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iuwon · 1 year

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X ▸ yang jungwon (part i)

▸ DESCRIPTION : what do you get when you have a stupid asshole of a bestfriend (who’s completely head over heels for you, should he add) and a fucked up ego that refuses to admit any form of defeat? you guessed it: the summoning of a jealous ex-boyfriend who dumped you two years ago, and is hell-bent on winning you back.

▸ PAIRING : ex!yang jungwon x female reader (feat. nishimura riki)

▸ GENRE(S) : angst, fluff, slow burn, exes au, college au

▸ WORD COUNT : 28.5k+

▸ WARNING(S) : this is very fast-paced for a slow burn, VERY cringe-y angst and writing (pls spare me it’s my first time😭), fake-dating with riki, JUNGWON REDEMPTION ARC ON PART 2, breakup scenes, indication of hang-ups and love triangles, jealousy, profanities, mentions of a car accident, blood, flashbacks from before and after the breakup, both reader and jungwon have issues :D, this has a second part because the fic is too long, not proofread, kindly let me know if there are any more ^-^

▸ SPOTIFY PLAYLIST : here

▸ UPDATED A/N : hello!! i finished this fic on the start of 2022 and then left it like that when i went on my hiatus, so rereading it nearing the end of 2022 .. i CANNOT take this seriously LMFAOO i was high and i dramatized everything im sawry. But. this is the longest fic i’ve written so far and for that i’m sort of :D i have little to almost zero experience of writing long fics AND angst, so i really hope to any who read this won’t have any high expectations T^T pls lmk your thoughts on this one!

▸ REQUESTED! for my scorpio twin anon :)

SOME PEOPLE ARE JUST LIKE KITES.

Someone had said that once, you remember. They’re the type of people that don’t have their two feet planted anywhere near the ground. They fly, and they keep flying. They have their mind fixated on solely reaching higher and higher up the sky just to blissfully enjoy the breeze.

They continue to fly up once the string is held securely in someone’s hand. The thought never crosses their mind that the person holding the string might ever grow tired, or that the person would only continue to hold on because it’s hard to release the string - because it’s hard to let go.

Sometimes, the kite flies away. Either the wind current was too strong, or maybe it slipped out of your grasp. In the end, the one holding the kite is always the one to blame for carelessly losing them - it’s the person who mourns of the lost kite and suffers the consequences.

↻ … ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ

You were the type that always focused on studies.

A homebody was what you were. To you, school was meant for school. The topic of boys never interested you, and Yang Jungwon wasn’t anywhere never of an exemption.

Yang Jungwon, the notorious musical genius – the charming boy-wonder who lived in his own 4D world. People could say countless of sweet things to describe him, but you would forever see him as a person who was incapable of holding an interest for anyone for longer than his short attention span could hold – much more a romantic one.

You hissed in frustration, “Yang Jungwon, I swear to God, if you will not leave me alone -” your tone doesn’t faze him at all, as expected. He was immune to all your threats and remarks long before. A wide cheeky grin splits open his features before his hand reaches over and snatches your chemistry textbook at the mid-sentence of your threat, peeking over at it, “Chemical bonding?” he reads aloud, titling his head.

And he irritates you further. Your mid-term finals were next week, and you were barely getting any of the subjects done at this rate. You were close to college, and you did not want to have anything, or anyone mess it up.

You glare at him, “I’ve been at the same topic for the past half hour because of you,” trying to reach over your stolen textbook from the boy who never just seemed to leave you alone, his lips tug downwards in a musing pout. He stares at you before his eyes light up in thought.

Without another word, he leaves his chair beside you, not before passing you your book. You immediately grip onto your textbook with relief, skeptical that he’d grab it back away from you again.

Moments pass and you have the time all to yourself to study, but it’s too quiet for you - despite being at a bustling café. You turn your head to both your sides, eyes subconsciously searching for him. You blink, where did he go? Did you manage to kick him out once and for all -?

A whisper from your left ear interrupts your thoughts, and you feel a warm figure lightly pressing against you from behind, “try to sing out the formulas, they’re easier to remember.”

You almost yelp in surprise, jumping away from him. Where the hell did he come from? “Yah, are you crazy -?” you began, but he starts to lightheartedly poke fun. “C’mon, do it. It’ll be easier to remember,” he encourages you, pulling out a guitar from behind. You didn’t even bother to question where he had the time to get his guitar. All you were thinking about were ways to make him leave.

You shot him a look, annoyed. “Do what?”

He was always so childish. So bothersome.

He randomly strums out his guitar strings before picking up a tune, “Sing the formulas out,” his eyes momentarily directed you to the textbook laid out on the table, “I’ll help you with the melody. Go on,” you were ready to throw a harsh retort at him, telling him off to how he was wasting your time and how his idea was stupid - but his eyes; his perfectly shaped eyes looking ever so purely earnest your way.

You hated it.

You weren’t a musical genius or any of that sort, that was all Jungwon. You couldn’t just whip out the best melodic high note nor could you memorize a thousand slide powerpoint discussion even with the help of music. He didn’t have to worry about his grades - hence, his carefree attitude - and he didn’t have to stress over finals week when his career in music was already made out for him. All he ever did around school was tag along and annoy you, try the most obnoxious attempts to ask you out, play his guitar, and listen to music in the earphones he never took off.

You hesitantly look away, if you went along with him - maybe he’d go away once he got what he wanted to do. Little did you know how helpful the technique Jungwon suggested came out - or how fun it actually tuned out to be despite how awful your voice was, he was still looking at you like you were the singing like the angels.

Barely another hour later, you remarkably managed to get it all by heart and cover the topics that couldn’t have been covered in at least three days - with the help of the one person who has been disturbing you from studying in the first place. You could only gawk dumbly at his guitar.

Jungwon could sense your astonishment from miles away, and that made him all the more complacent with the huge beam he was wearing on his face. He wasn’t going to merely let this go. That trademark boyish look of his is back. “For my payment of very helpful service,” he starts as if you had ever asked him in the first place as he pretends to think, humming, “I’ll accept it in forms of you allowing me to take you out,” he suggests gleefully, his eyes sparkling in mischief.

You would normally scoff at his attempt yet again, telling him off - but this time. You couldn’t keep count of the endless tries he’s pulled this trick. This time you helplessly shake your head with a roll of your eyes. You couldn’t keep count of anything anymore, nor were you going to start now.

Yang Jungwon wasn’t going to give up on you.

… ᵉⁿᵈ ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ ↺

TWO YEARS LATER [ JUNGWON’S POV ]

Through the extent of his memory, you never failed to take care of Yang Jungwon.

