#because I'm not really ready to acknowledge that it's over

[sweetinsaniiity]

Hiii i LOVE your fics <3

Could you please write something about Mingi having a long distance relationship with Mingi being a cry baby when he misses his s/o? and maybe they end up living together at some point? i'm sure im gonna love it no matter what you write so feel free to let your imagination run love!! thank you so much :)

I apologize that this take longer than it should've. I do love angst more than I should so I got a little carried away with it. Do heed the warnings, please.

Another Bottle Down

genre/au: sad!Mingi, long-distance relationship au, he's got a lot of pride but he does love you, he does lash out on you a bit tho, established relationship, hurt, angst, reconciliation rating/warning: PG-18+ so MDNI!!! no smut, but it's MDNI because of dark themes such as - alcohol addiction, implied drug usage (mentioned once, non-descriptive), severe depression, mental breakdown word count: 10.8K words (I enjoyed this a little too much)

Deceit. 

If he was being honest, the burning yet soothing sensation of the peaty and smoky scotch that he just downed in one go should have been his last. Mingi wasn’t a scotch type of guy, he would go as far as describe the dark amber sloshing in his glass as he twirled it somewhat medicinal, but it was easier to pretend he liked it rather than not feel anything at all.

Power. 

He treads a line that fractures all that he was inside, walking along the edge where his mind was beginning to break from all the thinking. The music in the musty, run-of-the-mill bar he was in had long stopped, but his drinking had not.

“How are you holding up, bud?”

Mingi didn’t bother turning around to acknowledge the voice accompanied with the light touch of a hand he knew well purposefully placed on his shoulder to grab his attention. It was dexterous and skilled, yet battered in brutish in nature. Such was Yunho’s personality as well.

But it wasn’t the hand he wanted. It wasn’t the hand he longed to feel on his touch-starved skin.

“As well as a man could be,” Mingi shrugged, scoffing before he swiveled his head just in time to watch Yunho sit beside him on the rickety stool that he was quite surprised has held up over the years. “Said it gets easier, but they lied.”

His hand tightened on the finely-crafted crystalline glass, ignoring the tiny droplets of condensation that had built up on the sides of it to hit it back to his throat, but Yunho firmly grips his hand to stop him. His bottom lip juts out in an involuntary frown.

“Min, you gotta stop this,” Yunho’s firm voice said. Or at least, that’s what he thought he said; his head was full of cotton and despair. “Seriously, man, snap out of it. You’ve been getting drunk every single night. It’s not healthy—”

He knocks off Yunho’s hand to finish the scotch anyway. He ignores the sharp tick of Yunho’s jaw when he signals the bartender for another refill. He’ll just blame it on his current inebriation.

One thing he could never blame on his drunken behaviour, though, was the rope that held the power of his self-control slowly thinning. Just one tug, one more little tug, and it will snap. 

“Seriously, San? Seriously?” Yunho hissed at the feline-eyed bartender, his eyes glaring at the scotch bottle that was ready to fill up Mingi’s glass once more. “This is an addiction at this point—”

San rolled his eyes, though if Mingi looked hard enough, there was the telltale sign of pity lingering somewhere in the haze of his current annoyance. He hated it. God, he abhorred the pitiful glances. 

“I’m just trying to do my job,” San points out. “I say let him, nothing gets through that thick skull of his. If he wants to die of alcohol poisoning, let him. Better the bottle than the snow—”

“The what?” Yunho snaps his head towards Mingi with the most angered yet disappointed expression he had ever seen his sweetest friend make. “Song Mingi, how could you? Cocaine, really? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Indifference. 

He ignored him, closing his eyes and seeing you, clearer than he had in weeks. Not just the small photograph he’d kept in his wallet - breathing, laughing, and turning his world upside down like you always did.

Mingi didn’t mean to do it. He just wanted to soothe the ache of the desperate, trembling hole in his heart where you should have been. He was in the same bar, just minding his damn business, when a random face offered to hook him up. Who was he to disagree? 

The next thing he knew, he was kneeling on the bathroom floor, his nose powdered up, his eyes crossed in the most pleasurable sensation known to mankind. It was orgasmic, almost.

Of course, that was before he was found by his other friend, Yeosang, who did not hesitate to give him the biggest backhand towards the face.

“Glad you had a good time, Mingi. Most do,” he sneered, disappointment fleeting on his face mixed with genuine anger. “You have no idea what you just got yourself into.”

“You think Y/N doesn’t know?” Yunho’s voice hit a higher octave, and the words dug into Mingi like a blade. "You think you’re hiding it from her? Fuck, Mingi, she’s gonna see it. She’ll feel the way you’re slowly slipping away from her instead of just talking to her.”

Mingi had wanted to tell him to shut up, but the words wouldn’t come. His pride was all that was left of him, that last bastion of strength he'd clung to when everything else had slipped through his fingers.

As if he had a change of heart, San knocks the scotch he had poured on Mingi’s glass, himself, using the back of his hands to wipe the stray amber trailing down his lips. He sighed, leaning on his elbows to look Mingi straight in the eye.

“Dude, we know your pride is higher than the moon. You’re worse than Hongjoong, and that’s saying a lot,” he said. “Just talk to Y/N, please. She loves you. Please, Min, answer your phone…”

And that was the worst part, wasn't it? You fell in love with Mingi’s wallowing despair that shone in black. It consumed him, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. His chest twisted, he has never felt so alone because he left his heart in Seoul - with you.

It was just like yesterday when you packed your bags and said goodbye to him for what seemed like the millionth time. It was fine, he told himself, you are your own person and who was he to stop you from flourishing in your career? But, it never really did get easier. Especially when you’d kiss his tears and tell him that, really, you’d be back before he knew it.

He’d smile, then, but he’d look away after so you didn’t have to see him cry.

“You know what the truth is?” Yunho scoffed, pushing his stool away harshly to stand up to him, his face inching nearer and nearer towards his face. “The ugly truth, Mingi? The bitter pill you will never be ready to swallow?”

Mingi side-eyed the man, the temptation to kiss his face using his fists growing stronger and stronger. “You do not want to go there, Jeong Yunho.”

His fingers tightened around the glass in his hand. He wasn’t ready to break, not yet. He was spiraling out of control and deeper down the rabbit hole that were his hollow insides. He wasn’t ready yet.

“This is an addiction, Mingi. You’re one foot in the fucking grave all because you refuse to admit that you cannot live without Y/N,” Yunho spat, his voice cracking in between.

His hand gripped Mingi’s arm, forcing the other to look him straight in the eye. “Please, Mingi. There is no shame in admitting that you’re falling apart without her. You need help, you need her. Please.”

Mingi shoved his hand away, anger slowly filling his head. They didn’t get it, nobody did. The last thing he ever wanted was to suffocate you. If you saw it, if you knew the depth of how much he needed you, would it be too much? Would you feel guilty for not being there, for not holding him, and would that make you want to leave?

The thought made his stomach turn. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep pretending that he wasn’t breaking apart, piece by piece, but damn, it was getting harder to pretend.

He fell fast, he fell hard, and you were different. You were the one. It was a little too much too soon to tell you that and Mingi was absolutely terrified that you were going to run away from him the moment you realized just how needy he was. All the people he ever loved before did.

“I’m not playing anymore,” Yunho went on, voice trembling with barely contained rage, or maybe fear. “You think hiding how bad you’re drowning makes you stronger?”

“Yunho, stop it, you’re causing a scene,” San frowned, grabbing the taller to potentially stop him from doing something he regretted, lifting his hand to signal who Mingi presumed was Yeosang, who was also the bar guard. “This isn’t helping anyone—”

“He’s being a coward,” Yunho brusquely shoves San away, glaring back at Mingi. “It makes you a fucking coward, yeah? And I’m done watching you rot in here, pretending you’re some tragic fucking hero.”

And just like that, something cracked. Quietly, like a glass set down too hard but not quite shattered.

Boundaries. 

“Yunho’s right, though,” San sighed, his voice somber yet somehow heavier. “There’s no shame in needing her, man. None. You acting like you’ve gotta carry all this alone, like you can’t let her see you hurt? That’s not strength. That’s pride talking. And it’s gonna kill you,” he paused, pointing at the phone in front of him. “You’ve been ignoring her calls, too. I don’t get it, you miss her, yet you ignore her at the same time?”

Mingi’s throat clenched. He swallowed, hard, but the lump stayed there, thick and immovable. “There’s gonna come a day when she’s not there to come back to, “ San said. “When you’ve pushed so hard, she stops reaching. And that’ll be on you.”

My guilt and my shame always sell me short and they always feel the same. 

Mingi let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “You think I don’t know that?”

Yunho and San both went quiet. “I know exactly what I’m doing,” Mingi said, voice rising now, eyes suddenly wet. “You think I want to ignore her? You think this feels good? I’ve found my fucking vice.” Despite his cool temperament, he couldn’t help but throw the glass he was holding towards the floor, the crash of it momentarily stopping time as everyone stared at the three of them before going back to their business. Things like these always happened in the bar, and Mingi’s outburst was no exception.

Rage. 

“It literally lives in a bottle and wants me to die,” Mingi snapped, banging his chest as a single frustrated tear fell from his eye. “I’m sick of drinking what’s little of my life left, goddamn it, and I can’t remember anything during and after. It’s the only way I can lie to her and tell her I’m fine when I’m clearly not.”

“Mingi...” San tried, but Mingi stood abruptly, grabbing his coat off the back of the chair.

“I don’t expect you to understand. I’m trying, I really am. This isn’t fun anymore, you know? But some days it’s just easier to stare at my ceiling while my fucking body’s glued to the floor than to remember how much I miss her. ”

He shoved his arms through his sleeves, his movements jerky and frustrated as he looked at Yunho in the eye. He didn’t move. He just watched him with sad, knowing eyes. “When did your king start living inside a glass bottle, Min?”

“Every single damn time I want to push my fingers in my eyes to slowly stop my head from exploding.”

Mingi’s gaze dropped to the floor for a second, then to his phone again, still face-down. A message notification glowed faintly beneath the cracked screen. He didn’t pick it up. He wasn’t ready to talk to you. Instead, muttering that he needed air as he walked out, the door slamming behind him, his figure vanishing without anybody to stop him.

Mingi shoved his hands into his coat pockets and started walking, no direction in mind. All he knew was that he wanted to walk away from Yunho’s disappointment, away from San’s quiet truths, and away from the phone still buzzing in his pocket like a heartbeat he didn’t want to hear.

But most especially, he wanted to walk away from himself. Because Yunho was right - whatever he was feeling was a pill he couldn’t swallow whole. So, instead, it had swallowed him whole and was now following him home.

The truth was, he wants to be alive. But nobody understood that needing someone made you fragile. And Mingi had been fragile for too long already. If he really was on the fast track towards his grave, then he’d rather be alone.

He barely stopped at the sidewalk during a red light, not by his own will, but by a passing car that splashed water up his pants. He sighed, immediately sobering up. It was fine, it was a fucked up sign that he was still alive as he walked alone.

Absence. 

His phone buzzed again. He didn’t need to look, he knew it was you. You always texted whenever Mingi missed your calls, you were a sweetheart and an angel like that for always checking up on him.

And he wanted to answer. God, he wanted to. But he was terrified of sounding so weak that you’d leave Seoul to fly back to him first thing in the morning. You were chasing your dreams, grabbing the promotion you’d been wanting for as long as Mingi could remember. He’s a bastard, but not much that he’d snuff the beautiful twinkle from your eyes.

But worse than that, what if you realized he was holding on by threads and decided it wasn’t worth saving?

So he just kept walking. Past the corner where you both used to get late-night snacks, past the train station bench where he’d waited the day you left, past every memory that whispered your name like it had nowhere else to go.

All Mingi wanted was to give you love that leaves you breathless. But he can’t. He’d spent so many days racking his brain to try to find a way to get away from himself, that’s all he needs to find now.

So for now, Mingi kept walking. Not towards anything, just away.

Disappointment fills your lungs as a sigh bubbles up from the depths of them. You didn’t even realize that you were holding your breath the entire time the phone rang in your ear. The grating ringing and the repetitive sound of the call dropping did nothing to ease your worries, and just like before, you had no choice but to try again later during the day.

“Hey, it’ll be alright, darling,” Seonghwa cooed, smoothing your hair out of your face. “Is he not picking up, still? Maybe he’s busy, different time zones and all. Where are you guys located again?”

“Maybe, his work does keep him busy a lot, yes,” you smiled, the gesture not quite reaching your eyes, trying to convince yourself that that was the case even when you knew it was not. “I’m from Boston, he lives in Manhattan.”

Seonghwa hums, grabbing both of your coffee orders from the barista like a gentleman. “Quite the distance there,” he murmured, looking around for a place to sit in the trendy cafe near the company you both were assigned to for a month. “Seems like he misses you a lot. I’m surprised he didn’t come with you here in Seoul.”

A sharp pang shoots through your heart as you remember Mingi’s defeated eyes as he cheered for you even though you both knew that the distance was slowly killing him from the inside. “Ah, he can’t,” you chuckled, lightly gripping Seonghwa’s elbow to lead towards a free table. “He’s got his own work, his unit in Manhattan isn’t going to pay itself.”

“Oh?” Seonghwa whistled, a smirk showing on his pretty face. “So he’s loaded, huh? I know you value your privacy a lot, but a man is rather curious…”

You giggled as you took a tentative sip of your iced coffee. “I do, but that wouldn’t mean a thing. My boyfriend’s pretty well-known in his line of work. You might even know him. Does the name Song Mingi ring a bell?”

Seonghwa took a sip of his Americano then promptly choked. He coughed, eyes widening as the name settled in his brain like a bolt of lightning. “S-Song Mingi?” He sputtered. “The Song Mingi?”

You tried to suppress a laugh, but it slipped out anyway. “Yes,” you said with a little nod, not being able to stop the proud smile that lifted the corners of your mouth. “That Song Mingi.”

“Holy shit, Y/N,” he gasped, still blinking like he’d just seen a ghost. “You’re dating him? His works are basically topping all the charts right now, it’s insane. He’s literally considered a musical genius. I mean, wow.”

You laughed again, more softly this time. “Yeah, wow. Don’t let the face fool you, he’s a massive softie.”

“And you just casually mention this over coffee like you didn’t drop a bomb on me.”

You tilted your head, swirling the straw in your cup, eyes drifting to the rain outside. “It’s not something I go around sharing. He likes the quiet, you know?”

Seonghwa nodded slowly, finally starting to regain his composure. “That’s actually kinda beautiful,” he said, quieter now. “You match him so well, you’re literally the top-runner for the promotion right now. You’ll be set for life when we all go back to the US.”

You glanced down at your phone on the table, screen still dark. No new messages. No missed calls. Just silence. The smile on your lips faltered slightly, but you tried your very best to convince yourself that maybe Mingi really was just busy.

He caught the shift in your voice, his brows gently pulling together. “Trouble in paradise?”

You hesitated for a long second. Then shook your head, eyes glassy. “No, nothing like that,” you whispered. “It’s a bit complicated. We’ve, uhm, having a little problem with the distance. He’s…not doing well without me. I’m sorry to spring this on you, Hwa.”

Seonghwa waved a hand off-handedly, brushing your apology aside.“Ah, don’t be. I get it, it’s hard, especially for the line of work that we do because we have to travel a lot. Is that why you’re pushing for the promotion?”

You nodded, not even bothering to deny what he was asking. “Yeah,” you admitted. “I can work from home, no more traveling and stuff. It gets so tiring anyway. And…I’m scared Mingi’s going to get sick of waiting for me. That one day I’ll call and he won’t pick up not because he’s busy, but because he’s done.”

It was something you didn’t like voicing out loud. You and Mingi had talked about this, that you are required to travel for your company as the secondary consultant - hopefully, lead consultant soon - and that sometimes, Mingi has to stay overnight in his studio which would mean not being able to drive down to Boston to see you for weeks at a time.

You had insecurities of your own. Mingi was always surrounded by the brightest stars of the entertainment industry and of all the people, he had chosen you, the measly company girl he had met when his company hired yours for financial consulting services, and there was always that invisible wall that Mingi always put around himself that you just couldn’t get past through.

Seonghwa took another cautious sip of his coffee, still watching you with a mix of awe and quiet curiosity. “You know,” he said after a beat, tapping his fingers against the paper cup. “I’ve actually been a fan of one of his co-workers for a while now, Kim Hongjoong.”

Your eyebrows lifted in pleasant surprise. “Really?”

Seonghwa nodded, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “He’s unreal. My brother introduced me to his music one night when he had extra tickets for his concerts and I’ve been hooked since. Anyway, Hongjoong produced Choi Jongho’s song ‘Everything’.”

Seonghwa leaned forward, voice lowering a bit. “I read somewhere that Mingi wrote the lyrics for that one. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but now,” he looked at you, eyes searching. “The timing lines up, doesn’t it? It dropped like, what, two weeks after you flew here?”

Your breath caught, just for a moment. You knew the song, of course you did, and you also knew that Hongjoong produced it because Mingi couldn’t stop talking about how much he loved the instrumentals and such but you had no idea that he wrote the lyrics for the soloist.

“I remember this one line,” Seonghwa continued, softer now, almost hesitant. “You're my everything. If only I could convey my feelings. If I could meet you once again. You were everything to me.”

He let the words hang there, his voice quiet. “That doesn’t sound made up.”

It didn’t. It wasn’t. You knew it in your bones. And just like that, a wave of guilt crashed over you, sharp and cold and heavy. Because Mingi had never said it, but he had told you. You blinked hard, suddenly blinking back something more than just surprise.

You looked down at your phone again. Now, the silence didn’t feel so empty. It felt like an echo of everything he didn’t know how to say over the phone. You grabbed it, quickly typing on it with Seonghwa’s encouraging smile across you.

‘Mingi, my beloved darling, I love you. I love you so much, okay? I know you haven’t said it back yet, but my feelings won’t change. If you miss me, I'm just a phone call away. I definitely miss you more than you know, so for my heart and for our sake, please be strong for me, but if you can’t, I have enough strength for the both of us to carry on. Don’t you worry. Don’t forget to eat your meals <3’

His thumb hovered above the screen for a long moment, his eyes downcast at the intimacy you’d sent even when he was undeserving of it. 

Here he was, weighed down by the emotional distance he's created even when your love was being offered so freely. His eyes scanned the message again, each word laced with so much tenderness it ached.

I don’t want to leave you breathless, when will you realize?

With a heavy sigh, he locked the screen, opting to ignore the message overall even if it killed him to do so. If the demons in his head get too much, maybe he’ll even go as far as turn off the phone as a whole.

I want to leave you breathless, when will you save yourself? 

How was he supposed to face you? It was like you knew exactly what he wanted to hear. He couldn’t admit that he barely slept unless he heard your voice if only in his dreams. He couldn’t let you hear how hollow he sounded over the phone, how empty he felt as he tried to find himself.

And so, back to work he did. Maybe it’ll help. If there was one thing he genuinely loved and actually looked forward to on a day to day basis it was his work, specifically his ability to be able to write and put down the emotions he can never describe and say out loud on a piece of paper.

On paper, he’s normal. In lyric writing, Song Mingi wasn’t some pathetic loser who kept pushing the love of his life away because of his inability to admit—

He frowned, his fingers lifted halfway above the keys of the audio station. Admit what? There was nothing to admit. He was completely, totally fine. Sure, he wanted you, but what kind of boyfriend didn’t want to see their significant other? He will always want you, that was something that wasn’t too difficult to fathom.

Plus, it wasn’t like you weren’t going to come back. He knew you had to come back, right? That you weren’t going to stay in Korea for too long and you were going to come back to him and, perhaps, stay in his apartment for a night or two just to spend time with him and do things like you two have always done after being separated from each other for too long because of work.

The demons in his head made him hurt much more than anytime before. Who was he kidding? Why would you come back when you had everything you needed even without him? You were beautiful, successful, independent, and just overall much better without him? Come to think of it, why were you still with him, anyway?

Was it pity? No, you weren’t like that…or were you?

He gritted his teeth, shaking his head to rid himself of all the poisonous thoughts that were starting to take root in his head? He wanted, no, needed to think of all the good things because these problems are problems he made for himself. But fuck what was he supposed to do?

Y/N loves me, she’ll be back in no time, snap out of your pity party, Song Mingi. My Y/N isn’t like that—

Well, you certainly didn’t mind leaving him on his own a month ago. On the contrary, you looked like you were quite excited. Ecstatic, even. LIke he was just a forerunning afterthought shadowing the real priorities you’d rather set your head in.

Don’t be ridiculous. She promised you, you dumb fuck. You’re pathetic. She doesn’t deserve you.

Yeah, you really didn’t deserve him. Not at all.

Right. You didn’t deserve some loser who couldn’t even last without blaming everybody but himself. But, you definitely loved him. There was no doubt about that.

But where is she and what is she doing?

Stop stop stop

Can’t. Can’t breathe. What was I doing? Music. Music? What song what where’s the file

Fuck it. Fuck it fuck it fuck it—

No. Don’t cry. You’re fine.

You’re not fine. Shut up shut. the. fuck. up.

Don’t call. Don’t call.

She’ll leave. She’ll go. She’ll realize she’s better without you.

Let her go. Let her stay. 

Let her staystaystaystaystay….

Let her go

I miss her I miss her IMISSHERMISSHERMISSHER—

“Min, you alright there, man? You look a little pale.”

He was startled into sensibility and awareness at Hongjoong’s nasally voice, almost knocking his coffee down his work station and digital headphones. He cursed internally, he would’ve lost months worth of what he’s been working on for his other client, Jung Wooyoung, for his solo ‘Sagittarius.’

“Y-Yeah, I’m just a little exhausted,” he exhaled, leaning down the adjustable mesh chair the older man had gifted him last year for his birthday so his back wouldn’t be hunched all the time while he was mixing some audios. “It’s just been a long day for me, that’s all.”

Hongjoong stares at him, analyzing his most minute expressions to determine what he was thinking. Or perhaps see and try to find out what makes him tick. He doesn’t know. 

Finally, Hongjoong stands up and Mingi watches tentatively as he slowly makes his way towards the door, turns his head left and right to see if there’s people, before closing it and putting the lock in place.

“Mingi,” he let out a soft sigh, dragging his own chair directly in front of him to sit down and talk to him face to face. “I’m not your co-producer and we are not working right now, I’m your hyung. Talk to me.”

His heart almost plummeted out of his chest. Facing Hongjoong was like standing on top of a cliff where one little gust of wind could make him free fall down to his demise. He looked down his lap, trying to stop the visceral trembling of his hands.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he sighed. “I’m just…a little burned out, I guess. I don’t know what to write.”

