "Back off now, or I swear, I'll punch you," Sukuna threatened, his voice low and menacing.

Ino smirked, clearly unfazed. "You think you can intimidate me? Bring it on, man."

Their argument escalated, voices rising above the din of the party. You rolled your eyes at their macho display and decided to walk away, leaving the two boys to their petty fight. You made your way back to Nobara, who was already at the bar, affected by the alcohol as well.

Sukuna saw you leave, realizing what you successfully did, his anger boiling, he quickly turned away from Ino. Who cursed under his breath as Sukuna left him talking to himself, feeling the sting of being ignored.

At the bar, you started taking shots one after another, trying to drown your feelings in alcohol. The music thumped through your body, the lights blurring together as you downed another shot. Your head felt light, limbs heavy, and your vision wavered. You felt a strange mixture of euphoria and disorientation, the world spinning around you in a dizzying dance.

Everything felt distant, like you were floating. You laughed more freely, but there was a desperation to it, a need to escape the pain that lingered in your heart. You leaned on the bar for support, your mind foggy and your thoughts jumbled. You didn’t realize just how drunk you were, caught up in the haze of alcohol.

Sukuna watched you from across the room, his concern growing with every shot you took. He knew you were pushing yourself too far, and he couldn't stand by any longer. He made his way over to you, his heart pounding with worry.

"It's time to leave," Sukuna said firmly, his grip on your arm gentle but unyielding.

You tried to pull away from his grip, your movements sluggish and uncoordinated. "No, I’m having fun. Let me go.”

Sukuna tightened his grip slightly, ensuring you couldn’t slip away. "You're drunk. You need to go home."

You stumbled, your balance unsteady. "I’m fine, let me go!" You slurred, your eyes struggling to focus on him.

Sukuna looked around for help and spotted Choso nearby. "Choso! I need your help," he called out.

Choso quickly made his way over, his concern evident. "What’s up?"

"Help me get Nobara. She’s drunk too," Sukuna said, nodding toward Nobara, who was barely standing.

Choso nodded and went to help Nobara, who leaned heavily on him, giggling uncontrollably. Sukuna kept a firm hold on you, guiding you carefully through the crowd. He searched for Yuuji, needing his help to manage the situation, but Yuuji was nowhere to be found.

Sukuna and Choso managed to get you and Nobara to his car. He gently placed you in the passenger seat, where you immediately fell asleep, head lolling against the window. Choso helped Nobara into the backseat, where she too quickly succumbed to sleep.

"Where the hell is Yuuji?" Sukuna muttered, frustration evident in his voice.

"Let’s look for him quickly," Choso suggested, scanning the crowd.

They headed back into the party, looking for any sign of Yuuji. Sukuna opened one of the doors, and his eyes widened at the sight of Yuuji and Megumi making out passionately. Neither of them noticed Sukuna, too wrapped up in each other.

Sukuna backed out quietly, closing the door behind him. He returned to Choso, shaking his head. "I couldn’t find him," he lied, unwilling to expose his brother's private moment.

Choso sighed. "Alright, let’s get them back to the dorm. I’ll text Yuuji and let him know."

They returned to the car, and Choso pulled out his phone, quickly typing a message to Yuuji: "We’re heading back to the dorm. Everyone’s safe. See you later."

Sukuna started the car and began the drive back to the dorms, the weight of the night pressing heavily on him. He glanced at your sleeping form beside him, his heart aching with regret and worry. He hoped that once you sobered up, you could talk properly, and he could begin to mend the rift between you.

Choso stayed silent during the ride, sensing Sukuna’s turmoil. The streets were quiet, the night air cool and soothing. When they finally reached the dorms, Sukuna parked and carefully carried you inside of his dorm, with Choso doing the same for Nobara.

Choso gently laid Nobara down on the sofa, tucking a blanket around her to keep her warm. He glanced over at Sukuna, who was carefully carrying you to his bed. Sukuna placed you down gently, pulling the blanket over you and brushing a strand of hair from your face.

Choso looked back at Nobara, shaking his head slightly. “Yuuji still isn’t answering,” he said, a hint of worry in his voice.

Sukuna smirked, trying to lighten the mood. “He was kind of busy,” he said teasingly.

Choso frowned in confusion but then shrugged it off, too tired to ask for clarification. He put a glass of water and some ibuprofen on the coffee table for Nobara for when she woke up. “She’s going to need this in the morning,” he muttered.

Sukuna nodded, grateful for his brother’s thoughtfulness. “Thanks, Choso.”

With a sigh, Sukuna made his way back to his room, pausing at the doorway. He saw you sitting up in his bed, looking around the room with bleary eyes. You were clearly still drunk, your movements unsteady.

“Go back to sleep,” Sukuna said softly, his voice filled with concern.

You didn’t listen, your gaze finally landing on him. “Kuna,” you whispered, using the nickname you had given him. The sound of it melted his heart, bringing back a flood of memories.

You stood up, wobbling slightly, and walked toward him. Despite your drunken state, he could see the pain in your eyes, the hurt you were trying to drown out with alcohol. You reached him and began pushing him angrily, your fists hitting his chest.

Sukuna stood still, letting you vent your anger. He didn’t move an inch, your punches not having any effect, but knowing you needed to get it out. You were stronger than you looked, but not enough to physically hurt him. But he deserved anything you threw at him.

“You hurt me,” you cried, your voice breaking. “You broke my heart.” You punched again, “You used me!”

“I know,” he whispered, his own eyes filling with tears. “I’m so sorry.”

You continued to hit him, your punches growing weaker as you started to sob. Sukuna finally reached out, pulling you into a tight embrace. You struggled at first, but then collapsed against him, your sobs shaking your small frame.

“I’m so sorry,” Sukuna repeated, holding you close. “I never meant to hurt you.”

You looked up at him, tears streaming down your face. Your eyes were filled with so much pain, it broke his heart all over again. And then, without warning, you kissed him. Your lips were desperate and passionate, and Sukuna couldn’t help but kiss you back.

For a moment, everything else faded away. It was just the two of you, locked in a kiss that was both familiar and new. But then he felt your hands toying with the belt of his pants, and he knew what you were trying to do. He gently grabbed your wrists, stopping you.

“Hey,” he said softly, pulling back slightly and feeling the alcohol on your lips. “You’re drunk. You’re not conscious.”

You began to cry again, burying your face in his chest. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I just… I miss you so much.”

“I miss you too,” he said, his voice choked with emotion.

He guided you back to the bed, laying you down gently. You clung to him, your tears soaking his shirt. Sukuna climbed in beside you, pulling you close. He began to caress your hair, his touch soothing.

“Shh,” he whispered. “It’s okay. I’m here. Just sleep.”

You rested your head on his chest, your breathing slowly evening out as you drifted off to sleep in your drunken state. Sukuna continued to stroke your hair, his heart aching. He had missed this—holding you, comforting you, being close to you.

As you slept, Sukuna thought about everything that had happened. The bet, the breakup, the pain he had caused you. He knew he had a long road ahead if he wanted to earn your trust back, but he was determined to do it. He loves you, and he would do whatever it took to make things right.

But he just hopes that when you wake up tomorrow, you still miss him.

Comments, notes and reblogs are appreciated <3

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Someone New 5

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include angst, pining, romcom tropes, and some darker elements later in the series. Some triggers may not be specifically tagged. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This fic will contain explicit content. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’ve had a crush on your best friend for years, but you’re slapped in the face with reality when he takes things to the next level with his girlfriend.

Characters: Steve Rogers, Thor

Note: Tuesday! Ugh.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

It’s nearly midnight in Norway by the time you’re free of the airport. The train station isn’t far; it’s part of the airport. You wait on a bench between the rails as your boarding is two hours away. You sit with your luggage and mope. This new land only adds to the gloom clinging to you. 

You shiver as a draft flows down the tunnel. Not only is grey and grim, but it’s cold. It’s almost June but the weather is more akin to the cusp of winter and spring back home.  

Your weeks of research couldn’t prepare you for the real things. All that anticipation could never compare to that moment of desolation; alone in this far land, away from everything you knew. Everything around you is new and foreign and unwelcoming. 

When the train pulls up, you wait in queue with the other passengers. Some are native, speaking in lilted English or indecipherable Norwegian. Duolingo hasn’t done much for you as you catch only scraps of pronouns and verbs. Others are new arrivals like yourself but they seem much more certain of themselves. You feel utterly lost. 

You show your ticket and board. You tuck your bag away with the larger pieces kept at the front of the carriage and hug your carry-on in your lap. You stare out the window as the train begins to roll on the tracks, screeching as it pulls out into the black night of this strange land. 

The subtle rumble of the locomotive lulls you into a half-sleep. Your head is wrought with the ache of your building hangover and twisted visions of the life left behind. You hear Steve’s final goodbye, you feel the hug that was snugger on your end than his, and you feel the razor of Peggy’s spiteful eye. Even in a stupour, you can’t forget it. You hope Sam is right and that it will fade with time, yet you fear it might all be gone for good. 

You wake as the automated voice announces your stop as the next one. You sit up and rub the sleep from your eyes. You’re trying to be optimistic. Just focus on work. That’s what this is all about. Everyone keeps saying it and you haven’t heard any of them. This is a great opportunity. What you’ve been hoping for all these years. How did you forget that?  

You disembark and drag your bag behind your heavy feet. You’re exhausted but you still have a trek to go. Everything looks so different than back home. Small differences but enough to reinforce your displacement. 

You find the rental car kiosk at the other end of the station and show your reservation. Work is paying for that too. Apparently, you’ll need it to get to the site. Another harbinger of desolation. 

You hook up your phone to the built-in bluetooth and tap the address already saved in your maps. The app takes a moment to recenter and finally, you’re off. You wonder if you should even be driving. You’re definitely not drunk anymore but you’re barely awake. 

It’s only an hours ride across the city, just along the ridges that look off onto the coast. It’s beautiful. You can see that even through your melancholy.  

The morning rises as you get your key to the blue paneled townhouse. You should try to stay up to reset your clock but you’re jet lagged to the bone. The moment the door is locked, you let your bags fall to the floor and stumble through to the first piece of furniture you see. You collapse face first onto the couch, unable to feel the impact as you plummet into a deep sleep. 

Time, space, and all your pain disappears. There is only the endless void of fatigue. Your mind is too tired to summon nightmares or nonsensical visions. Your body is so drained that even your brain is empty. 

You wake on your arm, fingers tingling painfully as your shoulder muscles burn. You hiss and sit up. The bend of your fingers and a shaky attempt to move your elbow make you whine. Ugh. You rub feeling back into the limb as you lean against the back of the couch. 

You look around, finally able to take it all in. The house is neat and sleek. White plaster and pale wood finishes. The couch you sit on is a sectional and there’s a match ottoman across from you. The TV mounted on the wall reflects the shadow of the archway behind you and the tall lamp in the corner and the stone and marble ornaments. 

You rise, wobbling on your legs, and put your arms out to get your bearings. You meander through the townhouse. You can hardly admire the furnished interior as it underlines your loneliness. All this space for just you. 

There’s a kitchen at the rear of the house, a large wooden island standing center to a fridge with a glass door and polished counters carved in granite. The tiles are pristinely placed diamonds in hexagons and a large window looks out into the rain-soaked yard. It’s night again, or maybe that’s what the daylight looks like here. 

Upstairs, there’s a bedroom and a bathroom. A full tub and separate shower, two sinks set into a sparkling counter, and a wall of mirrors above them. It truly is a dream but why doesn’t it feel like it? 

You amble down stairs and fish out your phone. The battery is at eight percent. You have several texts. All from Sam. You only remember then why you don’t see any from Steve. No, you won’t check. 

You quickly type that you’ve landed safely and set the cell down. You’ll let it die before you plug back in. You need time. You need to get yourself straight. You need to accept that this is all real. You made this choice.  

You’re starting over. It’s a new life and there’s no room for your heart here. 

💟

You have the night to unpack, more than just your luggage. Still, there are things you can’t let out. Not yet. As much as the blade twists in your chest, taking it out will mean a deluge you can’t quell. For now, you just won’t think about it. 

You sleep a few more hours and wake just before six. You have your bag ready to go for the day. You tie on your boots and pull on a lined jacket before braving the Norwegian summer. You lock the door behind you and yawn into the brisk air. 

Before you head for the site, you stop at a cafe you see along the way. You get an egg biscuit and a coffee with extra espresso. You’re sure to add on a snack to eat between your work. 

You drive towards the greater mountains and turn onto the road that angles up the side. You follow the curved ledge as the GPS guides you through the car speakers. The drive is two hours up, maybe a bit quicker on the way down. Suddenly, a ping sounds from the system and you glance at the screen; ‘signal lost’. Shoot. It’s okay. You think you’re almost there. 

You pull over, not that there’s much space to do so. You have the physical maps you’ll use for the work itself. You find yourself amid the lines and symbols and memorise the path forward. You continue on cautiously, reassured as you’re met with a sign that delineates the site. The plot has already been closed off with a fence. 

‘Grant land. No trespassing.’ 

You park just outside the fencing and grab your bag and your breakfast. You sit on the hood and eat as you look over the muddy site. You read the grant report. It’s here they think there was a settlement. Not a very big one but an important one.  

The rock wall hugs the site in an almost perfect basin as the slick land is barren of almost any growth. You’ll start with gridding it all out, both with string and on paper. You clap your hands off and get up to begin. The process will keep your distracted. 

You put your earbud in and set to task. You pause to sip coffee and mark the paper between planting the stakes and the string the twine to divvy it all up in squares. You watch where you put each step, the mud sucking at your treads. A wet site is never an easy one. 

It takes the first day just to prep for digging and you don’t even think you’re done. You’re tired and achy and ready to go home. It’ll take you nearly three hours back by your guess. The night will be a short one as you figure you’ll need to head out earlier, especially if you hope to take advantage of the fleeting sunlight. 

As you get back to the townhouse, it’s night again. You walk down to a fish restaurant just a block away. The faces are friendly and the food is good, but it all seems so bland. You eat and go back to your accommodation. Not home, just a place to lay your head. 

You check your phone. Back amid the world of the living, you have a dozen messages; Sam, Bucky, your mom, Arturo. You respond to each of them in turn, assuring them that all is well. You don’t have the energy for much more. 

Yet it isn’t up to you. Your phone chimes at you as you near the bed, sitting on the edge as you answer. You know with Sam that ignoring him will only make him worse. 

“Hey,” you answer with an unrestrained yawn. 

“Yo, how ya feeling?” he asks. 

“Erm, tired,” you lean forward, crossing and arm over your knees. “How are things there?” 

“Eh, usual. So, uh, did that paradise punch knock you on your ass too or am I getting old?” He chuckles. 

“Heh, yeah, no I’m feeling it still,” you mutter. 

“Mm, it’s late there...” he says, “sorry, if I’m keeping you up.” 

“No, it’s fine. Just... a lot of driving.” 

“Oh? You worked today?” 

“Wanted to get a head start,” you shrug as you play with the fold of your pajamas across your knee. 

“How is it? Is it bleak? Cold? Are the men gruff?” 

“Uh, yeah, I guess. Grey. Bit chilly but it’s not bad around noon,” you say dully, “haven’t seen much of the locals. With how long it takes me to get up the mountain...” 

“Oh, a mountain,” he echoes enthusiastically, “that’s exciting.” 

“I guess. Eats away the day.” 

“I’m sure,” he agrees glumly, “hey, don’t forget to treat yourself. Take a weekend off and hit that spa.” 

“I will. I just got here.” 

“Well, we all miss you,” he says. “Bucky especially. We got in a huge blow out the other day over the string in his hoodie.” 

“Of course you did,” you can’t help but laugh. 

“Really, I didn’t do anything. I was trying to fix it and it just... slipped inside, I don’t know. I don’t think it was about the string,” he snickers. “Probably having to deal with Steve and his--” Sam stops himself, “sorry.” 

“What? No, it’s fine. Really. I came out here to get away but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t exist.” 

“I know but you’re tryna forget him. Like you should,” Sam insists. “And he’ll realise soon enough what he missed out on all these years. And you need to do the same. Go out, explore, enjoy it. You’ll need to have some good stories to bring back to us here, we’re dying of boredom without you.” 

“Yeah, uh, I’ll try,” you grumble, “anyway, I gotta head out early for the dig so I should let you go.” 

“Right, of course,” he agrees, “don’t be a stranger.” 

“I won’t. Promise.” 

“Night,” he says. 

You return a ‘good night’ and hang up. You toss your phone onto the pillow and heave as you clutch your head. You hate this. Why did you come all this way just to suffer? You should have just stuck it out. Sat on the sidelines like you always did and just swallow it all down. This is worse. Being so alone.  

There’s no going back. Not now. So you just need to get through this and after... after you’ll just have to face Mr. and Mrs. Rogers with a fake smile and broken heart. 

💟

The next week goes by much like your first days there. You wake up, drive up the mountain, plot, dig, clean up, and drive back. You sleep almost as soon as you sit down. You don’t have time to mull over what you left behind, not as you catalogue every bone and bead you come across. 

You check in with Arturo when you can, just to confirm that everything is going according to plan. Often, you’re asleep when anyone else calls. You wake up to notifications from your mom and Sam and even Bucky. You should call them back but you just can’t. You can’t put on a fake voice for them. Not yet. 

You take a day off. Only after Arturo insists. You know you should. You may as well have a proper grocery shop. You can’t keep living off the cafe and fish shop.  

The shop feels more like a market. You pick through produce and meats, and get what’s easy. You’ll cook it all and package it up so you can just heat it up later. Some muffins to eat on your way up the mountain and maybe a few protein bars. 

As you trawl the grocery store aisles, you pull out your phone. You have a pile of unread notifications from Insta. You don’t often check it anyway but your curious and a little homesick. 

You see your mom’s post about her trip to the vineyard with her book club pals and Sam’s story with a very agitated looking Bucky. That makes you laugh. You scroll by some crafting videos and the pages you follow of castle curators living your aspirational goals. 

Then you stop. You pull the cart still and go rigid as you stare at the screen. The image of Steve and Peggy burns into your retinas like a blinding light. It’s there engagement announcement. He has her in his arms, kissing her, as she holds out her hand to the camera to show off the diamond. 

You can’t breathe. Your chest is on fire and your ears are ringing. It’s like salt in the wound and you don’t doubt it's intentional, at least on Peggy’s part.  

Your hands shake as you grip the phone tightly and tap on Steve’s username. You ignore the rest of his profile and the pictures you know will only add to the turmoil brewing in your stomach. You hit the button in the corner and tap again and again. ‘You are about to block ‘starsnstripes18, are you sure’. Yes and yes! 

You lock the screen and drop the phone into your purse, nestled into the basket of the cart. You grasp the bar and push the cart forward, steadying your steps with it. You look between the shelves and exhale. 

You need to go cold turkey. No more Steve, no more Peggy, no more New York. You stood still so long, it feels good to run away from it all. 

[gloomyluvr]

LOOK LIKE WE IN LOVE

in which y/n drags miles to a photo booth!

fem!reader x e-42! miles morales

fluff ( i hope )

warnings!: suggestive jokes? i depict miles kinda nonchalant, yikes.

based off this ask

a/n: okie soooo i tried my best to fulfill the request. i hope this is up to expectations. this one was so cute to write. also, i watched so many photo booth couple videos on tt and it was lowks depressing 😞 but i had so much fun writing this! as always, spanish speaking reader in mind! i provide translations for this one cuz searching up the translation is VERY inaccurate. 

masterlist

summer break had finally started and what better way to spend it than going to the mall with your boyfriend? you walked around intently, hand intertwined with miles’. his serious demeanor deeply contrasted the big smile on your face. you had begged him to accompany you to this very specific mall.

“baby, where are you taking me?” he murmured as you dragged him to god knows where. 

“just waittt. ya mero llegamos.” you exclaimed. miles simply sighed and went along with your antics. you walked a little more until you finally stopped in front of a box? with a curtain?

“ta daaaa!” you announced, letting go of miles’ hand. miles only looked at the box and back at you, with a clearly very confused look on his face. you groaned, “the photobooth like the ones from the tik toks i’ve sent you!”

“ohh. pues, you coulda just said that.” he chuckled, as he opened the curtain and motioned for you to get inside the booth. you rolled your eyes, “¡vámonos vámonos! taking your sweet ass time.” miles joked as you got in, yelping in surprise as he slapped your ass. 

“miles!”

“chill!” he laughed.

“that shit hurt!” you glared at miles with a pout on your face. 

he only smirked, “pues, te lo puedo sobar.” 

( well, i could massage it for you )

“¡cohcino!” you slapped your boyfriends shoulder as he got inside the booth. 

( nasty! )

“im just playing, mami. okay come on let’s get this over with.” he closed the curtain as you read the instructions. 

“wanna pay for this and i’ll pay for lunch?” you offer knowing damn well he’d pay for both regardless.

“mhm.” miles took out 4 dollars from his wallet and inserted the bills in to the machine. the machine started rambling on about instructions and miles looked at you. “can’t believe you got me doing this shit.” your boyfriend laughed in disbelief. 

miles wrapped a hand around your waist and scooted you closer to him. you giggled, it truly was amusing on how you got this stoic of a man to be doing the most lovey-dovey shit just so he could see a smile on your face. 

“now for the fun part! you have 3 chances to pose, so have fun, make sure you look at the camera” the automated voice instructed.

“put your finger as a heart!” 

“seriously?” miles argued.

“get ready! 3-”

“yes! hurry!” you insisted.

miles smiles and did as you asked.

“2, 1” shutter.

there was a pause before the countdown started again. you held miles’ jaw and pressed your lips against his cheek. and miles smiled contently. 

shutter. 

“that one’s gonna come out so cute i just know it!” you looked at miles excitedly. on his cheek your lipgloss left a stain with the perfect imprint of your lips. miles turned to you as the countdown once again started. he placed his hands on both sides of your face, and kissed you right as the camera went off. when he finally pulled away, he simply smiled before opening the curtain to get out of the booth. you followed him out and stood silently holding his hand as you waited for the pictures to print. 

once the copies came out, you quickly snatched them. “ah!!! they look so cute! thank you baby.” you engulfed him in a tight hug to which he reciprocated. 

miles took one of the copies and focused only on you in the photos. 

“you look gorgeous, ma.” he looked down at you and gave you that lovely smile of his. you blushed, looking down avoiding his gaze because of how nervous and giggly it made you.

bonus !

aaron sat down in front of miles who was on his phone doing god knows what. 

“they messed up the order so we’re gonna have to wait a bit more.” aaron sighed. 

“hm ok.” miles responded dryly. 

aaron was about to make a comment about his nephews disinterest when he noticed miles had decorated his once empy clear phone case. it was pictures of miles clearly infatuated with his lover.

“your girl made you do that?” miles looked up from his phone in confusion.

“what?” uncle aaron nodded towards the phone in miles’ hands, “oh. yeah she’s been wanting do that for a while.”

aaron laughed, “she got you real wrapped around her finger huh?” 

miles turned the back of his phone towards him, “yeah guess so.” he laughed along with his uncle. he admired the photos, thumb running over his phone case. his heart swelled at how beautiful you looked and how lucky he was to have you in his life. 

[mrchiipchrome]

Care For Me, I Know You Care For Me

W.C. - 6.1 k

Back with another chapter :()

———————————————

“I’m going to a party, you want to come with?” Looking up at the older girl through heavy lidded eyes, her party dress clinging tight to her body, you can barely even imagine yourself at another party, especially with classes having started the week prior.

A multitude of open books surround you, all displaying different types of equations and explanations of increasingly complex mathematical concepts. You’d already been at it for an hour, and still you had only solved two or three questions.

It was worse than having to run suicides for an hour straight, pure brutality.

“Do I have a choice?” With your fingers buried deep in your hair and your lips turned down in a frown, Em looks you over for a moment before deciding on her answer, shaking her head softly, uncharacteristically.

“I’m really sorry, I've just got so much work already.” Looking back down at the half solved problem, you sigh loudly before writing out another part of the equation, pulling your calculator closer to the edge of the table, the numbered buttons clicking softly under your fingertips.

Going unnoticed by you, Em’s shoes thud against the hardwood floor as she makes her way over to where you're sitting at the kitchen table, placed up against the almost kitchen island looking structure that’s there instead of a full wall to make the space look more open, her hands taking hold of the sides of your face resulting in your cheeks being smushed together when she makes you look up at her.

"You're not sorry, you hate going to parties.” As her sentence comes to an end, she presses a kiss to your forehead before she turns around to leave your apartment, looking back at you to blow you a kiss when she sees you putting your middle finger up at her through the hallway mirror.

But alas, as the door clicks shut behind the older woman, you have to go back to doing the boring work you’d been given by your math teacher, no longer a distraction there for you to blame for not having full focus.

Em was always a nice distraction for you when the work piled up and your usual workaholic self sat for hours upon hours in front of a multitude of books and screens.

At the same time, it was infuriating when she interrupted at the worst times like when you were in the middle of a question or when she inevitably would ask you to do her assignments for her, all while probably eating your food. The girl really is in a league of her own at times.

Rolling your eyes at the thought, it doesn’t take long for you to remove all distractions from your surroundings, putting your phone on do not disturb before burying your head in your work once more, numbers and equations floating together in your mind like they have no substance.

There's no preventing the drooping of your eyelids about 3 hours after Em initially asked you if you wanted to party, and there’s even less you can do about the way the cool pages of your book feel against your hot cheek, the combination of boredom and sleepiness from the late hour mixing together and creating a very tired striker.

It’s only a few hours later when you’re drooling over the written out equations on your paper that you startle awake, a loud ringing coming from the phone placed not too far away from your head, your body jumpstarting way too quickly for your mind to comprehend.

Slapping around for your phone, your fingers grip the cool metal with surprising ease, swiping blindly at the accept button, not even looking at the caller id.

“Y/l/n Manufacturing, how can I help you?” The response is automated, coming out your mouth like it had been practiced a million times before, sometimes your home phone would ring and you’d pick it up before one of your nanny’s could, leaving your childish voice to sound through the speaker, ready to tackle their problems with practiced efficiency only your parents could rival. Sure little helper you were.

There’s a second filled to the brim with an awkward type of silence before sweet giggling fills your ear, leaving you to pull away from the phone for a quick second, looking at the caller id.

‘Emma Whitmore Harvard’ can be seen across the top of your screen, but even though the voice was familiar, it wasn’t Em. That much you knew.

Who could possibly have her phone at this hour? Raising your phone back up to your ear, you don’t bother to lift your head from the papers now sticking uncomfortably to your face, only waiting for the person on the other end to stop giggling and start talking.

“Hey Y/n/n, why so formal? We’re friends right?” Oh. Of course Nika would be the one to call you…from Em’s phone?

“Nika? Why do you have Emma’s phone?” She giggles once again, this time at your sleepy confusion and at the sound of you peeling the paper off your cheek with a small groan, red marks engraved into your skin, not that she could see that.

“Well she took me to the party you didn’t want to go to, obviously she forgot that she had to drive home and we’re stuck here, drunk.” She explains carefully, choosing her words as consciously as she can, the slur of her words indicating that she in fact was a little more than tipsy.

Sighing, you ask the question at the tip of your tongue, already getting up from the chair that’s made your butt numb after sitting on it for hours upon hours.

“You want to bring you both back here?” She hums in response, agreeing quickly, and you can imagine the sly smile on her lips on the other end of the phone. “Alright, I’ll be there in an hour, try to not get yourself in trouble.” With that you hang up on her, sighing once more before making your way to the hall, not even paying your outfit any mind as you slip your beat up sneakers on.

Plucking your car keys off the hook they’re hung on, you’re out the door in record time with your phone in one hand and your keys in the other. Rubbing your eyes as you stand in the elevator, you can only imagine the trouble a drunk Nika and an even drunker Em have gotten into during the evening without you there to calm them down.

