#chapter four

[creative-caramel-coffee]

The Spiders Sister - Chapter 4

Summary: Reader goes shopping with Pepper, Wanda and Nat. It ends a bit early though when reader starts to struggle with her senses.

TW: overstimulation, flirting, speeding, domestic fluff (hehe)

Words: 3.8K

A/n I changed the floor layout my bad. Also, I planned like 16 chapters of this fic so far and there will probs be more. Now i’m just worried I’ll end up loosing interest and not finishing it 😭 and I’ve been up since 2am. I slept for two hours 💀

After a dinner of pizza and other takeaway foods Tony had bought, Wanda and you headed back to the floor with Peters room.

Stepping out of the lift Wanda led you to where you had been staying for the past few days while Nat went ahead to your new room put sheets on your bed.

Your room would be on the same floor as Natasha and Wanda’s. It was also where Yelena and Kate stayed when they were in town as well as Carol when she was on earth.

You reached the door and headed into peters room. It didn’t take long to gather your things. You grabbed the backpack with some clothes in it, all of which were dirty by now as well as your tablet, computer and sketching supplies.

Once you had shoved most of it into the bag and had your laptop in your arms you followed wanda back out the door.

Despite your very comprehensive tour of the compound, you still didn’t know where you were going.

Wanda and you got back into the lift and set out for your new room.

The lift was filled with idle chatter as Wanda caught you up on the avengers love lives. Tony and pepper were together while the rest were still living the bachelor life.

Feeling a little bold you decided to ask her.

“What about you?” You asked. “Are you seeing anyone?” You clarified when she shot you a confused look.

“Not currently.” Wanda said studying the rarely used buttons on the lift. Jarvis often did all of that for you.

“Ok cool.” You said before stuttering. “I mean not ‘cool’ but its not uncool” you began rambling only cut off by the angelic sound of Wanda’s giggles.

Your cheeks were rosy as she smiled at you.

“Your cute when your flustered.” She said with a wink just as the doors opened and she stepped out. You were frozen for a second before gathering yourself and following her out half a pace behind.

As you trailed after Wanda down the halls she turned to look over her shoulder at you. “You coming sweetheart?” She asked and you nodded speeding up your steps to walk beside her.

As you rounded another corner she slowed. “This is my room.” Wanda said gesturing to a closed door. “And that’s Nat’s.” She gestured to the door next to hers. “This is your room.” She said walking down to the door halfway between Wanda’s and Natasha’s on the opposite side of the hallway.

The door to your room was open as Nat was sat on your freshly made bed with a grin.

“Wondering when you were getting here.” Natasha smirked making Wanda roll her eyes at her.

You stepped into the room. It was large with a king bed and huge windows that let in natural light, or at least it would if it was daytime. It was past evening now and almost nine pm. The New York skyline was just as beautiful, however.

You set your bag and laptop down on the desk before sitting down next to Natasha on the bed.

The walls were white and grey. There was a big desk near the windows and a bedside table on each side of the bed. A door was off to the side which you assumed led to a bathroom. There was also a second door which must have been a wardrobe. Other than a lamp on the bedside and a Tv mounted on the wall, the room was bare.

“We’ll get thing to decorate when we go shopping tomorrow.” Nat said almost as if she could read your mind. More likely she could read your expression and body language.

“Sounds perfect.” You said with a smile.

“Do you have clothes you can sleep in tonight?” Wanda asked and you shuffled your feet before looking up at her.

“Er… no?” You said.

“Are you asking me or telling me sweetheart?” Wanda asked coyly making a blush rise on your cheeks.

“Telling?” You said still sounding unsure of yourself.

“Very well then. I’m sure Nat and I can find something for you to sleep in for tonight.” Wanda said looking to Nat for her opinion. The widow nodded and you felt yourself relax slightly.

“Thank you guys. I wasn’t looking forward to wearing dirty clothes in a clean bed tonight.’ You said sighing in relief.

“Are all your clothes dirty?” Nat asked eyeing your backpack.

“Yeah.” You huffed.

“We’ll find you something to wear tomorrow as well then, just until we can sort out some new clothes and laundry. Sound good?” Nat asked and you nodded.

“Yes, thank you.” You said.

“No need to thank us darling. Your quite welcome.” Nat purred and you felt yourself resist a shiver as her words danced close to your ear. The hair on the back of your neck swaying slightly under her breath as your skin tingled with the heat of her words.

You swallowed trying to regain your composure much to both women’s amusement.

“T-thanks.” You stuttered.

“Already said that darling.” Wanda chuckled and your blush deepened.

“Your so easy to mess with.” Nat said laughing from beside you.

You just glared at them and went to take the things out of your backpack while Wanda and Natasha left to find some clothes for you in their cupboards.

You had just finished setting down the last of your art supplies on the desk when Nat walked in loosely holding a faded black shield T-shirt that immediately knew was hers from how worn it looked. It also looked to be almost two sizes too big for Nat, so you shot her a questioning look.

She shrugged. “Its comfier to sleep in when its too big, and it kept the other boys I trained with back in the day from being able to stare at my ass.” She said with a wink.

“Whats this about Nat’s ass?” Wanda said walking in with a sly grin as your cheeks heated and you buried your face in your hands with a groan.

You heard the two of them high-five and rolled your eyes.

“Here.” Wanda said and you felt the bed dip beside you.

Wanda was holding out a pair of red track-pants which you took with a smile.

A second later Nat threw the shirt at you with a laugh as it landed on your head. You pulled it off and glared at her.

“You’re a menace.” You declared and Wanda hid a giggle behind her hand.

“Sure thing sweet cheeks.” Nat said rolling her eyes. “Now it’s bed time kiddo.” She said and motioned for wanda to leave as well.

“Im not a kid Romanoff.” You said and she smirked at the use of her last name, having been able to get under your skin successfully.

Wanda cuffed Nat but she ducked and took off down the hall. Wanda rolled her eyes and sighed. “Ignore her, she’s been drinking too much coffee lately.” Wanda said and bid you goodnight before retreating to capture the other redhead and force her to sleep.

You grinned at the shut door like a lovesick puppy before shaking yourself out of it. You changed into the clothes which smelt like them and made you feel safe.

Sliding under the sheets and getting comfy, you listened to the hallways to see if anyone was coming back. When you were met with silence, you reached over your backpack and pulled out a small white stuffed teddy.

Curling up with it under your arm, you buried your face in Nat’s shirt and fell asleep thinking of the two pretty redheads down the hall.

The next morning you were up bright and early. Having slept well for the first time in weeks.

You found your way to the communal kitchen just in time to run into Natasha who was coming back from early morning training in the compound gym.

“Hi Y/n/n.” Nat said smiling as she went to grab a bottle of cold water from the fridge.

“Morning Natty.” You said with a smile.

“You're in a good mood.” Nat said looking amused as she took a big swig from the water bottle in her hands.

“Yep.” You said popping the P.

“Do you know if Wanda’s up?” Nat asked and before you could respond someone else did for you.

“I’m up.” Wanda said entering the kitchen.

“Morning.” You smiled.

“Morning Y/n. Who wants breakfast?” Wanda asked gravitating to the pots and pans in the drawers beside you.

“I’ll have some.” You said with a smile as you took a seat by the counter.

“Put me down for some too, I’m just going to go and have a shower before breakfast then we can head out ok?” Nat said as she refilled the water bottle and put it back in the fridge.

“Sounds good.” Wanda said as she began pulling things out of the fridge.

“Umm… where are we going today?” You asked feeling a little lost. Nat had already taken her leave for a shower so it was just you and wanda now.

“Don’t tell me you forgot?” Wanda said looking amused.

“Forgot … what? … exactly?” You asked.

“The girls shopping trip?” Wanda said.

“Oh yeah!” You exclaimed sitting up a little taller in a way that made Wanda’s heart stutter.

“So… how did you sleep?” Wanda asked.

“I slept well, how ‘bout you?” You asked watching as wanda beat the pancake batter within and inch of its life.

“Good, good. It’s a bit hit and miss some nights but last night wasn’t too bad.” Wanda said vaguely as she turned around the pour the batter into the pan.

After Nat returned and the three of you had eaten what could only be described as the best pancakes known to man, you got ready and headed for the garage.

Pepper was meeting you at the shopping centre a bit later after she sorted out some stark industries meetings this morning.

“You ready?” Wanda said putting an arm around your shoulders. You jumped in surprise making Nat laugh and Wanda frown.

“Too busy daydreaming there, Parker?” Nat asked with a grin, and you glared at her.

“No, just planning your murder.” You said with a wink before blow if her a kiss that made Nat roll her eyes at you.

“Alright, enough you two.” Wanda said giving you a small shove before punching Nat in the arm.

“Get in.” Nat said opening a door for you to the backseat and waving her hand toward the car's interior.

“This feels personal.” You grumbled as the two redheads took the front seat.

“It is.” Nat grinned as the engine hummed to life. You were taking one of Tonys’ many fancy, and very expensive cars. Nat’s favourite was the Bugatti La Voiture Noire, but it was only two seats, so you were left with the choice of a Mercedes Mayback or a Ford Mustang both of which had four seats.

In the end Nat had opted for the mustang and the three of you had piled in to head off.

With Nat driving you must have arrived in record time; it was no secret the redheaded assassin was a speed demon and Tony had begun framing her speeding tickets in the garage on the wall. The government always came to her aid if the police ever tried to take her license as it was argued she needed it to quote “save New York”

Of course, you hadn’t known this before hand and had let out a small scream as Nat took off at breakneck speed out of the garage.

One very fast car trip later the three of you were stood by the door the mall waiting for pepper to join you.

It had barely been five minutes before the last redhead showed up. Pepper was actually on time; Nat’s driving had just made you all early.

As pepper walked over Nat decided to tease her a little.

“Picking up on Tony’s habits there, pep?” Nat asked.

“Oh please.” Pepper rolled her eyes. “I’m the only reason he’s even at any of his meetings at all. Without me he wouldn’t just be late, he’d be missing.” She said and Nat laughed.

“True.” The assassin nodded.

“Alright, lets do this.” Pepper said smiling at you and Wanda.

The four of you headed into the mall. It was a little crowded but nobody seemed to mind. You just crossed your fingers that your spider senses stayed in check.

Pepper had barely made it ten feet in the door before she was dragging Natasha into a very expensive looking boutique.

This was how you spent the next hour. Pepper and Wanda dragged you and Natasha around, stopping at every pretty dress shop and expensive looking store in the complex.

After about an hour you were beginning to nurse a small headache and the tingle in the back of your mind told you all you needed to know for what was going to happen.

Nat had just stopped at a rack nearby before pulling wanda over to her. Holding out a dress you saw Wanda’s lips moving as she nodded, and Nat took the dress and disappeared into the change rooms.

It was a tight red cocktail dress and when Nat came back out to show it off you swear your jaw unhinged and landed on the floor.

It hugged her in all the right places.

Wanda was too busy ogling Nat to notice your reaction but pepper snorted a laugh before covering her mouth.

Nat pouted.

“What? Does it not look good?” Nat asked and you shot pepper a pleading look but she just smiled.

“No … no. I’d just say its … jaw dropping.” Pepper said winking at you as you glared at her with flushed cheeks.

“Yeah?” Nat asked raising an eyebrow and shooting you a look. “Then I guess I’ll have to get it then won’t i?” Nat said and you nodded eagerly. “Your lucky your cute Detka.” She said as she brushed past you on her way back to the change room. “Because your drooling.” She whispered in your ear and your blush darkened a good two shades of crimson.

Your headache was still getting worse and about a half hour later it was almost reaching full force.

You had found a dress and Nat was carrying four bags, one with a dress for you and her and the other three had a few random pieces of clothing for your day to day wardrobe and some room décor.

Just as you were beginning to think you wouldn’t be able to take anymore Wanda suggested the four of you get lunch from the café downstairs.

By now you were surprised none of them had noticed your discomfort, despite trying to hide it it was still bothering you.

The fluorescent strip lights that lit the mall were too bright and seemed to be burning your retinas with each blink.

The noise level despite not exceeding regular mall noise levels was almost deafening in your sensitive ears.

Even the mixed smells of fast food and perfumes was making your head swim.

Your headache pounded behind your eyes as well as almost throughout your full skull. There was a buzzing in your ears that sounded like the electricity in the walls that simply wouldn’t shut up.

Your stomach was rolling from the mixed smells and it was just too loud and too bright.

As you slid into the booth next to Nat, with wanda and pepper on the other side facing you, you resisted the urge to crawl under the table and cry.

Your headache thundered in your ears and pounded on your skull.

Your headache was in full force and Pepper must have noticed how quiet you were being as she looked you over with a knowing gaze.

She took note of your pinched brow and slightly sweaty forehead, how you were biting down on your lip and squinting. As well as how you flinched as someone in the café banged their cutlery against their plate.

Wanda noticed peppers look and was now looking at you too with a frown which drew Natasha’s eyes to you as well.

The conversation had reached a lull as all three women studied you. You were too zoned out to notice their attention all being on you.

“Y/n?” Wanda asked slowly.

“Yeah?” You said looking up and sounding absolutely wreaked.

“Are you ok?” Wanda said looking slightly worried.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” You said not even believing your own words. Your voice was lathered in a tired tone. You shook your head while saying this only managing to anger your headache more as you winced and brought a hand to your head, squeezing your eyes shut tight.

Feeling nauseous you leant on nat and rested you head on her shoulder. Nat seemed almost surprised at your sudden desire for contact.

She held you close to her as your body relaxed into her side having no more energy to hold yourself up.

“Y/n?” Pepper asked softly.

“Mmm?” You hummed as you vaguely heard shuffling before you sensed someone close to you.

Opening an eye slightly you saw pepper crouching next to you.

“Y/n?” she asked softly. “Do you get the same thing peter does honey?” Her voice stayed low and quiet. You turned your face into Nat’s neck and weighed up your options before giving a small nod.

You miss the frown that adorns Wanda’s lips at the news that something was wrong and pepper seemed to know what it was despite you never having mentioned anything about this.

Pepper stood again and looked over at Nat and Wanda.

“She’ll be alright. Just stay here and I’ll be back. I’ll explain in a minute.” Pepper said and she took off in a brisk walk to a nearby shop.

After pepper had darted off she wove through the crowd and into a tech store, making a purchase before making one more stop and then hightailing it back to the café.

When she returned you’s seemingly not moved an inch while Wanda and Nat were talking in hushed tones. Nat had her arm around you and was holdin the back of your head into her neck as you seemed to be almost trembling from all the overstimulation.

When pepper came back Wanda sat a little straighter while Nat eyes the two new shopping bags pepper was carrying.

Pepper came to crouch beside you giving you a small nudge that set your skin on fire.

“Y/n?” She asked softly. “Can you look at me honey, you can keep your eyes shut, I promise these will help.” She said coaxing you out of Nat’s neck.

You faced her with your eyes squeezed shut as she slid a black pair of noise cancelling headphones over your ears and switching them on.

The blissful sound of quiet almost made you cry as your headache lessened. A moment later you felt pepper place something on your face before cautiously opening one eye to find the world dimmer and more tolerable.

Now decked out with the headphones and sunglasses you felt a lot better. You were exhausted and the headache was still present just less intense.

You watched as Wanda, Nat and Pepper conversed, the sound not reaching you. Pepper seemed to be explaining what was happening to them based off the sad look wanda gave you.

Pepper explained that your powers increased your senses, and that in the right conditions they were very helpful in fights. But were more than problematic in a domestic setting. She explained that it wasn’t unheard of for peter to get overstimulated when out or somewhere loud. She went on to tell them she recognised the look peter had when he tried to simple tough it out when they went out.

Wanda felt awful that your powers had caused you pain.

Nat however was already planning to talk to tony about getting something built to help.

Once pepper had explained the extent of the issue and some of the things that helped, the three seemed to change gears, looking to be making plans now instead.

After they had finished talking Pepper decided to try something.

She turned to face you and moved her hands to form some simple signs. Your face lit up in recognition.

*How are you feeling? * Pepper signed.

*tired* you signed back.

Nat and Wanda looked surprised.

“How did you know she knew sign?” Wanda asked.

“Peter seemed to know some when he first was with us.” Pepper explained. “I assumed Y/n might also know some if peter did.”

You could tell what they had asked. “My dad was hard of hearing. He taught us sign at a young age before … he died.” You said and pepper nodded.

*We are going to go home* pepper signed but you shook your head.

*you stay here, I’ll go. I don’t want to ruin things* you signed.

*nonsense* pepper signed and you knew based off Nat’s eyes she was following along.

Nat had learnt sign language from Clint in the academy when they were partners. Clint had insisted in case his hearing aid were ever damaged in a fight.

You sighed realising you weren’t going to win this one.

*ok* you signed and hesitated for a moment before continuing. *thank you*. You signed.

*your welcome* pepper signed back and Wanda offered her hand to you.

Holding Wanda’s hand, the four of you headed for the car park.

You felt bad for ruining the trip, but Nat shot you a look when she saw you getting lost in your head that banished all thoughts.

Once you were in the car, Wanda had insisted on driving. Nat was riding with pepper to try and find out more about what was going on. You kept the headphones and sunnies on the whole ride home as you zoned out slightly.

Wanda droves slowly so she didn’t throw you around while Pepper and Nat sped back to try and organise things for when you get back.

When you arrived, you were almost asleep leaning into the passenger door.

Wanda coaxed you out of the car and led you by the hand up the lift and down the hall to her room.

You were beyond exhausted as Wanda lifted the sheets and got you settled under the thick comforter.

She ordered Jarvis to dim the lights and soundproof the room. She thanked Tony for the added features in her mind as she felt you snuggle into her side.

A few moments later the door opened slightly to reveal Nat and Pepper peaking in.

“Is she asleep?” Nat asked and Wanda studied your breathing.

“Not yet.” Wanda responded.

“Well we have some pain meds for her.” Pepper said as they both came inside and handed wanda a glass of water.

After coaxing you into taking some medicine, you laid back down against Wanda was was massaging your head as you melted in her lap.

Pepper and Nat had dropped by Bruces lab to pick up peters pain meds for you before coming to Wanda’s room where Jarvis said they could find you.

You fell asleep not long after taking the medicine which had finally gotten rid of your headache.

#wandanat x r #avenger reader #fanfic #wandanat #natasha romanov #wandanat x reader #wanda maximoff #marvel #comfort #fluff #whump #overstimulation #reader gets overstimulated #spider reader #spiders sister #y/n parker #peter parker #spiderman #pepper potts #tony stark #avengers compound #marvel comfort #natasha romaoff #spider senses #shopping trip #avengers #sign language #slow burn #chapter four #fanfiction

[greenhousethree]

Chasing chapter four - Feint

She stood there in her towel a little longer, pressed up over the sink the way she remembered watching the older girls do. Longer, curvier bodies than she’d ever imagined herself fitting into, impossibly grown up. Women. Searching for imperfections, she’d assumed— anything they could magic or pluck away before slipping on higher skirts and fuller bras. But maybe instead they’d been doing what she was now, studying themselves to figure out whether this was it— a glimpse beyond the fleetingness of adolescence— if the person staring back was the one she had grown into, not one she would grow out of.

Reflections, rain, and revelry.

Many, many thanks for all of your check-ins/questions during this unexpected hiatus; they've truly meant the world! This one's long and a little heavy— prepare for teenage riffraff and two parties for the price of one— and if you're craving more scenes with a certain green-eyed someone, stay tuned for chapter five!

Listen below for Hermione's party soundtrack and Ginny's character theme!

Playlist can be found here. 💫

Songs for chapter four (real bangers here): Maybe Sprout Wings - The Mountain Goats Begging for Rain - Maggie Rogers Flying Sails (Ginny's Theme!) - The Gothard Sisters Bones - Radiohead I Hope I Didn't Just Give Away the Ending - New Radicals

P.S. - Quick update on the progress of this fic:

Life and work have been a runaway train these past months, but I'm finding more time for ~balance~ (read: writing) and am hoping to keep that going. That said, I won't continue promising quick updates because I'm terrible at delivering those, but rest assured this fic isn't going anywhere, and I'm looking forward to posting more regularly. Thanks a million to all of you following along; answers to asks are forthcoming 💕

#at long last #teenage ennui by the truckload with this one #and the boys split up a bar brawl #my favorites from the playlist so far #chapter four #chasing #ginny weasley #hinny #hermione granger #quidditch

[sweetblinginrose]

𝘀𝘄𝗲𝗲𝘁 𝗰𝗵𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗻𝘂𝘁,

(Billy Hargrove x fem¡OCMayfield)

Samantha Danielle Mayfield finally decides to move to Hawkins with her sister and mother, as well as her mother's new husband and his arrogant son, William "Billy" Hargrove. What they are unaware of is that, gradually, these step-siblings will discover that the line between contempt and passion is more fragile than they supposed, and what begins as shared hostility turns into an intense and undeniable attraction that both find themselves unable to reject.

warnings: read at your own risk, as it includes a continuous sexual environment, profanity, mention of death and suicide, stepsibling relationship, sex, and all its derivatives.

autor’s note: this work is entirely my own creation. that is to say, i have not based it on anyone else, so any resemblance to any other work is purely coincidental, as i have been using this format for all my stories since 2019. i hope you enjoy the story. if you find any translation errors, something you don't understand, or similar, please let me know :p

Chapter one Chapter two Chapter three

━━ ✧♡✧ ━━ ✧♡✧ ━━ ✧♡✧ ━━

Chapter four: Private Dancer - Tina Turner

The rain hit the windshield with a constant rhythm, as if marking the beat of Billy's anger. The windshield wipers moved from side to side, trying to clear the view, but the storm was persistent.

Inside the car, the radio played a hard song, almost drowned out by the sound of the rain. Billy adjusted the volume, letting the strong melody fill the space. The dashboard lights shone dimly, creating an intimate atmosphere in which he was alone with his thoughts.

The air smelled of wet earth, a scent that mixed with the perfume he had chosen for the occasion. Every red light was a pause in his internal monologue, a moment to catch his breath and rehearse in his mind what he would say when he saw the girl he had charmed that night. As he drove, the deserted streets and blurry buildings became the backdrop of his adventure. The city seemed different in the rain, more mysterious, as if it held secrets that were only revealed to those who dared to explore it under the veil of water.

Billy finally arrived, parked the car, and remained silent for a moment, watching the drops slide down the window. He forgot about his date and began to brood over the bad day he had had and how his relationship with his stepsister was getting worse, feeling a slight feeling of sadness that dissipated instantly when a teenager opened the door as his neon lights pointed. She wore only red lace panties that delicately hugged her curves, along with a short lace nightgown that completely exposed her breasts. The reason for their meeting that night was evident. Billy immediately forgot about what had happened during the day, allowing a mischievous smile to form on his face.

Hurriedly, he turned the key and stepped out of the car to avoid getting wet in the rain, although it was futile, since it was impossible, but it was worth it "Who would have thought that all that heat would be in that body today?" he purred with a deep voice, wrapping his arm around the girl's waist and pushing her hips towards his so she could feel his erection, which was already present before seeing his companion that night but she had further fueled his desire

"You did well to let me know your parents wouldn't be home. You needed a babysitter, right?"

The girl simply laughed at his comment, grabbing Billy's denim jacket and pulling him into the house, closing the door behind them.

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, the noisy night was accompanied by the soft sound of a brush against skin. Sam stood in front of the mirror, her movements reflected in the polished surface as she meticulously applied her makeup. The dim light in the room barely revealed her figure, but her eyes reflected a fierce determination. It was the calm before the storm, the preparation for an escape that promised to be as exciting as it was dangerous.

Max watched from the slightly open door, her silhouette barely visible in the threshold "Are you sure about this?" she asked, her voice a whisper that mingled with the darkness.