“Really?” Hongjoong raised a brow, the sarcasm in his voice difficult to ignore especially with how frazzled Mingi’s mind already was. “So, you wouldn’t mind if I just…”

“W-Wait, no, Joong—-”

But for naught. Mingi tried, and he really tried, to grab his laptop back from Hongjoong’s prying hands, but it was too late. The older man pushed Mingi’s hands away from the device without looking away from the file that Mingi was working on - at least that’s what he thought.

He couldn’t know. He almost had a massive mental breakdown right before his own eyes.

Hongjoong’s eyes hastily moved across the screen. Mingi bit his lip, watching Hongjoong’s face falling in slow motion the more the other read through the unfinished file. He could only imagine what was going through his friend’s mind. The Lord knows how much despair and hopelessness were drenched there through his words.

The lyrics were raw. Dark. Drenched in despair and laced with hopelessness. His breath caught in his throat.

Hongjoong looked up sharply, his eyes widening slightly. “Mingi…” he whispered, thoroughly surprised at the rawness and darkness of what he was reading. He turned the screen back towards him. “This is…wow.”

With trembling hands, he took his laptop back, his eyes dropping to read the words his heart wrote for him. The words seemed to burn themselves into Mingi’s mind, and he sat there in stunned silence, staring at them, unable to move. 

Once upon a time, everything was alright, used to feel safe, not a worry in sight

Then, I grew up and quickly realized, the world is fucked up place sometimes

Cut me up and wear my skin, show me how to live

Tear me down, clean me up

Now spill my fucking guts

Mingi stared at the floor, almost in disbelief. “I-I didn’t even know I wrote that,” his voice cracked, and his legs gave slightly beneath him as he sank back onto the couch. “I mean, I was just writing. I didn’t think…I didn’t feel like I was writing that.”

Hongjoong sat beside him, laptop set aside now, irrelevant compared to the person in front of him. “I don’t know, Min. As your superior, I’m inclined to applaud you for your lyricism, but as your hyung, I’m getting very, very concerned about your state of mind.”

Hongjoong paused, exhaling slowly. “And you smell like booze, Mingi. You need help—”

“I didn’t realize how far I’d gone into it,” Mingi muttered, frustration seeping into his voice. “I’m fine, though. I promise I only had a sip, I took an Uber here, too, j-just to be safe.”

Hongjoong didn’t say anything, opting to stare at him with those deep, unrelenting eyes of his. Mingi’s jaw clenched, like he was trying to swallow the vulnerability before it broke him completely.

After a long moment of silence, Hongjoong sighed, leaning closer. “Mingi, you need to talk to Y/N. I’ve tried for so long to not meddle with your personal life and stuff, but the things I’ve been hearing from San, I’m not very….happy about them.”

Mingi’s shoulders stiffened, his gaze snapping to Hongjoong, his expression torn. “No, Joong, please. I already have Yunho hot on my ass for this, I don’t need to hear it from you, too.”

Hongjoong didn’t back down. “Listen, Min, we’ve been friends since, what, high school? I know you more than you think I do, and I know you’re not doing well right now. In here.” 

He paused, tapping his index finger twice on his temple. “It hurts to see you like this. You’re not being fair to her, and you’re not being fair to yourself either by holding this all in.”

“I am being fair to her,” Mingi’s voice cracked, the frustration bubbling up, sharp and raw. He quickly ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm himself, but the heat of his emotions couldn’t be stopped. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“You’re right,” Hongjoong deadpanned, albeit gentler this time. “I don’t, nor do I have the desire to. But, I get it, I really fucking do, which is why…”

Mingi was caught off guard when Hongjoong grabbed the laptop back and slammed it shut before pressing multiple buttons on his workstation, realizing a little too late that Hongjoong had completely turned everything off. “You can’t do this,” his jaw dropped.

Hongjoong ignored him, opting to stand up and shut his own workstation off. “I already have. And this,” he stared pointedly at him, waving his laptop that he still hadn't given back to him. “Is staying with me. I’m laying you off for the time being, Song Mingi. I don’t want to see your sorry ass back in here unless you’ve fixed your shit.”

Mingi’s jaw subsequently reached the floor. He couldn’t believe it, he literally could not believe this was happening. Hongjoong didn’t flinch under Mingi’s glare. He stood, calm but resolute. Mingi exhaled a bitter laugh. “You really think you can manage without me?”

“I could, you know damn well I could. But, I won’t,” Hongjoong shrugged. “Hence why I’m going on a break too.”

Genuine surprise crosses Mingi’s face. “W-What?”

“I’ve needed a vacation for years, anyway. Might as well take it while I wait for you,” Hongjoong walked toward the door. “You’ll thank me eventually.”

Mingi stayed still, fists clenched at his sides, his chest rising and falling in quick bursts. “And if I don’t come back?” He asked, softer this time.

Hongjoong paused in the doorway. “You will,” he said, completely sure of himself. “You’re too hard headed not to. The pride that’s keeping you from calling Y/N is the same pride that’ll make you come back.”

And just like that, he was gone, leaving Mingi in stunned silence. His throat tightened, his fingers twitching violently against his aching temples to keep his poisonous thoughts at bay. The studio was silent - too silent.

And he was angry. He gripped the edge of the desk, staring at the spot where his laptop once was before it was taken like nothing from him. Hongjoong didn’t get it; he had basically taken his lifeline away.

That laptop was the only thing keeping Mingi tethered into reality, it was the only reason he was getting out of bed with something to do that involved not thinking about you and your absence. Just like that, it was gone.

That motherfucker. He took it, he really took it. I can’t believe it.

He let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, but it came out more like a choked sob. The sound startled him. His head dropped into his arms, breath shaky and shallow.

God, what the hell is wrong with me?

For the first time since he started working, the studio felt cold and empty. So, he started pacing. Eight steps forward. Eight back. Eight again. His brain counted even when he didn’t want it to.

Joong said I needed rest. He said I needed to go out.

A break. Break. Breaking. I’m breaking.

I’m doing it! I’m following orders! ARE YOU HAPPY?

Maybe. No. Maybe.

Shut UP. Think. Think. THINK.

I…need a drink.

He felt like he was getting torn apart at the seams and all his dreams were turning into tears. If only he could run away and try to find a safe place he could hide whenever he wasn’t feeling anything - to find that best place to be when it all fell apart.

He gritted his teeth, his head was pounding like all the preposterous thoughts contained in his head were banging on his skull begging to be let out. They were constant pounds too, ringing over and over again.

But that wasn’t it. When he opened his eyes again, finally regaining enough sense to concentrate, he quickly realized that the ringing wasn’t in his head. His phone was ringing incessantly. 

Without looking, he answered, pressing the phone to his ear. “Hello?” “Hi, baby. I-It’s me, you haven’t answered my texts lately.”

He cursed internally. Hearing your soothing voice, imagining your angelic face scrunched up in worry for someone like him while aching for your gentle touch was the worst thing that could have happened right at this moment.

He swallowed hard.  Hearing your gentle concern was the worst kind of relief. It dug under his skin with guilt.

“I’ve been quite busy, that’s all,” he replied, clipped and formal. He didn’t want to be mad at you, it wasn’t your fault, but his mind wasn’t in the best place.

You sighed, pushing the dinner you had no appetite to eat off to the side. “Mingi,” you began. “Are you alright? You sound exhausted, are you getting enough sleep?”

Silence. Your hands trembled, worried that you had pushed his buttons by asking, but you were at your end’s wits. Mingi wouldn’t want you distracted, but it was hard not to think about the man that you loved so much when you knew that he wasn’t doing well from where you’d left him on the other side of the world. 

Somehow, your concerns snapped something inside of him. His head swam, consumed by the demons that he tried so hard to fight off. “Sure,” he sneered. “If I’m alive and well, will you be there to hold my hand?”

You bit your lips, combing a frustrated hand on your hair. This was heading towards dangerous territory. Mingi was looking for a fight, you could feel it. You couldn’t even get mad at him, he was always like this when all the things he’d been holding inside of him couldn’t contain themselves anymore. 

You set the envelope you’d gotten from your company earlier. There were more pressing matters at hand. You were setting yourself up for a hurtful conversation with your boyfriend, but screw it, you haven’t talked to Mingi in a while. You’d take a fight over nothing.

“You know I would,” you replied gently, trying to remedy the situation. “I’d hold it tight.”

“Yeah, well, remember when I needed you, Y/N? I need you now. But nothing.”

There it was. All the anger he tried to hold in was beginning to surface. He knew it was wrong. You did nothing wrong. The only mistake you made was being there for him when no one else was.

And now he can’t stop. He was riddled with guilt, fueled by pain and all the self-loathing he’d harboured, but the worst part of it all was that he knew that you could sense his breaking heart.

You flinched. “Mingi—”

“No,” he bit, voice shaking with restrained rage. “Don’t ‘Mingi’ me like that. Like…l-like I’m your long-distance sob story that you pretend to feel bad for and say that you love—”

“But, I do,” you cut him off unceremoniously despite meaning not to. “I could stand all the ignored messages, but please don’t say that I don’t love you, Min. That’s not fair to me.”

Somehow, beneath all of this, he longed for you. Craved you. Like the alcohol that ran through his veins all night long.

But at the same time, he wished that you’d open up your eyes and see that he wasn’t perfect even though that’s what he was trying to be because he knew that you were worth it.

Alas, these new demons were changing him inside. Pushing and pulling. He can't hold you any longer in the hell he was in.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, eyes burning. “Don’t speak that way,” you spoke, your voice cracking from all the weight. “I promised, we both promised that what we have going was worth it.”

He’d given you the chance to step back and you didn’t take it. “I don’t know what’s worth fighting for anymore,” his words cracked like thunder. A breath. Then another. “You don’t understand, do you? Or do you just don’t pretend to understand?”

You didn’t hang up. You stayed, even as the silence weighed down the line like dead air, even when the words he’s about to utter were pure, utter bullshit fueled by his need to lash out at the nearest thing he had on hand.

“I’m broken, angry, and bitter. The emptiest piece of shit there is out there, Y/N. But, I bet you like that, don’t you?” He laughed sarcastically. “You like this, you like broken people.”

You tried to breathe, but your lungs wouldn’t cooperate. You didn’t say anything, didn’t interrupt. You knew he needed this, that this was the storm that he’s been holding onto that’s bursting out the seams.

“I don’t need you,” he hissed. “I don’t want your pity, I don’t want your love—”

“Mingi, stop,” you whispered. “You need space, I know you don’t mean the things you’re telling me right now.”

“And how the fuck would you know that?” Mingi snapped, jumping out of his chair in a sudden burst of anger he didn’t know he had. He wasn’t done; not even close.

You haven’t even hung up yet, that was the worst thing. He noticed that, of course he did, and even so, the venom that hung on his tongue still trickled slowly and steadily, drip by poisonous drip.

“Why are you still here, anyway?” He asked bitterly, not knowing what else to say. “Your heart is usually too weak for me to break, don’t start pretending otherwise now.”

“Because I love you,” you whispered weakly, hoping it would get through him.

“Then you’re an idiot,” he seethed. “Maybe this distance is good for us. I should’ve never told you I loved you so you could stay there and find someone better than me.”

You gasped silently, feeling like he’d punched all the air out of your lungs. Your silence wrapped around him like a noose. By the time Mingi realized what he’d said, it was already too late. When paper is crumpled up, it cannot be perfect again.

“I-I didn’t mean that,” he stuttered out, shame and revulsion oozing out of him like water leaking out of a faulty faucet. “My love, p-please, fuck, I didn’t mean that—I can’t stop, I am so sorry, I didn’t mean that—”

He gripped the phone tighter like it was the only thing tethering him to the ground. He was already crying, but so were you. You knew that he didn’t mean all the things he just told you, but it still hurt to hear it directly from him. 

Your entire world was spinning. You crumpled all the way down to the floor, your hand covering your mouth to prevent your sobs from spilling out, your tears soaking your entire face. He had your heart in his hand and you felt him squeezing it all the way from the other side of the world.

Your quiet sniffles broke Mingi’s heart. Your call should’ve been his salvation, but instead, it was like he stood up just to fall all the way back down to the hole he dug for himself. He opened his mouth to scream, but nothing came out. Just the nonsense he’d uttered just to hear any sound.

It wouldn’t have mattered that nobody was around to see it, he wished nothing more than anything in the world to hit rock bottom just to feel solid ground if he could turn back time and take back all the things he said.

“I don’t know why I said those, you have to believe me,” he choked up, putting his palm on his chest to stunt the growing pain from within. “I-I don’t know why I say things that I don’t mean—”

He paused, his broken exhales filling your ears as you wiped your tears away. “---fuck,” he whimpered, not bothering to wipe the pitiful tears that covered his entire face. “I don’t know how I got this way, I’m a pathetic fuck-up who always hurts you—”

“It’ll be alright, Min,” you sniffled, not bothering to deny his claims about himself. 

“No,” he denied. There was a beat of silence between the two of you before Mingi’s cracked, broken voice uttered out, “I’ll never be alright. Put me out of my fucking misery.”

You sat in stunned silence, crying but rooted. “Mingi,” you spoke out in surprise.

He sobbed. Wailing, broken, like a maimed animal that had been wounded and weakened enough to give up trying to stay alive. The sound of it might as well carve a massive hole in your chest using a small spoon until it reached your hurting heart.

“I don’t know who I am anymore,” he exhaled tiredly, his breathing hard and fast all of a sudden. “I wish you’d save yourself for a man with a conscience.”

He broke again, and this time, he wasn’t sure if even you could rebuild him back. “Save yourself for a man that isn’t me.”

Three years of torment and torturous love where all he did was make you doubt about his feelings for you, stained with multiple days of tears and heavy mistrust. Enough was enough.

He closed his eyes, pressing a trembling hand against his forehead as the weight of everything that happened yesterday fully sunk into his head. He had hung up immediately, not bothering to hear what you had to say afterwards.

It was wrong, but in reality, he was scared - terrified - that you were going to break it off from him on the spot because of the things he had said. Not that he’d blame you if he did, hell, he’d leave him, too, if he was in a relationship with himself.

It was unfair, ironic, on your end. The goal was for you to hate him enough so you could leave him, yourself, because Yunho was right - he was a fucking coward. He loved you too much to do it himself, but what was he doing to you? You deserved better than him.

“Fuck,” he mumbled incoherently, taking a huge swig of the first liquor he swiped from his cupboard. It was cognac, he reckoned, but at this point, he doesn’t know anymore nor did he really care. He just wanted to drown in his misery once more.

Mingi now alone, drinking himself into a numb haze, feeling the aftershock of everything he said to you. Guilt starts to sink its claws deep as he spirals again, but this time it’s quieter. He hasn’t slept since last night, not being able to when all he could hear was your sniffles every time he closed his eyes.

Mingi sat on the floor, back against the wall, head leaning back as he stared blankly at the ceiling like it owed him something. There was an empty glass on the floor next to him. Somewhere in the haze, he remembered pouring it, then ditching it. The liquor tasted better straight from the bottle.

He remembered it like yesterday. Memories of how he saw you for the first time began playing in his head like an old movie film.

God, you were beautiful. Like a ray of sunshine in his infinitely colorless world. You reminded him of the prettiest flower in a bed of soil that stood strongly still after it had rained hard. He didn’t want to pluck you out, flowers were meant to stay rooted to the ground where they would flourish, but he did anyway.

He realized after that maybe Mingi was the flower. A sunflower, to be specific, and you were the sun. Wherever you were and wherever you went, he would always turn to you, ready and happy just to gaze upon you and it would give him all the energy to keep going like you were his lifeline. 

In hindsight, you were. You still are. And he was proud of you. So, so proud. He had watched you over the years bloom into the woman you were and he couldn’t be prouder to be the one to witness it up close. He felt blessed to be the person you chose to be with you out of everyone.

He didn’t interfere, no, he had no problem being behind you to catch you if you fell or just be nearby just in case you needed him for something, supporting you in every little thing you wanted to do for yourself. All he wanted was for your utmost happiness.

He took another drink. You deserved better than this. You deserved better than the self-pitying, broken man Mingi was. He knew that now. He always had. His lips trembled, exhaling a broken sigh. He ruined everything. For the first time ever since you left, he meant it.

His eyes scanned the scattered mess of his apartment. There were random papers, clothes, empty cans, the faint scent of something burning in the kitchen from earlier that he’d ignored. All of it screamed collapse and demise. 

He was slowly starting to accept that this was the beginning of the end when his gaze happened to land on one corner of his room. At first, he didn’t know what he was looking at, he had to squint his eyes shut just to get a clearer look, but shivers ran their course on his arms when he realized what he was looking at.

It was a photo of you and him at your first anniversary. It was the only thing not ruined in all the destruction that laid all over him. You were smiling brightly at the camera and Mingi wasn’t even looking. Instead, he was staring at you, the love in his eyes visible even in his slightly drunken state from where he was slumped.

His lips quirked slightly on the sides. He remembered Jongho snapping that photo of the both of you while you were in mid-laughter at something the latter had said behind the camera. It was a joke, nobody could ever believe that you had fallen for the fool that was Song Mingi.

You were definitely out of his league. You were beautiful, successful, the kindest soul he had ever met. You were young at heart, loved the colour pink, had a soft spot for animals, confused  your left and right sometimes, wiggled your nose when you saw something fascinating, thoughtful for everybody around you, even strangers. You were just you.

His vision started to blur as tears filled his sights. He remembered the way you’d sounded, shaking and trying not to fall apart. He remembered the way he had sounded - cold, cruel, vicious. All because of his pride.

All of the mistakes that he’d made and you were still there. You had always had so much love in you and every moment he had spent shoving you away like you were nothing to him when all you wanted to show him how much you loved him…

Desperate, he mustered all the energy he had left to crawl towards the picture frame, not caring and shoving all the mess around him just to hold it so he could feel if it was real or not. When he finally did, he stared at your face for another second longer before droplets of tears fell on the frame.

He wiped it off with his palm, but his tears just kept coming. Finally, he’d understood the damage. He felt it, all of it, as all the words he’d said echoed around the empty room.

Mingi wasn’t the only one who had to suffer in your absence. You were on the other side of the world, all alone while you cried yourself to sleep because you missed him. 

He had to watch you leave, but you were the one who had to muster up the strength to walk away from him.

He lashed out on you to make himself feel better, but you had to stay on the line as he destroyed you with his words all because you loved him.

Oh, love, what have I done to you?

What had he done in return? He ruined everything. He had broken you all because he hated himself.

He hugged the picture frame to his chest tightly, soothing himself by rocking back and forth, cradling the frame safely towards him as clarity started to hit him. Whereas his heart was still in the midst of chaos, his mind had enough stillness for the clarity to slowly kick him.

Truth was, he was slowly killing himself and he knew it, but he was done lying to himself. This wasn’t living, and even if it was, it’s inside a hollow shell. He was a fraction of the man who promised to make you happy and he’d let you down.

He stared at all the empty bottles that were scattered all over his living room. Shame started to crawl from beneath him. His stomach bled, but still, he drank. The hole inside him slowly became more than a metaphor and it was all his fault.

I guess a bottle couldn’t tame my mind, after all.

He was a fool. He was never a mad drunk, never even drank unless it was for a special occasion. He doesn’t know where he went wrong and this was his reward - a barely beating heart.

With that, he quickly stood up. It was a terrible idea, nausea automatically creeps up his head and he could feel bile rising from his throat, but nothing was going to stop him from grabbing his phone even if he did trip over and over again as he crossed the distance just to grab his phone and call you.

The moment he dialed your number, the fog in his head began to fade. He mindlessly began to bite on his nails, wondering if you were going to ignore him. 

Not that he’d blame you, never, but the anxiety was beginning to claw its way from the depths of him all the way up his tongue. He was scared - scared that the anxiety coating his tongue will make him say all the wrong things once more.

C’mon, love, please pick up, please…

I get it now, substance therapy never set me free.

substance therapy

never

set me

free—

“Hello?”

Mingi could’ve cried. Maybe he already was. The sound of your voice threatened to bring out a sob deep from within his chest. He bit his knuckles to stop his whimpers, but little did he know that you had to use both of your hands to cover your mouth to muffle your own sobs.

“Y/N,” he exhaled, his relief palpable to you on the other line. “A-Are you busy? I hope I didn’t wake you up or disturb you…”

Mingi cringed internally. Because of his blunder, now he doesn't know how to properly talk to you. But he was going to suck it up because he didn’t want to lose you. Not like this.

“You didn’t,” you croaked, trying to clear your throat subtly, but to no avail. His heart broke at the sound of your rough voice, the voice he knew that sounded like you had just cried all night and it was because of him. “I-It’s my day off today. What’s going on? You don’t sound well…”

He wanted to laugh, and then hit himself square in the face. After all he’s said to you, after all the times he had blatantly ignored you, and after all the times he threw all the love you gave him freely right back at your face, you were still over there worried about his well-being. 

He couldn’t hold back anymore. Mingi slumped straight down to the floor, his lips quivering pitifully as he let his sobs free. “I’m sorry,” he cried. “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry, I didn’t mean any of it, I swear, I didn’t mean any of it.”

Silence. You didn’t interrupt. You couldn’t. His voice came in ragged, gasping waves, urgent, like every second without your forgiveness was drowning him. You clenched your fists tight, reeling in the urge to raise them in the air to pretend that you were touching Mingi instead of nothing.

“I thought I could handle the distance,” he continued, voice barely holding together. It was now or never. “I told myself I’d be fine. But I’m not okay, Y/N. I’ve been breaking ever since the second you left.”

His voice cracked like glass. He let out a shaky, pitiful cry that could’ve broken his entire world. But you were his world. He had long broken you. Broken him who broke you. But not anymore. No more.

“T-The truth is,” he swallowed enough to clear his throat to say the things he never, ever wanted to say out loud before. “The truth is that I miss you. I miss you so, so much that I thought I was going to lose my mind. I still miss you, I will always miss you.”

He broke down again, full-on wailing, not caring how pathetic he sounded. “I couldn’t admit it because it made me feel weak, and I didn’t want to be the one falling apart just because you weren’t here to hold me. I refused because if they weren’t you, then I’d rather rot and waste away.”

You were crying with him now. Quiet, trembling tears that shook your entire being. Might as well cut your heart into little pieces. You wiped your eyes, your heart clenching because never have you ever felt this helpless with not being able to do anything to make Mingi feel better. You weren’t even this heartbroken when you turned your back to him at the airport to leave.

“I deserve nothing,” he hiccupped. “But I’m calling anyway. Because I need you to know that I miss you. I miss you so much it hurts and I can’t breathe.”

Mingi had always been sensitive at heart and you accepted him. Loved him. It wasn’t difficult, Mingi was the most loveable man you had ever met. If you didn’t love him yet, you were going to fall for him anyway, and no matter what has been or done, you still couldn’t help but feel for him, flaws and all.

Oh, you wished you could close your eyes and be by his side when you open them again.

“I can’t believe you’d say that,” he muttered in disbelief in between his cries. “I can’t believe that you can’t see that you deserve so much better than what I’ve been doing to you.”