You yawn as the ding of the elevator doors indicate their opening, stepping out into the colder air of the entrance in the apartment building, shivering ever so slightly.

Another yawn leaves your mouth as you walk across the parking lot towards the garage that you keep your precious car in, and you slap yourself a few times to wake up a little bit more.

After opening the garage door to see your absolute beauty of a car, it only takes a few seconds for you to unlock the doors and slip into the warmth that it provided, the special made seats infinitely better than any wooden chair you could ever purchase for your kitchen.

Pushing your key into the ignition, you stop only for a moment or two to close your eyes tightly, feeling the sleepiness push at the back of your eyes, eyelids heavy even whilst they’re closed. But alas, you were a woman on a mission, to rescue your two princesses from the monstrosity that is a frat party.

So you pull up the ‘Find My’ app on your phone, clicking on the little icon with Em’s face beside it, showing off her location for you, and as you typed the location in the search bar of the ‘Maps’ app there’s nothing stopping you from letting out that little laugh that was reserved for ridiculous situations like this.

Who other than Emma Whitmore would forget to stay sober so that she could drive home? A real Em thing to do you suppose.

Either way, you turn the car on and pull out of the garage, clicking on the little button on your keys to make the door close behind the back of the car automatically.

Your phone is placed on the dashboard, ready to tell you the instructions to find the location you desire, and you reach out to turn the radio on, a ballad from ages ago floating out of the almost outdated speakers on low volume, covering the piercing silence covering every surface and crevice of your car.

Tapping along to the subtle beat of the song, the empty roads of the early morning almost feel comforting, streetlights lighting up the inside of your car for a second before it’s the next one’s turn, various trees littering the edges of the roads. They’re never grouped together, only single trees in a line, a style choice.

The voice of the AI giving you the instructions quiets down when you’re only a few blocks away from the house that Em’s phone had been in only an hour before, and you’re surprised at how quickly time had passed as you were driving, an hour feeling closer to 20 minutes than an hour.

But it’s only when you start to recognise the clusters of trees and the street signs that you turn off the directions, not needing them to navigate you anymore.

Parking your car a bit away from the frat, once again not wanting it to be stolen by some drunken frat boys, you take your keys out of the ignition and exit the car, locking it quickly before putting the keys in your pocket where they would be safe.

Leaning slightly against the hood of your car, you send a quick text off to Em, well Nika, saying that you’re there and that they should come out to meet you.

When your phone vibrates in your grip you let a small smile creep up on your face, a small ‘come find us’ coming through, the banner covering the bottom of your screensaver, a photo of you with your Arsenal teammates on your last day before leaving for America.

Trudging up the small hill, the thumping music spilling out from the large white house makes a sarcastic smile appear on your face, hands shoved into the pockets of your pajama pants.

More than a few people turn their heads to look at you weirdly but you don't pay them any mind, ready to bring both the older women home so that you could finally finish your homework and then go to bed.

Entering the open door, you’re immediately met with the stench of alcohol and sweat and the sight of various men pushing up against anything with a beating heart, legs and long hair.

Scanning the room, you look for the tall brunette and the shorter blonde, the two of them seemingly being able to keep entirely hidden from your wandering eyes despite their vertically advantaged frames.

Dragging the soles of your shoes along the floor, you’re making sure to be on alert in case you spot them and it doesn’t register in your mind, the music from before now rattling your brain around in your skull.

But as you spot the guy from the party where you first met Nika, you have no choice in turning around and almost sprinting into the kitchen to get away from him and his musty presence.

With Lady Luck on your side, your body bumps into someone else’s, a familiar warmth to the hand wrapping around the back of your shirt to make sure that your lanky body doesn’t thump pathetically against the sticky floor and the foreign accent wrapping around the words coming out of the gorgeous girl’s mouth.

“Found us.” The sentence is short, simple, but still it makes your knees feel like tv static and your heart thump painfully against your ribs, your usual confident but grumpy demeanor turning shy and giddy. That was until a voice sounds above the music and the blood rushing in your ears, a voice that could immediately turn any giddiness back into irritability, no matter how much you loved the girl it belonged to.

“What the actual fuck are you wearing?” Emma asks giggling, looking at the pajamas you had changed into not long after she had left. She was clearly drunk, but sober enough to be a hater.

Nika pulls away from your body, just enough so that she herself could get a peek of the ‘ugly’ attire, bringing her free hand to her lips in order to not laugh out loud at it.

You look down at yourself, a big red Harvard logo printed on your white t-shirt with your number right above it, and a pair of Arsenal themed pajama pants, bright red with the logo printed in white.

A slight red tint creeps up on your face as you roll your eyes at the both of them, ready to drag the both of them out by the ear if you had to. The two women’s giggles fill the space you occupy, leaving you to fight the smile willing itself to creep up on your face, wrapping an arm around each of their shoulders to try to get a move on out the house.

The giggles turn even louder as the guy from before calls out for you as you’re nearing the door, his strange dialect mixing with the alcohol in a mess of words and mumbles.

“Bye bye Brit!” If your hands hadn’t been secured around the shoulders of the girls beside you, you would’ve flipped him off. Luckily for both you and him, you had to keep hold of them both so that they wouldn’t drunkenly wander off.

You feel as they both sway on their feet as they focus solely on putting one foot in front of the other, wanting no drunken accidents to affect them in the morning.

The concrete of the sidewalk wasn’t comfortable to fall on, that much they both knew even in their drunken stupor.

After much fuss and a few close calls, you’ve all made it back to your car in one piece, the infamous car that no one had stolen.

“Em, come on, you go in the backseat.” Your voice holds a tone of finality and Em knows that there’s no room for arguing, instead just grumbling softly to herself as she opens the door and plops down in the seat just behind the passenger, buckling herself in under your watchful gaze.

When she’s done, you close the door softly before turning around, completely forgetting about Nika for a second, your heart jumping out of your chest as you come face to face with the Aphrodite.

Placing your hand over your thumping heart, you gasp sharply at the unexpected presence, a playful smile breaking out of the perpetrators face.

“Boo.” She whispers into the cold night air, a mix of alcohol and mint on her breath that’s pleasant in its own unique way, in a way that strangely leaves you wanting more of her.

“Get in the car Nika, I’ll drive you home.” The smile drops off her face when you mention home, like she wasn’t expecting that to be the word coming out of your mouth, her fingers twisting and turning around themselves in a nervous game. It makes you look at her curiously, wondering why that was her reaction, wondering how and why and everything in between.

But you wait for her to tell you why, how and everything in between in her own time, for the first time in the last week your mind stood still, waiting for whatever was about to come out of Nika’s parted lips.

“I- can you just take me back to yours instead? I mean only if you want to.” She picks at the skin around her nails as she speaks, all rushed like you wouldn’t say yes a thousand times if it meant that you got to spend another second with her.

“Of course I can, no problem really.” Trying your best to be comforting, you slap a smile on your face as you speak, bringing your hand up to rub at her shoulder softly, assuring her that you didn’t have a problem with opening your home up to another guest.

“Thanks.” With her word of gratitude, you turn back around to the car, seeing Emma making rather crude gestures through the window, a peace sign with her tongue between her fingers. Normally you would reprimand the drunk girl’s actions, but you can’t help the small giggle leaving your lips, a shake of your head as you roll your eyes.

You open the door to the passenger seat for Nika, motioning for her to sit down with practiced ease, smiling as she tiptoes towards the car like she's a princess and you're her knight, placing her hand into your outstretched one as she goes to sit down in the passenger seat.

You smile at the playful nature of the interaction, the tiredness hitting you like a ton of bricks once more as you keep a watchful eye over the woman buckling herself into your car, making sure that she does it properly.

Just like you did with Em before, you close the door softly after her, this time not being scared by anyone hiding behind you. Walking around the front of the car, the tips of your fingers trace over the hood as a sort of leading hand, letting you go around to your side with ease.

Not unlike Em, you plop down in your seat sluggishly before putting the key back in the ignition, pausing only to look back at your best friend with a pointed look, warning her not to be all too annoying during the ride back home.

She just puts her hands up, smirking at you playfully, so self assured that she wouldn’t do anything to get her into any trouble with you.

The car awakens with a rumble, the engine almost purring as you pull away from where you’re parked against the curb, tired eyes focused only on getting everybody back to your apartment safely and totally not at all on the beauty sitting in your passenger seat.

It isn't until you’ve hit the open road that you allow yourself to look back at your best friend through the rearview mirror, the girl's head resting on the seat behind her, mouth open with ever so soft snores coming out of her. It makes a wide, teasing smile appear on your lips, a sleepy drunk too apparently.

When you turn your eyes back to the road, you completely miss the enraptured look in the brunette beside you’s eyes, an adoring smile on her soft red lips.

Her eyes trail over the dips and curves of your body under your clothes, over the bridge of your nose and the slight furrow of your brow in concentration, over the curve of your jaw and the locks of your hair.

She lets her eyes trail over your exposed forearms as you grip the steering wheel, your fingers tapping against the leather to the beat of the song she hadn’t even noticed in the background.

Before she can stop herself, the accented words spill out of her mouth like a waterfall, a drunken impulse that maybe wasn't that affected after all.

“You’re really pretty you know.” It’s almost a whisper, just a little bit louder than a normal one would be, but you heard her like she was shouting it across the rooftops, not whispering it in the enclosed space of your car.

You look at her, only for a moment or two, her gaze turned to the road you were driving on, deliberately choosing not to look you in the eye, almost embarrassed by the comment that could easily be interpreted as friendly and not flirtatious.

“You’re awfully pretty as well, Nika.” You decide on your words very carefully, not wanting to seem overly flirtatious with the taken woman, but at the same time wanting to return the compliment. She was really, truly gorgeous though.

Again, before she can stop herself from clarifying, she blurts out another string of words that she hopes you’ll just play off as her being intoxicated and not really truthful.

“No, you don't understand, you're gorgeous.” She hears you laugh slightly under your breath, and she almost breathes a sigh of relief at you not taking her seriously, and waving off her comments under the simple guise of;

“And you're drunk.” With that, all your focus is back on the road, trying to get back to your home as quickly as humanly possible, wanting to crawl down in your bed and snuggle up to your blankets.

And after many twists and turns, you're finally back where you started, at your apartment building, the cold air surrounding you as you exit the vehicle after you’ve parked it back in your garage, Nika following in tandem as she too makes her way out, shivering slightly in the Boston air.

“The code to the door is 6532, you can go whilst I get Em up.” She smiles at you once again, committing the list of numbers to her memory, willing herself not to forget even a single digit. Her shoes clack against the pavement in a sure rhythm, making her way towards the door of the building, repeating the numbers to herself softly.

At the same time, you’re pulling Em’s door open, tapping her cheek to wake her up from the deep slumber she found herself in. Ever the deep sleeper, her snores just continued to fill the car, almost like she was doing it only to spite you.

“Em, Em. Emma, come on, wake up.” By now you’re shaking her harshly, the woman only grumbling at you to leave her alone. “Emma, I will slap you into next week if you don’t get up.” That rouses her, the older brunette quickly unbuckling her seatbelt and getting out of the car, standing next to you and then bringing her hand up to mock salute you.

Rolling your eyes at her antics, you quickly lock the car up before walking out of the garage with your best friend in tow, the garage door going down and covering up your car from the view of the public, safe and sound.

It doesn’t take long for you both to get into your building, seeing Nika standing by the elevator doors, seemingly waiting for the two of you to join her in the lobby before you all collectively went up to your apartment. There’s a certain look in her eye, at least that’s what you think, maybe it was just the lighting. Yeah that’s it.

“Nika, hey girl, what are you doing here?” The girl practically hanging off you speaks, asking her now giggling friend the question of the century. She’s still really drunk, that’s easy to tell, the slurring of her words, the tint to her cheeks and the sway of her body.

“Oh we’re having a sleepover.” She answers nonchalantly, sending you a wink when Em’s not looking, both of you having to stop the giggles bubbling up in your chests. It was your little secret, Em didn’t have to know.

The elevator doors open and you all step in, directing Nika to press the button for the fifth floor with a simple show of fingers. You look on as she leans back against the wall, taking in the exterior of the moving box, bringing you all upstairs in the matter of seconds.

Gesturing for her to exit first, you bring Em with you as you walk out behind the tall brunette, her body almost hanging off yours with her arms tightening themselves around your shoulders. Em stumbles over her own feet a few times even with the help of your guidance, but all in all you both manage to stay upright in the small distance from the elevator to your door.

“Nika, catch!” You whispershout in her direction, plucking your keys out of your pocket and throwing it to her right in time, her hands coming up to catch them skillfully. She nods to the door she’s standing in front of, asking you if it’s the right one silently, pushing the house key on your keychain into the lock and twisting, the door opening with a click.

She takes a few slow steps into the apartment, looking around curiously, spotting a few photos hanging on the walls of the hallway. You enter after her, quickly kicking your shoes off with little to no regard for the overall cleanliness of the space, pulling a now half asleep Em through the open space between your kitchen, the hall and the living room.

Nika can hear the loud groan as you drop Em off on the couch, your back popping loudly as you stretch your muscles out, returning to the hall with heavy steps. You meet her with a tired smile, telling her to follow you.

“You want anything to eat? Drink? Anything?” You ask the beauty as she follows you into the kitchen, head on a swivel as she studies your apartment, looking down at the books laying on your table, wide open for anyone to see. Seeing her eyes widen at the problems, you chuckle quietly, not wanting to disturb Emma sleeping in the next room over.

“Yeah, that was my reaction too.” Crossing your arms across your chest, you lean back against the counter behind you, waiting for the girl in front of you to answer your previous question. “Come on, I’ll make you some tea.”

The woman giggles at your words, the stereotypical brit in you coming out as you push off the counter and saunter over to the kettle, filling it up with enough water for a cup each. You look back with a smile of your own before turning the tap off and returning the kettle to the tray, pushing the on button before turning around.

The sight you see as you turn around is one of Nika, sitting on your countertop with one leg crossed over the other, hands clutching the edge softly.

A comfortable silence covers the room as you stand on opposite sides waiting for the kettle to boil, you moving around the room to fetch two cups out of the cupboard, plopping a teabag in each cup, pouring the now boiling water over the tea, making the once clear water a sheer dark brown.

“There you go.” You say as you hand her one of the cups, a blue mug with small green dinosaurs painted all around, your own just a plain white one.

“Thank you.” The words of gratitude are whispered but you hear them all the same, watching her take a sip before she places the warm mug down on the counter right beside her thigh. She looks up, seeing your intense gaze fixed on her, turning her head down shyly, uncharacteristically. “Hi.”

“Hi.” You respond, smiling softly once more, taking your own sip of your tea. “If you want a shower, the bathroom is at the end of the hall, there are clean towels on the rack in there already, then you can take my bed, first door on the left.” Keeping your eyes locked on her, you see the tiny nod she gives at the information, absentmindedly hopping off the counter and moving towards the hallway leading to the bathroom before she stops suddenly, peeking her head around the corner to look at you.

“What about you?” She questions, her brows furrowed adorably in confusion.

“What about me?” You ask right back, now as confused as she is, not understanding what she meant.

“Where are you sleeping?” She asks as if it’s obvious, rolling her eyes sassily at you.

“Oh, I’ll just cuddle up to dear Em.” You smile almost sarcastically, like you can’t wait to have Em’s sharp elbow digging into your ribs in the near future.

“I don’t mind sharing with you.” Despite the way she says it, you know that Nika is being fully truthful in her confession, especially as she shrugs her shoulders at your questioning look.

“No, I can’t do that.” You say, unsure in the words coming out your own mouth more than anything.

“I don’t mind sharing with you, it can’t be worse than sharing with P anyway.” She doubles down on her previous statement, shaking her head at your stubborn nature.

“Nika, you don’t understand, I have to finish this up and by the time I’m done it’s going to be late…” You try to explain, plopping back down into the chair at your kitchen table, picking your pen up and focusing your eyes back down on the paper, not noticing the woman in question nearing you again until she’s standing right in front of you, her fingers plucking the pen right out of your hand.

“Do it tomorrow.” She says in that captivating tone, making you want to do exactly what she’s suggesting, despite the fact that it was something you so desperately needed to do. Extremely convincing indeed.

“Nika…” You sigh, and she knows that you’re not far from agreeing, just a little more needed to get you over the edge. Nika hums softly, handing you your pen back with a small smirk on her annoyingly pretty face.

“You know you want to.” She says into the tension filled air, physical sparks almost flying between your bodies as she leans in ever so slightly, your faces only inches apart from each other.

“How do you know what I want?” You counter, a blush creeping up your neck at her cocky smirk, trying your hardest not to seem squirmish under her intense look, uncharacteristic for your usual confident self. Still, a curious look creeps up on your face as you wait for her answer, the corners of your lips peeking up ever so slightly.

“Psychic.” She motions around with her hands, putting two fingers to her temple like she’s about to read the aura you emit, and you can’t help but lean back in your chair, snorting at the notion that she could do something like that.

“Yeah, yeah, go take a shower.” You roll your eyes playfully as she walks away, turning back to make the universal ‘I’m keeping my eyes on you’ gesture, a silly smile erupting on your face as her back turns to you fully, shaking your head at the antics.

You can hear the shower starting, the water splashing against the bathroom floor and the metal of Nika’s belt buckle being undone.

Looking back down at the books, you start trying to solve the next problem, your back hunched over the table uncomfortably, eyes straining against the soft lighting just about giving the papers enough visibility. The scratching of your pencil is comforting, repetitive but nice, keeping the light headache just starting to form at bay.

There’s no way to tell how much time that had passed as you sat in your dimly lit kitchen, ears picking up on the shower stopping but you didn't pay it much attention, still stuck on the same problem as before.

Letting out a sigh of relief as you finally get the equation right, you hear your name being called from the open doorway, no door sitting in the space, and you can physically feel your heart speeding up in your chest, banging against your ribs harshly for the thousandth time that day. Your mouth turns dry and your pupils expand exponentially, a rose colored tint on your cheeks.

Nika’s dark brown curls drip water onto your floor, droplets of water running down the top of her chest, stopping only when they come into contact with the absorbent material of the towel tightly wrapped around her body. Her collarbones on full display for your eyes to drink in, looking like they were sculpted in marble by Michelangelo, no not even he could do the goddess standing in front of you any justice.

In the matter of seconds you were fully awake, not even a remnant of the previous exhaustion in your mind, thousands of thoughts running through your mind at the same time making you completely short circuit.

You were, as most called it, gay panicking.

When you come back into ‘consciousness’ Nika is standing right in front of you, looking concerned and waving her hand in front of your eyes, trying to gain your attention.

“Yo, you okay?” She asks, that furrow back in her brow, deepening when you can’t seem to find the right words to reply to her, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

“Yea- uh yeah I’m dandy, what did you want to know?” You answer, mouth still dry like the desert but your thoughts are more collected than before. Redirecting your eyes so that you’re looking back at your homework, you don’t see the concern still in her expression, nor as she brushes it off and decides that maybe it didn’t matter.

“Can I borrow some clothes? I don’t have anything to change into.” Nika tells you and you hum, throwing out a simple response.

“Sure, my wardrobe is in my bedroom, take whatever you like.” The only thing you can hear after that is the thudding of her steps against your floor, retreating towards your room, the click of the door opening and closing making you let out the breath you didn’t even know you were holding in, slapping your hand over your face at the fool you were making yourself out to be.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You whisper to yourself, rubbing your eyes harshly before sighing, flipping your books close and starting to tidy up all the papers laying all over your kitchen, yawning softly as you bend down to pick up the last piece of paper on the floor.

It’s unexpected when hands grip your hips, pulling you backwards like you were a dog being dragged by its hind legs. Looking back at Nika, all she does is smile mischievously and continue to pull you back with her.

“Nika, what are you doing?” By now you’re standing up a little more, her hands still situated on your hips, beginning to slide upwards to take hold of your waist instead.

“Getting you to bed.” She answers, not letting you go even as you move to continue cleaning up the kitchen. “What are you doing?”

“Cleaning my kitchen.” You tell her like it’s obvious, even rolling your eyes for the extra effect needed to convey your ‘message’. She hums, deciding on what her next course of action should be as you keep moving around, dragging her along.

“Do it in the morning.” Nika tells you almost sternly, trying to actually pull you towards your bedroom now instead of the half assed way she was doing it before.

“Nika come-” You start off before you’re interrupted, not having much of a choice in following her instructions this time.

“Nope, in the morning.” Letting yourself get dragged to your bedroom, you shut the door behind the two of you after the brunette finally let go of you, instead turning to your bed and slipping under the comfortable covers.

You however, move towards your wardrobe, ready to get out of the clothes that you had been outside in, they weren’t getting in your bed. The clean pair of shorts and the t-shirt you pull out replace the dirty clothes, not even noticing Nika’s steady eyes on you all throughout the process, your tired mind just wanting to go to sleep after the long day.

Shuffling over to the bed, you get under the blanket and go to get more comfortable, tossing for a few seconds before reaching over to turn off the bedside lamp Nika must have turned on when she was in choosing her sleepwear before.

Arms thread around your waist once more, with you laying on your back and her laying on her side, a leg slung over your thighs and her head placed on your chest, surprisingly cuddly and comfortable.

“This okay?” She questions timidly, looking up at you through heavy eyelids, begging for the rest that’s soon to come. Nika can only see the movement of your head, nodding back and forth tiredly, your right hand coming up to lay behind your head.

“Good night Nika.”

“Good night Y/n/n.”

An hour later when Em gets up to go pee, she decides to check on you, taking a little detour and opening your door just a little, seeing you and her brother’s girlfriend snuggled up tightly to each other, asleep face to face.

She chuckles quietly before closing the door back up and making her way to the bathroom, muttering something under her breath in order to not wake you both.

“I’ve seen lesbian porn straighter than that.”

[brehaaorgana]

ADHD money/budgeting system I'm currently using for my benefit is going well (I've been using it for like half a year now?), and I wanna recommend it.

You Need a Budget is EXCELLENT. 10/10 do recommend. Uhhh rambling about it and my generic disclaimers + gushing extensively under the cut but TL;DR I think it's great for ADHD ppl, I've used it for 6+ months now and I find it super SUPER helpful. also weirdly fun.

DISCLAIMERS:

Budgeting helps you understand/know your money, it can't make money appear where there is none.

Everyone should learn to budget even if you don't have much money (especially then)

This is NOT a magic trick solution. Just like everything else, it is an assistive tool. This is one of those adult things we can't simply opt out of without negative consequences, though.

My advice is based on something I am currently able to do. That is, I can spend an amount of money on this specific thing that works well for me. If you have no extra money to spend then previously I was tracking things in a notebook. So you can still do this.

I believe Dave Ramsey is a fundie fraud/hack and no one should listen to him about money.

DID YOU KNOW THEY CANCELLED MINT???

Okay? OKAY.

Ahem.

You Need a Budget is EXCELLENT.

It is called YNAB for short. The first 34 days are your free trial, and that is my referral link. If anyone uses it and then signs up for a subscription, we both get a month free. Also you can share a subscription with up to six people (account owner can see everything but individuals can pick and choose what they share amongst each other) so like...idk your whole polycule can be on one account. Or your kids. Whatever.

If you are a student, it's free for a year. If you aren't, a subscription is $99 for a year (paid all at once) or $14.99 monthly, which is equivalent to paying Amazon prime. Go cancel Prime and get this instead tbh.

They got a whole article just on ynab and ADHD. They also have like...a big variety of ways to access their info? They have a book, podcast episodes, YouTube videos, blog posts, q&A's, free live workshops you can join (you can request live captioning), emails they can send (if you want) a wiki, and so on. They got workshops on all kinds of topics!!

So whatever ends up working for your brain. It also has a matching app.

If you lost Mint this year they have a gajillion things for moving from Mint.

Also they have a "got five minutes?" Page which has a slider so you can decide how much attention/time you have before going on lol:

They only have 4 rules of the budget, they're simple and practical, and it doesn't get judgey or like...mean about your spending.

1. Give every dollar a job 2. Embrace your true expenses 3. Roll with the punches 4. Age your money.

THEN THEY BREAK THESE DOWN INTO SMALL STEPS FOR YOU! They even have a printable! Also these rules are great because there's built in expectations that things WILL HAPPEN and it's NOT all or nothing with a fear of total collapse into failure. Reality and The Plan don't always align, especially if you have ADHD. So it's directing our energy towards the true expenses and not clinging to The Plan!! over reality.

You can automate a lot of shit (you can sync with your bank accounts just like mint, but also automate tagging the categories of regular expenses/transactions). And if for whatever reason you accidentally do something that makes the budget look weird or wrong:

A) you can usually fix it somehow OR b) they have like, a button you can press that gives you a clean slate and archives the previous version of the budget for you.

So if you forget for a few weeks or months, or accidentally input something wildly wrong, or just don't want to look at a really terrible month anymore and feel like you need a fresh start you can usually either fix it or start fresh which is really nice.

The app also (for whatever reason) scratches my itch to have things like...have incentives or little game-like goals in a way mint never did? I don't know why. Filling up the bars or putting money into the categories to cover my expenses is satisfying lmao. You can also make a big wish expense category for all the fun shit you want, and fund it whenever you can and then you can see the little bar go up and that's fun.

Anyways I've been using it for like 6+ months now and I think it's really helped me when I use it.

[immortalmrwavell]

Mr Wavell Is Back!!

Getting Terminated, My Brand New Account and How Things Will Be Moving Forwards. If you were a fan of my content please stick around and read what I’ve got to say ❤️

So as some of you may have already noticed, my original account MrWavellSwaps was terminated. This was very recent so a lot of you who followed me on there may not have even noticed yet but you can go see for yourselves. Obviously this was not my choice and was completely out of my control and when I found out I was frustrated to say the least. This account that I’d worked on for over 3 years had just been snatched away from me in a way that I personally feel was unfair. Initially I had been censored back in July this year for posting content that Tumblr believed to be against their guidelines. Or at least their automated bots thought so as what I posted that got me the censor was in a grey area at most. But despite that I tried to do right by correcting and even deleting any and all posts Tumblr had flagged even if I didn’t believe they were against guidelines just to play nice. Following which I appealed my account’s censorship only to be met with silence for months on end. That is until September 3rd where I chased up the appeal for the third time after receiving no response or updates. I was hoping to receive a turnover on the censorship but was expecting them to just say no and keep it censored. But they did the one thing I didn’t except

The email I got the next morning could be summed up like this. “You want a response? Okay. You’re terminated. Goodbye.” And I was. I tried going on Tumblr and my account was gone. Great.

I’ll be honest in the past I would’ve said that if something like this ever happened that I’d just give up with writing these stories and move on. But I don’t feel that way anymore. I think I’ve just grown so fond of this community and writing as a whole that I just don’t really want to leave yet. I’ve met so many friends through being a writer on here and even more than that I met my Boyfriend! I never could’ve expected that writing these silly gay TF stories would change my life in the ways that it has. And that said I think I’d be doing a disservice to just give up and throw it all away.

So here I am. Back again with a fresh new account.

Where am I gonna go from here you may ask. Well of course I have a large catalogue of stories already from the past couple of years and the majority of those stories are actually still floating around Tumblr thanks to all the reblogs. So it’s not like they’re gone forever which I’m glad about. However with my old account gone it feels like they’re all scattered apart. No longer together in one place. And most importantly they no longer feel like mine. Of course I still wrote them all but with this new account I no longer have any control or ownership over those posts and honestly that annoys me. Not to mention with them all coming from my terminated account, there will always be the chance that they’ll just end up getting completely wiped from the platform eventually, reblogs included.

With that said, I’ve made the decision to re-upload each and every single one of my stories to this brand new account. This way I’ll have complete ownership of these new posts. I’ll be able to edit and change them as wish and overall I believe it would just look a whole lot cleaner than if I were to just hunt down reblogs of my old stories to reblog again over here. However I genuinely see that as a positive as not only will it be better for me that way but it can also give all of you a chance to rediscover some of my older works that were perhaps buried under so many other before. And to spice things up I might even update a few of my old stories to add extra scenes and new images to go with them!