Not once. No matter how hard you would push him aside and passively act like you didn’t care much about him, you would be there for him; you would always be there. By his side.

And then you were gone.

Jungwon was two years older now.

Checking the items in his shopping bag to see if everything was complete, he leaves the grocery store, rummaging through his purchased items when his body swiftly crashes onto something. He takes a few steps to regain his stance as he stumbles backward.

“Oh, sorry,” someone says, and it takes a moment or two before he snapped out of his daze. He turns instinctively to the direction of the voice as he tries to readjust his grip on his pile of bags.

That voice. He knows that voice.

But for a moment, his breathing halts, body stiffening instantly at the sight of someone he’d never expected to see. Never. Never again. Because this time, it’s you.

You.

You blink, showing mild surprise. And indifference. As if you were looking straight at a stranger. Your eyes pointedly averts itself away from him while you keep the proper formalities and try to start a conversation with your composure, “Uh, hello. How are you?”

To say that he’s caught off guard is too much of an understatement.

You looked different.

You looked good.

No.

You looked beautiful.

Is he dead? No, wait. What? Air gets knocked out of his lungs and he feels like he’s been punched in the gut at the same time.

You looked more beautiful than the image that he had of you for the past years, and it breaks him.

Like nothing has ever pulled you down – as if leaving you only did you good – as if it never happened or affected you by the least.

How could you look so well?

To say that Jungwon looked like a mess was an understatement.

He bit his tongue, cursing for choosing the greatest timing. He tugged at the hem of his shirt, subtly trying to adjust it. What should he do . . . now? How should he start?

How were you? Why didn’t you look for him? Were you doing fine? Did you find someone else? Have you moved on? Should he move on? Did you -

In the short silence, you seemed to be relieved to receive a text message, the ding that gives you an excuse to look away and check your phone. You make a face, feeling suddenly alarmed. Expression rushed, you formally bid him goodbye, and it fucking hurts him even more. “Nice seeing you. I should be on my way now. Have a nice day.”

A strangers’ nice pleasantry. With no sincerity.

But you walk away, leaving him – not bothering to ask him for another meet-up. Jungwon is left standing in the middle of the street, dumbfounded.

Like it ended here.

Is this it?

He wasn’t even able to get to say anything.

This was worse than being nothing to each other.

It was worse than being treated like someone you hated.

He tries to inhale.

Jungwon has no idea, honestly. Not anymore.

One day, he had told himself for years.

One day, he would broadly smile at you. He’d stand proudly confident, and you’d know that he’s gotten over you for good. He’d win and see that he’s no longer suffering. You would see. You would. He’d get over you.

But bumping into you for the first time in years had Jungwon rethinking if he’s ever gotten over your eyes in the first place.

PRESENT

You can sulk for a little, throw a tantrum - but a kite is a kite. There’s no chance of it coming back; once you let go, it doesn’t look back at you to pause and run back to your hold. There was only one thing you could do from thereon: you could always forget about it, toss it aside like a child does, and replace it with a new one; making sure it’s a much better kind.

That. That was something you reminded yourself time and time again for the past two years. Though the line was taken from a measly television show that you’ve watched long ago, it’s been the only line of string that kept you from looking back - like a mother telling her child to stop crying over a lost kite.

But, right then and there, it was like time itself pauses for you when you stand in the same café four years ago, hearing the all-familiar voice that you could never forget. There, when you feel your heart beating out of your control and dropping dead. There, where you’re not sure of the extent of what you could restrain yourself from doing.

You don’t know how you’re suddenly transported to the direction of the soft voice - it’s familiarity greeting you, and for a brief second, the memories you’ve burned long ago painfully flash back to mind - you almost flinch.

[ now playing ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ train wreck by james arthur ]

“I don’t wanna lose this, but I’m not getting through this. Hey, should I pray? Should I pray? Yeah,” Yang Jungwon.

It’s him.

Him, with his stupidly beautiful voice and his damn entrancing presence dragging you back harder than you remembered, and the pain he’s trying to immerse himself in as he ignores his physical surroundings.

And you.

You, as you’re trying to fight away the haunting flash of memories that are slowly starting to accompany you, and you, as you could do nothing but fleetingly watch him.

This was the second time you’ve bumped into him. You snorted, why was he always everywhere you went?

And it was like after the years of methodically stitching yourself back together, you’re transported back to the same person you were two years ago.

A fool.

“To myself? To a God? To a savior who can …”

You admit, there were days where you forgot his face - or in other words, days where you refused to acknowledge how he used to look at you. Days where it was too painful to even think about.

You swear to yourself that those days are long over.

Standing across the end of the room after three years of absolutely nothing from him felt suffocating, as if there was no air to breathe. You didn’t realize you were holding in a short breath, and when you exhaled - you felt pinning, and needles, and knives stabbed deep into your lungs.

“Unbreak the broken, unsay these spoken words. Find hope in the hopeless - pull me out of the train wreck,”

When Jungwon’s eyes slowly open, the first thing he sees is you.

Both your eyes meet, and he freezes. All too slowly. Everything in motion. You notice how his eyes widen, and how the old memories flash in his eyes all the same.

PainMiseryHurtDisbeliefHope-

The regret.

All this happens in front of you. A dream. A nightmare. All at once. Your face remains passive and unaffected, hard - nonchalant with ease, refusing to feel bothered. Time seems slow, but you don’t hesitate to casually walk away, being the first to break eye-contact. You didn’t want to spend another second in that room.

Your grip on the drink in hand tightens in its own accord.

You’ve moved on.

But what was this sort of feeling enveloping you in?

A teasing wolf-whistle startles you on your way out of the café, ripping you out of the lethargic trance you were warped into. “Was that an ex I saw over there?” You find Nishimura Riki with his shit-eating face and his waggling of eyebrows up beside you. Grimacing at his face, you harshly nudge your elbow to his sides in annoyance.

Breathing is a little bit easier with him around.

But you still feel like vomiting. “Is shutting up not part of how your brain is wired?” you roll your eyes, showing no effort at all to hide your agitation. He lets out an amused laugh, his playful gaze only duplicating itself as he proceeds to brutally tease you.

Riki isn’t an asshole. Not really. He’s what you’d call your best friend … without much other choice. Though he can perfectly embody one, he knows his limits (though you may sometimes find yourself doubting it) and the extents to where he can joke around. He can be all sorts annoying and a douche whenever food is on the line, but he’s the only one who’s stuck with you since day one of what happened two years ago - and never bothered to pressure you into questions that tormented you even further.