Sam did not respond immediately, her unwavering concentration as she carefully traced the last eyeliner stroke "Of course, it's easy. You just have to tell them I'm sleeping and not to come into my room", she finally said, her voice full of a confidence that needed no more words.

With one last look in the mirror, Sam stood up, her straight posture defying any doubts that may have existed.

Less than half an hour later, the sound of a familiar engine began to be heard in the distance, a sign that her plan could begin. With high heels in one hand and an umbrella in the other, she carefully opened the window, trying not to make noise. Just as they opened the front door, Sam closed it.

The cold night breeze caressed her face, and a shiver ran down her spine. Despite her careful planning, she couldn't help but sigh in frustration as she felt the mud splash against her bare feet.

Around the corner, Vicki's car came into view, an oasis of fun in the midst of the rainy night. The lights inside illuminated their conspiratorial smiles. "Sammy, get in quickly!" Vicki exclaimed, while Nicole nodded enthusiastically. Sam slid into the backseat, closing the door just as a laugh escaped her lips.

"You have no idea what we have in store for tonight" Nicole began, with her typical annoying girl accent, chewing gum while the car pulled away, leaving behind Samantha's silhouette "Last year's Halloween party was epic, and Tina promised to surpass herself this year".

The excitement for the start of vacations was palpable in the air, almost as dense as the rain that had pounded the streets minutes earlier. But now, the storm had calmed, leaving a trail of shiny drops on the asphalt that reflected the lights of the town.

The three friends, enveloped in a bubble of laughter and plans, talked non-stop. Between confessions and promises of an unforgettable night, the conversation turned to how they would let themselves be carried away by the euphoria of the moment, how they would dance without inhibitions and perhaps flirt with boys under the starry sky that was beginning to appear.

The night promised to be one of those stories that would be told over and over again, each time with more details and more color, as if time embellished the memories. And as Vicki's car slid down the road, the three friends plunged into the anticipation of what was to come, a summer that could be the best of their lives.

They drove through a neighborhood adjacent to Tina's, where a residence stood out, the only one lit on the entire street. The young women chose to pass by without paying attention, absorbed in their conversation about what cassette to play next. In that same residence, Billy was immersed in a difficult task.

Everything went smoothly from the start, but preconceived notions about his stepsister resurfaced in his mind, stopping him at key moments and deeply unsettling the young man. The blonde clenched his eyelids tightly to avoid thinking about it, while executing intense movements that resonated throughout the house.

The girl called the boy, imploring him to look at her and utter words of misconduct at the same time.

(These kids these days and their strange tastes... (≖᷆︵︣≖))

Billy thought it was a good idea, but as he opened his eyes, he thought he saw his stepsister's face in the girl, moving away precipitously, rubbing his eyes fiercely to confirm her identity.

"I have to go..." he announced suddenly, adjusting his pants while his excitement persisted. It could be said that even more... The girl was stunned, not knowing what to do or say.

Hargrove, still panting and sweat-drenched, tried to adjust his bulge, but his tight jeans didn't cooperate in those moments.

Before the girl could react completely, the boy slipped out, closing the door of the residence in her face, hurrying to his car, where anger took hold of him, hitting the steering wheel repeatedly and repeatedly honking the horn, scaring the stray cats that wandered the wet street. Seconds later, a smile returned to his face as he looked at himself in the mirror, running his fingers through his hair and checking the time again, remembering that a girl, whose name he barely remembered, was hosting a party his friends were attending. He quickly forgot about the girl and set off towards the address written on a piece of paper, located among used condom wrappers and cassettes.

He left confident, confident that he would find numerous attractive girls who had come to town for the summer, and that he could seduce with his charming rebel surfer's charm, and enjoy the company of his equally uninhibited friends.

The tires slid on the deserted streets. The engine of his car murmured softly in the quiet night. The streetlights blinked as he passed, reflecting on the hood like shooting stars. As he approached Tina's house, the music grew louder, a persistent bass that throbbed in his chest. Upon arrival , he parked with a loud screech and stepped out of the car. The house was lit up like a lighthouse, laughter and chatter floated in the air. In the front yard, his friends were huddled together, dancing shadows against the warm light emanating from the house.

"Billy, Billy!" they shouted in unison, their voices rising above the music. The bottles in their hands glistened in the moonlight as they raised their arms in a jubilant greeting. "Billy, Billy, Billy!" they sang, again and again, their words becoming a welcome anthem, a cheerful and unrestrained melody that celebrated his arrival.

The blonde responded with a smile, the warmth of the welcome mixing with the coolness of the night. These were his people, his moment, and the night had only just begun.

With a triumphant smile, Billy made his way through his friends and took the bottle of Jack Daniel's from Tommy's hands. He lifted it in a bold gesture and, without hesitation, tilted his head back, letting the amber liquid flow freely. The whiskey slipped down his throat, a warm current that promised euphoria and uninhibition. When he finished, he let out a triumphant shout, a roar that resounded with the energy of the night. A few rogue drops of Jack Daniel's escaped from the corners of his mouth, tracing a damp path down his neck and disappearing under the fabric of his t-shirt. His friends burst into laughter, the sound of their joy mixing with the music inside and the shouts of jubilation.

One of them, still laughing, handed him a cold beer. "To finish off, champ!" they encouraged him, as Billy accepted the bottle with a knowing smile. He opened it with a snap and brought the edge to his lips, ready to continue the celebration. The party was in full swing and, in just a few seconds, Billy was the undisputed protagonist of the night.

The atmosphere was electric, charged with laughter and the murmur of animated conversations. The notes of a soft and seductive song floated in the air, mingling with the bittersweet aroma of beer. They had spent an hour talking about their conquests and academic failures, each anecdote more hilarious than the last. The night was young and the possibilities, endless.

With high spirits fueled by alcohol and camaraderie, they decided to venture into the heart of the party. The house, lit up with dim lights and decorated with colorful garlands, vibrated to the rhythm of the music. As they entered, their bodies began to move almost instinctively, letting themselves be carried away by the melody that promised more than just a dance. That's when he saw her. A silhouette that immediately captured his attention, a girl who danced with the same passion and grace as the slow and sensual song that played. Her hair moved in waves to the rhythm of the music, and although he could only see her back, there was something about her posture that irresistibly drew him in. Surrounded by friends, she was the center of a whirlwind of laughter and fluid movements. With determined but gentle steps, he began to approach. Every step was a beat of the song, every movement a line of the story that was about to be written. The distance shortened and the anticipation grew; he was about to enter the orbit of the unknown, ready to join the dance and discover where the night would take them.

With determined steps, he approached the brunette, letting the music envelop them in its seductive melody. His compliments flowed naturally, expressing his admiration for her skillful movements. With a bold gesture, he slipped his arm smoothly around the girl's waist, feeling the curve of her back under his touch as he pulled her closer to him. The closeness was intoxicating; Billy's hips fit perfectly against the girl's back, forming an intimate connection that moved to the hypnotic rhythm of the song. Every movement was a sensual dance, an improvised choreography that enveloped them in an aura of irresistible attraction. Initially, the girl seemed to tense up, ready to push him away abruptly, but as she felt Billy's firm grip and noticed his athletic physique pressing against her, her reaction changed. Although she still couldn't see him, the sensation of his muscled arm clinging to her, his toned torso against her stomach, and his deep voice resonating in her ear, sparked a spark of intrigue and excitement in her. Moreover, the effect of alcohol clouded her inhibitions, causing worries and doubts to fade into the mist of the party. In that state of disregard and euphoria, she decided to go with the flow, allowing the chemistry of the moment to envelop them in a dance of desire and mutual attraction.

Through the haze of the drink, one of her friends watched every move, although their minds were not entirely clear. The other, with a playful smile, leaned against the other and murmured something unintelligible, but clearly amused. The friend turned and laughed, completely oblivious to her friend's confusion. The stranger with whom she was dancing led her with confidence. The friends, in their alcoholic state, began to speculate with knowing looks and comments between laughs. "Who is that hunk?" one asked, while another replied with an exaggerated shrug. Finally, when the song ended, the expressions of the friends went from amusement to astonishment. "It's Billy!" they exclaimed in unison, their voices rising above the music.

With every move, Billy drew closer to the unknown girl. His hands, skillful and determined, gently roamed the contours of her body as his lips delicately explored the exposed skin of her neck. The touch of his lips sent shivers down the girl's spine, who let herself be carried away by the exhilarating sensation of the moment.

Without warning, Hargrove took the initiative and spun the girl around, pulling her towards him with a fiery impulse. Their kiss was like a spark that ignited desire in both of them, a fire that threatened to consume them completely. Billy's hand slid firmly to rest on the curve of the girl's hip, while his other hand gently clung to her nape, intensifying the contact between their bodies. The sound of the girl's laughter whispered in Billy's ear, causing a mischievous smile to form on his lips. They separated briefly, but their gazes remained connected, charged with complicity and desire. However, when they finally recognized each other, a mix of surprise and complication took hold of their faces, breaking the spell of the magical moment they had shared.

"Sam!?"

#william hargrove #i dont know how this work #enemies to lovers #enemies #billy hargove x reader #new on tumblr #stranger things 3 #stranger things 2 #stranger things #things #billy hargove imagine #i dont know #billy hargrove x original character #oc character #oc #original character #step brothers #stranger #billy hargrove fanfiction #fanfic #neil hargrove #hargrove #smut #stranger things smut #billy #new #chapter four #Spotify

[snowbellewells]

CSSNS23 Fic Update: "Carolina Moon" Chapter Four

I am more than a little embarrassed and sorry about how long it has taken me to update this story. It was never my intention to keep you waiting so long. However, here at long last is an update, and I hope to have another one to you this week yet - and this to be more regular (at least close to weekly) in the future. Thank you THANK YOU to those who have been patient and stayed interested in this story. I hope you will enjoy this new chapter!

Thank you as ever to the @cssns for running such a wonderful event that I have always been thrilled to be part of. And thank you for the gorgeous fic cover art to @eastwesthomeisbest and to @xarandomdreamx for the massively encouraging beta reading and thoughtful comments.

Can be read from the beginning HERE on Tumblr or HERE on AO3

Summary: Emma Swan has returned to the town she grew up in, and the past that has haunted her no matter where she has run. She seeks answers and peace at last. Despite the years that have passed, some things haven't changed very much in Storybrooke, South Carolina, and one of those things is Killian Jones. He never forgot the gangly girl with the world on her shoulders and pain in her eyes, but will he finally be able to slip past her defenses and help her find the answers she seeks?

Chapter Four: No Use Running Anymore

Killian Jones felt his own breath rasping frighteningly in his lungs, barely forcing its way raggedly through his chest as he watched Emma shuddering in his loose embrace, her whole body trembling and the gaze in her eyes glassy and faraway. It scared him, the intensity of the power which had taken her over - beyond either of their control - and he wasn’t sure what to do to help her. He could keep her from collapsing to the ground and lying there boneless in the dark, from hitting her head or flailing her arms, but Killian was at a loss as to how he might reach her wherever she had retreated to in her mind.

Finally, drawing in a sharp gasp for oxygen, Emma’s lungs seemed to fill, and she began to breathe more normally, her eyes were on her trembling hands and she edged far enough away that there was some distance between them, as if embarrassed at having leaned on him and letting him witness her what she’d just gone through. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and it  was clear she still felt uncertain and off balance; the weak tremor still running through her limbs as the after effects were visibly obvious. And yet it was the haunted pain clouding her eyes that held him captive, unable to blink, move, or even look away - though he could sense she would like him to do so. Emma might be able to read most of the folks around her and think to hide her own thoughts and feelings, but to him she was an all-too-open book.

At least somewhat assured that she was herself again, well on the way to recovering her breath and her composure, Killian’s mind returned to her staggering revelation without any conscious effort on his part. “Emma… what you said… about Rose’s killer? What did you mean?” he questioned gingerly. His dark brows lowered over his eyes intently, studying her with a concerned but necessary focus. “You said she wasn’t the only one.”

Looking up to meet his searching gaze, Killian could see Emma’s reluctance, and he hated himself for pressing her, even as he knew she needed him to do so. Still, the film of tears he saw in her green eyes and the way one spilled over the lower lid and trailed down her cheek, was almost his undoing; he bit back words rescinding the question with all the force he could muster. This was important, painful or not. Though he knew Emma had to recover, and that she had lived with her abilities - her “sight” - being pushed aside, ignored, belittled, even persecuted, all her life, there was a reason she could see the things she did. Her supernatural knowledge could help as well as hurt. He knew she had used it for just such a purpose in the years she had been gone. He might not have found the right time to tell her yet, but he had followed her successes in Boston, devouring each news story of the “psychic” - he could just see her huff of disbelieving annoyance at the catch-all term too - who could find missing people when all others had lost hope. He had cherished each article of a child found, holding every tidbit of praise for her close to his chest. He didn’t know how things had fallen apart in Boston, or what exactly had brought Emma back to Storybrooke, but he mourned the scars of youth that still lingered in her bearing. A part of him had never stopped hoping she might one day return, but he would never have wished for her to remain so alone and so haunted.

Her trembling fingers caught at his suddenly, as he moved to brush her hair from her flushed cheek, and she held on tight, needing his steadiness like a lifeline in a howling gale. Those wide, emerald orbs were searching his as if not sure what to make of his question. “W-what did you just ask me?” she murmured, voice fragile as a butterfly’s wing on the still night air amidst the crickets chirping and bullfrogs calling from ponds hidden in the trees at their backs.

Was she really so used to being doubted? After so many times she had saved lives, provided answers no one else could, and proven herself over and over, was it still that much of a shock to be taken seriously? Killian was ready to follow her lead, to charge into action at her back, once she had her bearings again and he was sure she would be alright.

“You aren’t going to ask how I know? Where the pictures come from? If - If I’m sure they’re real?”

He shook his head gently, never breaking eye contact with her for a second. This was important, and he needed her to see he meant every word. “Of course not, Lass,” he finally answered, words calm but sure. “I’ve known you all my life and have never known you to lie - or to be wrong in the visions you’ve seen… no matter how they might hurt.”

Looking down at their joined hands, their fingers now intertwined as he held onto her just as tightly. “No questions asked?” she mumbled dazedly, as though encouraging herself to take him at his word. “Really? Just like that?” And when she raised her face to meet his eyes again, there were still the shining tracks of tears on her cheeks, but they were no longer falling; she had blinked them away and a look of willful determination was taking over her features. “Why?” was all she whispered then, staring at him so open and raw it seemed as if she wanted to drink in his every word. “Why would you do that?”

Killian brought their joined hands up to his lips, bowing his dark head slightly over them as he hardly dared breathe, pausing to make sure she wouldn’t pull away before pressing the softest pursing of his lips to her knuckles and holding them there, breathing warmth against her skin. “Because, Emma, as I said… I know you. Love and trust, even basic kindness, have been all too rare in your life. People have always treated you a certain way - the wrong way - doubting you, hurting you, using you until they don’t need you anymore, and then throwing you away.” He wet his lips, trying to gather his nerve and praying he wasn’t about to say more than he should - or that he hadn’t done so already - then plunged on. “I aim to be different. I’m right here with you for the long haul, if you’ll have me.”

For a moment, Emma seemed frozen, stunned beyond response, but she finally shook her head wonderingly and offered him a tremulous smile, still clutching his hand but moving to stand, which he did as well, then helped her up beside him. “How did you…?” she finally asked breathily.

A crooked smile pulled at one corner of his mouth as Killian sighed, gingerly moving to tuck her hand in the crook of his elbow and guide her back toward his truck, still idling on the rough shoulder of the quiet country road. “I know that lost look in your eyes all too well,” he explained as best he could while he helped her with the high step up into the cab. “Our circumstances may be different, but the feeling is the same. We’ve both been lost for too long.”

He closed the door with those words, but Emma caught at his sleeve through the open window, keeping him in place before he could round the front of the vehicle. “Thank you,” she whispered - only two small words, but full of meaning. She would take the support, the belief in her, he was offering. She had been fully prepared for him to back away, to be too discomforted by what the visions did to her for him to stick around. She’d experienced more people like that in her life than she could count or even remember. But instead, Killian had witnessed the flashes of horror and darkness sweep over her, seen how much it took out of her and he was still standing right there looking at her the same way he always had. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so surprised. Rose had been the only person who truly seemed able to understand the magnitude of her gift and curse and was always there trying to help in any way she could. It made a poetic sort of sense that her brother might do the same.

“We have to look into this, Killian. If Rose w- wasn’t the only one…” she stumbled at the thought of her friend’s pale, bruise-mottled limbs against the muddy ground that morning so long ago, swallowing down the nausea in heaving gulps. “If her killer’s kept on all this time… I should have known. I should have done something…”

Tremors seized her once again until Killian pulled her into his chest, holding her tight until she steadied, and then pulling back just enough to firmly cradle her cheeks in both hands, pulling her focus back before she could sink into the void grappling to pull her under. “Hey, no, none of that,” he coaxed firmly, holding her steady until she nodded her assent. His own heart was beating against the confines of his chest, but he would calm it later; Emma needed his certainty. “We’ll figure it out, Swan. I promise you that. If you’ve seen there are others we need to find, Love, then that is exactly what we’ll do.”

*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*

Early evening dusk had come to rest lightly on the rumpled covers, smushed pillows, and his clothes tossed haphazardly all around the room when Dr. Graham Hunter blinked back into awareness near the dinner hour. Groggily, he berated himself for dozing off so early while attempting to piece together why he had stripped stark naked and went to bed before even having any supper. Then, his brain caught up with him, and he sighed, Ruby’s arrival in his office downstairs, her seduction and his weakness in falling for it once again, all coming back to him in a rush. He scrubbed a tired hand down his face and felt the weight of realization pressing heavily on his shoulders - even before he turned to look at the pillow beside him and his hand reached out for her to find empty space.

He was a fool. When it came to Ruby, he always had been, Graham admitted to himself as he rolled over with a frustrated curse, allowing himself a whiff of her decadent camelia perfume and honeyed musk on the pillow before flinging it away with a growl. How he fell into this pattern with her - crawling to her on his knees when she crooked her finger or batted an eye his way, and then waking up alone and picking up the pieces of his shattered dignity when she vanished (and she always did) - he wasn’t quite sure. He had fallen for it years ago, and yet somehow, despite knowing better, he was still such a lovesick pup over her that he settled for the scraps she offered him every time.

A noise downstairs caught his attention suddenly, breaking into the well-known litany of shame and self-recrimination. Maybe her trying to slip out unnoticed had been what woke him from his doze. Without pausing to think or second guess, Graham vaulted out of bed, pulled on the track pants he’d draped over the chair in the corner after his morning run, and pounded down the stairs, intending to catch Ruby before she made her quick exit. Fueled by angry hurt and adrenaline, he could only think she wasn’t going to get off quite so easily this time.

He caught her with her fingers grasping the door handle, her wicked heels held tightly in her other hand; her intentions blatantly clear. At his strangled call of her name - sounding a far sight more desperate than he’d meant for it to - she whipped around with a guilty, wide-eyed look painted across her face as she stared back at him over her shoulder. Neither of them moved or spoke for several long moments; Graham because he was practically vibrating with desperation, hurt, and anger in equal measure, Ruby seemingly waiting to see what he would do.

‘Or figuring out if she could sweet talk her way back into his good graces,’ his more realistic inner voice chided. ‘Had he still not learned how ridiculous he was to hope for anything else from her?’ Trying to steel his heart against the natural inclination to charm and cajole her back upstairs, to try to get her to stay while he made supper and to spend the evening together - just spend time with him out of bed, actually allow him to get to know her, or even show that she could want something more from him than the occasional physical thrill he could provide.

Before he could find a way to put any of this into words, Ruby tilted her head slightly, a guarded and slightly embarrassed half smile pressing a sweet little dimple into her cheek as she prepared to wheedle her way out of the awkward spot, just as he had predicted.

“Hey there, Handsome,” she crooned, the smile growing when he didn’t interrupt, clearly gaining confidence in her comfortable and familiar ploy. She let her graceful fingers release the door, her hand falling back to her side as she took a step closer to him. “Sorry if I woke you. I wanted to let you rest, even though I got a call and had to head out. No reason you shouldn’t be able to enjoy a break. You work hard enough, you’ve definitely earned it.”

Damn her for knowing exactly what she was doing to him! Graham swallowed hard as Ruby stood before him coyly biting her lower lip and staring up at him through her lashes innocently. One brightly lacquered red nail traced up along his bare chest between his pecs, and he struggled not to flinch, not to let the way his body immediately reacted to her touch be known.

But, of course, she did know what a word, a look, the slightest caress of hers could do to him. He had allowed her to play him like a fiddle too many times before for her to be convinced now by feigned indifference. Graham clenched his fists, closing his eyes for a moment and praying for strength, before catching her wrist and removing her hand from his chest, holding her gaze determinedly as a muscle in his jaw flexed with his aggravation and the amount of restraint it took not to pull her into his arms and give into her playful touch, pretend to buy the poor excuses and give into her charms. He didn’t want to force the coming confrontation; he knew it was going to hurt and likely wouldn’t end in any way he would hope for. Yet, he couldn’t go on blindly like this either - not anymore. He could only hope, deep down somewhere, as he barely allowed himself to wish in his quietest, most raw moments, that she needed more too, that she did care for him more than she wanted to admit. Maybe - just maybe - if he forced her into honesty, she might grasp it and open herself up rather than let him go.

“Please,” he managed to choke out, his voice rasping, but steadier than he had feared it might sound. “Just stop with the excuses,” he pressed on, hating the way her eyes clouded with hurt, those ridiculously big, liquid brown eyes he usually couldn’t deny a thing. “We both know there was no phone call. You just wanted to get out of here before I woke up and tried to get you to stay, to really be here with me longer than it takes for a romp and to scratch your itch. I’ve done a poor job of showing it,” he hurried on, seeing she was about to interrupt, “but I’m not a puppy to trail along behind you and be at your beck and call. You know how I feel about you, Ruby; I’ve been more than half in love with you since we were about ten years old. But I can’t live on scraps anymore. No matter how much…” The words back up and he shook his head angrily, turning his face from her when she reached out to him again.

He’d heard her gasp sharply at his declaration, but she too was shaking her head, a lone tear running down her cheek. There had never really been much hope left within him that she could give him what he needed; she wasn’t ready, or wouldn’t allow herself. The expression on her face and the tension in her long, lean frame - poised to run - told him all he needed to know.

Finally, his eyes dropped to the floor, no longer even wanting to look at her and think of all they could be together, and what he would never have. With a final exhalation of defeated breath, he gave her his terms. “Don’t sneak in here like this anymore, knowing how I feel about you, when you plan to sneak back out again with the sunrise and not give me anything of yourself in return. I can’t do it anymore.”

Ruby’s breath caught on a ragged inhale, as if she were gathering herself to argue with him and then the words fled her in the face of his honesty. He knew if he met her gaze it would be glossed  over with unshed tears, panic covering her features at losing the passion and connection they had always shared, but unable to expose her true self - her psyche, her heart, her soul - to keep him. He forced himself to hold his resolve; if he allowed her pain to catch at him, he knew he would have to comfort her. It was who he was, and where his weakness had always been when it came to Ruby Jones.

“Graham…” she finally whispered shakily, her voice a wavering breath not much like the silken purr she usually employed. “I can’t - you don’t understand - “

But he cut her off, gently taking a step back, a safer distance away from her before he crumbled and gathered her up in his arms. “I understand more than you think, Ru. You’re not the careless, untouchable vixen you try to play. There’s more to you, more than anyone else has bothered to see, more than you let show. I want that for you… and for us. And I can’t keep tearing myself apart hoping while nothing ever changes.”