On that note I’m gonna be trying to adhere to Tumblr’s guidelines as best I can so I don’t give them any reason to pounce on me again. This means no risqué imagery from now on even if I personally believe it’s within guidelines. My writing style will remain the same however if a story is particularly steamy I may add a community label just to be safe. If you wanna learn more about community labels and how to make sure you’re still able to view labelled posts check out this post. All that said I do have a plan in mind to bring you all versions of my stories that have more explicit imagery but more on that in a moment.

For the next couple of weeks at least I plan on gradually re-uploading all of my content to this blog like I said. I may do one story a day or more than that depending on how I decide to do it. I’ll continue doing this until everything is back up under this new blog. Once all that is done I’m going to try and create a new master list where you can find links to all my posts just like before. And once that’s done I might give myself a breather for a few days and then I’ll see about posting some brand new content. Content of which I’ll be writing up while doing the re-uploads so that it’ll be ready to go once everything is caught back up. After that everything should hopefully be back to normal with my usual schedule of posting new stories and reblogging stories I enjoy!

Now. On top of this I also have plans to create a new blog or website completely outside of Tumblr. One that I can be allowed to do anything that please with and not have to tiptoe around any guidelines. This is where I’ll be uploading alternative versions of all my stories. Some of them may be exactly the same as they were on Tumblr while others may have secret images and gifs that otherwise wouldn’t have been allowed on Tumblr. I haven’t decided on all the specifics yet but once I figure it out I’ll let you all know.

And one last thing before I sign off. Recently I’ve been considering the possibility of turning this hobby of mine into a job. Now don’t worry I’d have absolutely no plans to paywall any of my content. I want everything to remain accessible for free. However I was considering opening up a place for people to leave donations and maybe even kick my Patreon off again. But most importantly I’d be considering opening up commissions. If I were to go down this route I’d likely be able to post much more consistent content for you all and make this my full time focus. It’s just an idea for now and I probably won’t set it into motion until early 2025 if I decide to go through with it but I wanted to at least share it with you all. I was actually just about to post about it on my original account until… you know hahahah.

Well I think I’ve said everything I wanted to say. Please can I ask that if you liked my stories that you please share this and my upcoming re-uploads around and let everyone know that this is my new blog. It would help a ton in getting me back on my feet on I’d really really appreciate it.

Can’t wait to get back on track and continue delivering stories to all you wonderful people out there. I love all of you and I’m so grateful to you all for following my journey so far and I hope you’ll all find me again so we can continue this together! ❤️

- Mr Wavell

[inbarfink]

Okay, so, for the longest time the Tallests’ behavior toward Zim in ‘Battle of the Planets’ has always struck me as… odd.

 I mean, of course the idea that they mock him publicly behind his back makes sense in general. That is a very Tallests Thing to Do. But the specific ways they mock him…

I dunno...maybe the intention is supposed to be like 'haha you're saying 'unstoppable death machine like it's a good thing but it's not!!' or something but... with the delivery and the general characterization of the Irken army it comes off as more of 'haha! it's funny because he's NOT an unstoppable death machine hahaha" and...

Like, yes. Zim is correct. He is, in fact, an ‘unstoppable death machine’. That is absolutely an accurate statement to be taken seriously. The only problem was that he’s an unstoppable death machine that’s too uncontrollable to prevent him from Death Machining his own people as well. That’s literally why you banished him, remember?

But then I took a moment to think about that.... It does actually makes sense that the Tallests, despite getting literal first-class seats to his rampage of destruction - might still have a problem with actually internalizing why Zim is so Bad.

Because Zim is basically the Irkenest Irken to ever Irk. He might be considered ‘Defective’, yes, but all of his defects manifest as the logical extremes of Irken ideology. He has, on paper, all of the skills and personality traits and ideals that the Irken Empire value - just exaggerated and twisted in a way that makes him the biggest milestone around the Empire's neck.

Zim is a pretty good fighter, infiltrator, pilot and scientist. Remember, he’s a Fast-Food Drone Play-Acting Alien Invasion to get him out of the Armada’s antennas now, but he was a legitimate actual Invader back during ‘Impending Doom 1’. And that’s with all the social barriers and prejudice that a short Irken like him is going to face. I’m guessing a lot of the selection process for Invaders is done by automated systems or extremely-detached Control Brains. And only looking at, like, Zim’s practice or test results - he should be an exceptional Invader on-par with Skoodge.

But we all know the truth is more complicated then that. Zim’s talents and training are hampered by his own massive ego, absolute inability to accurately assess threats and his impulsive desires for destruction and death. He’s unable to judge when he’s punching above his weight or tackling an endeavor beyond his abilities. He cannot admit when he has made an error, even just to fix or improve an invention/plan. And he always allocates his resources in the dumbest way possible. 

And that’s all, like, emergent from Irken Ideology - or at least from Zim’s logical extreme of it. Confidence and selfishness are rewarded on Irk - Zim is mostly unusual in terms of sheer volume (or maybe he’s too Short to be allowed to have such a high opinion of himself.) 

His inability to proportionally handle threats is emergent from the Empire’s ideals of Irken Supremacy. Zim is supposed to see all other species in the universe as stupid and inferior and worthy only of servitude and so logically they can’t be a serious threat to him, an Elite Irken Soldier. But he also needs to internally justify why all of these Clearly Inferior Beings are even a problem to the Irken Empire in general and for him in specific. Especially when he fails to conquer them as easily as a ‘Superior Being’ is supposed to. And so his ego and his insistence on Irkens being Superior has to elevate them into fearsome enemies. 

That Speciesism is also why his disguise is so bad! We directly see it in the first episode. He had the option of picking a more realistic human disguises but he just found it too gross. And that actually seems to be a trend, considering every Actual Invader we see on the show has a disguise that is just as bad if not worse.

And Zim’s tendency towards delusions is also born, at least partially, from his devotion to Irken Ideology. Not just from the obvious insistence of the superiority of himself and his Empire despite his constant failures. But also… how do you balance out the Irken values of selfishness with the also-Irken values of loyalty and absolute obedience to the Empire and the Tallests? For Zim, the obvious answer seems to be ‘delude himself into believing whatever selfish personal whim he has is actually for the good of the Empire and the true will of the Tallest’. That’s how he can break All of the Rules All of the Time and still act like he’s just another obedient and loyal vessel of the Tallest. 

And then there’s the value of destruction and cruelty. This is absolutely not a Zim-only thing - that is a value he got from Irken society in general. After all, it’s pretty clear they don’t even have, like, a token excuse for their universe-conquering aspirations. They’re just doing this shit because destroying and subjecting the universe seems Fun and Cool. I mean, ‘Battle of the Planets’ demonstrates that better than anything. 

The Tallests have no idea of what to do with the planets they conquer. They don’t need them for anything. They decided Blorch's new purpose as a spur-of-the-moment decision and it was a Parking Structure Planet. Most of Irk’s single-use planets are pretty silly but this one especially so. Parking Structures only have value based on them being near a Place People Want to Go To, so a whole planet of them really defeats the whole idea. The Tallests only conquered Blorch and wiped out the Rat People because they want to conquer planets and wipe out sapient species.

And that is… exactly the same sort of meaningless cruelty Zim demonstrates. I mean… What Zim did with Prisoner 777 is literally just a smaller-scale recreation of what the whole Irken Empire did to the Vortians. And honestly, Zim actually has a slightly-better track record of actually getting ‘his’ Vortian to do what he wants. While the Irken Empire in general has basically shot themselves in the foot and assured all of their best technology is going to come with some sort of Stupid Hidden Flaw and all because they wanted to be the Conquerors rather than ‘just’ allies. 

The difference is really just that Zim values destruction so much he has problem processing that directing the destruction at his own people is still a very bad thing in the eyes of the empire.

And that’s… kind of the ideological blind spot the Tallests fall into during ‘Battle of the Planets’, I think. They should know that Zim is very much an Unstoppable Death Machine, just one that they can’t control and thus should be kept as far away from the Empire and Operation Impending Doom 2 as possible. But in their little Irken-Ideology-Poisoned minds - being an “Unstoppable Death Machine” is a Good Thing and Zim is obviously Bad - so, obviously logically he cannot be an Unstoppable Death Machine. 

And throughout this entire episode, the Tallest mock the idea that Zim is even capable of… not just achieving his and the Empire’s goals (obviously, yeah, he is incapable of doing that), but that he's even capable of properly causing destruction? Which they should know he is very capable of. And this is probably the closest he ever came in the show to legitimately destroying the human race. Only being foiled due to a huge stroke of luck on Dib’s part that nobody saw coming. And yet the Tallests were so certain that Zim, of all the Irkens in the galaxy, is somehow incapable of destroying a planet???

And at the end, Zim does prove himself as an Unstoppable Death Machine by, once again, managing to kill a fuckload of his own people while the Tallests laugh about how inaccurate that descriptor is for him. 

This is extra ironic with the Tallests throwing that one guy out of the airlock at the start of the episode

They punish others just for not remembering Zim’s rampage, but they clearly have not internalized what it Means themselves.

The fact that a guy like that even managed to reach the most prestigious not-height-based position in the Irken military in the first place should be a cause of some serious introspection of how Irken Military training and evaluation is handled. Especially when you consider much more competent would-be-Invaders like Tak got dismissed and punished for things totally outside of their control.

But… It seems like the only lesson anyone in the Irken Empire learned was just “Zim is awful”. Which is true, but isn’t really getting to the root of the matter. 

You can see another example of that mindset from the Tallests in ‘Hobo 13’. Because those two were so sure Zim was going to lose, and lose painfully. Because he is Incompetent, obviously that means he can’t do it. Totally forgetting that Zim actually totally has the athletic, combat and - most importantly, technological skills and out-of-the-box thinking that allowed him to survive and thrive. 

I mean, yeah, that means he cheated and threw his entire squad to the dogs for his own personal gain and petty sadistic amusement but… that is absolutely not something the Irken Empire frowns upon. The Tallests especially love to torment and even kill off their subordinates for the pettiest of reasons. Skoodge, featured in both of these episodes, is a great example.

And like, ‘being bad leaders and tormenting their own underlings’ is basically what the Tallests spend the entirety of that episode doing.

That Sergeant had ideological problems with Zim being such a horrible and callous leader, but that’s clearly not a representation of the Irken Empire’s stance. Quite the opposite really. Zim might be a disgrace to Hobo 13, but he was an exemplary Irken. The only reason why him winning was a problem is because he’s Zim and they all hate him.

And speaking of the Tallests’ own behavior reflecting Zim’s… let’s talk a bit about ‘Enter the Florpus’.

Because the downfall of the Irken Armada in that story is not just Zim’s fault. I mean, it is partly Zim’s fault. Without him there wouldn’t be a Florpus in the first place. But the narrative makes it constantly very very clear that this is Not Actually a Threat for the Armada… if not for the Tallests adamantly and childishly refusing to change course. 

The Tallests hate Zim, and they make it clear at every possible opportunity. And they hate him because he’s so damn incompetent and such a threat to the Empire’s safety. And yet they constantly demonstrate they possess the exact same core personality issues as Zim - they’re just slightly better having, like, a veneer of reasonability and being able to perceive reality (and also they are tall, which helps them get away with more.) And nowhere is it more obvious than ‘Enter the Florpus’...

Where the Tallests prove that they can be just as childish and single-minded -

And just as destruction-hungry - 

And just as quick to deny reality -

And just as disrespectful of their underlings. 

This recurring bit with the navigator is especially striking to me, because more than anything it makes me remember… Operation Impending Doom 1.

Two times the Irken Empire has been brought to the brink of collapse. And both of these times it is because a powerful high-ranking Irken (one time an Invader, the other time the Tallests themselves), refused to listen to the warnings and concerns of a lower-ranking expert Navigator - continuing with a course of destruction for their own people. 

You could say the Irken Empire was doomed from the start because of their own philosophy of cruelty and selfishness. Eventually, it was bound to create someone like Zim - who takes the Irken Ideology to its logical extreme in the most destructive way possible. Or you can say the Irken Empire was doomed from the start because of their asinine height-based class system. Which basically inevitably assures that at some point the reigns of the Empire will be at the hands of someone buffoonish and incompetent enough to drag the whole Empire down with them. And both of these viewpoints are true in their own way but also…

The Irken Empire was also doomed from the start cause, whatever this is a result of a culture that highly values obedience to your superiors over common sense, or because punishments for disobedience are just so terribly severe - these two Navigators continued to push those knobs and drive that ship even as they knew their commanders were mad and their actions were just driving their own Empire towards oblivion. 

Perhaps the Irken Military could use some sort of protocol of what to do when your superior is being clearly unreasonable and endangering not only the mission but literally the fate of your entire civilization? No, of course not. Yet another lesson not learned from Zim’s actions in ‘Impending Doom 1’. The only important lesson Irk needed to learn from that was just ‘Fuck This One Guy in Particular’.

Zim’s whole existence is like a twisted parody of the Irken Empire and all of its values. It’s really no wonder that the Tallest never got the joke. 

[belokhvostikova]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤: 𝐂𝐥𝐮𝐛 𝐏𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | Following Friday’s events, Eddie Munson was on a mission to apologize to you, though everything fell short when your life began to crumble in a matter of hours.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, yelling, crying, self-deprecating thoughts, violence, experienced anxiety and panic attack, mentions of childhood abuse and neglect, and brief mentions of blood, body shaming, and non consensual touching.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | For the sake of my sanity, I'm going to need all of you to ignore the blatantly unrealistic process of making a book in this story, lol. If there are any necessary warnings that were accidently left out, please feel free to let me know!

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 | One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐈. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡

Whatever mantra of the Munson Doctrine Eddie had been feeding himself to believe about the highest of the social hierarchy embedded within Hawkins High was really starting to fall short, specifically when your pretty face started monopolizing every one of his thoughts imaginable. 

As much as he’d like to admit otherwise, Eddie Munson liked staring at your face, and it was really starting to piss him off just how much he really liked doing it. And the situation only became worse when he steadily watched your wonted bewitching smile fade into a disheartened look of dejection, because that following weekend after your impromptu photo shoot with Hellfire, became the worst week of your life.

And Eddie Munson watched it entirely unravel right in front of him.

It never really occurred to Eddie just how much he’d casually gawk at you prior to said photo shoot. I mean, you were the face of the school, of course, you were hard to miss when you practically lit up the halls with your smile. And that’s merely what Eddie had chalked it up to; your popularity involuntarily placed you at the forefront of his attention. It wasn’t the small strands of baby hairs that perfectly framed your face, whether you decided to keep your hair natural, or styled it for the fun of it; it wasn’t your enthralling eyes that seemed to almost squint close because your cheeks became so full of delight with your spellbinding laugh; and it definitely wasn’t your apologetic reassurance that everything was okay to the kid from the drama club who accidentally bumped into you, causing you to drop your books, and you gave Andy McAvoy a stern talking to when he tried to defend your honor with violence against the poor kid. 

No, it was none of that that caught Eddie Munson’s attention to you (he forced himself to believe).

But now, things are different.

He’d actually gotten a chance to talk to you—yes, that cafeteria instance was the first time Eddie Munson had ever actually spoken to you, and he berated you with dehumanizing comments—and he blew it with his rash decision to automate you into a box of prissy cheerleaders that had nothing better to do than gossip with their friends- ah yes, that box, that was formulated by sexist losers who used it to justified their mean actions against innocent teenage girls. Oh, fuck, Eddie cringed to himself at the sudden self-realization. 

He had to fix this. He didn’t even have to confess his feelings—which, he didn’t have *cough* *cough*—he just had to apologize for his mistakes. What he wanted to believe to be patronizing was actually sincere on your part, and you didn’t deserve any of his degrading tirade. And his conscience was letting it be known. Resuming the campaign had been a shit-show that Friday, when all he could focus on was your crying face. It became even worse when he realized that he’d never actually seen you drive—always painfully third-wheeling with Jason Carver and Chrissy Cunningham, or silently pleading to Patrick McKinney to control Andy McAvoy when he felt entitled to nonconsensually feel you up in his convertible when they drove you to school—meaning you were probably left crying alone at night waiting to be picked up, or worse, walking home. And you did it just for him. For his friends. To be included in some stupid fucking yearbook, because he made a big deal out of it in the first place.  

Oh, shit, he was an awful fucking person, Eddie thought.  

So, come Monday morning, he would apologize. He had all weekend to find the right words, rehearse his apology to perfection, and plan when to actually say it to you. 

But Eddie Munson never got to correctly apologize to you on Monday. 

Because aforementioned, Monday was the start of the worst week of your life, and he got scared and simply watched everything happen.

- 

“No running in the halls, young lady.” Mr. Long sternly reminded, as you zoomed past him.

“Sorry, sir.” You weren’t sorry. The second he turned the corner, you picked up the pace and ran to the newspaper room, frantically attempting to shove the slender key into the slot with shaky hands. 

Earlier on Saturday, the Yearbook Committee had worked to finish the final draft of the Hawkins High 1986 Yearbook, and with the team’s effort, you all concluded the first official copy that held the recognition of all staff and students intertwined with a school year’s worth of memorabilia, squished between the glossy green and orange cover that encapsulated Hawkins High. 

And now, you were about to destroy it. 

Sixty minutes. You had sixty minutes. You managed to wake up early that Monday morning, practically running to school, and situating yourself within the newspaper room—sweaty and exhausted—an hour early before the bell rang to commence the school day. In truth, you’d like to say you were a badass, and demolished the yearbook with no regrets, but reality had quite literally sucked, and you were panicking for a solid five minutes before you came to a consensus. 

It had to be destroyed- well, not destroyed, just unbinded. God, you were such a dramatic coward. 

See, that Saturday afternoon with the Yearbook Committee, you had done your part, you really did. You gathered photos, helped have them printed, assisted Nancy Wheeler with the placement of pages, and took over binding the book together when Fred Benson’s scrawny hands cramped into oblivion. You also may have—very discreetly—had Hellfire’s picture printed, created an entirely new page to fit them between the Glee and Math Club, and it was then you realized you didn’t even know half of their names. It had never occurred to you on Friday night that—with the exception of Eddie Munson, Lucas Sinclair, and Mike Wheeler—you never caught the names of the other four members, prompting you to lose precious time after having to locate their stupid names in the student registry for identification—they weren’t stupid, you were just really frustrated at that point.

And now, on this fine Monday morning, you persevered through blistering callouses, contracting muscles, and sore knuckles to unbind and bind back the yearbook with an additional page within the “Hawkins High’s Clubs” recognitional section.

Hellfire’s page.

And it was perfect. 

The pages were still intact with their crisp stiffness of that of a newly unopened book, and you cleaned off any smudges that impaired the quality of work within the creation. You stood back. You couldn’t help the soft giggle that left your lips at the mere sight of Hellfire sticking out like a sore thumb against the formality of the other photos—in true Hellfire fashion. But there it was. Their title, their photo, and their names that gave them the minimal ask to simply be acknowledged in a school that consistently disregarded their beings, and you were happy they finally got it. They deserved it. Even if Friday’s event left you crying alone in your bed feeling awful. It was worth it. Your thumb gently caressed the smooth page of their photo—Eddie’s photo—and reminisced on that night.

Had you actually done something terrible? Was Eddie right to call you out on your actions? You certainly knew you hadn’t caused this entire commotion out of pitiness, though you understood where he may have interpreted it as such. I mean, even though you never did anything, your friends made his life a living hell, villainizing his differences, casting him as a danger to society, affecting his life beyond just a superficial high school social life. It was true torment. 

You understood the facade which Eddie Munson had to put on to protect himself, but what you didn’t understand was the sudden shallowness that appeared when you thought you proved yourself to be more than just a ditzy cheerleader. Why were you even trying to prove yourself to some guy? Eddie Munson was an awful person. Right? He yelled at you, judged you, degraded you, and all for nothing- well, as far as you knew. So yeah, Eddie Munson was an awful person. You may have understood him, but he was still an asshole. You’d done your part, adding Hellfire to the yearbook, and that was that. That was all you needed to do. You no longer had to think about his stupid feelings, his stupid hair—which you totally didn’t want to run your hands through—his stupid brown eyes that made you shutter as they bore into yours, and his stupidly beautiful smile. You also kinda wondered how his hands might feel on your-

“What are you doing here?”

Jesus Christ, how long has Nancy Wheeler been standing there? You didn’t even hear the door open. 

“Uh, um, j-just looking at the, uh, yearbook?” You mumbled. You wished you had better control over your facial expressions, because right now, Nancy Wheeler was eyeing the fuck out of your worried guise. 

“You came to school early just to see the yearbook?” She questioned. 

“W-well, yeah, I mean, isn’t that why you’re here early? …Right?” You prayed.

Nancy blinked. “Yeah, I guess, just had to make sure everything was correct before Fred takes it to make copies.”

“Oh, Fred’s here?” You piqued with interest. 

Fred Benson didn’t actually pique your interest all too much—though, it was quite fascinating seeing how fast his slender fingers would cramp after just a couple minutes of working—but he did give the perfect escape from Nancy Wheeler’s captious glare. 

“Uh, yeah, he’s out front waiting for the book-”

“I’ll hand it to him!” You interjected, watching her face scrunch with confusion. You could only awkwardly laugh, “You know me and Fred,” you zoomed right past her, “just always so, uh… tight.” And you left without further explanation. 

Shoving Mr. Long’s word of chastisement right up his ass, you ran down the empty hall, yearbook held tightly in your tired hands, as you rejected any of Nancy’s calls for you to come back. Reaching the double glass doors, you spotted Fred mindlessly tweaking with his camera in the front seat of his car.

“Fred!” You could visibly make out the bewildered “huh” that fell from his gaping mouth from your sudden appearance. “Fred, here take this and go!” You shoved the yearbook past the small crack of his window. 

“W-wait, didn’t Nancy want to che-”

“No, she sent me to give this to you!” You urged. “And she said go now, or else the copies won’t be done in time!” My god, the entirety of this situation had you lying more than you ever had in your life. 

“But the distributors don’t close until six-”

“Fred, I don’t care!” You whined. “Do you really want to make Nancy upset?!” If your calculations were correct, Nancy Wheeler’s flats were currently speed walking—she was one to follow the rules—past Mrs. Durberry’s science classroom, meaning you had ten more seconds until she appeared. 

“Well, n-no-”

“Then drive! Now, please!” He scrambled to turn his car on, and luckily, the old piece of junk managed to roar alive with a heavy blow of carbon dioxide, and you heaved watching Fred Benson skirt past the incoming wave of students on bikes and cars, leaving tire tracks on the cracked pavements. When he came back, you’d be sure to apologize for demanding him so aggressively.

Nancy Wheeler screamed your name. 

Turning around, she came pummeling towards you with a might of pure irritation. “What the hell was that?! I didn’t even get to check the book!”

You huffed with exhaustion. It was only 8:18 a.m and it had already been a long day. “Nance, come on, I’ve been on the Yearbook Committee for the last three years, don’t you trust me by now?” Admittedly, guilting Nancy probably wasn’t the best option, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

“I don’t care how long you’ve been in the committee, I have the authority to make final calls, not you!” Gee, you really had an act for getting people to yell in your face. Were you actually the problem?

“Look, I understand, but I promise everything was perfect with the yearbook. I mean, come on, you saw the finished product on Saturday when we completed it.” You reasoned. 

Nancy took a deep breath to regulate herself. “This is your only strike.” She pointed a finger at you like a child. “You pull something like this again, and you're off the committee. Understand?”

You swallowed thickly. The trouble you went through just for Eddie Munson- his friends. Just for his friends. “Yes, I understand.” You submitted quietly. “But I promise, the book was fine, everything is going to be perfectly okay.”

Everything was not perfectly okay.

Because unlike your little white lie of being “tight” with Fred Benson, he actually was with Nancy Wheeler, and, boy, did he rat you out when he paged through the printed copies of the yearbook and found the seven believed satanic cultists mischievously smiling right back at him, tainting the committee’s precious work. 

-

It was in the midst of your A.P U.S History class when the staticy call of your name over the intercom interrupted Mr. Whitney’s lecture of the Gulf of Tonkin Resolution, and prompted you to the principal’s office at 10:57 a.m. Now, it wasn’t an unusual occurrence for Principal Higgins to often call you down as you were a valued student representative of Hawkins High, though you quickly knew your visitation had nothing in relation to an honor medal or scholarship award. No, it became quite evident that such subject matter was beyond any congratulations to you, because upon entering, you were faced with a choleric Nancy Wheeler, displeased Principal Higgins, and timid Fred Benson. You were fucking screwed, I mean, Principal Higgins quite literally had a yearbook in his hand. Crazy part of it all is that a good third of your being actually believed you may have gotten away with it, but they managed to find out in a matter of two fucking hours. Who were you kidding?

There was only so much nonchalant-ness you could mask, though your previous revelation of being unable to control your facial expressions was really biting you in the ass, and your insistent cracking under pressure was palpable. 

Your wide eyes flashed between everyone as they stared you down. You didn’t speak. You couldn’t even manage to speak. And they didn’t speak. Why wasn’t anyone speaking?

“Aw, you miss me already, Higgy-”

Everyone’s attention snapped at Eddie’s sneering voice as he strutted his grand entrance, though he was quick to flinch back in surprise when he saw everyone looking at him. And you, shit you were here! You were here looking at him. He’d been searching for you all morning just to apologize, and now you were here… with everyone… why was everyone here?

“Now that I have everyone situated,” Principal Higgins cleared his throat, “I’d like to clear up a matter that has been brought to my attention. I’m sure as you all are well aware of, an unauthorized change has been made to our yearbook and I’m looking to get to the bottom of it.” Higgins turned to you, “Ms. Y/L/N,” he spoke with such care, “this is a safe place for honesty. Did Mr. Munson subject you into making these changes?” With a dramatic slam to his desk, the yearbook was turned open to showcase Hellfire’s designated spot on the page.

“What?!” Both you and Eddie questioned in unison. 

“I didn’t “subject” her to shit!” He was quick to rightfully defend. 

“Language!” Principal Higgins was even quicker to yell back. 

The atmosphere was taut, and it felt like their judgmental stares were swallowing you into an endless blackhole of utter disappointment and failure. You couldn’t even muster up the courage to meet their gaze, simply staring at the old rug beneath your sneakers, wishing it’d come alive and consume you already. 

“Ms. Y/L/N, is that true?” Principal Higgins lectured you.

A part of Eddie actually wished you would have lied and accused him of being the aggressor while you were the helpless victim, because that was the usual reality of Eddie Munson: to be denigrated. It would have justified his previous beratement against you from Friday, it would have supported his initial beliefs about you, it would have cleared him of being an asshole, and most of all, it would have changed the way he viewed you, from a genuinely beautiful person inside and out that took a sincere interest in bringing simple recognition to him and his friends to a cold-hearted superficial bitch that chalked up this elaborate plan as a vendetta with your jock friends.

But Eddie Munson knew you weren’t like that.

Which only made it hurt worse when he watched you pain through the sting of your manicured nails stabbing into your palms and your teeth sinking into your tender lip.

“Y-yes, that’s, uh, true, sir.” Your voice was so delicate, Eddie was ready to jump in and just take the blame. “He didn’t make me do anything, it was, uh, all me. I lied, and made him and his friends take the photo. And, well, I, uh, added the page and told Fred to print it.”

You shuddered at the sudden slap of the book, as Principal Higgins closed it with much despondency against you. “And is there valid reasoning as to why?!” Principal Higgins wasn’t one to be known for his placidness and he was quick to make that apparent. “You are the best student at this establishment, you should not be falling under influence of a hooligan like Mr. Munson! How have you fallen so naive all of a sudden?!”

You were really tugging on Eddie’s heart the way your eyes grew round with panic, completely helpless to the grown man scolding you, just as he did last Friday. And while he may have caused it the initial time, he’d be damned to watch it happen to you again.

