#not to mention how long he's been without MC. him being greedy for her attention and gaze is understadable

[yes-no-maybe-soo]

Not Sylus being lowkey jealous of pigeons 😭🤣

[discotechque]

till my hand shook with the way I fear

pairing: abed nadir/nby! reader word count: 1.6k rating: T

me and abed have neurodivergent solidarity and for that, we would be besties. also the mc in this is specifically non-binary so whatever.

There's clear haze that settles over the bar, that's the first thing Abed realizes once he settles into the space. It's dim, like most bars are and he assumes that's the charm of places like these. Jeff and Britta are adults ( he is too but he's overlooked and therefore his opinion is mute ) so he follows their guidance. Watching from afar, observing their inebriated choices while downing another shot.

He doesn’t get the point of alcohol, much less bars, and it seems the whole point is to get pleasure after an initial sting. A sharp weight that lays in the back of one's throat before elation rips through you. Bourbon burns through him with too much consequence, gin coats his mouth with a bitter tang, and wine falls flat on his tongue.

Maybe it's his upbringing, he's never witnessed his father take a sip to this day, or the pressure that rushes to his frame when he's offered a drink. Abed understands the appeal of bars, it does not mean he shares the same sentiments to them. They're noisy little backend places where melancholic characters come to waste away their sorrows, typically finding pathetic people who drool over glass rims.

However, he is not pathetic ( even if his oldest friend is rounding his seventies and community college all seemed like a folly ) and he had never been overtly dripping with melancholy. So he stood by the small arcade game in the corner, unbothered and safe, until someone offered kindness.

And he takes miles of that even if all they've given was an inch because even if he isn't pathetic or melancholic, he is greedy. He likes eyes being on him because he has so many thought he wants to share with one mouth that can only do so much. Abed is not dumb, he knows what the man wants and how his friendly touches are slowly rising above his knee.

He knows what the man wants and isn't surprise at his outburst once learning that the feelings isn't reciprocated. There's streams of Mint Julep dripping from his jaw and lashes, softly mumbling about his love for Farscape before having it degraded. Abed knows he deserves it and was warned by Annie that people are sensitive ( but he is not held by the bounds of common decency or empathy no matter how hard he tries to keep his mouth shut. )

Then, he remembers the man's proposition ( the only reason someone would be interested in him ). He isn't familiar with being viewed as a sexual object and men weren't unwelcome in his eyes. Gay? Is he gay? Maybe something that exists within the unorthodox box that is sexual realization? The questions sound so foreign even within the echo chamber of his mind.

He's in a dingy bar celebrating his best friend's birthday, this is not a time for the sexual exploration of his subconscious ( although he saves the thought because he considers if not now then when ). The drink is seeping within his clothes, it's going to stick if he doesn't move. He needs to fucking move.

And he does, swiftly pulling himself away from the chair and heading towards the bathroom. Wherever that is, Shirley said it was in the far back and Annie said fair left. Yet, she meticulous as ever so what if she always assume her left is everyone's true left and Shirley is vague with her directions but it doesn't even seem to be enjoying her time here at all.

He's not enjoying it either if he's honest. His loose shit now sticks to his chest and he knows it would make sopping sounds if the man's glass was any larger. Jeff brought them here to celebrate because they're all adults and Troy deserves to have a birthday party in style but if all Jeff and Britta do it bicker, doesn't that make them children themselves? And if he shares his companionship with them, does that make him and all the others children by association?

He's going nowhere with this train of though, this he knows but it can't ever seem to stop. His brain becomes a leaky faucet that can never be screwed back just right so it drips and drips just like the alcohol does along his jaw and lashes. Abed wants to go home but he's with his friends and it's his best friend's party and it'd be so rude of him to leave so soon. At least, that's what Annie tells him.

( Parties were far and few between when he was younger and even then, he cannot replace family functions for beings that truly care for him. )

But then he remembers you, nursing an iced tea in the corner because you are not interested in bestowing wisdom onto Troy that you do not have or participating in anybody's shenanigans. Bars are where people come to hook up or fuck up, you proclaimed on the car ride here, there's no in between.

Then he hears it, bursting against his ears as a smile splits across your face, a discotheque pop song that might be pleasant if it wasn't so overwhelming. His hand involuntarily taps against his thigh in tune with the rhythm. It helps sort out the sensations, the noise is different than the bland flavoring of water, and he knows what's what but it all feels the same in his mind.

Abed's eyelids shut, another involuntary tick he can never seem to shake, and his hand has created it's own beat. Rapid and rushed with no real rhyme or reason except for the fact that it's something that will tug his mind away from everything. ( It's the same thing he does when he's at the edge of a rollercoaster, it makes him safe. ) If everyone else can sway to a rhythm, why can't he?

"Hey," an unexpected voice softly call out to him ( tenderness within this group almost borders on unnatural ). Abed slowly opens his eyes to see you, you call out to him. He feels his hands move away from his pants, tangled within your fingers instead as you gaze at him with earnest. "five things you can see?"

Your hands feel polished, no—plush. He's afraid that if his thumbs press too hard, he'll begin to meld into your being. That's a great idea for a movie, he thinks and he knows you've been his muse from time to time. Maybe it means something, he's not willing to deep any deeper.

His eyes scan the room for a brief second before he rattles off, "The wooden floors, the bartender, the door, the chair behind you, and Annie still trying to be a Texan."

Her accent still lingers within her mind, poor acting for someone so involved a role they've assigned for themselves. The though nearly amuses him but he's getting off track, he needs to focus on you. On the way your hands gently rub over his knuckles and needs to ignore this growing pit within his stomach on whatever that insinuates.

"Four things you can feel?"

"My feet against my shoes, my jeans against my legs, how hot my ears are, your hands."

You don't let go even after he's mentioned it, instead he receives a squeeze that sounds throughout his body. A continuous cycle the runs on until you ask him for something he can taste, he doesn't know what lingers within the crevices of his mouth. ( He'd want it to be you and licks his lips without a second thought. ) Yet, settles on the answer Mint Julep.

Something about thinking this way must be wrong, he shouldn't want to keep holding your fingers or gaze into your fervent irises. He shouldn't be attracted to someone like you and shouldn't be searching for so many reason on why he has to tear himself away from your presence. Still, shouldn't doesn't stop him from doing so.

Maybe his hands have melted into yours, it'd be a good excuse on why he can't bring himself to let go. The song changes again, how long has he been in this small little world with you?

"Hey, it's Mazzy Star, this fucks so hard." he's heard of this before, maybe you've shared it with him. It's less grating on his ears, smooth melodies being shifted on strings, and he watches you sway from the corner of his eye.