You lost contact with the friends you had once shared along with Jungwon. It felt embarrassing and uncomfortable to hang around them with everyone aware of what happened, until it was long months later that it just didn’t seem right to suddenly start hanging around them again after your efforts vigorously avoiding them.

You’ve lost a lot.

And you just met the man behind it all.

Nishimura Riki was sort of all you had, and he knew that too. He figured everything that happened eventually through time, by himself. Picking up the little things wasn’t too difficult to do, neither was piecing everything together with a little help and slow nudge from you over the years.

“He’s moving in this building, you know,” he looks over to your side.

Your stomach lurches, freezing in place. Your jaw nearly drops to the floor, gaping at him like your eyes would bulge out any second.

Over your fucking dead body.

That building was precisely the building you lived in. “What?” you nearly yell, causing passersby walking along the sidewalks to throw the both of you looks.

He rolls his eyes, “Geez, princess, clam down. I was kidding,” he bumps his shoulder next to yours, as if he was trying to shake you up. He starts going over about how you were showing ‘hang-ups’ symptoms before you start barking a mouthful of threatening-nothings to have him shut his mouth, running after him.

Something rings different, however.

Yang Jungwon.

The name lingers in the back of your head, no matter how hard you try to push it away. It’s been three years, but when the kite you’ve lost years ago - the kite you swore you’ve already forgotten about - comes back, what then?

↻ … ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ

You weren’t necessarily the warmest type of person.

Blank faces, blunt responses, and sharp glares were all people received from you. You got others avoiding you in return, it was a give and take situation that benefited perfectly on both sides – perhaps more on your side. It worked as a repellent to kept everyone off your radar. And you liked that. You enjoyed being left alone. You found peace in your own solitude, away from other people. You were never exactly fond of people, either way.

Yang Jungwon was certainly a different breed.

Maybe it was the challenge that he liked, at first. You; the unwavering and ‘unbeatable’ challenge that provoked him – enticed him. That kept him coming. You were a brick wall, and he was someone who had the world at the palm of his hand.

But you don’t know how his intentions changed along the way.

You don’t know what made him change his mind – or what part of you that he saw that made him choose to do so, but it wasn’t of any use to figure out how.

Because he wanted you, now.

And he would ever-so-bluntly admit that.

All your efforts of shrugging him off made him fight harder for you. It was useless. The more you would curse at him with the harshest words just made him want to tag along by your side even more with that boyish grin never leaving his face.

He was a weird one.

“You know, you’re not as mean as how the people label you as.”

“And you’re more annoying than they claim you to be,” you don’t crack an amused smile. Jungwon wonders if he’s ever seen you smile – or even wear anything else of an expression that didn’t look bored, annoyed, angry, or enraged. He takes a moment to visualize how beautiful you would look when you smile and decides that he’ll do anything to see that happen. Just like that.

“You keep tossing me away,” he defended himself, the corner of his lips tugging downwards in the smallest pout.

“You keep coming back,” you retorted back, eyes shooting daggers.

By the look of his face, you realize your response wasn’t the best. “I’ll keep coming back to you,” he finishes. A lopsided grin. His brain was wired differently.

You didn’t hold back your prolonged suffering exhale.

It was a careless remark.

Such a recklessly made promise.

… ᵉⁿᵈ ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ ↺

↻ … ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ

[ JUNGWON’S POV ]

No one loves you like Yang Jungwon.

Whenever you’re blabbering about something with the biggest smile on your face, every time at that exact moment Jungwon knows that no one can ever be as fucking in love you like a dumb plain sheet of white paper like he can. Nor can they get to know you - or the 2 am you. They wouldn’t get to know how beautiful you look with the one side-lamp illuminating a side of your face - and the little things that come along with it, it’s only him.

It’s only him.

But when he stares into your eyes, he knows it all too. No one is as bad for you as Jungwon is either, he believes, and it fucking destroys him as he holds onto you tighter, his hands slightly trembling. He can’t lose you, he doesn’t want to, and he doesn’t know the person he’ll become if he ever does. He doesn’t know if he’ll even make a day after it.

Why didn’t he think that there would ever be an end to a sweet dream?

Yang Jungwon is your first, but someone else is going to be your last.

Someone else that wasn’t him.

He muffles the sound of the soft cries that escape him as you peacefully sleep next to him in his tight hold, unaware of what’s to come.

He’s everything that he promised you he would never be.

… ᵉⁿᵈ ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ ↺

THE NEXT WEEK

Riki must’ve placed some sort of curse on you for this to happen.

You could vividly imagine his shit-eating face with his loud laughter already.

Whatever witchcraft or shitty attempt of ‘fate’ this was, Nishimura Riki was going to be the cause of your death. Though this has barely anything to do with him, you can’t think of anyone else that brings that much bad luck to you. You’re seriously starting to think the world is unreservedly just fucking with you for entertainment.

Just when you thought you were never going to see him again.

Yang Jungwon stands at the front of the classroom, leaning on one foot with a backpack slung over his one shoulder. You almost facepalm, this was some Egyptian curse that was going to follow and haunt you, wasn’t it? Perhaps the ghost haunting you was in the form of your ex-boyfriend.

Of course, the new student had to just be him.

You never thought you would ever see him again. Thankfully, he doesn’t notice you and sits the farthest from your area. You keep your head focused on the individual work assigned to the class. If this whole thing could keep up, you could probably spend the next semester without him knowing you’re in the same class, then, you could hopefully change classes by the next - it wouldn’t be so bad. You didn’t have to acknowledge him.

That is, until the Professor starts assigning him roles and tasks. “There are the modules for you to read, and then around four individual minor projects to keep up with. The fifth individual project, however, majorly affects your grade,” he pauses, lightly smacking his lips as he scans his student list.

He flips through papers as he continues, “since you’ve missed most of the term, I’ll be pairing you up with Lim Seoyeon,” he drags the last word, scurrying through his papers to find another name, “and Y/L/N Y/N. Both are only lacking their thesis papers, while the others are still lacking to submit three projects, so it would be most convenient for her compared to the rest.”

Your stomach churns, feeling sick. Physically cringing, you felt like creating an uproar. Wherever Yang Jungwon goes, trouble always follows; this simply could not be happening to you. Lord, it was the least convenient to you.

This world couldn’t hate you this much.

You wanted to curse any of the gods above you placed you in this shithole, being beyond frustrated and unwilling. Anyone but him. You could only mournfully regret passing all your projects in advance, it was ironic. You get yourself into fucked up situations for being a good student? What is this university?