You frowned, confused, before you realized that you must’ve spoken your thoughts out loud. “Because I love you, it’s as simple as that,” you answered. “If you loved me, then you’d give me the liberty to choose what to feel for myself, Mingi. And I choose to love you wholeheartedly despite everything.”

Mingi closed his eyes, tramping down the fuzzy feeling in his chest. “You loved me for all the wrong reasons,” he said. “What’s killing me, is that I’m killing you.”

“That may be so,” you counteracted, refusing to let him drown in his insecurities the best you could. “But my feelings won’t fade that easily.”

“I’m not the same as I used to be. I would be torture to be with. I-I’ve been drinking a lot to cope, love. There's nothing but pain left, I-I need help. I don't know about you, but I'm admitting now that I have a problem.”

“Then you’d be the sweetest torture,” you declared without any ounce of doubt from the bottom of your heart, hoping he could hear it. “I’ll help you, okay? We’re in this together. I will give you everything I have to give as proof that you are deserving of all the love and help I have to offer.”

He dropped the phone for a second, just so he could clutch his face in both hands. The sounds that came out of him weren't words anymore. They were raw, wordless pleas of wet, guttural sobs pulled from somewhere buried under months of restraint.

“I don’t want to be without you anymore,” he whispered. “Please. Please come back. Or let me come to you. Oh fuck, please don’t hang up. Please.”

You shushed him, lulled him with comfort to the best of your abilities given the distance and with your voice the only thing that you know was keeping your boyfriend together. “Shh, I’m not hanging up, baby. I’m not leaving you. Not now, not ever, okay? Please, believe me.”

“I know I don’t deserve you,” he sniffled.

“But I still love you,” you said. “Hang on tight, okay? I’m coming home soon.”

“N-No,” he stammered, panic hitting him for a moment. “I’ll be fine, I’m going to stay at Yunho’s so I could seek some help for myself—”

“No, Mingi, I need to. I, uhm, I need to move out of my place,” you cleared your throat, a small smile overcoming your face as you stared out your window, hoping that Mingi was looking at the sky right now like you were. “My lease is up, I can’t afford to live there anymore.”

He was quiet for a second. “A-Are you okay?” Mingi asked, voice cautious, suddenly feeling extra awful because he was selfish enough to not know you were having issues of your own.

“I mean, I’ve been living off of caffeine a lot because of the multiple projects and deadlines that I have to meet,” you let out a tired laugh. “It’s alright, I was thinking of shifting cities anyway.”

Mingi nodded, taking in the information even though you can’t see him anyway. It felt like something was amiss, but he was determined to be good for you now and just listen just in case you needed him for something. “Do you already have a place in mind, love?”

Your smile widens significantly. “Yeah. Actually, I’ll be in Manhattan. Ready to go the moment I land back.”

“Wait,” his tone changed into something sharper, his heart thudding steadily in his chest. “Why Manhattan?”

“Because that’s where the job is. I got it,” you said, finally letting the words fall with all the quiet joy. “I got the promotion, Mingi. I got a call before you called me this morning, that’s why I have a day off.”

“You what?” Mingi yelled, followed by the distinct sound of something crashing, maybe his phone dropping, maybe him kicking something in excitement. “Oh my God, love, you got it! You really got it, I’m so fucking proud of you, oh my God.”

You were full-on giggling now, Mingi’s contagious excitement fully getting to you now that you’ve said what you’ve been dying to tell him. You wiped your cheeks, tears of relief and laughter mixing. That only left one thing. 

He was laughing now too, that deep, warm sound that felt like home. “So wait,” he said, catching his breath. “You’re moving to Manhattan where I live, and you need to move out—hold on.”

You didn’t say anything, covering your mouth in excitement as you kicked your feet up in the air like a little schoolgirl as you waited for Mingi to catch on. You let out a small squeal when he gasped, the information finally clicking with him.

“Oh my God,” he breathed. “Are you asking if you want to move in with me?”

A slow smile stretched across your face. “Well,” you said, “I was thinking I could use a roommate who already knows how I like my coffee—”

“Yes,” he blurted out before you could even finish talking. “I mean, yes. Oh, God, love, please move in with me, I’d love nothing more than to finally wake up next to you like I’ve always wanted to.”

“Mingi,” you swooned, your breath getting caught in your throat as your cheeks burned at his casual admission. 

“You’re coming home to me, you really are,” his voice was softer now, reverent. “I wonder, love, if you could finally feel an ounce of the way I feel for you. And since you're the best thing to ever happen to me, I wonder if you could give me the chance to try to be the best thing that ever happened to you, too.”

“Well, we have the rest of our days to make that happen, Mingi,” you replied, breathless, not knowing what else to say with his confession of love. “I was thinking of resting, wanna take a nap with me?”

“Stay with me on the phone? We’ll nap together.”

You hummed in confirmation, and the silence that followed was warm with the first drop of peace he’d felt in months. 

He was still crying, still broken. But now, the joy and the happiness of having you overturned every shadow. For the first time in forever, he wasn’t alone anymore.

Dividers by : @khaer Like my work? Click here to view my previous story.

[shikai-the-storyteller]

This past week and a half has literally just been me @ me like "Maybe if you sit down and watch Pluto for a while you'll calm down."

[tiramissyoucake]

I would LOVE to see a fic based on your different roles thingy with the variants, especially the pastry chef and idol one! <3

THANK YOU THANK YOU IVE BEEN WAITING RAAAAAAH HERE ARE 2 SNIPPETS not as good as I hoped but I hope ya'll like it

Based on this

Full-Mask Invincible:

"Is that all, then?" You were sweeter than the desserts in the display case, Mark nodded his head absentmindedly, a light pink dusting his cheeks with a dopey smile, he should say something.

"Yeah.. hey— uh, I... really love the cupcakes you make, I was never a big 'dessert' guy, but yours?" He made a chef's kiss gesture prompting a small laugh from you, embarrassing but effective. "Can't go a day without 'em."

Your smile was adorable as your hard work was praised. "Thank you! I usually have to make them really early and then put them here myself," you explained while gesturing to the kitchen doors in the back then the case infront of you. "Helps that I open before lunch rush."

He nodded in acknowledgment as he tugged out the sum for his dessert's cost from his wallet. "Smart! I'd gladly trample over a few businessmen to get the last few cookies." His joke invoked another laugh, damn. He was on fire today.

As you carefully wrapped up the box and placed it in a paper bag, you caught a glimpse of the cake pops you kept near the register. "Here, two cake pops, on the house!"

His eyebrows went up at that, his mom loved those. "Wait, are you sure? C'mon, you gotta let me pay—"

"I insist! Consider it thanks for supporting local businesses!" God, your smile, your tone. He was ready to melt into a puddle then and there.

. . .

Seeing you again, in a world that wasn't his shook him to his core, he remembers the catastrophe your bakery went through; an explosion. Someone tried to take something away from him and they killed you. baked goods that never got displayed or even tasted, you were crushed under the rubble.

His body moved before his mind could send any commands, shooting straight for you through the clouds, buildings and whatever running civilians remained, his arms clamping down around you.

"It's you— you're alive- I can't believe you're-" his rambling went on as he let out a sigh of relief, your fear and shaking hands unknown to him. "Mark?! What're you doing here?!"

"What do you mean? I'm here for you!" He pulled back, his face fully obscured save for the goggles, you could barely see tears behind the translucent material. "God— you're just as beautiful as you were in my world, come here, it's not safe—"

You snatched your hand back harshly, looking at him with an angered expression. "You're one of them!" You announced, wary. "The psychos running around in Invincible costumes!"

His heart dropped, you never looked at him like that— you were always sweet, soft. As soft as the desserts you made were chewy and sugary.

"(Name), please, don't be scared." He coaxed, his hands opening to you. "Come with me, I'll explain everything if you just co-"

"No! I'm not going anywhere with any of you!" Your rejection stung, sure, he wasn't 'YOUR' Mark, but he was Mark. Was that not enough?

A frustration filled his veins quickly as he grabbed your wrist harshly, tugging you close and ignoring your noises of protest as you came in contact with his chest. "You're scared, I get it." His arm came back around your waist, holding you close. "But I'm not leaving you, not like last time."

"I'll never let you out of my sight ever again."

♡

No-goggles Invincible:

Mark never saw a person as blinding as you are, God, every album you release, you manage to become sparklier. And he would know because he's been following you for a while.

He abused his power to see you worldwide, meet 'n greet in France? Boom, first in line. Exclusive merch release with your album in Japan? He bought the first copy. Concert in Australia? No ticket needed when you're a super-powered alien.

He couldn't believe he was shaking your hand, his newly bought album on the table. "You're even prettier in person!" He grinned, your kind smile making his heart race. "I've been watching you for a while, y'know? Since your Heartthrob Cutie Era!"

"Whaaat?! Really?! That's so long ago! Thank you for your support!" He could die here and he'd be happy, you looked adorable in your newest era outfit, the theme was filled with candy, bright colors, swirls and bows, he could eat you up.

"Thanks for coming by the way! Who do I make this out to?" You held the sharpie in your hand, ready to sign as he restrained himself from telling you to just write that you love him.

"I wouldn't miss this for the end of the world." Mark sighed, glancing down at the album. "Mark, with a K, Grayson."

"To.. my... long-time fan, Mark Grayson!" You signed with practised finesse, his name written with a heart and a parasocial slogan of 'Thanks for the love!♡'

He wasn't getting a wink of sleep after getting home.

. . .

During the time where Invincible work drowned him, he fell behind in supporting you. Missed out on a few albums releases and exclusive releases, the obsession became more casual.

Though the memory of your beaming smile and warm greeting rushed back to him as he spotted you, not as shiny but still you, trying to sneak through the rubble, evacuating too late. He slowly hovered down to the ground behind you, eyes wide as a smile slowly stretched across his features.

"Holy. Shit." Crude, but what else would he say? It's his idol! You turned sharply with a gasp. "It's you! They got a version of you here too?!"

You furrowed your eyebrows, frozen like a deer in headlights as this 'Mark' studied you, no goggles to hide his wandering eyes from taking in your entire form, he noted confusion.

"... hello? You forget your own career?" He did a gesture that was too cute for someone who was tearing apart the town and its civilians to be doing "'I'll steal all your hearts and more!', c'mon! That's you! Your whole... y'know, bit!"

You shook your head, cringing as he facepalmed. "Whatever, you're probably delirious. Amnesia or panic or whatever." He gestured for you to follow him, taking two steps away before hearing receding hurried ones, his head zipping around to see you trying to run.

"Hey! HEY! WHERE THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING?!" His foot pushed off the ground, flying in an instant to you and tackling you to the ground.

"Yeah! No dumbass bodyguards to keep you away from me, now!" He laughed breathlessly, excited to finally have you to himself, no security or anything to restrain him from talking to you too long.

"Let go!! Get off me!!" Your shouts were ignored as you clawed and shoved at him, palm connecting with his cheek and pushing him away he resisted and leaned closer to you.

"Ooh, fiesty thing! You're so cute!" He laughed as he bit into your palm, eliciting a scream from you as you harshly pulled your hand back. "I ruined this town enough, the others won't mind if I fuck around with you for a little."

"C'mere, why don't you give me one of your cute little poses?"

[obeymeluv]

How You Spend the Night Together [Riddle, Leona]

Featuring: Leona, Riddle

Romantic, fluffy blurbs. I know I have other stuff to put out but this just came easier.

I do want to note that I have an ask/fic request from a real user but that'll take more time to research/think/put out so I'm not super sure on a timeline for that yet. Just want to acknowledge that I've seen it. Might answer that one privately.

Had to cut Vil because I have to go to bed early (work in the morning). Leona's was supposed to be fluffy but I'm kind of feeling him out still. Let me know what you think.

As much as he must follow rules, he is also at the mercy of his own habits. Riddle insisted you freshen up in his private bath (perks of being a Housewarden) while he prepped his uniform for tomorrow. It seemed a little unusual--maybe a little creepy--but he had such a scheduled existence that it's comforting. He's pressing down lapels and analyzing the cuffs for lint and stray threads when he hears you humming in the bathroom. Riddle's careful to keep his back to the door, as you have it cracked instead of closed, but he would be lying if he said he hadn't thought about peeking.

Only natural, right? He could never forsake the gift of your friendship, or how it had unexpectedly become more. You were the first unplanned, unscheduled thing in his life and you were wonderful.

Quite the gift.

Much like how Heartslabyul was surely a gift from the Sevens compared to Ramshackle. He didn't think Ace and Deuce would lie about the lack of hot water and such.

Riddle moves to his undershirt, ironing board waiting patiently just in front of the mannequin where the pieces of his uniform come together. He sets it up and begins smoothing it over the shirt. A small smile twists his lips as he hears the water drain. You'd scrimped and saved for some bath products and he's secretly delighted that you smell like strawberry.

He can smell it wafting gently into the room, riding on a kiss of heat.

Ooh he could just--

"You're fixing to burn your shirt," you smother a laugh into the towel, shutting the door to change. Riddle squawks, turning off the heat and flapping the shirt out to save it. Good, no burns, he sighs. You come out in a black and red ensemble and he's touched with pride because he bought those.

Those are his colors on you. And you look lovely.

"Ready for bed?" you watch him put the undershirt on the mannequin, button the vest, and hang the coat. The hanger holding the bottom half of his uniform is hooked on the hollow neck.

"After a small stretch, my rose." Riddle goes into some light stretches, pausing midway towards the ground, bent at the hip, when he realizes you'd already fluffed the pillows and pulled the comforter back.

Something shy and warm flutters in him. It's all very cozy. Riddle muffles a laugh with his arm as he grabs his elbow and leans to the right. You've decided to skip the stretches and root around for the comfiest spot in the bed.

Darling, really.

Satisfied but peering at him curiously, almost calling him, you wait for him. Riddle kisses your forehead as he slides in next to you. "Goodnight, my rose."

"Goodnight, Riddle."

-----

Malleus would usually send a few fireflies into your room or have them blink against the window so you weren't sure who was knocking. It could be Ace or Deuce but they'd give you a heads up at NRC if they were being kicked out for the night. Suspicious, you grabbed a broom from the kitchen on your way to the front door. It wasn't the best plan to swing the door wide open and jab but what were you going to do?

"Really, Herbivore?" Leona scoffs at you, broom handle in an impressive grip. He's got one hand in his pocket, broom handle pointed firmly over his left shoulder. You try to tug it back subconsciously but he doesn't relent, the leather of his glove squeaking around the wood.

"What did you expect me to do?" you ask in the small voice that stirs something in him. He could see your brow wiggle in that 'give me some credit, I'm trying!' way.

It's tough trying to be mean when you're meant to be soft, isn't it?

Soft and his.

"To remember I was coming over to get you, at least." Leona moves past you to jam the broom back in the first corner of the kitchen he laid eyes on. You barely hold back a sneeze as his tail flicks up under your nose when he passes.

"You were being serious?" you lock the door back and follow him into the kitchen. His ear flicks so you know he heard you. Leona was a beastman full of surprises that you were slowly unwrapping as he let you. Behind his lazy facade was a literal genius and someone very interested in infrastructure and architecture. He's giving Ramshackle the side-eye and identifying weak points at the same time.

"Yep," Leona turns away from his assessing and scoops you up, putting you over his shoulder. You give a surprised yelp but he pays no mind, free hand stuffed in his pocket as he climbs the stairs effortlessly. You're comforted by the firm, corded muscle keeping you balanced on his shoulder. "I told you I was going to."

Crewel would often slide you a handful of thaumarks for 'on-site maintenance and collection' of potion ingredients after seeing Sam pay you in similar fashion for the shop and not get any flack from Crowley (not that he paid enough attention to you, in his opinion). While picking different things and updating your 'tips and tricks' notebook, you'd disturbed Leona.

Easy to do.

You were basically done and literally shushed him when he started to complain, saying it was his own fault for staying awake when he could be rolling over and going to sleep. Leona was mildly offended and intrigued. You had a mouth on you, didn't you?

Sometimes he hated that you were pretty, smart, funny, and self-sufficient. How was he supposed to make himself useful? It was hard enough since all of his reflexes revolved around him being a sarcastic ass. "Instead of shushing me, you should listen to my offer." he looked up at you with one eye, the other smashed closed since his face was pressed into his hand.

"Oh? Go on then," you gestured to him, one hand on your hip.

"I give you the money in my wallet and you let me nap. Keep an eye out so no one wakes me up again." he yawned.

That sounded easy and Leona wasn't the type to leave you empty-handed because you WOULD show up and royally screw with his sleep. He knew this, you knew this. "I'll bite. I could use the break," you sighed, flopping down beside him.

Leona was out in less than five minutes but he moved in his sleep. He rolled, growled--all kinds of things! You were surprised to find he wasn't a loud snorer. His hands were very active, often digging in the soil or scratching lines in it and you wondered if he was hunting in his sleep. Maybe fighting or wrestling some meat off of something. With a snort and muddled roar, he rolled over and plonked his head in your lap.

It scared you and you froze.

It was the first time you'd seen him up close, his tanned skin complimented by the rich chocolate of his hair. You'd never noticed the tiny braids scattered throughout, just the bigger one at the side. He had beads and tiny things woven into his hair. They must be from the Sunset Savanna, you thought, pulling the tail of a braid away from the corner of his mouth. His mouth curled in a snarl, relaxing as he snuggled down in your lap.

Your alarm went off twenty minutes later. Leona sat up, his eyes bleary with sleep, and leaned forward just enough to fish his wallet out of his pocket. "Don't look too much into it," Leona was suddenly looking away at anything and everything in the garden, "but that was a good nap. I'd pay for another one later tonight."

Was he blushing?

Your back hit your bed, snapping you out of your thoughts. The money he'd slapped into your hand--A LOT!--was still on your dresser from where you'd emptied your pockets and changed into pajamas. Leona did his best to slide into your bed smoothly but, to be frank, the sheets were shit.

Kind of scratchy. His eyes had already adjusted to the dark and he was pretty sure he saw stitches where you or the ghosts had patched up some holes.

"You don't have to pay people to love you, you know." you tell him quietly. There's uncertainty in your voice, like you didn't know if you should say it. "You do have things people admire, Leona. And it's not the money."

He didn't want to think about that right now. It was nice to hear it though. You had no idea how precious, how rare, you were. A little hidden gem in this sad excuse of a dorm.

"I'm a man of my word, Herbivore." Leona realizes your eyes are still adjusting to the darkness when you try to figure out where he's at and accidentally brush against his right ear. You've got a stunned gentleness about you as you feel your way around his ear, tracing the shape and rubbing circles into the fur cautiously. He inhales the smell of your warm skin against him, tempted to skim his teeth over the soft spot on the inside of your elbow. "Now gimme my nap." Leona pushes his head against your throat until you've settled on your back.

He settles over you like a warm blanket. Leona smells faintly of musk, sun, sandalwood, and something that reminds you of cinnamon. "You gonna sleep in your clothes?" you laugh and it tickles his ears.

"I'll pay you an extra fifty thaumarks to shut it." he yawns. You flick his ear. "Please." he adds.

"Only if you buy me breakfast in the morning." you joke.

I'd buy it forever, Leona snorts and shushes you.

"Get some rest, Leona."

He knew his sleep wouldn't be as deep as when he was in the garden. He'd never slept in Ramshackle and he had to learn the sounds. Keep an ear out to make sure your territory was safe. It wouldn't be the most restful sleep, but it would be the most cherished.

[littlelovelunette]

reader begging sevika to put a baby in them...

Shimmer And Silence G!P

Contains smut, breeding, biting, nipple play, impregnation, mentions of drug and addiction, blowjob

Sevika has always been hard headed and never gave into your desires too quickly but she never understood if it was for the best or not.

Shimmer often made her cranky and violent from time to time and being her wife, you didn't like that she made herself get high on the drug so damn often due to her loyalty and work for Silco.

It hurt, because despite wanting to settle down badly you could barely even imagine bringing the topic up to her because what if she didn't approve of your needs and had a Shimmer crashout.

Sighing to yourself, you made the bed as usual and got to doing the chores. You were used to your housewife routine by now.

You'd work at home and ensure she had a clean and cozy place to come back and rest, by the time she's done fighting for Zaun for the day.

You'd approach the topic again today and try to get her to understand that you wanted to settle down.

It had been 5 years you both were married together after all and in all honesty, whether Zaun got free or not life wouldn't pause so you both could settle and find happiness within the battles.

You finished all your work and took a shower, it was evening by then. Sevika was probably gambling after work, she'd be back soon. Maybe drunk, maybe not.

You put on one of your lacy white panties and the matching bra you bought along with it, slipping on one oversized t-shirt over the underwear, you didn't feel like wearing anything else for now.

The door opened and Sevika walked inside, “I'm home,” she called lazily, she didn't go to Last Drop which was a little strange.

Maybe she was just tired.

“Hi, baby,” you smiled and helped her take her poncho off, she walked to the bedroom after giving you a brief kiss, getting out of her clothes.

She laid down and you went over to her, sitting down beside her, “Baby, there was something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Sevika gave you a little nod to acknowledge your words and gesture that she was listening.

“I think we should start trying for kids.”

The silence sunk in the air around both of you. “Did you just say what I think you just said? Or am I mishearing things already?” Sevika asked, her tone a little condescending.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and responded, “I just feel that if we don't, y'know, I'm not getting any younger… I might not be able to even have children. We don't know what the future holds for us,” you placed one hand over her bigger one, rubbing your thumb over the calloused skin, “The battle won't pause so we can have children, please, this is the one thing I really want.”

Sevika stared at you for a while before sighing, shaking her head. “I don't think this is a good idea.”

Exasperated, you shifted so you were now on her lap, “Baby, please,” you said, cupping her face in both your hands as you sighed a little feeling her bulge against your clothed heat.

“You're a tease, y'know that?” Sevika slapped your ass, grabbing the lump of flesh and squeezing, “Fine, I'll give it some thought.”

“No, you always say that and then your mind changes,” you moved a little so her growing bulge could rub against the soaked spot on your panties.

“Just say it, you get off on the thought of me breeding you,” Sevika whispered in your ear, instantly catching you off guard. She grabbed you by your frame and shoved you down on the bed.

“Look, you even dressed up all pretty tonight,” Sevika smirked, raising the hem of the shirt to check out the underwear you had on.

“I just, I thought maybe there'd be a possibility,” you said, face growing hotter with the second.

Sevika tsked, “Bullshit, I bet you're so wet by the thought of me filling you up, filthy little whore having semen dripping from your holes because you can't even hold all of my load inside.”

Sevika's rough, thick fingers rubbed over your pussy, as if readying it for her massive cock. She pulled her pants down just enough for her cock to slap up against her stomach, precum dripping from the tip of her impressively massive shaft.

“Oh my…” you couldn't help reaching forward and grabbing her shaft carefully in your hands.

Sevika placed a hand over her hip, the mechanical arm holding you in place as you started sucking on the tip of her cock.