Her shoulders slumped as she saw that his mind was made up, and she blinked moisture from her lashes quickly, biting her lip in determination that she wouldn’t be hurt enough to cry. “You’ll regret this, Graham. You know that, right? Can’t the fact that you are special to me, that I always come back to you, be enough?”

“Not this time, Ruby,” he murmured, sorry already, even as he spoke, but still adamant that he deserved more than the dregs of her attention, even if that meant she left his arms forever.

“You drive a hard bargain, Dr. Hunter,” she commented sadly, one last plaintive attempt at banter with a half-hearted smile that died before the upward curve of her lips was completed. “Ever think maybe you’re asking too much of me?”

But he shook his head slowly, studying her intently now - in a way that didn’t allow her to avoid him. “No, I don’t.” He spoke softly, deliberately, intoning the words that he genuinely believed. “For far too long, I haven’t asked enough. There is so much more within you, Ruby Jones. A capacity for love and greatness that you refuse to let yourself experience. I know that… whether you can see it yet or not.”

She shook her head regretfully, mouth twisted in a sort of grimace. “Then you may need to have your head examined,” she retorted, her hand on the door again.

With her almost gone, and not knowing when he would see her again, or be able to speak with her or touch her, or smell the sweetly ripe and enticing scent of the shampoo she used on that silky mahogany curtain of hair, Graham panicked a bit and recklessly reached out, clutching her upper arms and pulling her just close enough to press his lips to her forehead and breathe her in once more, knowing it might have to hold him indefinitely. He almost took it all back, but clung to his pride by the very tips of his fingers.

“You know, I’ll be here… right?” he murmured, breath hot across the skin of her brow. “If you ever decide you want to make a real go of this…”

Ruby had her pride too though, and that wildness and fear which twined together to keep her running and at enough of a distance from everyone that she had convinced herself she couldn’t be hurt. Tall and as elegant as a statue, that poise trained into her since she could walk, she let out a watery chuckle. “You had your chance,” she warned, trying for offhanded nonchalance. Though it fell far short of her mark, she didn’t back down. “I wouldn’t hold your breath.” She pushed the door open and slipped out of the clinic as quickly and quietly as she had appeared hours before.

Sadly, Graham sighed as he raked his hand through his disheveled curls before bowing his head in defeat. It hadn’t seemed that he had another choice, and yet in the moment he felt as though he had just made the worst possible mistake… and lost something he might never get back.

*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*

Once she’d left Graham’s clinic, Ruby found herself wandering aimlessly. Of course she’d returned to her snazzy little car and rummaged around in the duffle she’d stashed in the back for a more normal and less blatantly seductive outfit. She didn’t have any trouble wriggling into it in the backseat undetected. It was a slow, sleepy, late afternoon in a small town, creeping toward dusk, and there was no one in sight. However, by the time she had finished and settled herself back in the driver’s seat, Ruby was sniffing back tears and angrily wiping the silent tracks of those which had already escaped down her face. ‘Why did he have to ruin everything?’ ran on a fuming, repetitive loop in her head, crying out against her desire to shrug it off as if it didn’t matter that much anyway. They’d had some good times, and he was a catch, sure, but Graham Hunter wasn’t irreplaceable she tried to convince herself.  ‘He wasn’t happy with her in his bed? Fine. He’d be sorry once he’d been without for a little while.’

The rant she was trying to build up in her head sounded good, but she couldn’t put any feeling behind it - not really. She wasn’t even fooling herself. Graham was different from the other men she had charmed, toyed with, and strung along for a time. He always had been. She simply hadn’t wanted to admit that truth, and now it was boring its way into the center of her chest with all the strength of a drill bit. ‘How in hell had that happened?’ She’d sworn she wouldn’t give a real damn about anyone - not since even her own parents couldn’t be bothered to save a care for her. ‘How did he sneak through the cracks?’

‘Because he does care about you,’ a chiding but concerned voice that sounded a lot like how she remembered Rose’s whispered in her mind. He was there before you tried to lock everyone out, it added, and she shook her head, trying to scatter the unwanted reminders. With a growl of frustration, she swung back out of the little two-seater, noticing vaguely that though Storybrooke did not look very lively there were several small shops heading back toward the town square that had not yet closed for the day. ‘A distraction,’ she decided firmly, with a sharp dip of her chin and squared shoulders. ‘Take my mind off it for a minute, and before long, he’ll be in my rearview.’ The self-comfort rang a bit hollow, but she was already loping down the sidewalk with purpose, looking for something to catch her fancy.

The Sweet Shoppe on the corner had their door open, allowing a decadent and enticing scent of buttery pastry to drift out to passersby. Ruby grinned, cheered at least a little by the prospect of flaky layers of cinnamon sugar, crackly baked dough and butter in one of their famous pinwheels. One of those treats certainly wouldn’t right all that had gone wrong since she’d woken in Graham’s second story apartment an hour ago, but it surely couldn’t hurt, and she was grinning in spite of the hollow ache which had settled beneath her breastbone by the time she opened the door and entered the shop to the sound of the little bell above it chiming merrily.

Sure enough, she did feel rejuvenated after biting into the freshly-made and still warm delicacy. By the time she stepped back out of the bakery onto the sidewalk - one pinwheel happily devoured after practically melting in her mouth, and another bagged up for later in her hand - things didn’t look quite so bleak.

As Ruby headed on down the sidewalk, slowly starting to convince herself - for the time being at least - that she was recovering her equilibrium, she found herself reaching Emma Swan’s new store front, the displays in her window truly beginning to look much like a big city gallery and the potted flowers out front on the walk looking nearly ready for the upcoming grand opening. Some old, deep-seated pettiness stirred at first, as her dark eyes took in the signs of Emma’s determination not to quit - every bit as stubborn as any of the Joneses, too much so to back down, no matter who tried to keep her away.

But the longer she stood there on the pavement hopefully out of sight of anyone who might be inside since she was standing there gawking like she’d been frozen in place, Ruby couldn’t muster up the indignation and hateful bitterness she’d harbored before. Much as she had been hopeful to at last please her mother with her compliant agreement, or continue to feel hurt and jealous over the kinship Emma Swan had shared with her lost twin, the anger just wouldn’t come. In hindsight, with the light of day and the wisdom of years in between, she knew that Rose’s murder, the horror of that nightmarish day lost in the muggy, strangling soup of that long, horrible summer had not been Emma’s fault. In many ways, Emma had been another victim; one who kept being punished instead of laid to rest.

Despite the messes she had already made that day, Ruby determined that she was going to stop following the chosen family line. She would never earn Cora Jones’ elusive approval anyway, so why should she continue making herself and others miserable in pursuit of it? She had just reached out to try the door, just in case Emma was there, when the woman herself pulled into a parking space and exited the ancient VW that Ruby actually remembered her leaving town in years ago.

“Ruby Jones?” Emma questioned, her brow knit in concern as she moved to stand beside her on the sidewalk. “What are you doing here?”

Ruby shrugged a bit sheepishly, with what she hoped was a convincing smile. She wasn’t about to admit all that she’d just been thinking, and so she was at a loss for how to explain her presence. 

“You can’t think I’m crazy enough to leave the place unlocked, surely?” Emma queried, moving the bag she carried to the opposite arm and fishing a ring of keys from the bag at her side. “Not with how many people hate me setting up shop here. Speaking of, wouldn’t egging the place be a little simpler than trying to break in?”

She quirked a challenging brow at Ruby, but also waited patiently for an answer, standing in the opened doorway as the warm air drifted through around them. And Ruby had to give her that one; she had never dropped even a single hint that she would simply pay Emma a friendly visit.

Finally relocating her usual sass, she winked, slipping in the door on Emma’s heels before the other woman could change her mind. “Nah, that’s for the riff raff. I can do better than egging if I really want to make my point.”

“I bet you can,” Emma drawled, looking bemused by the whole situation.

Rather than saying anything else for a moment, Ruby roamed around the small but beautifully arranged space, taking in all that Emma had done to make the building her own and have it looking its best. She couldn’t help being drawn in by the photographs themselves as well. While she might have been too hardheaded to acknowledge it before, her eyes were open now to recognize that Emma Swan truly had a gift - one for capturing her subjects in a way Ruby had never seen the like of before.

Emma, meanwhile, had moved to the counter to deposit her things and turned to watch Ruby Jones with genuine curiosity. Not speaking, she merely observed, wondering what had changed to bring a self-appointed enemy to her doorstep, seemingly anxious to play nice. Someone could have knocked her over with a feather, as the old saying went, when Ruby suddenly turned with a broad smile from where she’d stopped to study a huge canvas bearing a close-up of a single, stunning, blood-red azalea blossom as its focal point. Some sort of mischievous glint was in her eye that Emma didn’t fully understand until she asked, “Any chance you’d sell this one to me before your official opening? It’s just the thing my mother ought to have for her birthday.”

Too startled to catch the surprised snort of laughter that escaped at Ruby’s words, Emma slapped a hand to her mouth, eyes wide in shock. The brunette vixen she had always somehow felt was looking down her nose at her, looked genuinely pleased with her reaction, her pearly white smile broadening even more to look sharp and dangerous as well as alluring.

When she thought herself capable of calm speech instead of disbelieving laughter, she met Ruby’s eye and replied, “Oh, that can certainly be arranged, especially for such an illustrious recipient as your mother.” Emma was capable of her own sweet as pie with steel beneath expression, and she employed it now with a stealthy smirk of her own that made Ruby’s eyes widen in their turn. “Of course, I might have to charge you extra for not letting me be there to see her face when you gift her with one of my photos.”

The deal was struck, and somehow the unexpected exchange between them was healing. Nothing more needed to be said, but the years of avoiding one another, skirting painful history and old grudges, were past, and a weight fell from both their shoulders. They were two completely different people, with very different experiences and unique wounds to bear, but the one person they both had in common, and the fierce, proprietary love each had held for her - which had always stood between them - had brought them together at last. Just as Rose had always wished. As they laughed at their own impudence, and the vision of Cora’s affronted face when she realized the full import of the present, Emma gift wrapped the large frame, and Ruby gladly paid her for her first sale. Emma could almost feel her old friend’s presence over her shoulder and the echo of Rose’s sweet voice cheering her on.

*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*

He’d nearly gotten caught that morning, lingered almost too long as the dawn’s first rays spread across the sky, bringing light and warmth to the the early gray and beginning to dry the dew on the grass. ‘Should have remembered the little hellcat can’t sleep through the night! Never has been able to!’ he cursed to himself as he awkwardly lunged into the deep underbrush a few feet from the porch. He felt damned lucky she’d chosen to come back to the little cabin of horrors so close to the woods, and so secluded from any neighbors… That could have been a fine end to things before they could really get going - and he’d bided his time far too long already, been more patient than a man should rightly have to bear - to get caught with his hand in his pants on her front porch and blow everything he’d worked for. She’d go running then - just like she’d done before.

Emma Swan would not escape him a second time. Just as they had been all those years ago, all the points were aligned, but now he was ready and prepared - he wouldn’t allow her to slip from his trap. Still, he needed to be careful… couldn’t afford any mistakes.

Dark, hungry eyes watched from the safety of the trees as the screen door flew open and his quarry dashed across the porch, down the rickety steps and into her car. He drank in her curves like a wino would savor the first sip from a hard-won bottle. Hard again, he gritted his teeth before succumbing to the empty pleasure of his own hand. ‘Not much longer,’ the mantra repeated in his head. ‘Not much longer, and she will be mine.’ 

It was almost too easy; she had stepped into his web better than he could have planned, more naturally than he had dared to hope. It wouldn’t pay to get overconfident, but he could feel everything falling into place.

Oh, he could bide his time a little longer - after all, he’d waited this long - but soon she would be within his grasp. Just the two of them, and no one near enough to interrupt, or be any the wiser. She wouldn’t be able to run from him then.

Tagging a few who may enjoy: @cssns @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @xsajx @sotangledupinit @winterbaby89 @bluewildcatfanatic @elizabeethan @donteattheappleshook @the-darkdragonfly @xarandomdreamx @booksteaandtoomuchtv @bdevereaux @caught-in-the-filter @anmylica @stahlop @hollyethecurious @artistic-writer @motherkatereloyshipper @jonesfandomfanatic @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @wefoundloveunderthelight @belovedcreation @scientificapricot @kday426 @linda8084 @lfh1226-linda @ineffablecolors @blowmiakisscolin @elfiola

#cssns23 #cs movie/book au fic #carolina moon #psychic emma #cs au mc #chapter four #fic update

[jomiddlemarch]

The shapes a bright container can contain!

IV. “This is a carriage house?” Hermione asked after first standing silent for a good two minutes, a length of time that seemed far longer when a witch was known to hurl herself into a squid-infested loch in early winter.

“You speak as if you have an extensive experience of real estate,” Draco retorted. 

“It’s quite a bit more house than I’d imagined,” she said. To exceed Hermione Granger’s imagination was a feat and Draco decided he’d follow the Muggle adage and begin as he meant to go on.

“Did you expect it to still contain carriages? Or horses? Tack?” Draco said. “Did you want a pony? That could be arranged, though I think an Arabian or an Abraxan hybrid—"

“No. Of course not,” she said. “But this is quite lovely. So thoughtfully appointed.”

“Thank you,” he said.

“Your wife had exquisite taste,” Hermione said.

“Yes, she did,” Draco replied. “You can see it in the main house. This was my project.”

“Oh, I see. I didn’t mean to imply,” she broke off. Somehow, this was what flustered her, this bit of gauche maladroitness, though she was staying in the home of a former Death Eater, a man who still bore the brand of a genocidal maniac on his forearm. She didn’t blush however; her eyes only widened and she seemed to lose what color she had. Draco decided he’d look after her well enough blushing became an option again.

“It’s all right. Why don’t I give you a tour of the place, get you settled,” he said. He wanted to offer her his arm, to feel her hand on him and keep her steady, but he suspected she would actually be as offended as she’d imagined he might just have been. He walked closer to her than would ordinarily be considered polite and kept the pace slow.

“This is the sitting room,” he said, gesturing around them. Two large chesterfields upholstered in dark green velvet sat on either side of a coffee-table strewn with periodicals and some art books, a bowl hewn from the base of a cypress at the center, filled with green apples. Squashy silk pillows in an array of jewel tones were tucked at either end of the sofas, a cashmere throw draped in a corner. A pair of club chairs bracketed the large fireplace, and an ancient Persian rug was underfoot. Long windows were surrounded by bookshelves, the bookshelves full of neatly arranged books that appeared much-handled. 

“It’s lovely. Looks very comfortable,” Hermione said. He beckoned her to follow him as he walked across the space and miraculously, she followed, her wand-hand empty.

“This is the kitchen. The table seats six, though it’s easy enough to enlarge it if you wanted to have more people over. You should have as many people over as you like,” Draco said. The table was a generously sized oval made of beautifully patinaed mahogany and he thought she would have preferred something sturdy and practical, a scrubbed oak. She’d want to set it with mismatched plates, a potluck with dishes randomly assembled or better yet, Indian takeaway with plenty of samosas.

“Is there a Transfiguration spell that preserves the wood better?” Hermione asked. 

“There’s a leaf. Though any standard Transfiguration you’d cast would be fine. It’s not a priceless antique,” Draco said.

“It looks like a Sheraton,” Hermione remarked. “I suppose that’s not priceless to you. It’s just Muggle.”

“It’s a fake. A fake Sheraton,” Draco said, shrugging, trying not to feel flustered and failing. “I like the look of Georgian furniture, but I didn’t want anything that would feel like a museum piece. I had enough of that, growing up. Except that that furniture was also cursed half the time.”

“Half, huh?”

“Closer to three-quarters in the North Wing. Dreadful place and you can’t even burn it to the ground,” he said. 

“A pity. I guess. This is the kitchen proper?” she said, moving past him into the room with its soapstone worktops, slate floors, sage green painted cupboards fitted as neatly as a ship’s galley, though there was plenty of space. A marble slab for pastry, a great hulking Aga prepared to cook a roast and warm the whole house, and tucked behind—

“That’s a butler’s pantry,” Draco said, as she poked her head around to peer in the narrow space.

“You thought this place needed a butler’s pantry? Is there a butler?” she asked, then paused, a look of bemused horror on her face. “Good Lord, is there a butler?”

“There’s no butler and no House-elves either, before you get yourself worked into a tizzy,” Draco said. He’d have liked to have Tizzy herself serving, earning the ample wage they’d negotiated, but he’d known that no matter how comprehensive the benefits, Hermione would be distressed to be waited upon by a creature in a toweling jumpsuit, unable to convince herself she wasn’t taking advantage. “I thought butler’s pantry sounded better than glorified closet. I will now pause to allow you to make some comment along the lines of me being a posh git.”

“You’ve made that unnecessary now,” Hermione said, horror passed, smiling again.

“There’s a butler’s pantry because I needed a defined space I could configure for electricity to work. Neville said you have very strong opinions about the Panis tosti charm—”

“It’s shite,” she interrupted. “Utter bollocks. It’s a travesty to call what it does toast and everyone knows it and won’t admit it. Molly Weasley has five different toasting forks because the charm is such shite—”

“As I said, Very Strong Opinions, duly noted. Also, he said you have slightly less Strong Opinions on toasting forks, I believe they hearken too much to the Edwardian period for your taste, and so I had to make sure there was some part of the house where you could make a proper piece of toast in a toaster,” Draco explained. He opened the little hatch that concealed the toaster. “There’s also a charging station for any devices that need it.”

“Oh my goodness,” she said.

“You probably won’t short it all out if you cast a spell, but I’d try to keep it to a minimum and no wandless. When you channel magic through your hands directly, it warps the wards I put up,” he said.

“You did a lot of work,” she said. “Went to a lot of trouble.”

“What part of looking after properly was obscure to a witch of your erudition and exactitude?” Draco said. She’d think he was teasing and he was but he also meant it, especially the praise, which he’d been told to expect her to shrug off.

She shrugged.

“You didn’t have to,” she said.

“I only did what I thought I must. What I thought you would do, without a second thought, if you were the one taking care of someone,” Draco said. 

“I’ve never gotten Harry a toaster,” she said. 

“But he doesn’t ever seem to miss all the Mugglish equipment he grew up with. He was happy to leave it all behind,” Draco said. 

“He does love everything Wizarding,” Hermione said. “Even Celestina Warbeck.”

Draco could not help his grimace then, but Hermione gave him a look of the purest camaraderie and appreciation, suggesting his expression had not put her off in the slightest.

“I shan’t say a word. About his taste in music at least,” he said. “There’s a water closet just at the back, before the conservatory. We might explore there a bit or would you rather see the sleeping quarters upstairs?”

He spent a considerable amount of time mulling over how he’d mention where she would sleep to minimize any awkwardness, knowing he didn’t want to utter the word bed but that she’d immediately pick up on any verbal contortions to avoid it.

“Did you have Neville to see to the conservatory?” she asked, prescient. Longbottom had spent a week and the entire budget Draco had given him, but the results were lovely and marvelously fragrant.

“Yes,” Draco answered.

“Then I’ll have an idea of what it’s like already and I’ll enjoy finding out how I’m wrong later,” she said. “Take me upstairs.”

#dramione #comfort fic #fluffy #angst #hermione x draco #draco POV #who doesn't love a house tour? #Hermione on Toast #chapter four #draco is very attentive to detail

[lexosaurus]

Twelve Hours: Chapter 4

Part 4 of 5 of my fic for Ecto Implosion, the DP reverse mini-bang (artists go first, writers go second)

read on: [ao3]

[see all chapters]

Characters: Danny Fenton, Harriet Chin, GIW (mentioned a lot) Tags: Identity Reveal, Flashbacks, Runaway Danny Fenton, Angst Chapter WC: 3961 Summary: When the GIW revealed Danny to the world, the only thing he could do was run. Run and run and run until he escaped to Chicago, trying desperately to disappear. Too bad it didn’t work.

****

“Although many operatives work within the Ghost Investigation Ward, you’ve been especially outspoken about one in particular. The same man we saw in the interview, actually,” Harriet said, weaving the conversation into a new topic.

He’d been expecting this, of course. Though he never connected the dots so blatantly to the public before, he’d made quite enough digs online and underhanded comments to the press that now any search related to the GIW was sure to result in at least one speculative title theorizing about Phantom’s relationship with one operative.

“Operative O,” Danny stated. “We have a history. Operative K too, even if I don’t talk about him as much.”

“And who was he to you, exactly?”

That really was the question, wasn’t it?

As much as he wanted to dodge the question just as he had done so many times before, he knew he had to metaphorically plant his feet and head straight into the incoming media shitstorm with his head held high.

At least he knew Jazz was backstage. She’d flown out for this, leaving her husband and two kids to fend for themselves in the meantime. And while he should have felt guilty for asking her to do this, overwhelmingly, he only felt relief knowing he had someone here. Danny wasn’t alone; he had someone to hold him and ward away all the darkness that was fighting to grab him with its acid-drenched claws and poison every vein in his body. Darkness that would certainly make its appearance later tonight while he was laying in bed second guessing every life decision that had led him to agree to do this interview at all. And when nightfall would come and Danny would be scrambling to call the station, begging them to please don’t air this episode, I’ll pay you whatever you want, this was a mistake, please don’t air it, Jazz would rip his phone from his fingers—smash it against the wall if she had to—and reassure him that everything was going to be okay. He just had to be brave.

He inhaled. Held. Exhaled.

Okay. He was ready.

“Operatives O and K were partners, and the main two operatives assigned to my case. They both seemed similar to the other operatives at first. Clean-cut, sticklers for the rules, dedicated to their jobs. But as time wore on…you know.” He tried not to squirm in his chair, and he failed. “I thought I knew what would happen if they caught me. I was just so sure I would never get caught that I didn’t think about it. And while I knew deep down that what they were showing me in public was just pretense, I wasn’t prepared for how—how—there’s no other way to say it, but how sadistic they truly were.”

“Both of them?” she asked.

“Sure, but O most of all. When they would punish me in the facility, he was usually the one to do it. Or he would order someone else to do it.”

“Did Operative K punish you at all?”

“Sure, they all did, but none as much as O. It was almost like…” He recalled how his lawyer directed him to phrase the next part. Stick to what happened. Stick to what the courts already know. “I could hear him laughing sometimes when he would punish me. He’d make comments, and he’d be smiling.”

“Do you feel as though he took pleasure from seeing you in pain?”

Yes, Danny wanted to shout. But he couldn’t. Legally. 

Harriet must have known he couldn’t say yes, though. She wasn’t stupid, and neither were the other writers or producers for this program.

Realization dawned on him all at once. They were offering a conclusion without Danny having to say it.

“I can’t say whether he enjoyed it or not,” Danny answered professionally. “I can only tell you what I experienced.”

Smartly, Harriet moved forward. “Do you think the experiences you’ve had with Operative O and K have impacted your relationships with people moving forward?”

“Of course,” Danny said as if it were obvious, because it was. “The abuse I received from them has affected every aspect of every relationship, no matter if it’s family, friends, potential love interests—everyone.”

“Is it hard for you to form new connections now, would you say?”

Forming them was hard, but maintaining them was even more so the impossible challenge that he and his therapist were still working through unpacking.

But who could blame him, really? Not with the very real paranoia that crept up his spine every time he picked up his phone to send a text. Even though Tucker reassured him over and over that the app they were using was encrypted, Danny, it’s okay to talk in here, how could they be sure?

Especially after what happened before?

****

03:00:00

Danny stumbled off the train. He’d spent so long hopping from station to station he’d all but forgotten where he’d been heading in the first place.

Which the answer to that was…nowhere in particular. He didn’t know where most homeless people slept in Chicago, and even so, he still hadn’t decided if it would be a good idea to join them. If just one person got too good of a look at him, he’d be dead.

And in the modern day, even the homeless had cell phones.