The Professor doesn’t clarify anything with you - nor does he justify the situation and the injustice, but only throws a nod in acknowledgement in your direction before he waves at Jungwon in dismissal - excusing himself from the classroom.

Your eyes could almost bulge out.

What was happening . . . ?

Jungwon’s eyes sweep over the room before he finds you, but you note how he doesn’t look the least surprised to see you. He stares, trying to discern your expression, but you once again break eye contact within a second.

You were in hell.

You had no option to stalk up to the teacher’s desk to bargain when the professor wasn’t there in the first place. You were fucking stuck with him. You felt the burning flames when he got up to make his way to you, and as he stood right in front of you. Choking to death because of a meatball in live television seemed like a much peaceful idea that kept most of your remaining dignity.

Maybe if you kept your head buried with studies, he would go away.

“Y/N,” a voice acknowledges you.

Fuck, you could remember that voice anywhere.

“It’s nice to see you.” Yang Jungwon.

You made a noise in response.

The feeling was not reciprocated.

You hate the way he sounds.

Like he wasn’t the same person three years ago.

You forcefully nod curtly at him, and you’re drowning.

Suddenly, we are strangers again. An unwanted stranger. There was no other option rather than tolerating him until it was all fine. You could do this. You didn’t want to, but you had to, otherwise you’d be at the polar end of the classroom by now if you had the choice.

But you chose to ignore him: Ignore the fact that he sat right next to you in close proximity, ignore the fact that you could smell his cologne - the familiarity of it and how it smelled like home, and ignored him like he never existed when he tried asking questions. In your defense, either they were a waste of time to answer, or they could easily be found in the textbook.

“Hi, I was wondering if –” Ignore it.

“Do you know where the questions for –?” Ignore it.

“Don’t you think this project is pretty difficult –?” Ignore it.

And you turned a blind eye to the fact that you disregarded him because you didn’t know if you could control yourself.

Seoyeon was a lifesaver, managing to keep you sane as she voluntarily chose to step in to help Jungwon out after hearing all his questions directed to you left unanswered. You wouldn’t know what you would do if you were forced alone with him. She reads the room but doesn’t question anything.

You tell yourself it was anger that made yourself this way.

Blind consuming anger.

You hate how Jungwon could still manage read you after all this time.

A quiet and gentle question, “Y/N, are you mad at me?”

You barely react, but your eyes squint on their own. You weren’t going to lie nor deny it, you do really wish he hadn’t chosen to interact with you. Staring blankly at your laptop screen, you don’t move. A hushed voice - a subconscious that you swore you lost long ago - in the back of your head whispers an answer before you force yourself to shove it down. You almost scoffed; are you mad at him? What kind of a dumb question is that?

He was nothing but an ass, he hadn’t changed.

“No, why would I be?” You answer brusquely, your tone signifying that you were keeping a distance from him without having to say it.

You hope the cue was taken.

There was no need to keep the friendliness with him – you weren’t obligated to. Formalities were all there was left. At least you would treat him with the respect that you were scraping your skin out for, right? Whatever you had with him - it was over. It was long gone.

You refused to be controlled under the palm of his hand ever again.

You swiftly pack your belongings and left him without a work or glance to spare his way the second you hear the bell signal the end of the period right on time. You don’t even bid your classmate, Seoyeon, goodbye. You’d apologize to her later and explain things to her, hoping she’d understand and lend a helping hand.

It’s been two years and the minute he shows up, you find yourself crumbling and unable to control yourself, and that frustrates you. You’re slipping.

Being around him was a waste of energy.

You remind yourself that you feel nothing.

He was a stranger to you now.

Once again, you walked away from him, gripping the strap of your backpack tightly in sheer annoyance and vexation. Mind racing, you try to find a reason; why was Yang Jungwon in your major and university and what in the heavens above does he want from you?

LATER

Riki roars in laughter, his hand slapping his knee as he nearly falls off the chair. You were almost tempted to push him off.

“You think it can’t get any funnier than that, but it does!” he pretends to wipe away a fake tear, “you ignored him all the way through!” he bursts into fits laughter once again.

“Poor guy, getting the silent treatment from someone like Y/N on your first day at college is depressing,” he empathizes, though it doesn’t sound by any means sincere. Nothing about Nishimura Riki is sincere. “At least I’m not the only one Y/N treats like shit!” he notes positively with a beam on his face, but you’re not sure if that’s anything that’s supposed to be of positive news.

You whack the back of his head, and he whines. “When have I ever treated you like shit, you dumbass?”

“I’m taking this as a form of harassment,” he grumbles.

You stick your tongue out at him mischievously, “Oh, boo-hoo, you big baby, ‘s not like you don’t bully the hell out of me,” you roll your eyes, “and help out and do something about Jungwon, will you?” you ask him for a favor, your tone indicating exhaustion.

He furrows his eyebrows at you, “What’d you want me to do - bury his body? Doll, I barely even know the guy.”

You swing your arms - shooing something nonexistent away for gesturing, “Just keep him away! I don’t know, do one of those stupid ideas that you always come up with. I can’t stand seeing his face,” you complain, almost childishly stomping your feet in outrage. This was unlike you.

He lowly whistles, “I was really hoping for some real kind of exes-to-lovers type of k-drama lead coming to life,” he comments, and you muster the biggest disgusted glare at him. He only shrugs his shoulders with a mere ‘hey-what-can-you-do?’.

“However, there’s a …” he trails off, lighting up like a lightbulb with an idea in mind already.

You raise a brow, “A what?”

He looks at you with a grin, suggestively wiggling his eyebrows, “We can fake-date.”

You were dumb to ask him for ideas. You groan. “Not again.”

“C’mon,” he probes you, tugging at your arm. Was he really that bored with his life to want to fake-date you?

You blankly stare at him, deadpanned. “You get dumber and dumber the more I talk to you,” you don’t hold back from telling him, receiving a dirty scowl thrown at you, “I’m serious! Isn’t that what people do whenever one of their exes show up?”

Squinting at him, you ask, “Just how many fanfics have you been reading?”

He crosses his arms, “Make fun of me all you want, but we both know that those ideas never fail,” he huffs, “you wanted him gone, didn’t you?” he tries to resonate, “Everyone thinks we’re already a thing anyway, it won’t be too hard, or would it be much of a trouble if we just went on with it. We’re basically pros at this dating thing, aren’t we?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, “Yes, and getting back at him would feel rightfully good as hell and all but,” you sigh in exasperation, hating to be the one to ruin the fun, “doing that would mess everything up even more, I’m sure. We’d be the ones ending up as the dumb fools in the situation. Did you already forget the time we fake dated to get that girl obsessed over you off your back? And how it backfired on us?” you stated, and Riki’s thoughtful silence justified your stance.