“Hey, look, you can insult me all you want, but you don’t have to yell at her like she made some dire mistake!” Eddie lambasted Principal Higgins, far more harsh than any regular tone Eddie used when he was regularly being reprimanded. 

Higgins could only scoff in disbelief. “Vandalizing school property isn’t a mistake to you, Mr. Munson?! Well, given your grotesque track record of uncivilized activities, it seems as though I’ve answered my own question!” He sneered back with intended offense.

“Please, ‘vandalizing school property?!’” Eddie mocked. “She fucking put our picture in the yearbook, and for good reason, too. You’re the one at fault here, excluding students from recognition!”

The thudding sound of your heartbeat was completely muting you from the onslaught of shouts that was suffocating you in the tight room. While Nancy Wheeler was beginning to contemplate if telling Principal Higgins was too far, Fred Benson was merely watching with joy that none of the blame was being casted on him, and you, well, your body was racking with stiffness, as it suddenly felt like your airway was tightening every breath out of you. Your hands began shaking by your side, unable to control the instantaneous wave of trepidation, as everything was beginning to blur around you. 

And no one was noticing. 

“I have rightful reasons to exclude your gang of misfits from my yearbook!” Principal Higgins walked from his desk, standing against Eddie with pure spite in his eyes. “You and your posse of cons and aberrations have done nothing but taint the reputation of our school and town, running around like imbeciles who have nothing better to do than waste their lives away! And I will not stand to have you be associated with the work I’ve done to correct this school from delinquents like yourself!”

Chest heaving and nostrils flared, the Eddie Munson from the cafeteria instance was back, though angrier, and he was two seconds from actually gaining an assault charge from hitting Principal Higgins square in the face. But the older man was quick to turn, and eject his dissonant castigate towards you. 

“And you, missy!” Your eyes were blinking posthaste with fret to control the swell of tears that were burning your eyes, at the clashing outburst being directed against you. “How did you even gain the facilities to take such picture?!” 

Your mouth was dry with consternation, unable to formulate words, and simply quivering your mouth open.

And unlucky for you, Fred Benson spoke for you.

“After our yearbook meeting on Friday,” heads snapped at his gravelly voice, “she said she was going to stay after to work, and that she would lock up herself. She must have taken the key, and stolen a camera.”

Higgins scoffed with great disgust as he judged you, before turning to Nancy. “Ms. Wheeler, as president of the Yearbook Committee, had you permitted her to do so?” 

Nancy looked at you with guilt. She hadn’t anticipated the situation to blow up this much, though she spoke honestly to the authoritative eyes of Higgins. “Uh, no, I didn’t.” She meekly answered. 

“And Mr. Munson,” Eddie rolled his eyes, trying to control his frustrations before doing something he wouldn’t be able to take back. “When did Ms. Y/L/N enforce these photos?”

“Why the hell does that even matter?” Eddie gritted with a clenched jaw of tension.

“Mr. Munson, you choose not to answer me, and I will not hesitate to place you as an accomplice, and you certainly cannot afford another detention or suspension if you’re planning on finally ending this school year as a graduate.” In a perfect world, Eddie Munson would have lied for you and lessened whatever punishment you were about to receive, but Hawkins, Indiana was far from perfect, the threat made him budge under the pressure of his potential future and your distraught eyes.

“It was, uh, after her cheer practice. After school.” He sheepishly murmured with regret.

“Ah,” Principal Higgins turned to your shaking stature. “So, not only did you make unauthorized changes to the school yearbook, but you stole school property, used our equipment prohibitively outside of school hours, and actively unsubordinated my authority. I have to say, I am awfully disappointed in the person you have become, Ms. Y/L/N, and I am ashamed to have valued you so highly when you simply choose to go down the path of delinquency.” Everything about Principal Higgins words were humiliating and slammed you into a vicious cycle of believing the worst about yourself. “Finish the rest of your day,” he sighed, “but you’ll be suspended for the rest of the week for your actions.” Your heart sank at his news, and Eddie stood dumbfounded that he contributed to it. 

Your visions grew blurry under the swell of tears, and your breath was becoming sporadic with panic, and everyone just kept fucking staring at you. “N-no, sir, p-please!” You choked, “I-I have scholarships, a-and acceptances that I-I’m still waiting to hear back from, this could ruin that for me, p-please, sir!”

While your pleads were being disregarded, everyone stood stun watching your fate unfold in front of you. Eddie Munson didn’t know what to do. Nobody did. On top of being berated by him from Friday, you were now facing the worst possible consequence for something so trivial, and he watched it happen. Granted, there was quite literally nothing Eddie could do to fix the situation, but seeing you stand there, panicked about your future and trying to conceal your incoming sobs through the ache of heart palpitations, it was fucking excruciating for him to witness. 

“You should have thought about that before you made your choices. Everything is on you.” His words were ringing in your ear like a loop confirming everything you’ve ever hated about yourself. “I’ll be sure to let your father know of the news, and as for your spot on the committee, it is up to Ms. Wheeler to determine where you stand. Now go, everyone back to class.”

Fred Benson was first to leave, giddy to have been cleared from any trouble. Eddie Munson should have left, but he couldn’t stand to leave, simply watching you turn to Nancy Wheeler in a flash. Your round eyes were pleading to her to let you stay, but her previous words of “This is your only strike,” was tormenting you. She sighed, “I’m sorry,” and the shake of her head answered everything before she could verbalize it. 

You were off. 

You stormed out of the room, bumping shoulders with Eddie, though with no malice intent, just simply needing to get out. The second you reached the clearing of the empty hall, your tears were drowning your cheeks, your sobs so unbearably hard your breathing staggered for release. Suddenly, your little cashmere sweater felt like it was sticking to your skin, giving you hot flashes that brought dizziness to your pounding head. The blood battering your ears cleared out any noise, including Eddie’s calls of your name. He reached out to hold your arm, causing you to severely flinch in hysteria, and he appeared devastatingly concerned for your state of being.

“Sorry! Ar-are you okay?” He winced at the loud sob you choked out, as he felt stupid for even asking you that question. “Look, everything, uh, everything’s gonna be fine.” He rushed to reassure. In truth, Eddie Munson was completely talking out of his ass, he didn’t know if everything was going to be fine, your panicking was just causing him to panic, and all he wanted was for you to be okay. “J-just, uh, breathe for me.” He offered. 

“I-I c-can’t! I’m scared, Eddie, help me!” You pleaded with frightened eyes. 

Your beg hit too close to home. Suddenly, Eddie was a little boy curled up in the corner of his trashed living room, as he watched his parents abuse one another with words and fists. He pleaded the same words to his parents, who merely ignored his shaking little body. Such horrific events disfigured Eddie Munson’s belief of healing. No one cared for his emotions, no one cared for his feelings, and no one cared to make sure he was okay. So, yes, Eddie Munson yelled at you Friday night because he was petrified. Petrified to be hurt, just as everyone else had done, because to Eddie Munson, that was his fate. To be hurt and to be forgotten. Maybe that’s why he cared so much about being excluded from the school yearbook. While anyone would have rightfully been upset, being excluded cemented the notion that Eddie Munson was disposable. His father spoke it, the townspeople spoke, his teachers spoke, and his peers spoke it. But you didn’t, and that fucking scared him. It’s why he yelled, it’s why he panicked, and it’s why he’d try anything to help you right now.

“I-I know, sweetheart, just listen to me, please.” He quietly spoke. “I’m not gonna touch you or anything, I just really need you to listen to me.”

You fervently nodded your head, and he sighed with relief, because though minor, it was progress, and progress was incredible.

“I, uh, I want you to focus on my voice, okay?” His wide eyes connected with your red ones. “I wouldn’t lie to you, and I mean it when I say everything will be okay. I-I’ll make sure of it.” 

Could he physically do that? No. But would he try his damn hardest, putting his being through anything to make it happen? Yes. For you.

“Okay, I want you to-”

“What are you doing to her?!”

Eddie’s eyes screwed shut with disappointment. 

Jessica fucking Lewis.

“Get away from her!” She charged past him to get to your hysterical figure. “Did you do something?!”

“No, no, I’m trying to fucking help her.” Eddie implored. “Stop yelling, she’s having a fucking panic attack.” He gritted through his teeth.

“Don’t fucking come near her ever again, you freak!” Eddie watched as you tried to get your words out, but your shrinking throat made it impossible to get your voice out, and he recoiled, watching the fear in your eyes as Jessica held a tight grip in your arms. 

But before he could stop her, Jessica was dragging you into the girls bathroom, and he stood frozen doing everything in his power to not rip out his hair in frustration. 

-

Aside from her fault-finding comments against Eddie, Jessica Lewis had actually been a fairly good friend to you through the years of cheer, connecting with the girls through the pact of lifelong sisterhood, as she insisted. Though such pact also came with unwarranted advice when she felt one of you was “falling out of line” with a pristine, perfect image. That being said, when she found you panicking at the hands of Eddie Munson, she was actually concerned, impetuous, yes, but concerned, nonetheless. She’d sat with you, decisively skipping the rest of Mrs. Otis’ home economics class, to console you, bitching out any innocent girl to leave as they attempted to alleviate themselves, while you sat heaving with the back of your thighs sticking to cold tiles of the bathroom. When you did finally manage to catch your breath and calm your heart rate to a healthy status, Jessica had petted your hair with care, constantly asking what was wrong and what Eddie had done. Through your tremored voice, you hoarsely clarified that “He didn’t do anything,” and “He was just trying to help.” That revelation had actually baffled Jessica Lewis, honestly, some part of her believing you to be lying, but she gave it a rest when you assiduously shook your head in response to her asking what was actually wrong. By then, the bell had rung to signal the start of third period.

And it was during said third period when your situation only worsened completely unbeknownst to you.

While you were in the middle of trying to focus on your quiz—which proved damn near impossible after today’s events—Fred Benson was seemingly trying to get back at you for nearly inducing him into a heart attack after your actions almost cost him his spot on the Newspaper and Yearbook Committee (In reality, Nancy Wheeler had only yelled at him for not previously checking the books).

See, once Fred had informed the rest of the Yearbook Committee of what you had done and how you were being punished, the news had spread like wildfire; nerds, geeks, punks, jocks, everyone knew one version or another. “Perfect Cheerleader Falls Under Satanic Cultist’s Influence and Vandalizes School Facilities,'' small town high school students sure had a talent to dramatize any given situation. You’d only taken a picture, that’s all it was, but the students of Hawkins High had conspired together to formulate you into a freak slut who allegedly got fucked by the Eddie Munson after cheer practice in exchange for putting his club in the yearbook.

As the students of your class hurtled to mitigate the dreaded boredom of the school day with the clashing laughter and stale food of lunch, you sighed in your seat, head pounded and anxiety still churning in your mind and stomach, slowly packing up your belongings before handing over the quiz—quite literally the worst you’ve ever performed on one. Lunch seemed like the worst possible thing to conquer, right now. Despite the horrid grumbling of your stomach, you felt no need to satiate that hunger, as your appetite was long gone for the afternoon. In addition, you’d known Jessica Lewis long enough to know that she had informed all your friends of your panic attack, and if you chose to call her out on it, you knew you would only be met with a “I’m only trying to help,” as if you needed an intervention. She’d done it to Paige Semore when the girl healthy gained a couple pounds over the summer and got ridiculed by Jess.

But when you entered the cafeteria, you quickly wished you were subjected to Jessica Lewis’ harmful “advice”, rather than the reality you got.  

The sound of the heavy double doors announced your arrival, and suddenly all eyes were on you. No, like quite literally, all eyes were on you. No greeting smiles from acquaintances, no shying-away looks from crushing students, no bright wave hello from Chrissy Cunningham from across the cafeteria, in fact, she was heavily avoiding you, seemingly finding the table more interesting as Jason Carver glared at you. Everyone was staring at you as if, without notice, you had become the town pariah. Because you had. Your perturbation had bombarded you like a missile hit, as quiet whispers flooded your senses. Peering around you caught his eyeline. Eddie. His brows had severely been furrowed with much worry, because he knew. He knew how quickly it went around, and he knew just how bad the news got twisted. Now, he was no stranger to the onslaught of destructive rumors, but you weren’t, and with the day you had, his chest was pounding with dread for you.

Chalking it up to merely being in your head, you swallowed the lump in your throat, and with quick steps, you sped to your usual lunch table. But everyone kept staring- your friends were staring. “Can someone tell me what the hell is going on?” You whispered, as they genuinely looked at you with disgust. 

“Why don’t you tell us?” Jason scowled. “Seems like you’re the one who caused all of this, you desperate slut.”

Your mouth dropped incredulously. “What did you just call me?”

“You fucking heard me!” Jason stood from his chair, rejecting Chrissy’s quiet ask to not cause a scene. “It’s exactly what you are.” He laughed.

Eddie Munson’s residual anger was fueling. Hard. He stood from his chair all the way across the room, metal legs scraping the floor with a deafening screech. But his presence only caught the worst attention. “Oh, would you look at that? Your little freak coming to help you?”

Eddie faltered at your watery eyes, begging for everything to just stop. If he spoke, nothing would help you. “What are you talking about?” Your voice stung with pleads to just understand what was happening to you.

“Stop acting like you don’t fucking know!” Andy’s booming voice startled you. “You wanna choose some gross freak to fuck, then fine by us, go right ahead, but don’t think that you’ll be able to with us!” Andy McAvoy was taking it far more personal. He liked you. That was obvious. But hearing the rumors simply led him to believe you chose Eddie Munson over him.

“What?” Your voice cracked in distress. 

Eddie had had enough. 

“She didn’t fucking do anything!” He marched his way over. All the boys of the basketball team stood in preparation for a fight that Eddie Munson was known to love to finish. Finish, not start. “Your bland lives got that fucking boring you all have to go around making shit up to make things interesting?! She didn’t do anything!”

“Aw, defending your precious little fuck toy, isn’t that cu-”

Chrissy Cunningham's shrilling scream startled the entire cafeteria as Jason Carver’s blood stained her powdery skin. You flinched at the bone-crunching punch that busted Jason’s pretty face, and everything felt heavy in your chest. Your hands were beginning to shake beyond your control, as everything was horrifyingly disfiguring in front of you. It was happening again. Before your mind was about to shut off from the assault of today’s events, your instinct had elicited all rash decisions, and you had to leave. All you could comprehend was the diffusing sounds of students instigating the fight before everything fell silent and you trudged down the hall to escape.

Staff were quick to call Eddie’s name before another detrimental hit was casted upon Jason. It was only then, Eddie’s judgment was left unclouded, and he noticed you were gone. “Did she leave?” He hadn’t necessarily asked anyone in particular, moreso questioning himself, but Chrissy Cunningham had ardently answered him with a swift nod of her head and bulging eyes of fear. 

Eddie broke through the doors with force, catching you near the end of the hall. “Y/N!” You didn’t turn, though. Every repeated call of your name fell with no response, and he chased you down, following you into the zephyr of the afternoon weather outside. “Y/N, c’mon, wait!” He’d grabbed your arm.

“What?!”

Eddie staggered at your biting tone. Not once, in the four years he’d known of you—freshman to senior year—had he ever heard your voice so malicious, yet drowning in urgence to make everything stop. Your inconsolable state devastating him helplessly. 

“I-I’m sorry.” He sighed so softly.

“‘Sorry?’” You affronted. “Now you’re sorry?! After everything that’s happened! Why, is it out of fucking pity?!” Internally, Eddie was begging you to stop, because if you kept yelling at him like this, his defense mechanism was going to lash out, especially when he was already angry from everything that’s just happened. “I don’t want some stupid apology, not when every time you appear, my life gets worse! I just want you away!” You cried.

Eddie scoffed in disbelief. Were you actually blaming him for all this? No, you weren’t. But after the day you just had, you were not looking to be comforted by someone who partially hurt you. But Eddie Munson couldn’t understand. His judgment had a habit of being clouded; his cynicism about anything good happening to him had protected him from a lifetime of hurt, and now, unfortunately, your rightfully pent up polemic about him was believing his suspicions to be true. 

“This isn’t my fucking fault, you’re the one who wanted to take our picture in the first place!” He shouted, shielding his vulnerability. 

“Because you made a big deal out of it!” You screamed with frustration. “You yelled at me first, you said mean things to me first- why- why were you so mean to me?!” You blubbered through drowning tears.

“Because- be- ugh,” Eddie pained with vexation. “You fucking terrify me, okay?! You terrify the living shit out of me!” Guarding his tearing eyes from your shattered being, he groaned realizing you weren’t going to understand unless he opened up, but he couldn’t bear to, and maybe that was the best solution to move on, run away. “It’s just fucking hard when, you know, you look like that and you’re fucking you, and I’m just me, and you have a great life-”

“‘Great life?!’” You derided through tears. “You know nothing about my life!” You shoved him. “You know nothing about me!” You shoved him again. Eddie was quick to retrain your wrist in a tight grip, preventing you from touching him again, no matter how hard you tried. “Stop acting like you know everything about me when you know absolutely nothing! I’m not going to stand here, and let you say mean things to me, when you know nothing, do you understand?! I have never done anything to you, and I never will, because unlike you, I’m not some sulking asshole who can’t handle their fucking emotions, and uses their sorry life to lash out at people because they’re too pathetic to deal with their own problems!”

And maybe your rash psycho analysis of Eddie Munson was too much, or not harsh enough, but either way, your critical comments derailed him off the edge of sanity. He aggressively dropped your wrist, and got into your face with a full might of fury. “You are such a miserable bitch!” He shouted, invading your space with intent, causing you to wince and step away from him, but he wasn’t relenting. “For once, you got a fucking taste of what your bullshit friends have been doing to me, and now you can’t fucking handle it?! God, just love playing the fucking victim, don’t you?! Maybe they are right, maybe you are just some fucking desperate slut craving fucking attention?! Is that why you did all this shit in the first place?!”

The way your face flashed with sudden dejection had him biting his tongue. Oh, fuck. He regretted it. He fucking immediately regretted it. 

Eddie began furiously shaking his head in denial to what he just uttered, he couldn’t believe it. “No,” he heaved out. “No, I-I didn’t mean it, I’m s-sorry.” He could only muster a whisper.

You didn’t even have the energy to fight back, merely accepting his words as truth with a silent sob that burned your being. “Yeah,” you shakily sighed with a sniffle of sobs. “I’m sorry, too, Eddie. I would have loved being your friend, and now I just want nothing to do with you.” His heart dropped at your calmness. When he first spoke those words to you, demanding you to stay away from him and his friends, he knew a deep part of him didn’t mean it. Why would he, you were fucking perfect? But you, the stillness and tranquility of your words cemented them to be the final verdict. You were done. “So please,” you wiped your drenched face from tears, “just leave me alone and stay away from me.”

No malice, no anger, no fury.

Just pure defeat.

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 | This is my first time making a tag list, and I got overwhelmed—in a good way—that I simply tagged anyone who commented. If you were not looking to be tagged, I’m so sincerely sorry, and please let me know to respect your wishes and remove you!

(Big, fat kisses to all of you) @televisionboy @batkin028 @lostdreamingwallflower @cevais @myfavoritesareproblematic @btbabyy @married-to-the-music01 @super-nova-03 @deathnote6666 @cherrytc @sleepy-bunnie @eggo-segual @bambi-horror @aheadfullofsteverogers @sademoloser @averagestudent03 @freakymunson @princess-eddie @imagine-a-world-blog1 @negativity4you

@nope-thanks @allsortsedits @callingmrsbarnes @f0rgggg @hurricane-abigail @sweet-sunflower64 @redlovett @goldstars-to-all @eddiesguitarskills @goslytherin @sashaphantomhive @maxinehufflepuffprincess @emeritusemeritus @angel-upon @middle-of-the-earth @scarletwitchwhore @my-tearsricochet @pixiepaintt @ericasdumbworld @animechick555

@gewrgia-black @hookandchain @roseanddaggerlarry @prestinalove @sebismyhubby @maddsunn

(I’m so sorry, some blogs are not popping up when I try to tag y’all, if it’s an issue on my part, I’ll try my best to fix it as soon as possible)

[hwaslayer]

flowers on the floor (kys) | part two. (final)

(part one)

—summary: when yeosang decided he was going to take a month-long vacation, he was mainly hoping to get away from his mundane routine and the stress of work. he certainly wasn’t expecting to meet you and build a connection unlike he’s ever known. when the end of his vacation nears, promises are made to keep the relationship alive, to keep it blossoming. but eventually, as the reality settles in and the distance continues to put a wedge into your relationship, you drop your end of the promise without any trace. despite the heartbreak, all yeosang can do is think about you— hoping the universe will lead you to each other again.

—pairing: kang yeosang x f!reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 25k | playlist

—content/warnings: cussing, mature language/sexually implied content, details about a toxic relationship (mentions of gaslighting, manipulation, infidelity), a lil more details about oc’s family dynamics, alcohol consumption and intoxication/yacking, party scenes, crying, lots of overthinking, insecurities, negative talk, lots of lil flashback scenes, unprotected sex, oral (f. receiving), making out, sprinkle of breast play, sorry if i missed anything - i tried to edit this quick af lol

—a/n: ty for waiting for me <33 see you soon for professor choi's debut 🤪

Yeosang can remember the last time he had a good night sleep, and it was when he was with you.

Now, he calls your dead number hoping you’ll miraculously pick up— just to be met by that automated message that reminds him that you really aren’t around and he has no idea where to find you.

It’s a shame he doesn’t even have your friends saved on his phone. He always relied on you, communicated through you. He could easily pull them up on Instagram, but he feels the need to just go to town in case you’re still hiding out in any of its corners, hiding out in its deepest crevices. 

He doesn’t think he’ll find sleep any time soon, so he gets up and gets himself ready as it hits 6am. He takes a taxi down to the train station, making it just in time to catch the 6:45am train to town. He’s got a new podcast he listens to, one that he wishes he could share with you and tell you all the details about. He misses the nights when you’d share your true crime findings and he’d talk about his current podcast obsession for hours on end. He misses hearing your voice, misses hearing how enthusiastic you get. He misses when you used to call him babe or baby; whining over the phone for his attention. 

He misses everything about you.

He’s not even sure why he’s impulsively heading to town, now that he really thinks about it. He’s truly holding onto hope that maybe you’re just hiding out and taking time away, even though his gut is telling him otherwise.

He gets into town a bit close to 11am, and he takes a taxi straight to the restaurant. Everything feels like a distant, far memory. Waves of emotions wash over him as he watches the surroundings brush past, remembering his first times here. All of his memories with you.

It feels like a fever dream.

“Yeosang!” Mingi yells with a smile on his face. He wraps his arms around him in a big hug, patting him on the back. He knows what he’s here for and he’s already sorry he can’t be of more help to him, especially when he sees that Yeosang arrived alone and without you. He wishes he can, but he can’t. He’s just as lost as he is. “Missed you, my guy.”

“Aye! Look who it is!” Keeho and Jungkook come out from the back to greet Yeosang with soft smiles and daps.

“Hey. How’s it going?” Yeosang digs his hands into his pockets. “Where’s Mina?”

“She’s at work. The dentist is open on Saturdays and she’s the office manager.” Yeosang nods as Mingi responds. “Keeho, can you take them?” He nods towards the customers that just walked in and sat down.

“Bruh, why me? What do you even do here? Act like decoration?” Jungkook snorts.

“It was good seeing you.” Jungkook smiles. “Let us know if you want anything, on the house.” He turns to finish cooking in the kitchen.

“No seriously, we missed you, dude. Stay for a bit or something. Get comfortable.” Yeosang shakes his head and smiles at Keeho.

“Thanks, I’m good. Promise.”

“You okay?” Mingi looks at him as Keeho and Jungkook busy themselves. 

“I— yeah, I don’t know.” Mingi sits and lets out a breath.

“I see Y/N isn’t with you.” Mingi says it out of worry; there’s no tension, no bad blood, no anger behind it. He’s not teasing and pushing Yeosang’s buttons. He is just worried.

“And I see she isn’t with you, either.” Yeosang purses his lips— the hope he had slowly dwindling and lowering on the gauge. 

“Yeo, I’m not sure what to tell you. She was here, then she was gone.”

“Did she—“ Yeosang slightly shakes his head. “Did she tell you where?”

“I’m sorry, dude. I really wish I could tell you, but I don’t know anything. She didn’t say anything to anyone. Just.. left. When she was supposed to be back at work after visiting you, we hadn’t heard from her or seen her all day. We went to her studio and the landlord said she packed up and left, never came back.” Yeosang sighs and it breaks Mingi’s heart a bit. “I tried to reach out to her and check up on her but her old number doesn’t even go through anymore.”

“Yeah.” Is all Yeosang says.

“I’m sorry.” Mingi looks at him. “So, she never came to see you that week?”

“No. I-I waited for her when she was supposed to come. For almost an hour. She never showed. Her number was dead by then.” Mingi shakes his head.

“It doesn’t make sense.” Mingi mutters, but he’s mostly thinking outloud, saying it to himself.

“It doesn’t. I don’t really know what to do.”

“I’m sorry.” Is all Mingi can say, because what else can he do? He doesn’t know anything. None of them do. “We’re gonna continue keeping an eye out for her. Any sign of her. You’ll be the first to know.” He hands Yeosang his phone. “I realized we all never got your number.” Yeosang chuckles a bit.

“I was eventually going to ask, but yeah. I got comfortable with Y/N being around and sending messages on my behalf.” He plugs in his number and hands the phone back to Mingi. Mingi sends him a message and gives him a tiny, pursed smile before tucking his phone in his pocket.

“That’s me. I sent you Keeho’s, Jungkook’s and Mina’s, too.”

“Thanks.”

“It probably sounds dumb with the circumstances, but give her some time. I think she’ll come around.”

“Mm.” Yeosang hums. “I just hope she’s okay.” There’s a slight pause between the two before Mingi speaks up again.

“Want anything for the road?” Yeosang shakes his head.

“I’m good. I’ll see you guys again soon. Maybe?” Mingi brings him in for a hug and nods.

“Soon.” Yeosang waves to Keeho and Jungkook before stepping out of the restaurant, taking in the smell of the ocean nearby. 

“Shouldn’t we file a missing person’s report or something? Like.. she’s deadass missing. Is no one getting that?” Keeho asks.

“No.” Jungkook shakes his head. “Keep your voice down.”

“What do you mean no, Kook? We have no idea where she’s at, even Yeosang. She could be hurt.”

“No, I know she’s not. I know she’s out there somewhere, okay. Just give her some time. Let’s not make it any bigger than it should be right now, she probably has a reason and needs to be by herself. Let’s trust her, alright?” Keeho and Mingi let out deep sighs before nodding. Jungkook isn’t sure where he’s pulling this from— honestly, he does feel it within him, instinctual if you may, that you’re fine and that you’ve managed to find a safe place.

“Fine. But if it gets too long, I’m serious.” Keeho tosses the rag onto the counter and continues to tend to the customers sitting around.

Yeosang takes a small stroll along the beach, kicking along at the rocks and listening to the waves crash against the surface. It hurts a little to be here without you, because everything about this town is you. He swallows the lump in his throat when he feels the dull pain in his chest, doing his best to push it aside and breathe through it. He walks deeper into town, waving and conversing with a few people he had met from his visit. They’re all happy to see him, and they all question where you’ve been since they hadn’t seen you around. All he can do is shrug in return and tell them that he hasn’t seen you either.

It’s all a big game. 

They sympathize with him, maybe some even pity him, but they send him off with warm smiles and big hugs— telling him they hope to see him again for longer soon. He hopes so, too. But next time, he hopes to be with you. Happy again.

Whenever that is. 

He’ll tell himself it’s soon, even though he knows he’ll have to go through a long ass maze before he gets to the end.