“Want me to suck you off?” You asked, looking up at her with those pretty puppy eyes and she nodded, guiding your head as you deepthroated her cock with years of experience.

Sevika gasped, fingers entangling themselves in your hair as you sucked her harder. You had to hold on to each side of her muscular thighs to steady yourself as you bobbed your head, the head of her cock slamming into the back of your throat every now and then making you gag and saliva messily ran down your chin giving you a further lewd expression.

Sevika, on the other hand, was having the time of her life. She used your head roughly to get herself off, shooting ropes of cum in your throat, forcing you to swallow it down.

Sevika smirked down at you as you pulled back, catching your breath from the ordeal and then she gestured to you to get on the bed. As you laid down, she undressed you, taking your shirt off, unhooking your bra and lastly pulling your panties down your legs. Sevika was being extra slow just for the sole reason of riling you up and getting you even more wet.

“Sevika, please, put a baby in me,” you began, “I need you to impregnate me, please, I need it.”

“Mhm? Do you need it?” Sevika mocked cock already aligning against your hole and going in with a single thrust.

Your eyes rolled back as she bottomed out and pulled right back out before slamming it back in, hitting that on sweet spot that back you scratch on her back and bite her shoulder.

Sevika loved it when you bit her shoulder like that, it made you wilder and she loved rough sex. Sevika started slamming her huge shaft into you, grunting from the strain of her muscles every now and then, “Gonna fill you up, gonna fill you up to the brim,” she mumbled under her breath, the headboard of the bed slammed against the wall and you were sure the neighbours would likely come down with a noise complaint.

You buried the thought down, crying as Sevika bit your nipple, pulling it with her teeth, “C-C-cumming!” You stuttered and a gush of liquid went over her length, making her eyes close in bliss but she didn't stop there.

She continued ramming into your pussy, her dick throbbing, “Gonna fill you up, take it, slut.” You gasped as you felt the warm semen fill you up, moaning loudly, legs and hands falling back onto the mattress.

You were gonna be a mother soon.

[enhaeil]

IT'S JUST A TKO! ☆ RIIZE

"baby, now I don't really know what we're fighting for. this rematch sex is amazing, but nobody wins if somebody's heart is swole"

tko - justin timberlake

make-up sex with ot7!riize

c/w: somnophilia kinda, suggestive, not full on smut but we gettin there

☆

shotaro

you won't even lie. shotaro didn't do anything to you. you just felt like picking a fight. and he knew that. but he decided to let you get your little tantrum out. after a while, he just gets annoyed and tries to lean in to kiss on your neck. you instead push him away with an attitude, looking one way. the car is silent as he stares at the side of your face as if he's trying to get a read on you, before he quickly unbuckles his seatbelt and reaches over you to let back your seat. "taro...what're you doing?"

"solving the problem." he says before lifting up your skirt and devouring you in his front seat. best believe that attitude was gone afterward.

eunseok

you have had an attitude ALL day literally. why? because you didn't get your way. your way being eunseok. you guys were on the way to dinner and you started to feel needy. as he parked you started tying your hair up ready to suck him off in the lot but he stopped you. "girl, are you crazy?" he says chuckling at you.

that really ticked you off and you played in his face the whole night; touching him under the table, making unnecessary noises, and bending down knowing good and well that dress is short.

you already know eunseok do not play that at all. he played it smooth and romantic that whole night until y'all hit that car. he forces you into the back seat as he takes his suit jacket off.

"you wanna get fucked so bad, hm? bend the fuck over."

sungchan

you really messed up this time. usually, arguments with sungchan get resolved maturely, but this time it was you who said some things that shouldn't have been said. he locks himself in your shared room for hours before you finally put your pride aside and check on him. you see him sleeping peacefully, sleep shirt rising up a little, giving you a glimpse of his happy trail. you then get a bright idea; head as an apology.

you slowly climb on top of him, bringing his sweats down. you palm him until he's hard before you lick at his tip to test the waters. he doesn't stir one bit. you then completely take him in your mouth, and that's when he shoots up groggily.

"b-baby, what're you doing-" he says before it gets cut off with his own moans.

"apologizing."

wonbin

whenever you and wonbin argued, he was the ceo of 'idgaf'. he acted like you being mad at him barely phased him when really he was going crazy every second you didn't speak to him. he was losing hearing in his left eye and taste in his right.

you had enough of this nonchalant persona, though. you decided to mess with him. walking around the house in your sluttiest dress, making sure to 'accidentally' drop something on your way by, puffing out your chest; yet he didn't crack one bit.

you finally give up and change into your typical sleepwear, put your hair up, and crawled into bed facing away from him. it's silent for a minute before you hear shuffling from behind you and then something hard against your back.

"wonbin.." he pressed his face into your neck as he absentmindedly rubbed himself against you.

"i'm sorry, y/n. please touch me."

seunghan

seunghan fucked up. he forgot your date and you were not happy about it. you decided to isolate yourself in your shared bedroom before seunghan comes wondering in and plops himself onto the bed. he waits for you to acknowledge his presence, but you just keep scrolling. he presses experimental kisses on your stomach before they trail their way down. "y/n...talk to me." you still don't even spare him a glance. his fingers work at the button of your shorts before he slides his hands to feel over your panties. you can't help but react to his touch.

"you still mad at me?"

sohee

you and sohee just came from an event, and a guy got a little too close to you. usually, he doesn't get angry, especially not at you, but for some reason, today it really ticked him off. "y/n, don't you see he was flirting with you?"

"sohee you're being dramatic." you say sighing with an eye roll.

"bet." the rest of the car ride home was silent and you can't lie you were a bit nervous. this wasn't your typical sweet sohee, this was somebody else.

—

"i'll show you dramatic." he says thrusting into you at an extremely harsh pace, damn near rearranging your guts. "sohee...slow down please"

he doesn't listen to you and instead pushes one of your legs up causing him to press deeper into you. "he fuck you like this?"

anton

anton's honestly not even taking this argument seriously. you're yelling at him about god knows what, hell, he doesn't even know how he got here. what he does know is that his goddess of a girlfriend looks hot when she's angry. "baby..." he begins to say before you cut him off.

"no, anton, you need to listen to me. i asked you to stop doing that months ago, and you keep going." anton isn't even the little bit of interested right now. "do you hear me?" you ask folding your arms across your chest.

"yes ma'am. whatever you say captain, just please for the love of god, sit on my face." he says grabbing your waist to bring you into his lap.

a/n: gulp. i just wanted to get this out of my drafts bc i hate it

[delespresso]

RERUN ━━ Fiyero x fem!reader

author's note; this took longer than expected, i'm sorry! but here we are <3

prompt; "Admit it you missed me." "I certainly missed kicking your ass, if that's what you mean." for Fiyero x Reader? (maybe they knew eachother as kids?)

summary; fiyero's arrival in shiz university had everyone in a frenzy, but especially a certain lady from winkie country

side notes; i'm using a surname for the reader this time but its not an oc, feel free to imagine your own name! (i just didn't wanna use y/n). never read the books, so if i say anything about the vinkus/ winkie country is purely from google searches and maybe even made up by myself idk 😭

━━ ☄. *. ⋆

The newspaper pretty much hit her in the face.

She'd been walking in the courtyard, intending to head back to her dorm to get ready for her classes after an early morning jog. But the newspaper that somehow flew from a stack on one of the tables quite literally smacked her in the face.

She grabbed it with a huff, about to throw it aside. Of course, until the headline of the latest report from The Shiz Gazette caught her eye.

Prince Fiyero Spotted at Shiz!

She read it over and over again. Looked at the picture they'd printed repeatedly. Then she tossed it onto the floor, quite literally stomping over it as she ran back to her dorm.

When was the last time she saw that stupid, handsome prince? They were both younger then. Their separation was mainly because he could never for the life of him keep himself in one school — there was always something he did that had him transferred to a new one.

She'd thought that now she was in Shiz, maybe they wouldn't meet again. After all, it was quite a prestigious school. Maybe his nonchalant, slacking attitude would have him rejected the moment they saw his name.

She was so wrong.

He was here. Fiyero Tigelaar was here. The Winkie Prince. The boy she grew up with. The boy who stole her butterfly clips for no other reason than to make her run in the rain to catch him. The bane of her existence.

She was sure the universe was conspiring against her. The second she'd changed into her uniform, she left her dorm. Admittedly, it wasn't the typical blues that everyone wore. She was one of the few with a different shade; greys and lighter blues instead. She intended to head straight for her first class— only to find a small crowd gathered outside.

That horse. Oh, she knew the horse. She recognised the bloody horse before she even saw the person.

When someone finally moved their head out of the way, she caught sight of Fiyero Tigelaar himself. He was by the directory board, figuring out the layout of the place. Galinda was there too, no doubt trying to offer some touring services. He turned his head, about to respond to the blonde girl — when his gaze drifted over the girl's shoulder and found a familiar face.

A smile immediately broke on his ridiculously handsome face, his hand raised for a wave. It was as if everyone's attention immediately snapped to her.

She sighed inwardly, her eyes narrowed. The slightest nod was all the acknowledgement she gave him before she turned and trudged off elsewhere, avoiding him at all costs.

She'd heard of his little escapade to the Ozdust Ballroom, bringing quite the group of students with him for a night out in town. Already he was rubbing off on everyone, influencing them into his bad habits.

Fiyero had been in Shiz for a week now, and she'd successfully avoided him. But of course her peace and quiet couldn't last forever. In the back shelves of the library, as she skimmed through the book bindings to find a history book — she was loudly interrupted.

“Lady Yarrow.”

She nearly dropped a book with a gasp, startled by the sudden intrusion. Then she was quick to hush the person, spinning on her heels to see Fiyero's smug expression.

“This is a library,” she pointed out.

“Really? It was introduced to me as the ‘bookplace’,” he hummed, looking around as if it was a new discovery.

She rolled her eyes, inhaling deeply to prevent herself from yelling at him like she used to back when they were in Winkie Country.

“Library,” she repeated. “And you're meant to be quiet.”

Fiyero grinned, knowing she was getting ticked off already.

“And is this ever-present tension a new development? Or have I forgotten how easy you are to rile up?” he teased.

The young girl he knew was always sensitive, took everything to heart. They weren't necessarily best of friends but they weren't enemies either — or so he believed.

“Why are you here?” she deflected with ease as she turned back to searching for her book.

“I wanted to read.”

“Ha!”

“Shh, its a library,” he exclaimed in a mock whisper, repeating her earlier words as she shot him an exasperated glare.

“Why are you in Shiz?” she asked instead, moving on from the topic.

“Transferred from Royal Winkie.”

“Kicked out, I believe is the right term.”

“Oh so you have been keeping up with me?” he exclaimed, a bit of a giddy grin on his face as tailed her through the shelves.

When she didn't respond, he just skipped his way until he was in front of her. He walked backwards as she moved forward, still looking through the titles.

“I haven't. But you know our parents,” she grumbled.

“Admit it, princess, you missed me,” he teased, poking at her shoulder.

She swatted his hand away, looking up at him with narrowed eyes. He was still as insufferable as ever.

“I certainly missed kicking your ass, if that's what you mean.”

Fiyero chuckled at that, but he persisted anyway. He just kept shadowing her through the library, pestering her with random teases or jokes even until she was leaving. Even then he followed her.

She just couldn't seem to shake him even if she tried.

“Princess,” he drawled, knowing full well how much she hated when he called her that.

He couldn't help it though — getting on her nerves was his hobby. Not to mention, he hasn't seen her in years.

She ignored him though, continuing to walk through the halls and towards the garden instead. Fiyero knew she was stubborn, but so was he.

“Ignoring me won't make me go away,” he pointed out.

“Throwing a log at you might.”

His laugh was awfully gleeful for someone who just got threatened. When she settled at one of the tables in the garden, she noticed he wasn't directly with her anymore.

Just as she thought she was free of his torment, there was a daffodil suddenly in front of her face. She looked at the hand holding the yellow flower, following it up to see his cheeky and smug face. In a smooth motion, he slid the flower in her hair as an extra accessory.

"You know, I think I'll enjoy wearing you down," he said, before giving her his signature smile and walking away.

Fiyero Tigelaar made it his life mission to bother her at all times from that day onward — letting history repeat itself, as always.

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[heylittleriotact]

So I can't stop sharing this after realizing it myself earlier... After Rook tells Emmerich that they're a virgin, during their dinner date, and he clearly processes what is a VERY unexpected fact to him, he tells them that's okay, and you 2 can just take things slowly. :) It's sweet, right? But also... Emmrich... how fast did YOU wanna take things? Because now this man's got me convinced he was SO down bad for Rook, he wasn't gonna waste time NOT hitting it now that they're together. I'm unwell

Okay so I actually really appreciate how ambiguous they left Rook and Emmrich's sexual relationship until the coffin scene in the third act: they wrote it such that the player could headcanon that they had an intimate relationship already leading up to that scene OR it was the first time they slept together, and I think that's AMAZING.

I headcanon that my Rook (not a virgin) and Emmrich slept together for the first time the night of the dinner date, and I think that he planned the night not with the intention of seducing Rook, but with the mindset that if they were interested in moving forward with the sexual aspect of their relationship, the privacy of the Necropolis might be a bit more relaxing that the Lighthouse. It's clear that Emmrich has pulled some strings to have the gardens roped off just for the purpose of their romantic dinner, he goes above and beyond with the meal, they have a very sweet conversation about their feelings and attraction to each other, mention previous dates (or lack of), and the whole thing ends with a fade to black.

... and I'm a romantic degenerate who sighs and stares dreamily into space while twirling my hair at the thought of them making love for the first time on a bed of soft flowers in the garden, illuminated by veilfire as wisps float lazily through the air... but I digress:

Since Emmrich trusts that Rook isn't pursuing him from a place of "charming flattery" I think he takes their new relationship incredibly seriously, and part of that is acknowledging the sexual aspect of it. He strikes me very much an actions over words kind of person (hence the charming flattery remark), and given their circumstances and what they're up against, facing danger, violence and the possibility of death on a daily basis (especially daunting for him), I feel like Emmrich would be very motivated to explore that aspect of the relationship as soon as Rook was comfortable with it.

He's also older, more experienced (even if Rook isn't a virgin), and gives off the vibe that he's extremely comfortable with sex and intimacy based on the banter he has with Davrin. I think he views physical intimacy as yet another way to express his feelings for Rook and show them how much they mean to him. This man isn't sure if they're going to see tomorrow, let alone next week: he's only got so much time to make sure that Rook knows how treasured they are, so that's going to include romantic dates, deep conversations, surprising them with thoughtful gifts, and making love as often as they can get away with it. Regardless of what comes next, he doesn't want Rook to doubt for a second how much they mean to him, but he puts the choice about sex squarely in their hands and will let them ultimately be the one who makes the call as to when they're ready to explore that.

Once their relationship begins, he appears to court Rook quite ardently, with enough enthusiasm that Harding takes notice and points out that he's been mopey and distracted lately, and goes so far as to suggest that perhaps he and Rook are taking things a little fast. Even he's aware that this is moving at quite a pace, and he's clearly worried about how other people will/might perceive that given their respective ages - he probably thinks that people think he's a dirty creepy old man: a besotted fool, but I don't think he could approach Rook any other way even if he tried.

There are no half measures with this man: once he's in, he is IN. He's not fucking playing: this isn't just a casual fling that he expects to end once this evanuris business is over. It's probably why he comes off as a bit guarded and hesitant to engage with Rook's earlier flirtations: he probably puts this amount of care, vulnerability, and passionate authenticity into ALL his romantic relationships, and has probably been hurt in the past because of it.

Anyway, this has become suuuuuper unnecessarily lengthy, but I have so many feelings about this man, and I am indeed unwell too.

[the-odd-shu]

You're supposed to be sick, don't sass me

A continuation of lab shenanigans, and Hey Hextech

Masterlist

Next part:

Characters: Viktor, Jayce, Reader

(Pre - Jayce/Viktor/Reader) (POLYCULEEEE!)

A thread following the chaotic trio that is, laboratory illustrator!Reader, Viktor and Jayce being unsupervised in the lab.

Note; this takes place during season 1, and the reader is gender neutral with they/them pronouns.

Reader who started the day with an annoying cough, and a tickle in their throat, and slowly declined in energy throughout the day.

They come into the lab ten minutes after the boys, cradling a warm drink between chilled hands with their backpack slung over their shoulder. Viktor is already at the chalkboard drawing up a set of equations he thought up whilst at home last night, whilst Reader can hear Jayce in the kitchenette loudly stirring mugs.

"And what time do you call this?" Viktor drawled from the chalkboard, eyes practically sparkling with mischief as he glances at them over his shoulder.

Reader makes a show of looking at the clock hung above the chalkboard. The minute hand was exactly two past the hour, which was honestly pretty early for them, since they tended to roll up around five past on a good day. "I'd call it, right on time."

Viktor sighs in exasperation, and Jayce chooses then to come out of the kitchenette, a mug in each hand. "Oh, good morning. Are you ready to finish everything up for the deadline tonight?" He asks, like an unaware asshole (affectionate).

Reader's face goes through the five stages of grief. "Uh, deadline...?"

Jayce, like the unaware, workaholic he is, simply strides up to the chalkboard to hand Viktor his mug of sweetmilk, all whilst sprouting information about an enormous research paper they had been aware of, but knew still needed half a dozen sketches and polishing before it could be submitted.

"Ah." Reader says eloquently, which draws Jayce's concern. "I thought that was due in next week."

"I'm afraid not." Viktor interjects, voice uncharacteristically soft, as if he expects them to begin freaking out. Which prompts them to make a point not to, simply because he had been expecting it, and that man was right about too many things already.

They take in a deep, calming breath instead, and take a sharp drag from their warm drink. "Right then, time to clock in. No one look at me, breathe near me, or acknowledge me until it's done, got it?"

"Can I interrupt you to bring you drinks at least?" Jayce asked, expression totally serious.

They pause to think about it for a moment. "Only once I've done half of it, or I'm actively crying from eye strain. Whichever comes first really."

The day progresses. Reader gets on with their work, Jayce and Viktor get on with theirs'. At a glance, it seems like nothing is wrong.

But then when Jayce comes round with the drinks and begins insisting on a break, Reader becomes snappish with him. He notices that they keep alternating between taking off their uniform jacket, and dragging it back on and as well as their coat with increasing frustration. It isn't cold in the lab today, not to Jayce anyway, and yet he's fairly certain they're shivering. And what's even more concerning, is that Viktor doesn't even have goosebumps, which he is notorious for having, sometimes even with the heating on.

Reader who asks for a herbal tea during the break with a hoarse voice, instead of their usual caffeine monstrosity, which has Jayce's eyes widening in shock, and Viktor's head snapping up from his textbook, the pair exchange concerned looks from across the room.

Reader who has begun rubbing at their eyes, with a small frown, but continues to finish drawing after drawing of their assignments for that day.

Jayce being reluctant to step in, since he'd been conditioned with the spray bottle to offer help only when it was asked where his lab partners and their work were concerned. He reasoned that they were an adult anyway, and would no doubt step away from their desk when they truly reached the end of their tether.

Viktor who realises he is the one who is going to have to step in.

Reader who has just finished up yet another sketch, has moved it to the side with the others, and has taken up their pencil to begin another.

"That's enough for now. You need to take a break." Viktor tells them firmly, approaching their desk.

They sigh, pencil momentarily forgotten, as they rub at the bridge of their nose. Viktor couldn't help but notice just how exhausted they looked. Their complexion has severely deteriorated since they came in this morning. Eyelids heavy, movements sluggish.

"You know I can't, V. We have Councilor Medarda coming in the morning, and the sketches for this proposal need to be completed in time to be scanned onto the paper."

"Maybe, but you've already done most of them. We can get by with a sketch or two less than usual."

"I have no doubt you could, but that doesn't mean you should."

"Y/n-"

"Just leave it! Please? The sooner I get these done, the sooner I can go home."

Viktor sighed. "You know we won't hold it against you if you're a day behind-"

"Oh, don't be a hypocrite, Viktor." They interrupted him, tone sharper than he is used to hearing from them. "Just last week, Jayce had to bribe you out of the lab when you went on a sixteen hour deep dive into some theory you had."

With a tight snort, they turned away to pick up their pencil.

Viktor's brows furrowed as his grip tightened on his cane. "Don't be cranky with me."

"Then leave me alone to work." They tiredly replied, "you're in my light."

A heavy sigh from Viktor as he pointedly does not step out of their light. "Jayce, hit the lights."

The sheer absurdity of the command, gives Reader pause.

"Wha-what? I am literally doing this for your paper?" They try to complain, time within which Jayce had diligently crossed the lab and has flicked off the lights, then he's heading in the opposite direction to the windows, where he begins to draw the blinds.

Reader lets out a hysterical little laugh. "You two are so weird sometimes."

Jayce comes back to their desk, a big shadow amongst the silhouettes of the desks and lab equipment. Perhaps this wasn't their smartest idea to go blind in a science lab of all places, but Viktor reasoned it was the only way to get Reader to physically stop doing their job.

"Right, pick something to work on for the next few hours," Viktor says to Jayce, "I'll email Councilor Medarda that we need more time, then we're heading over to Y/n's place."

"Excuse me? When did I invite you over?!"

"When you started being a brat." Viktor returns easily, before spinning on his heel and carefully navigating his way back to his desk. His eyes are already pretty much adjusted so it's not too much trouble.

Reader groans. "You're not listening to me." They complain. "I can push through and get it done for the deadline tonight. I'm just a little tired."

"I am sure you could." Viktor replies. "But as a hypocrite, I must remind you that your health comes before any work you need to do or complete."

Jayce approaches Reader's desk, steps loud and audible so they won't get jumpscared by him. With care, he takes the pencil from their hand and sets it down on the stack of papers waiting to be completed. "V is right."

"Not you too Jayce."

"No, listen. The deadline is nowhere near as important as your health. You'd done a lot of work already, more than enough, so let's just leave it at that today."

Reader glares at him. "The next time one of you gets a cold, I don't want to hear any shit about me being overbearing."

Jayce smiled, and Reader immediately crumbles.

With a heavy sigh, they sit back in their chair. "Fine. But you cannot say I didn't try to get this done."

Basically, they bully Reader into leaving the lab early. They're reluctant to go, so the boys decide 'fuck it, lets take some work and go back to Reader's place to make sure they get some rest'.

Cue the boys going to work in the living room after herding Reader to their room and ordering them to take a nap.

A nap which morphs into fitful sleep, as Reader's body steadily declines. They begin coughing full force. Tossing and turning. Getting too hot. Then abruptly shivering from how cold it suddenly gets. Getting up to pee. Checking the time, before going back to bed. Briefly resurface for pain meds. Realise that time has BAREKY moved since they last checked and now they're just BORED! They try to go back to sleep again.