You’d rather die the most undignified death than have Yang Jungwon win the second time around, and that was not happening under Nishimura Riki’s watch.

“If I could just turn into a wizard or anything like that and ‘magic’ him away,” you plopped an arm up on the desk, resting the side of your cheek at the palm of your hand, “probably turn him into a damn ugly and useless broomstick while at it, too.”

Riki lets out a humorous short laugh at the sight of you, “Cheer up, princess,” he slings an arm around your shoulder, poking your cheek, “I’ll help you too, and I’ll beat him up whenever he tries to go near you; hot sexy Nishimura Riki cares about your cute dumbass,” You bump your hip playfully toward his. I’m not leaving you alone, is what he was trying to say.

He’d excuse it as simply returning the favor that he asked from you. The time when the both of you fake-dated, and it backfired – forcing you to reach extreme measures that went on for months.

Right, you had Riki. And he wasn’t going to just ditch you, not like him. He’s stayed firmly next to you for the past two years through all the shit you put him though (and all the shit he put you through). Riki may have been a rascal, but he was nothing compared to how shitty Yang Jungwon was.

You simply just had to keep going and help Jungwon out in certain parts while interacting the least you could and ignore him (or preferably call Riki to tell him off, he’d love to finally be given the chance to annoy the shit out of someone) whenever he tries anything funny. As soon as it was over, you’d do your stay out of his way and pretend like nothing happened. After all, he was the one who left. If anyone was trying to run away, it’d be him.

Everything was going to be fine. You didn’t care.

It was no big deal; no extensive measures were needed.

A sharp inhale.

You didn’t know if you were lying or if you were telling the truth.

[ now playing ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ yellow by coldplay ]

↻ … ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ

Jungwon liked to follow you around.

He also liked dragging you along with him with whatever excuse he could come up with. You never could really decipher what that oddball was thinking, just when you thought you caught up to him, he surprises you with something new every day.

Lee Heeseung, your senior, was discussing that week’s event that the school was holding with you when Jungwon swoops in and drags you away without second thought, “Sorry, hyung! Gotta borrow her today ~” he throws a grin, and Heeseung could only roll his eyes, staring in playful disbelief after the both of you, “ya, that’s what you said the last three times too!”

Jungwon gives the kind of pleading look you know Heeseung couldn’t resist, “I swear I’ll pay you back with free lunch, hyung!” he yells back. You were used to being dragged away or trailed around by him; it wasn’t anything of the ordinary. He winks at you.

No matter how hard you would try to avoid him or threaten him, he was always looking at you with the most mischievous silly and crazy ideas in mind.

On the other hand, he didn��t really enjoy the idea of you hanging out with other guys.

Could you call him delusional? You really wanted to.

And then there was this other instance, where Jungwon had sulked behind you the whole period, making noises that surely irritated you whilst you interviewed Park Jay for a class paper, who was a part of the varsity team. It forced you to spend the entire day with him for the interview, which Jungwon did not seem to like. It came to the point where you had to embarrassedly excuse yourself from the number of huffs and noises he was making. Jay was left giving confused looks, completely distracted from the whole topic that the whole interview was pointless no matter how hard her tried to ignore Jungwon.

“What is your deal?” You hissed at Jungwon in annoyance as soon as you scurried away from the varsity team, “you completely embarrassed me over there, you rascal!” He doesn’t hear you. He seemed deep in thought, as if he was battling with himself. Jungwon faced you with the biggest frown - looking more distraught than ever, “You don’t like him, right?”

Your mouth slightly hangs open, thrown off-guard. What?

“He isn’t your type, isn’t he? He doesn’t look like it. You’d never go for a guy like him.” He looked ridiculous – and it wasn’t much of a shock to you. An idiot and a loser. You figured it’d only be a matter of time before he completely lost his mind. It was as if he was talking to himself. You lightly whacked his arm, trying to get some sense into him and snap him out, “What are you talking about, you rascal?”

He bores his eyes onto yours, “Whatever. I won’t let you, anyway. I’ll stay by your side you ‘till the day I die if I have to.” His eyes were set with firm determination, yet you didn’t bother pressing on - being sure he was up to no good, as usual.

He was speaking, but you couldn’t piece together what he was trying to imply. You didn’t really care either, he was a weird guy. Still, you were frustrated at him for just having to mess everything up for you again, “I can’t believe you,” you muttered incredulously, turning your heel to start walking away from him – you were done with this boy.

“Hey – angel, no, wait. Where are you going –?”

… ᵉⁿᵈ ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ ↺

↻ … ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ

Admittedly, you didn’t hate Yang Jungwon as much when you had first met him, but the dislike started to grow at a profound rate when he started acting as a nuisance the more occasions he stuck around.

You weren’t exaggerating. Jungwon was just the epitome of overbearingly unable to understand social boundaries and your extreme dislike of having him in a 2-mile radius near you.

And you had your dignity, but Jungwon was an entirely different topic. Hiding from him in the gymnasium lockers was your last resort.

“Gotcha,” a cheery voice slides in beside you out of nowhere. Your heart almost jumped out of your body in fright, did he always have to jump-scare you out of nowhere?

“Seriously –?!”

“Stop playing hide and seek with me, angel. I’d love to play this game some other time with you but not now! We have somewhere else to go!” He has got to be shallow. Or dumb. Really dumb. You don’t know. As much as he loved blabbering endless nonsense around you that never seemed to make sense and was barely capable of leaving your side, you barely knew anything of him.

You glowered at him, “I’m not playing hide and seek with you, you rascal! I’m obviously avoiding you –!”

He pats the top of your head before gently grabbing your hand, interrupting your nth effort to knock some sense into him. “Let’s go! It’s my turn for a Y/N day.” he points forward, leaving the library baggage hall that he found you hiding in. A Y/N day? What were you to him, an item? You groan, sounding sorrow. You really thought you got away from him this time. “Yah, we’re going to miss class!”

You didn’t even know why you bothered.

Jungwon tilts his head, giving you a look as if to tell you to not worry, “We’re going to the river today, anyway. I brought my boombox with me,” he proudly tells you, and you aggravatedly sigh, feeling defeated. You swore you made all the measures needed to carefully avoid him, thinking you were finally left alone.

“Why do you always bring me along?” you deadpan, trying to wriggle free from his grasp. He was probably going to insert another flirtatious line or something among those actions. Why don’t you ever leave me alone?