But this neighborhood looked safer. Or, at least, less populated. The houses and apartments were run down, and Danny was sure there were more than a few unsavory characters close by, but it was dark, quiet, and therefore, a good place to try to hide.

Or, at least, he hoped so. He’d never exactly tried to sleep anywhere other than in his or his friends’ houses before.

He glanced up at the sky. Though it was dark, when he put a bit of ectoplasm into his eyes, he could see the rolling clouds layering on top of each other.

Unlucky, of course. Since when did luck ever try to be on his side? His first day sleeping outside, and it was going to rain.

He tasted the air, and while the acrid humidity had increased into the evening, it still wasn’t strong enough for Danny to be worried. It would rain, but not yet. He still had time to find a shelter.

Or, whatever shelter he could scrounge up. 

His eyes, still alight with ectoplasm, shifted back in front of him, landing on a telephone pole some feet away. Ever unmistakable on the wood was that damn green sticker with the bird so neon it almost glowed back at him.

“Can’t fucking escape them,” Danny growled, whipping around to walk in the other direction. If that street was going to show its hostility so openly, then fine, he’d just go away.

Just like he always did.

He turned a corner, walking by a brick house that would have been lovely if not for the set of caved-in steps leading up to the door, or the window that looked like it had been shattered by a brick. Danny wondered if anyone was squatting there. Maybe he could hide in there, just for now.

But…what if someone else had the idea first? And then that person called the GIW on him? He could check invisibly, but what if people in Chicago were just as adept at feeling when a ghost entered their room as people in Amity were? It was too risky. He couldn’t do something so bold as go inside an abandoned house.

If not there, though, then where else? Where could he go? Was he forever barred from ever getting shelter, getting safety? Was he only destined to continue searching and searching, coming close but never finding a place to be like some sort of twisted version of Sisyphus? And if so, would the Guys in White be constantly at his heel laughing at him as they watched him get so close only to fail, over and over again?

Was this a game to them? 

No, yes, oh Ancients, maybe. Maybe Operative O was so cruel, so sick in the head that he would relish the opportunity to toy with Danny’s mental sanity like this.

Danny’s hands flew up to knot his hair, yanking if only to quiet the shallow breaths and dull the spots that were beginning to dance over his eyes.

He stumbled on. He needed help. He needed Sam and Tucker. God, he couldn’t do this on his own. He’d never been without a home before—he didn’t know what to do! He couldn’t, couldn’t, couldn’t do this.

No! 

His whole body stiffened, and cold dread splashed down his spine as he realized one of his hands had unwoven itself from his hair to free his phone from his pocket.

No, no, no. He couldn’t. He had turned it off almost as soon as he’d left the border of Amity Park. Well, actually, he tried to smash it against the pavement but failed. He wasn’t strong enough to completely cut himself off from his loved ones. Not physically, but…the other thing.

Mentally.

He was weak.

Too weak. 

His hand trembled as it slid the phone back in his pocket and clutched a cold, metal bar before him. If he turned his cell on, then he could risk everything. He didn’t know if the GIW had the clearance to track his cell, but he wasn’t about to chance it.

He exhaled. He was okay. He took his fears, anxieties, and every twisted creature taunting him from the corners of his mind and shoved them back into their infinitely deep cage.

He couldn’t afford to break down. Not right now.

Unfortunately, in his distraction, he hadn’t noticed the footsteps closing the distance to him till it was too late.

“What are you doing? Get off my fucking gate,” a voice snapped.

Ice froze his sneakers to the ground, and he was slow, too slow to react.

Gate? He looked down, then up, then around. He’d somehow moved to stand in front of a different apartment, this one not abandoned. Sure, the front steps had caved on the sides, and a broken chair sat out front, but the house itself probably had a resident. And this resident, he guessed, was right behind him.

But…he was still on the sidewalk. Okay, maybe his arms were over a front entrance gate, and maybe in his panic it looked like he was trying to look into the house, but he wasn’t trespassing anywhere.

Were they even talking to him?

“Yeah, you, kid! I know you hear me!” The voice was closer now. “The fuck, are you deaf?”

Now, Danny turned as if he was fighting against a pool of syrup. Sure enough, the disembodied voice belonged to someone, though Danny wasn’t sure who because there were multiple guys in front of him. They were all at least several years his senior, and the shortest of the trio probably had at least five inches on him.

Oh. Fuck. 

Danny made eye contact with the man in the middle wearing a baggy, unzipped orange and black jacket over an equally baggy hoodie with the hood up over his buzzed hair. He stared down Danny as if he were Satan himself sent here to personally deliver his reckoning, and wouldn’t that just be the ultimate irony of the century?

“Hi,” Danny said meekly.

“What’s good?” the guy in the orange jacket said, eyeing Danny up and down. “The fuck are you doing in front of my place?”

Danny’s eyes darted between the apartment and the clearly hostile dude before him. “I—I wasn’t—” whatever modicum of confidence he’d ever possessed today was clearly so gone that Danny wasn’t sure it had ever existed.

“You casing my fucking house, bro?” the man asked, stepping forward.

Danny wasn’t typically one to feel physically threatened by a human. Hell no, not when he’d faced ghosts ten times more dangerous every week. But for some reason, as he surveyed the three guys who all very much looked a second away from swinging at him, he felt like a little kid standing before Dash and his cronies without any ghost powers to call on.

He couldn’t afford to risk using ghost powers in front of these guys, and the bigger man to the right—the one in the pale blue beanie—was looking at Danny like he was trying to figure out where he’d seen his face before. Maybe that was why he felt so spooked. Or perhaps it was the way Danny knew that these guys weren’t Dash, they were strangers to Danny, they were three guys who’d clearly grown up on the streets of Chicago. 

And as much as he understood the hierarchy of ghosts, he sure as shit didn’t understand the human social hierarchy. 

He was scared, he realized. He was fucking terrified. He’d been terrified all day and now facing his first night on the streets alone, he was scared even more.

He stepped back and raised his hands, but the trio only advanced further on him.

“Casing my motherfucking house,” the guy repeated, though not to Danny.

Danny had no idea what the guy was talking about. Casing? What?

“What block you from, kid?” the big guy on the right asked. “I swear I seen you before.”

“You haven’t,” Danny said weakly, his voice cracking. “I’ve never met you.”

The skinny guy to the left sneered. “You gonna meet us now, bro.” 

Danny’s back hit the gate, and his heart stuttered. “I wasn’t doing anything, I swear. I was just trying—trying to—”

His breath stopped. Trying to...what, exactly? Find shelter? Keep his sanity together? Not get discovered and kidnapped by the government? 

All three?

“Shut the fuck up,” the leader said. “You know how many times I’ve heard that talk? Bullshit, man. You gonna get it in. Casing my fucking house? You gonna get it in.” 

“Slap his stupidass, bro. Kid’s all doped out anyway. Look at him! Can’t do shit,” the skinny guy said. 

“Where your homies at?” the bigger guy asked.

Danny could barely understand what was happening anymore, and he couldn’t stop the anxiety from rising in his throat like bile, spitting out in a flurry of, “I don’t have any! I’m alone. I just want to leave.”

Then, time slowed desperately and painfully. Danny saw the hand coming, in theory, but denial was too powerful of a drug, and no, this wasn’t happening right now. Except it was.

The fist connected with his cheek in a sickening crack. Pain erupted in his bones, and Danny’s head jerked to the side, his body falling onto the gate. He bobbed, clutching the metal bars for stability as he blinked stars out of his vision.

Oh, Ancients, he was doomed. He was going to get jumped by these guys, and there was nothing he could do in self-defense because the only things he knew involved using his powers.

The man closed the distance, landing his next fist in Danny’s stomach. He doubled over, fighting for air that seemed to have little intention of returning to him.

“Fucking kid,” the guy towering over him taunted. “You don’t fucking go in my fucking house.”

“I wasn’t trying to,” Danny whispered.

He didn’t know if the man heard him, but Danny didn’t think it would matter. His friends were whooping behind him, and the rush exuding from his skin told a tale of how little he intended to halt his quest to ruin Danny’s body tonight.

Danny tried to dart to the side, but without his intangibility, the man’s fist caught his jaw, snapping his neck back and sending a cry of pain into the sky. Not that anyone was listening, of course. The spikes from the gate jabbed painfully into his back, and all Danny could think about was how he was cornered, alone, defenseless.

The man took a step back, but Danny knew that meant fuck all. He was just giving himself space to wind up and sock Danny again, or maybe knee him this time, all while his two friends laughed and jeered, and Danny was fucked, he was so fucked. 

Panic rushed through him, and he turned to the three men with eyes glazed in what he could be sure pure, unfiltered fear.

He wanted to turn intangible so badly and run, but he couldn’t. If anyone saw, if anyone noticed—

There was no incoming blow.

Danny ripped through the veil of dread clouding his mind, and that’s when he saw it. The big guy pointing to him, and the other two frozen beside him.

“What the fuck is wrong with his eyes, bro?” the skinny guy asked. “Ah shit, don’t tell me he’s possessed.”

“That’s the kid!” the big guy shouted, ignoring his friend. “The Phantom kid! That’s him!”

The skinnier guy rounded on his friend with a, “Who the fuck?”

“No fucking way,” the leader stepped back, falling in line with his friends.

“I ain’t playing, bro, that’s him.”

Danny blinked, and the simmering green disappeared from the edges of his vision.

Three.

Two.

One.

FUCK!

He didn’t wait for them to debate his existence in front of them. Three seconds and his decision was set. Invisibility cloaked him, then intangibility, and then he was past the men, running down the street like his fucking life depended on it, which wasn’t far from the truth.

His sneakers pounded on the pavement, his heart pumping in his ears as a slew of curses overtook his brain.

That was it. He was finished. He was done.

He turned a corner and darted down the sidewalk, not caring who heard him or whatever the fuck else people could be thinking at the sounds of someone sprinting with no body to match. Those guys had figured him out—they’d figured him out! 

He was so fucking stupid for thinking he could blend in with anyone. He was a halfa. A freak. He couldn’t do this he couldn’t be here he COULDN’T.

His cell phone rattled in his pocket, and he sidestepped down an alley, accidentally knocking a trash bin over as he made for the back. There was a dumpster there, of course, and he jammed himself into the brick wall beside it, making sure he wasn’t visible to the street before dropping his invisibility and swiping his phone from his pocket.

It was slow—too slow—to turn on. Please, turn on turn on turn on! 

He could feel the fringes of reality slipping from his mental hold like threads on a frayed blanket, and he didn’t stop them from leaving. It didn’t matter anymore. Any second, white vans would be surrounding this whole neighborhood and one sweep of an ecto-scanner later and Danny would be fucked. 

The phone finally finished loading, and Danny’s shaking fingers only failed at entering his password once before he was past the locked screen and jabbing open his messages.

He had several missed calls, but he couldn’t bother himself with those right now, swiping the notifications away. Not when there was so little time and he was breaking, quickly, so quickly.

The phone hardly rang before a worried voice crackled to life on the other line. “Danny?” Then, the voice turned into alarm. “Danny!”

“Tucker,” Danny gagged. Not on bile, but on tears.

Was he crying?

The other number picked up as well with a barely restrained, “Danny!”

“Sam,” he croaked, clutching his phone like the fucking lifeline that it was.

“Wait, Danny.” Tucker’s tone was suddenly serious. “Listen, you shouldn’t—”

 Sam’s voice overtook Tucker’s. “What happened? Are you okay? Please, where are you?”

“No!” Tucker said. “Don’t tell us. Listen, Danny—”

Danny closed his eyes, letting Tucker’s voice turn into a calming drone because so tired of fighting himself and running and it had only been a day, he couldn’t do this, guys, he couldn’t do this alone. 

“—and don’t be an asshole, Tuck,” Sam was saying when Danny had the know-how to tune back in. 

He didn’t know how long he’d been spacing out. Hopefully, only a few seconds.

“Danny, please, are you safe?” Sam pleaded.

“I—” His voice cracked. “I don’t know.”

“What happened?” Sam asked, her voice rushed. “All we know is that they ambushed you at the school, and then you escaped. We’ve both been getting nonstop questioned by investigators and the police since, but we keep telling them we don’t know where you are. Please tell us you’re somewhere safe, Danny. Please.” 

He couldn’t.

Oh, god. How do you tell someone goodbye?

The words slipped out of him. “I was seen.”

There was a pause. Then, Tucker. “By who?”

“Some guys. They jumped me. Didn’t know who I was, and then my eyes…” Danny pinched the bridge of his nose. God, he was so fucking tired. 

“You were jumped?!” Sam cried out.

“Okay, wait, listen. If they jumped you, then it might not be so bad. They probably won’t report you.”

“Yeah, violent people don’t tend to like talking to the cops,” Sam said. “You should still be okay.”

Danny’s incoming sob turned into a laugh, because of course! How could he have been so stupid? No Chicago resident trusted law enforcement.

His life wasn’t doomed. He was going to be okay, at least for today. Tomorrow was a different story, but they wouldn’t tattle, he was going to be fine. 

“You should still leave wherever you are, just in case,” Tucker said. “You can’t tell us where you’re going, though. I mean it, Danny. We’re getting questioned too much. The less we know, the better.”

“I know,” Danny muttered, wiping his cheeks.

“You need to hang up and turn off your phone. We have no idea if they’re tracking your number. We could be sending off a beacon to them right now for all we know.”

“Yeah, okay,” Danny said, though he was still reveling in his bliss to feel any urgency from Tucker’s voice. “I’ll leave here when I’m done calling you.”

“Please do,” Tucker said.

“Danny, please be safe,” Sam interjected. “You know we love you. All of us, your parents included.” 

His stomach jolted, and suddenly he felt like crying all over again. 

They said that? Really? His parents?

Was that all they said? 

He had so many questions swirling in his head, but there was no time to ask. Tucker was giving his sign-off, and despite the sudden lightness lifting his spirit from the depths of hell, he still felt the sudden urgency to say something. 

“Wait!” He cut their goodbyes off. “I—I—you guys. I need you to know…” He swallowed, his vision blurring once more. “Thanks for always being there. You know, as my friends. Seriously, I don’t think I could have survived this long without you.”

There was a second of pause. Then two.

“Jeez, Danny, you don’t have to be so morbid—”

Sam cut Tucker off. “You’ll always be my friend, Danny. Seriously, always. I’m here for you.”

“Ditto,” Tucker added quietly.

Danny pressed the end call button, not trusting himself to break down sobbing with his friends on the other line. Thankfully, his tears waited until his phone was off and back in his pocket before they began to fall. Wretched and uncontrollably, tears spilled on his cheeks, down his chin, and onto the rancid alleyway pavement below as sobs ripped his throat raw.

It wasn’t a goodbye forever, Danny tried to remind himself. They’d talk again. Soon. They’d talk again, and they’d tell him about Jazz, his parents, his parents.

Soon, this would be all over, and Danny would be back in Amity Park in his warm home playing video games and laughing with his best friends.

But if that wasn’t their final goodbye, why did it feel like one?

****

previous / next

[read more of my fics here]

#danny phantom #ectoimplosion2023 #my writing #phicc #dp fanfic #twelve hours #chapter four

[khazaddoom]

Ishmael: I woke up in the loving embrace of my new best friend and soon to be husband Queequeg 🥰 oh that reminds me, let me tell you about that time I met my sleep paralysis demon! Babe WHAT

#whale weekly #chapter four

[austajunk]

The wonderful @bardic-feline and I wrote a nice and naughty Eldritch AU Danganronpa Fic and the third chapter is up! So please take a look. <3

Smile at the Mouth of Despair

Summary: When part-time streamer Chiaki Nanami enters the Kirigiri Detective Agency one afternoon and insists that she is being lured to her death on a mysterious island, assistant investigator Makoto Naegi is determined to keep her safe from what fate awaits her. However, as they pursue this mystery together, they both find themselves seduced and entangled by a strange and eerie butler who longs to return an ancient power to its former glory…

Main Ships: Komaegi, Komanami, KamuNami, and KamuKoma <3

PLEASE NOTE: Chapter Four of this fic contains cannibalism towards the end of the chapter. It is used in a horror context, but please know your limits and turn away if it is too much for you. Thank you!

#danganronpa #danganronpa 2 goodbye despair #danganronpa au #makoto naegi #chiaki nanami #nagito komaeda #izuru kamukura #our fics #smile at the mouth of despair #chapter four #komaegi #kamunami #kamukoma #naenami #bardic_feline

[evanesdust]

you and i remain the same (WIP update - chapter four posted!)

cowritten with @sterekbros for the @sterekeverlasting's winter edition

Rating: Explicit Additional Tags: Fix-It of Sorts, Mpreg, Getting Together, Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, Idiots in Love, Past Stiles Stilinski/Malia Tate, Past Braeden/Derek Hale, Past Lydia Martin/Stiles Stilinski, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski are Eli Hale’s Parents, Top/Bottom Versatile Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Mates Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski

Summary:

Stiles rolled over onto his side and reached out to turn off the lamp on his nightstand, leaving the room in darkness as he settled back in bed. “Promise me I won’t see you in two days…” Derek didn’t answer for a while, and when he did, he spoke quietly—almost a whisper. “I can’t do that. You know I can’t do that.” Stiles took a deep breath and let it out slowly, wiping at his face and closing his eyes. “I’ll see you in two days then, Derek.” If Derek was going to get himself killed, Stiles promised himself he’d be there to try and stop it. Whatever it took. “Be ready.” “Stiles…” The way Derek said his name was almost pained. “Please be careful. I— Just be careful, okay?” “You know me,” Stiles replied, unsure what else he could say. *** aka what really happened after the raid and how they lived happily ever after.

#sterek #WIP #you and i remain the same #chapter four #sterekeverlasting #fanzine #holy shit i wrote something

[fromdusktillyu]

⩇⩇:⩇⩇ 🧷 nanno (girl from nowhere) - chapter 4 icons ★

#nanno #girl from nowhere #netflix #series #icons #aesthetic #yuyu_icons #la chica nueva #nanno icons #girl from nowhere icons #gfn #gfn nanno #chapter 4 #chapter iv #chapter four #cap 4 #capitulo 4

[sweetsungie]

the silence between two special songs | h.j | part 4

pairing: souncloud! jisung x reader (ft. dancer! hyunjin)

genre: college au, childhood friends to lovers, fluff, angst, mature content, fwb, mutual pining, unrequited love, rapper jisung, english major reader

series: the silence between two special songs

word count: 22k

warnings: cursing, fluff, total angst fest, marijuana use, smoking, a lot of making out, jealousy, mentions of sex, oral (f. receiving), teasing, dirty talk (???), slight dry humping, heartbreak, toxic situationships :(

synopsis:

falling in love with someone was one of the best and worst things a person could do. you'd remember the first time your heart skipped a beat at the sound of their voice and how perfectly their lips fit into yours. you'd remember how they encapsulated every single fiber being within you that you could no longer breathe when you were around them; likewise, you didn't want to.

you'd remember all the good things about them.

but then you'd remember the first time it ached knowing that they cared about you, but not enough. how they loved you, but not the way you wanted them to.

not the way you wanted hyunjin to.

and not the way jisung wanted you to.

•°. *࿐

a/n: this was such a hectic couple of weeks ughhh!!! i hope you guys enjoy this chapter though, a lot of heartbreak and angst and feels and ahhhhh :’( 

as always though, the series spotify playlist is linked below so listen as you read, if you can (i’ve updated with skz replay 2022 hehe)

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

comment to be a part of the taglist <3

masterlist

series playlist

You believed that loving him was like chasing after the clouds. 

“We never made it, did we?”

You knew it was impossible, but you still craved it, just for the excitement, the thrill it gave you; for the feeling of adrenaline coursing through your veins. 

But after a while, you realized it was pointless. 

Absolutely pointless going after something that was completely out of your reach.

It was scary to find someone that made you happy. 

You would start giving them all your attention because they were what made you forget everything and consume anything. And for a split second—that felt like forever—you would find yourself realizing that everything bad in your life had disappeared.

They would be the first person you would want to talk to in the morning and the last one before you slept, just so you could start and end your day with a smile. It all sounded great to have that someone, but it was scary to think about how easily they could just leave and take that happiness away with them.

But still, it was the best thing in the world and you wouldn't trade it in for anything else.

“Fuck Hanji—” You sobbed, back arched, nails digging, and fingers gripping into the sheets below you. This had to be your fourth orgasm of the night—no, maybe fifth. Who knew? You honestly weren't keeping track anymore.

All you knew was that this shouldn't be happening… again.

Jisung’s voice was muffled. “Mhm I know baby, let it out.” He peered up from in between your legs, watching you unfold before his very eyes into a blissful contracting high, over and over, all because of his mouth. “Let me know how good I’m making you feel.”

He, out of all people, knew that he really should not be doing this. 

He shouldn’t keep coming back to you—not like this. Not when he had his heart delicately worn on his sleeve and you were the one to play with it.

Words suddenly didn't seem to exist anymore as you struggled to keep your trembling legs apart. Ultimately you failed, nearly trapping the boy’s head in between your thighs as you rolled over to your side. 

And although Jisung should’ve been regretting it, scolding himself to stop after the first time he made you finish tonight, he couldn't keep a smug smirk from forming on his lips. He lifted himself up to watch you fucked out, eyes shut. 

Sure, he was used to it by now. But he could never get tired of the view. 

He rolled you so you were wholly on your back again, your body limp as you were still in the process of regaining any sense of strength you had. Lowering himself onto his forearms, he leaned himself slightly onto the top of your chest, upper bodies pressed together. Like always, he wanted to feel you closer.

Kissing you gently at first, soft skin gliding over softer skin, he pulled your lower lip between his, drawing on it slightly. “Another?” His warm breath blew across your cheek, a hungry look in his eyes. 

It should’ve felt like you've both done something terrible, like robbed a liquor store, or swallowed pills, maybe even stole some candy from a kid—but as his embrace became more heated, his hand clasping around your neck and stroking up and down until he felt you relax—it felt like complete bliss. 

You shuttered so easily against his touch. The barest tip of his tongue moved forward to tease your upper lip. You welcomed him, and he began to explore your mouth with purpose, catching you almost unaware. 

The lack of words from you was what caused his hand to wander. It trailed down the side of your waist, down your hips, and right in between your legs again before grazing a finger against your wet, throbbing bud. 

You moaned against him, your hips lifting from the contact. It was ridiculous how needy you had gotten within the past few weeks. Ever since you had gotten a taste of what a real orgasm felt like, you just couldn't stop. 

Partly because it felt so good in it by itself, and partly because, well, it felt so good that you seemingly forgot about all your worries.

Ever since break had begun, there had been a constant routine in place. 

You’d wake up, think about Hyunjin, go on your morning walk, read, take a nap with a random movie playing in the back, think about Hyunjin some more, read again, and get into bed. 

Then, you’d end up not being able to fall asleep. So, you’d spend some time on your phone—an hour, maybe even two. Just long enough until you’d run out of applications to fornicate with, ultimately leading you to think about Hyunjin again.

What was he doing? What did he wear today? Did he have a good day? A bad one?

It was embarrassing, pitiful, and pathetic and all you wanted to do was shame yourself in the mirror because of how utterly miserable you were acting over a boy.

So later you’d result in texting Jisung, and bother him until he’d understand what was going on with you. He had mastered the language of ‘girl’ after spending his whole life dealing with you.

And because of that, he’d end up calling you even though he was flooded with work right next door at his desk and was too lazy to get up and talk to you in person.

You’d always let it ring twice—sometimes two and a half just because you didn't want to seem too desperate for what you had in mind.

"I'm bored," you’d sigh dramatically.

He would simply laugh as his heart quickened, mind running back and forth between yes, no, yes, no, until he was stuck on yes as if some malware had corrupted his system. A beautiful, yet dangerous virus.