( He likes to be watched but something about you commands all his attention. )

Still shifting from foot to foot, you turn to him with a far more lax expression. Both shifting into familiarity as you ask, "You wanna sit down?"

"Not really," he shoots back suddenly but you're not perturbed at his fast response reflex. However, his heart sinks as the next words tumble from his lips. "but we can stand here and sway?"

You don't pull your hand away from his, instead, pressing into his fingers as you ponder a reply. Perhaps you think this isn't real as much as he presumes you'll humiliate him for even asking. But you don't and another smile splits down your features, large than the last one he saw from across the room.

"Of course, Abed Nadir has a genius idea. Let's do it."

You don't move him from this space you've cultivated with him. Instead, wrapping arms around his neck as he places them on your waist ( he never went to prom but this is better than any teenage fantasy ). Moving side to side, never shifting around in a circle but rather awkwardly figuring out a steady pace while his stares becoming fonder while the night grows.

Abed still doesn't get the point of bars but he can figure it out the next time he's here with you.

[mammonshuman92]

- Watched -

Mammon & GN!MC

** TW: Stalking, cussing, religion (ish? I guess?)

| part two | | part three |

It’s been nearly 6 months since you left the Devildom. You picked up where you had left off in the human world: college, work, home, repeat. Sure, you missed your family while you were away, but now your heart aches almost constantly for the new family you loved so much, that you had to leave behind. (Not that you really had a choice in the matter.)

 As much as it hurt to leave the brothers, Diavolo was right. Establishing harmony and unity with the three realms won’t go over too well if one of the human representatives doesn’t go back to the human world, now will it? Still, it sucks. Life is so boring without all of them.

And quiet.

It’s not like you don’t talk though. Yeah, Diavolo has that rule in place where they have to take turns talking to you because “human’s lives are short” and they were “taking up too much of your time”, but that’s not really going to stop them, is it?

Well kinda, actually.

You can’t really argue with a direct order from the demon lord, after all.

-

Is it Asmo's day to call? You thought to yourself, trying to remember (not that you ever could) the schedule Lucifer came up with. Your own schedule was hard enough to remember.

You had been picking up extra shifts at work and staying late to study at school when you could. Finding any reason to stay busy or get out of the house. The deafening silence was too much to bear.

"I wonder when I can go visit? I should call Diavolo.." you said to yourself quietly.

You were walking home from your shift at the coffee shop near campus. The sun was just starting to set and the air was slightly crisp, causing you to pull your jacket a little tighter.

If it weren't for the brilliant pinks and warm oranges cast on the sky by the setting sun, it would've felt like a regular night in the Devildom. Memories of your last few days spent there came flooding back, bringing the sadness along with them.

In just one year, you had gotten so close to everyone, but you had gotten especially close to Mammon. He was responsible for you in the beginning of course, but the connection was undeniable (no matter how much he did deny it). He was a total simp for you, and you for him. It was rather cringey to everyone else. He could be a handful at times, but that tsundere really is a great boyfriend. Leaving him behind was... well, there's no words for it.

Rounding the corner, you could see your house perfectly. Now that the sun had gone down a bit more, it was getting darker and you were suddenly thankful that you remembered to turn on the porch light before you left.

You pulled your keys from your jacket pocket while climbing the few steps to your front door, and something caught your eye. Your stomach dropped.

Not again..

You plucked the folded piece of paper that was stuck in the screen door and quickly made your way inside, locking the door behind you.With a heavy sigh, you tossed your keys on the table by the door and dropped your bag on the floor beside you. You immediately went to shower and change not giving the paper a second thought.

Not everyone in the human world agreed with the Devildom exchange student program. After you and Solomon had arrived in the Devildom, there were numerous protests by a group much like the Westboro lunatics. They were without a doubt against the program and called for it’s immediate termination. Thankfully, their personal hatred was no match for the opportunity for the realms to find peace.

 When you had returned, you noticed people whispering about you, calling you names and giving you dirty looks. You've even received quite a few pieces of hate mail. Granted, the people opposed to the program were very small in numbers, even if it didn’t seem that way. It didn't bother you though. Demons ended up being some of the most important people to you. Not to mention you were kinda in love with one of them. People could say what they wanted about the Devildom and about you, their words didn't bother you.

You were still towel drying your hair when your phone rang. Tossing the towel, you rushed to the living room to fish it out of your bag, Asmo's face popping up on the caller ID. You were right, it was Asmo’s night. You were secretly hoping it was a certain greedy demon’s turn to call (not that he doesn’t text you almost constantly.)

Asmo was the same as usual. Talking animatedly about this and that, gushing over new beauty products and outfits, filling you in on all the gossip you were missing. While he was rambling, your eyes fell onto the paper that was in your door. Might as well look at the newest piece of hate mail, right? 

You began unfolding the paper, quickly giving Asmo an “omg!” about the gossip he was dishing (even though you hadn’t been paying attention.)

Upon seeing the contents, all the color drained from your face. You were sure your heart sank into your stomach, but you could hear the rapid beating in your ears. You suddenly felt hot, and the air around you seemed thick.

Then the adrenaline kicked in.

With shaky hands, you quickly checked the front door making sure it was locked, and headed to the back door to do the same. You rushed around checking the windows and pulling all the curtains closed. Everything seemed fine, nothing out of the ordinary. Still, that didn’t settle your nerves any.

“MC, dear? Did you hear me?” The sound of Asmo’s voice brought you out of your frantic state.

“Huh? S-sorry Asmo. I guess I s-spaced out.” You tried your best to keep your tone normal and steady your breathing, as to not alert him to anything. You really should give him more credit, though.

“MC? Is everything alright?” His tone was different, no longer playful and flirty. You could hear the concern.

Shit.

“Yeah, I’m fine. More hate mail is all. No biggie.” You lied. Maybe he would believe it..

There was a pause on his end, “You’re STILL getting it? Don’t they have anything better to do?” Good, he bought it. For now, anyway.

After about 10 more minutes Asmo said his goodbyes, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

This piece hate mail turned out to be something much worse than the run of the mill stuff you usually received. Inside there were pictures. Of you. At work, at school, the grocery store, ...outside your house. There was also a newspaper clipping that had a picture of you and your family, from when your parents first opened their bakery a few years back. There were red ‘Xs’ marked through everyone’s faces...

The only words scrawled inside read, “I’ve been watching you. You will pay for what you’ve done, whore. And don’t even think about telling your demon fuck buddies. I know everything about you and your family. It’d be a shame if anything happened to poor old Mom and Dad because their child is an unholy slut.”