You never really got it. Any of his interests, in fact. Why was he so determined to pursue you? There were countless of girls who were more of a ‘challenge’, and they were all the more interesting than you, with no doubt. What did he see in you? “Don’t you have any other friends?” you pulled a face at him. Jungwon has been by your side for such a long time that you grew accustomed to his presence, still, you weren’t going to admit that.

“I don’t want to hang out with them, I want to go with you,” he simply explains, as if it was the most obvious answer.

You furrow your eyebrows at him, irritated, yet curious as you stress, “Why?”

He pauses, still looking ahead as he guides you forward, “Being around you makes me happy.” You simply glance at him and the look he has makes you shiver.

Jungwon was always straightforward. There was not an ounce of shame in that man’s soul. He said what was on his mind without any filter, and he also had a peculiar way of thinking, which in terms, you guess, made him intelligent.

A beat passes, and you don’t find a retort to throw back at him.

Jungwon was like this beaming sunshine and busted in the dark hell you drowned yourself in.

Even if you enjoyed the darkness.

He always knew where to find you.

He found you.

… ᵉⁿᵈ ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ ↺

Every year.

Every moment.

Jungwon was always there.

Yang Jungwon always knew where to find you, it was like his sixth sense. He could spot any of your bullshit or anything that you were hiding from him in a mile radius. There was no bother in hiding from him. He would always pop up by your side with a lopsided smile, carrying his guitar around and whining to you because he wanted to do something fun.

He was a bothersome child.

He was there in the times you didn’t want to see him, and he was there in the times where you needed someone but there was no one to turn to. It was as if you could summon him, you would always retort.

Making up excuses was his specialty, he always seemed to disregard everything to tag along with you. He made crazily creative alibies that never seemed to run out just in order to be able to stay by your side.

Until one day he stopped.

Until one day he ran out of reasons.

So, where was he and what was he doing two years ago when he left you the moment you needed only him the most?

One day, you woke up and he was gone. You haven’t heard from him since. Not a trace left. Not a ghost left to haunt you. And somehow, that haunted you even more.

Where did you go?

↻ … ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ

You liked the pastries that Jungwon used to make for you.

You remember that he made them for you a lot. Whenever you did a job well done on a simple test or if you overworked yourself, you always found a box of your favorite flavors on your desk or locker the following day. You didn’t have to question who it was from; he didn’t have to say anything.

You weren’t accustomed to having that kind of treatment. A simple job done is merely a simple job done. There hasn’t been much of a pat on a back or a congratulatory party for the little achievements, and that was completely fine you. However, that wasn’t the case for Jungwon.

Puzzled, you held up the mysterious box, “What is this?”

“Sweets. Try them and tell me if you like them or not,” you could tell that he was anxious in anticipation. You try and hand it back over to him, “Oh, I’m not really in the mood for sweets, you can go ahead and give them to Minju though, she loves -”

“I didn’t make them for Minju,” he stands in front of you, sort of dejected and earnest. That was a new look on him. His face seemingly somewhat deflated, and somewhat embarrassed. He scratches the back of his head awkwardly, refusing to meet your gaze as he shakes his head and changes his mind, trying to reach over the box to save his dignity in the situation.

Your eyes slightly widen, processing, “Wait,” you withdraw your extended arm, looking back at the box, pointing to it, “you made this?”

“It’s not really any -” Jungwon starts, reaching out for the box for him to take back but you swat his arm away.

“You should’ve said so, dumbass! I love things homemade,” you explain lightheartedly, your eyes glittering once you open the box to reveal damn beautifully decorated chocolates. Your mouth formed an ‘o’ shape from the blow, almost gasping.

He did that?

“You don’t have to act all that, you know,” Jungwon adds, and when you spare him a glace, you realize he’s being serious.

You roll your eyes at him, ready to punch his arm. Acting? He wishes! Was he just wanting more compliments from you, or did he really believe that his baking didn’t look like the prettiest things ever? They looked too beautiful to eat but you didn’t know if you could manage to restrain yourself from eating something that looked so delicious. “Shut up, look at that! Are you, like, a world-renowned baker or something?”

As soon as nearly half of the box was eaten by you, you mentally felt something hit you, like a pang. Though you couldn’t exactly discern what. You felt something, a lurch of it. A swell of happiness, a swell of being seen, a swell of not being alone, not anymore. “Jungwon?” you looked at him.

He leaned his weight against the wall in the front of you, taking one of his earpieces off, “Mm.”

“Thanks,” It was casual, but you meant it. You really did. He could read it from your eyes. He probably spent a lot of time making these, you thought. Then you realize that’s all he ever did to you; spend his time on you.

He’s sincere. A troublesome rascal, definitely. But sincere. It’s funny how it took him to just make some homemade sweets for you to see and realize, “you’re not that bad.”

You don’t know if you left him speechless, but you walk down the hallway with him staring after you. Words left unspoken.

Something new had changed then.

You didn’t know what to call it.

But it felt good.

… ᵉⁿᵈ ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ ↺

[ now playing ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ meet me at our spot by the anxiety ]

THE NEXT MORNING

[8:04 am] unknown number: hi good morning

[8:04 am] unknown number: it’s jungwon :)

[8:05 am] unknown number: i just wanted to wish u a good day

[8:06 am] unknown number: i’m really proud of u

Four text messages to ruin the start of your day.

And in addition, there it was: the exact familiar box of pastries on the desk you were at yesterday that morning.

You nearly got yourself nauseous at the sight.

Were you dreaming?

Blinking it off, you snap out of it. You scoff, Jungwon was more shameless and a lot bolder than you thought. What was the box supposed to signify? ‘I’m proud of you’?, ‘I’m sorry’?, or an ‘I miss you’? Either way, you never knew Yang Jungwon could ever stoop so low.

Two years and the first thing he does is give you a box of sweets, was he thinking it’d pay back all the shit he pulled? Bribe you with sweets and suddenly everything would be okay?

Your resentment for him grew even more.

Anger was a better feeling to experience other than any of the other emotions.

At the side of your eye, you could see Jungwon. You pretend not to, and you try so hard. You don’t miss the glances he throws you, he was probably waiting for your response.

Surely, he should expect from you that the response was going to be nothing good. Does he know you at all?

Throwing it away seemed over the top, but you didn’t know what the rest of your options were. You hesitate, eating it would only make him believe that everything’s okay. And in case Jungwon didn’t get the memo: everything is not okay.

This won’t hurt you.

You toss the box to someone else; your hands slightly freeze on its own for a moment when you realize Jungwon was watching. Only for a moment.

You weren’t taking his bait.

You didn’t want it.