After what happened the first night, you had told Jisung multiple times that he didn't need to do this anymore. You felt bad because it seemed like he was just doing this for you. 

When you made the first move, he was hesitant and overly nervous.

"Are you sure?"

He paused for a second before nodding his head. "Yes,” and he told you honestly. He had made a contract with himself before even entering your room that he’d forget the consequences—just this once. He could have everything.

He’d insist and tell you that he didn't mind—that if you needed to release your stress, he could help you. And because of this, it didn't help that he seemed to be feeding into your addiction. You had no choice but to believe it. 

So now, if it wasn't for the sudden discomfort you felt against his fingers, you would've kept going to have your next climax—because you needed it, and because you wanted it.

But it would all happen again tomorrow, right? 

Wincing from the overstimulation, you pulled away from his swollen lips slightly. “Mm—I don’t think I can go again.” Your pelvis was growing sore and the space between your legs began to ache.

He nodded, his mouth moving against the surface of your skin for a few moments more before halting his movements. He lifted himself, falling over beside you with a sigh. 

Turning to look at him, you took in his flushed-out face. “You want next?” You asked, beginning to reach for the waistband of his sweatpants before he stopped you.

He shook his head, eyes closed with sleep. “No, that’s okay.”

“Are you sure? I feel bad.”

“Don’t feel bad.”

“Easy for you to say. You never let me go down on you,” you huffed out. “I feel like it’s not fair.”

It was true. Based on the laws of orgasms between more than one person, it wasn't fair. Everyone involved should be able to feel the sweet sensation of release. But Jisung felt like he didn't deserve that—especially not from you. 

And it wasn't as if he hadn't lost all his self-respect already, he somehow managed to save the last shred of it by not letting your lips anywhere near his dick.

Surely, you both have had sex multiple times by now, with the two of you chasing your highs. And if he was lucky, sometimes he’d even finish twice. But something about the thought of you solely out to please him, and only him—He’d lose his mind once and for all.

Jisung was nothing but a humble servant. It was better this way for him. Opening an eye to glance over at you, he plastered a ridiculous smile onto his lips. “Don’t feel bad for abusing my skills.”

Your mouth fell agape and you slapped his chest. “Bitch, I literally just offered!”

His hands came up to shield himself, now fully awake. He laughed until you huffed out in playful frustration. “I just want to sleep with you, that’s all.” 

“You can silly.” You engulf him in a kiss and he hummed, pulling away ever so slightly.

“But like in the innocent way.” He wasn't sure if you understood where he was going with this.

You groaned dramatically, a humorous smile forming on your lips. “You're so boring…”

“Oh, am I?” He raised an eyebrow, quizzically, and you nodded. “If I’m being honest, I was expecting you to get down on one knee while asking to give me head… so if anyone's boring, that’s all you.” 

You paused for a moment. "Now, you're the stupidest person I've ever met. Did you know that?"

He let out a complacent laugh. "I get that a lot. Good thing you help me with my homework! But you love it, don't you?" He teased, taking a strand of your hair and twirling it around his finger.

Whatever. You rolled your eyes, "I don't know, do I?" 

His phone sounded with his ringtone. "I sure hope so.” 

As he turned over to your nightstand to grab his phone to answer it, you sat up, cringing at the big mess you made between your legs. You needed to shower quickly before Minho came home and hogged all the hot water. 

He was finally coming back after a full week away for break. He had gone on vacation with his parents and cats and you couldn't wait to hear about it tomorrow. 

“In the morning?” Jisung groaned slightly from beside you. He sat up, leaning to grab one of your plushies that found its way onto the ground, and lazily hugged it to his chest. “That’s so early… Yeah, yeah I know… Fine… I’ll see you then.”

And with that he hung up, tossing his phone down on the space in front of him. His expression screamed with slight annoyance and despair and you couldn’t help but teasingly question him over it.

“What's with the face?” You chuckled, tossing on a shirt.

“I have to go to the studio tomorrow at like seven in the morning,” he exhaustingly hurled his head back onto a pillow.

Immediately your eyes brightened and you hopped back onto the bed beside him. “I wanna go!”

For the past couple of days since break had begun, Jisung, Chan, and Changbin had been trying to rent out a spot at a studio to record and plan for their third mini album.

This was a big deal for them because they were never able to do it in any other place besides their small studio setup at their houses. So they did a lot of research and were slowly trying to expand their resources.

Jisung looked at you with the utmost confusion ever, “Did you miss the part where I said it was at seven in the morning?”

“So what? That means we get an early start to our days!”

Now he was really fucking confused. “Let me get this straight. You—Y/N—wants to get an early start to your day? It must be opposite day.”

Your jaw dropped, “What do you take me for? I can get up early.” He gave you a look that screamed with ‘in your dreams.’ It made you scoff at his audacity. “You really underestimate me.”

He lightheartedly rolled his eyes, trying his best to fight an amused smile at your annoyance, “Hmm, I guess I do.” He could feel his face beginning to heat up and he mentally cursed himself out for it. “Either way, the answer is no.”

"Why?"

He paused for a moment, thinking. "Because you talk too much it’s distracting."

You raised your eyebrows and pointed at yourself. "Me? I’m the one who talks too much?" 

He nodded in response, just to get you worked up for his own personal enjoyment. And it worked considering you glared at him for a couple of seconds. 

“Jisung, you and I both know that you’re the one who never shuts up.”

“Woah, now I’m just offended.”

“How?”

“Because you make it seem like it's a bad thing Y/N.”

“Well, that's because you made it seem like it too—You know what? Never mind, I don't wanna go anymore.”

If anybody heard you both, they would've assumed you were an old bickering couple.

He bursted out laughing and kept trying to reach for you—trying to touch you to apologize. You had to tell him to stop many times until you relentlessly gave up. "I’m sorry," he cheekily grinned, poking the fat of your cheek, "Forgive me."

“Shut up, Han.” You swatted his hand away.

Placing a hand on his chest, he gasped. “Ouch, not the government.” After a moment, he exhaled loudly like he had been keeping in a breath for too long. "You know what?" He said to you. He slid his fingers through yours and squeezed your hand.

"What loser?" You were still kind of mad at him.

"You're my favorite person.” 

He felt you laugh a little and it made him smile.

"Oh yeah? Out of how many people?" You asked.

"All of them babe,” he winked. “So, fine, you can come.” You squinted at him for a few seconds, suspicious of his sudden switch-up. “What?” He laughed, giving your hand another squeeze. “C’mon, I’ll buy you coffee and food too.”

“I feel like this is a joke and you're just trying to get my hopes up.”

“Definitely the case.”

You pushed him away from you, jokingly. “Fuck you.”

But when he brought himself back to you, touched your bare arm, and then cupped your chin, he turned your head to face him. “Kidding.” It felt as if the stars were dancing across his skin. "You can actually come. And if it helps I’ll give you kisses all over your face,” he proudly stated, lifting a finger, “but don't even dare try to nap on Changbin’s shoulder either, even though he has more muscles than me! You can only nap on mine… or the arm of the sofa.”

You laughed, shaking your chin from out of his grip. "Are you always so greedy?"

His eyes glinted, "With you, yes.” Easily, yes.

“Gross, Sungie. You made it sound real for a second,” you faked a gag. "But okay. I’ll go if you want me to so badly.”

The two of you didn't know what to call it, what was happening between you, but you both liked it. It felt silly and fragile and good.

Usually, he would’ve argued back but he’d let you have it just this once. “As aggravating as it is, I do.”

You laughed, “See, this is why you're my favorite person, too, Ji.” You snuggled your head against him. “By a long shot.”

Silly, fragile. good, and everything else in between.

By the time you both needed to leave the next morning, it managed to take a lot of willpower in getting the both of you out of bed than expected.

It didn't help that you and Jisung were running off of only a couple of hours of sleep either, so the thought of ever getting out of the warmth of your sheets was pushed far back in both of your minds. 

But soon enough, you realized that someone had to take one for the team and get up first, or else neither of you would ever make it. Yet every time you mustered enough energy to attempt to get up, Jisung would always pull you right back in into the warmth of his embrace. 

And of course, you had no other choice but to let your body fall into his control.

This was why the both of you were an hour late. 

As expected, Chan lectured the both of you when arriving—more so Jisung, since the older boy didn't have the heart to blame you entirely for his friend’s laziness. Although, he knew in reality you were all the more reason for it.

“I told you that we should’ve said six instead of seven,” Changbin butted in from where he was seated. “If we did, he would’ve come right on time.”

Jisung flicked him off, “Shut up. This isn't even fair because you live with Chan. If you were me you would’ve overslept too.”

Changbin mocked him in a childlike manner and Jisung nearly launched himself on top of him. This was normal behavior between the both of them so you and Chan simply laughed as a result. 

Soon after the bickering ended (with Chan having to interfere of course), the boys finally began to work and you found a spot in the back where there were couches to catch up on some reading. 

Despite the fact that you had read a lot during the break already, you had only been reading the book Hyunjin had given you. And you were nearly finished with it, but for some reason, you couldn't bring yourself to actually complete it.

This was why you were stuck reading some random book that you ordered online a couple of days ago now. 

You weren't too sure as to how long they had rented out the studio for, but you had assumed it was for a good part day by the looks of it. A couple of hours had passed by now, with the three of them in and out of the recording booth. It was interesting at first watching the music process behind the scenes, but now you were starting to grow bored.

What did you expect though? They paid for this room so surely, they would be doing what they planned on doing which was working. 

You sighed to yourself, flipping to the next page. Where was your free coffee and food? Maybe you should bother Jisung about it soon because he made a bold claim about it yesterday.

You looked up to watch him from where he was at. You could hear his light mumbles as he repeated the lyrics. He was sat across, his back facing you, and tapped his pen against the table whilst he made up a random tune to go along with it. You resisted the urge to let your eyes linger on him for too long. 

Although you couldn't see it from where you were sat, his eyes traced his notebook as he lazily swayed himself in his chair. But you didn't need to see his face to know that he had a faint crease between his eyebrows as he focused. 

And suddenly you felt something pool in between your legs at the thought. You imagined your mouth moving down to his neck and breathing in the scent of his skin so he would gasp. You imagined taking in the taste of him, running your hands down his chest, kissing your way across and down the line of his torso.

You tried to not make it obvious that you were openly studying him. 

But ultimately, you failed as you suddenly felt a pair of eyes on you—and it was Chan’s. He had caught you staring and immediately after, your cheeks flushed red. Undeniably enough, he most definitely did not know the reason behind your stare, but still, you felt icky.

Why were you so aroused all the time? It was embarrassing.

You would have shaken your head if you could have found it.

"Alright, tell me what you think," Jisung said to the boys beside him, passing his notebook. It woke you up from your daze. He leaned back in his chair, spinning around in it briefly to face you and give you a quick smile. 

But, looking at your flushed-out appearance, curiosity quickly washed over him as he wondered what had been on your mind. 

The boys soon gave their input, agreeing with some of his additions. “But maybe you should ask Y/N. She has a fresh eye,” Chan suggested suddenly. 

Jisung’s eyes widened slightly, at your name. He needed to stop getting flustered so easily. He was just unsure of where his friend was taking this so abruptly. 

He took his notebook back, silently hoping that Changbin wouldn't agree with Chan. 

“That’s true. Sometimes a new person could help,” Changbin added before turning back to look at you. “Y/N, come here real quick. We need your input.”

With a sigh, you stood up from where you sat and walked over to them. Jisung hesitantly passed you his notebook and a minute passed before you finished reading what he had wrote. 

You were silent for a moment, reflecting.

"Hmm… I think," you said slowly as you leaned over to place his notebook in the space in front of him. His eyes followed your actions. "I think that you really can drive a person crazy by simply refusing to look at them. I like it.”

You were referring to a specific line you had read.

Jisung chuckled to himself softly, tracing his tongue lightly against the bottom of his lip. He turned around in his chair properly so his back was facing you again and he couldn't see you anymore. 

His elbows now rested on the table as he sucked in against his teeth. "I suppose there isn't anything quite like being ignored by someone you have feelings for, huh?"

It was nearly two in the afternoon before you decided you were pretty close to disliking books. You had spent so much time today reading and pausing and reading and pausing—you were so tired of looking at pages.

You also didn't have any room to voice your complaints. You were the one who basically begged to go last night but now you were slowly starting to regret it. And sure, it would've been easier to just leave right then, by yourself, but a part of you wanted to prove to Jisung that you wanted to be there. 

It was your stupid and really lame way of trying to show your appreciation to the boys because this was their first time in an official studio. But the clock was moving too damn slow, probably even slower than usual.

You sighed to yourself, throwing the paperback book onto the opposite side of the couch. That was enough of that. How much longer was this going to take…

“Alright, let’s take it from the top.”

It took everything in you to not groan loudly for everyone to hear you. Today wasn't about you and you had to keep reminding yourself of that. And it worked… for maybe another half an hour until you just couldn't take it anymore.

You picked up your phone and began to type away.

you: i’m bored

No response. You waited a few minutes before texting again.

you: like realllyyyyyyy fucking bored

Nothing.

you: han jisung

Okay, clearly, he was busy working right in front of you… but still. His phone at the very least should’ve lit up. Maybe he was on do not disturb. You were growing irritable.

You stood up, ever so abruptly, and walked over to him. You grabbed his phone that was facing down. He was too busy looking at whatever was on his laptop screen before shooting you a glance from the side.

“Yes?” He asked and stopped typing.

You unlocked his phone and placed it on his keyboard before walking back to the couch. Luckily the other two boys beside him were too busy on their own devices to pay attention to what happened.

It took a few seconds before your phone lit up with a text.

jisung: oh

jisung: me too

jisung: wanna cuddle?

You rolled your eyes still a bit moody but quickly typed nonetheless.

you: yes

jisung: wait

jisung: i was joking

you: oh 

You paused briefly, unsure of what to say next. Now what. 

jisung: fuck it lol

jisung: bathroom? 🫠

Your eyes glanced up from your phone, and Jisung casually stole a look at you before setting his phone back down. It was like you both knew what the answer was going to be. Almost immediately after, you stood up and told the boys that you were going to the bathroom. 

You were very, very restless. 

But the second you stepped out of the room, you realized that you didn't know where anything was. Maybe this would be the perfect time to reflect on your poor, polluted thoughts from earlier. 

“Y/N?” A familiar voice suddenly called out.

You turned to the voice at the end of the hallway behind you, and soon after, you took a stumble backward. It was Seungmin and Hyunjin. 

The same voice, which was Seungmin’s, spoke once more. “Thank God we found you! We’ve been lost for the past ten minutes walking around this building.” His hands carried two brown bags and he made his way to you. “Where are the boys?” 

You were still quite startled by the sudden sight. Then everything processed once Hyunjin took his first step towards you. You looked absolutely disgusting right now. Your hair was a mess, your body was engulfed with a hoodie that was quadruple your size, and you probably still had morning face—you just didn't feel too good about yourself.

The two of them finally met you where you stood, frozen. “Oh—um… hey guys,” you coughed out. Gosh, you were making it so awkward.

“Hi,” Hyunjin waved at you with his usual dimpled smile. His hands were full as he held a cup tray of sodas.

“So, do you know where the room is?” Seungmin prodded, impatiently. 

You swallowed, your eyes struggling to break away from admiring the long-haired boy. “Y-Yeah sorry. It’s just down there.” You pointed over at a door on the right side of the hallway. 

Seungmin thanked you shortly after and headed towards the door. It took him a couple of seconds before he realized Hyunjin wasn't by his side but rather, still in front of you. 

“You coming?”

Hyunjin looked over his shoulder, “Hm? Uh, in a sec. You can head in without me.” You could hear the ice in the sodas clink together as he turned back to face you.

The beanie Hyunjin wore prevented his hair from getting into his eyes. The color was periwinkle and it complimented his skin nicely. 

Yeah, you definitely felt and looked like shit. 

Silence followed subsequentially after Seungmin disappeared behind the studio door. You cleared your throat, “I didn't know you were back.”

His eyes brightened a bit when you spoke. Usually, he had to be the one to start the conversations when it came to you. “I came back last night.”

You nodded slowly, wanting to hear more about it. “How was home?”

“I mean, it was nice seeing my family and KKami,” he shrugged, “the weather wasn't too cold either, so that was nice.”

He paused, trying to think about what more he could say. 

“... Ah—and I worked on my art a lot! I would love for you to see it.”

“Oh…” Your eyes grew slightly bigger at the second half of his response. “Me?” You were feeling like you didn't hear him properly. 

“Yes! When you have time, of course,” he nodded giving you a warm smile. “But um… art aside, overall, I missed everyone a lot,” he proceeded to say regarding the conversation. He felt himself getting off track.

You wondered who fell under the category of everyone.

It had been so confusing these past few weeks with Hyunjin and you weren't too sure about what he was thinking. Maybe before you would have had an inkling, but now? You had no clue.

All you knew what that every time you looked at him you were sure of how you felt. You’d passed by each other and your heart raced and you were sure of how you felt. One day he was acting cute with you and the next it was awkward and you’d never speak. 

“I’m sure everyone missed you too, Jinnie.”

It just made you unsure about everything on his end. He was never yours to begin with, but you couldn't live without him. 

He laughed softly, “So does that mean you missed me then?”

You sucked in a breath, quietly, unsure of how to respond. Was he flirting? You weren't too sure if this was considered that. He was probably being nice… just like he was nice for inviting you to see his art.

Just as you were about to answer, the studio door opened, revealing Jisung.

His eyes instantly widened as he took in the view of the both of you, “Oh—um, sorry.” He suddenly felt bad for interrupting your time with Hyunjin. He quickly walked back into the room not bothering to wait for the both of you to respond.

You and Hyunjin both looked at each other for a moment before deciding to follow Jisung into the studio. Whatever was left of your slightly awkward conversation soon died out and suddenly you didn't need to go to the bathroom anymore now that Hyunjin was here.

Once entering, Seungmin was in the process of unpacking the food he had bought for everyone out of the bags. The smell alone made you want to smother him in a big hug because you were starving. You hadn't gotten a proper meal today yet because of how late you and Jisung were and there just wasn't any time for that beforehand.

By the time everyone sat and ate, the room was full of conversation. It seemed to be a mutual understanding between both you and Jisung that you both just weren't going to be needing the bathroom anymore anytime soon. 

It was pretty obvious by how you sat beside Hyunjin and nearly laughed at everything he said.

Jisung was pretty sure that whatever it was that had you laughing so loudly every other minute couldn't have been that funny. He was a much better comedian than Hyunjin. Well, that's what he liked to believe anyway.

Soon enough everyone took the lunch break a bit too much to their leisure because Changbin was currently standing at the front of the room—with Chan by his side as his special assistant—in the middle of a game of charades. 

This was obviously not the time for it, especially when the boys had paid money for this room to get work done. But a few games didn't hurt. 

Changbin grabbed spun Chan around so everyone could see his back, and smacked his butt. 

“Bin, you’re clearly mimicking Minho.” Seungmin blandly said immediately, which made everyone laugh. “Who else smacks ass?”

The boy sighed dramatically in defeat before plopping down on the couch. “You guys could’ve at least tried to act like it was good.” He took a long sip of his drink before speaking up, “Hyune, you’re next,” he called out. “Make it hard or else Seungmin’s going to win.”

Seungmin gave Changbin a quick sarcastic smile before directing his attention to his phone. 

“I’m not good at this,” Hyunjin complained, laughing. He stood near the producing tables in an effort to somehow mimic one of the members of 3Racha someway. He was honestly just going to make it up on the spot.

Which he did… sort of. It was just really, really bad.

Changbin looked at the boy confused, “You need to be a little clearer than that my guy.”

“Take it easy on him,” Chan chuckled. “Just try it again Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin grabbed a pair of headphones from the table, not realizing that the wire had tipped over Jisung’s drink. It wasn't until his eyes caught a glimpse of the white cup on its side and sheets of paper starting to darken from the liquid seeping through it that he gasped.

"Oh shit!” He set the headphones back down and quickly picked up the cup hoping to prevent any more damage. But honestly, it was already too late.

Chan immediately stood up, speeding over to the scene. It took him a moment before he slowly lifted a notebook and looked over at Jisung who was busy listening to whatever nonsense Changbin had to say. 

And as Jisung caught a glance at Chan’s expression, his lingering smile faded when he realized the notebook Chan had in his hands was his, except completely soaked with soda. 

He shot up from his seat to see what happened and his heart almost broke at the sight. He saw his notebook—the one which housed literally every song from the past few years, ruined. There was no way this actually happened. He had to be dreaming. 

“Hanji—Shit—I’m so sorry!” Hyunjin felt terrible.

Your eyes widened and you walked over to them to see what the commotion was about.

Jisung was completely silent. He honestly had no words. He was just overwhelmed with so many emotions and was afraid that if he did speak, he’d regret what would come out.

You gasped, as you watched him carefully go through the pages to see how much was destroyed. “Ji…” You knew how much this meant to him.

He sighed and closed his notebook, setting it right back down on the wet table. 

And he walked out of the room.

Hyunjin’s face was pale, all the color basically sucked out of his face. This was all his fault, he thought. Why did he always have to go and ruin everything?

Chan swallowed, not knowing how to break the silence that overtook the entire room. He honestly never saw Jisung that angry before—neither have you. He was silent, not showing an ounce of emotion, and simply just left.

The tall boy began to panic. “What do I do? I fucked up—”

"It was an accident,” Chan sucked in a breath of air, picking up the notebook from the mess again and setting it off to a drier side of the table. He also knew how important this was for Jisung but he saw no point in shaming Hyunjin for it. It was already done. "Ahh... Binnie, can you grab some napkins? Let me go and check up on him.”

And you were about to offer to take his place and talk to Jisung yourself, but Chan already walked out of the room.

There was music that sounded loudly throughout the entire apartment. 

It was nearly eleven at the night and soon enough your neighbors would start knocking at the front door because of it.

“What the fuck is he still on about?” Minho grunted as he stood up from the sofa. He was in the middle of trying to finish his show. 

Your bedroom door was open so you glanced over at Minho from where you were seated at your desk, and watched him as he went and knocked on Jisung’s door. 

Ever since the incident at the studio, Jisung had been so quiet—completely silent in fact. You felt like you were walking on eggshells around him for the first time in your life and it scared you because you never saw him like that before.

Usually, when he was upset, he’d get over it after a day or two. But now it had been almost a week since and you didn't know how to tackle it.

Sure, you’ve definitely been mad before—definitely too many times to count—but you always had him to help you out of it. He’d always suffocate you with hugs, bring you food, and refuse to leave your side until you cracked a smile. 

But now that the situation was flipped, you weren't sure if acting all bubbly and joking around would help him feel better the way it had always worked on you.

Minho knocked again much more adamantly, “Jisung.” Still nothing. “We will get a noise complaint if you don’t turn your stupid music down.”

A few moments later, the music stopped and Jisung swung his door open. He brushed past Minho, who furrowed his eyebrows at the boy's borderline rude demeanor, and then proceeded to zip up his coat and put his shoes on by the door.

Where was he going?

Once he walked out, the apartment fell silent. You felt like a bystander, especially by the way you watched this all happen from your room.

If this was what he was like when he was mad, order would never be restored on Earth. There was no way.

The remaining boy, let out a loud breath, sitting back down on the couch and pressing resume. “I’m trying my best to give him the benefit of the doubt but…”

“I know,” you sighed. You understood where both of them were coming from. Jisung had been acting out irrationally ever since and it was so irresponsible. He hadn't even been replying to Chan or Changbin—so much so, they were worried and came over to check up on him.

But still, you felt sorry for him.

That was years of his hard work down the drain. 

You grew worried about him now, wondering where he actually went. He probably shouldn't be alone out in public and you were afraid he’d get into trouble somehow. Maybe he went to the roof? You were name-dropping a few places in your mind, but the roof seemed like the most plausible option.