Jeongin looks at you as you sort through your two luggages and fix your clothes into the three drawers on the side of your bed frame and in your tiny closet. He doesn’t even know what to say— quite frankly, he’s still trying to process the fact that you’re in front of him. In the flesh. Organizing your clothes because.. you’re back home and staying?

“So.. what? You just upped and left everyone? Your other friends? You didn’t tell anyone anything?”

“Nope.”

“You even got a new number. How are they supposed to contact you?”

“They don’t. For now.”

“Even that visitor guy you were seeing?” You stay quiet. It breaks your heart when Yeosang’s face flashes in your head. You miss him, you miss everything about him. And you wish it was easier to explain yourself, to tell him why you felt the need to run.

You just don’t think you deserve him. How could you be the person he deserved? What if you failed miserably and disappointed him, too? You couldn’t live with it. Not another disappointment.

“What if they file a missing person’s report, hm?” Jeongin tilts his head and you pause, looking at him dead in the eye. Jeongin realizes he doesn’t even know any of your friends from town by name. You’ve talked about this visitor guy so often, yet you’ve never said his name. He knows him as the visitor, that’s it. He’ll never understand why you tried to keep the two parts separate, but he guesses it’s making sense now— because of times like these, when you just need to be away and alone where no one can find you. But, why? What is the reason this time?

“They won’t, okay? I’m going to call them soon. Just.. let me get my things together.”

“No one else knows you’re here? Ryujin, Bin and Sannie?”

“Nope. I’m gonna see Ryujin tomorrow.”

“Your parents—”

“Not one word to them, Yang Jeongin.” You look at him. “Not yet. I’ll talk to them when I’m ready.”

“Okay, but my parents are gonna wonder why I keep leaving the house Y/N. Did you not think about any of this?” You sigh.

“No. I’m sorry. But, don’t worry about it, okay? I’ll get to them before your parents question anything.”

“What’re you planning to do here then?” The questions continue to spill out of Jeongin’s mouth because he sure as hell wasn’t expecting you to call him in the middle of the day, asking for you to meet him at some random house. He finds you’ve rented a tiny in-law, using the savings you’ve accumulated over time, but that’s not really the issue. He’s happy you’re back home [in a sense], but you look frazzled. All over the place. Sad. Hurt. And Jeongin isn’t sure why you’re hiding from everyone and why you’ve decided to do this without letting anyone know. But, he can’t say he’s surprised because you did leave after graduation without saying much. He can’t say he’s surprised because you tend to run, and you run often.

“I don’t know, Innie. I just don’t know how to explain it. I wanna get myself together and get a job at the vet or aquarium, start working my way up so people start finally realizing I do have a purpose.” You pathetically chuckle. You just want to feel worthy. Like you have something to be proud of. Like you can finally genuinely be proud of yourself. For things you wanna do.

“Okay, cool. I’m all for it. But.. did something happen? Did he hurt you?” You remain quiet, tears threatening to spill. “Y/N, did he hurt—”

“No.” You sniffle. “He could never. It was me.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t deserve him. What if I disappoint him, too? What if I can’t be the person he needs? What if he realizes I’m not shit?”

“Don’t say stuff like that.” He furrows his brows. “Why didn’t you give him a chance? It sounded like he cared about you, so why did you just let it go?” 

“I can’t explain it. I just don’t wanna be another disappointment to someone, especially him.”

“Y/N.”

“Jeongin, please. Okay? I’m tired. I’m sorry, I just don’t know how to explain it to you. Please be on my team right now, that’s all I need.” He sees the tears slowly falling, staining your cheeks as you continue to unpack and keep quiet. He lets out a small sigh, shifting in his position on the hardwood floor to embrace you in a warm, tight hug.

“I am, I am. I’m sorry. I just wanted to be sure you were okay and not hurt.”

“I am.” It’s another lie, but it’ll help hold over until Jeongin becomes more curious.

“Can you do one thing for me, though?”

“Hm?” You hum.

“Can you promise me you’ll call your friends from town? They’re going to worry about you.”

“I will.” He nods and wipes his sweaty hands on his jeans before standing.

“Should we go out and buy you some more furniture?” He looks around the incredibly empty and sad room. “Maybe some decor? I don’t know. Give your space some life?”

“If you buy me dinner, intern.” He rolls his eyes.

“Fine.” You chuckle, wiping away the stragglers running down your cheeks before hugging him tightly. Closely. You really missed your cousin, and he’s the comfort you need right now. Jeongin wraps his arms around you before squeezing lightly and pulling away. 

“Let’s go.”

Jeongin takes you to a small furniture and decor store nearby, one that isn’t typically crowded or sought out. It does have cute furniture in stock, and you manage to grab a few necessities and prints to hang around your room. You don’t grab much, though. It’s enough to fit in Jeongin’s car [barely]. As promised, he takes you out to dinner while you sort through your employment plans with him. At the same time, he manages to update you about how his internship is going, how he’s trying his hardest to work hard and make sure he’s keeping up. You can only imagine how tough it can get for him, but he’s a smart and bright kid— you know he’ll succeed either way. You stay for about 2.5 hours before the sun finally sets and you’re heading back to your place under the twinkling stars, the bright moonlight.

While you’re fixing up your place with Jeongin that night, Yeosang finds himself getting wasted just a ways away. He doesn’t know you’re so close; yet, in his mind you’re so far and distant. So gone and lost. And that’s what kills him every time he thinks about it because he just doesn’t know where you are. It kills him because he still holds so much love for you, and he all he wants to do is hold you. Tell you everything will be okay. Console you. Be the man you need.

You won’t let him, though. Why?

“Yeo, that’s enough.” Chaerin pouts as she shoves the soju bottle away. “Let’s go.” 

“One more.” He says, struggling to bring the shot glass to his lips. Wooyoung takes the glass from his hand and takes the shot on his behalf, no longer wanting Yeosang to drown in all this alcohol tonight.

“Let’s go.” Wooyoung repeats, standing to his feet while Jongho helps Yeosang up.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Jongho struggles to hold up a drunk, stumbling Yeosang. He’s got an arm over his shoulder but he keeps slumping over, making it harder for Jongho to take proper steps.

“You okay?” Jongho asks even though he’s clearly not. But, he needs to know if they should stop and sit. If he’s gonna yack.

“Will I ever be?!” Yeosang drunkly responds with a pathetic laugh. “She fucking left and I have no idea where the hell she is! I’m so stupid— this is all so fuuuuucking stupid!” His tone raises, causing a few passerbyers to look their way.

“Yeo, come on.” Woo says, handing him some water. “Stop.”

“I just wish she knew how fucked up this is.” Yeosang laughs again. “Isn’t so fucked up how much I love her and she doesn’t even feel the same?”

“I don’t mean to play devil’s advocate right now, but you don’t know that. You don’t know what happened.”

“She left, that’s what happened! If she felt the same, she wouldn’t have done that! You d-don’t do that to people w-who—” He hiccups as he struggles to get his thought out.

“Okay, okay.” Chaerin diffuses the situation. “Let’s just go home and get you in bed.” She looks at Jongho and Wooyoung, both having the same, concerned expression on their faces. They finally make it to the car and shove Yeosang’s drunk ass in the back seat, with Chaerin holding a plastic bag in hand just in case. 

Luckily though, Yeosang falls asleep for the short ride home. It becomes a mess all over again when Wooyoung steps out of the car to let him out— Yeosang stumbling over himself and damn near falling before leaning onto the side of his apartment and yacking his brains out. Chaerin stays with him until he’s good, all 3 helping him into his apartment and into bed. Chaerin gives him one last look as she sets the water bottle and trash can near his bed, a small frown forming on her lips as she leaves and shuts his door behind her. Wooyoung decides to stay behind and plops onto Yeosang’s couch, making himself comfortable for the rest of the night. He scrolls through his phone, pulling up IG in hopes of finding any possible way to get into contact with you. He knows it’s a reach, but he just feels like as Yeosang’s bestfriend, he needs to try.

He tries your name, but of course, nothing comes up. He looks up the restaurant Yeosang told him about, and he sees the restaurant’s IG page. He’s not sure what he can do with it, though. Even if you’re in the photos, it doesn’t give him anything. Yeosang has already traveled back to town to get more info from your friends, but apparently, they aren’t aware of your whereabouts either.

Where the fuck were you?

He’s already feeling frustrated with the fact that he has no other leads; he can only imagine what Yeosang’s going through right now. He wished he knew, but he’s at a loss. Wooyoung’s just hoping Yeo will at least get a sign soon. He doesn’t think you’ll hide out for long, there’s no way. Even with all this shit, he truly believes you’ll still find Yeosang and talk this out. He’s holding out hope, especially if his bestfriend can’t right now. It’s hard to tell if it’s a good or bad thing at this moment, but he can at least be a pillar of strength for Yeosang if it all falls through. Or, a pillar of strength to push him forward because he knows how much he cares about you.

All these thoughts swirling in his head put him to sleep pretty quickly, and Wooyoung falls into a deep sleep— better than one that he expected. However, that next morning is rough for Yeosang, to say the least. He wakes up and has an awful, pounding headache. He forces himself to get up anyway; hops in a quick, hot shower and heads out to find Wooyoung lying down on his couch, now stirring himself awake.

“You good?”

“Define good.” Yeosang plops on the floor by him.

“Guess not.” He snorts. “Do you remember last night?”

“Surprisingly, yeah. I do.” Yeosang sighs. “Sorry. I gotta call Chaerin and Jongho to apologize.”

“It’s all good. We know it’s tough right now.”

“Still.”

“So, what now?”

“I don’t know. I’ll keep looking, I guess. I—“ He pauses. “I don’t wanna give up on her even though she already has. I just can’t find it in me to let it go.”

“I mean, I get it. But, you do know, there is gonna come a point where you’ll have to if she hasn’t reciprocated or tried reaching out. I’m only saying this because you’re my bestfriend. I want you to find her and I want you two to work through this and be happy. But, I also need you to realize the other side of this in case it falls through.”

“I know. Thanks. I appreciate it.” He lays his head back against the edge of the couch and shuts his eyes.

“Wanna get breakfast? Just gotta drive me home so I can wash up and change.”

“Sure.”

“I’ll treat your ‘lil sad ass out.”

“Fuck you.” Wooyoung laughs as they both get up and get ready for their day— a day where Wooyoung can at least try to help his bestfriend stop thinking about you, stop thinking about everything going on for a bit. Maybe, he can at least have somewhat of a normal day.

For you, it’s not necessarily an ordinary day either. You’ve been standing in front of your mirror, trying to get yourself together before heading to Ryujin’s house after these years. You know San and Changbin are probably there, and you’re not really sure if you’ll ever be ready to see your friends after dipping and dashing.

How to explain yourself now? Why were you back? 

Why were you running again?

You’re honestly not planning to call ahead of time, you’re just hoping she’ll be home at the time you come. You feel entirely unprepared, nervous, scared even, that she’d judge you for being who you are. For getting too into your thoughts, for thinking the way you do, for running. But, she proves you time and time again that she is your bestfriend for a reason. Your bestfriend that you can count on and feel safe with regardless of distance, time.

“Y/N?” Ryujin opens the door slowly, a small pout forming on her lips. You don’t say anything in response before you find yourself crying and throwing your arms around her tightly. Every emotion, every bit of sadness, hurt, confusion, fear, you had been feeling finally swept to the surface and made itself known. She cries, too. But, you think Ryujin is mainly crying because she hasn’t seen you physically in years. Part of it could also be that she hates seeing you cry, and she’s most definitely aware that something is going on for you to be crying on her doorstep. She’ll wait until you’re ready to share, though. For now, she’ll take the fact that she has you here, and possibly for good again.

“Is she crying?” San asks from the living room, where him and Changbin are currently sprawled out on the floor.

“Over our food getting delivered?” Changbin sits up. “Is she getting her period?” He looks at his phone.

“I don’t know, isn’t it more towards the end of the month? That’s when she gets hella—” Changbin looks up and immediately stands, approaching you as you stand in the hallway next to Ryujin.

“Y/N? No way!” He wraps his arms around you and pulls you in for a big hug. “Is that actually you?” 

“Yes it’s me, you dummy.” You mumble against his chest before he pulls away and gives San a chance to hug you.

“What the hell, why didn’t you tell us you were coming?” Changbin asks, but he suddenly shifts his tone when he notices how red your eyes are. The bags underneath. How tired and stressed you seem to be. “Wait, what’s wrong?” The question is enough to trigger more crying from you, causing you to dig your face into your hands before you even get a chance to sit.

“Here, let’s go sit so we can all talk.” San ushers you to the living room couch, sitting alongside you with Ryujin on your free side. Changbin opts for sitting on the ground, looking up at you with concern. You tell them everything, and you mean everything: running away because of all the pressure from your family, the hurt you felt from your ex. Your need to start new somehow, to feel worthy, to feel loved and appreciated in one form or another. You still don’t give them any names, but you do tell them you’ve made really good friends down there that you think they’d enjoy. 

Then, with a brief pause, you tell them about Yeosang. Un-named, of course. But, you tell them like it’s the greatest love you’ve ever experienced in such a short amount of time. It is. Kang Yeosang was the biggest blessing you’ve been granted in such a long time, you’re not even sure how you’d ever move on or what you’re even doing right now. Changbin rests a hand on your knee when he sees you struggling to speak in between your sobs, choked up from all the crying you’ve been doing. Quite frankly, he has seen you cry like this. He hated it because back then, you cried because you were hurt. You were hurt and as your bestfriend, he was angry. You were treated terribly, you were treated in a way that you absolutely did not deserve. And for the longest time, he wondered when you’d stop crying over your ex, when you’d finally get past that point of being so down and out about someone who didn’t recognize your worth. Now, he finds you’re crying because you’re so deeply in love. You’re crying because you’ve been so afraid to hurt the only good thing that’s ever come into your life. You’re crying because you gave up the one thing that brought you pure happiness out of all the fear built within you from your past. He hates it now because he’s sad for you. All that mess from the past made you leave the one thing you truly deserved— a chance at pure, genuine happiness. 

“I’m so sorry, baby.” Ryujin continues to hold you and rub your arm. “I’m sorry.” She repeats. “What can we do? Should we go back to town? Why keep hiding if you know you feel the same way for him?”

“I’m just scared. I’m scared I’ll treat him badly and I won’t make him happy. I just can’t—”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain.” San taps your leg, reassuring you and not wanting to overwhelm yourself. “You’re an amazing person though, Y/N. I’m sure he loved you for you and would’ve been willing to do this ride with you. Nothing is ever perfect.”

“Look, we’ll be here to support you no matter what, okay? You know that. Just tell us what you’ll need and we’ll help you. But, I need you to know that you’re never going to be alone. You won’t be. No matter what it is, you can always talk to us, Y/N.” Bin chimes in. “You don’t have to go through all of this by yourself just because you think no one wants to listen to you or help you get through it. You’re not being a burden, I don’t care what anyone else says.”

“I’m sure the same goes for your friends from town and.. him. Whatever your ex did, doesn’t define who you are. Same thing with the fights you had with your parents. None of that is you.” You sigh, lazily wiping away at your tears as you nod. Maybe it was time to finally come face to face with your demons. Maybe it was time to finally learn how to make peace with it and stop letting it determine your surroundings, your environment, your present.

Because it isn’t your past.

“I really missed you guys.” 

“We missed you, too.” 

“You’re staying?” San asks.

“I am.”

“Good. Then, we’ll take it one step at a time.” Ryujin wipes her own tears before shaking it off and smiling at you. “How about we order a bunch of food and drink like the old days, hm? Why don’t you stay over tonight?” You nod, knowing you can just borrow some of Ryujin’s clothes until tomorrow. Ryujin whips up a quick and easy snack for everyone to indulge in before San and Changbin decide to go head to head in Mortal Kombat, while you and Ryujin hang out in her room. It brings you back to the old days, the days when you didn’t have many worries, too much bullshit flooding your head, when the world didn’t feel like it was gonna swallow you whole. The both of you could comfortably sit or lie down in a comfortable silence, each doing your own thing within the same space. Right now, she’s definitely scrolling through aesthetic Youtube shorts next to you, watching people pack their lunches or their night-time routines in a quick second reel.

You, though?

You lie in Ryujin’s bed, constantly typing in Yeosang’s number and deleting it. You pull up his IG and look through his posts, surprised he still has pictures of you posted on there despite the mess you’ve buried him in. Your heart aches when you catch his caption from the most recent post, suddenly the need and want to be in Yeosang’s arms stronger than ever. It’s a picture of you tucked in between his legs while you both sat on the sand, overlooking the ocean. He holds you close, his chest pressed against your back as his arms hang over your shoulders. You remember that day so well— Mingi was out paddleboarding while Keeho and Jungkook were working at the restaurant. You’re laughing [probably at Mingi], while Yeosang is looking down at you with the biggest, brightest smile you’ve ever seen. He’s smiling but his lips are pressed right against the side of your head.

Caption: you.

It’s so simple, yet it says so much about Yeosang and what this means to him. You feel the guilt, the sadness, bubbling in your gut; forcing you to swallow the lump in your throat to somehow help bury the feelings—

“Y/N?”

“Hm?” You turn to Ryujin on her bed while the boys have moved ontoo another game in the living room, immediately closing out the instagram app on your phone.

“What was he like?” She smiles softly. “You know, your man from town.” You chuckle, knowing Ryujin hasn’t yet experienced a deep love but isn’t really in a rush to find it. You admire her, truly. She knows not to go looking in the wrong places and to just let it come when it comes. 

“He’s the most beautiful person I’ve met. He’s handsome. Charming. Always took care of me and put me first. He settled into town quick, people adored him. He was always helping out where he could. We kinda just.. fell in one piece together.”

“Was it good?”

“Ryu!”

“I’m just wondering!” You don’t respond and she immediately laughs. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Most importantly." You give her a look and she giggles. "He was always showing me how he felt. He wanted to make this work, and he was willing. He wanted to do everything for me and I just didn’t let him because I was scared.” Your voice tapers off.

❊ FLASHBACK

“Wouldn’t it be nice to see the stars up close? I wonder what it’s like to be in space.”

“I imagine it’s beautiful.” Yeosang says as he looks up at the sky with you as you both sit on the rooftop of your apartment complex.

“Yeosang.”

“Yeah?” His eyes are doe-eyed as he looks down at you with curiosity, wondering where your thoughts are right now. 

“I wish I could touch a star. Hold one in the palm of my hands.”

“I dunno if that’s possible, pretty girl.” He does a slight head tilt. “Can’t bag it ‘till we try it, right?” You look at him when he starts raising his hand to the sky, pretending to pluck away at the tiny dots in the night sky.

“What’re you doing?” You smile as you lay your head on his shoulder.

“I’m trying to grab you as many stars as possible.”

“Sangie.” You giggle as you watch him continue to pretend and pluck the stars from the sky, setting it aside next to you.

“You asked for the stars, so I’m delivering.”

“You’re the best.” You plant a kiss on his shoulder before resting your chin on his shoulder. He can’t help but smile at you, pressing a kiss to your forehead before moving down to the tip of your nose.

“Only for you.” 

❊ END

“I don’t think you have to be, love. He sounds like a genuinely good person.”

“It’s just me.” She brushes your hair back and gives you a small smile.

“He’s here, yeah?” You nod. “When you’re ready, go find him and talk to him. I’m sure he’s out there looking for you and it doesn’t sound like he’s the type to give up.”

“I will.”

“Can I see a picture of him? I won’t do anything, promise.” You pull up a photo of Yeosang on your phone, one of him posing by the beach; the other, him holding you from behind while he presses a kiss to your temple. Ryujin’s eyes light up when she sees how genuinely happy you are in the photo, how much you glow. “He’s gorgeous, Y/N! What the fuck! Does he have friends?!”

“Yeah, he does. I just haven’t met them yet.”

“You two are perfect.” She chuckles as she looks at the picture once more before returning the phone to you. “Hey. Have you talked to your parents?”

“Nope. They don’t even know I’m here.”

“Will you?”

“When I’m ready.”

“What do you plan to do in the meantime?”

“I’ve applied to a couple of vets, the aquarium. Hopefully, I snag a job at the aquarium somehow. It’d be so fun.”

“I hope so, too.”

“I’m proud of you.” Your bestfriend says. “It hasn’t been easy, but look at you. Still going strong. Doing your thing. You’re doing your best.” She pinches your arm playfully. “But, I just want you to be happy. Stop running from the people that bring you happiness, okay? You deserve it. No matter what was said or done in the past.”

“Thank you.” You pull her into a hug and cling onto her for a good minute, taking in the comfort Ryujin brings to you.

The rest of the day goes as it usually does with San, Changbin and Ryujin. Despite the time away, being apart, everything felt completely normal; as if you picked up right where you left off. You take more time to catch up with them over some good eats before walking around the neighborhood and getting some air. You grab some groceries for tonight’s dinner, inviting Jeongin over after he runs some errands with his parents. You like the fact that your friends treat Jeongin like their own sibling, taking care of him well while you were away. He easily blends in as soon as he arrives, stepping into the kitchen to help prep for dinner. You all take the food out to Ryujin’s little porch, setting a fire for the boys to grill some meat. It’s a relaxing night; the weather isn’t too cold, but you definitely can still spot your breath in the air. Ryujin’s neighbors probably hate it when all of you are together because the moment the alcohol kicks in, you all start singing your favorite songs at the top of your lungs. Changbin suddenly flips the switch and wants to tell everyone scary stories he claims are true and some he even witnessed firsthand— not necessarily lessening the noise on the porch because of the back and forth bickering that occurs in between. You’re not really a fan of scary shit, obviously; hence, those movie nights with your friends from town, digging your face into Yeosang’s chest to avoid any contact with the movie. You pull out your phone and start pressing Yeosang’s number into the phone app to try and distract you, but you don’t press call. You just delete, and re-type. It almost feels like your safety blanket at this point.

You could call if you wanted to.

Initially, you had opted for blocking him, but eventually, you knew it’d catch up to you through your friends— Jungkook, Mina, Mingi, Keeho. So, you end up scrapping the plan to get a new phone, a new number entirely. Get rid of IG, any trace of social media. That way, they couldn’t find you. It’s kinda ironic, almost symbolic, how quick and painless it happens at first; almost like a sign that you were meant to start fresh and bring out a clean slate.

Innie, Ryujin and Jungkook’s numbers are the only other ones you memorize by heart. Innie and Ryujin because they’re the closest ones you’ve had throughout all these years, Jungkook because you can count on the times you’ve mustered up the courage to play hooky and call in sick. Or, to pick up his call when you were running late and he was wondering where you were at. That number came up on your screen way too often, but now, you’re kinda glad it turned out that way.

“I’ll be back. I need to make a call.” You tell your friends as you slip away and back into Ryujin’s living room. You dial the number and press the phone to your ear, only waiting 2 rings until Jungkook picks up along with the restaurant’s background noise.

“Hello?”

“Jungkook.”

“Y/N?” There’s a slight pause as you think about your response. “Y/N? Hello?” He repeats.

“Hey.” 

“Y/N, what the fuck.” Jungkook leaves the restaurant and heads to the back area where it’s a little quiet. “We’ve been worried about you. Where are you?”

“I’m fine, okay. I’m sorry. I.. broke my phone and needed to get a new one, so this is my new number.” You lie. You lie and you lie, hoping it’ll mask the pain somehow. Hoping people won’t question your decisions and the way you’ve been acting. Why you’ve been running, why you can’t just stay put and let yourself be happy.

“Why didn’t you call someone right away or text us before you left? What the hell is going on?”

“I just have to take care of some stuff at home. I’m sorry.” You repeat, and he sighs heavily. You can’t even see him, but you know he’s running his hand through his black hair. Placing that hand on his hip. Ready to scold you, but doesn’t because he knows you don’t need it right now. He can easily sense how stressed you are, how scared and sad you feel. He hopes you’re truly okay and hanging in there.

“Y/N, you know we would’ve helped you.” He pauses. “And Yeosang—”

“Jungkook, I need you to promise me you aren’t gonna tell anybody anything right now. Let Mingi, Mina and Keeho know I’m okay and that everything’s fine. I’ll talk to them soon, but please. Please don’t say anything else, and please don’t tell Yeosang.” You beg and he sighs.

“Why are you doing this? He came by not too long ago and it’s heartbreaking, dude. I’ve never seen anyone so defeated over something.”

“I’ll— I’ll talk to him soon, Jeon Jungkook, promise me. For real. If we’re friends, you’ll—”

“Okay, okay. I’ll only promise if you promise to talk to him soon, too. Or else, I can’t guarantee I’ll keep this from him forever. He just wants to see you and talk to you, Y/N. He cares about you, and he misses you like crazy. Don’t let him slip away.” 

“I know.”

“I’m glad you called.” Jungkook adds. “We miss you.”

“I miss you guys, too.” You bite onto your bottom lip to prevent your tears from flowing. “Thank you, Kook.”

“Course. You sure you’re okay? You’re safe, got a place and everything?”

“I am. I promise you.”

“Alright. Call me if you need me. For anything.”

“I will. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay. Stay safe.” Jungkook ends the call and looks at his phone in some sort of disbelief. He’s relieved he finally heard from you, he knew he would. It was just a matter of time, and it didn’t help that Keeho was constantly on his ass about finding out where you were. He tucks his phone into his pocket just as he walks back into the restaurant, only to be greeted by Keeho himself.

“Where’d you go? Some impatient ass people were asking about their food—” Keeho furrows his brows while taking a better look at him. “What’s wrong, why do you look like that?”

“Like what?”

“Iono, like you saw a fucking ghost or something.” Keeho licks his lips. “Is it Y/N?” Jungkook doesn’t say anything as he continues to wash his hands and finish setting up the plates for said table [who is complaining]. “Yo, Jungkook. What is it? Is she okay? If she’s hurt—”

“She’s not.” Jungkook looks at him and slides over the plates. “She’s fine. She just called me to tell me she was okay.”

“Okay, so why didn’t you call me and Mingi over? We wanna talk to her, too.”

“It’s not that, Keeho. I’m sorry, I know you guys want to, but I don’t think she’s ready yet. I truthfully don’t even think she was ready to call me either.” Jungkook looks at him. “She said she’ll talk to you guys soon but she’s safe and she’s fine.” Keeho lets out a heavy sigh before shaking his head and taking the plates.

“Alright, fine. I’m glad she’s okay.”

“Yeah, I am, too.”

“Assuming she hasn’t talked to Yeosang?”

“No, but don’t say anything to him. Let her handle this.” Keeho shrugs.

“Alright, alright.” Jungkook sighs. At the end of the call, all you can do is stare at your phone for a bit before you toss it aside and start crying into your hands. You missed your friends. Your life back in town. You missed Yeosang so, so much. But so much of your insecurities took over, you felt like you didn’t have a choice but to run from them.

What if you would never be good enough for him? How did you deserve someone like Kang Yeosang?

“So, yeah. It’s next week already.” You hear Jeongin say as you finally gather yourself and walk back outside, patting away at your face with the sleeve of your sweater. Jeongin looks over at and senses how your mood has changed. He can see you quickly patting away and wiping at your face while you tuck your phone into your pocket. You sit and tuck your knees close to your chest, and it’s so obvious you had just been crying. He won’t point it out, though. Tonight has already been going well and he’d hate to ruin that.

“Do you have a date or something?” San asks.

“No? I’m just going to go!”

“You’re not seeing anyone?” Jeongin shakes his head shyly.

“No.”

“Aw, baby bread is shy. You like someone at work, don’t you?”

“I don’t! I’ve barely been there for a month!” You giggle, watching as he roasts a marshmallow over the fire to make himself some smores.

“You sure?” You gently nudge him and he smiles.

“I just think there’s someone really pretty, but she’s probably already taken.”

“You never know.” You look at him. “Can I see a picture?”

“I have like.. a group photo we took at the company. We needed to take a new one for the website and I guess.. social media purposes.” He pulls up his phone and shows you the photo. He zooms into her face and lets you take a good look, biting onto his bottom lip when he hears you giggle a little louder.