Reader can feel themselves getting sicker as their voice begins to strain and hurt, but their mind is still active.

They have weird fever dreams. They keep waking up, and not really knowing where they are.

Jayce and Viktor are passed out in the living room when Reader cracks open their bedroom door, suddenly ravenous for food, and wrapped in a heavy blanket with bare feet. They pad down the hall of the flat to the kitchen, where they pull bread out of the cupboard and begin wolfing it down slice by slice. Somehow it is EXACTLY what they wanted to eat. Just solid enough to feel nice on their sore throat, without aggravating it further. Their throat is shot from coughing, tight and uncomfortable with every swallow, but their hunger wins out over the pain.

Then they shift their attention to the medicine cupboard, pulling down a new brand of painkillers and filling a glass of water to wash it all down.

They dread dragging themselves back into that sweaty bed, envisioning more hours of boring tossing and turning. Of throwing the covers off when the heat threatened to boil them, all before scrambling to drag them back and hunker down when the coolness became frigid.

Instead of going back to their bedroom, they drag their ass into the living room, where their co-workers are passed out on the couches. The couches THEY want to curl up on and catch some sleep. Jayce - as always - was taking up the entirety of his, whilst Viktor was sat upright, feet on the floor with his head thrown back and resting on the backrest, which couldn't have been comfortable for his neck.

Deciding that Jayce was in too deep of a sleep to even attempt at waking, Reader shuffles over to Viktor and lightly nudges his good foot with their toes. His head rolls towards them, eyes fluttering open to frown up at them.

"What is it?"

"Got bored."

He scoffs. "Only you could get bored of being sick."

They shrug. "I need a change of scenery." They explained, before sliding a hand out from beneath their blanket cloak to motion to the couch beside him. "Can I sit there?"

Viktor glanced down at the empty expanse of couch. "Wouldn't you prefer to lay down?"

"Are you offering up your lap as a pillow?"

His brows jumped up to his hairline at the bold question. And if they had been in their right mind, they might have rapidly backpedalled and tried to pass it off as a joke. But as they were, tired and waiting for the painmeds to dull the ache in their skull, they didn't have the energy to spare to save face. Besides, they knew that Viktor was the kind to jab someone with his cane rather than allow them to make him uncomfortable.

"I suppose." Viktor said after a long moment of drawn out thought.

"Great. Thanks." They replied before crawling onto the couch cushion, curling up on their side whilst pulling the blanket more fully over them and plopping their head into his lap. Luckily, most of their face landed on his good leg rather than the one encircled in the brace, but either way, Viktor didn't protest. Almost immediaely, they could feel themselves relaxing into the comfort of the couch, as a hesitant, nimble hand gently lowered itself to their temple. With an absent hum, Viktor checked their temperature before letting his hand card through their sweat damp locks.

Again, they can't find it in themselves to care, their cheeks burn with fever, and yet goosebumps erupt up their forearms. They can feel themselves shivering, even under the blanket.

"-get them anything?" Jayce's voice filters in as their mind begins to resurface from weird dreams consisting of drawings that walked off of pages and a disturbing version of Jayce with no eyebrows.

"A cool flannel perhaps." Viktor's voice rumbles from somewhere closer to their ears. The gentle slid of fingers against their aching temple feels strangely soothing. "And some more painkillers with a glass of water."

"On it."

Footsteps pad away from the couch.

Groggily, Reader peels an eyelid open to find the curtains to the living room drawn against the strong sunlight, leaving the room comfortably dim.

"Finally awake, I see." Viktor muses, his hand carefully pushing their hair away from their forehead.

Jayce comes back into the living room. His jacket and boots off.

Viktor encourages Reader to roll onto their back, their head still comfortably pillowed in his lap. Jayce sets the glass of water and the pills on the coffee table, before kneeling down beside the couch. With careful, broadcasted movements, he lays the cool flannel over Reader's sweaty brow, who shivers at the feeling. The coldness is refreshing, even as it has their forearms to erupt into goosebumps.

"I'm surprised V let you lay here for so long. His bedside manner is usually atrocious."

"It's because I was given no choice." Viktor carefully corrected.

Reader huffs out a weak laugh. "I didn't say it out loud, but he could probably tell it was either let me lay down or he'd find himself on the floor."

"You would not have been able to wrestle me to the carpet in your current state." Viktor corrected sharply. "You looked like death warmed over."

"And I felt like it." Reader agrees. "Just admit it V, you've got a soft spot for me."

Jayce is watching them bicker with fondness in his eyes. Knelt beside the couch, he carefully peels up the flannel, flips it over and reapplied it to Reader’s forehead, who sighs in relief at the freshness.

Viktor's brows loosen ever so slightly as they melt back down into his lap. "I certainly do not hate you." He said, sounding like he was compromising, rather than simply agreeing with them.

"And THAT is as good as a declaration of friendship coming from you."

He tutted, and then shifts. "Up. My leg is stiff and I need to walk around."

"But I'm comfortable."

"Too bad. I've tolerated your thick head for several hours too long."

Jayce helps sit them up, Viktor grabs his cane and hauls himself up with a deep, pained groan, his brace's gear grinding and clicking as his joint turned. He stays looming over the couch for a few moments, testing his leg, whilst Jayce gets Reader a cushion to lean against instead.

I like to think that they take it in turns to bully each other into self care. So if someone gets ill, or burnt out, the other two become makeshift nursemaids and threaten and blackmail them into going home to rest for a bit. Following them home if it is required of them.

I also know in my bones that Jayce is the kind of dumbass to be too cuddly with someone who was sick with 9/10 lands him the same illness a matter of days later, and the cycle continues.

Next part

[avatar-anna]

i saw this trend on tiktok where girlfriends flash their boyfriends to win an argument, and i thought that was genius, so...yeah! that's what this is. enjoyxx

"Baby, we've talked about this."

"I know, but I just think if you listened—"

"I have listened, and I just don't think now is the time to do this."

You rolled your eyes at your boyfriend, annoyed by both his tone and his words. "It'll never be the right time. You just don't want to commit to this relationship."

"Seriously? That's where we're going with this?" Harry asked, finally looking away from where he was chopping vegetables for dinner. "I say it's not the right time to get a dog and you think it's because I'm not committed? Really, Y/n."

He looked down pointedly at himself. Harry stood in the kitchen in an apron that said, Kiss the Cook! You got it for him as a gag gift on his birthday last year since he was always in the kitchen, but he ended up loving it. Naturally, he also demanded you kissed the cook whenever you helped him out with cooking.

You knew what he was trying to say without voicing it, that was committed to you no matter which way you tried to spin it to win the argument. And you knew that, you were just a little annoyed that you and Harry couldn't get on the same page like you normally were.

You and Harry continued to bicker back and forth about the pros and cons of getting a dog together. Harry insisted he wasn't against it, just not now, but you'd done too much research and you knew now was the time, or you would never get around to it.

"You always do this," you said.

"Do what?"

"Try and table a conversation only to never come back to it. Just have a backbone and say you don't want a dog instead of hiding and avoiding it."

Rolling his eyes Harry ran a tired hand over his face. "You know what? Fine, you're right. I don't want a dog."

"But why?"

"Y/n, we travel all the time. We can't train a puppy when we're—"

Harry paused, his eyes finally opening after removing his hand from his face, his eyes settled on you, a mix of emotions quickly running across his face.

"When we're what?" you asked innocently, trying not to smile.

Still not answering, your boyfriend opened and closed his mouth as if his brain was short-circuiting. "You—You just—That's cheating."

"What do you mean?" you said, no longer trying to hide your smirk as Harry stepped closer to you, his eyes not meeting yours at all. They were focused solely on your chest, where you'd conveniently lifted your shirt to expose your breasts.

Coming out of his stupor but still not meeting your gaze, he said, "You don't get to—to use your tits against me!"

"Why, is it working?"

Harry shook his head in utter disbelief, his eyes almost completely glazed over. Whether he liked it or not, you won this round.

"Yes—No—I mean...What were we arguing about again?"

Chuckling softly, you cupped his cheek with your hand. "We were deciding on whether or not we should get a dog."

"Oh. Right. Whatever you want, baby."

"Really?"

You thought this would soften your boyfriend, push him in the right direction, but you didn't think he'd cave so quickly. Harry was already leading you toward the stairs, clearly ready to leave the argument behind.

"Course. Come convince me some more upstairs."

*.*

"Seriously? You're still on that stupid thing?"

Harry barely glanced your way before looking back at the TV, his thumbs moving furiously over his game controller. He mumbled his greeting, too engrossed in his game to acknowledge your presence.

Your boyfriend wasn't typically the video game type, only ever using his gaming console occasionally. That was until a few weeks ago when one of his friends got him hooked on some new game and now he played it nonstop. You didn't really care if Harry played video games, but this had become a fixation. It had been ages since you and him went to bed together at the same time, or gone on a date,, or had sex.

You'd been thoroughly replaced by some game.

"H, have you even gotten up from the couch since I left?"

The response Harry gave you was abysmal, only sparking your irritation more. You'd left him in that exact position hours ago to run errands, and he was still there. You doubt he'd so much as gotten up to eat since you'd been gone.

"Are you even listening to me?"

"That sounds great, baby," Harry said, his eyes still glued to his game.

You narrowed your eyes at your boyfriend. "I will not be second to a video game," you muttered before inching closer to the TV. With a sigh, you reached for the bottom of your shirt and lifted it up, taking the bralette you wore with you.

Harry didn't notice at first, which was really going to piss you off, but his eyes snagged on your naked chest as he switched positions on the couch. His whole body stilled as he took you in, his rapidly moving thumbs coming to a halt on his controller.

"Are you done playing now?" you asked, your brows raising expectantly.

Not looking at his game once, Harry tossed the controller on the couch and stood up. As if in a trance, he walked toward you. As he got closer, you could hear shouts of protests from his friends coming from the headset still on his head. He took that off too, then lifted you up without warning. You quickly wrapped your legs around his waist as he led you to your bedroom. And when he laid you down on the bed, you grinned, satisfied that your boyfriend was still wrapped around your finger.

[uravitypng]

soulmate hanta who is completely oblivious to that fact that he is your soulmate. everybody is born with a soulmate mark, a scribble of words that are the first words your soulmate utters to you placed somewhere along your hip. hanta sero who is nonchalant and chill about things that he doesn't realise he's already met his soulmate. they met on the first day of ua and he didn't even notice, and you... well you noticed but how could you tell him.

everyone's going around introducing themselves, he doesn't introduce himself though. your bag was neatly tucked away under your desk, already ready to start class when hanta somehow tripped over it, he caught himself in the last minute

"fuck, that could've gone really bad." he grinned at you and you were too stunned to speak, your body felt warm, like fireworks exploding and the warmth left over from sparklers their bright vivid colours flowing through you, you found your soulmate. you didn't get the chance to reply to him, an authoritative voice started speaking, aizawa sensei, and then class started.

you tried really bad to talk to him but he oozed of confidence and friendless, if the roles were reversed and you tripped over his bag you don't even think you would of been able to say something, you'd probably just rush off in embarrassment. he jokes around with everyone and you fade away in the background, you didn't even mean to, it wasn't your intention, you told yourself that when you started ua and started the hero course you'd put yourself out there more but that changed when the idea of talking to your soulmate was so daunting.

soulmate hanta who lays in his hammock with his arm of his face, groaning because you are just so adorable! and you won't talk to him, you're quiet anyway but around him it's like you don't say anything. he doesn't even know if he's ever heard you talk. he frowns at the idea that you won't talk to him because you don't like him, he wants you to like him, he wants you to talk to him! everything about you leaves him in a tizzy- the way you smile, your laugh, your anime pins stuck to your bag, how you got bakugou to open up to you even before kirishima. he can't explain it but he just wants to be near you.

you want to be near him, you want to ask him about his favourite manga, you want to know more about him but you conclude your soulmate wants nothing to do with you. you've only spoken to him once, a month into meeting each other, and he didn't say anything about your mark. he didn't have any reaction. you were talking to bakugou, arguing over who did better in the practical today out of the two of you and you're too involved in proving that you were better that you don't realise hanta and kaminari have walked up to you both. you've spoken to kaminari on a couple of occasions he's nice but a bit too complimentary to girls for your liking and you haven't said one single word to hanta, overthinking every little thing. "oi, you two which one of us was stronger today in our practical?" bakugou shouts over to them.

you don't remember kaminari's response, you remember hanta's, "i mean you're good bakugou but she's miles ahead of you." your heart soars, you don't think you've ever been so happy in your life. shouting ensues, lots of shouting, bakugou calling hanta blind and various other insults.

over all that you say, "thanks sero, you were great too," the end of your sentence gets quieter and you stutter more. they can barely hear you over all the shouting. hanta doesn't look at you or make any acknowledge of what you just said, like 'oh hey, that's what my soulmate mark says' nothing. he heard you but he didn't want anything to do with you. the rejection hurt but you knew something like this would happen, you never expected him to like you but you would've liked him to say something like 'i'm not interested but i still want to be friends with you.'

the lack of any acknowledge on his behalf made it clear to you and you don't want to disrespect his wishes, if he doesn't want to get to know you then you won't force yourself into his life. what you didn't realise is your soulmate didn't even hear what you said... he didn't reject you at all he just didn't hear.

five minutes beforehand he was almost dragging denki by his sleeve over to you and bakugou because he wants to talk to you. he's had this warm fuzzy feeling from the first moment he's seen you and it's just grown and grown.

soulmate hanta is buzzing now that everyone is moving into dorms because surely that means you'll have to talk to him.

soulmate hanta who inserts himself into your life. that anime pin on your bag? he's asking if you've read the manga. he's making teasing jabs at bakugou with you about how his cooking for everyone gives it away that he loves all of the class, bakugou always tells him to fuck off and you have a fit of giggles. he gives you ideas when he can see you're struggling and hit a road block with your hero costume support items. he'll swing you with him to the roof of tallest towers in the city and talk for hours until the sun comes up about the future and plans for being a pro. he's loud and sociable and brings you out of your shell to speak up when he can see that you want but are too afraid to, he's there to give you a push but also relax with you in the dorms when he can tell that you don't have the energy for everyone. he'll bring snacks and you'll watch films and he'll speak to you gently and soothingly that puts your mind at ease when you get overwhelmed. he'll read you manga while you rest your head on his lap and you'll get overly competitive when it comes to mario kart.

you don't understand why your soulmate had this change of mindset about you, maybe it's because you're all living together but now you have him in your life you're not jeopardising that. the time you share with everyone is amazing, and the time you and hanta share with everyone is amazing but when you're just together alone that amazing turns into perfection. you want to bottle up those moments with a glass and keep them forever.

falling in love with hanta didn't surprise you, you knew it would happen sooner or later. you never spoke to each other about being soulmates or relationships (you thought you knew why) you didn't engage in conversations with the rest of the class about it either. you didn't want to put hanta on the spot like that, 'yeah, i've found my soulmate guys, i spend every day with him but he rejected me. oh look! here he comes now, hi sero!' you were wrong though. it didn't happen like you thought it did.

soulmate hanta who isn't just called 'hanta' in your head but when you speak to him or about him, after eight years of knowing each other you've gotten past the use of family names. the first time he heard you speak it his heart skipped a beat. your heads were pressed together and you were under a blanket asleep. you both drifted off at some point during film night, it was time for you both to start joint patrol so you woke him up, whispering his name. you joined the same agency so that meant you liked doing as much joint patrol with each other as possible.

soulmate hanta who's never been in a relationship before and is a complete virgin. he doesn't care about other girls, not even to look their way for a night, all he cares about is you. the idea of even dating a girl riddles him with guilt over how he wishes it was you. hanta is fully aware that you've never been in a relationship either.

soulmate hanta can't bare to look you in the eyes and hear about the person you love or how you're yearning to find your soulmate. he couldn't bare that pain. the idea that you have someone out there- it kills him. in that sense he's insecure, he knows he should be supportive and ask about your soulmate, it seems that every other person has had at least one conversation about it but he just can't. you've never even had a relationship and he knows he should ask why but then you might ask him the same question and the reason would be- you.

the thought that his words may be written on your hip never cross his mind, he's never been in denial that he loves you but he never thought it was reciprocated.

the thought that he himself has a soulmate never, even for a second, flits through in his mind. he doesn't think he's met them and he doesn't care if he does. they won't be you.

next

[littlespoonevan]

Hi Ciara ☺️ I’ve been following you for years and years, pretty sure it was you that got me into skam back in the day and 911 more recently. So thanks for that 😄 Are you taking fic prompts by any chance? Because I saw a prompt in the wild that I would LOVE to see your take on (no pressure ofc!). The prompt is simple: either buck or Eddie brings up the topic of them getting together, like “have you ever thought of us being together?” And they have a frank, honest discussion about it. I love a good miscommunication and/or pining moment but I so rarely see this instead and I think it fits so well. I read another fic with this prompt and loved it, it’s called at the kitchen table by iphigenias. But that one was set during bucktaylor so I’d also love to see a similar premise but set post bucktommy! Anyway sorry for the very long ask luv u

ahh omg first of all, you sent this to me so long ago and i'm so sorry i'm only getting to it now!!! the good news is, 8b made this specific prompt very easy to imagine in a canon setting asdkjfh. also i looooove the idea of situations where the characters know how they feel and they're not quite ready to take the leap but just knowing is enough to make them feel all ✨✨✨ inside so that is what this is lol

this is set in some nebulous time post-8x15 when eddie is home and everything is fine and peaceful ❤️ i really hope it lives up to what you wanted :')

-

Buck passes Eddie another beer before climbing over his legs where they’re propped up on the coffee table to reach his own seat in the other corner of the couch.

“Thanks, man,” Eddie says and Buck hums in acknowledgment, slouching deeper into the couch cushion and picking up the remote to unpause the TV.

It’s a quiet Friday after an even quieter week and Buck is grateful for it. Especially after the turmoil of this past month. But Bobby’s safe and Eddie and Chris are home and Eddie hasn’t brought up kicking Buck out of his house yet so he intends to savour this night for all its worth.

“Hey, you never told me what happened with Tommy in the end.”

Eddie doesn’t even look at him when he says it, voice nonchalant and eyes trained on the movie they’re watching, but Buck still chokes on his beer.

“Um, what?”

Eddie casts him a sidelong glance. “Things seemed pretty awkward at that call yesterday.”

Ah. The call. The one that required air support. And of course, there was no one else at Harbour they could’ve possibly sent. Because the universe hates Buck.

Their greeting had been politely stilted until Eddie had appeared at Buck’s side and touched the spot between his shoulder blades to let him know they were ready to leave and then Tommy had made the same face he’d made in Eddie’s kitchen two months ago. Buck had almost swallowed his own tongue in an attempt not to snap back – not least of all because Eddie still doesn’t know what Tommy had said.

He knows they slept together. Knows Buck hasn’t called Tommy since. But that’s it.

“Oh it’s just-” Buck waves a hand, taking another pull of his beer to buy some time. “We had a…disagreement last time we spoke.”

Now, Eddie pauses the TV, feet dropping off the coffee table so he can turn more towards Buck. “When he stayed over.”

Buck cringes. Eddie has never really shared his opinion on Buck taking Tommy back here but it has to be weird, right? They were in Eddie’s room. At least it wasn’t his bed.

“Yeah. He just said something and it’s…” He shakes his head, not bothering to finish the sentence and hoping Eddie will let it drop.

He doesn’t, obviously.

“What’d he say?”

For a moment, Buck weighs his options. The odds of Eddie letting this go if he keeps being evasive are slim. But likewise, he can’t think of a good enough lie to satisfy Eddie’s curiosity. Dropping his head against the back of the couch and staring at the ceiling, he finally says, “He said something about you. And it pissed me off.”

“About me?”

He can hear the confusion in Eddie’s voice but he doesn’t dare raise his head to see what his face is doing.

“He um, implied that- that you were competition. For him. And that he was more willing to get back together now that you were gone.”

Eddie doesn’t answer right away and the silence stretches so long Buck has no choice but to look at him. He doesn’t look angry, at least. If anything, he looks like he’s working through a particularly difficult puzzle in his head.

Eventually, he asks, “When you say ‘implied’…?”

Buck clears his throat. “Uh, I believe his exact words were, ‘Now that the competition’s out of the way.’”

Eddie opens his mouth only to close it again a beat later and Buck finally lets the anxiety gnawing at his insides consume him.

“I told him it was stupid, obviously. And that it made no sense because you were straight. And-”

“Did he think I had feelings for you or that you had feelings for me?” Eddie interrupts.

Buck frowns. In the aftermath, he’d only ever really thought about what Tommy was insinuating about him, not Eddie. “Um, the second one? Or- b-both, I guess? But it doesn’t matter, I told him-”

“It’s okay, Buck. You don’t have to convince me of anything.” Eddie’s voice is gentle when he cuts in, too much of a soft place to land that Buck can’t help the way the frustration deflates out of him.

“I know, sorry. Just- he and I haven’t really spoken since then, so…”

The room quiets around them again but Eddie doesn’t press play on the movie. Buck plays with the label on his bottle and tries desperately to ignore the weird tension in the air until-

“Have you ever thought about it?”

Buck snaps his head up, finding Eddie watching him with an inscrutable expression. “Thought about what?”

“Us. Being together.”

For a second, Buck has the horrible, churning feeling that he’s somehow been caught out – that Eddie has unravelled the thread he’s kept so tightly wound in his head with just three simple words – but then he scrambles. “Wh- But- I mean, you’re straight and-”

“What if I wasn’t?”

The words pull Buck up short and his brain short-circuits long enough that all he can manage is a dumbfounded, “What.”

“What if I wasn’t?” Eddie repeats, voice still so, so soft. “If that’s your only argument against it-”

“Is this you coming out to me?” Buck cuts in and Eddie lets out a quiet laugh.

“No. Not really. Just- take that out of the equation. Have you thought about it before?”

“Have you?” Buck asks but it sure as hell sounds like Eddie has and-

“Sometimes.”

“Sometimes,” he echoes, throat constricting. “Whe- when is sometimes?”

Eddie shrugs and Buck feels slightly hysterical at how calm he’s being about all of this. Why is he being so calm about all of this?

“A few years ago when I was having a hard time. Back when I was working at dispatch.”

Buck remembers it. Remembers Christopher on the phone telling him he could hear yelling from Eddie’s room. Remembers breaking Eddie’s door down and that one sickening, horrifying moment where he thought Eddie was dead.

“You were taking Chris to school and making us dinner and helping me clean the house and sitting with me after therapy and we weren’t together but sometimes it felt like we were.”

For the first time since the conversation started, Eddie looks away, glancing down at the beer still in his hand. And even though it feels like his vision is swimming, Buck still sees the ghost of a smile on Eddie’s face before he continues.

“I loved you so much for it, y’know, because I really don’t think I would’ve made it through those months without you. And- I don’t know. Sometimes it felt…comforting, I guess. To think that you were my partner outside of work too.”