You read it over and over, tears streaking your cheeks. Hate mail was nothing new, but now this? A stalker? 

Maybe I’m just over thinking it. The other hate mail was spicy too. But these pictures... There is NO way I’m over thinking this..

“Regardless, I can’t tell the brothers.” You shuddered at what their reaction would be like. It would definitely make all of Diavolo’s hard work on the exchange program obsolete. It wouldn’t be good for any of the three realms. There was still a long way to go, but the program was a giant step in the right direction to obtaining peace and understanding. If dealing with some backlash and hate mail could help get closer to that goal, then for the sake of the greater could, you could handle it.

“For now, I will bear this burden myself.”

- {3 weeks later} -

“Are you okay?”

The simple question nearly made you squeak and nearly jump out of your skin. You turn and meet the worried gaze of your lab partner. You weren’t super close with her, so you knew your current state had to be bad if she was picking up on it.

God, do I really look that bad? You got a good look at yourself this morning, and yeah, you absolutely look that bad. But then again, you haven’t really slept in a few weeks. You had gigantic purple eye bags, your hair looked like a family of birds took up residence in it. Your skin was pale and lifeless, and you began skin picking at your nails due to the anxiety. You’d even lost about twenty pounds.

“Sorry, I guess I was spacing out.”

“It’s alright. It’s just- no offense, but you look awful. Have you been sleeping?” She asked, eyes scanning your face.

“Huh? Oh yeah, I'm fine. Promise.” You lied. She nodded and gave you a weak smile, dropping the subject for now.

You hadn’t really been paying attention to class today. Well, for the last several days, really. You’ve been putting in less effort for a lot of things lately. You’ve been slacking off bad at school and barely keeping up at work. Not to mention you never sleep anymore. How can you though?

You left class early and although it was still early in the day, you decided to skip the rest of your lectures for the day. You’ve always been a fantastic student, so taking a day off wouldn’t really hurt anything. And seeing as today was Thursday, you didn’t even have work today. Same as every week.

 Upon arriving home, you were relieved to see that there weren’t any notes left for you. Yet, anyway.

Ever since the first letter a few weeks ago, they’ve been showing up constantly. Only a few times the first week or so, but now you get at least one every single day. They’re also increasing in severity. The sender seems to be becoming more and more unhinged with every passing day.

“Dirty demon whore!!”

“You’re a HUMAN!! How dare you taint your body with demons!”

“I will cleanse you and make you pure again.”

There was so, so much more. All of it growing more and more explicit with each letter.

The whole thing was taking a huge tool on you, but what could you do? Your family’s safety was on the line. You so badly wanted to tell Mammon of even the cops, but you couldn’t live with yourself if anything bad were to happen. Whatever this psycho had planned, you would gladly put yourself in the line of fire to save those closest to you.

The whole situation has also affected your relationship with Mammon and the rest of the brothers as well. At first, you tried to hide what was happening, but they started getting suspicious and asking questions. Always wondering why you sounded so tired and why you kept cutting their phone calls super short. You always rejected their face time requests, knowing that your drastic change in appearance would be alarming and alert them that something was wrong. Lately, you’ve barely talked to any of them. Especially Mammon. He’d be the first to figure out something was wrong with you and come here ready to fight.

That honestly didn’t sound too bad. You wanted nothing more than for him to hold you while you ugly cried. Breathing in his scent while he rubbed soothing circles on your back.

Your heart started to ache.

-

When you got home you decided to take a nice, hot shower to hopefully help ease some of your tension and possibly begin to get a handle on your quickly deteriorating self care status.

Once you felt somewhat normal again, you put on your comfiest pj’s (which included one of Mammon’s shirts) and plopped yourself on your bed in the fetal position. It was the only thing that kinda helped ease a tiny bit of the feeling that everything was spiraling out of control. The warm scent of your most favorite demon helped calm you.

*bzzz* *bzzz* *bzzz*

Damn. I almost fell asleep..

You sat up, rubbing your eyes and reached for your D.D.D. on your nightstand. The called ID made your heart rate accelerate and your palms sweaty.

It’s him.

“Mammon..? I thought it was Beel’s turn to call?”

“I don’t care about Lucifer’s stupid schedule. I need to talk to ya.” His tone made him sound like he was on edge.

“Oh, ok. What’s up?”

He scoffed, “Really? You’ve barely messaged me back in three days. The last time I called, ya hung up after five minutes.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, I’ve just been busy.” Every lie helps break your heart just a little more. 

“You’ve never been too busy before. Besides, shouldn’t ya be in a class right now or somethin’? It ain’t even noon.”

“I left class early and I’m skipping the rest of the day.” You explained.

“..Hmm.” He replied, you could detect suspicion in his response.

It was quiet on his end for a moment.

“MC?”

“Yeah?”

“..Do ya got another boyfriend? Cause The Great Mammon is definitely better! And-and, I’ll kick their ass!”

“What? Mammon, no. One boyfriend is almost more than I can handle.”

“Wha- hey!”

For the first time in who knows when, you actually giggled. It felt so good.

“So, you swear nothin’ is wrong? You’ve been actin’ so weird.” His voice was heavy with concern.

“Yeah, I swear.” Lie.

As good as it felt to talk to him, you needed to end the call before he ended up dragging the truth out of you. If any one could figure out what was wrong with you, it’d be him. The two of you had spent so much time together, that you can practically read each other like a book.

“I gotta go, ok? I have work later and I need to get ready.” Lie. But, you needed to get off the phone with him before he suspects anything.

“Yeah, sure.” He sounded so defeated. You could almost hear him pouting.

After a quicker goodbye than you usually have when getting off the phone with Mammon, you fell back onto your bed with a heavy sigh.

That was a little rough, but he seemed to believe it. I hope this will all be over soon.

With that, you quickly fell asleep, lulled by the memory of your demon’s voice. Although you wouldn’t sleep long, at least you got to fall asleep to the thought of him.

-

*bzzz* *bzzz* *bzzz*

Geez, are ya gonna answer or not? Ya always pick up on the second ring when I call ya.., Mammon thought.

Finally, on the sixth ring, “Mammon..? I thought it was Beel’s turn to call?”

Man, hearing your voice is like music.

“I don’t care about Lucifer’s stupid schedule. I need to talk to ya.” His tone made him sound a little rougher than intended, but it was all the same. He needed to hear you voice.

“Oh, ok. What’s up?”

He scoffed, “Really? You’ve barely messaged me back in three days. The last time I called, ya hung up after five minutes.”