Standing up from your chair, you grabbed a hoodie and threw it on. Before leaving your room though, you made sure to grab the new notebook you had bought for him a couple of days ago. You weren't sure if he already had a new one by now, but you still wanted to give him it just in case.

You walked over to the front door to put on your shoes and Minho said, “Let me know when you find him.” 

Of course, Minho was still upset with Jisung’s behavior, quite frankly he wanted to explode, but he was still his best friend. He knew that this was just his own way of coping with what happened.

You nodded, giving him a light smile before heading off to the rooftop of your building. You really hoped Jisung was there, frankly, you honestly had no other locations in mind that made sense.

He rarely went out and when he did, it was to his friend's houses. But since you already knew that he wasn't actively talking to any of them, that wouldn't be the case.

Once walking out of the elevator, you heard soft faded sounds of music playing from the farthest end of the roof. You smiled to yourself softly, quickly realizing that it had to be him. 

You quietly walked over to him, sitting down beside him without a word. He was in the middle of taking a hit from his pipe, later blowing out the smoke. And now that you were there beside him, you honestly didn't know what to say. You didn't think that far ahead.

He glanced over at you, offering his pipe which you gladly accepted. You placed the colorful glass in between your lips as he lit the weed that was inside of it. 

None of you said anything yet and for the first time, you felt an awkward tension arise between the both of you. You weren't good at consoling other people. It was just something that you struggled with your whole life. 

So after taking a hit, you breathed out a simple, “I’m sorry.”

After a few more moments of silence, Jisung lightly scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“No, I’m sorry. You didn't deserve that,” you frowned. “How can I help?” He shook his head, releasing smoke into the cold air again. “Seriously, Ji I—”

His voice snapped and was much sterner this time around, “Stop it, Y/N. It doesn't matter anymore. It’s done and there's no going back now.” 

You flinched at his tone and immediately his features softened once he realized. 

“I…” He sighed. This was why he had been avoiding everybody. He didn't want to blow up or say anything that would make anyone feel bad. It would've made him feel even worse—seeing you now, made him feel worse. “I’m sorry. I really don't know why I’m like this.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not okay. I know I’ve been annoying and I feel like shit knowing I’m stressing everybody out,” he quickly refuted. “I feel terrible for feeling this way, but I’m upset. I can’t not be upset.”

Within these past few days, he had been going through trials and tribulations. He knew Hyunjin didn't do it on purpose so he couldn't be too mad at him about that. He was just upset. And it was stupid because he was upset at Hyunjin more for stealing your heart away than ruining all the work he had down for the past few years.

It annoyed him so much because of this. 

Hyunjin stole you and now the only other thing Jisung had for himself—his music. 

He took a deep breath to himself, feeling a bit lightheaded now from all the weed he had smoked. 

And he guessed that was how a person knew they loved someone: when their heart ached; when their stomach dropped; when their lungs felt like they were caving in, just because of the thought of them with someone else.

You placed something on the faux grass that suddenly captured his attention: a new notebook. “I know that it may not have everything your old one had, likewise, it never will—but I hope that you could at least make new memories with it?” You suggested.

His quiet music still played from the speakers of his phone and he could've sworn to himself that the world was moving in slow motion. Any normal best friend would've gotten their grieving friend another notebook if that was the reason for the sadness. It’s obvious. 

But, the gesture was too much for his heart to handle. Especially when he was this high. Especially when he was this upset about himself—and you—and Hyunjin—and life.

Immediately his heart rate increased. “I love you,” he blurted out. 

You laughed sweetly, not paying attention to the weight of his words. “I’m glad you like it, Sungie.”

“Too much—I love you too much,” he continued, quietly this time. 

You shoved his shoulder gently. “Quit it. You're making me blush.” You tried to make the conversation turn into something light-hearted. Something you hoped to help his mood.

But he was slightly feeling even worse. You weren't taking him seriously.

After talking with Chan that one night a few weeks back, Jisung had tried his best to get you out of his mind. But even still, he found himself thinking of you late into every night, hoping that there was a chance that you might’ve fallen asleep thinking about him, even for a second. 

He found himself making lists in his head of what new things made you laugh every day, just so he could hear it more and more. He found himself unable to look away even when you were just carelessly reading a book; sometimes, especially then. 

He could not erase your beauty from his mind, because the moment he'd look at you from that different perspective, he could not go back. After seeing you as beautiful, he could never again just look at you with indifference.

So he kissed you—without warning, without permission, without even deciding to do it but simply because he couldn't have done anything else—he kissed you. 

He was in pain, hurting, and all he wanted to do was feel you—you were the source of quite literally everything good and bad in his life. And he needed that breath you were holding because it belonged to him, and he wanted it back. So much so that he kissed you deeply enough that as he fought for what was his, you forgot whose air you were breathing.

The smell of your hair, the taste of your mouth, and the feeling of your skin seemed to have gotten inside him, moreover, into the air all around him. You had become a physical necessity.

"Ji…" You mumbled against his lips. 

You were on the roof with a beautiful boy, and he was trying to tell you that he loves you, but you didn't care to listen. He loves you, you know?

The formerly quiet music was now concealed by both of your loud breaths. Once he moved his mouth to suck onto your delicate neck, lightly biting, that's when you whimpered, unable to keep your composure. 

Seemingly so, it affected him the same because he pulled you on top of him so you straddled his waist. He didn't like the space between you and him. He moved his lips against your jaw, and your chin, and painstakingly slow down the left side of your neck until he was kissing the hollow at the base of your throat.

"Jisung." You breathed out again, your eyes beginning to feel heavy from the sensual feeling between your thighs. You weren't expecting this to happen. He tugged at your hoodie, beginning to pull it off, but you jumped at the sudden contact of coolness hitting your exposed skin. "Shit– Ji, we can’t," you whispered, pulling your hoodie back down.

"Why not?" He asked. 

“Because.”

He tilted his head up slightly to look at you, his hands continuing to explore underneath your hoodie. “Because?”

Seconds later, his lips hovered themselves against yours again, lightly brushing over them. He gave you the one thing that you wanted most. He made you feel desired. You knew it was wrong but the very thought of his hands gliding up against your bare torso and touching you made you blush in all the right places.

“Honestly I thought you’d participate more,” he hummed. You moved your hips against his very much clear hard-on and he bucked his hips. "Fuck." He caressed as much of you as he could reach and kissed you hard. Tightening every muscle in his body. He had to force himself to not go back downstairs and throw you on his bed. 

So what if Minho saw?

He wanted to go slow with you, for his sake. But it was just so hard. He wondered if there would ever be a time when he’d actually need foreplay to get hard with you.

You let out a half-chuckle, amused by how affected he was. “I'd participate.” You stopped grinding your hips and pushed away his hair from his forehead, endearingly. "But not today.”

It didn't quite hit him that he had basically confessed that he loved you until he felt you try to move from off his lap. His grip around your waist tightened. 

He wondered if it could be so hard for you to love him. 

Maybe tonight wasn't the night for you to know that. Maybe someday he’d tell you again, but instead, he’d write it and put the message in a bottle and throw it into the ocean hoping it would somehow reach you when the timing was right. 

“Can we just stay like this?” He asked, suddenly afraid to look into your eyes. “Please.”

You gave him a warm smile, nodding. 

He bit the inner corner of his cheek and squeezed his eyes shut in hopes of it maybe stopping him from saying anything he’d regret tomorrow. He leaned forward, his head fitting perfectly in the crook of your neck. 

“Could it really be so hard to love someone like me?” he repeated to himself.

Letting out a wisp of smoke into the air, he reopened his eyes. 

“Perhaps, it is.”

You checked your phone briefly to see if Minho had texted you but all your eyes captured was the time displayed. You began to get lost in the ticking of the clock you had imagined in your head.

“It’s 11:11 make a wish,” you whispered, setting your phone back down. You wrapped your arms around his neck to hug him closer and squeezed him a little tighter. 

“I’ve got mine,” Jisung replied instantly and you were too curious to keep yourself from asking what wish provoked such a quick response. “Can I tell you?” He questioned, wondering if sharing a wish truly kept it from coming true. 

“I don't know, write it down in your new notebook and tell me in a month,” you offered.

“How about in 20 years?” He asked with a contagious smile that you knew was there although you couldn’t see it.

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “Sure, that works too.”

He lifted his head from your neck and pulled away slightly. He stared at you while you were in the middle of asking him if he had felt better now, but the look in his eyes made you pause, "What?" You asked self-consciously.

He shook his head lightly. "Nothing," he said, maddeningly. You scrunched your nose in distaste. "I just," he said slowly, carefully. "I just want to hang out with you my whole life. You know?”

You made your way to the art studio with your hands both carrying a coffee each and with a pastry bag hugged against your chest. It was raining and you probably looked ridiculous without an umbrella, but you didn't mind as you were on your way to see your man that wasn't your man but was at the same time. 

It was complicated. 

Surely, the both of you hadn't been spending nearly as much time as before. But, you had hoped that now that he had invited you back to the art studio, things could go back to how they were.

Finally arriving, you used your shoulder to push open the parted door of the art studio since your hands were clearly already occupied. As you opened the door, Hyunjin turned his head to meet you, and his pink lips automatically curved into a smile. 

Then, it took him half a second before gasping at the sight of you basically drenched from the rain.

He quickly stood up from his stool to assist you, "Oh no!" He helped you by taking the coffee and pastry bag from your hands and setting them down on a nearby table. “Let me get you an extra sweater.”

“Hyunjin, it's okay,” you waved off. “I’m not cold.”

He shook his head not wanting to hear it. “No, no—you can get sick. Wait here, let me get it from my bag.”

It took him a minute before locating his extra sweater from his dance bag. He quickly draped it over your shoulders and your heart did that thing again. The thing where it sped up ever so instantly. You were entering dangerous territory by having his clothing encompass you like this. 

It smelled too much like him.

He gave you a dimpled grin, "Thank you for bringing these. You really didn't need to… especially since you got soaked in the process."

You chuckled, “Don't worry about it. I hope the pastries survived.”

He passed you one of the coffees you had brought. "They should be okay.” 

It didn't really hit you until now that you were back at the place where you kissed Hyunjin for the first time. It had been a while since it happened and you couldn't help but feel your mouth grow dry from the thought of reliving it. 

You took a sip of the lukewarm drink and looked at him.

It didn't take long for you to see the boy of your dreams staring right back at you, with his smile so wide and bright. He held a big canvas in his hands, ready to show you, and you felt content. You felt secure and safe around him. And when he looked at you, he made you feel so whole.

And it was simple, really. You wanted the feeling. 

The feeling where the world stopped and started all at the same time. You wanted to feel the rest of the world fade away when that one person was holding your hand. You wanted to know a pair of eyes in a crowd that saw only you. You wanted that warmth—the kind of love that filled every space within you and spilled out into the rest of your world. 

Coloring it with hope. And love. And that feeling that only true love can awaken in a heart. 

The feeling of being whole.

Although his look alone could make you feel an adrenaline rush like you were high off him, there was something about the way he watched you as you were busy observing his work. It was like you had years of artistic experience and it was your opinion that only mattered to him. 

It was almost six in the evening and there you were, still sitting beside him on a stool while he explained what everything meant in his piece. It was exciting and meaningful and pure—it was him. 

He stopped speaking for a second, noticing your sudden gaze on him. You were too busy in thought. You really couldn't pinpoint a single flaw on his face. 

He let out a breathy chuckle, "If you’re looking for a way out, I can stop." He didn't take much offense in it as art could sometimes be boring after a while, but you shook your head rather swiftly in response.

"No! I’m awake,” you cleared your throat. “I was just looking at you," you confessed bluntly.

He laughed loudly, his head dipping back slightly. "You're cute."

“You’re cute too.”

"I guess we make a pretty good team, then," he responded. You hadn't noticed how quiet the room had gotten afterward. 

It was funny how much tension could construct itself out of thin air. 

He stood up, grabbing a much smaller piece of work to replace the one you had just looked at. “Does this kind of remind you of anything?” He asked. You looked at the canvas, unable to understand what he meant. He saw how confusion narrowed in between your eyebrows and he giggled. “It's based on the book I gave you a while ago.”

You looked away and took a few moments to think to yourself before meeting his eyes. They were the ones that didn't seem to stray away from you during your short departure. “I haven't finished reading it yet.”

Of course, it was the truth but, you were nearly close to doing so. You could easily depict what he was trying to express in his work but you didn't want to ruin it.

You recalled how the girl in the book didn't fall in love with the boy when she first saw him. She didn't feel any change in heartbeat. Having those feelings for a random boy that she just happened to see often never crossed her mind. 

But then the girl began to notice him, in the ways he spoke, how he chose his words carefully and politely. She began to notice how he always held the door for people and how he respected them. She noticed how he smiled at others and how he got others to smile and her. 

She noticed all of those little details and moments and combined they showed her how beautiful of a person he truly was—-maybe that’s what made the girl fall in love with him completely.

He quickly removed the canvas and flipped it over, “Oh! I shouldn't spoil it then, huh?”

A small breath left your nose and you nodded. “Yeah. You can show me after I finish, okay?”

His eye contact was goosebump-inducing as his lips began curling into a smile while he muttered a sweet, "Okay."

You wished you could explain his eyes instead, and how the sound of his voice gave you butterflies. How his smile made your heart skip a beat and how every time you were literally just around him, you felt so nervous but so complete.

You just wished that you could show him how much he meant to you. Exceptionally so, that you wished you could let him take a look into your mind so that he would see for himself just how much you were in love with him. He was your world and you honestly would’ve spent every day for the rest of your life proving this to him if you could. 

That you were wholeheartedly his. You’d always be for him. 

“Let me show you this one instead!” He offered, setting another similar-sized canvas on the easel. 

As he spoke, you looked over at him, wondering how you could begin to describe your feelings. His smile was so consuming that all you could see were the tops of his cheeks, and the fact that he could literally blind you with happiness was a perfect representation of the kind of effect he had on people. 

He made you happy.

He didn't know the spell he casted over you. He didn't know how every time you were around him it felt like you were living your own self-made fairy tale. You were detached from the world, fallen completely into his—and you never wanted to leave. 

You wanted the fairytale to go on and on, never wanting the story to end. You wanted to stay in this time and place forever, because, with him, there was nowhere else you’d rather be.

You looked at him like he was art and you held onto his words like they were falling stars. 

"You give good advice," you said shortly after he finished explaining his thought process behind this piece of work.

He sheepishly smiled, "I know."

"... Maybe you should start taking it," you looked into his brown eyes in deep thought.

"Hm?"

You shrugged, tilting your head as you thought to yourself for a couple of seconds. You knew that ever since he had come back, he was having trouble readjusting to everything here. You acted like you didn't notice but he was so close to falling apart and you didn't want him to deal with it alone. 

"I mean, you always call art beautiful and courageously mean it, but how is it that the most beautiful person doesn't realize that he too is all of those things and more?"

Maybe you were digging up a hole that he wanted to keep buried and maybe you did regret those words as soon as they left your mouth—but it was said and no matter how much you tried to somehow take it back, it was done. 

He looked down at his lap, clearing his throat as he bit down on the bottom of his lip lightly.

Maybe you did cross a line this time. "You know what, forget I said any—" you started.

"Sometimes, I don't know…I just feel like," he groaned, not appreciating his inability to form his thoughts into coherent sentences. "I just feel like I don't really matter anymore—well, not Hwang Hyunjin me, but like me, me.”

He was the boy who fed into his insecurities and starved himself of potential.

“And it’s not like it's anybody’s fault! It’s really not—it’s just…” He was struggling immensely. “I want people to be happy, I always do. But now I feel like I’ve found myself trying more.”

He never usually said much, but his mind was a storm, his creativity insatiable; he was an enigma. Truly a mystery to you, but the depths of his eyes spoke volumes. His head housed the most intelligent conversations and although he never spoke them out loud all the time, you knew it. 

He never said much, but in the end, that didn't matter. You read him so clearly and he had no idea.

You sighed, “Are you still hung up on what happened with Jisung?”

After that day, Hyunjin felt the worst he’d ever felt in a while. His thoughts were brutal. They were vicious, and mean, and picked out every flaw that he had. 

His mind always won against his heart and they became too much for him. His heart became heavy and he needed to remind himself to breathe and that he was okay—that everything was okay—clearly knowing that it wasn't at all.

“Kinda,” he exhaled before he ran his hands down his face trying to sober up his dilemma. Suddenly his phone rang and it startled the both of you.

He glanced at the contact and sighed to himself again before turning to look at you with a frown. He felt guilt wash over him as he saw the contact although you couldn’t see it for yourself.

You were too busy trying to find the words to tell him that you liked that he trusted you enough that he was willing to confide in you. 

He paused for a moment, and as you were about to say something, he beat you to it.

“I’m sorry, I need to go.”

“Can you like… stop using your phone?” You snatched Jisung’s device from his hands and hid it underneath your leg. “We’re watching a movie.”

He groaned, throwing his head back against the couch. “Well, the movie you chose is lame. Right Lix?”

Felix looked up from his phone, “Huh?”

You rolled your eyes, “You guys suck.”

It was the weekend before finals began and you had sacrificed your studying time to hang out with your friends. Felix was finally free from his theatre escapades for the semester and suggested a night of baking and watching movies. 

You weren't even too sure how Jisung managed to sneak his way into these plans. He had been spending an awful amount of time locked in his room lately, granted, he was trying to catch up on everything he lost. But today he had left for a couple of hours, probably to meet up with his friends, and somehow made it just in time for the movie to begin.

Yet, of course, they took you for granted and clearly wasted your time though.

Felix set his phone down, throwing an arm over your shoulder. “Okay, I’m sorry! I’m done.”

You squinted at him, testingly. “Really?” He nodded and gave you a pinky promise.

“Okay, wait—why won't you take Felix’s phone too?” Jisung pointed out from the side. You shushed him before redirecting your attention back to the movie. 

In their defense, the movie was actually pretty bad. You didn't want to agree with them though because technically, it’d be your fault for choosing a horrible film then. 

As a matter of fact, before watching the movie, you wished Minho hadn't been busy preparing for his dance final so he could stay and spend time with you all. But now, you were thankful he had other plans. He would’ve eaten you alive for wasting his time like this.

Once the movie came to an end, Felix ran to the kitchen to check on the brownies. 

Jisung held his palm out to you, “Phone please.”

“You’re so annoying.” You chuckled, placing it into his hand nonetheless. “This is why you don't have an ‘M’ on your palm, loser.”

You were referring to the old childhood myth behind the meaning of palm lines. 

Apparently, if the lines managed to create an ‘M’ letter, then it meant that you would get married in the future. It was stupid, you both knew it. But it was a debate you two had sometimes when you were younger.

“I might not have an ‘M’ but,” Jisung opened your hands and began to trace tiny little circles on the lines of your palm, "didn't you know? I can read palms too." He concluded it with a sarcastic gasp.

Your eyebrows rose as you looked at the boy with an amused expression, "Oh really?" He nodded and you studied the boy for a few moments not believing him in the slightest, but went along with it anyway. "Fine, what's my future then?"

"Us."

You sat up, now laughing as you threw a pillow at him. "I can't believe you just said that.”

He brought a hand up in defense, "Listen, I just made that up on the spot. You should be proud of me that I am still able to do that even though my brain is fried."

Not bothering to entertain him any longer, you joined Felix in the kitchen and the both of you snacked on brownies. As much as you wanted to say you did most of the work when it came to baking it, Felix was the pro. He had many years of brownie baking on his belt.

The both of you managed to spend the rest of the evening talking about life and honestly anything else that was interesting or new. You could tell that both of you needed it. He’d been overworking himself the entire semester so to finally be done, was so rewarding. Plus, talking to Felix was always like a breath of fresh air.

By the time he left, it was nearly ten o’clock. You weren't too sure if Jisung was still home since his bedroom door was closed and he wasn't anywhere in the living room. So, you went back onto the couch and kept yourself busy with your phone.

You should've really been studying though because shortly after, Jisung peeked his head through his door. It seemed like it was all the more reason for him to bother you.

“Is he gone?” He whispered even though it was sort of loud.

You raised an eyebrow, “Who? Felix?” He nodded. “Yeah, he just left.”

Without a word, he walked over to where you were on the couch and basically snuggled up against you—more so his entire body nearly on top of you. 

"Ji, what are you doing?" You questioned him. 

He nestled himself in a little more, "Making sure you're comfortable." 

"And how will you accomplish that by lying on top of me?"

"I won't." A shadowy grin appeared on his face although you couldn't see it. "I'm just doing that because I like lying on top of you.”

"Well, I don't," you rolled your eyes. His chest brushed against yours, sending a velvet shiver through you. 

"That's a lie."

You huffed, letting his clinginess be. This was normal Jisung behavior anyway. So, you stuck to using your phone some more. 

After a few silent minutes, the faded noise of the television still present, Jisung lifted his head up to look at you. "Just so you know, if you want my lips on any piece of you, I'm more than willing to appease you,” he said suddenly.

Your mouth dropped.

"And my willingness to comply extends to my hands, my fingers, and my dic-”

"Oh, my gosh," you cut him off. “You could’ve just said you were horny instead of listing all your… services.”

"Services?" He tipped his head toward you. "That sounds so dirty."

“Jisung.”

“Yes?”

"You're so annoying." You sighed, obviously frustrated by him.

He lightly smirked, "What? How?" You gave him a look. “So annoying, that you wouldn't walk straight the next day? Or, so annoying that you want me to get off of you?”

You couldn't help but feel the familiar chills run down your back and hit you ten times harder. Suddenly you were too desperate for his touch and taste in a matter of seconds. Desperate enough that your inner thighs begged for a kiss and you wanted his lips to make it rain.

"What's with the weird eyes? Relax, I was joking," he laughed and began to lift himself from your body.

You pulled him back on you almost immediately, "I was just thinking about how big you are."

You briefly glanced down at your joined hands. He carefully stroked the length of your palm with his thumb. And when you looked at each other again, his eyes were a little darker.

"Yeah? I'll fit you just right."

Now guiding your hand to rest over his hard-on, you felt the entire length of him. He let you, of course, but still kept a distance probably in an attempt to tease you. It was bothersome.

So you took it upon yourself and kissed your way up to the corner of his lips, and he finally turned his head and swallowed your sigh in his mouth.

The kiss was wet and rough, maybe a little annoyed. Your tongue slid against his, and a flame pulsed to life in your lower belly. Goosebumps scattered your skin and you pressed your thighs together. 

You looked over your shoulder at his bedroom. It was so close it would take maybe a few big strides to be pushed back down onto his mattress. His tongue could be on your skin in under thirty seconds.

"If you're going to fit me so well, show me then.”

He nipped your bottom lip, "I will."

In a matter of seconds, the both of you stumbled into his room, making sure to close and lock the door behind you. Minho would probably be home soon so the two of you needed to be careful.

"Kiss me," he whispered and that was all it took for you to kiss him like every fiber of your being was dying, and he was your medicine. And oh did it feel like it, because suddenly, you were more alive. You felt stronger. You consumed him like a drug, inhaling and exhaling.

People made mistakes. They kissed the wrong people and pretended to be okay. They would do anything to distract their hearts, and they would do anything to deviate it from missing someone. 

Was that what you both were doing? Surely, that was the case...

There was no doubt that Jisung had this extraordinary energy about him that consumed and calmed you all at once. The way he dismantled your defenses and challenged you at every turn helped you to become a stronger and more passionate person. And despite your resistance to admitting it, you felt capable of anything around him and couldn't help but believe that he brought out your best self.