The words, “I am,” rise up inside his throat so fast Buck nearly bites clean through the inside of his cheek to stop them from tripping out of him. And it’s just-

He doesn’t know what to say.

He doesn’t know how to process what Eddie’s admitting to. Is he even admitting to anything? He’s admitting he took comfort in Buck’s presence, sure, but that’s not him saying he’s in love with Buck and- and it’s different. Because Buck likes men. So for him to entertain it would…would really fucking hurt, actually. And Buck is so tired of being hurt-

“So, back to my earlier question. Have you ever thought about it?”

Eddie is looking at him with wide, patient eyes. And it’s a look so full of understanding and fondness Buck can feel his throat constricting again and…

“Tommy and Maddie kind of made me think about it.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows. “Maddie’s involved now?”

“I told her what Tommy said.”

“And what did she think?”

Buck lets out a reluctant huff and looks anywhere but Eddie’s face. “That it wouldn’t be so crazy.”

Eddie hums but doesn’t say anymore.

“So I guess I thought about why they would think that,” Buck continues, squeezing the bottle in his hand so tightly he’s afraid it actually might shatter. “And I- I get it. I think.”

It’s the understatement of the century. Because maybe he’s never let himself delve too deep into the thought but it’s only because he knows what he’d find if he did. And he can’t allow that. Can’t do anything that would risk him losing Eddie permanently. He’s too important. Buck is happy with the pieces of him that he’s allowed to have. He doesn’t need all of him, he can survive on this alone.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” he breathes, finally meeting Eddie’s gaze and swallowing the lump in his throat. “We’re important to each other.”

For the first time since the conversation started, Eddie’s calm composure falls away and his face splits into a devastating smile. “Yeah, we are.”

He imagines it, then. His fingers catching in Eddie’s collar, reeling him in for a kiss. He almost thinks Eddie would kiss him back. He doesn’t actually do it because everything feels a little bit too precarious right now but-

But.

“So we’ve both thought about it,” Eddie says, voice betraying nothing even if he’s still smiling.

“Guess so,” Buck croaks in reply.

Eddie’s flicker all over his face and Buck doesn’t know what he finds there but his expression softens and he says, “We don’t have to think about it right now.”

The words come out quietly, a tentative reprieve that has all the air rushing out of Buck’s lungs.

Because this feels like the precipice of something and Buck isn’t sure if he’s ready to take the leap yet but maybe he doesn’t have to. Because maybe Eddie will wait and maybe Buck won’t look for another place to rent and he can take Chris to school again and make them all dinner and it can feel like they’re…

Partners.

He wants it so much it scares the shit out of him. He’s never even let himself imagine Eddie might want it too.

For now, he lets himself sit with the idea of maybe.

Maybe he loves Eddie. Maybe Eddie loves him back.

Maybe there was never any competition to begin with.

“Okay,” he whispers, trying for a smile that matches Eddie’s own.

Eddie ducks his head in response, the faintest pink colouring his cheeks as he picks up the remote and presses play on the movie Buck has no intention of watching anymore.

Their eyes meet once more before skittering away and Buck breathes out a laugh.

Partners. Maybe.

-

[silent-stories]

𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐇 𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐒 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑

Pairing: underground fighter! noah x reader

Series summary: You’re dragged to watch an illegal fight, and after the match, you meet Noah, a fighter who seems to be battling more than just his opponents.

Tw: relationship doubt, nightmares

Series mastelist

Noah turned the corner with a grocery bag slung over one shoulder, thumb hooked through the strap. The bag wasn’t full, just a few essentials: a loaf of bread, a carton of oat milk, a couple of apples and a couple of those meals already cooked and ready to be eaten.

As he passed the intersection near the old mural wall, a half-deflated basketball bounced out into the street in front of him.

“Hey, Noah!” a voice called.

He looked up to see Miles come skidding after the ball, sneakers slapping pavement. Right behind him was Theo, younger by a couple of years, skinnier, always wearing a t-shirt too big for him.

Noah bent down, caught the basketball before it rolled too far, and turned it in his hands once before tossing it gently back.

“Hey, kids,” he said, one corner of his mouth lifting.

“Thanks!” Miles caught it clumsily, grinning.

Theo squinted up at Noah, suddenly curious. “Was that your girlfriend?”

Noah blinked. “What?”

“That girl,” Miles said, coming closer, “The one who came by last week, asking for you. Looking like she was on a secret mission.”

Noah chuckled softly. “No, she’s not my girlfriend. We… just kinda know each other.” He shrugged.

Miles exchanged a quick glance with Theo, then grinned. “She was pretty, though. You know.”

Noah laughed again, shaking his head. “That doesn’t change anything.”

“Would you want her to be your girlfriend?” Theo insisted.

“Why don't you two go back to playing ball?” He said in a way that let them know he wasn't actually mad.

Theo stuck out his tongue but didn’t move. “Because you’re our friend, Noah. We like talking to our friends.”

Noah’s smile softened as he looked at them, and he took a small step closer to Theo, he reached out and ruffled the younger boy’s hair, messing it up.

“You guys are my friends too,” he said, “But she’s still not my girlfriend.”

Theo grinned, shaking his head as he fixed his hair, like a little dog.

“Does she live around here?” The kid asked.

Noah shook his head. “Nope. She lives in the city.”

“Oh, that’s cool!” Miles said.

“And she came all the way out here for you. Maybe she likes you!” his brother added.

Noah rolled his eyes. “She lives in the city. With her boyfriend.”

Miles let out a groan of disappointment. “Aw, no!”

“Maybe she’ll break up with him.” Said Theo.

“I really don’t think that’s gonna happen. I'm sorry, kids.”

Just as the boys were turning to run back toward their game, a sharp voice rang out across the street.

“Miles! Theo!”

They all turned their heads in unison. Standing in the doorway of a small brick rowhouse just a few doors down was their mother, one hand braced on the frame, the other resting on her hip. Her apron was dusted with flour, and she had that specific tone that meant playtime was over.

“That’s enough, boys! Homework time. I don’t want to come out there again!”

Theo let out a groan. Miles dragged his feet a little, bouncing the basketball one more time, reluctantly.

“She always catches us at the best part,” Miles muttered under his breath.

Noah grinned. “You heard her. Better listen to your mom.”

Miles sighed, then called over his shoulder, “Okay, we’re coming!”

Their mother spotted Noah then and lifted a hand in greeting, as she gave him a small smile. He lifted his hand back in return, a little wave of acknowledgment.

As the boys started trudging back toward the house, Theo paused and looked over his shoulder.

“Hey, Noah?”

“Yeah?”

“Next time, can we come over and punch the big bag again?”

“Maybe,” he said, shifting the grocery bag on his shoulder. “But only if you actually do your homework today. Like, really do it.”

Theo squinted. “Even the math?”

“Especially the math.”

Miles groaned again. “Ugh, you sound just like our mom.”

Noah laughed. “That means I’m getting wiser. Now go, before she really comes out here with a slipper.”

The boys took off in a run, jostling each other as they scrambled up the front steps of their house. Their mom gave them both a light smack on the shoulder as they passed, more affectionate than stern.

Noah lingered for a second, watching them go in, the door swinging shut behind them. The street quieted again, he just smiled to himself, and kept walking.

You were wiping down the last of the counters and fixing some artwork that was not in the right place, closing time approaching.

Nick stepped out from the back room, where he kept some tools, pulling off his gloves and tossing them into the trash.

“Hey,” he said, “did your friend like the butterfly?”

You looked up from where you were stacking ink bottles. “Oh yeah. She loved it. I think she posted, like, five hundred pictures on her stories.”

Nick laughed, grabbing his hoodie from the hook near the door. “I know. She tagged the shop in every single one of them.”

"Well, that girl has a lot of followers. Maybe she gave you free advertising."

"In that case, I'm glad she posted so much about it." He said with a smile, then looked at the clock on the wall. “Listen. Think it’s cool if I head out a bit early? We’re done for the day, and you’ve pretty much got the place spotless already.”

You gave him a nod. “Yeah, of course, no worries. I’ll finish up and close.”

“Seriously, thanks. I owe you one.”

You waved him off. “Just go before you fall asleep while driving.”

Nick laughed again, zipping up his hoodie. “You're the best! Have a nice evening!”

The door jingled as he stepped out, letting in a quick gust of cooler air, and then it clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone.

You went back to wiping down the last chair, checking the needle disposal bin, straightening a few art prints on the wall that had been slightly knocked down by the day’s traffic.

Your eyes landed on a specific corner of the wall.

A few days ago, after Nick had caught a glimpse of one of your sketches when your notebook hit the floor, he had asked you to see more.

You didn’t expect what came next. He told you they were beautiful, different in a way that would stand out, and that someone, probably more than someone, would want them on their skin. Then he offered to clear a spot on the wall and hang a few.

You hadn’t known what to say at first. You weren’t even sure your work belonged up there. But you’d said yes.

Now that section of the wall held your designs: a crescent moon tangled in lavender, a dagger wrapped in ivy and thread, a black cat mid-stretch, its tail curling like a question mark, a skeletal hand holding a blooming peony, a moth with eyes on its wings, a pair of koi fish circling in opposite directions.

You still thought they weren't that special. But they were yours. And now they lived here, in this space where people came to choose what they wanted to carry forever.

Seeing them on the wall still felt a little unreal. But it also felt good.

Outside, the sky was burning into that deep orange-violet that always made the city look absolutely beautiful. The front windows glowed softly with it, throwing reflections of the hanging flash art onto the tiled floor.

You were reaching for your jacket, keys already in hand, when you heard the soft jingle of the front door swinging open. You didn’t even look up at first.

“Sorry, we’re closed. If you want to book a consultation you can—”

You turned as you spoke, and stopped mid-sentence.

It was Noah.

The words evaporated off your tongue, replaced by an involuntary smile. He stood just inside the doorway, the hood of his sweatshirt still up. He pulled it back as the door closed behind him, brushing a hand through his hair, trying to smooth it down.

“Damn,” he said, brow arched. “I gotta have an appointment just to have a conversation with you now?”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. “Noah, what are you doing here?”

“Can’t I just drop by because I wanted to say hi to you?” he asked. “The place you work at sounded pretty cool when you told me about it. I wanted to check it out.”

You smiled, folding your arms as you leaned back against the counter. He wanted to say hi to you. “So, verdict?”

He glanced around. “Yeah, it’s very cool. Way better than some of the places where I got my tattos. I got one of them in the back of an Indian restaurant, once. The artist was great, but I smelled like curry for a week.”

You laughed, shaking your head.

He sat down on the stool across from you, resting his elbows on the counter. That’s when you noticed his knuckles, scraped and a little swollen.

You nodded toward his hands. “Did you at least win this time?”

He nodded, slowly. “Yeah. Covered my groceries for the week. A lot of pre-cooked chicken and sad pasta salad.”

“Definitely better than the stuff Kole tries to cook sometimes.”

Noah snorted. “Is he still alive? Or did he finally drink himself into a coma?”

You shot him a look, even though you were already trying not to laugh. “Noah.”

“What?” he said, raising his hands like he was innocent. “Last time I saw him, he looked two beers from it.”

You rolled your eyes. “He’s fine. Nothing an aspirin and a day at home couldn't fix.”

“Impressive,” Noah said, leaning forward a bit.

Noah glanced past you, his eyes landing on the display wall behind the counter. His expression shifted, brows lifting slightly, mouth tilting with something like surprise.

“Those are cool,” he said, nodding toward the framed flash art. “Really cool.”

“Thanks,” you replied, almost on instinct.

But then he looked at you more closely, like something had clicked. “Wait...did you make those?”

You hesitated for half a second, then nodded. “Yeah.”

“No way!” He leaned back slightly, clearly impressed. “You didn't tell me you could draw.”

You shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. “It never came up, I guess.”

Noah stood, walking over to the wall to get a better look. He tilted his head, taking his time with each piece.

“These are sick.”

You smiled, warmth creeping up your neck. “I didn’t think they were anything special. Nick made me put some up.”

“Well, Nick was right,” he said, still facing the wall. “I’d get one of these tattooed. Easy.”

You laughed softly. “You’re just saying that.”

“No,” he said, turning back toward you. “I’m really not. You should draw more,” he added. “Seriously. I mean it.”

You wondered if he would’ve said the same thing if he’d seen the pages of your sketchbook, pages filled with his face, his bruised hands, all the details you couldn’t seem to stop drawing.

You thought you'd rather die than let him see them.

You didn’t say anything for a moment as watched him, standing in the fading orange light, surrounded by your own art. It felt so right. And you couldn’t help but think he was so beautiful.

You cleared your throat. “I was just about to close up, I—”

Noah turned to you quickly. “Oh, yeah. Of course. I’ll get out of your way. You probably wanna go home and crash or whatever, long day and all.”

You looked at him for a second, heart tapping a little faster than it should have. “No. You don’t have to leave.”

He looked at you, trying to understand.

“It’s still kinda early,” you added. “And Kole’s not gonna be home for a while anyway.”

Noah blinked. “You sure? I can go.”

Dumbass. I don't want you to.

“Yeah. Come with me. There’s something I’ve been meaning to try.”

That made him pause, uncertain. “Try?”

You smiled, locking the register and grabbing your bag. “You’ll see.”

He followed, curious now, his expression both amused and confused as you shut off the lights, twisted the key in the lock, and stepped out into the dusky orange haze that had settled over the city.

The parking lot was mostly empty. Sunset reflecting over the glass windows of the few cars there.

“This is how horror movies start,” Noah said, pretending to be suspicious, as he adjusted the sleeves of his hoodie. “Girl says ‘Come with me,’ guy follows without asking questions. Next thing you know...boom. Missing persons poster. Not that anyone would actually care if this really happened.”

You stopped walking for half a second, just enough to glance at him. The way he said it, lightly, like a joke, didn't change its meaning.

“Don’t say that.”

He looked at you, almost like you caught off guard. “What?”

“You know what,” you said, serious this time. “Don’t say stuff like that. I’d care.”

Noah blinked, like he hadn’t expected you to respond at all, let alone seriously.

“Not if you’re the one who murdered me in a tattoo shop parking lot,” he said, trying to keep the tone playful.

Eventually, you let out a little laugh, because it was easier. But the way he said it still hurt you.

Like he didn’t mean anything. Like he truly believed he was disposable.

He kept following you.

"You gonna tell me where we're going?" he asked.

You gave him a sideways glance, your expression just shy of smug. “Just wait. You’ll see.”

You crossed the street and reached the curb on the other side of the road, and then you felt it.

Noah’s hand, light but firm, curled around your forearm for just a second. He didn’t say a word. Just guided you gently to the inside of the sidewalk, placing himself between you and the quiet late evening traffic.

It happened so quickly, so naturally, you almost didn’t have time to register it. You glanced at him, but he didn’t meet your eyes, and he was already looking ahead.

But your heart was doing something it definitely wasn’t doing before.

And your mind was thinking that that little gesture was something that Kole never did.

You reached the edge of the sidewalk and came to a slow stop. You stood still for a second, and Noah slowed beside you, glancing around like he was trying to guess the next move.

You turned toward the small grocery store on the corner, one with a flickering neon in the window and hand-written signs taped to the door.

Noah looked at it, then looked back at you. “…This our destination?”

You smiled, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “Not exactly. Can you wait here for a few minutes?”

He blinked. “Uh. Yeah. Sure.”

“I’ll be quick.”

He leaned back against the wall without question, hands in the pockets of his hoodie, and nodded once. “I’ll be right here.”

You pushed through. Inside, the air was cooler and it smelled like a mix of all the food they sold there.

You found the pickles first, then the jar of peanut butter. The bread took longer, Noah hadn’t said what kind, and you stood staring at a few options until you just picked the one that looked closest to what a grandmother might buy. Fresh and soft, but with a cruncher crust.

At the last second, you grabbed a small, cheap plastic knife from near the deli counter, because you needed something to cut the bread and pickles.

Unexpectedly, the cashier didn’t even look at you funny.

When you stepped outside again, Noah was exactly where you left him, leaned back against the brick, one foot braced against the wall, head tilted toward the darkening sky like he’d been watching the clouds shift.

He straightened when he saw you, eyes immediately dropping to the grocery bag in your hand. Then they landed on the knife, partially visible.

“Ah! I knew you were gonna kill—”

He stopped mid-sentence as the bag shifted in your hand and the rest of the contents became visible: a loaf of white bread, a jar of peanut butter, and a jar of pickles.

His voice caught. The grin faded, just a fraction, and he blinked like something in him had gone soft all at once.

“…me.” he finished, barely above a whisper.

You held his gaze and smiled. “What?”

Noah’s eyes flicked from your face back to the bag, his posture subtly shifting like he didn’t quite know what to do with the warmth rising in his chest.

"Why’d you buy that?”

“Because you said it was your favorite,” you said simply. “You told me your grandma used to make it. And that you missed it.”

His lips parted slightly. You could tell he didn’t know what to do with that. Because he wasn't used to things like that.

You wondered how he could be so sure that he wasn't a good person, that he didn't deserve to stop fighting, to have a real job, a real house. How he could hate himself so much when his expression became so soft just by looking at the ingredients of a sandwich.

“I remember you said it sounded gross,” he said.

“It did,” you agreed, “but I still want to try it.”

“…Why?”

“Because…” You hesitated. Then shrugged. "Sometimes I want to try new things. Just because they look bad doesn’t mean they are."

Noah stared at you for a long second. There was something incredibly soft in his face now.

For a moment you just wanted to hug him. Tell him he wasn't alone, and if he had been, he wasn't anymore. That you cared. That you bought all that stupid things for him because you cared and hoped to make him happy with them.

He looked down, ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Jesus,” he muttered, not at you, more at himself.

You stayed in silence for a moment. Then bumped his arm with yours.

“C’mon,” you said, lifting the bag slightly. “Let’s find a place to test this culinary masterpiece.”

That earned you a breath of laughter.

“Lead the way.” he said.

You and Noah made your way back to the parking lot as the sky started growing darker.

There was a low concrete ledge near the edge of the lot, probably part of an old loading dock, just high enough to be a little hard to climb onto but perfect to sit, chat and eat for a while. Noah got there first and pulled himself up with a soft grunt, the soles of his shoes scraping against the cement. Once settled, he turned and offered you his hand without a word.

You looked at it for a second, then at him and you took it. It was warm, a little rough from old bruises and healing cuts, but his grip was careful as he helped pull you up beside him.

It was such a small thing, but you liked having his hand in yours, even if just for a moment.

You sat down next to him, and he leaned back on his hands, long legs stretched out in front of him. You pulled the brown paper bag into your lap and started unpacking everything.

“I wasn’t sure what kind of bread you meant,” you said.

“It's perfect.” he answered immediately.

You started slicing into it. “And important question: pickles. Slices or strips?”

Noah shrugged. “It’s not that deep.”

“No, come on. I want to make it the right way.”

He exhaled, giving in. “Slices.”

“Good,” you said, fishing a few out onto a napkin. “Because I don’t think I even know how to cut them into strips.”

He let out little laugh.

You kept working on the sandwiches, careful with the knife, placing each ingredient with quiet precision. You felt his gaze on you before you saw it. You glanced over, catching the way he was watching you.

“What?” you asked.

Noah blinked. “Nothing.”

You gave him a look. “Noah.”

“What?”

“Tell me.”

He hesitated, starting playing with the hem of his hoodie. Then he said, a little quieter, “It’s just… this is probably the sweetest thing someone’s done for me in a long time.”

Your fingers paused for a moment on the bread. That ache again, low in your ribs.

You didn’t know what to say, exactly. So you handed him a sandwich.

“Well,” you said, keeping your voice soft, “your grandma gets the credit. I’m just copying.”

He took the sandwich from your hands and looked at it for a second before glancing back at you. Then he took a bite.

You watched him chew. In your head, you could almost picture a younger version of him, swinging his legs under a kitchen table, grinning and waiting for his little sandwich. It was a strangely vivid image, and it made your chest feel weird.

While you waited for his verdict, you took a bite of yours.

“So?” You asked.

He gave a slow nod. “It’s perfect.”

“You already said that about the bread,” you pointed out.

“That’s because it is,” he replied. “It’s exactly how she used to make it.”

You took another bite and before you could say anything else, he was smirking at you.

“That’s your second bite,” he said, nodding at your sandwich.

You glanced down. “So?”

“So, that means you like it.”

“Actually, it’s kinda disgusting,” then added, “but I’m starving.”

He laughed again. And every time you managed to pull a laugh from him like that, it felt like a win.

It felt like the city went quiet around you. It was just the two of you on an old slab of concrete, eating weird childhood food under a sky that was slowly turning dark enough for you to see a couple of stars.

You took another bite. And maybe… it really didn’t taste so bad after all.

You stayed there a while longer. Long enough for Noah to eat not one, but two more sandwiches.

He just casually reached for the jar of pickles again while you were mid-sentence, and you didn’t stop him. You kept talking while you started spreading the peanut butter on a slice for him, and you let him cut the pickles after.

You found yourself talking more than you normally would, and he listened more than most people ever had. There was always something about the way he looked at you when you spoke, like nothing you said was boring, like he was hearing all of it and would remember every word.

At one point, you nodded toward the other side of the street.

“That record shop over there? The one with the neon sign half-burned out?”

Noah turned to follow your gaze.

“They’ve got a bunch of old vinyls and music gear. I’ve been a couple of times with my best friend. She left me in the metal section for like an hour and went off to search through Harry Styles stuff.”

Noah gave a short laugh. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I swear, she could spend hours just flipping through vinyls with his face on them. Meanwhile, I made friends with this Jolly guy behind the counter. He's funny and I ended up talking to him for like two hours while she hunted down some limited edition single or something. We ended up talking about tattoos, and I told him I work at the tattoo shop across the street. From that day on, he got all his tattoos done by Nick. You would like him, I think."

He nodded and kept chewing on his sandwich, reminding you of a squirrel, in some way.

You pointed again, down the road this time. “Folio’s got a mechanic shop down there. Took my car in once when it stopped working. Turned out a cat peed on the engine or something. He also got some tattoos by Nick.”

Time passed, and you stayed there until the sky turned fully dark and the moon was hanging high above. You didn’t really want to leave. It felt good, just being there with him. Even though you knew Kole was probably already home by now.

You found yourself watching the way his Adam’s apple moved when he spoke, not too prominent, but there, shifting slightly with every word and making the tattoos on his neck seem to come alive.

“It’s kind of weird I’ve never lost a tooth,” he said at some point.

You raised an eyebrow.

“I mean, with all the punches I’ve taken over the years, you’d think at least one would’ve gone flying. A molar. Something. But nope. Still all intact.”

“Ouch.” you muttered under your breath, wincing at the mental image.

He smirked. “I always figured it was just a matter of time. Or that maybe I’d at least fix these bunny teeth or something.”

“Bunny teeth?” you echoed, laughing.