I miss ya like crazy. Ya keep avoiding me..

“Oh. I’m sorry, I’ve just been busy.” 

Huh? But, MC is always busy doing somethin’ and it never stopped em’ before..

He started getting an uneasy feeling deep in his stomach. He could tell something was off, but he just didn’t know what it was.

Is it ...someone else? Nah, MC wouldn’t do that. ...Right??

“You’ve never been too busy before. Besides, shouldn’t ya be in a class right now or somethin’? It ain’t even noon.” He didn’t try to hide the pout, that he knew you could hear, in his voice. His own thoughts were beginning to hurt his feelings.

“I left class early and I’m skipping the rest of the day.” MC explained.

“..Hmm.” He hummed. Thoughts started swirling around in his head.

MC never skips school, not even at RAD. Somethin’ is definitely going on. And what’s with the short answers? MC always talks like crazy. Maybe they’re mad at me?

It was quiet for a moment while he tried to sort through his thoughts.

“MC?” He asked, finally breaking the silence.

“Yeah?”

“..D-do ya got another boyfriend? Cause The Great Mammon is definitely better! And-and, I’ll kick their ass!”

“What? Mammon, no. One boyfriend is almost more than I can handle.”

“Wha- hey!” You giggled at his response. It was small, but he heard it. It made his heart swim.

All joking aside, he did believe you. Something was definitely not right with you though.

“So, you swear nothin’ is wrong? You’ve been actin’ so weird.” His voice was heavy with concern.

“Yeah, I swear.” Those three words caused his heart to sink.

That was a lie.. MC only says ‘I swear’ while tryin’ to act like somethin’ ain’t wrong..

He pushed his thoughts aside for the time being and continued the conversation. It only lasted a few more minutes before you started saying your goodbyes. Again, cutting the call short.

“I gotta go, ok? I have work later and I need to get ready.” 

Hmm. Why does that seem weird?

“Yeah, sure.” He sounded so defeated.

There was, without a doubt in his mind, something going on. Something that would make you lie to him..

One way or another, he was going to find out.

-

“Mammon? Are you alright?”

Mammon was sprawled out on the couch in the common room. After talking to you, he was lost in his thoughts and feeling rather down. Beel passed by the common room on his was back from the kitchen when he saw his older brother. Noticing that he looked sad, Beel went to investigate.

Mammon looked up to meet Bee’s concerned gaze and with a sigh, he sat up.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Mammon said, as he stood up to leave. Beel could tell he was obviously lying, but decided not to press the issue.

Mammon stopped a few paces away from Beel, and turned back around to face him.

“Hey, Beel. Was MC actin’, I don’t know, “off”, the last time ya talked to em’?” He asked the sixth born, thinking maybe you had accidentally let something slip.

Beel’s face seemed to twist up a little bit, and he nodded.

“Yeah, kind of. MC used to sound excited when I called, but now they hardly talk at all. And they used to send me pictures of the food they were eating and new recipes, at least twice a day, but it’s been about two weeks since the last one they sent.” He explained, sadness in his voice. While in the Devildom, you were his favorite person to eat with.

Mammon nodded at his brother, getting lost in his thoughts again.

So, it’s not just me. MC is actin’ strange with Beel too..

Neither of them had paid been paying enough attention to see Asmo enter the room.

“Mammon, there you are. I’m going out, and I need my new bag from Majolish. The one I let you borrow. And i swear, if you sold it-” Asmo stopped mid sentence when he noticed the sad state two of his brothers.

“Is it about MC?” He asked, nonchalaunt.

Mammon’s head snapped toward his brother.

“What do you mean? Did they say somethin’ to ya?” Mammon asked quickly, taking a few steps closer to his brother.

MC and Asmo always gossip with each other, so maybe they’d tell him somethin’..

“Calm down. MC really hasn’t talked to me much in the last month. I’m so hurt! Who else am I going to talk beauty products with? Lucifer? Goodness, no.”

“Asmo!” Mammon said loudly, trying to get the fifth born back on track.

“Oh, right. Let’s see.” He put a finger to his chin and thought about it. “Hmm. The only thing I can think of was during the last normal conversation I had with them. They said something about receiving a piece of hate mail. They said it was no big deal, but I distinctly remember MC seemed flustered by it. Which I thought was weird, considering it’s definitely not the first one they’d received..” Asmo explained.

Hate mail? MC has only mentioned it to me a couple times. Do they really get it that often..?

“How long ago was that?” Mammon asked. He felt like he was on the brink of something. Just a few more puzzle pieces..

“Hmm, it was right before MC started acting distant toward me. So, about three or four weeks, maybe.” Asmo explained. That’s around the time you had started acting weird with Mammon too.

“So, maybe something happened to MC.” Beel suggested.

“No, MC would tell us. ..Right?” Asmo questioned.

Mammon was so confused.

What is goin’ on with you, MC?

-

After talking with his brothers, Mammon holed himself up in his room. He didn’t really want to be around anyone at the moment. His thoughts were driving him crazy and giving him a headache. What was he not seeing? What piece of the puzzle was he missing?

He started going over your last conversation again, for the millionth time, looking for any kind of clue. But, you seemed normal. Well, your new normal, anyway. Distant, short answers, not giving too much to the conversation. What were you hiding?

It was something about the end of your conversation, but what was it?

He remembered your small giggle. The memory caused a smile to break out across his face. It gave him a tiny bit of hope that you were still there. That you still loved him. That whatever was troubling you, wasn’t making you forget them completely.

It was after that though. You had said “I swear”, which was a red flag, considering you only say it when you’re trying to convince him you’re ok when you’re really not.

He sighed, and rolled over on his bed. He looked at the alarm clock on his night stand, numbers glowing an angry red.

MC is probably at work right now..

Something caught his eye.

Today is Thursday... MC never works on Thursday. I guess the schedule coulda changed. No, cause MC specifically requested to always have that day off for some reason. Delivery day at their family’s bakery, I think. ...MC lied, again..

Then it hit him.

The small little lies. Avoiding all of them, even him for weeks now. Barely talking when you do answer the phone. The way you always sounded so tired and out of it.

It had something to do with what Asmo said about the hate mail.

“Hmm. The only thing I can think of was during the last normal conversation I had with them. They said something about receiving a piece of hate mail. They said it was no big deal, but I distinctly remember MC seemed flustered by it. Which I thought was weird, considering it’s definitely not the first one they’d received..”

Mammon didn’t even know that you’d been receiving that much hate mail. Sure, you’d told him about it a couple times, but he didn’t think it was that bad. Maybe it was actually pretty serious. Is that why you’d been so distant.