“She’s very cute. You don’t have her instagram or anything yet?”

“Not yet. We’re not that close yet. But, planning to slowly get to know her more.”

“The party will be a good way to do so.” You zoom out of the picture, eyes quickly scanning the company photo when they land on a very, very familiar face.

In that group photo is Kang Yeosang.

Suddenly, you feel nervous. Sick, all over again. Almost like your cousin can read your thoughts as they quickly pan through your head right at this moment. You don’t know if it’s a good thing that Jeongin works at the same place as him; but, at the same time, you probably should’ve known there was a chance this could’ve happened.

“What? Are you eyeing the guys at the company?”

“No.” You shake your head and give him a tiny smile. “Was just looking at how big the group is. Enjoy yourself at the party, okay? It’ll be fun.”

“Thanks.” Jeongin says, taking his phone back. The crazy thing about Jeongin is that he can already tell there was more to it than you just ‘looking at how big the group is.’ He caught how fast your smile faded and how you shifted in your seat, body suddenly more tense than it was earlier. He looks at the photo one more time when you aren’t looking to see if anything seemed off, but he can’t tell. He just knows someone caught your eye and you won’t be willing to share that information soon.

What if someone in there was the visitor? Chances were low but never zero, right? 

As the hours go on, Jeongin heads home a little closer to midnight, while San and Changbin wash the dishes in the kitchen before sleeping on the couch or floor. You and Ryujin lay in her bed again, talking about different things that have come up for her over the years. You’re surprised not much has changed, but Ryujin’s the type to go with the flow— take life as it comes. She falls asleep quickly after she listens to you tell her more stories from town, the people you’ve grown close to, the little things you’d do spending your days off. When she falls asleep, you find yourself pulling up all your pictures and videos again. You turn to your side and face the wall, finding a few tears streaming down your cheek when you revisit old memories.

❊ FLASHBACK

“Y/N!” You continue to run until you feel Yeosang’s arms wrap around your waist, pulling you back against him. You let out a loud squeal when he holds you tightly, refusing to let go. “Can’t go anywhere now, hm?”

“Oh, no.” You pretend to be scared. “Guess not.” You turn in his grip and face him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“You’re such a brat.” You laugh, Yeosang’s warm hand coming up your sweater and rubbing against your bare back.

“But you love this brat, don’t you?” He lets out a small chuckle but doesn’t verbally respond. Instead, he dips forward to kiss you on the lips, keeping his movements slow and steady— hoping it’s enough to show you that he does love you. He hadn’t said it out loud at this point, but he does. Yeosang loves you. His hands roam up your sides, gently squeezing as they slowly continue to climb up your sweater. You smile against the kiss, your fingers getting tangled in the ends of his hair.

“Ya’ll please, get a room.” Keeho yells from behind. You break the kiss with a tiny laugh, flipping Keeho off from behind. 

❊ END

You feel your bottom lip trembling, more tears threatening to spill when you replay those memories in your head like a film strip. You pull up the phone app again, fingers wanting to dial Yeosang’s number just like they’ve been trying to these past days.

Because you wanna hear his voice.

Tell him you’re sorry.

But, you prevent yourself from doing anything further. Not until you know you’re fully ready to see him and explain everything. Tonight, you’ll continue to stick with your memories, stigck with Yeosang’s voice in your head because this seems to be the safest place.

This is where things are good. This is where things aren’t ruined.

For now.

Time seems to be moving equally slow and quick.

Yeosang isn’t really sure what’s worse, but all he knows is that it’s been a couple of weeks since you two were supposed to meet. Now,  it’s time for the work party and he’s having to face it alone. It’s one that he wanted you to be his date for. One that he’s not even in the mood to participate in but his friends are all going and so should he.

So yeah, maybe not alone; But, it sure as hell feels like it when you’re not with him.

He lets out a sigh when he finally goes into the store and tries to find a new pair of slacks and a button up shirt to wear tonight. He’s not even sure what color he’s going for— maybe an all-black fit? He’d typically ask for your opinion by now if you hadn’t already told him what colors you wanted to wear. He hates this, truly hates this.

He walks [mopes] around the store, lazily picking up a grey button up shirt and a black button up. He’s not sure which one he’ll go with yet, and he’s not in the mood to try them on. He carries them around as he continues to walk around the store, looking at other items he could possibly buy. He likes the moment of peace he has right now shopping alone, though he wishes he had specific company. He tries to bury the idea in the back of his head so he can get through today in one piece, but he already feels the struggle piling within him.

It’ll be a long, long day.

After an hour or so, Yeosang finally steps out of the store with a bag in hand after taking his time with the retail therapy. He bought some new outfits— one, of course, for the party that’s happening tonight, and the other, still with you in mind; hoping one day he could wear them and impress you all over again. He sighs to himself as he looks down at his phone, seeing a few notifications from his group chat. He tucks his phone into his pocket and looks out at the busy sidewalk, doing a double-take to his right when he feels like he’s caught a glimpse of the back of your head. 

It can’t be you, can it?

Is the universe finally on his side for once?

Yeosang feels his heart drop to the pit of his stomach as he rushes through the crowd, quietly spitting out small apologies and ‘excuse me’s’ while weaving through the waves of people. 

“Y/N.” He feels like he loses you for a quick moment until he lands sight of you again. He reaches the end of the sidewalk and catches up. The moment his hand falls on the shoulder, he feels like he has finally reached the end of this maze, the final boss of this game. He has hope, a sense of victory, and he can’t wait to see your face—

“Excuse me?” 

It’s not you. It’s definitely not you. He could’ve sworn it was, though. And his heart shatters all over again. He’s not sure how much more of a beating it can take; repeatedly trying to piece his heart back together just to have it shatter to pieces.

Being repeatedly stomped on over, and over, and over again.

“I-I’m sorry.” Yeosang says, ripping his hand away from her shoulder. She gives him a confused look before she puts her headphones back in and walks across the street, creating the most distance between herself and him. He sighs and runs his hand through his hair, licking his lips as he turns down the street and heads back towards his car. 

“Fuck.” You mutter to yourself as you power down a random alley just to get away from the crowd, away from Yeosang—

“Oh my god, where did you even come from?” San asks when you run into his chest as he and Changbin are coming out of another store. “Where’s Ryujin?”

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Changbin looks at you when he sees you trying to catch your breath, eyes incredibly alert of your surroundings.

“Babe, I lost you for a second! Why did you run off like that?!” Ryujin says, bags in hand as she approaches the group. “What happened?”

“Nothing, I just— I’m sorry.” You look at her and shake her head. “I thought I saw someone.”

“Him?” She brushes the hair away from your face when she gets closer, her tiny acts of affection enough to calm you down.

“Mhm.” You barely respond above a whisper. “I’m— I can’t run into him like this.”

“That’s alright.” San looks around. “It’s clear now, right? Let’s go get something to eat up this way.” You nod, letting Changbin and San lead the way while Ryujin continues to stick by your side. She rubs at your arm to try and keep you calm, reassuring you that Yeosang is probably long gone and down the other street.

Which, he is. Doesn’t mean he has stopped thinking about the run-in, though. Yeosang knows that it was you. He knows everything about you, every inch of your body, the way you walk— he knows you probably better than you know yourself. He wishes he caught you sooner because he knows his eyes aren’t deceiving him. He knows, he knows, he knows.

And it’ll be his fucking downfall for the rest of the day. There goes his mood for the party.

“Yeah?” Yeosang picks up Wooyoung’s call through the car’s bluetooth.

“Where are you?”

“Heading back home from running some errands.”

“Can I slide through? Jongho and Chaerin said they were just gonna meet us at the party tonight.”

“Yeah. I’ll be home in about 10 minutes.”

“Alright.” With that, Yeosang ends the call. He has music softly playing in the background just to fill the white noise, but quite frankly, the ride feels a lot quieter than it actually is. Yeosang doesn’t even wanna go tonight, not anymore. He just feels like laying in bed and staring at the ceiling, processing the feeling of having you in his hands just to slip away. Again.

When Yeosang gets home, he lets the front door shut louder than usual— the impact rattling his cabinets, shaking his walls. He sets his things aside, kicks his shoes off to the side and plops onto the couch. He lets his head hang back, shutting his eyes as he lets out a heavy sigh. The peace lasts for all of 2 seconds before Wooyoung comes barreling in, creating his own kind of chaos to make his presence known in the apartment.

“Yoohoo!” He whistles as he drops his things on top of Yeosang’s coffee table. “Did you just buy an outfit for tonight?” Wooyoung digs through Yeosang’s shopping bags.

“Maybe.”

“Biggest fucking procrastinator.” Wooyoung furrows his brows.

“I told you I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to go.” Yeosang throws a ‘lil attitude in his response, mainly just irked at how his day went. 

“Okay, sorry. Just jokes. What’s wrong?” 

“I thought I saw her.” Yeosang opens his eyes and shakes his head, eyes still fixed on the ceiling above him. “Pretty sure it was her, but—” He looks flustered and Wooyoung isn’t even sure how to help him right now. All he can do is just stand and wait for Yeosang to continue. “Nevermind. I just thought I saw her.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s good. Maybe this shit isn’t really meant to be, huh?” Yeosang sits up and looks at him, but Wooyoung just shrugs in response.

“I can’t say. I don’t wanna say no, but I don’t wanna say yes either because time keeps going on and she’s still not giving you anything. There aren’t any signs for you to work with and I’m not sure what else I can do or say to help. Maybe it’s time you put it to rest and let the world handle everything else. Stop controlling the shit you can’t control.”

“I guess.”

“Listen.” Wooyoung stands. “The party is tonight. I know you don’t wanna go, but our friends are gonna be there. It’ll be one night where you can let everything go and just enjoy yourself. That’s all I ask from you.” Yeosang turns to look at him and gives him a slow, tiny nod before getting up.

“Yeah, alright.”

“Good. Now, show me what you bought.” Wooyoung stands with his hands on his hips, waiting for Yeosang to try on the items he bought for tonight in particular. In the end, Yeosang ends up going with a simple all-black fit with a button-up halfway done. He has a silver watch on his wrist, silver chain sitting nicely around his neck. Him and Wooyoung take a few shots of some nasty ass whiskey that Wooyoung left at his place months ago before heading out to the venue. It’s deep downtown, a huge convention center with a couple of different rooms to accommodate all sorts of events. The music is already booming, and the place is filled with familiar faces. Yeosang does appreciate it because it’s the one time people can let loose and be a little more casual outside of the work setting. 

He just wishes you were here with him.

Wooyoung is quick to socialize and drag Yeosang around to more shots, more champagne, more of everything that Yeo typically doesn’t really enjoy. But, he’ll indulge because what else does he have to lose tonight? The alcohol surely helps loosen him up, and it does help him get his mind off of things temporarily. It’s a nice feeling, and it almost feels foreign with how much his thoughts have been consumed by you these past weeks.

Jongho and Chaerin finally make it to the venue and casually join along to Wooyoung’s shenanigans, and the room feels 10x hotter than it was earlier with more people piling in with their plus one’s and other guests. There’s a little speech prepared by the CEO and leadership team, a congratulatory celebration per say for the goals already achieved at this point in the year. Jeongin is off to the corner with his friends, also feeling somewhat suffocated with how crowded the room feels after being here for just about an hour and a half. But, he tries to remember there’s a first for everything and tonight, he’ll enjoy himself. Get to know the cutie he’s been eyeing and see where it takes him. It’s a good start to the night all around. Both of them won’t complain. Yeosang will step out for a second though because it does get to be a little much when the music becomes more aggressive, the crowd is jumping around— people are drunk-drunk. As with all good nights, they also call for a break.

When he steps outside, he situates himself by the railing and looks out at the view of the city, the river ahead. It feels peaceful, especially with the way the wind is hitting him and providing temporary relief. 

“It’s so pretty tonight.” Chaerin surprises him when she comes to his side and rests her hands on the rail.

“Yeah, it is.”

“You okay?”

“Mm, yeah. Crowd was just getting to be a little much. Had to step away for a second.”

“I feel you. Wooyoung is starting a mosh pit in the middle of the floor.” Yeosang rolls his eyes.

“Course.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

“What makes you ask?”

“I dunno. Everything going on.” She fiddles with her thumbs before looking back out at the view.

“I guess. Trying to be, at least.”

“Still haven’t heard from her?”

“Nah.” Yeosang shakes his head and his smile drops a bit. “I’m not sure if I will at this point. I just— I don’t know. I don’t know where she’s at or why she's hiding from me. I don’t know where things went wrong.” Yeosang sighs, leaning over against the rail as Chaerin stands next to him. “Sorry, I don’t mean to go on.”

“It’s okay. I’m sorry it’s been hard.”

“Don’t be. I’ll figure it out like I’ve always done.” He playfully pinches her cheeks and she giggles.

“It’s not your fault.”

“Hard to feel that way, really.” He lets out a pathetic chuckle as they both continue to look at the view.

“Well, for what it’s worth, she’s missing out. She doesn’t know how good she has it with you.” Yeosang looks at Chaerin, locking eyes with her as she gives him a small smile before subtly licking her lips. The look holds a lot more than she lets on, but Yeosang doesn’t break away from it. He’s caught off guard by what she does next and it doesn’t register for him right away when it happens. She tippy-toes and presses her lips against his, and Yeo indulges in the kiss for a good couple of seconds before abruptly breaking away and finally creating distance. He looks at Chaerin, and all she can do is shy away— placing her hand over her mouth as she avoids eye contact.

“Chaerin, I’m sorry, I—” He sighs. “We can’t—I can’t.”

“I’m sorry.” She mumbles and Yeosang feels his heart break for her because he can’t reciprocate. His heart lies with someone else, despite the bullshit that’s been happening. It’ll always be you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to give you any mixed signals.”

“No, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have. Sorry.” She repeats before she’s rushing off back into the main room of the party.

“Chaerin!” Yeosang calls for her before releasing a groan. “Fuck.” He runs his hand through his hair before walking back inside, trying to keep his composure. He runs into Jongho first, and he can’t help but try and read his body language to see if he knows anything already. But, he doesn’t. Thank god for that.

“Have you seen Chae?”

“No, why? Wasn’t she with you?” Yeosang sighs. “What’s wrong, dude?”

“I— we kissed. I just need to talk to her.”

“You did what?!”

“It was an accident.” Yeosang looks at Jongho before he sees Chaerin leave the women’s bathroom from over his shoulder. “There she is.” He says before brushing past Jongho quickly, catching up to Chaerin just as she tries to dip out of the main room and down the steps to the lobby.

“Wait, wait.” Yeosang chases after her and gently tugs on her wrist. “Chae, let’s talk.”

“Yeo, it’s fine. We don’t need to talk about anything.”

“Yes, we do. You’re still one of my bestfriends, I don’t want this to ruin our relationship—”

“It won’t, it’s fine.” She says, even though deep down, Yeosang knows it’s not. But, what can he say? What can he do? He literally can’t move on from you and that’s unfair to her.

“Chaerin.” He looks at her as they stay paused on the steps, people passing back and forth going from outside back into the party and vice versa.

“Yeosang. I’m serious. It’s fine. I don’t know what go into me, it’s my mistake. We can just act like this never happened. I get it, all is fine.” She repeats.

“I’m sorry.” He’s not sure what he’s sorry for. Maybe for giving her false hope? He didn’t necessarily do anything wrong, he thinks. He’s certainly not sorry about you despite the rough circumstances. It will always be you.

God, today was so fucked up.

“Me too.” Is all she says. He knows this will definitely change things from here on out, but he’s hoping over time, they can continue to be the way they used to be. She lays a reassuring hand on his arm before giving it a gentle squeeze, wanting to move past this just for tonight. Chaerin’s already embarrassed by her actions enough, she doesn’t wanna dwell on it any further. Fuck.

“Excuse me—” Jeongin says, absentmindedly brushing past Yeosang and Chaerin on the steps since he’s more concerned about getting past the crowd in one piece.

“Sorry.” Yeosang steps aside and grabs Chaerin’s hand. “Come on, come back inside with me, please?” She nods, following Yeosang’s lead back into the main room. They find Wooyoung and Jongho at the bar, and Jongho gives him a look that asks if everything is okay. Yeosang simply gives him a tiny, toothless smile, allowing Wooyoung to order more drinks for them to keep the night alive.

Another drink turns into a couple. Yeosang always finds himself drinking more than usual around Wooyoung and Jongho, trying to keep up with their antics. Most of the time, he can. Tonight though, he knows he’s overdoing it and should’ve stopped a whole three drinks ago. He’s dancing away on the dance floor with his friends, Chaerin in and out of the group to hang out with her other friends from another department; most likely her way of trying to distract herself and distance herself from Yeosang tonight. He can’t help but look for her in the crowd every now and then, hoping she’s okay. Other times, he finds himself dancing along with other people from the company, mixing along with the crowd as it continues to mesh into one huge crowd the more people pile into the room. Yeosang eventually has to find the guys again, finding that they’ve separated into different corners of the room. He finds Wooyoung first, bobbing and weaving through people in order to get to his bestfriend when he realizes it’s time for another break. Bathroom break, especially.

“Yo, I’m gonna head to the bathroom.” Yeo lets Wooyoung know before struggling to move past the rest of the crowd and into the bathroom. Thankfully, he makes it in time to break the seal and splash a little water on his face— cheeks flushed, palms sweaty. He’s drunk, and for a minute, he was enjoying himself. Now, he’s drunk and he’s missing you. He splashes a bit more water on his face before he’s dabbing a paper towel across it and tossing the crumpled napkin into the trash. He takes a detour and heads down the steps to get some fresh air, feeling slightly suffocated from the packed room, the loud ass music. His thoughts of you. 

The cold air feels amazing against his skin, and it’s helping him feel a little more grounded than he felt a few moments ago. He pulls out his phone and sees a missed call from an unknown number, and for some reason, he feels like he’s gotten punched in the gut. And truthfully, you didn’t mean to press call. You did not mean for that call to go through whatsoever. Your phone had slipped and almost hit you in the face while you laid on your bed, thumbs pressing all sorts of shit just to keep it stable in your hands again. Next thing you knew, the call was going through. You ended the call as quickly as possible, but you knew it was too late. Yeo would’ve seen it by that point. He knows, he knows, he knows.

The first thing Yeo does is press the number and call you back. You gasp when you see his number appear on your screen, heart damn near beating out of your chest when you hit accept— pressing the phone to your ear even though you say nothing. Absolutely nothing.

“Y/N?” You hear Yeosang’s voice on the other line. You place a hand over your mouth when you feel the tears already building on your bottom lid, unsure of why you even picked up in the first place when you knew it’d lead you right where you’re at now. “Y/N, I know it’s you.” He sighs. “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to, but I need you to talk to me at some point. I’m still waiting for you.” Silence. Yeosang is drunk, and his emotions are getting the best of him, especially when he follows up with: “Y/N, baby.” You quickly end the call and sit up, your cries completely washing over your entire body. You cry and cry into your hands, cursing yourself for letting this shit happen. Why did you have to make it so complicated? Why couldn’t you just tell him you missed him right then and there? Why couldn’t you just say anything?

Yeosang pulls the phone away and looks at the home screen, navigating back to your new number on his call log. He presses the phone to his ear as he paces near the venue entrance, hoping you’ll pick up again. It rings before the call is denied and sent to voicemail. He calls again, and it goes to voicemail. Again, then voicemail.

“Y/N.” He groans under his breath. “Fuck.” Now, all Yeo wants to do is go home. All he’s set on is going home. Fuck this. Fuck the party, fuck everything that happened tonight. He can’t even come home to you, and that’s what’s fucking him up completely.

“About time?! What happened to you, did you yack?” Wooyoung looks at Yeo in the eyes, trying to find any signs of an apparent struggle. Yeo shakes his head to confirm it wasn’t that, nor does he explain himself further.

“I’m about to head home.”

“Already?”

“Yeah.”

“Let me come with—” Wooyoung can tell something isn’t right, and he wants to be there for his bestfriend.

“No. Just stay. Promise I’m all good, it’s really not that big of a deal. I’m just tired.”

“Uh, alright then. Text me when you get home. Don’t forget.”

“Got you.” Yeosang gives him the usual dap before he’s saying his goodbye to Jongho. He tries to search the room for Chaerin, but can’t find her— ultimately opting to see her next week at work and give her space tonight. He darts back down the steps and hops into the next taxi that becomes available on the street.

Thank god it isn’t a far drive, or else, he’d hate to sit in this akward taxi drive in complete silence. Just him and his loud ass thoughts, actually. He contemplates on dialing your number again, but with the three attempts and no return calls coming his way, it’s obvious you mistakenly called him. The call didn’t mean anything, he didn’t mean anything. You wanted nothing to do with him and who is he to fight that? Who is he to force you to feel a certain way?

Oh, if he only knew what truly went on in your head.

Yeosang thanks the driver and gives him a hefty tip in cash, specifically for letting him take a quiet ride home— giving him the opportunity to ponder on what his next move with you is going to be. That entire time, he comes up with nothing. He will absolutely do nothing. He will do nothing because now that he’s tried to tell you where he was at in all of this, now that he’s reminded you that he’s still here— he needs to know if you’re still here, too. He needs to know if you still need to talk to him, still want him, still want to kiss and hold him like he does. He needs to know, and the only way he’ll get the proper answer is by letting you make the next move. Letting you take initiative. He shouldn’t have to. He wasn’t the one that ran away.

He still hates everything, though. It’s easy to stay mad and be mad that you don’t even realize how much energy is draining from you thinking about the current situation and all its different avenues, it feels frustrating. It’s annoyingly frustrating, and so far, it feels like none of the avenues lead him back to you. 

So, he needs to know. From you directly. 

He takes a quick shower and hops into bed, still staring at his call log. He doesn’t do anything besides stare at it because any other way doesn’t feel safe enough for him. He hopes after this, the universe can send him another sign that’ll show him the way to you, how to get back with you, things to fix on himself before he comes and tries to sweep you off your feet again. He’s still determined to be that guy for you, if you’d let him. He’s just not sure what this means for you, and it makes him sad. 

He needs you to let him know. Soon.

You stare at the three missed calls on your phone from Yeosang. The last one has a voicemail he probably didn’t intend to leave because you hear him groan your name in frustration before it cuts off. You replay the message once more before you toss your phone to the side and start getting ready to take a small walk around the neighborhood, grab some coffee and a pastry from a nearby café. The fresh air will do you good, and it will help put you in the right place mentally before your interviews coming up. You were able to lock in three interviews; one at a small, private vet, one at a bigger veterinary hospital downtown and one at the aquarium. Either way, you were excited to finally get started on your dream, your own path. You’d take whatever route life paved for you because at the end of it, it’ll only lead you to more doors, more opportunities. 

While sitting at the café, you snap a few pictures of the interior and how pretty it is. You also snap a few pictures of the alleyway and a few passerbyers, wondering what each person’s story is like. If Yeosang were here, you’re sure he’d make you pose in the middle of the alley, or snap random photos of you while sitting in front of him. The thought makes you smile a bit, causing you to shift in your seat. You rest your chin on the palm of your hand, wondering how you could break the ice and finally talk to Yeosang about everything because it’s something that’s constantly on your mind despite all the running and the empty calls. Each day that passes makes you more and more ready to face him, to tell him the truth. It has taken baby steps, but you know you’ll make it to the end. You know you’ll face him regardless of how hard it’ll get, you know you’ll apologize and tell him how much you still love him regardless of how he takes it. And then after all is said and done, maybe that’ll be it for the two of you. You hope not, but what if? 

What if that’s where the story ends?

You end up walking into a few stores after sitting in the café, treating yourself to a few new pieces of clothes you could wear to the interview. It feels nice to do a little more retail therapy, your me-time turning into something you desperately needed without even realizing. You head home with a smile on your face, satisfied with the purchases you’ve made. You try on different outfits when you get home, tossing your clothes all over the place once you’re satisfied with some of the combinations you’ve tried on.

“Ayo! Got you some food.” Jeongin yells while walking into your place. 

“Oh, shoot! Time already?” You look at the clock before shooting him a smile. “Thanks, Innie.” You watch him pop off his shoes before rearranging your clothes in your closet. “I’ll be there in a second, just cleaning and getting my stuff together.” Jeongin puts the bag of food down on the table, taking a seat while he patiently waits. He texts his friends back before looking around on the table, eyeing the random papers and pictures sitting off to the side. He grabs at the photos out of curiosity, flipping through them and not thinking much of it. “Ugh, where is it!” He hears you suddenly groan as you continue to sort through your stuff, head deep in your closet this time.

“What is it?”

“My license and passport.”

“Where did you last put it?” He asks as he goes through the fun, candid pictures of you and your friends from town. 

“In my other purse, but it’s not here.” A small smile is painted on his face as he sees how happy you are with everyone. But then, he finds himself stopping when he sees pictures of you and the visitor. His forehead crinkles because he knows this man. He’s seen—  “I found it!” You say with a squeal, tucking your ID and passport into your usual day-to-day bag. You don’t hear anything from Jeongin, so you turn to face him and realize he’s going through the pictures you left on the table. You slowly approach him and notice the photo he’s fixed on, your first instinct to snatch them out of his hands and store it back into the nightstand drawer. “Oops, sorry. I didn’t mean to leave these here.”

“Oh, no biggie.” He watches as you continue to fix the photos and papers back into your nightstand drawer, avoiding eye contact with him. “A-are those your friends, Y/N?” You hear him ask as you stop on one of the pictures of you and Yeosang.

“Yeah.” You nod, throat feeling like it’s closing in on you. “Those are my friends.”

“Is that him?” Silence. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” You shut the drawer before letting out a breath and keeping your composure. “Anyway, what’d you bring?” You smile at him and sit in front of him. “I wanna hear all about the dance.” Jeongin looks at you with concern when you quickly change the subject, unpacking the bag and laying out the food on the surface of the table. “Yum! Bulgogi!”

“Uh, it was good!” He manages to spit out, trying to keep up with the conversation even though his mind is stuck on that picture. You grab a few small plates and utensils, placing it in front of Jeongin and your own seat at the table. 

“Did you get to dance with her?”

“Oh my god.” Jeongin says, shaking his head as he begins to pick at the side dishes first. “That definitely wasn’t the vibe last night.”

“What do you mean, it was a party, no?”

“It was. There was an open bar and appetizers. There was a dance floor and everything, but like, you know. Everyone kept it PG and professional even though it was crowded as hell. Music was good, too!”

“I mean, you can dance with her professionally and stuff.” You smirk.

“We did, with our other coworkers.”

“Did you get to talk and get to know her a bit more?” He nods.

“I did. She’s really cute.” He lets out a small laugh.

“Aw, yay!”

“I had fun. It was cool for a work party.”

“What time did you get home?”

“Hm, a bit past 2am. It ended at 11, then we all went out to eat. Karaoke. Then, that was about it.”

“That sounds fun, Innie. Glad you enjoyed yourself.”

“What’d you do last night and earlier today?”

“I hung out with Ryu. She actually came over and we watched movies over some ice cream. Earlier, I just took a walk and sat at a café for a bit before doing some shopping. Tried to get myself into a good space for the interviews coming up.”

“Oh, yeah! When is that? Next week?” You nod.

“Yup.”

“You got this! You’ll get all of them, no doubt. Just a matter of what you’ll wanna do in the end.”

“Thanks, Innie.”

“Have you talked to your friends from town?” He suddenly asks and you shrug.

“I talked to one of them, but I haven’t talked to the others yet. I will, once I’ve gotten these interviews done with.”

“Hm.” He hums. “That’s good, at least you talked to one of them. I just didn’t want them to worry about you.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m going to talk to the rest of them, don’t worry.”

“Mmkay.” Jeongin forces himself to stop asking questions, especially about the other pictures. He can tell you’re getting affected with the way you’re slowly shutting down and avoiding contact again. Sentences are cut short. You’re almost mumbling your words.