He brought out the best in you, and you didn't mean better manners, or a sense of maturity, or whatever else this tired world expected of you. You meant that he just made you want to climb roofs, run wild, and act inappropriately, take risks, and pursue your dreams with passion and integrity. 

Around him, you were living.

And to him, you were not just the two a.m. thoughts when he was alone in his bed. You were the three p.m. laughs when he was busy with his friends, the six p.m. dinner when he was in the kitchen, and the ten p.m. songs when he was writing new lyrics. You were always on his mind.

You were the most beautiful thing he’d ever felt, and he was convinced you’d remain the most beautiful thing he’d ever feel. Did you know how limiting that was? 

To think at such a ripe young age he’d experience the most exhilarating person he’d ever meet, and he’d spend the rest of his life just… settling. To think he tasted the most natural rawest form of sugar and everything else would be refined and synthetic. 

That nothing beyond this moment would add up. That all the years beyond him could not combine themselves to be sweeter than you.

He grabbed the back of your neck and then kissed you deeper and slower. He kissed you until your heartbeat continued to throb between your legs. A frenzy burned through your blood. 

You pressed your body to him, tracing your nails down his clothed stomach, and tugged at the belt loop of his pants. He made a rough sound in his throat, but his lips began to slow down against yours. 

When you realized he was pulling away, you moaned in frustration. 

His thumb brushed over your mouth. "Are you sure you're in love with Hwang Hyunjin?" His tone was ridiculing and teasing. 

"I am," you protested trying to close the distance between your lips again. 

You were surely acting like it, he wondered. He stifled a light laugh and you could feel the coolness of his breath against your face. “Then tell him.”

And it wasn't until later that night he regretted even bringing Hyunjin up. He was prepared for what was to come, but it still hurt.

The both of you lay in Jisung’s disheveled sheets, finally clothed again. 

"Jisung?" You voiced out, your fingers traced his arm lazily and you were trying to fight off the heavy slumber you felt dawn over you.

"Yeah?"

"Have you ever regretted it?" You asked.

He paused for a moment. “Regretted what?”

“You know… kissing me… sleeping with me. All of it.”

"Of course not," he stated. Even though he wasn't too sure what the truth wholly was. No matter how happy you made him, he believed that there would always be a part of him that kind of regretted everything. "Why would you even think that?" 

You shrugged and settled your head on his shoulder. "I—I’m not sure. I guess it’s just—" 

That night you let him see what made your world spin. And for you, those were your dreams. 

But not just any dreams—dreams about love and passion. You shared with him your words and your feelings. There were quotes, stories, and hopes. All the inner workings of your mind were captured in these dreams. Dreaming about the boy you loved was the only thing that kept you sane. 

You turned Hyunjin into a metaphor and thought of him as everything from a drug to a hurricane.

And there you laid, legs entangled, speaking about a boy that you loved again to another who struggled to cope with his own feelings. Your eyes glistened as you spoke of Hyunjin. You spoke about him like he would move mountains for you. 

But Jisung, he would've moved mountains for you too. You didn't know that though. You would never know that. Because as he gazed at the galaxies in your eyes like star watching was one of his favorite things to do, you were too lost in your thoughts of another to notice anything. 

You loved Hyunjin’s everything just like Jisung did—but with you. He guessed, the only difference was that he knew you wouldn't have chosen him.

So that night, you smiled and leaned on Jisung’s shoulder, half-clothed, as you told him your masterpiece. It was breathtaking. It was you—undeniably you. 

You giggled and turned to him and placed your finger against his lips—and all he could think about was what it would've felt like to have you say all these things about him. 

But then you said, "I want to tell him." Your voice was so quiet and he realized just how still the whole world felt as your breaths became the same.

His heart stopped. “Oh.” He didn't expect you to take to his advice from earlier. It happened in the heat of the moment and he wasn't thinking straight. It was a joke. And part of him began to hope that you were joking with him too, calling the whole thing off—to take it back right now. 

“Well,” he scratched the back of his head, “He better not be an idiot. I hope he knows he’s got something special.”

Jisung wouldn’t show it, and he really hoped you couldn’t tell either, but it felt like a ton of bricks were laid perfectly on top of his heart. 

You laughed weakly as you still felt tired. "It’s just—” You were stuck over how to ask him. “How do you know when it's over though? That it wouldn’t work out?"

Sleep crept up to your eyes and you closed them, letting them rest. “Just for a moment,” you told yourself. 

The boy beside you heard your breaths get heavier and gazed down to see that you had fallen asleep before he could even answer. 

A sad smile crept onto his lips and he softly pressed a kiss to your temple. 

"It's in the silence.”

The last dance practice for the semester had just come to an end and you were in between the idea of either throwing up your lunch or just running away forever. Neither seemed really plausible though considering you actually enjoyed your lunch and you had your last final tomorrow, so you needed to be present. 

Either way, you were nearly about to defy all things appropriate and dissipate with good reason, of course.

Confessing. You nearly struggled to breathe for a moment. It shouldn't be too hard. Hyunjin had to feel something for you, right? After all, you both had been through together—all the memories—he had to. 

Before, it sounded insane to even contemplate, but your mind otherwise convinced itself that something was definitely there. All the talks, laughs, glances across the rooms—something had to be there.

And as much as you wanted to call it bluff just so it wouldn't get your hopes up too much for when the truth came out, you couldn't bring yourself to do so. No matter how many times you fell into your thoughts, they all somehow reminded you about everything beautiful that came along with him—Hyunjin.

His soft skin, his scent, the crescents in his eyes that shined a bit too much it was almost blinding. He was endearing and captivating, and everything you had ever wanted. Surely, the most exquisite in human form. 

He had to feel the same.

You found yourself outside of the dance studio knowing who was waiting behind the door, and you shuttered at the thought of leaving the room either the happiest girl in the world or the saddest. 

You didn't want to sound too selfish, but you wanted him all to yourself. And it was with that desire, you felt the need to confess. 

Sure, your late-night conversation with Jisung somehow, someway, made you actually want to pursue it. A part of you was bluffing when you told him that you would do it—you were half asleep in fact. You were hoping for your friend to talk you out of it—out of the so-called crazy idea—but he didn't.

And now that you were separated from Hyunjin by only a door, you couldn't help but want to take the easy way out of it, which was simply just leaving.

But you were bound to tell him at some point, regardless of Jisung’s input—regardless of your nerves and lack of confidence.

Well, that’s what you liked to believe anyway. You just didn't expect it to be so soon.

You hesitantly opened the door, walking in to be greeted by the boy that you couldn't ever stop thinking about. Although practice had already concluded a while ago, he was still in the middle of the empty studio in the midst of practicing. You wanted to simply melt onto the ground as you locked eyes through the mirror. 

He was a symbol of your weakness.

He didn't have to do anything to make you fall for him, and you didn't fall for him because of what he could or couldn't do for you. You fell for him simply because he was unapologetically himself—you fell for him for everything he was and everything he was not. 

He was so perfectly flawed, but also perfectly himself. 

He turned around to face you, "Y/N?"

You were still by the door, scared to fully make your way into the room. "Hey..." Your eyes trailed him as he headed towards his bag.

"What are you doing here?" He grabbed a water bottle from inside. It gave you enough time to make your way to him, slowly, at your own pace. He took a long sip, parting from the bottle with a soft smile. “I thought you were studying for your exam.”

You exhaled lightly, letting out a breathy laugh. "Yeah, I was going to."

He placed the clear bottle back into his bag and peered over at you. Slightly knitting his eyebrows together, he refocused his attention back toward you. “Do you want me to help you?”

“Huh? No, no… that’s okay.”

“Are you sure? I’m just messing around in here before the studio closed for the semester but I can make some time—”

You shook your head, “Jinnie. I…” Your train of thought was faulted by the look in his eyes. He waited for you to finish but he distracted you. Was he aware of how you just couldn't speak anymore?

You just didn't understand how anybody could look the way that he did. He had the prettiest eyes and the warmest yet most killer stare. You wanted answers. You wanted him to take accountability for it—for everything. 

But quite frankly, you didn’t even think he would ever because he probably didn't know it.

"I... I just wanted to talk to you about something,” you finished quietly. 

Hyunjin grew quite curious and it was evident in the way his eyebrows softened at your tone. He nodded before sitting on the ground and patting the spot beside him for you to join him. You sat down, both of your bodies parallel to each other.

You sighed.

He wasn't sure what direction you were headed in. Something was clearly bothering you. Many thoughts flooded into his mind as he listed different possible explanations that could've left you this way. 

“Is everything okay?” 

"Do you know what you do to me?" You abruptly stated as the butterflies in your stomach began to erupt—so much that they could've lifted you up. 

He stopped his mind from wandering further and froze. This was what was happening? 

You shouldn't be doing this. 

"I get lost in your eyes, all the time actually—and whenever I hear your name I get tripped out so easily..." 

Were you making a fool out of yourself? You really didn't know. Your mouth was just moving on its own and you lacked control. 

"—And you'd always look into my eyes and show this wide grin. I always asked why you did it, but you’d shake your head and ignore the question." You tried your best to avoid his piercing eye contact. "Maybe that's why I fell for you."

You finally met his gaze but he broke it away almost immediately. That was when you felt your heart shatter into a million little pieces like a sheet of glass. 

You thought that somehow, someway, you were getting closer to the truth and knew it. You see, deep down, a part of you always knew that nothing would really happen between the both of you. You believed that maybe those types of things were only possible in a world you could only possibly dream of. 

Surely, Hyunjin seemed to just be the person of your dreams... so much so, you felt sorry that you fell. You were so sorry. Sorry that despite his refusal to look at you now, you still found his soul absolutely enchanting, fascinating, and breathtakingly beautiful.

It took him a minute before taking a deep sigh, "Y/N."

You always dreamt of all the moments you were never going to have. You guessed that this was just your way of dealing with the fact that he didn't want you—and he probably never will. And despite how badly you wanted him to reciprocate your feelings, what you both had was ruined. 

And so you came up with a separate reality in which everything was okay, where he was by your side and where he finally would fall.

Hyunjin wanted to tell you that he knew your favorite color and your favorite book and the way you’d always talk to yourself whenever you got annoyed. He wanted to tell you that he prided himself in the fact that he memorized the way your mouth would curve into a smile. 

He wanted to tell you that he would be there for you on the bad days too. He wanted to continue to hear you laugh and see your eyes glow in gold, just to know that you were happy.  

And he really wanted to tell you too that you had completely captivated him—but instead, he sympathetically looked at you, his eyes finally meeting yours once again.

He knew that you both couldn't be together because he was supposed to be in love with someone else, and well because, someone else had fallen for you too. 

Hyunjin noticed it for the first time a couple of months back that Jisung was in love with you. 

He nearly called himself stupid when he realized it. How could he have been so blind? So oblivious to everything. How could no one else realize that when you walked into the room, Jisung would suck in his breath at the very sight of you? 

There was that silence. The kind of silence Jisung spoke about. You weren’t too sure if you imagined him saying it but it didn't hurt any less.

"I-I’m sorry—I don't know why I just said that.” You were beginning to panic. 

He looked over at you, tracing every feature of your face like he had a million times before, and his heart began to beat to the rhythm of your short breaths. He turned away. “We can’t do this. I…”

This all could've been easily solved if he had brought himself to confess that he felt something for you. But he couldn't. 

It made sense to him—it all did. How you’d always admire him silently when he wasn't looking. He always saw something in your eyes when he did catch you staring though; a shine of wonder. 

If only you knew how much those little moments mattered to him too. 

But now you were left confused and heartbroken by the boy who always told you that you were amazing, but seemingly enough, wasn't good enough to commit to.

"We started this at a strange time in my life,” Hyunjin said softly. “I was broken and sad and in serious need of someone to listen. I was that guy that needed someone by his side to feel validated. And you were beautiful and charming and most importantly broken too.” 

You hated how you felt like shit and you hated how he looked at you—as if he felt bad for you. 

He sighed, “I didn't realize you were just as damaged as me when I met you. But that's why we clicked, wasn't it? I was messed up over a girl—over life—and you were the one constant that made me feel sane.”

Your breathing stilled. Messed up over a girl? Until it clicked. “Bora?”

He looked at you with concern, as if he never meant to hurt you the way that he did.

“I still love her Y/N.”

It was silent for a moment before your voice broke, "Still?”

Jisung hadn't told you? Hyunjin wondered to himself. He had expected Jisung to tell you about her the second she showed up that night at the club and also at the party.

You on the other hand wished you could rid yourself of the parts of you that beg for understanding. The parts of you that desire an answer to the question, “Why did you choose her over me?” Because there was no real answer. It was never about you. He simply chose to be with her. You were an innocent casualty. 

But still, you were always going to love him more, weren't you?

Words didn't seem easy anymore to Hyunjin. Everything he’d said and will continue to say would only worsen everything. “I—uh, I met her when I was away and I just… We just fell in love and—I’m sorry.” He felt ashamed.

“Why are you sorry?” You quickly refuted. “You can’t help how you feel.” You cleared your throat, shifting in your seated position. The boy beside you could tell how much the color drained from your cheeks. "It was my fault for getting attached to you," you said and your voice cracked, "both of us knew it wouldn't have worked out anyway.”

His heart stung. 

He wanted to tell you everything that you wanted to hear—to make you happy. To tell you that he felt the same way, unapologetically. But he couldn’t—not when he knew couldn't be the guy you needed him to be.

If he told you that, you would've told him that anything he did would've been enough and begged him to stay. To have him would make you throw away quite literally any sense of morality just because he was who he was, and you loved him because of that. 

Every day you woke up and thought about him, and you hated it. Why did you have to be the one to get so attached? It didn't seem fair.

And it wasn't right—Hyunjin knew that. So he wished that you’d become full of so much happiness that it healed every part of you. There was a whole world out there waiting for you. Great cities and art and music. Genuine beauty, and you could have it all, but without him. 

You guessed, deep down, you both were bound to end, and he would be the one to end it. You just kind of hoped that maybe he would have loved you too—enough to fight against it, you know? 

He pulled you into his chest and you didn't fight it. You were in the process of growing numb. "I care about you Y/N, I will always be here for you,” he assured you while gently running his fingers through your hair. 

Hyunjin was everything you needed, but you weren't that for him. You knew he cared about you, but you also knew that he didn't care enough to try. And yet, you didn't know which was worse.

You should have never texted him that one day that led into another and another and soon became a daily thing, morning and night, to text him and pray he would respond as fast as he did. 

You shouldn't have ever gotten your hopes up as high as you did when Jisung told you there was the slightest chance that Hyunjin was interested in you. You should have never kissed him back that night in the art room; it wouldn’t have led to even more hope. 

Then maybe it wouldn’t hurt this bad.

Hyunjin only wanted you when it was okay for him. You were the second option. You were his backup when he had nothing else to do. You were the one he’d give up for someone else. Easily replaceable. 

His second option.

But knowing this didn't change the fact that now when you pictured him and Bora together, you wondered why it was her instead of you; and when you thought of him holding her hand, you wondered why it was her instead of you; and when you imagined him kissing her lips, and touching her face, and lying in bed beside her at night, you wondered why it was her instead of you.

When you thought of the moment when he chose to share his life with her instead of you, you couldn't help but analyze your components, piece by piece, in an attempt to figure out which fault of yours led him to that choice.

You really wanted to be her. You so badly wanted to be her. 

Yet, tables tended to turn quite quickly on this Earth now that his presence was no longer on your plate, how bitter. And now you were left a mess wondering if you had ever meant anything to him at all.

Letting him hold you, you whispered something that confused him, "No, you don't care. But that's okay."

It didn't take too long for Jisung to get back home that night. 

You had locked yourself in your room for the rest of the evening, hearing Minho come and leave the apartment every so often. You were hurting so badly that you were even desperate enough to sacrifice Minho knowing everything, just so you could cry your heart out and be heard by someone. 

But that was easier said than done. If you had to tell Minho the entire story, it would have opened your wound even more. Plus, if you were being honest, he probably didn't even think that you were home to begin with. Usually, he’d call out for you or knock on your door, but he didn't.

So instead of bringing yourself to his attention, you rather continued to fester in the darkness of your room, trying your best to deal with everything alone. And you were attempting—like really, really trying to do it so you could push the thought of Hyunjin out of your mind. 

But with a knock at your bedroom door, everything was ruined.

You stayed silent for a few moments, looking at the dimly lit white-framed door. 

“Y/N.” Jisung muttered, lightly knocking once more. “What’s going on with you? I’ve been texting you all night.”

You weren't too sure of what to respond with. You hadn't been on your phone since everything happened and you were pretty sure it was still somewhere at the bottom of your school bag.

“I know you're in there, your sneakers are by the front door.”

Wiping your wet nose, you rolled your eyes. He was so stupidly annoying even at a time like this. He’d never let you rest over your damaged sneakers.

You stood from where you sat and walked over to unlock the door for him. As much as you wanted to be alone, there wasn't any reason to hide yourself from Jisung. Not like this—not anymore. He knew everything about you and he’d continue to do so, always.

When you opened the door, he immediately noticed your tear-stained cheeks and his heart dropped. Had you done it?

You tried your best to smile at him. "Hi, Sungie." 

It was so much easier to act like none of it mattered, and to pretend to wear a smile than to confess that your heart was broken from losing someone who was never even yours to begin with. 

But there didn't seem to be a reason to fake it in front of him. He deciphered everything about you within a matter of seconds. He didn't fall for your act and without a word, he engulfed you in a hug.

You didn't resist, instead, letting your body go limp as the boy hugged you. You didn't want to cry anymore, but the feeling of his arms around you made it so fucking hard. You were just so tired and drained.

The both of you stayed like that for what felt like minutes, his hands stroking up and down your back. As much as you were hurting during every moment of it, Jisung felt like his world was crashing down too. Seeing you like this, so quiet, so hidden—you didn’t deserve it.

"It's his loss," he hummed against you. 

Your heart fell for a moment. You lifted your head from against his chest and voiced your concerns quietly. “W-What?” 

He sighed, gently brushing the hair that stuck onto your forehead away. “Hyunjin. It’s his loss.” 

He wanted to tell you—to express to you that you deserved to be chosen undoubtedly over and over and over again—not merely considered. 

Seeing you like this did so much more to him than you could have ever imagined. 

But you wanted to tell Jisung that—to Hyunjin, he didn't lose anything. He just wasn't interested. It was as simple as that. He was good at making people believe that they were more important than they actually were.

Jisung was hesitant when asking, “What happened?” 

You tipped your chin back to look at him fully. “Nothing happened,” you admitted, eventually. You shoved aside your pride and felt the words scorching your tongue. “He just… didn't want me the way that I wanted him.”

You kept telling yourself that if Hyunjin wanted to talk to you—wanted to be with you, he would’ve. It’d only take a second of his time to text you, maybe even to tell you that he had made a mistake and loved you all this time. 

In all honestly, you were disappointed that he occupied your mind and that your heart still jumped whenever you thought about receiving a text or a call hoping that it was him. Simply hoping that he would tell you that he wanted you instead of her.

"And I think he knew," you continued after a while, "It just didn't matter enough for him to care."

Jisung was struggling to keep his composure against you when in reality, he really wanted to give Hyunjin the worst punch in the world for doing this to you. But what did he expect though? His friend had been seeing another girl this entire time, quite frankly, he should’ve told you about Bora to begin with. 

Was this all his own fault then?

He gently grabbed your hands, interlocking his fingers with your own. Your palms were warm—fingers so soft. It was something he always loved. 

He guided the both of you over to your bed to sit. “You know what I see?” For a few moments, he studied you, taking in your frayed tank top and bare legs.

You tilted your head, waiting for him to go on. The moonlight that peered into your room from the window dimly lit the carpet beside your bed. It gave you both just enough light to take in each other.

“I see a beautiful girl with an amazing heart and a corrupted mind,” he said.

Confusion marred your otherwise flawless features. 

He continued, “Thoughts and ideas damaged by broken promises and lies. I see a girl whose mind is constantly battling with her heart because her heart chooses to feel what her mind chooses to ignore.”

To Jisung, you deserved someone who loved you with every single beat of their heart, someone who thought about you constantly, someone who’d spend every minute of every day just wondering what you were doing, where you were, who you were with, and if you were okay. 

You needed someone who could help you reach your dreams and who could protect you from your fears. You needed someone who would treat you with respect, and love every part of you, especially your flaws. 

You should be with someone who could make you happy, really happy, dancing on air happy.

You paused for a short while, unable to figure out what to respond with. He was more than right—you weren't dumb. Your mind could tell wrong from right, but your heart struggled immensely to comprehend that. You really wished it did though. It would have made everything a hundred times easier.

Suddenly, the rain, which had been lightly falling all night, began to pick up in speed. You closed your eyes getting lost in the sound of it, the thought of the cold water against your skin spread peace throughout your body for a moment. 

One of Jisung’s hands remained interlocked with your fingers, and the other was caressed your bare thigh. He held you like you were his lifeline and he was scared to release you.

"You have to let it all go.” He traced his thumb over yours, still moving every so softly to keep your emotions at bay. “The way he kissed you, the way he smelled, the way he touched your waist and pulled you in. You have to try to let it go and you have to try to let him go."

“It’s not that easy, Jisung. I can’t just forget.”

You understood that love wasn't always flowers and chocolates. It wasn't always afternoon cuddles or laughing together at two in the morning. Sometimes it was crying and begging them to stay. 

Sometimes it was screaming at the wall because you heard something you didn't want to hear and a part of you just broke inside. Sometimes it was staying up all night, wondering why you weren't enough. Or it was sometimes self-doubting yourself because you wanted to know what she had that you didn't. 

“I know that,” he mumbled. “I know that it’s hard.”

You see as much as you thought you knew everything about the boy beside you, you didn't.

Jisung was aware that love was sometimes scrubbing your skin at four in the morning in the shower, trying to wash away their smell. Of course, it wasn't fucking easy. Love wasn't always romantic. It was painful and it would sometimes tear you apart.

To him, words were beautiful. To produce them, he allowed his fingers to move about in a rhythmic and rather therapeutic manner. Those movements then delivered his thoughts and emotions into the minds of human beings who couldn't be reached by the sound of his voice. 

He thought it was time for him to start understanding that you were now just one of those people that was out of his reach. He wanted to ask you what it felt like to be told you were perfect in every way and will always be taken care of. 

He wanted to convey the emotions that ripped through someone like himself. He wanted to express the hope and loyalty that was instilled inside him—the kind that was built up wall after wall, only to feel as though they were peacefully torn down by someone like you, who pulled him deeper into your love. 

“I know that it’s hard, Y/N,” he repeated, “and you’re right, it’s hard to forget.” 

You nodded, “If I could I woul—”

He cut you off. “But I just can't do it.” He bursted out, his eyes suddenly began to fill to the brim with tears. 

Your eyes widened at the sight, taken off guard by his abrupt tone and reaction. “What?” 

He shook his head and looked up to keep himself from looking at you. “I just can't watch you love him like that.” 

“Like what?” You asked, cupping his face so he could meet your eyes. You traced in his dark orbs, hoping to quickly find an answer to his unexpected outburst. “What are you talking about?”

Jisung knew you would never look at him the way you did Hyunjin. He felt like he was being selfish with his emotions now.

“Like he’s everything you ever wanted.”

And suddenly now, while you both stared at each other at that very second, he couldn't take it anymore. He wanted more, he wanted more than just looks and brushes of arms and legs and the stupid endless teasing and meaningless fucking on your end. 

He wanted to taste your lips and your neck and everything, again, like always. But this time, he wanted to pull you in and never let you go.

"I'm in love with you," he blurted out. "I’ve been for all my life, actually, but you've never noticed because you never paid attention."

Your heart dropped nearly twenty stories and you felt lightheaded. He could feel your body tense up as you sat still, slowly struggling to breathe properly. 