You don’t look at him, and you don’t bother to see his reaction. Biting down your tongue, you jabbed your pen down the desk forcefully - you ignore the sense of guilt. He asked for it.

It takes a bit more effort to remain nonchalant this time.

Jungwon was getting in your nerves. Again.

LATER

You were dragged into a library group filled with people you barely knew of by Ningning and Seoyeon. You recognized Jake Sim from chemistry class, and a few others that you weren’t entirely confident you knew the name of. Jungwon was there. Of course, he had to be.

Though you were an expert at turning invitations and confessions down, you really weren’t much of the action type. Some would call you the ‘all bark, no bite’ type, but that was mostly because people who ensued and pressed on having it their way was just stubborn.

Most of your life, people went along your bark, it was rare that anyone went against it – but not impossible. Yang Jungwon.

The name flashes by your mind involuntarily as if it was a burn.

As if your mind works on its own, you find yourself staring at him – he paid no interest in the conversation as he mindlessly scrolled through his phone, bored. The only word he had ever said was when he had assertively stated that he wanted the seat that was close to yours. He had also joined the conversation and firmly voted against Jake sitting next to you. What a problem boy.

[02:44 pm] yang jungwon: u look good today

You were bored, but definitely not bored enough to be willing to immerse yourself into that mess.

You were entirely out of the group’s topic of conversation yourself, immersing yourself all in your head and thoughts until a girl named Naeun – you think – waggles her brows at you. “What about you, ms. ‘most-popular-with-guys’?”

“How many of them did you turn down this week?” Lee adds into it lightheartedly, poking fun.

Jungwon’s attention is immediately averted to you – and you hate that you can feel his gaze boring into your face.

You feel more uncomfortable than ever, trying to argue with them, “What? That’s not true—!”

Ningning’s eyes glint in mischievousness, taking in your denial as something you were embarrassed about as she joins into the conversation. But it wasn’t, not entirely.

You were highly uncomfortable. “Don’t deny it. You’re more than just ‘popular’ with guys. I swear I saw with my own eyes at least two guys try and hit you up on this exact library alone from the past few days.”

You could hear chortled laughter from around you.

You know none of the voices belonged to or were from Jungwon.

You’d rather suffocate.

“I heard you were pretty popular with the guys during your high school years too!” Seoyeon chirped. You felt nauseated. Where did they even hear that information? You incredulously retorted to yourself.

“D’you date any of them?” Lun from literature class pipes in, interested. You feel your face turn hot against your will. “Any hotties you can introduce me to?” someone adds into it suggestively, clearly enjoying the topic of discussion.

Your face starts to sour, reeking of irritation.

“Ooh! I remember hearing Y/N dated a guy during high school. That’s probably why she wasn’t able to date much?” Ningning suggests, and you wanted to kick her out of the room. Was anyone just not able to pick out on social cues? Was everyone not able to notice how uncomfortable you looked?

Seoyeon’s eyes enlarged in alarm, “Y/N dated before?” Despite the distressing situation, you almost slipped out a laugh, you were always known for your strong dislike towards romance and men and you liked it that way. You guess the impression still hasn’t changed.

He’s in the exact same room right now, you wanted to spit out. Your face hardens, but you don’t say anything.

“What’s the big deal? We were barely anything anyway.”

Ningning does not get your clue, instead, she looks more confused than ever. “Huh? From what I heard; you both were pretty serious.”

“You never told me anything about him,” Seoyeon complains, grabbing your arm and repeatedly swinging it around. With everyone’s attention on you, your usual ‘i-hate-everyone’ façade falls into dust.

You snort, keeping your tone casual, “About what? He was barely anyone special, in the first place.”

A bunch of unanimous curious ‘oohs’ were heard around the room. “Oohlala, spill. What made the relationship end?”

You take a thoughtful pause, as if it was the first time you were giving it thought, “He was selfish.” A shrug.

You ensure that the whole table hears your answer, especially him. Ningning scrunches her nose in distaste at your answer, “Ugh, typical. Boys really aren’t shit.”

“You’d give your entire world to them, and they decide that it’s not enough. Discontented assholes.” Lee comments with a bunch of insults thrown away without regard, and the Seoyeon pretends to vomit at the mention of boys. “Dirtbags. His loss,” is all she says.

You really don’t have any idea of what to do in this situation.

A strangled noise escapes Jungwon, and he covers it up with loud coughs. He looked like he’s just been badly burned, and you try to casually shift in your seat. The rest of the group takes it as a cue to ask him the same question as well, figuring he wanted to be included.

“And what about you, newbie?” Jake notices, an effort to try to get Jungwon to feel included. “Ever dated before?”

He stares blankly in response. A glance your way, and it takes a fraction of a second for you to avert your eyes away. You hope no one caught that. A moment. Or two. Until, “No, never.” Casually, with a helpless shrug before his attention was back on his phone. He doesn’t even regard that you were ever a part of his past.

Your insides clenches on their own.

That was it. The signal. You were back to being notoriously known for your cold behavior, good grades, and popular game with men, while Jungwon was back into his reputation of being a cute and care-free affectionate and loveable brat that would never do anyone wrong.

Everything was back the way it started.

Rewind. A start over. Where Jungwon doesn’t get to see the nurturing, caring, childish, and mischievous side of you, and where you never got to see the depth to him: his coolness and his silence. The eyebrow lifts, his head-pats, his reliability, his loyalty, his promises, his stories, his determination – everything about him that everyone missed, that was simply nothing now.

We’ll never be those kids again.

Your phone buzzes.

[02:52 pm] yang jungwon: i figured u didn’t want them to know.

[02:54pm] yang jungwon: are you mad?

Both your eyes meet in the midst of the others bickering with each other.

All the remnants of history erased.

↻ … ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ

[ JUNGWON'S POV: 1 YEAR AGO ]

“I’ve been looking for you all night!” she skips, twirling in front of him, “What d’you think? I figured you might like this outfit.” She had an annoying voice, and was definitely way too clingy. Black long hair or something, honestly, any of the faces he’s seen were all only just blank and empty to him.

Jungwon doesn’t even regard her existence.

“C’mon ~” The girl drags, tugging at his arm. He doesn’t even know her name. He’s probably crossed by her more than a couple times with the way she was acting.

She was annoying. Not like you at all. No one was like you.

Jungwon was already in a sour mood. “You’ve been stuck at the couch all night, you lame-dummy!” She points a dragging finger to his chest, “No one wants to be a lame-dummy, c’mon, come with me! It’ll be fun,” she tries to persuade in a sing-song voice, inviting him in.

It doesn’t shake him by the least.