Mammon got up from his bed, and began pacing around the room. He almost had it figured out, he could feel it.

Asmo said MC seemed flustered, so it had to have somethin’ to do with the hate mail they received that day, since after that is when MC started actin’ weird.What if it’s somethin’ bad. Like, bad bad. 

He stopped pacing.

The thought of MC being in danger was...

Mammon grabbed his jacket, where it was thrown onto the pool table and left his room in a hurry. He was on his way to Lucifer’s study, mentally preparing himself on the way. He was sure he knew what his brother’s answer would be, but he wasn’t going to just sit here. He needed to know that you were, in fact alright, with his own eyes.

I’m going to the human world. Whether Lucifer allows it or not.

| part two | | part three |

[carewyncromwell]

Hey, guys! So I don’t really have enough material in this most recent side quest to work with to create full roleplaying posts for it (largely because the writing for this quest was stilted as all get out and there really weren’t very high stakes)...so instead, I’ll be doing something a little different, and simply writing out my personal rewrite of the quest’s storyline, as performed by my MC, Carewyn. Most of the overall framework of what happened in the quest will still be there, but I will try to flesh out or rewrite some things to hopefully better develop the ideas and help them more smoothly fit into canon. Hope you enjoy!

When Lucius Malfoy first arrived at Hogwarts, Carewyn was immediately suspicious of him. She wasn’t familiar with the man, but she thought that his timing of coming to Hogwarts for an inspection only after the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher went on the run from the law reeked of the school governors and/or Ministry of Magic wanting to put forward a good show of looking after the students for the press, so that they couldn’t be condemned for their inaction.*

* = (Yes, I know this quest is supposed to be aimed at year 2, but...well...I honestly can’t justify why year 2 would be when an inspection would happen. I suppose the Ice Curse was still in effect, but it’s not like the Ministry or the school governors took any action in response to the danger of the Vaults, even though it seems like the perfect ammunition for Lucius to use against Dumbledore. He was able to coax all of the school governors to sack Dumbledore in the name of saving students during the Chamber of Secrets arc later on, so it feels like this could’ve been done here too, if the Ice Vault was still raging. Dumbledore would also have little reason to think we’re “good at solving mysteries” if this takes place in year 2, since we at that point haven’t even successfully dealt with one Cursed Vault yet. So in this version of events, Lucius has only just become a school governor in anticipation of his son, Draco, attending school in the next few years. And because the Statue Vault and Rakepick are currently being tackled by the Ministry already, Lucius doesn’t really have any more action he can take. It also makes very little sense for a five-year-old Draco to be brought along to Hogwarts. His mother Narcissa is a stay-at-home mother, and even in the films, it’s pretty clear she -- and Lucius, at least in the books -- wouldn’t want her precious bb boy being taken care of by a pair of strangers with no experience in child-rearing. And I don’t think either movie! or book!Lucius would want any “bad influences” like protagonist MC around his son at that age, either -- at least by age nine, Draco would be pretty locked into the pureblood beliefs he’s been raised with, and since he’d be attending school in two years, it would give Draco a good preview of what his school life will be like ahead of time.)

Carewyn’s suspicions only heightened when Flitwick summoned her and Ben to the Charms classroom and Lucius Malfoy was there talking to Professor Flitwick. She had been very flattered by Flitwick’s praise of her Charm work...but the way Lucius looked at her when he turned to her...

Even though yes, Carewyn didn’t like the mention of Jacob, there was something else she could sense in Lucius’s eyes -- something intrigued. Although he smiled very pleasantly, there was a definite marked interest in his voice, not unlike how Professor Tofty greeted her upon first meeting. Lucius had definitely heard a lot more than just about Jacob -- but despite this, Carewyn merely gave Lucius a very cool smile in return.

Lucius’s condescension toward Ben for his blood status only made Carewyn dislike Lucius all the more. When he’d left the room, Carewyn agreed with Ben’s distaste for the school governor immediately.

“Professor Flitwick,” she said slowly, “are the Malfoys an old Wizarding family?” Carewyn had heard plenty of stories about her mother’s family and their particular dislike of Muggles, so it seemed logical to think the Malfoys were like them.

Flitwick had confirmed that yes, they were, adding that Lucius could be difficult sometimes. “But he is one of the school governors,” he’d said. “So we simply must cooperate.“

After Potions class, Merula and Carewyn were both forwarded to Dumbledore’s office by their Head of House, Severus Snape. While waiting for Lucius Malfoy to arrive, Merula explained a bit more about Lucius Malfoy’s history with Voldemort, which thoroughly justified Carewyn’s distrust of the man. When Dumbledore and Lucius arrived, however, Carewyn and Merula soon found themselves roped into looking after Lucius’s son, the bratty nine-year-old Draco Malfoy.

Okay -- I know a lot of people liked how Draco was portrayed in the game and enjoyed how he (if you picked to protect his secret) expressed genuine admiration for MC, but...yeah, in this version of events, he’s not nearly so cute. (I mean, come on, in the books, Harry compared Draco to Dudley on first meeting -- this kid has some serious issues with empathy and a real selfish streak. He might be a lot more clever than Dudley, but in my mind, he should be pretty fun to hate at this stage, rather than cute.)

For one, because he’s older, Draco’s in less need of babysitting and more in need of guidance. Lucius thought it only fitting that two such promising students show Draco the best Hogwarts has to offer -- and Draco, being older and therefore even more entitled, arrogant, and condescending than he’s portrayed in the game, was sizing up his competition just as much as he was tailing after them. His father Lucius had told him all about Merula’s parents and about Carewyn’s reputation as a Cursebreaker, so he knew that both girls were incredibly powerful and thus were both people Draco should have in his circle, whether as allies or as pawns. While Lucius was at school, he became very talented at making connections, which has served him well in the present by giving him the power to either sway or pressure people into doing things his way -- and Draco not only is expected to do the same, but the young Malfoy heir is eager to follow in his father’s footsteps and already be the “big man on campus” when he starts at Hogwarts. Even if both Carewyn and Merula will be graduated by the time he starts school, those ties could still be very beneficial down the road.

That being said, Draco and Merula did still instantly end up at each other’s throats. Even if Draco was supposed to “get Carewyn and Merula in his circle,” thanks to his spoiled upbringing by his parents, Draco has no social skills whatsoever, and so has little idea of how to charm people without putting down others in the process. Even though (or perhaps because) Merula was a bully herself most of her school career, she reacted very harshly to Draco’s nasty attitude, and soon the two were verbally smacking each other around with barbed, personal insults.