“Yeah,” he said, “These two front ones.” He reached up and ran the pad of his thumb lightly across them. “Thought for sure I’d take a hit bad enough to chip them a bit. Honestly, I even kind of hoped for it. These things are way too long.”

You smiled shaking your head, and for a second, you caught yourself watching the movement of his mouth more than you should’ve, how his teeth showed just slightly when he laughed.

They were kinda cute, actually. You didn’t say it.

Eventually, you both had to go.

He hopped down first and, like before, offered you his hand to help you down. You took it.

“Thanks.” You murmured.

He pointed toward a car parked not far from yours. “That’s mine for the night. Well, technically not mine. Borrowed it from the kids’ mom.”

You said goodbye.

"Thank you for... you know. Everything." He said.

"Anytime."

And you meant it.

You would have done it again as many times as he wanted.

He said "see you soon" and you hoped you were actually going to see him soon.

It was only once you got into your car, that you noticed your phone screen lighting up. One missed call. Three messages from Kole.

The house was quiet when you walked in. You dropped your keys onto the table by the door and hung your bag.

Kole was in the living room, standing halfway between the couch and the hallway, arms crossed. You didn’t even have time to take off your jacket before his voice cut through the silence.

“Where were you?” he asked. “It’s late. You never get off work this late. I thought something happened.”

You paused, blinked, let the door click shut behind you.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I didn’t see your texts.”

He didn’t respond, just stared, waiting for more.

You exhaled slowly. “Noah stopped by. You know, Noah? From the fight club?” You tried to keep your voice even and casual, like it really was nothing.

Because it was nothing.

Right?

“He just came by to say hi. We started talking, and I lost track of time. That’s all.”

His eyes narrowed. “Noah?” A beat. “Sebastian?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

He didn’t say anything for a second. Then just: “Hm.”

You were about to say something else when he finally looked up again.

“Are you cheating on me?”

“What?” you said. “No. Of course not.”

He stared at you, unmoving. “You sure?”

“Kole,” you said, taking a step forward, trying to catch his gaze, “please. I’m not cheating on you.”

He didn’t answer right away. Just ran a hand over his face. Finally, he muttered, “Okay.”

That was it. Just okay.

You stood there in the middle of the room, your jacket still on, your heart still racing, as he walked to the bedroom.

And it was true. You weren’t cheating on him. You hadn’t crossed any lines. You and Noah hadn’t even touched if not for your hands when he helped you up and down the concrete ledge.

But you had smiled more in one hour with Noah than you had in days at home. You had laughed. And you had felt a weird feeling in your stomach, a good weird feeling. Mostly when he smiled. When he thanked you. When he looked at you with his pretty brown eyes a moment longer.

You weren’t cheating. But still...

Is it cheating if your heart goes to someone else?

You stood in the dim light, alone now, and for the first time in a while, you weren’t entirely sure what the truth was anymore. Or what you were supposed to do now.

Noah hadn’t expected much when he drove over. Hell, he’d almost turned back twice. 

He wasn’t even sure why he was doing it. He just really wanted to see you again.

He had told himself you’d tell him to leave, for sure. That it was late, that you had to close up and head home. That maybe he was being inappropriate, overstepping.

So he was almost surprised when you didn’t.

And he was definitely surprised when you ended up buying the ingredients for his stupid sandwich.

You had listened when he told you. And you had cared enough to give it to him.

It was such a small thing, eating weird sandwiches in a quiet parking lot in front of a tattoo shop and chatting, but to him, it had felt like the closest thing to peace he’d had in a long time.

You’d made him laugh. You were probably the only person on earth able to make him do that, right now.

So, it had been a good day. Better than he could ever imagine. He also had the chance to hold your hand a couple of times, even if he wasn't really holding it.

But that didn’t mean anything, not really. Not once the sun went down.

Because nights were different.

And when Noah closed his eyes, laying on his mattress, the dark didn’t stay empty.

Because there’s a field.

There's always a field.

Endless. Silent. He’s driven for hours to get there, through roads that twisted and disappeared behind him. He’s alone, and he made sure of it. No one knows he’s there. That’s the point.

The moon is high, but everything is dim, grainy like an old film.

He can't breathe.

He feels like he's drowning.

He is kneeling on the dry grass.

There’s a weight in his hand, metal, cold, pressing into his skin. His arms are shaking. Tears streak across his face.

It's all his fault. He will never forgive himself.

No one’s around. No one can hear.

A sob comes out, then another, until he’s bent forward and his shoulders are violently shaking.

He folds in on himself, curls down to the ground like his body is trying to disappear into the earth. The grass scratches at his skin, but he doesn’t feel it.

He cries. Loud.

He cries until his voice is hoarse, until his chest feels like it’s being crushed by some invisible hand.

He cries until the sky begins to change, shifting from black to bruised purple to soft, aching blue.

He can't stop.

The nausea comes next. His stomach turns. His head throbs. His eyes burn.

The sun is high now. It’s morning.

He forces himself to get up, to stand on legs that barely hold him.

He turns once, just once, to look back at the field. At what he’s leaving behind.

A part of himself, probably.

He stumbles to the car. The door creaks. The seat is cold.

He grips the steering wheel.

His hands are shaking.

His hands are covered in blood.

And he can’t stop crying.

Noah woke up drenched in sweat. He wasn’t crying, but he was shaking, and not just because the nights there were always cold.

He sat up on the mattress, his breathing shallow. Alpine, who’d been curled up on his chest, stirred with a soft meow, slipping off his legs and stumbling groggily to his side. The cat settled there again, pressing close like she knew.

Noah stayed still for a moment, elbows on his knees, head resting in his hands. His fingers curled against his temples. He focused on breathing in, out, in, out.

It was just a nightmare.

Except it wasn’t.

It never was.

It was a memory. It really happened. He let it happen.

Outside, it was still dark, but he knew he wouldn’t be sleeping again that night.

There was no point in trying.

Quietly, he stood. Wrapped his hands, tight.

He crossed the room and reached the punching bag.

Then he started hitting.

Tags: @anything-more-than-human @ladyveronikawrites @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @fadingangelwisp @xmads-omensx @iwasntstable @thisbicc @pathion @flowery-mess @into-the-grey @lacy1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @stardustsirenmelody @thewrstinme @hurricanesfollowyou @ichoosetenderomens @chey-h @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @missduffsblog @pandora-08 @geminigirlfromfinland @bloody-spades @rumoured-whispers @astronoids

Fresh bruises tags: @1toreyouapart @respectfulrebel @dragoncopper @overmydeadbodysblog @fear-its-beauty @xslavicprincess @concreteangel92 @super-btstrash-posts @pipidoll @pipidoll @bluehairpunklol @tktstomydwnfall @jesuisunchaton @brutallysoftmuse @acatatonicpeace @spookieolson

[rosietoesy]

Fever Pitch

Summary: After what happened at Graduation, Wally wanted to make sure you were okay.

Wally Clark x Reader 18+ MDNI

CW: Fluff and smut with a smidgen of angst, unprotected sex, cream pies.

A/N: Thank you, @whoopsyeahokay, for letting me bounce ideas off of you for this. Depending on how well this fic does, there is a possible backstory fic on the reader.

Wally was searching all over the school to try and find you. After what he witnessed at the graduation ceremony. He couldn't believe that they had skipped you during the in memoriam section of the ceremony before they started calling the names of the graduates. His excitement turned into anger. He couldn't believe that happened, in his seat in the 1950's gymnasium of the upper part of the bleachers, he turned to where he saw you sitting, he was going to offer you comfort, but he failed to notice that you were already gone.

He checked almost everywhere in the school, classrooms, library, and cafeteria. He even went to check the dark room in the photography classroom, but no luck. Then it hit him, there was only one other place that he could possibly check to see if you were there, but he wasn't too sure because who really wants to go back to the place where you died? He exited the school & made his way over to the baseball field. He could make out a blob of a shadow as he was walking to it, but once he got closer to the diamond. He recognized you were there, laying out in the outfield near the area where you died. He noticed that you were looking up at the stars in the sky.

He debated if he wanted to approach you or give you space. Ultimately, he decided to approach you carefully without scaring you. You heard footsteps by your head and didn't look behind you to acknowledge the person there. Wally shifted the weight of his feet and was biting his tongue on what to say. You were getting irritated at whoever was standing there was just staring at you. You get ready to open your mouth to tell them to fuck off, only to have Wally beat you to speaking first. “Mind if I joined you?” He asked. You really didn't want anyone to join you or give you pity. You closed your eyes, not saying anything. In your head you were really pondering over whether or not you should accept his offer. With the silence so long, you thought he would have left by now. But with you opening your eyes and glancing behind your head. You saw his feet still there. “Fine.” You replied agitated and Wally took that as a small victory and laid right next to you on the ground. Again, silence filled between y'all and it was nice but also suffocating. After what felt like forever Wally asked “Are you okay?” Sure it seemed silly to ask that since you're both dead and trapped in the school, but he didn't know how much of the ceremony you saw. “I'm doing okay as much as I can while being dead.” You answered. “How much of the ceremony did you see?” He wondered, just wanting to be sure how to proceed forward. You chuckled “I left before they started memoriam. Who wants to hear about a nobody after listening to the life of a star football player?” His expression changed to sadness and his heart broke for you. “I do.” He said. “Yeah, right.” You laughed back in response. He turned to face you and gently reached out to you to turn you to face him as he spoke, he wanted you to see the seriousness in his eyes and face when he said the next thing he was going to. “I'm serious, I really do want to know about you. I've always noticed you since Sophomore year.” He paused to gather his thoughts and you looked at him with confusion on your face. “Ever since the first football game of sophomore year, I noticed you right away. You've been to every football game not missing one except one time during junior year.” He quietly spoke. You really stared at him hard. “You noticed me?” you questioned. “Of course, I did.” He chuckled. “ I thought you were the most beautiful girl in our year back then, still do actually.” He said so casually.

Heat crept on your cheeks or what you thought was heat, you weren't so sure with this whole being dead thing. Soft conversations followed between you after that. Just talking about everything and nothing. Wally noticed some of your hair fell in front of your eyes when you threw your head back in laughter. He moved closer to you and tucked that piece of hair behind your ear. It was definitely heat alright that you felt radiate from Wally's hands being in close proximity. His eyes were locked on yours, and his movement paused. His baby brown cow eyes glanced down to your lips and back to your eyes several times. Trembling in his hold as the warm Wisconsin winds blew over, yeah. You both were slowly moving towards each other and with your lips barely touching. Wally breathes out “Can I kiss you?” Your breath hitches, and you close the space between you. Too afraid of what your voice would sound like. The kiss was everything and more. Slow at first but rapidly gaining speed.

You both separate from each other to catch your breath. It was silent again, but the good kind. Foreheads resting against each other and trying to regulate your breathing. Once you both were at a relaxed pace, he carefully lifted his forehead from yours just so he could look into your eyes. In a husky voice, Wally spoke, “ Wow, that was amazing.” You chuckled and rolled your eyes at him. With that, he pulls you closer to him. Chest to chest, body to body . You gasped at his boldness. He nuzzles his nose into your cheek and lets out a whine “ Please, let me celebrate your accomplishment?” His hips started to roll into yours. You glanced at him, confused about what in the hell he's talking about. Until you remember what tonight actually was. “Don't you mean our accomplishment?” You said while cupping his cheeks in your hand and giving it a gentle but firm squeeze. Wally's eyes flickered shut, & a deep moan left his lips at that.

He had to have you and vice versa. You climbed on top of him, straddling him. Your hands went under your dress, lifting it up and over your head. Wally's eyes widen and another groan left his lips “Fuck!” He couldn't believe that he had the girl he admired since Sophomore year on top of him in only your panties. His hands flew to your hips and gave it a gentle squeeze. In a mocking tone you asked “Ya gonna take off your top big guy?” with a roll of your hips against his. He nodded his head so fast and removed his hands from your hips to lift his shirt over his head. He carefully maneuvered you further down his lap so he could sit up and take off his shirt.

Once his shirt was off, he laid back down and moved you back to where you were straddling him. Your nails run down his chest and stomach, leaving faint marks in its wake. Goosebumps broke out on his arms, and a soft whimper followed. Sliding further down his legs so you could unbutton his slacks. Slowly and painfully removing them off him, just leaving him in his boxers now. Wally's body jolted in surprise when he felt you leaving open mouth kisses down his v-line of hips. His breathing was coming in shallow and stuttering. He honestly couldn't believe that this was happening to him. It didn't seem real to him. It seemed like another dream he was having about you. It wasn't until he felt your fingers wrap around the waistband of his boxers and pulling them down that this was not, in fact, a dream, but reality. A gasp left your lips as you his is cock spring up from the confines of his boxers and hitting his stomach. Wally's face instantly warmed and could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks and ears.

Making your way back up his body and one hand wrapped around his cock. Softly stroking him while you leaned down and captured his lips with yours. He felt like he was in heaven, his hands went around your waist pulling you closer to him. “Wally?” You whispered. He grunted in reply, waiting to hear what you have to say to him. “Can I ride you, Mr. Graduate?” You asked. Wally whined and replied “Yes, absolutely yes.” You carefully sat up right and leaned back on to Wally, pulling off your panties. “Holy fuck.” He moaned out, getting a perfect view of your pussy on display for him. You kept your legs opened just for a little longer, giving him a great view of your pussy.

You delicately maneuvered yourself to a hovering position. One hand grasps his cock, while the other is placed on his leg to provide balance. You run his tip between the folds of your pussy, letting it get wet from you. Sighs and moans flew from both of your lips and it wasn't until his tip caught on to the entrance of your pussy that you decided enough was enough and stunk down on him. A loud drawn out moan from both of you leaves your body. You paused just for a short moment to adjust to his size. Once you felt comfortable you did an experimental roll of your hips. A moan left Wally's lips and his hands made it back to your hips. Taking that as a sign to move forward, you began to bounce on his cock. Moans left both of your lips wildly into the starry night.

You started speeding up to help further along the process of getting closer to cum. His hands took on a harsher grip to your hips which pulled you into a stop. Pouting down at him a little confused “Why did you stop?” You asked. He didn't answer, instead he moved his legs into a bent up right position making sure to plant his feet in the ground. He had a harder grip on your hips and began to harshly bucking up into you so that way you both could cum faster. The change of position and speed was absolutely need and sending you closer to the edge as possible. The tip of his cock kept hitting your g-spot over and over again. “Wally, I'm so fucking close.” You whined to him. He lifted one hand from your hip and moved it to work on your clit to help you fall off the edge so much faster. His finger was moving in rapid session and in time with his hips bucking into you.

You cry out his name while cumming and hitting your high. Wally himself was almost there and feeling your pussy squeezing down on him took him over the edge. He held you down on him and threw his head back a long, loud moan of your name ripped through his throat, while his cum spilled into you. Ragged breaths filled the atmosphere and Wally gently pulled you down on top of him. His arms wrapping around you and holding you close. Eventually, both of your breathing evened out, and his fingers were running down your back, calming you down from y'all highs.

A barely audible thank you left your lips. “What?” Wally asked. “Thank you.” You repeated breathlessly. Wally was confused and asked “For?” “Obviously for mind altering sex.” You giggled out, and Wally squeezed your sides in response to your silliness. “In all seriousness, though, thank you for checking in on me.” You told him. “ Of course.” He replied by placing a kiss on your head. He held you closer so he lean over and reach for his letterman to wrap it around the both of you while you stayed in each other's arms for a little while longer under the stars on the baseball diamond.

[hwaslayer]

wildfire (cs) | fourteen.

—spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

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

—word count: 5.5k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing/mature language, mostly focused on namjoon again in his stressed with no rest era, oc tells her friends about everything, jiung x oc fighting, crying :(, oc has a pretty good talk with namjoon, things are just shifting/changing

—a/n: the next fic coming up after wildfire has been posted here! also if you haven't taken my poll, pls do so! hehe <33 i appreciate u

You lay back against the arm of the couch with your blanket sprawled on top, typing away the last bits of info into your presentation. You're a slide away from creating your acknowledgements slide and wrapping up the entire rotation update. You had gotten an email from both San and Namjoon stating that your rotation in San's lab was ending due to a change in your timeline and that you needed to present your rotation update to the both of them, along with the dean, in the following week. It scared you at first— and it still does now— but it's starting to make more sense as to why San did what he did. Namjoon sent you a side email asking if you could meet today because he wanted to discuss what was going on. He kept it vague. Short.

Maybe he was holding off until the meeting.

It's obvious who started all of this. It's not hard to tell.

But, you agreed to meet after TAing for Yunho— letting Namjoon know you'd be there as soon as class was over. He agreed to the time and sent you a reassuring message towards the end, telling you all would be well and that he'd help you figure things out no matter what.

It was reassuring, but it doesn't mean you weren't scared.

Anxious.

Nervous.

Doesn't mean any if this it hurt any less. Doesn't mean you weren't angry, upset, sad. You still needed to feel it out, especially being alone and going through this without anyone else to talk to about it.

You had Eunchae, Jurin and Felix. But, you wished you had Jiung to talk to. You wished you didn't feel hurt about him, too.

—FLASHBACK

"So, you two are seeing each other?" Jurin asks while she sits in front of you and holds onto your knee to give it a gentle rub. Eunchae sits next to you with her arm over your shoulder, also giving you a gentle caress, squeeze. Felix sits next to Jurin and he's got a look of concern, but sadness. You had finally opened up about everything between you and San; from how things started, the conferences, staying at his house, being with him—

To not.

Jiung keeps himself posted near your window because he doesn't really wanna hear more about it but he needs to— to understand the full story. Part of him also feels guilty for what he did hearing your cries and how awfully torn up you are over Professor Choi.

San.

He's gotta get used to you calling him San like that.

"Were." You shake your head and press the tissue against your nose to pat it dry. "It's done with now."

"But, why? Couldn't you guys just play it off?" 

"I'm sure he wanted to be safe, though." Felix adds softly. "I think I kinda see where he's coming from." He looks at you. "I don't think he meant to hurt you, but he's probably trying to protect you and keep everything safe in the meantime. Once this blows over—"

"I doubt we'd get back together."

"Don't say that. You never know, Y/N. I agree with Lix. He's probably just trying to do what's best for now even if it hurts him to. I'm sure he cares a lot about you. I mean heck, he almost fucked up Hae-jin in front of everyone." You sigh and look down at your hands, the feeling of sadness and emptiness all consuming. 

"He does." Eunchae adds to Jurin's reassurance. "I don't know why Professor Lee and Professor Jeong think it's their business, though. Haven't they done enough damage?"

"Awful. People literally can't mind their business, especially when it has nothing to do with them."

"I get the power dynamics but Professor Choi doesn't seem like the type. So, honestly, it's not like anyone was getting hurt in the process." Jiung silently fiddles with his hoodie string as Felix goes on.

"And people clearly don't know you if they assume you're the one throwing yourself on him." Jurin adds.

"Damn. Two people can't just be together?" Felix shakes his head. "Anyway, you got us, and this will pass. I'm sure Professor Kim will do everything to help and figure things out, too." You dig your face into your hands, trying to wipe away the remaining tears before you nod and smile at Lix in appreciation for his support, too. 

Still, you can't help but notice how Jiung has remained quiet this entire time— barely able to maintain eye contact with you.

"Should we go to dinner? Get some food in you?" Eunchae gives you a small smile and giggle. You nod and stand with them, quickly checking your appearance in the mirror while the three start making their way out of your door.

"Can we talk for a second?"

"About?"

"I just have to tell you something. Probably shouldn't wait until after dinner."

"Um, okay?" You look at him, hands crossed over your chest in a vulnerable manner, doe-eyes peeking up at him as he lets out a hefty sigh. "What's on your mind?"

"Y/N, I'm sorry. I just wanna say I'm sorry and I hope you understand where I'm coming from. But—" He lets out another sigh before shaking his head, almost as if he were shaking his feelings off. Trying to tell himself he needs to say it. "I-I went to Professor Kim and told him about you and Professor Choi. I told him I thought you were being taken advantage of and that I was worried."

"What?" You can barely get out. "W-why would you do that?"

"I was really just worried and I wasn't sure how else to get to you. I-I thought Professor Kim would be able to help—"

"Jiung." You call his name and step back, not wanting to be in close proximity to him. You knew he was worried about you, but you didn't think he'd go off and talk to Namjoon about it right away. "Why would you do that? Why couldn't we just keep talking about it— why did you have to go and blow this up even more?!"

"I'm sorry, can you blame me?!—"

"You didn't have to go behind my fucking back and tell Professor Kim! I already told you it wasn't like that and you still told him it was?! What the actual hell, Jiung?"

"I was just worried about you! I was being your fucking bestfriend, trying to make sure you weren't hurt or anything."

"And then you made things worse. Are you happy?" You scoff. "Those assumptions could have really fucked up Professor Choi."

"What about you, Y/N? Why do you keep disregarding yourself?! Is that even healthy—"

"Healthy?! I'm telling you the truth!" You scoff. "And you don't know shit about me and him, so quit acting like you do." You throw your hands up in defeat because he'll never get it. "Forget it, okay? You'll never understand and I don't need you to."

"Hey, what's going on?" Felix pops his head in, confused at the ruckus going on behind doors. Truthfully, he heard everything just as he was approaching the door to check up on you, and he's not sure how to feel. It's hard. He feels like he's in the middle because he sees Jiung, he sees you.

"You guys can go off to dinner together, but I'll probably just stay behind." 

"But, Y/N—" Jiung adds in defeat.

"Why don't you and the girls go? We'll catch up later." Felix tugs him by the sleeve and gives him a look. "Give her some space." He mutters lowly just as he gets in close distance.

—END

Your alarm blares on the coffee table, a harsh reminder that you haven't really slept much. It was time to wrap up and get ready for Yunho's class— something you weren't entirely ready to tackle today either.

But, you get up anyway. 

You sigh and put on your brave face.

You throw on a simple sweater, jeans and your Sambas— dabbing a bit of mascara, brow gel and lip gloss to fix yourself up a tiny bit for the day. You were tired of feeling sad and dressing the part; the least you could do was finally get some fresh air and look decent enough for the world while coming out of your slump. You grab your things and pack up your bag, heading out of the door with your keys in hand.

Kinda sucks you won't be returning to San's lab.

Kinda sucks you won't be returning to San.

You let out a sigh and quietly walk over to the classroom in peace, keeping your head down for a majority of the time. 

Avoiding eye contact, avoiding anything having to do with the outside world in meantime.

"Hey!" Yunho says in his usual fashion. You give him a small smile, although you're not really sure why he's joining class yet again today. He had been joining your class in particular recently, and you knew why.

He just wanted to get under your skin.

"Hi." You respond, getting your laptop together. Yunho continues to watch you from where you're standing, noting the sadness that envelopes your entire body. The way you're avoiding him. The way it's so blatantly obvious that you know that he knows.