"I have never loved anyone as I love you." He continued, confessing. Was there a chance you could believe him this time? "I can't put it into words—there are none that come close to expressing how I feel."

You shook your head, loosening your grip against his palm and removing his hand from your leg. “Jisung, stop it. You don’t love me—”

This had to be a joke. Just like when he said it before on the rooftop—yeah, that's what it was. He saw you in your emotional state and thought this would be a funny prank to get you to laugh, right? You were still very upset from earlier so he should've expected you to not—hmm, maybe if he pulled this stunt again next week, you would’ve cracked a laugh from it.

Your mind was very convincing to you.

“I love you!” He shouted, the impact of his words lost on you. 

“Be fucking for real.” You still weren't taking him seriously. “This isn't funny.”

“Funny? I have loved you since the day I met you, and since then, you’ve been driving me crazy Y/N. My thoughts can't fucking move without constantly being drawn back to you.” Hand-dropping, his voice cracked as he continued. “You’re it.” 

You were his world. But he wasn't yours, and he would never be.

He proceeded to pour his heart out, unable to realize what damage he was creating while doing so. "It’s you. It’s always been you.” 

He was so vulnerable, and you tried your best to understand how suddenly, in a matter of seconds, his heart was in your hands. 

“I can’t describe it anymore, it is you. You are the only one that I will ever want. I belong with you. You are my home. I look at you, and somehow I can see us fifty years from now on the front porch of some old house in the middle of nowhere and we're together.”  

You stayed silent as everything ever good in your life came crashing down on you. This didn't sound like a joke anymore. And suddenly, just by searching his dark eyes from where you sat, the countless times he tried to express to you of his endless love began to show. Each time he poured his heart out to you, you never noticed. 

He paused to take a breath. “And as pathetic as it sounds, I need you. You are the only thing that matters to me. You are my only constant. You are my good."

“No, no, no. You must be confused.” You shook your head for what seemed like forever. “Please just talk to me tomorrow—”

You attempted to stand up in an attempt to open your door so he could leave but he grabbed your arm. “What?” His voice broke. You were starting to make him feel like a crazy person.

You sat back on your bed with broken stars in your eyes and burnt promises on your tongue, and you told him after a brief pause, “Jisung, you and I both know that your life would be so much easier without me.” 

He continued to sit by your side, taking your hand into his like before. He was close enough that your arms and hips and legs still touched and he said, “But not better.”

By now, your eyes were looking around at everything except his. In some measure, you wanted to cut open his mind and let yourself into the secret world he had created just for you, but, you were scared of what you would find. 

This wasn't what you had expected. It wasn't anything you could have ever imagined. Because he tried to be poetic in the way that he loved you, but it was so passionate he couldn't string words together in any way that made sense to you.

So there it was; the silence.

You wanted to speak—to answer—but words couldn't formulate your emotions the same way he couldn't describe the way it felt to have his heart ripped to pieces.

During the haunting stillness, Jisung finally figured out why it hurt so much. He was stuck in limbo, the liminal space between what you both were and whatever came next. It wasn't good for either of you.

Sure, he attempted to move on after listening to Chan’s advice but he couldn’t. It took him days of staring at the ceiling at four in the morning and numerous discussions with himself before he woke up one morning and decided that he wanted you still.

However, he knew, logically, that what you both had was done now; your silence is more than enough proof.

But he couldn't help but wonder if this time, the silence—your silence—fostered hope, that small "what-if" in the back of his mind. And even the smallest glimpse of hope was enough to keep him here in front of you, trapped in this uncertainty.

Despite how bewildered you still were, you gingerly pushed the fallen strands of hair from his eyes. He was still your best friend. Of course, you loved him. You’d always love him. 

And he was aware that he had always been just your boy friend you’d come to whenever you needed sympathy or company. Not your boyfriend, but your friend that was a boy.

“I just—I just don't deserve you,” you finally whispered. 

Of course, in a sense, he did deserve so, so much better, but all he wanted was you. He knew that he should have refrained from doing anything with you. He was doing just fine before… everything—before you came back into his life as the person he loved. 

Because loving you now was just so fucking destroying.

He opened his mouth to tell you what you didn't want to hear, but you shook your head, not letting him speak. 

Tears burned your eyes, “No, Jisung. I don't. You're so amazing and caring and someone like me doesn't deserve someone like you,” you assured him, his grip tightened around your hand. 

Please, don’t do this.

He was too pure and too sweet to love you.

Nevertheless, he wanted you to know everything. That he’d still love you through every emotional part of the roller coaster you had brought into his life. He loved you on the days that you were pleasant and kind and also on the days you were unrecognizable to him. 

He loved you through changing circumstances and the rapid movement of time. He was loving you now, even when you decided that you didn't love him. 

"I don't care," he said and he didn’t. He brought himself closer to your lips. "Do you even know?" He drew back for an instant, his eyebrows knit together. "Do you know what it's like around you? I can't..." He ran one hand through his hair and stared at you. "I can't breathe whenever you're around."

He was just so deeply in love with you, but you never cared to notice. You always cared about another boy, and not the one that mattered. He loved you so much and you took it for granted. You always went crying to him about your problems, and the boy beside you always lit himself on fire to keep you warm. 

And judging by the way you treated him, it was only a matter of time before his flame went out.

“Why didn't you tell me before?” You asked him, your eyes darted wildly across his although your vision was more than blurry by now. “You were my best friend.” 

His lips and hands shook at the sound of the cold rain pounding against your window, and his stomach turned because, at once, he struggled to find air to breathe. 

What was he supposed to tell you? That you weren't just a best friend to him? That his soul ached for you every time he wasn't busy talking? That he couldn't bear to hear you talk about him in a way that got his hopes up? 

Or was it that he couldn't watch you love Hyunjin the way you were supposed to love him?

“I couldn't bring myself to tell you,” he resulted in saying.

“Why? Because of who—Hyunjin?” You searched for an understanding. It took him a while before he nodded hesitantly at your question, afraid of how you’d take it. “But this goes way farther back than Hyunjin. You had so many years to tell me—to be honest with me.”

It was easier then. 

Before, Jisung hadn't touched you, he hadn't kissed you, he hadn't done nearly enough stuff with you. It was completely different now and he didn't think you understood that.

“I know but—”

 “Do you even know what Hyunjin said?” You continued to ask, cutting him off.

Suddenly it felt like a crime to look into your gaze. Jisung was avoiding it like a plague.

“This entire time, he had been in love with another girl,” you confessed, wincing as you relived yourself swallowing the biggest pill ever imaginable. It cut your throat and nearly made you bleed out. You couldn't believe what you were saying. 

“Bora?” His eyes finally snapped over to yours, widening. “H-He told you about her?”

You nodded, feeling the tears you’d been failing to desperately keep in, continue to roll down. “Yes, and I was so stupid and blind and I just wanted to cry and cry and cry—so I just need you to tell me the truth,” you sobbed. “I can’t do this anymore.”

You didn't want secrets anymore. You couldn't even begin to understand how your best friend had been in love with you for so many years. It didn't seem real. You didn't want to accept it.

But somehow, someway, you both were in love, he was so sure of it.

It hadn't been processed to you yet that Jisung had said the girl's name—Bora—ever so immediately as he did. You didn't think much about it until you could see the look of shame wash down on his face.

He had been keeping the information between Hyunjin and Bora from you for how long? It was pitiful and downright unacceptable considering you were his best friend. How could he tell you now?

But you wanted honesty, right? You wanted to know everything.

“If you want to know the truth,” he still couldn't even look at you anymore, “I’ve known about their… situation.”

He could hear the breath you sucked in quietly. You shook your head, unable to wrap your mind around his confession. “No, you didn't.”

Please, please, please. This couldn't be true. Please.

“Yes—”

“No. You didn't know Jisung. You couldn't have known.” You were still so adamant about not believing him. None of this was supposed to happen. He didn't know—there was no way he had known about Hyunjin and Bora this entire time. “You also can't love me, it’s not possible.”

He grabbed your chin, holding you firmly, and stared into your vacant eyes. “Please, why are you doing this? Why don’t you believe me?” He whispered to you like two children shading a secret.

You pushed his hand away, standing up from where you were sitting. “You didn't fucking make me look stupid for all these months—you didn't make me look stupid for all these years. Jisung, tell me that you didn't.” You began to break down.

You both were in love, he was so sure of it. 

“I couldn't help it. I couldn't help it, I'm sorry.” He couldn't even begin to express the guilt and the pain he was experiencing. He didn't even dare to value them either. You were all he could see. 

This was when he realized that this was a mistake.

He stood and attempted to hold your hand again, to which you took a step back. He wanted it to go back to how it was. “Please understand that I was in pain,” the words were now being pulled up from his throat like a clown’s handkerchief trick, but he was choking, “I never meant to ruin things. I never meant to ruin us.”

Part of you wanted to forgive him. You were so heartbroken because you not only lost the boy you loved earlier, but also your best friend tonight.

You knew that Jisung wasn't a selfish person, and he probably had his reasons. You wanted to see the brighter side of everything but you couldn't. Not now anyway. Not when he had told you his true feelings that he had kept a secret for so long. 

It felt as if your whole life with him had been a lie.

But he was your best friend and even if you tried with all your heart, you could never fully hate him. So the other part of you wanted to tell him that you loved him back so badly, even if it wasn't the truth. You wanted to tell this boy who you knew would give you the world if you asked, that his feelings were reciprocated, but they weren't. 

You believed that maybe could’ve been, though. They could’ve been if you weren't so hung up on someone that didn't love you. 

And you wanted to tell him that, but you thought it would’ve hurt even more.

You finally took the first step closer to him to hold his hand, just as he tried before. It was what he wanted right? He let you.

It was funny how something that should’ve felt so good could feel so bad when the circumstances weren't right. And your circumstances were definitely not right. But you squeezed his hand anyway, letting him know that you were feeling exactly what he was feeling, and you were just as torn as he was. 

Jisung dropped his forehead against yours, your eyes closing while you both just silently breathed through whatever this moment was. You could feel everything he was not saying. 

You could even somehow feel the kiss he wasn't giving you. But if you both slipped back into the moment you shared last night or even the night before, it would’ve ripped his wound open even wider, until that was all he was. 

And as much as he wanted to deny it, he knew just as much as you did that this wasn't a good idea.

So Jisung stood there, defeated, trying to break the silence, but secretly afraid that if he stayed he’d only break everything more.

With your features blurring past his closed eyes, just like how he had memorized you his entire life, he breathed out. “I’m sorry—I don't think I was supposed to tell you any of that.”

let me know your thoughts about this chapter! i’m interested to hear your opinions :) stay healthy <3

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@hyynee @keilykat @sikebishes @soobin-chois​ ​ @chxrry-chris @0x1lovesong1 @drhsthl @rindomo @ooshanaya

#stray kids #skz #skz han jisung #skz fanfic #skz imagines #han jisung #han jisung fanfic #han jisung smut #han jisung imagines #han jisung x reader #hyunjin fanfic #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin imagines #series #chapter four

[next-autopsy]

A/N: Well, hi there! It's me again, back with the fourth chapter. Drop me a comment or message if you feel like it, seriously it would bring me pure joy, I love hearing from y'all!

Based on the actors portrayal/hbo show and written with no disrespect to the real life veterans. Also all images found on Pinterest.

TW: 1940s sexism, Meal skipping, Sobel being mean for exactly NO reason, swearing……. Any more?

Made of Glass

Chapter four: STD’s at breakfast

Water droplets trickled down the side of her face, she watched in the clouded mirror in front of her as one slid and fell towards the floor. Bernadette let the tap run into the sink a moment longer before shutting off the flow. Giving a heavy sigh, she reached for a paper towel to dry the excess moisture off her face and hands.

Bernadette wasn't stupid, she knew how most of the men felt about her being there. She had come to terms with the fact that some of them might never truly accept her. She knew it would be more than difficult joining the military as a woman and convincing a bunch of men to respect her. She knew it would take a ton of physical effort as well as mental, she expected it to be hard and she was confident she could push through and prove every man wrong.

But she still had feelings, she was only human after all. The constant jabs and looks she got weren't that bad on occasion, she could even handle her pig-headed CO at times. It was the thought that this mistreatment was never ending that got her, she couldn't see the end of it and she began to feel as if it would last forever.

Birdie remembered how her oldest brother had written her letters detailing his training and how the COs were harshest at the beginning to weed out anyone who might not belong there.

So she understood why she was being treated this way, as a women she was deemed weak. The men would've preferred her at home, in the kitchen, hospital or working behind a desk.

She had to remind herself that the special women's program she was apart of was the beginning of change. A new era, one where men and women could be on the same level, have the same jobs, the same responsibilities, the same respect.

One last look at her own reflection and she was ready to take on the day. Ready for her company men to ignore her, ready for her CO to screech at her and push her harder than anyone else.

However, Birdie was running on fumes. She'd need at least a cup of coffee to be able to function, considering her lack of sleep, skipped dinner and her massive workout the previous day.

06:00- The mess was open.

Birdie trudged toward the hall, following the smell of warm food that usually repulsed her, she stood in line and waited to fill her belly.

But alas, the day had other plans for her.

Sobel swung the door open and his eyes locked onto the women. His heavy boots sounded rhythmically across the wooden floor and came to a stop next to her.

“Private Coldwell.” Smugness oozed off of him, Birdie kept finding herself having to resist the urge to roll her eyes in his presence.

“Yes, sir?”

“I trust you had a pleasant night?” His tone carried mischief.

“Yes, sir.” While her tone was flat.

“Not tired, are you?” He just wouldn't let that go, would he?

“No, sir.”

“Then, what are you doing?” Silence. Had she heard him right? Could he not see what she was doing or was there more to the question? Had she forgotten something? Was she breaking an unknown rule? Thoughts rushed to the forefront of her mind, but nothing stuck out.

“Sir?” Her head tilted, a quirk of hers that showed confusion.

“I asked: What. Are. You doing. Private?”

“I'm- I'm standing in the breakfast line, sir?” Her befuddlement clearly showing on her face and in her voice.

“Correct me if I'm wrong, Private, but doesn't consuming food give you energy?” It wasn't really a question but she answered anyway.

“Yes, sir.”

“And didn't you yourself just say you're 'not tired'?”

Ah, now she understood where he was going with this.

“Yes, sir.” She admitted defeat, holding in her sigh.

“Then don't you think you should leave this army issued food for the men who actually need it?” He leered, the implication was clear, he had seemingly banned her from eating breakfast.

“Yes, sir.” Her stomach panged, the smell of watery porridge and crisping toast wafted toward her nostrils giving her the urge to leave the hall to escape it. As if reading her inner thoughts, Sobel revealed a piece of white chalk from the pocket of his trousers. He made a show of stepping into the center of the room, holding the chalk above his head.

“This.” His voice raised, addressing all the occupants of the mess hall, “Is Private Coldwell's circle.” Sobel crouched down and drew a chalk circle around himself before straightening up.

“Private Coldwell will stand in this circle. She will not sit, lean or crouch while she is in her circle. No man is to approach Private Coldwell’s circle for any reason. She will not leave this circle for the entirety of the breakfast half hour.” He took dramatic steps around the room as he spoke, making eye contact with a different man at each word he spat out.

“If any of you men see Private Coldwell breaking the rules of her circle, you will report to me immediately, clear?”

“Yes, sir!” Dozens of baritone voices sounded off creating a deep melody.

Birdie willed the ground to tear open and swallow her whole when Sobel looked at her expectantly. His eyes flicked down to the white circle on the wooden floor and her body responded for her, stepping into the circle and staring blankly in front of her.

“I want all of Easy in their PT, lining up at the obstacle course at 06:45 exactly.” Sobel called as he marched to the exit.

“Yes, sir!” The room chorused.

Bernadette felt a thousand eyes on her, she really tried not to notice them but that was easier said than done. She felt a cloud of heat crawl up her neck, once again Sobel had managed to embarrass her publicly and she could do nothing about it.

A clatter broke her out of her personal pity party.

Toye sat at the end of the table she stood in front of, he’d ungracefully slapped his breakfast tray down on the table top and swung his body into the seat.

Birdie found herself watching him, amused. He seemed to be the only man who didn’t avoid her (not counting Sobel who screamed in her face whenever he pleased).

The table filled up, seat by seat and Birdie wondered where she should aim her focus. She didn’t want to outright stare at the men while they ate, but she could not tear her eyes from the meal they shovelled into their mouths.

“You’re not gonna faint, are you?” Toye’s gravely voice asked, laced with a tinge of concern yet he didn’t take his eyes off his food, feigning indifference.

“No, sir.” The women smiled, touched by his ever growing soft spot for her.

“You gonna faint on the obstacle course?” Joe raised his eyebrow to look at her, letting her know if she said 'no' he probably wouldn’t believe her.

“I sure hope not.” The grin on her face was evident in her voice. She noticed some of the surrounding men eyeing them up, gaze flickering between the two as if to try and understand what had caused the casual conversation.

“She’s hasn’t even finished the obstacle course yet.” A faceless man called out in a quiet lull, laughs ensued and Birdie clenched her jaw.

“No, technically, I have not.” She huffed, rolling her eyes, “but I will.” Her whiskey brown irises gleamed with determination.

“You jump too late.” Toye mumbled, breaking her from her thoughts of concurring the eight foot wall.

“Huh?” A slight tilt of her head.

“The wall. You should jump earlier, lead with your right foot and push up.” Joe spoke directly to her now, turned fully to face her, breakfast forgotten.

“That extra push will get you up there. Just try it.”

“Well… okay. I will.” Birdie was back in her head, plotting the logistics of jump kicking a eight foot wall and Joe was back to scraping the food off his plate.

“Ya know,” the man sat next to Toye spoke up, his thick Philly accent drawled, “Maybe you didn’t finish the course, but shit- you did good… I mean, for a broad.” The backhanded compliment was well meant, but Birdie still couldn’t help her eyes narrowing at his audacity.

Birdie heard the men speak to each other everyday, she’d heard the stupid nicknames they gave each other and she knew this man had a unluckily one. She would recognise that harsh accent anywhere, even though she’d never spoken directly to the man.

“Oh well thank you. That means so much coming from you, Chlamydia.” The southerner watched his face freeze he heard her version of his horrible tag. His brow furrowed and he halted the movement of his hands, as if the cogs in his mind were whirling double time.

Joe Toye subtly smirked, looking up at her to silently show her he understood her joke (unlike Bill who was still processing) and approved of her jab at his friend.

“You- what? Did you just- That’s not my name, sweetheart.” He stuttered a bit but finally settled on correcting her gently as if she were a five year old child.

“No, I’m like 90% sure it is.” She feigned a thoughtful look, finger posing on her chin. “Yeah, I’ve definitely heard people call you that.” She could barely hold back a smile, trying to play it off as being friendly or ditsy.

“No, no it’s Gonorrhoea!”

“Oh shit! You got Gonorrhoea too? A bad name AND an STD? Why; that’s some shit luck.” Bernadette couldn’t deliver the line with a straight face and ended up giggling her way through it. Toye was grinning down at his food and a few of the surrounding men who hear the whole thing chuckled at the Philadelphians expense. He finally caught on that she was messing with him and smiled along with his friends, rolling his eyes when he heard the men using his newest nickname; 'Bill Chlamydia.'

“That better not stick, lady!” He warned her, amused. Birdie laughed and shook her head, she kinda hoped it would.

“It’s Birdie.” She thrust her outstretched hand at him, he shook it immediately, smiling widely at the young woman. In his eyes she had earned her way into his good books with that smart mouth of hers.

“Guarnere. Bill Guarnere.” Bill enunciated the name s l o w l y for her.

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” Birdie rolled her eyes playfully at his antics.

Guarnere kept throwing one liners at her like he was testing her humour and how much she could take. Everyone was surprised when she hit him with a witty response each time and didn’t bat an eye when he flung names and cusses around. At one point Toye and Birdie teamed up to make fun of Ol’ Gonorrhoea and his supposed STD’s. A list which was growing by the second.

“Yous a southern broad, Birdie? Ya sound like a fuckin hayseed?”

“You from Philly, Syphilis? I can’t understand a thang you say!”

The men who sat with Joe and Bill had also introduced themselves to Bernadette; Frank Perconte, Floyd Talbert, Donald Hoobler and George Luz to name a few. The men had begun joking around with her once Bill paved the way. It was as if the boundary had been broken and now they were allowed to be friends with her.

06:30 rolled around and the mess hall emptied, including Birdie who could finally leave her circle of hell. Easy now had fifteen minutes to change into their PT gear and be at the obstacle course unless they wanted Sobel to tear them a new one.

Birdie pulled away from the group of men she was working on befriending and caught Bill’s eye.

“Ten minutes, little lady! Or Sobel’ll send ya up Currahee!” He bellowed at her.

“Got it! See ya in ten, Herpes!” A chorus a belly laughs filled the air. Birdie heard a few echoes of ‘Herpes!’, ‘Bill Herpes!’, ‘He’s got Herpes now too!’ Bernadette gave a quick glance over her shoulder, Bill was scowling playfully and telling everyone around him to ‘Shaddup.’ Adding, ‘I don’t got no Herpes!’ As they disappeared to their barracks.

A/N: I think I'm the funniest person in the world and nothing will change that, thank you and goodnight x

~ next-autopsy ~

Chapter five

#band of brothers #hbo war #next autopsy #easy company #ww2 #band of brothers fanfic #first fanfic #fem oc #oc #chapter four #made of glass #made of glass chapter four #not edited we die like men #joe toye #bill guarnere

[appalachianapologies]

Remittent Distress

Chapter Four

Fic Summary:

After years of being on the run and keeping his head down, Mac finally receives the opportunity to end this screwed up game of hide-and-seek for good. With the help of two unlikely friends, some unconventional skill sets, and plenty of all-nighters, Mac attempts to track down his father before James gets to him first. It's been six months since an ordinary mission turned to hell, leaving its permanent marks on Jack Dalton—both physically and emotionally. But when information about a wild kid he came across four months ago gets dropped into his lap, he has to push it all down in order to find not just the kid, but the truth behind him as well.

Chapter Summary:

Mac makes up his mind after chatting with an unlikely friend. A few dozen miles away, in the corner of a DXS hallway, Dalton makes his case to Worthy.

#in which vi actually writes #remittent distress #chapter four #macgyver #macgyver 2016 #angus macgyver #he's so blorbo shaped #VERY pleased to have finally finished this chapter after slowly whacking at it for nearly a month #a treat of 7.3k words in these trying times

[heljacomic]

First ~ Previous ~ Next

~~~

Chapter Four - BEGIN!

#helja and the lich king #heljacomic #webcomic #chapter four

[ian-lythe]

Chapter 4 Release

Hello All!

This has been the most hectic two weeks of my life, moving abroad and starting the first years of actual face to face classes than staring at a zoom screen and canvas has taken its toll on this poor soul. It’s been fun but mighty stressful so apologies again for the delay!

Without further ado I introduce you to Chapter 4 of TMD where you get to investigate more on what exactly is going on in Cascadia.

And yes I’m a horror podcast nerd so any references to TMA are intentional.

Happy Reading! 

https://ian-lythe.itch.io/the-masked-defenders EDIT : As of the 25th of August, a game breaking bug was fixed and the game is now ready to play!

#TMD #The Masked Defenders #interactive fiction #Chapter four #Update #Stress writing is fun

[yahoo201027]

Day in Fandom History: March 19…

After Gary saves Quinn from her ship that was about to crash, the Infinity Guard hijacks the power system of the Galaxy One and Gary has to harvest the energy from a nearby star ready to explode to reignite the ship and escape. “Chapter Four” premiered on this day, 6 Years Ago.

#Day in Fandom History #6 Years Ago #Final Space #Season 1 #Episode 4 #Chapter Four #Cartoon #Animation