Despite her growing dislike for both Lucius and his son, Carewyn did everything she could to be the mediating force between them and even successfully distracted Draco by asking about his interests and taking him to the Quidditch pitch. Not long after they arrived, Draco succeeded in snatching a spare broom and started flying around the pitch.

Merula sincerely hoped that he’d fall and break his neck, but Carewyn -- even if she didn’t particularly like Draco -- knew it’d be terrible if he did hurt himself. So she boarded her own Cleansweep (which she’d kept locked in the Slytherin Quidditch tent, in case one of Orion’s players needed a spare broom) and took off after Draco.

Once in the air, Carewyn kept her wand close in case something went wrong. Fortunately she needn’t have feared -- within a minute, she could see that Draco was a very talented flier. In an attempt to distract him away from fighting with Merula, Carewyn suggested that she could teach Draco some flying tricks. Draco was scornful at first, until Carewyn weaved through the stands and threaded the needle through all three goal posts before sweeping into an extreme dive and pulling up mere feet from the ground. She smirked up at Draco, folding her legs over her broom so she could lean back effortlessly with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Ready for a lesson now, Mr. Malfoy?” she called up to him coolly.

The young Malfoy heir couldn’t hide the greedy look in his eye at the thought of learning those cool tricks, nor could he hide how thrilled he was learning how to do an extreme dive.

Once the two had finally come back down to the ground, Draco asked Carewyn if she was on the Slytherin Quidditch team. When she said no, explaining that she just didn’t have the time to devote to Quidditch, Draco reacted with scorn.

“Because of those Vaults, I guess?” he presumed.

He said that his father had told him all about Carewyn’s Cursebreaking, and her family too -- that her brother was a delinquent and her mother had run away from home to marry a Muggle. Merula was actually a bit startled by this, not having heard that particular fact about Carewyn’s mother, but Carewyn herself kept her temper, even as her tone grew cooler and dryer than ever.

“My family may not be perfect, but I’m proud of it, all the same,” she said softly.

What she didn’t add out loud was, “I certainly wouldn’t be proud of my family if I were in your shoes.”

A bit miffed he hadn’t been able to get a rise out of Carewyn, Draco soon enough turned his attentions back to Merula. He ranted about how his father had said Hogwarts was going to the dogs and about how they had so many Mudbloods amongst their ranks. Carewyn stiffened very sharply at the use of the word.

“That is not a word to be used in civilized conversation,” she told him very severely.

“My father says it all the time,” Draco argued.

“Really?” said Carewyn, her lips turning up in a cool smile. “Don’t reckon that’s something you should admit too readily, given your own family’s history -- I wager a fair number of people at this school would hex you to belch slugs for using a word like that.”

Merula's face broke out into a smug smirk. “Don’t give me any ideas, Cromwell.”

This change in topic, however, led to Draco wanting a proper dueling lesson from Merula and Carewyn. Naturally, because Draco didn’t have a wand of his own and they certainly weren’t going to lend him theirs, the two girls refused -- and soon enough, they got word that Lucius was finished with his inspection and would be leaving the school soon.

Of course, that didn’t happen, because sure enough, Lucius’s wand went missing. The prime suspect? The Malfoy family house elf, Dobby.

Carewyn had little experience with house-elves prior to Dobby (only having met Pitts the previous year), so the poor elf’s maltreatment at the Malfoys’ hands greatly upset her. Determined to prove his innocence, she asked Dobby to tell her whatever he could say without hurting himself and -- upon Dobby trying to smack his own head against the ground -- she actually bent down and grabbed hold of him in both hands to try to wrestle him into not hurting himself.

“It’s okay, Dobby,” she kept telling him. “I’ll make sure you don’t get blamed.”

It didn’t take long at all for Carewyn to get to the bottom of who had taken the wand. If Dobby felt he couldn’t tell her who the thief was because he couldn’t speak ill of the Malfoy family, then there was only one possible suspect. Catching up with Merula and Draco, she confronted the Malfoy heir about having taken his father’s wand. Draco denied it at first, but pretty quickly came clean.

“I’m not too young to learn how to duel!” he said. “I wouldn’t have borrowed Father’s wand if you’d just lent me yours!”

After some prodding, Draco admitted where he’d hidden his father’s wand. It didn’t take long for Merula to find it.

Despite the younger boy’s bravado, though, Carewyn could still tell that Draco hadn’t meant for this whole thing to go so far. He wasn’t really sorry about the thought that Dobby could be blamed for something he did -- but he’d enjoyed what he’d learned so far and wanted to stay at Hogwarts a little longer so he could learn some spells.

Feeling some compassion despite herself, Carewyn sat down on the edge of the fountain next to Draco.

“If you give me your solemn word only to use this in a formal duel,” she said very seriously, “I will teach you one spell. Do we have a deal?”

His eyes once again greedy for knowledge, Draco nodded and eagerly agreed. Holding out her wand in front of her, Carewyn told Draco to put his hand on top of hers. Then she walked him step-by-step through the wand movements for the spell “Everte Sactum,” the Stumbling Hex.

“When you cast this correctly, it will hurl your opponent off their feet,” she explained. “That can then give you the time you need to get away, if you’re in trouble.”

Her eyes then narrowed sharply upon Draco’s face. “Remember your word, though -- you will only use this in a duel, not for fun. Got it?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Draco said breezily, but he was grinning from ear to ear all the same.

The group met back up with Lucius Malfoy and Dumbledore in the Headmaster’s Office. When Lucius asked Carewyn who had stolen the wand, she answered simply,

“No one, as far as I can tell. Merula found it on the floor near the Entrance Hall -- no thief to be seen.”

After all, Draco had only admitted to “borrowing” his father’s wand -- not stealing it.

”There’s no evidence that Dobby couldn’t have still taken it,” said Lucius.

Dobby shook his head frantically, wringing his hands desperately as he insisted he didn’t take the wand and never would. Carewyn very gently cut off Dobby’s denials by pointing out that house elves can’t lie to or speak ill of their masters without hurting themselves. The fact that Dobby was not hurting himself while claiming he didn’t take the wand was proof in itself that he didn’t commit the crime. And everyone must be considered innocent until proven guilty...right?

Lucius considered Carewyn carefully, his gray eyes oddly critical and shrewd upon her face -- then he inclined his head in an abridged nod.

“...Wisely said, Miss Cromwell. You could be an excellent lawyer, with sentiments such as those.”

His gray eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly as his lips curled up in a cool smile.

“I daresay that would please your grandfather quite a bit.”