That Iseul is the reason why you're sad.

You don't say anything otherwise; keeping your head down and away from Yunho even while the class walks in. You continue to carry on with the last journal club of the class before giving everyone time to work on their final proposals before it's due at the end of the evening. A few people linger at the end of class to speak with you and Yunho to get your guidance on the last remaining bits of their proposals before they thank you for all your help and head out for the day.

You still haven't said a word to Yunho, and he can't help but ask:

"Is something wrong?" Yunho asks nonchalantly after class, looking at your figure even though you are avoiding eye contact with him while packing up your things.

"No."

"You don't have to lie to me."

"I don't know why you're asking if something is wrong when you know what it is already. Don't you?" You look at him plainly from the side before gathering the rest of your things.

"Whatever's been happening between you and San is between you and San—"

"So, was it you who told Professor Kim? Or was it Professor Lee?" You cut him off. Yunho stares at you, and he doesn't respond. Of course he won't, of course he won't throw Iseul under the bus even though you know she was behind it.

"It was for the best."

"Quite frankly, I don't think you can speak on what's best for me or him. Especially him." You look at Yunho directly in the eye. "Are you both that determined to bring San down? Is that what this?" He furrows his brows.

"Reel it in, Y/N." He says, sternly. "Do you not understand how damaging this could be for both you and him? If anything, it was done to protect you both."

"What makes you think we weren't capable of doing so?" Yunho lets out a pathetic chuckle before he steps forward and leans towards your ear, a small smirk on his lips.

"I think snuggling up on campus and sneaking into his office is enough of a reason." He pulls back, licking his lips before dipping his hands into his pocket.

"And I think you need to learn how to mind your own business and let San handle his own." You scoff. "In any case, Yunho." You look him in the eye. "You and Iseul already ruined him from the beginning and you can't come to terms with it." You tilt your head to the side. "You both were never deserving of San, and that is sad. No wonder you two are miserable and are still keeping tabs on him." Yunho's mouth slightly drops, but he doesn't respond to your statement. "I'll help out with finals if needed. Otherwise, please consider my TA assignment with you done."

You almost run into Iseul as you stomp out of the classroom, leaving her to knit her brows at you in response.

"Nice talk." Iseul pops in, her husband biting his cheek.

"We should have never gotten involved with that, Iseul." He says lowly as he gathers his things together.

"Oh, so just let them—"

"That's exactly it, just let them be." He cuts her off and looks at her. "It didn't have to be us. We could've just let them be and let anyone else do the talking. Let them learn on their own." His jaw ticks.

"We did the right thing." She crosses her arms.

"Still doesn't change the fact that you're taking the opportunity to destroy San and running with it. It didn't have to be us." He repeats, slinging his bag onto his shoulder.

"Yunho." She says. "You're not actually taking Y/N seriously, are you? She's delusional if she thinks all of this is okay and would've slipped."

"Don't call her delusional, Iseul. You have no say in their relationship or what they're about. You had no right. They knew what they were getting into. You just lead them into the trap for your own benefit." Yunho scoffs. "You wanted to see this unfold, didn't you? You wanted this to unfold in a specific way." 

"What is going on, Yunho?"

"We're not meddling in this anymore. If you're not ready to stop, count me out of it. I'm not doing this, I'm not picking at their business anymore." He grabs his things and takes the lead out of the room. Iseul scoffs and shakes her head, slowly trailing behind him.

As for you, you feel cold. You feel isolated. You feel empty. You walk out and find a hidden table behind the building and set yourself down to get yourself together. You let out a couple of breaths to ease your feelings, promising yourself you wouldn't cry over this anymore.

But, it hurts to hold it in.

It hurts.

You feel the dullness, the heavy ache, in the center of your chest, and it hurts.

You have to move on.

"Fuck." You sigh, hand over your chest to give it a few gentle rubs before you're back on your feet and checking the time. You need to see Professor Kim just like your promised.

Of course, as you're on your way to Professor Kim's office, you find San passing by with Yeosang and Jongho. His eyes land on you and you immediately break first, feeling the tears ready to well up in your eyes. He sees the way your head drops and how you turn away— he can't help but slightly turn over his shoulder to keep his eyes on you.

To lock eyes with you once more.

To feel.

But, it doesn't happen. And it fucks San up more than he expects because he doesn't know even know what Jongho and Yeosang are talking about anymore after that brief interception.

"Yo, you good?" Jongho taps his chest with a small chuckle, bringing San back to reality.

"Yeah. Sorry." He tries to play it off quickly but Jongho quickly turns over his shoulder to see you walking in the opposite direction.

"All good." He returns to San and gives his shoulder a small squeeze. "I'm sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about." San gives him a toothless smile. "Anyway, did you guys figure out where we're going before we make laps around campus?" Yeosang and Jongho share a quick look before they follow behind San and pick the conversation back up to prevent any of San's sadness from creeping up.

Meanwhile, you continue your way to Professor Kim's office, wiping away the stragglers that manage to escape your eyes and streak your cheeks. You weren't gonna let this get to you, so you quickly try to brush it off and get yourself together especially when you walk down the hallway and into Professor Kim's office. He's in his chair, typing away on his computer— glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose.

"Hey Y/N, come sit and make yourself comfortable." He smiles at you and you return the gesture, sitting down on the chair posted in front of his desk.

"Thanks for meeting with me today, Professor Kim."

"No, thank you." He chuckles and finally shifts his full attention towards you. "How are you today?"

"Uh, could be better but not complaining."

"Yeah? How was class with Professor Jeong?"

"Hm, okay." You hum before shifting in your seat nervously. 

"Just okay?" You nod. "Well, as long as there aren't any complaints or anything you wanna tell me." Namjoon knows you probably aren't having a great time in Yunho's class right now and he doesn't blame you.

"No." You force a smile. "Anyway, I see that I have to do my rotation presentation next week?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry, Y/N. You do understand why this is all happening, right?" You slowly nod. "I know you and San have been seeing each other, and I know he ended things the other day. I'm really sorry, but I just need to protect you both. Word is getting around fast and the dean isn't having it. I can't have him fire San, I can't have him kick you out of the grad program. Please just understand why things have to be this way. I just need it to settle."

"I do." You respond weakly before looking down at your hands. "I'm sorry for causing so much trouble, Professor Kim. I didn't mean— we didn't mean for this to blow up. I-I know we shouldn't have been so sloppy and reckless, and I'm sorry—"

"Hey, hey." He shakes his head with a sympathetic look. "No need to be sorry. I promise all is fine, and that's why I'm here to help and protect you both." You look at him with a sad nod, and you aren't sure why that's the tipping point for you but you suddenly start to break down in front of Professor Kim. He feels his heart breaks because he knows there wasn't any power play in this; he knows San as a person, and he's familiar with you as a student and the work you do. There was no way either of you used any power or position for your advantage. He knew this had been a genuine, real relationship— it's just truly unfortunate it had to unfold this way.

If word hadn't gotten around, maybe Namjoon wouldn't care at all. 

But, he has to now, and that's what makes everything hard about his role.

"I promise everything is going to be okay." He says softly.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—" Namjoon shakes his heas, watching the way you cry into your hands.

"Y/N, it's okay. You can let it out if you need to." He passes you the tissue box. "Can I ask you something? And be honest. I've already figured out your plan for school so you don't have to hold back." Namjoon says. "Do you care about him?" You nod as you continue to cry, the ache in your chest making it hard for you to breathe. 

You miss San.

"But, it doesn't matter because he ended it. It's over with."

"He only did so because of my guidance, and I'm sorry about that. I told him this too, but it's not something I wanted to do. Trust me. As his friend, it's the first time I've seen him genuinely and truly happy. It's all I wanted after the things he's gone through. But, I just can't risk it right now. San is beginning to reach new heights with his career and getting more real estate to do things he's been wanting to do with Jongho. You're also just getting into the groove of things. I don't want either of your hard work to get snatched away over something like this."

"No, I know Professor Kim. I do understand and I'm grateful. It just sucks. I don't know how else we would've gotten away with it, I guess." You sniff. "Maybe it had to happen."

"Look, I told him this, too. But, I can't police every detail and tell you who you can and can't date. If San is someone you care about, then so be it, but the only thing I ask of you is to keep it off campus. I cannot have you two interacting on campus or else he's out. Not by my choice, but the committee."

"I don't want anything to happen to him."

"I know, and he said the same thing about you. He cares just as much, so don't think that he doesn't." You dab your face with the napkin and nod.

"Jiung confessed and told me he came to you about it." Namjoon nods.

"I think he was just worried as your friend. Rightfully so. But, I think he also shouldn't have jumped to those conclusions right away."

"I told him that."

"If I hadn't known San so well, I probably would've believed Jiung." He sighs. "It's alright, he didn't know and he was worried. Are you two okay?"

"Not really, but I think we just need time. I'm trying to see his side of things, but I also didn't think he'd do that so it caught me off guard."

"I see. Well. Give yourself some time and grace, okay? I'm sorry it had to be this way for now." You give him a tiny, toothless smile. Eyes still shiny and watery from the crying you've just done. 

I'm sorry it had to be this way for now.

It repeats in your head over and over again because why does it feel like this is just how it's gonna be? Despite Namjoon reassuring you, despite San's explanation. Why does it just feel like a fleeting moment? A chapter in your book— a part that was never really supposed to last.

"Thank you." He gives you a smile.

"So, shifting to the program. I was thinking I could pull you into my lab and we can figure out things as time goes on? Explore other options if there's anything else you'd wanna explore." You nod. "You know there's other paths we can look into, or if you're totally fine with where you're at in my lab, then we can just stick with that plan."

"That sounds good. Thank you, Professor Kim."

"Unfortunately, like I mentioned, I can't have you interacting with Professor Choi. I'll have to make sure you don't take any of his classes or end up in any collaboration projects with him." You nod.

"Okay. I understand." 

"You'll have to halt all your work in his lab immediately. You can grab your things when you feel ready to, but I'll have you in my lab starting next week. I know it'll be a bit crazy with your rotation presentation, but I promise to make it a smooth transition." 

"Okay." You purse your lips. "I'm almost finished with my rotation presentation."

"That's great!"

"It'll just be us three?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry. It's not the usual format but I need the dean to see all the good work you do."

"Thank you. I appreciate your support."

"Do you have any questions so far? Any other concerns?" You think for a second before shaking your head.

"No."

"I'll send you some onboarding info and give you the contacts to some key people in my lab to help you get started. We can figure out your project and goals in a little more depth next week. Let's aim for a Monday morning meeting? 9am?"

"Good with me." 

"Thanks, Y/N. And please trust me when I say all is gonna be well."

"Thank you." 

"See you next week? Be sure to keep an eye out for my emails." You nod as you stand and tuck your bag closely to you.

"I will." You give him another smile before heading out of the door. Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose and plops back down onto his chair, picking up his direct line to ring the dean's office phone. It rings for a few minutes before the dean is answering on the other end.

"Namjoon."

"Hey. Can we meet today to talk about what's been going on? I can be over in the next 15 minutes."

"I'm free, but I have a hard cut off in 45 minutes."

"That's plenty of time. I'll be there soon."

"See you." Joon hangs up and gathers his things, loosening his tie to get himself together for this meeting. He doesn't necessarily wanna do this, nor does he think he's ready for whatever the dean could unleash on him.

On you, on San.

But, he has a job to do and he'll make damn sure he gets his point across. He'll make damn sure he controls this well, and he'll make sure nothing happens to the both of you.

When he gets into the building and heads straight for the dean's office, he's greeted by the front desk and his executive assistant. The dean's assistant knocks on his door and pops her head in to give him a heads up about Namjoon's visit. It isn't long before she's gesturing for him to come into his office, stepping out and slowly shutting the door behind her once Namjoon's settled in the seat in front of him.

"Namjoon."

"Dean Louie." Namjoon clears his throat. "Can we discuss what's been going on? I've got a chance to review this more in depth."

"Great. So, tell me. What's with the anonymous tip? Is there truth behind San and his student's relationship?"

"No." The dean looks at him with his head cocked to the side. "Not at all."

"Namjoon. This isn't the time to play games."

"Who said I was?" Joon asks. "This is purely a rumor and there is nothing going on between the two of them. To keep things safe, I'll make sure they don't cross paths and interact on campus, and I'll make sure to work closely with her and keep her under my wing." Namjoon says.

"A rumor? That blew up around campus? What about Iseul and Yunho? Iseul told me about the happy hour event with San. All of this seems too good to be true, and if you're covering for them—" Namjoon cuts him off.

"Since when did Iseul and Yunho have their best interest in San? All I know is that they've always been the driving issue, not San." Namjoon looks at the dean confused. "I don't mean to be disrespectful, but a rumor is a rumor and I've gotten to the bottom of it. I talked to the both of them and they denied it through and through. The only reason why San got caught up in the whole happy hour business was because a postdoc was crossing the line and being really disrespectful to her. Any one of us would've done it had we caught it right away like San did." Namjoon continues to furrow his brows. "Now, please. I'd appreciate if we can move on." The dean sits back and lets out a hefty sigh.

"Go on."

"As stated in my email, she will do her rotation presentation in front of myself, you and San. After that, she will be removed from his lab and will be placed in mine. We'll have weekly check-ins, and I'll work with her to move her classes around and realign her priorities so that she and San don't cross paths in this program again."

"And what about this real estate in the building? I'm not going to give it over if this is what San plans to do—"

"I'm sorry, but this shouldn't define San and his work." Namjoon pauses. "He's not, alright? I already confirmed it was a rumor and there is nothing going on. No reason for you to pull back on that real estate deal especially when Jongho had nothing to do with this either and San has already explained his side and agreed to comply regardless. She'll be out of his lab." The dean gives Namjoon a stern look.

"You better make damn sure this doesn't happen again, Namjoon. No rumors, no slip ups. And you make sure those three stop causing trouble on campus. Iseul, Yunho and San. I don't care who did what and who is blaming who, I need this to stop. Now. We can't have childish, petty issues running amuck on this campus."

"You have my word."

"If I hear San and Y/N in the same sentence again, I can't promise it will be the same outcome."

"With all due respect, I need you to understand that whatever they do, whatever happens off campus, doesn't concern me and shouldn't concern you either. I cannot police their behavior and make them act a certain way off grounds. They are both grown, mature adults that can make decisions on their own, and you know that's unfair and very unrealistic." The dean doesn't say much. He mutters a few things under his breath before he's returning his attention to Namjoon.

"Not a damn word about them ever again, Namjoon. I mean it." The dean warns him again before settling into his seat and returning his attention to his desktop computer. Namjoon does a quick, silent bow before walking out, sighing loudly to himself as he's finally gotten that over with.

Still doesn't make it any easier knowing he had his friend make a very difficult decision that he did not wanna do.

He hopes in time, this could blow over and San could be happy again. Despite this hurdle, he's betting on it. On you and him.

Maybe when you come back together, circumstances will be different enough that it won't make the relationship seem as bad as it does right now.

"Shit." Namjoon clicks his teeth when he finally gets out of the building and breathes in the fresh air. He is exhausted, but his day isn't about to be over, no. On his way back to his office, he finds Yunho speaking to a few colleagues in the courtyard. He must have gotten out of a meeting and was walking his visitors out.

And Namjoon doesn't give a fuck. That visit is ending now.

"Professor Kim! It's an honor to see you in the flesh!" Namjoon smiles at his guests before returning the favor.

"Hi there." Namjoon does a curt bow. "Hope you've enjoyed your visit."

"Completely. We had a great collaboration meeting with Professor Jeong here, and he gave us a tour around."

"That's great, yeah." Namjoon smiles before looking at Yunho. "Can we talk in my office?" Namjoon says near Yunho's ear. "Now?"

"Sure." Yunho bids his last farewell before excusing himself and following Namjoon straight to his office. No words being spoken or shared. Namjoon shuts the door and sighs, looking at Yunho with his hand on his hip. "What's going on, Joon?"

"I'm just trying to understand why you and Iseul are trying so hard to ruin that man's reputation. The dean told me Iseul went over there to give him more of her little intel on San."

"I don't know what she said or did—"

"You still knew about it, didn't you?" Namjoon looks at him. "You knew this whole time Iseul was trying to raise hell about this and you let her."

"How is this not wrong?"

"No one said it wasn't wrong, Yunho!" Namjoon raises his tone. "There were just better ways to go about it than throwing San's name out there the way you two did. Just throwing him out there to the wolves without even knowing the full story. That's the problem!"

"I'm sorry, it doesn't seem like it now, but we were looking out for him and everyone else potentially involved."

"Except me. If you knew better, you both would've let me handle this accordingly. This doesn't just affect him, Yunho. It affects you both. It affects me. It affects Y/N, Jongho, everyone. Because you both didn't know how to be discreet about your plans to bring San down."

"It was never like that!"

"Then, what was it like? Tell me. As his colleague, as someone who acted purely for their own benefit, what was it like? As San's ex-bestfriend, what was it like?" Yunho doesn't respond. "This isn't high school, Yunho. I'm sorry, but the both of you need to grow up."

"We just tried to do the right thing and I don't take any of it back. If you fail to see that, then that's on you—"

"Oh, so approaching the dean to give him more talk in his ear with your so-called evidence before coming to me is doing the right thing?" Namjoon looks at him. "What was the goal here? What did this plan look like to you and Iseul?” He shakes his head. “No, actually, I don't wanna hear it, she already came into my office to talk my ear off about this. That should've been enough to let me handle it." Namjoon furrows his brows at him. 

"We just thought we were helping everyone—"

"Helping? Yourself or Iseul?" Namjoon shakes his head. "You know what, this is done. The damage is done. So, thank you and Iseul for your generous help." Yunho sighs. "Now that you've done all the talking, it's my turn." Joon steps closer to him. "As long as I'm around, I'll continue to keep the peace in this department, and that means I don't want you and Iseul meddling in San's personal matters ever again." Namjoon's jaw ticks as he and Yunho stare at each other in the brief pause that falls between them. "I don't want you meddling in Y/N's personal matters, I don't want you two doing anything on this campus besides running your labs and minding your own goddamn business. Do you understand me?" Namjoon places his hands on his hips while he and Yunho maintain eye contact. Yunho swallows thickly before nodding, digging his hands in his pockets.

"Yes sir."

"The next time you and Iseul wanna act like I don't know how to do my job, I promise I'll be good with reminding you."

—read 14.5 here

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[pastafossa]

Thoughts on Matt's 'This all feels fake' line from the last DDBA episode and why it was a genius move

I've had a night to think and process the episode last night, and the more I think about it, the more I think that line was the absolute best way to go.

Obviously, spoilers ahead.

Let's set aside 'is the show good or bad' for a moment since everyone's vibing with it differently (we know where I stand, I'm happy and having a grand old time, but that's not important). Let's instead think about where Scardapane and the new writers found themselves when they were hired on to do the rewrites and reshooting.

Imagine being a cook. A good one. And someone comes to you, with an absolute dumpster fire of a cake. 'Hey man, we got the potluck in a few hours. It's really important there's a cake since it's someone's birthday. If you fix this, I'll let you bake the next one.'

Except the cake is a mess. Parts of it are burned, the flavor's all wrong, it's unfinished, and you have no idea why it's shaped the way it is.

You don't have the time or all the ingredients needed to entirely make a new cake. Your only option is to save what you can and cut off what you can't, and then build from there.

But how do you do that?

That's essentially where they were, writing-wise. The OG writers had created an absolute mess, something that didn't feel like Matt at all, something that had no respect for all of the lore and character building that came before. And it's definitely not the Netflix vibe show that Feige had asked for (which was why that team was fired, shocker). But reshooting the entire season would have thrown off the larger schedule, it would have required contract changes, and it'd be expensive as hell. That meant they had to use at least some of the footage that had already been shot, and build onto it rather than sweeping it away. But what do you do when the new footage you want to shoot has a very different vibe than the old footage? Especially when those two energies are very, very different?

Answer: you acknowledge it.

There's a technique in writing known as lampshade hanging, when instead of ignoring something that's implausible or weird, you point it out instead and move on, while also sometimes using it to advance the narrative. It's one of my favorite tropes! I love to use it, and I love to see it used.

Even better? They made it feel weird, which is something multiple people have brought up as a theory, this idea that it's intentional, and I agree with them. Even some of the teaser trailers before DDBA came out even played off of that feeling, Matt's voice hoarse and dark as a monologue while beneath his voice you get an eerily soundtracked montage of him going through his new 'normal' life day after day after day in a way that makes it clear this new life doesn't fit, and it never will.

I've been fascinated by how they've played it over this first season, both the writers and Charlie himself, using these jarring tonal differences to leave you intentionally unsettled. Sometimes it's done with music, like that early scene where Matt's getting ready for his day, clearly repressing and disassociating his way through life, all while more upbeat music is playing, or the slight alteration to our OG Daredevil theme. Sometimes it's a subtle pattern, these little ticks and tells from Charlie's portrayal - Matt always wearing his glasses even in softer scenes because he doesn't feel safe with these new people around him that are supposedly his friends, hell, even in his own apartment when he's entirely alone because it's not a home like his last place was.

And then there are moments like last night, when Matt literally came out and said it: this all feels fake sometimes. It's not my home. This isn't my life.

We know he doesn't belong there. And they managed to change the original story so that Matt? Matt knows that, too. He's known the entire time.

It weaves a thread through all the original footage, the tonal differences, and Matt's behavior. It's a thread that not only amounts to the new writers saying to us, the audience, 'trust us, we know,' but it's also one that reinforces this idea that Matt is literally just fucking faking it in the hopes that it will keep him away from Daredevil, in the hopes that he can be the man he thinks Foggy would have wanted. He's trying so hard to live that perfect, happy, wonderful life while repressing all of his trauma and depression and it's left him in this bizarre otherworld that he doesn't recognize. He's not himself. It grates on him every day.

And it makes that creeping darkness, that gritty reality, that dirt on his hands and the blood on his lips and his visceral screams all the more thrilling when it edges in, because that? That is the real Matt, his true self, the Devil tearing its way out of the prison he's trapped it in just long enough to bare its teeth and snap and bite before he forces it back into its cell.

And god does it feel real compared to the moments where Matt is just pretending this is all fine, all bright, all good.

I fucking love that they went in that direction. It's the best thing they could have done when locked into reusing the old footage which was different in tone than the Netflix vibe they want to bring back. It was always going to be jarring mashing both of them together. So they ran with it.

Like I said, I'm already really happy with DDBA. Some eps nailed it for me better than others (Ep 6 is just an absolute blast), but even when it gets a little rough, there's this sense of Scardapane and the new writers giving us a wink going, 'yup, we know. Just hang in there until we're not bound by old footage and we can take you on a fucking ride.'

They want what we want. And they're going to take us there. That line solidified it for me. I'm so fucking pumped for Season 2 when the chains are off and they're free to come out swinging.

Anyway thanks for coming to my rambling ted talk.