He’ll take it as a sign to stop pressing further, especially because he wants you to be okay for your interviews coming up.

The rest of the late lunch goes by without more digging from Jeongin’s end. He decides to talk more about the party and about his coworkers. He tells you how he gets along with his team members, and how patient his seniors are with him. He appreciates it and he hopes he can be offered a permanent position there. If not, he hopes he can find another company with similar vibes: great values, easy going and patient team members, yet incredibly smart and good at what they do. He’s been learning a lot and it’s easy to tell that Jeongin has been enjoying his time there. Then, he touches up on the topic of his parents and how they had been questioning why he had been going out so much lately. You reassure him and tell him that you plan to talk to your parents, assuming all goes well with your interviews. This time though, you plan to work through it slowly, keep your distance if they aren’t being receptive. Just for your own sake. They’re your parents and you know one day you’ll be able to fully forgive them for the things they’ve said and done— but since they’re your parents, you know you’ll always love them even if it has to be from afar.

This time, you plan to keep doing things for you.

After spending a good couple of hours together, Jeongin calls it a day and leaves to rest for the remainder of the day. He tugs his hood over his head and clings onto his shoulder bag, making his way back home from your place. He’s confused, and he’s honestly in a bit of shock still. Jeongin can’t get the picture out of his head. It’s mindblowing how pieces to the puzzle just fall onto his lap, and now, he feels like he can be of better help to you. Even though you were quick to snatch the photo away, Innie was able to get a good look at it. He knows who that guy is. He knows exactly where he’s seen him, and it’s crazy that the answer has been right in front of him this entire time.

❊ FLASHBACK

The first day Yeosang steps back into the office, he’s greeted by a couple of people that are happy to have him back. Everyone compliments on the glow he’s sporting and how happy and refreshed he seems to be. He can’t help but shyly laugh about it, a red tint coloring his cheeks when he tells them he’s had a good time and that he might’ve met someone really special there. He sets his things down onto his desk, fixing up a few things before he heads towards the kitchen with his mug in hand. There are a few interns sitting in one of the main conference rooms, and Yeosang is able to get a good look at them on his way to the kitchen. They all look fairly young, as if they had just graduated. One sits at the far corner in a loose grey button up shirt tucked into his slacks, black frames sitting on his face. He gives Yeosang a tight-lipped smile when they accidentally make contact, making Yeosang give him a curt nod in response. 

“Hella interns.” Wooyoung throws his arm around Yeosang as they continue to walk to the kitchen. 

“Do we have one?”

“No. I think most of them are in R&D. Operations. A select few in marketing and media.”

❊ END

When Jeongin wakes up on Monday morning, he makes it a goal to get to work a little earlier so he can prepare and step in to be some kind of hero— how he’s gonna pull it off, he’s not sure. He fixes a few things at his cubicle before he heads back upstairs to the main kitchen, where the coffee maker is always stocked and running. To his surprise, Yeosang is already there, waiting for his cup to be filled. Jeongin slowly treads into the kitchen, the feeling in his gut about Yeosang being confirmed when he sees his phone face down on the counter next to the coffee machine.

Sitting on the back is a polaroid of you, smiling happily and posing near the water.

“Uh, hi.” Jeongin steps a little closer, nervously swallowing the lump in his throat. It’s just the fact that Yeosang was his senior that he already felt intimidated but he knew he needed to speak up before it was too late. 

“Goodmorning?” Yeosang cocks a brow up. He’s familiar with the intern, and he doesn’t mean to come off as rude or anything. He’s just not sure what he needs from him. Can’t wait to get his coffee? Unsure how to work the coffee machine? They end up in an awkward staring competition until Jeongin clears his throat.

“Sorry. I’m Jeongin.” He holds out his hand for Yeosang to shake, and he takes it.

“Yeosang.” 

“I— this might sound really weird, but I know the girl on your phone.” He pauses. “She’s my cousin. I dunno if she ever told you my name, but we’ve spoken on the phone a few times while you were there. She calls me Innie.” Yeosang furrows his brows as he slowly removes his cup from the coffee machine and grabs his phone, eyes glued onto Jeongin. He can tell Jeongin feels bad for him, almost like he pities him. He feels like everyone pities him at this point. Shit is sad. But, before he can deny anything about you, Jeongin follows up with a: “I know where she is and I wanna help.” Yeosang almost drops his cup of coffee. This can’t be real.

“I appreciate it, but it’s pretty clear your cousin doesn’t want anything to do with me.” Jeongin shakes his head.

“It’s not that, it’s—” He sighs. “It’s just that she’s been through alot and she’s scared. I can explain. I know it probably doesn’t hold much weight coming from me and not her directly, but at least it’s a start.” Jeongin looks at him. “I just wanna help. I know she’s been waiting for the right moment to talk to you, but I’ve also caught her crying one too many times over this. I think it’s about time.” Yeosang turns to him, cup of coffee still in his hand. It’s crazy how much Jeongin reminds him of you already, he should’ve known there was something about him when he first saw him.— that something being you.

“What time do you usually take lunch?” Jeongin shrugs.

“Whenever.”

“Wanna meet me in the cafeteria at 12:30? We can talk more about it then.” Yeosang says just as he hears Wooyoung, Jongho and Chaerin making their way to the kitchen.

“Okay. See you later.”

“You’re alive, you piece of shit. I told you to text me when you got home and you didn’t even try to text me all weekend.” Wooyoung scolds Yeosang before shifting his attention to Jeongin. “Hello intern!”

“Hi.” Jeongin gives them all a small smile and a curt nod before grabbing his own cup of coffee and rushing out of the room.

“I forgot, sorry.” Yeo responds to Woo. “I was out of it.”

“Tell me about it.”

“What were you and the intern talking about?” Jongho asks, popping his mug under the coffee machine. “Did he not know how to work the coffee machine?”

“Uh, no.” Yeosang traces the rim of his cup while his friends rummage around the kitchen. “That was Y/N’s cousin.” Wooyoung chokes on his americano.

“The fuck did you just say?”

“That was her cousin.” Yeosang repeats.

“So, what happened?”

“He said he knew where she was.” Yeosang shrugs. “I’m gonna talk to him at lunch.”

“Bro, you’ll finally find her!” Jongho smiles, but all he can do is shake his head in response.

“Doesn’t mean she wants to see me.”

“Why wouldn’t she? I’m sure she wants to explain everything.” 

“Why hasn’t she then?” 

“Let him help. He might be able to push you two back together, and she may just need that.”

“Yeah.” Is all Yeosang says. He turns to Chaerin, who is quietly stirring the sugar and cream in her coffee. She hasn’t said one word to him, nor has she even looked at him since she stepped into the room. Yeosang gently nudges her and gives her a smile, but she can still barely hold contact with him. “Goodmorning. You okay?”

“Yup!” Is all she says. “Glad Y/N’s cousin was able to find you and talk to you a bit. Hope it works out.” She gives him the tiniest toothless smile she’s ever given anybody, and Yeo knows she’s really only doing it to brush him off and get him off of her case. “Anyway, I have a ton of work to catch up on. See you guys later?” She rushes out.

“I thought you two were okay.”

“I thought we were, too.”

“Why is she being weird around you?” Wooyoung cocks a brow up. “Did you guys kiss or something?” Jongho sips his coffee while Yeosang diverts his attention to his watch.

“I gotta get started on those emails—”

“I was literally just joking. Hurry, someone tell me it’s a joke.”

“Let’s go.” Jongho squeezes his shoulder and pushes Wooyoung out of the kitchen. “Stories for other days.”

“You two fucking kissed?!”

“Shut up.” Yeosang says through gritted teeth as he looks behind him and glares at Wooyoung. “This is why I can’t tell you shit sometimes.”

“Oh my god, when?! At the party?”

“I’m not doing this right now. It was an accident.” Yeosang mumbles as he sets himself down at his desk and begins to pull up his emails.

“The hell it was.” Wooyoung snorts. 

“Leave it alone.” Jongho laughs, pushing Wooyoung aside. “He’s got enough to deal with.”

“So? He’s also a grown ass man who can handle it. Right, boss?” Wooyoung leans over to Yeosang and winks. “I expect a full page report by end of the day.”

“Fuck off.” He shoves Wooyoung out of the way and begins to focus on his work. Though, it’s pretty hard when he’s constantly checking the clock and waiting for 12:30pm to come around. He manages to pull through and surprisingly multitask— trying to figure out the questions he has for Jeongin, while also trying to collect his thoughts about this whole thing. There’s no doubt the conversation will be awkward, but the last thing Yeosang wants is for Jeongin to feel like he’s attacking you and angry.

He is angry, but he’s trying to find ways to suppress the feeling and instead, be understanding. Open-minded. Patient.

When 12:30pm hits, Yeosang bids farewell to his friends that head across the street to grab lunch at the restaurant in front of the building. He grabs some soup and a side of salad, setting his stuff down at a table near the far corner of the cafeteria. Jeongin is equally nervous as he is scared because he’s not sure how this whole thing is gonna go down. He hopes the plan won’t backfire and Yeosang doesn’t blow up at him in front of everybody here. He grabs his helping of food before he pauses in his steps and searches the room for a familiar face. He sees Yeosang sitting at a table, only to be met with a small wave when Yeosang meets his eyes.

“Thanks for meeting me.”

“Shouldn’t I be thanking you?” Yeosang looks at him before letting out a small chuckle. 

“Nah. It’s no big deal.” Jeongin sips on his water before laying his phone out. Yeosang sees his wallpaper and it’s you two with other family members, posing during Christmas time. He assumes it was years ago when you were still around for family parties. You both have on matching pajamas and silly Christmas hats or glasses. “Had I known it was you she was talking about, I would’ve reached out sooner.”

“How’d you find out?”

“I went to her place the other day and saw some pictures of you two scattered across her table. I flipped through most before she took them and hid them in her drawer.”

“Glad to know she at least still has the pictures.”

“She does. She’s not gonna toss those.” Jeongin takes a bite of his food. “I didn’t mean to be nosy earlier, by the way. I was already questioning myself until I saw the photo on your phone. Kinda helped.”

“It’s all good.” Yeosang sips his soup. “Is she safe?”

“She is. She’s here.” Yeosang pauses before he sets his spoon down completely. So, he wasn’t hallucinating when he ran into you that one day. It was you. “She has her own place and everything. She’s been here for about a few weeks.”

“How many weeks exactly?”

“I dunno, 4? A month, I guess?”

“We were supposed to meet at the end of last month.” Jeongin cocks a brow up.

“She never showed up?”

“No.” 

“Hm.” Jeongin hums. “Pretty sure she was already here by then.”

“I don’t know if that makes it any better for me knowing she was.”

“I’m sorry.” Jeongin slightly pouts. “She’s.. she’s been through a lot. I know it’s not an excuse, especially one I can say on her behalf, but she does this. I’m trying really hard to help her so she doesn’t keep running from her problems and everything. I just think she’s gotten so used to doing it that it has become the safest option for her.”

“I understand. Do you mind telling me more about it?”

“She was engaged. She gave her ex everything, and I mean everything. She isolated us just to keep him happy, did everything for him, always stood by his side even though he gaslighted and manipulated her. He really wasn’t good for her.” Jeongin rolls his eyes, still angry at your ex for the way he treated you. “They fought more after they got engaged and he pretty much took everything back. Found out he was having an affair behind her back for months. It was his dumb way of saying their relationship ran its course and that he didn’t wanna do this with her anymore.” Yeosang feels his hand balling into a fist hearing about how incredibly disrespectful your ex was and how fucked up the whole thing turned out to be. Still, it doesn’t excuse the behavior and he wishes you didn’t look at him as someone who would hurt you, too. He would never. He genuinely loves you and would take care of you properly— should you let him. That’s all he wants. “And then on top of that, her parents were pretty harsh on her. All they kept doing was pushing her to be something she wasn’t. The more she refused, the more they treated her like shit. Her dad kept saying she was useless and that he didn’t think he’d have to deal with a daughter who didn’t have purpose.” Yeosang shakes his head. “It all happened around the same time. She wouldn’t stop crying and crying.” Jeongin shakes his head and pokes at his food. “She was so destroyed. She felt like all the people she loved were constantly telling her and showing her that she wasn’t good enough or that she wasn’t worth it. That she didn’t have a purpose. No one wanted to be with her or stick by her side because she was nothing.”

“Not to me.” Yeosang mutters. 

“I know.” Jeongin looks at him. “I know you wouldn’t hurt her.”

“How, though? We barely met a few hours ago.” Yeosang smiles a bit.

“I just do. She’s kept all your pictures, I know she keeps checking her phone even though she got a new number and everything. She thinks about you a lot, and it’s obvious. I’ve seen her cry because she was hurt, but now I see her cry because she misses you and she’s not sure how to explain herself to you.” Jeongin tilts his head. “Do you still wanna be with her? I’ll keep this between us. I know time has passed and the way everything happened was so abrupt.”

“Of course I do. There’s nothing more that I want than to be with her. I’ve just been trying to be patient. I’ve been trying to wait and give her the space she needs because I respect her and care about her more than anyone knows. But, I don’t know how much longer I can wait.” The moment the statement slips from Yeosang’s lips, his heart falls to his stomach. He’s tired of waiting, and even though he doesn’t want this to end, he’s not sure what he’s waiting for anymore. Especially after the call. He just needs to see you. “She accidentally called me the other night during the party. I called her back and she picked up but she didn’t say anything on the other line. I told her she didn’t have to respond, but I needed her to know I was still here for her. Then, she just hung up.” Jeongin sighs.

“Can you meet her tonight? I’m sorry if that’s soon. I think it’s time.”

“How is that even gonna work? If she knows I’m there, she won’t see me.”

“She will. She doesn’t have to know. I can tell her I’m coming by for dinner and you can be there instead of me. Like, 6pm?” Yeosang nods. Jeongin grabs his phone and starts pulling up your text thread, immediately typing away.

“Wait, are you sure about this?”

“Mhm.” Is all he says as he sends the text. He shoves the phone towards Yeosang’s way, letting him see your response as it comes up on the screen.

[jeongin]: dinner tonight?

[you]: sure!

[jeongin]: i’ll swing by after i’m off. probably 6ish.

“She’s gonna be pissed at you.” Yeosang says and Jeongin shrugs.

“She won’t. It’ll be all good. Trust me on this. You two really need to talk.”

“Thanks. For this.” 

“No need to thank me, seriously. I hope it helps. I just—“ Jeongin sighs. “I want her to be happy. I need her to know she deserves this happiness, too.”

“I want her to be happy, too. Whether that’s with me or not.”

“You know, when she used to call me back while she was in town, she used to sound so giddy and happy. Found out it was because of you being around. It made me happy hearing her talk the way she was talking. Always so excited to get on with her day and see you.” Yeosang gives him a tiny smile before doing a slight head tilt.

“Wait, so. She never told you my name or anything?”

“Nope. I don’t even know the names of her friends. Well, I guess, your friends now, too.” Jeongin looks up as if deep in thought before shaking it off and continuing to eat. “I don’t think she was trying to hide you or anything. I think she wanted to keep her two lives separate. I’m not sure why.”

“It’s alright.” Yeosang hopes he’ll hear the explanation from you directly, no matter how long it takes. He won’t push you to say it, but he hopes— he hopes you’ll take the initiative to tell him why.

“I’ll send you her address and the door code.” Jeongin slides his phone back over to Yeosang for him to put his number in. As soon as Yeosang hands it back, Jeongin sends him the address as promised. When Yeosang reads the preview on his phone, he almost lets out a hefty audible sigh at how close your new place is to his.

“She lives near me.” Yeosang says with a pathetic chuckle. He isn’t directing it to Jeongin, more so voicing his disappointment at how close you were. Yet, he wasn’t able to catch you once. Yet, you felt so incredibly distant, as if miles and miles were in between. “She’s been around this entire time and I didn’t even know she was that close.”

“I’m sorry. I really hope this fixes things. Or, is at least the start.”

“I appreciate it. A lot.”

“Well, you can always text or call me for anything now that you have my number. I’m here to help as much as I can.” Yeosang nods, watching as Jeongin finishes his food and sips the last of his water. “I gotta head back into the lab. Thanks again for taking your lunch with me.”

“Same to you.” Jeongin waves just as he stands to throw away his trash and heads back to his work. Yeosang, however, takes a moment to sit and sort through his thoughts; navigating through every scenario he can think of for tonight’s encounter. He wasn’t planning on doing this so soon, but he’s glad he has the opportunity to. He just wants to see you, even though he knows this will hurt. Even though he knows this won’t start off easy. He turns when he hears rain starting to pound against the window, wondering if the sudden downpour has some sort of hidden meaning, some kind of symbolism he should pay attention to behind everything happening.

He watches the rain and wonders if you’re okay. If you’re safe and dry. If you wore a jacket even though you despise wearing one so much because it ‘ruins your outfit.’

Time moves painfully slow, especially during the last few minutes of the workday. Yeosang has tried to keep himself busy as much as possible, even offering to take some tasks off of his coworker’s plate just to continue distracting himself. As soon as it’s time for Yeo to clock out, he bids farewell to his friends and speeds out of the building. The rain is still steadily pouring and he hates that he has to drive in this because it means there’s more traffic on the road that he’ll have to sit through. For once, he wishes he was wrong, because now, not only does he have to sit in traffic, but he has to sit in traffic alone with his thoughts. Maybe it’s not such a bad thing, though; the more he sits with his thoughts, the more he’s able to accept that whatever happens tonight is meant to happen.

Damn.

When he finally hops off the congested highway and exits onto a familiar street, he navigates through the roads before pulling into a small alley. It’s literally about ten minutes on the opposite end from where he lives, and if he wanted to, he could make this walk on a good day. The street you live on is quite narrow that he’s having to park behind a few cars up and walk down to the gate that leads to the entrance of the main house. He plugs in the code Jeongin sent him and steps in, following his direction of walking towards the side of the house to a door near the back corner. He can hear your soft music playing through the window and he has to swallow the lump that forms in his throat because it’s unreal he’s about to face you again after all this time.

Knock, knock, knock.

“It’s about time, I—” You tilt your head in confusion, suddenly feeling queasy when you don’t see Jeongin at your door and instead, you find Yeosang. Your heart drops to your stomach when you see his face. The damp hair strands sticking to his forehead from the rain. His damp button-up, raindrops painting a pattern across his shoulders. His deep brown eyes, long lashes. He’s the only true definition of love you’ve ever known, and he’s standing in front of you again after weeks have gone by. “Yeosang. W-what are you doing here?”

“Your cousin.” He places his hand on the door, hoping you won’t shut it close on his face. He really needs this right now— you both really need this right now. “I think we need to talk.” You’re not able to form any responses, so all you can do is quietly step aside to let him in. He steps out of his shoes and looks around your in-law. It’s awfully similar to your place back in town, and a wave of nostalgia hits him even though he’s here with you. Things just don’t feel the same though, and he hates it.

“How do you know my cousin?”

“We work together.” He looks at you when you finally come to his side and tuck your arms close to your chest.

“Oh.” Is all you manage to say. “You can leave your jacket on the chair. Do you need water—”

“Y/N.” He calls you firmly. “Stop.” 

“Yeosang, I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.” It’s the best thing you can come up with because you truly weren’t prepared for Yeosang to show up on your doorstep. It should be easy because it’s him. But at the same time, it’s difficult because it’s him.

“Why don’t you start by telling me why?”

“I’m sorry—”

“I waited for you. You told me you’d be there and you weren’t. You were here the whole time and you didn’t even try to come see me?”

“You won’t understand.”

“Try me.” He says, stepping closer. “How am I supposed to understand when you won’t even explain what’s going on?”

“I was scared.”

“Scared about what?” He has this look on his face and it screams every fear you’ve had, especially about your relationship. You know this is fully your own thoughts trying to ruin you, to become your downfall— but, still, you hate the way he looks at you and all you’re itching to do is run. “Y/N, I’m trying to understand. Tell me.” His voice is soft, calming. He can pick up on the feelings your exuding, the fear, the anxiety, and that’s not what he came here for. He came here to see you, to understand you, to listen.

“You.”

“What about me?”

“I was afraid you’d realize this wasn’t what you wanted. I mean, I’m all sorts of messed up. Full of baggage and insecurities. You’ll get tired and you’ll realize I’m not worth—”

“Woah, stop.” Yeosang shakes his head. “I’m gonna have to stop you right there. When have I ever showed you this is how I felt about you? Because it’s the complete opposite. I don’t care about all that because I wanna work through it with you. Not once did I ever think any of this wasn’t worth it, even until now.”

“You say that now!”

“I say that now and I’ll say it later, too!” Yeosang matches your tone. “Why would I do all of this if I wasn’t serious about you? I’d go through all of this with you—”

“I didn’t wanna put you through it because you deserve better—”

“You don’t get to decide that for me, Y/N!” Yeosang’s tone rises, and you almost flinch at how [understandably] angry he is right now. He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath, swallowing the lump in his throat causing his jaw to tick. “Why would you assume that about me? About us? Because you’ve been fucked up and damaged in the past? Aren’t we all fucking jaded in one way or another? Why would you compare me to him?”

“I’m sorry.” Your response falls to a whisper as you break into a sob. Yeosang is having to look away with his jaw clenched because he’s angry. He’s livid. But, he hates seeing you cry and he can’t stand it. “I got scared. I didn’t know if I’d be good enough for you.”

“You are always going to be more than enough.” He lets out a sigh. “I’m so sorry, I don’t think I should apologize for your ex’s shitty actions as much as I want to. I know he hurt you and that was fucked up of him to do. I’m sorry it still hurts you. But, I’m not him, Y/N. I will never be. I don’t think I’ve ever done anything to make you feel like I would hurt you or make you feel like you were temporary to me. That’s hurtful. Everything you pulled—” His jaw ticks as he pauses and paces around the room, hand placed on his hip. “You have no fucking idea how hard it was. Not even just for me, but for your friends, too. Why? Why would you just leave? Why would you just leave me?”

❊ FLASHBACK

Yeosang lets out a deep sigh as soon as he parks his car. His body feels incredibly heavy, and he feels like his heart has been ripped out of his chest. He’s sad, and it’s an indescribable type of sadness. He’s never been here before, and quite frankly, he doesn’t know how to navigate this.

He plops onto his couch, feeling incredibly defeated after waiting, and waiting. And waiting. His anxiety is through the roof when he calls your number over and over again, even though he knows where it’ll lead him— an automated bot telling him the number’s no longer in service. He’s tried everything and he doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know if he should leave and search all over town for you, he doesn’t know if he should sleep this off and hope he’ll see a message from you in the morning.

He doesn’t know.

He grabs a coaster from his coffee table and tosses it against the wall out of frustration, digging his head into his hands when he can’t help but cry. He should’ve known this would happen. He should’ve known there was a chance you’d leave.

But he didn’t, and now he’s fucking hurt because he doesn’t know what to do. He loves you, and god, is it the most painful thing to dwell on right now.

He just doesn’t know.

❊ END

“All I ever wanted to do was take care of you and love you the way you deserved to be loved. If you didn’t wanna do this, you could’ve just said so.” Yeosang says softly. “We both didn’t have to go through this if you had just been honest.”

“Yeosang, it’s not that, I just—” But, you’re sorry because you didn’t mean to fuck this up entirely. You’re sorry because you probably lost the one person who genuinely cared and loved you for you. You’re sorry because you wish you knew better and you wish you had a better explanation. “I’m so sorry.”

“I think we both just need more time right now. More space. Maybe it’ll help you figure out what you really want.” He says softly, thumb coming to your cheek to wipe your tears away. As much as he hates leaving you like this, the both of you know it’s the best move. You’ll continue to cry and apologize, and Yeosang will succumb to everything. He’ll always be there for you, but at this point, he is no longer in control of the situation and needs you to come to him when you’re ready. You will need to realize on your own that he is with you, not against you. You will need to realize he is someone you can trust, someone who loves you more than words can explain. He’ll wait— he always has and he will.

“Don’t leave.” It’s so selfish of you to ask when you’ve done the complete opposite to him, but you can’t help it now that he’s in front of you. You wrap your arms around him and he holds you close, lips pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head to try and calm you down.

“I’m not. But, I can’t do this alone, Y/N.” Is all he says and it’s enough to show you just how much this means to Yeosang— how much you mean to him and what he needs from you. Because he’s right, he can’t do this alone. It isn’t a one-way street. As much as Yeosang is willing to be there for you, he’s not the one who has to make the change— you are.

He holds you for a good, long minute before he’s the first to break. He tilts your chin up gently, giving you a soft, sympathetic look because he hopes you understand him. Just as he does with you. He places another kiss on your forehead before he quietly steps into his shoes and leaves. The next thing you know, you’ve fallen to the ground, unable to control the sobs that come next. Even though he reassured you he wasn’t leaving, the entire thing felt completely unsalvageable. Like you lost a part of you, like this couldn’t be fixed.

“I can explain.” Jeongin immediately says when he picks up the phone, but he’s only greeted by your sobs and uncontrollable breathing.

“Please come, Innie.”

“On my way.” He quickly ends the call and leaves the shop he had been lingering around in. He knew he needed to stay alert tonight, and he knew he needed to stay close in case of whatever happened. Although you had been crying, he really hopes something good at 

least came out of this— whether that meant starting over or giving each other time to breathe. He hopes it wasn’t too bad, but he has full faith in Yeosang. He would have only done what was best.

When Jeongin gets to your place, the door is still unlocked and you haven’t moved from your position on the floor near your tiny couch. You’ve got your knees tucked to your chest, head resting down on your knees; small cries muffled from the way you’re positioned. He doesn’t say anything when he throws his arms around you and keeps you close, letting you cry onto him until you’ve released everything you needed to release. 

“What happened?”

“He left. He said we needed time.”

“I think you two do. You need to be honest about what you want, Y/N.”

“I just want him.”

“Then, why did you leave in the first place? Why did you try so hard to keep your two lives separate?” Jeongin asks.

“Because, it felt safer that way.” You retort. “Going to town was my escape from this reality. This reality where everything hurt me— my parents, him. I didn’t wanna mesh the two because I need something, some place, that could be my escape. My peace.”

“You didn’t need to, though. Nothing would have changed because we care about you. We would never let anything or anyone hurt you. I get that you wanted to keep things on the low or keep it separate, but if you had asked for help, we would’ve been there. If you needed a push to get over everything, some reassurance, we all would have been there. We care enough to not let you get stuck in one place.” Jeongin sighs. “Maybe it’s time you stop running from everything, or thinking that everyone is out to hurt you. Because look— I’m here because I care. Your friends here care. Your friends over there worried about you.” He pauses. “Yeosang.”

“I know. I hurt him.” You cry and Jeongin holds you close, slowly rocking you back and forth. “I hurt him so badly. He won’t ever forgive me. He won’t come back, he won’t forgive me.” You go on and on and Jeongin has to shush you to get you to stop, to get you to force those thoughts away. Yeosang wouldn’t.

He wouldn’t. He knows where he lies and that’s with you, no matter how long it takes.

“He will.” Jeongin continues to hold you. “Stop running away, okay? This is enough.”

❊ 6 MONTHS LATER ..

“Longest journey ever.” Wooyoung says, stepping off of the train. “And look who decided to finally fucking show up? Our driver!”

“Not your fucking driver.” Yeosang rolls his eyes after parking the car by the curb and helping his friends.

“The weather’s perfect here.” Jongho snaps some photos while Yeosang throws their bags into the trunk of Jungkook’s car. 

“Assuming Chae didn’t wanna come?”

“Yeah. And guess whose fault that is, heartbreaker?” 

“Jongho, let’s go. I’m leaving his ass here so he can get back on the train—” Wooyoung yells as he hops in the passenger seat and laughs.