Carewyn’s blood ran cold. Lucius Malfoy was in touch with her grandfather, Charles Cromwell? She’d never met her mother’s father before -- but given that Lucius Malfoy spoke highly of him, she wondered more than ever if she was incredibly fortunate in that...

For his part, Lucius seemed satisfied by how taken aback Carewyn was and, with a flourish of his cloak, swept toward the office door.

“Come, Draco,” he called over his shoulder.

Before Draco left, he paused, turning back to look at Carewyn.

“I won’t forget that,” he said. “What you did.”

He didn’t need to articulate what he meant.

“And I swear -- when we’re both done at Hogwarts, we’ll meet again, Cromwell. And when we do, I’ll be the greatest wizard ever -- greater than you could ever be.”

Despite the arrogance in his expression, Draco was still grinning from ear to ear in a kind of vicious determination.

Carewyn’s blue eyes grew a little smaller as she smirked in return.

“Good ambition. Just keep in mind -- there are many ways to be ‘great.’“

With an offhand scoff, Draco turned on his heel and followed his father, not fully able to bite back the smile still clinging to his lips.

When Dumbledore, Carewyn, and Merula were out of earshot, Lucius spoke to Draco at last.

“She knew you took my wand, didn’t she?” he asked.

Draco, although startled, reluctantly nodded.

“And yet she dared lie to my face,” said Lucius in dark amusement. “Rather effectively, too. Tell me -- what did you think of her, Draco?”

Draco shrugged offhandedly. “All right, I guess. She’s a decent flier -- and her spellwork’s okay.”

“Coming from you, that’s high praise,” said Lucius dryly. His lips curled up in a wry smile. “Seems I was right to think I should keep an eye on her advancement...”

Dobby was so grateful to Carewyn that he said that if she ever needed him, she only had to ask. Carewyn was very happy for that -- she had a feeling that she could use at least one friend in the Malfoy household, if Lucius really had such close ties to her mother’s family.

[mysme-messu]

You Are the One That I Love

So here goes chapter 2 :) I’m still undecided about MC being with Zen or Saeran. I love them both so I want both of them cuz I’m greedy like that. 

Synopsis: She thought they were getting closer.

She thought he returned the feelings she had when he shared about his past, when he confided to her about his negative thoughts, when he talked about his weaknesses.

All those endearments, those shared moments, those touches.

Maybe she was the only one who thought that way.

He makes that pretty clear when he offers to set her up with his co-star.

Genres: Angst, Fluff, Hurt & Comfort

Pairings: Zen x MC | Saeran x MC

You can also read it here

Her 6th RFA party comes up. This time, the amount of guests that come makes the number of guest in her first party look completely insignificant.

The other are equally excited with the outcome.

She greets the guests with Jaehee while the others mingle and socialize with the guest who've already arrived.

She gets glimpses of Zen and the other RFA members as they walk by.

As the last of the guests come, Jaehee tells her to go mingle. She does so, knowing that Jaehee is more than capable of handling it alone.

As soon as she enters, the matchmaker guest seems to instantly zone in on her.

She stifles a little groan but it turns into a little smile when she sees Saeran and Saeyoung laughing at her.

An idea pops into mind as she leads the matchmaker towards the Choi brothers, making them suffer along with her as the matchmaker continuously tries to set the 3 of them up with her clients.

“Although he does sound amazing, I do have someone I’m interested in.” She admits, half because she wants the matchmaker to stop, half because it's the truth.

Seven exchanges a look with her over the matchmaker’s head, a smirk etched on his face. “Does he happen to have long, luxurious white hair?”

The matchmaker’s eyes widen with glee, her earlier attempts forgotten. “Is it Zen?”

She groans. When did the RFA party become a gossip column?

She tries to excuse herself but Seven continues to prod at her while the matchmaker continues to question her.

“I feel like a girl who compliments Seven’s humor would fit him best.” As a last ditch effort to get the attention off her, she throws Seven under the bus. It’s not as if he didn’t deserve it though.

“That’s very true.” The matchmaker hums in agreement. “Or maybe someone serious would also help reign in those tendencies of his.”

Seven makes a face at her and she sticks her tongue out at him when the matchmaker isn't looking.

“I see the matchmaker had her sights set on you as soon as you entered.” Zen comments lightly as he takes a seat beside her.

She gives him a noncommittal grunt. “She’s Seven’s problem now.”

He laughs, a warm, throaty sound coming from him.

“Talking about matchmaking,” he begins and she feels dread creep up her spine. She forces herself to stay and let him finish. It could be that she was misunderstanding him. “Jung Wook wanted to see if you were interested in going out with him.”

She thought they were getting closer. She thought that he returned the feelings she had when he shared about his past, when he confided to her about his negative thoughts, when he talked about his weaknesses.

All those endearments, those shared moments, the touches.

Maybe she was the only one who thought that way.

He makes that pretty clear when he offers to set her up on a date with his co-star.

“I know Jung Wook isn’t as good looking as I am, obviously, but he’s a good guy.” Zen says with a small smile on his lips. “I know I pushed this on you too quickly, so you don't have to reply yet.”

She forces the corner of her lips into a semblance of a smile. “Thank you for the offer, Zen, but I'm not really up for dating at the moment.”

Especially when the man right beside her just broke her heart.

She sees Saeran give her a look across the table. The look of sympathy doesn’t go unseen.

She gathers her clutch and quickly hurries towards Jaehee, mumbling an excuse about one of the guests needing her before practically running off.

She’d pick up the pieces of her heart later, when she was alone.

The party ends, seemingly just as quickly as it began. Wanting to forget about Zen’s words, just for a moment, she makes it a personal mission to busy herself with anything and everything. 

“MC, you do realize we've hired professionals to do clean up, right?” Jumin comments, a tinge of confusion in his voice.

“I do, I just wanted to make their job a little easier with anything I can do to help.” She makes excuses. Busy hands leave no space for wandering thoughts.

“That's sweet MC,” Jaehee says. “But you really don't have to.”

“Let’s go celebrate!” Yoosung skips into the room. “Our 6th successful party with MC!”

They discuss taking their impromptu party to Jaehee’s cafe. During the entire discussion, she makes sure she stays as far away from Zen as she can.

As they all head towards Jaehee’s cafe, Saeran tugs at her arm until they lag slightly behind the group.

“Are you okay?” She can hear the concern laced into his tone and she feels bad for worrying him.

“I…” She fights keeping from worrying him or spilling everything. She chooses the latter because Saeran was family. “I don't know. It hurt so much when Zen said those words. I kept hoping he was just joking. I wanted him to say he was just testing my feelings for him but he didn't. It was like he wouldn't care at all if I started dating someone, someone who wasn’t him.”