“I’m sorry! I’m kidding! She has some family stuff going on, but she said hi and told us she’d text you to relay her birthday message to Y/N.” Yeosang nods. He’s a bit sad knowing one of his bestfriends wouldn’t be here, but he understood. At least, tried to. Things never recovered well after the night of the work party. They tried to be as normal as possible, but there was always some sort of weird, awkward tension between the two that they were never able to move past. It’s sad seeing it go from how close they were to how distant they are now. But, Yeosang will always consider her as one of his good friends, and he’ll always be there for her should she need him for anything. That doesn’t change a thing for him. “Speaking of Y/N, where is she?”

“Probably already drunk at the restaurant because you two decided arriving fashionably late was the best way to go.”

“I had to get a haircut, you dick. I’m not coming here looking like a hot mess.” Wooyoung snaps.

“Ah, on her best birthday behavior, though. Atta girl.” Jongho chuckles. “Did Innie, Ryu, Bin and San get here already?” Wooyoung asks as if he’s known them for years. But, when your friends and Yeosang’s friends finally met, they clicked and got along easily. It didn’t take long for them to mesh together, and you were happy it turned out that way. There was some tension between you and Chaerin, but unintentionally. Yeosang had told you about the night of the party, and it didn’t bother you as much as it did Chaerin. You tried to talk to her and reassure her that things were okay and that you weren’t mad, yet you also tried to give her space knowing how she felt about Yeosang. It was difficult, and she came around less; but, you respected her and her space. You weren’t gonna force her if she didn’t feel comfortable being around you, Yeosang, or the both of you together.

“Yeah, last night. Been a full house.”

“Fun! Can’t wait.” Wooyoung smirks, causing Yeosang to give him a look and Jongho to smack him on the side of the head from behind the passenger seat.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“What! We’re here to have fun, aren’t we?”

“Fun like birthday party yoohoo let’s toss confetti and dance around kind of fun. Not tussle in the sheets and break headboards with the entire house listening kind of fun.” Jongho laughs.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Wooyoung smiles.

“Please don’t.”

“Can’t promise!” He laughs, making Yeosang let out a loud sigh as he drives off to the Jungkook’s uncle’s house that he so graciously offered for everyone to stay at while he was away traveling. Yeo is happy to be back in town with everyone he loves to celebrate you— his baby, his everything.

When Yeosang gets to the house, he gives Wooyoung and Jongho some time to get settled and change into better clothes for the beach party. Everyone is already gathered at the restaurant and on the beach, the DJ all set up with food ready to go. By the time he brings Jongho and Wooyoung over, people from town have already piled in; the loud music and talking echoing into the night sky. Jungkook is the first to greet them, followed by Keeho, Mingi, Mina, Ryujin, Bin and San. Innie is accompanying you on the karaoke machine, causing Yeosang to laugh seeing you two already tipsy and singing loudly together. Everything is loud, somewhat chaotic. It reminds Yeosang of the bonfire and movie night, and how he didn’t know how to act when you initially invited him.

He’s sure as hell glad he just went.

❊ FLASHBACK 

“Gonna stop by the restaurant again tonight? There’s gonna be a bonfire and movie night event. We’ll be serving beer and all that good stuff.”

“Tonight?”

“The flyers are everywhere, silly.” You point at a flyer posted on the pole behind him. “Come, it’ll be fun.”

“Mm, I’ll think about it.” You cock your head to the side and slightly pout. “Sorry, it’s just not my thing. I..” Yeosang lets out a breath as he scratches at the back of his neck. “I probably sound really lame. But, lots of people. Noise. Gets kinda overwhelming.” He shrugs.

“I understand.” You give him a tiny toothless smile. “That’s okay! I promise it won’t be too crazy, and it’s pretty chill. But, totally up to you.”

“Thanks for extending the invite.” You nod. “Any more water to carry in?” You laugh.

“Nope! Thank you again. See you around?” Yeosang nods, watching as you step into the restaurant and start helping the middle-aged lady inside despite her playful efforts of shoo’ing you away. Yeosang shifts his gaze to his two feet, kicking at the rocks beneath them before walking down the path to the grocery store. He’s kinda cursing himself for sounding so fucking lame in front of you. Lots of people? Noise? What was he thinking? It wasn’t necessarily a lie, though— he actually doesn’t like to be in crowded places for long, doesn’t really like to party or do bonfires, socialize for long periods of time with people he doesn’t know well. Is the type of person to join a team dinner for the free food but will be gone in the next hour or so. Will join a work party because he feels obligated to show face for at least an hour before rushing home to get in bed. But, he’s cursing himself because he is on vacation, exploring new territory and breathing in new scenery. He should have some fun. He should’ve tried a little harder to sound a bit more interested.

“Jesus, Kang Yeosang.” He mutters to himself before shaking his head and heading off to the grocery store to grab some necessities for the studio.

❊ END

“My man!” You squeal loudly just as the 100% score comes up on the screen for you and Jeongin, jumping onto Yeosang and clinging onto him like a koala. He laughs and rubs your back, gently setting you back down on your feet. “Where’s—” You scream when you see Wooyoung and Jongho emerge from behind after greeting your friends. You run past Yeosang and throw your arms around Wooyoung and Jongho, your voice and Wooyoung’s voice loud enough to overpower the entire crowd gathered around the restaurant.

“Cheers, my guy.” Mingi and Jeongin hand him a shot filled to the brim, tapping their glasses against his before they take it to the neck.

“She’s drunk already.”

“Good, as she should be.” Yeosang squints and makes a face when the shot settles and travels down his chest.

“Who is with me on the karaoke machine?!” Changbin yells, pulling Mina from the side and forcing her to sing along with him.

“Let’s go dance!” You drag Yeosang to the sand where others are dancing, including Jungkook, Ryujin, San and Keeho. Mingi, Jeongin, Wooyoung and Jongho follow along after catching up with a few shots, a cocktail in hand to wash off the icky tequila aftertaste. You, Yeosang and your friends sing along to the songs playing, in between dancing with each other and keeping the party hyped. From time to time, Yeosang will pull you away to get his one-on-one time with you— always hugging you close, even when he’s just playfully dancing with you or letting you work your ass on him.

It’s a good night, a fun one; just exactly how you imagined your birthday to turn out. 

After all the dancing and drinking, you silently sneak away to pick at the finger foods and fill your tummy so that you can be at a good balance tonight. You pop a few more pieces of the sushi bake Keeho made before sipping on water and stepping off to the side of the beach, observing the waves from where the rocks sit high and scatter among the sand. Although it wasn’t too congested at the party, it felt nice to step away and take a breather on your own.

“Come here often?” You hear Yeosang from behind you, his hands tucked behind his back as he shyly watches you turn to face him.

“I do, do you? Heard the breakfast is good here.” He chuckles before wrapping his arms around you from behind, placing a kiss to your head.

“What’re you thinking about?”

“Just watching the ocean like we used to. Can’t believe we’re back here with everyone.”

“Back where everything started.”

“Mmyeah. Exactly.” You giggle, leaning back into his chest.

“Happy birthday, my baby.” He says softly near your ear before smothering your cheek with tiny, repeated kisses. “I wanted to give you your present.” You feel his hands come around you, draping the silver necklace around your neck. It’s a small heart, with an infinity sign intertwined in the middle. You gasp when he finally secures it around your neck, earning a small chuckle from your boyfriend.

“Wait, this is the necklace I’ve been secretly eyeing! How’d you know?!” You pout, tears forming on your bottom lids.

“You don’t have to cry, princess.” Yeosang laughs. “I just do. You think I don’t catch you going back to visit the necklace at that shop every opportunity you get?” You laugh.

“I love it.” You smile at him. “You’re the best.” You tippytoe to kiss him on the lips.

“I know.” You roll your eyes and shake your head, admiring the necklace in silence a little more.

“Sangie?” You break the silence and fully turn to face him, hands resting on the nape of his neck.

“Mhm?”

“Thank you.” 

“For what?” He taps the tip of your nose, causing you to let out a small giggle.

“I just wanna say thank you for everything that you do for me.” He doesn’t respond. Instead, he dips forward to lock you in a kiss; his hands coming to squeeze at your sides. This, too, hadn’t been easy nor perfect, but he wouldn’t want it any other way. 

❊ FLASHBACK

“Hey!” You smile through facetime, watching as Keeho, Mingi and Jungkook pile behind Mina in the shot. It had been about another month since your interviews wrapped up and you were offered the job at the aquarium [just as you had hoped]. A month since the encounter with Yeosang. A month since you finally left the past where it belonged in order to move forward.

“Okay, so she’s glowing!” Keeho laughs. “Whattup bae! How’s everything?”

“Good! I’ve been busy already starting my job at the aquarium.”

“Busy being our ‘lil aquarium worker.” Mingi laughs. “Congrats Y/N!”

“Knew your ass would get it!” Jungkook chimes in.

“Stop it.” You laugh, happy to see your friends all together at the restaurant. “Thank you, though.”

“We miss you.” Mina pouts. “I’m glad you called. It’s been different without you.”

“I’ll be back soon!” You reassure her. “I’ll visit, okay?”

“You swear?”

“Swear.”

“How’s everything been back home, though?” Jungkook asks.

“Mm, well. I finally talked to my parents after awhile. I think we’re okay for now. Definitely have things to work on because of how things have gone down between us in the past, but we’re okay.” You had just come from your parents house, and although you had expected the visit to be rough, it wasn’t as bad as you thought. There are still a lot of things you and your parents need to work on together, but today was a start. Your parents had told you how much they missed you and how much they worried about you, your mom being the first to apologize about everything that had happened in the past. You did tell them about starting a job at the aquarium, and they congratulated you. Your dad was still awkward about the entire thing, but you saw a side of him that you hadn’t seen in a long time today. He was softer. Happy to see you doing well and healthy. Genuinely congratulated you for taking those steps. A lot of his beliefs and values are still deeply rooted within him, but you think this might have served as a good learning lesson for him and something he could look back on. They were happy to have you back, happy to have you nearby. They were happy, and you were, too. It wasn’t gonna be an easy journey, and it wasn’t perfect, but you’ll take what you can work with and lift some weight off of your shoulders.

“What about Yeo?” You bite onto your botton lip.

“I’m gonna try and see him in a bit.”

“Gonna go get your man back?” You shyly nod, making everyone ‘aw’ in unison.

“Good. He’s good for you, and you deserve to be happy. Both of you.”

“I’ll let you guys know how it goes. I just wanted to call you and say hi.”

“You look good, Y/N. You look happy. Don’t lose that.” You giggle and nod.

“I’ll be back soon, yeah? I expect a whole ass party and a big group hug as soon as I step into that restaurant.” Keeho snorts.

“With what money?” You laugh.

“I’ll call you guys later.”

“Okay, be safe!” Jungkook says as they all wave. “Love youuuuuu!” They all say in their own sing-song ways before cutting the call. You send Jeongin a few texts to let him know how the whole thing with your parents went before letting him know you were on your way to try and see Yeosang. Although some time had passed, you were hoping he’d still be open to seeing you and talking to you about everything. The time surely helped, and you were willing to accept how things turned out— whether that meant starting over with Yeosang or being friends.

“Hi.” 

“Hey.” Yeosang licks his lips, letting out a small huff after pausing his quick workout. He’s relieved to hear from you, and to be frank, he missed hearing your voice. He had been waiting for this moment, and even though the wait was excruciating, everything about you was worth it. He missed you.

“Can I come over so we can talk?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll send you my address. It’s close to you.” 

“Okay. I’ll be there in about 10 minutes or so?”

“Do you want me to come get you?”

“It’s okay. I’m already out, I’ll take a taxi over.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay. See you soon, pretty.” You smile to yourself hearing the term of endearment from Yeosang even after all this time. His love pure, genuine— not ever coming short.

Your nerves are slightly getting to the best of you as you sit and wait for the pastries you ordered to be packed up by the staff member assisting you. When she hands over the boxes, you thank her with a smile and immediately call a taxi to head over to Yeosang’s place. You twiddle your thumbs and constantly smooth down the material of your clothes, nervous about how everything will turn out. The both of you have shared small texts here and there just to check in, but it was clear the two of you were trying to keep a good distance until things felt more settled. He wanted to give you time to work on yourself and figure things out on your own, even though he was fighting everything within him to do so. The amount of times he wanted to just call you, come to your house, kiss you and make love to you— tell you to forget everything that’s happened and to start over right then and there.

He always wanted to do right by you, even if that meant letting you go for a bit.

He tidies up his place even though there isn’t much mess to clean. He’s a simple guy, has little things here and there. Your photos, your shell sitting on his nightstand. He lights some incense and sets it at the corner of his living room to liven up his space. He’s in a simple fit after running to the grocery store, still clad in his black pants and charcoal-colored tshirt. 

Should he have made something for you?

“Shit.” He says, trying to rummage through his fridge. But, he realizes it’s too late when he hears the bell go off and he’s having to buzz you into the building. Sooner or later, soft knocks come to the door and Yeosang is shaking off his nerves, letting out a breath. “Hey.” It comes off a lot smoother, more collected, than he expected. Goodjob, Kang Yeosang. Pat on the fucking back.

“Hi.” You give him that cute smile of yours just as you walk in and step out of your shoes, curious eyes exploring his place. “Wow, your place is so.. you.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s nice. Perfect.” You chuckle. “Don’t worry.” You show him the small box in your hand. “I bring some pastries.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“I didn’t have to, but I wanted to.” 

“Are you sharing with me?” You nod and he smiles, setting it onto the coffee table as he plops down and sits next to you. His eyes quickly scan your outfit and how beautiful you look today. You don’t even have to try and it makes Yeosang’s heart soar. You're so fucking pretty.

God, he is so in love with you. 

“What’d you do today?” He looks at you with the utmost attention and it gives you butterflies.

“Hm, I just ran a few errands and talked to my parents. Talked to everyone back in town.” His eyes widen.

“You talked to your parents? How’d that go?”

“Better than I expected. It’s not perfect, things still feel kinda awkward but it was good. We’re okay and I think we’ll be able to work through things over time. They congratulated me when I told them about the aquarium.”

“That’s good! I’m happy to hear that. You deserve it. Hope Keeho and them are doing well, too.”

“Thank you.” You smile at him for a little longer before you feel the heat rise to your cheeks. “Yeah, they are. What did you do today?”

“Grab groceries.” He scratches at his temple. “I—uh, I’m sorry I didn’t prepare anything beforehand. I didn’t think about it until it was too late.”

“It’s okay.” You giggle. 

“So, have you been okay otherwise?” You shrug.

“I think? I’m doing better than before.”

“Good.” 

“You?”

“I’ve seen better days.” You slightly pout.

“Sangie.” His heart does flips when you say his nickname that way, when you look at him the way you do. You scoot closer to him on the couch and he welcomes it, resting his arm against the back edge so you can slot yourself right in the opening. “Sangie, I’m so, so sorry.” You cup his cheeks and caress the surface. “I just got scared, and I’m so sorry for leaving.” You watch as he leans into your touch a little more. “I know I should’ve known better and I shouldn’t have ran in the first place, but it was the only safe thing I knew. I was so used to doing it that I didn’t even think about how it’d affect you or anybody else in the long run. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He lets out a breath, his hand coming up to hold your wrist.

“You know I’m here with you, not against you, right? I would never do anything to hurt you. I don’t care about what happened in the past, I don’t care what people have said about you. All that matters to me is that you’re taken care of and happy. That’s all I wanna do, and that’s all I wanna do with you.” He cups your cheeks and lifts your head slightly so that he can look at you, fully look at you, and take you in. “You’re everything to me and nothing about that will change, Y/N. No matter what.”

“I know, I know that.” You repeat. “I love you, and I’m sorry. I wanna do this with you, and I don’t want anything else. Only you.” 

“We can take our time with this.” He places a gentle kiss against the palm of your hand. “We can take it slow.”

“Okay.” Your voice falls to a whisper. 

“Me and you, yeah?” He asks for some kind of reassurance. You nod, crawling onto his lap to sit comfortably on him.

“Just me and you.” He gives you a small smile before gripping your chin gently and bringing you down for a kiss. It starts off strong, as if all the desire he had been holding in could finally be released. 

“Missed you.” He whispers in between kisses, hands resting on your hips while his tongue slowly prods your mouth. “Missed you so fucking much.”

“Missed you too, love.” The kiss gets sloppier and sloppier; teeth clicking in a fit of need, tongues fighting over dominance. 

“Need to move this to the room. Now.” Yeosang hisses. He swoops you into his arms in one swift motion, causing you to squeal as you hold him tightly around the neck. He tugs off your shirt and tosses it across the living room while making his way to the bedroom. You follow the same urgency, tugging on Yeosang’s shirt just as he places you down on the edge of the bed. He sheds it off and lets it fall to the floor, his hands now working on your pants to get you completely bare for him. He places kisses on every inch of your body that he possibly can— moving from your throat, down to the base of your neck, your collarbone. Chest. He leaves feathery kisses down your valley of breasts, hand coming up to massage your tit before working his lips, his tongue, around your perked nipples. You let out an audible gasp, back arching off of the bed as he finally pulls your pants down and lets them join his shirt on the floor. He tugs your panties down and doesn’t waste a moment to leave a trail of kisses along your inner thighs. 

“Wanna take care of you.” He says deeply just as he lowers himself in between your thighs and kisses your folds, your aching nub. His tongue slowly laps in between your folds, teasing your entrance before kissing his way back up to your clit and focusing his efforts on getting you off. You let out a loud moan when you feel the tip of his tongue nudge at your clit a couple of times, spreading your slick and his saliva all over your pussy. 

He kisses you, touches you, like he’s been starved for years.

Your grip on his head tightens, hips grinding against his mouth to relieve the friction you are so desperately chasing, needing.

“Oh, fuck— Yeosang—” You cry, overwhelmed by the sudden orgasm that comes crashing down on you. Your thighs close in on him as he continues to suck on your clit, keeping himself there until he feels your body settle in his grip; until he feels your hands loosen around his head. He bites onto his bottom lip as he gets himself out of his own pants, stroking himself while his eyes glaze over your entire body.

“So perfect for me.”

“Need you, Sangie.” You mewl, his dick feeling painfully hard in his own hand. He slots himself in between your legs, free hand making sure to keep your legs cocked open for him. He takes his cock and taps it onto your sensitive heat a few times, taking the tip in between your folds and nudging it against your clit. He lets out a loud groan when he feels how wet you are against him, no longer able to contain himself. “Please, babe.” You beg, feeling him run his dick down your slick once more before breaching your entrance; taking his time to fill you up until he bottoms out. 

Everything feels like it’s happening at the speed of light, unable to relish in every second. But, you need Yeosang. You need him just as badly as he needs you.

You feel tingles run down your spine as Yeosang finds a steady pace, hands placed on your inner thighs so he can watch his cock slip in and out of you with ease. His moans are mixed with yours, bouncing off the walls of his room along with the sounds of skin slapping against skin. Him pounding into you like there’s no tomorrow, like he needs to make up for lost time and show you just how desperate he is to have you.

“Ugh, fuck.” He lets out just as he lowers his body and hovers over you; his pace fast, quick. “Does it feel good, baby?” He’s right by your ear, teeth gently nibbling at your ear lobe.

“Yes—s-so good.” You can barely respond. Your hands thread into the ends of his hair as he continues to position himself right at the crook of your neck, keeping him close. “Keep going, just like that.” 

“My special girl.” He groans, nibbling at the surface of your neck. “Gonna give you everything.” He pants while pounding into you. “Shit— Y/N, baby—” He moans. “Where do you want me? Mm’gonna cum.”

“Inside. Please, please, please.” You continue to beg, working your own hips against him to relieve the ache you feel, craving every bit of him. The entire moment is so intense; powered with so much passion and need that you feel yourself tipping over the edge, ready to snap all over again. 

“I love you so much.” He says against your lips before his brows knit together, face contorting in pleasure when he releases his seed inside of you. You reach your second high at the same time, back arching against Yeosang while he’s trying to bring himself back down from cloud nine. “That’s it, baby. Give it to me.” He breathes, hearing you whine in his hold— the aftershocks of your orgasm still surging through your veins. 

“I love you.” You respond. It takes a few minutes before you’re able to open your eyes and regulate your breathing, Yeosang cooing you and whispering sweet praises against your skin before kissing your cheek. Lips. Then, he plops onto the mattress next to you, bringing you onto his chest to hold you close. Keep you there right where you belong. With him.

“Stay with me tonight?”

“Thought you’d never ask.” You tease with a giggle, hugging him tightly as you shut your eyes momentarily and take in all of Yeosang beneath you— his soft skin, his touch. His scent. “Sangie.”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I really missed you.”

“I missed you too. You have no idea.” He places a kiss on the top of your head, finger gently tracing shapes on your back to relax you. 

❊ END 

“Aye, birthday girl! We’ve got the cake out!” Keeho shouts from the restaurant. “Bring that ass over so we can sing happy birthday!” 

“Anything for you, hm?” He playfully taps your nose before grabbing your hand and kissing the surface. “Come, let’s go see your cake.” Yeosang smiles down at you and gives you another kiss to the forehead before leading you to the cake table. He had worked with a bakery to get your favorite cake— a simple ½ sheet vanilla cake with strawberry coulis, fresh strawberries and vanilla meringue icing. It was a simple but beautiful cake, with baby pink hues and dried flowers decorating the surface. Jungkook sticks two skinny candles down the middle, apologizing with a giggle for the shortage and for assuming he had more sitting in the restaurant. The crowd cheers and loudly sings happy birthday together before it falls silent when it’s your turn to make a wish. Yeosang admires you from the side, looking at you with pure adoration when your doe-eyes light up and you blow the candles out. Mingi helps snap pictures and polaroids, shaking them in between before laying them near your cake for you to see. Just as you turn to Yeosang for a kiss, he instantly swipes some of the icing down your cheek and laughs— running away from your wrath before surrendering due to your cute [but deadly] pouts and whines.

“I’m sorry, love. I had to.” He laughs, wiping at your cheek with a wet wipe. “You’re so cute.”

“You’re lucky I love you.”

“I am lucky.” He winks, causing you to snort. He puckers his lips for a kiss before helping Jungkook cut the cake and pass the slices along to everyone in attendance. Mingi calls you over to show you the rest of the pictures he took, proud of the work he’s done capturing the best moments from tonight.

“Happy looks good on her. The both of you, actually.” Jeongin says as he steps next to Yeosang, watching as you and Mingi continue to look at the pictures and laugh loudly together. “I’m really happy you two worked it out and never gave up on each other.”

“I am, too. And I don’t ever plan on changing that.” Yeosang continues to admire you.

“Yeah? This is it?” Jeongin smiles.

“She is.”

"Thank you for taking care of her." Yeosang returns the smile before diverting his attention to you as soon he hears you calling him over.

"Baby! Come look at these pictures!" You wave them up in the air happily. Now, you can add a few more polaroids to your collection— ones that have all your loved ones in one place. Ones of you and Yeosang. He can continue to add a few more sea shells to his night stand, ones picked by yours truly. And as far as he knows, he can continue to watch the waves crash against the shore with you. He can continue to grab the stars and place them in your hold just so you know what it feels like.

He can continue to shower you with love, give you all the flowers. This time, they won’t reach the floor. Because he has you, will always have you;

You— the purest, most raw, genuine definition of love, a flower he’ll continue to water and grow. 

Blossom.

❊ taglist: @frzzenfrxg @syubseokie @asjkdk @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr

[amorchai]

𝐋𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆.

written for my old blog but never posted!

pairing(s): tangerine x assassin!reader

words: 919

warnings/tags: mutual pining, mention of scissors, pet names, arguing friends to lovers, lemon playing cupid, cursing.

“just let me take over and i’ll pull the fucker open,” tangerine interjects, leaning down to lemon who is currently knelt on the ground trying to pick the wired-shut door to the train bathroom. you patiently waiting, tangerine… not so much.

“if you stop breathing down my neck i would be able to do it,” lemon replies, listening as tangerine huffs angrily before leaning against the train window, shoulder nudging yours. you look at him amused with a small, “just because you have big arms doesn’t mean you’re unstoppable.”

his eyes glare but a small smirk coats under his moustache, “yeah? you think i have big arms, love?” tangerine nods to his folded arms, shirt sleeves rolled up to show the hair and tattoos to his forearms and you try your best not to look.

“don’t get ahead of yourself, sunshine,” you tease back, the nickname he hates that is quite the opposite of him. his jaw clenches at the mention, looking away from you but back to his brother which neither of you notice the agitated state as he pauses with each flirtatious response.

“maybe we could get scissors?” you suggest to him, and lemon nods, his fingers stop fidgeting with the tangled mess. he grunts when he leans back on the balls of his feet, “that could work, actually yeah. tangerine?” lemon consults.

there’s no response and lemon wipes his hands against his trousers before he stands, turning to look at tangerine who seems lost in a daze, you awaiting his response too. lemon reaches over to wave his hand across the vision of tangerine’s disconnected view and you nudge him, “tangerine? lemon asked you a question.”

he snaps back into it, looking up to his brother, to you, and a smirk coats his lips as he looks back to his brother, “sorry, was busy thinking of y/n saying my arms were big. what’d ye say?” both you and lemon huff, lemon raising his hands in frustration before slapping each of his legs, “you know what, i’ve had enough of this ‘will they won’t they’ bullshit—”

“what the fuck—?” before tangerine can interrupt, lemon continues, “spending each and every job to flirt the entire time and forcing me to watch, it’s not cute anymore.” both you and tangerine stare at lemon with wide eyes as he rants, a thick tension coating the air of the unspoken thing being spoken.

“now i’ll go find a pair of scissors, and you better have sorted this whole thing out by the time i’m back,” before lemon leaves, he glares at his brother, “i’m talking to you by the way, you arsehole.”

it’s silent as you and tangerine watch lemon leave the cart, looking back on you both when the automated door shuts over and gesturing to you dramatically. tangerine chuckles awkwardly, looking back to you with a low, “somebody must’ve slipped something into his water, cheeky fucker.”

you watch as tangerine moves, swiftly stepping his feet to stand in front of you, hand anxiously petting his moustache as he avoids your gaze. “yeah, he’s crazy,” you laugh just as awkwardly as he did, unsure of how to act.

but after a beat of silence you’re outwardly thinking, “is he though?” tangerine glances at you, hand dropping to point where lemon had just left, gold rings shining, “what, lemon? yeah he’s fucking mental, talks about trains all day—”

“no, tangerine. you know i meant what he said about us.”

tangerine sighs, processing what you’ve said. there was always something there, always something unspoken and high in tension as you both held off from acting on it and it was all tumbling around due to lemon’s interference.

“no. he’s not.”

you move your gaze back to tangerine who is already looking at you, as if either of you are awaiting further instruction, seeing who acts first. “so, what now?” you ask him, eyes looking at him expectantly and his fleet across your features before letting out a, “fuck it.”

you’re shocked as he steps forward, hands cupping your cheeks and you stop leaning against the wall to move closer to him, his height towering over yours as he leans down to kiss you. your lips squish together easily and he’s hard and impatient.

nudging his head to the side, tangerine makes you feel light-headed by how intense and passionate he’s kissing you, your slight-shaking hands tugging on his fancy vest before reaching for the curly hair at the nape of his neck.

he walks you back a couple of steps, your back meeting the cold glass again as one hand leaves your jaw to rest at the wall beside your head, lips continuing to move against one another, only pulling back for a moment's breath.

tangerine pulls away all too soon for you, you’re out of breath and giggling profusely, resting your forehead against his heaving chest as he finally wears a genuine smile you don’t see often. the hand that was on your cheek moves to the back of your head, fingers rubbing your scalp as you both laugh.

and it dies down and you lift your head back up to look at the man, who leans down to peck your lips once more, interrupted by the smooth sound of the cart door opening, lemon’s voice booming down the room, “fucking finally, jesus christ, man.”

you both pull away to look at tangerine’s brother, who just shows off the scissors in his hand with a grin, “got ‘em.”

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