Saeran awkwardly pressed her face against his chest. “You can cry if you want.”

That makes her giggle a little until she feels the tears gather in her eyes. She clutches at his suit jacket as the tears trail down her cheeks.

Saeran doesn't say a word as he continues to stroke the back of her head.

She hears voices calling for her and Saeran a while later, more precisely, Seven and Zen’s voice.

She freezes.

“Whatcha up to brother?” This undoubtedly comes from Seven. “Everyone is in the cafe already.”

“Saeran! What did you do to MC?” Zen’s voice is a lot closer than she expects it to be.

“Do you feel up to facing them right now?” Saeran asks her quietly, only loud enough so she can hear him.

She shakes her head, still unwilling to lift her face from its spot on his chest.

“MC feels a little sick, I'll take her back to my place. Tell the others.” Saeran says gruffly to the other two men.

“No!” Zen cries. “You can't go home with him, MC. All men are wolves! What if he tries to take advantage of you while you’re sick and groggy from medicine?”

She wants to scoff and laugh. Just a while ago, he’d been eagerly trying to pawn her off to his co-star.

“Really, Zen?” Saeran’s tone is dry and unamused.

“Sorry.” Zen’s response is muttered. “I was just worried about MC. Maybe I should take care of her and you two go party.”

She involuntarily tightens her hold on Saeran’s jacket.

“Nah.” Saeran rejects the idea. “I got her.”

It's quiet for a while before Seven speaks up. “Lets leave MC to Saeran. My brother dear is probably tired from the party. It’s best he takes MC home so the both of them can rest up.”

After a little more prodding from Seven, she hears two pairs of footsteps fade away.

“They're gone.”

She pulls away and covers her face with her clutch. Without looking in the mirror, judging from Saeran’s previously white shirt, she knows her makeup is probably a mess.

“Thank you for helping me out Saeran,” she says quietly as they wait for a taxi. “I don’t know what I would've done without you.”

“I didn’t do anything.” He shrugs.

“Sorry about your shirt.” She offers him an apologetic smile. “I'll buy you a new one.”

“It’s not a big deal.” He opens the door to the cab and gestures for her to get in first.

She makes a face when she sees the result of her little cry fest from her little compact. She attempts to wipe away the remnants of her makeup.

The two of them fall into a comfortable silence on the way to the Choi’s house.

They both head off to their rooms, hers being the guest room she’d spent many of her nights in, to slip off their fancy clothes.

When her makeup is washed off and her face bare, she sees Saeran on the sofa with ice cream and two spoons. She takes that as a clue and settles down beside him. “What are we watching?”

He gestures to a stack of DVDs on the table and she notices how the ones with Zen are nowhere to be seen.

He grunts as she picks one of her favourite rom-coms. “Again?”

“You let me choose,” she retorts simply.

He doesn't argue any further but sticks the movie into the player.

She plucks a spoon from his hand and takes a spoonful of his beloved ice cream.

He doesn’t complain like he usually does but just tells her that she’s buying him a new carton.

She tucks her feet under his lap and they stay like that for the rest of the night.

There’s a crick in her neck from falling sleeping on the sofa. She blinks against the light and sits up.

She rubs away the sleep from her eyes and covers Saeran with the blankets before she heads towards the bathroom.

She finds a note from Seven stuck to the mirror, telling her he’d taken one of his babies on a drive.

When she finally checks her phone, it’s blown up with texts and calls from Zen and the others.

She's not in the mood to talk to Zen yet so she goes to the chat room instead.

It doesn't take her long to find out the reason for Zen’s actions.

Staring back at her was a photo of her lying on Saeran’s chest, both of them deep asleep.

Seven’s caption had wrote: ‘Are my 2 favourite people heading towards the world of romance without me?’

No wonder Seven was out. She could imagine Saeran’s wrath when he found out.

She giggles.

Hurriedly telling the others she felt a lot better and reassuring Jumin that she didn’t need his doctor to be sent over, she quickly logs off before Zen had the chance to appear.

She gets breakfast ready before waking a reluctant Saeran up.

Saeran grumpily runs a hand through his hair and plods towards the toilet, only brightening up when she mentions restocking his supply ice cream.

Breakfast is finished and they head towards the mall.

“I really don't need another button up,” Saeran grumbles. “I have another one at home.”

“No.” She insists stubbornly. “I ruined your other one, so I'm going to buy you a new one.”

He complains all the way to the shop, complains as she looks for a style that would fit him and complains as she forces him to try them on.

Even though he complains, he does what she wants him to do.

Her search ends when her eyes land on a plain black button up. Saeran’s little nod of agreement encourages her excitement and she quickly pushes him back into the changing room.

It fits him perfectly, accentuating his frame and subtle muscular build.

She sneaks a photo of him before Saeran can see.

She's tempted to send it to the group but she decides to keep the photo to herself.

With the shirt bought, they go to Saeran’s favourite ice cream parlor and enjoy a little reprieve.

“What are you going to do about Zen?” Saeran’s question catches her off guard but she had expected it sooner or later just not so soon.

She let's the ice cream melt in her mouth, savoring the sweetness and taking the time to think over her answer before responding.  “I’m not sure yet, maybe I'll try to distance myself in hopes he or I forgets or maybe I can just tell him I love him.”

Saeran gives a noncommittal grunt that tells her that he’s not particularly in agreement with either of her ideas but she doesn't know what else to do.

She's not fond of her options either but what else could she really do?

To be perfectly honest, she feels like if she does the latter, she’d be instantly rejected and reduced to a mere fan who fell him instead of a close, supportive friend she had been for the past year.

”Have you been avoiding me, MC?” Zen asks as soon as she picks up the phone. It's been the first time she's answered his call since the party and that had been almost 3 weeks ago. 

“I haven't.” Well not exactly. “Work for Jumin has taken up a huge chunk of my time, seeing as wine for cats seem to be a pretty popular concept. Plus, Seven has been getting more work recently, so I hang around with them making sure both ‘Ran and ‘Young are eating properly.”

“MC…” ‘He trails off. It feels as if neither of them really know what he wants to say. It’s the first time, in a long time, that she feels she doesn't understand him anymore.

Maybe she never really did in the first place, seeing how she easily misunderstood his feelings for her.

“I'm sorry I've become so out of touch. How about we meet up for lunch tomorrow?” She suggests lunch because it has time limit, they have an hour, no more, no less.

Zen easily agrees and she wonders if she did the right thing as soon as she hangs up.