He shakes his head, shortly emitting a single scoff in irritation as he jerks away the hand on his shoulder. His tense facial features say everything. Without saying another word, he chooses to leave the room quietly and awkwardly without bidding goodbye to the other friends who invited him.

These parties were useless. Everything was useless. Every day was too boring and empty without meaning.

He had no place here.

This wasn’t where he belonged.

He damn well still belonged to that person he always has belonged to.

You.

… ᵉⁿᵈ ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ ↺

[09:12 pm] yang jungwon: hello bo ;]

[09:12 pm] yang jungwon: i hope u had a good day :)

[09:17 pm] yang jungwon: i’m always here if u need me

[09:17 pm] yang jungwon: just so you know

[09:17 pm] yang jungwon: i’ll always be there

[09:20 pm] yang jungwon: and i hope i crossed your mind at least once..

read

A FEW DAYS LATER

You were beyond thankful to have Seoyeon around him to save yourself the awkward interactions.

She was the icebreaker. The only factor that allowed you to act as if Jungwon wasn’t there in the first place and ignore his existence. Given that she was an icebreaker, she was also clueless.

She had no idea of the hatred you had for him - or the reluctance to look his way, much more interact with him. It wasn’t her fault, but you wish you rather didn’t have to explain the situation to her as the only option for her to stop trying to get you and Jungwon to talk.

“Wasn’t yesterday fun? It was nice having new people around,” she brings up as a conversation starter. Jungwon was minding his business working on his project on the side, the both of you had your free time. You politely smile at her, and you know it looks genuine. Explaining things to her wasn’t ideal – you shudder that the possibilities that would happen once you’d confess the situation.

Maybe Jungwon was a private secret of your past that you were never meant to bring up to those in your present.

“That reminds me, who’s the group you hang out with? We really should hang out more.” She slightly frowns before adding, “You’re really fun!”

“You too,” you add with a half grin, and you genuinely mean it. You kindly nod in agreement with a laugh, desperate to end the topic – but Seoyeon doesn’t cease her intent of giving up her first question.

She smiles at you expectantly as she awaits for an answer, and though you know she’s really just trying to make friends, if awkward topics were all that she was going to be bringing up around you, you would rather not converse with her at all. “Oh uh, that question,” you forced a laugh that comes out awkward, “no one else, really.”

Her lips form a small ‘o’ shape, apologizing for intruding. She softly gasps, alarmed, “Really? To be honest, I think it’s because everyone’s intimidated of you. It was until a few seconds ago that the whole campus figured you had countless of friend groups. Me included.”

You furiously shake your head at her, making a dreadful face in which she giggles at, “Oh God, no.” you comment, “it’s really just me,” you pause, “and Riki of course. Riki. Me and Riki. No one else. Kind of a loner,” you coughed out an awkward ramble, but Seoyeon never even seemed to mind.

“That’s cool, neither way! I get to have you to myself,” she teases lightheartedly as she links her arm around yours.

You were too flustered to notice that Jungwon had heard everything.

THAT EVENING

[10:21 pm] yang jungwon: hi love

[10:22 pm] yang jungwon: you must be tired i hope u rest up tonight :)

[10:22 pm] yang jungwon: i’ve really missed u

[11:49 pm] yang jungwon: goodnight love, sweet dreams :) ♡

read

By the next day, at the end of class, you’re forced to work with Jungwon at the library for the afternoon. Seoyeon was running late by fifteen minutes. This was the only time you didn’t mind.

The air is cold, and the tension was cutthroat, you could suffocate, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Starting a friendly conversation? Why even bother?

You decided to ask him straightforward the moment he tries to initiate conversation by asking you a question, cutting him off, “What are you pulling at?” you blankly stared at him, pokerfaced. Maybe you went off too aggressive, but his face slacks; he was definitely accustomed to your whole act of ignoring his existence, and probably never expected you to even spare a glance his way.

A long pause before he regains his composure, “What do you mean?” his voice is a lot quieter and controlled compared to the past. Now that you notice it, he’s changed in a lot of ways. He’s no longer the bright happy-go-lucky rascal that you were once familiar with. No longer the one who didn’t care about grades, but the one sitting beside you at one of the best universities. He’s … matured a lot.

“The messages?” cutting directly into it, your eyes narrowed on him, “what are you trying to pull at?” you interrogate him. Tell me lies. Tell me the truth. Tell me you’re leaving. Tell me you’re staying.

Surprise is written all over his face, catching him off gaurd, “They’re nothing,” he clears his throat, words getting caught in the midst of it. “I just thought … I, um,” he trailed off, avoiding direct eye contact.

Your hard gaze doesn’t falter, patience running thin. “Spit it out, Yang.”

He winces at your tone, and you wished you hadn’t seen that. “I just thought that you needed it. Not needed it exactly, but, well, I assumed - I wanted to let you know -” he doesn’t finish his sentence, but starts another one instead, “I just miss you,” he states, and he’s looking at you - you remember that kind of look. The kind of look that would once tug at your heartstrings.

Once.

You don’t know what Yang Jungwon is pulling at.

Hm.

You stare down hard at him - eyes narrowed, prospecting, judging, and surveying. You no longer tremble at his words. You don’t falter. Have you grown immune to them? Maybe you were sincerely and truly over him after all.

He was pulling at his charms. His thoughtfulness - the little aspects that’d make you believe that he actually cared; the things you so easily fell into. Not anymore. Not after you believed, once.

Once was enough. It’s all a simple game to him, isn’t it?

The day you break down in front of him and let him hold the strings again would be the day you would die.

Not showing a flicker of emotion, you nonchalantly tsked, irritated, “Don’t bother again, will you?”

Jungwon doesn’t say anything, but you feel his lingering stare.

Your settling glare on the textbook in front of you could burn holes. You let him go – you dismiss him, but he never leaves his spot.

Why does he always linger behind?

[01:03pm] yang jungwon: i don’t know if we should be alone together

read

[02:54pm] yang jungwon: i really can’t control myself when you’re around

read

[04:23pm] yang jungwon: i miss the old you

[04:26pm] yang jungwon: im sorry

read

How much was it going to take for you to admit that you felt the same?

[05:33pm] yang jungwon: just so you know i didn’t mean it that way

[05:33pm] yang jungwon: i just noticed that you’ve changed

[05:33pm] yang jungwon: of course you’ve changed

[05:35pm] yang jungwon: you don’t look at me the same anymore

read

[04:47am] yang jungwon: hi bo

[04:47am] yang jungwon: im sorry but i cant

[04:48am] yang jungwon: i really cant let you go

message delivered

A FEW WEEKS LATER

It didn’t take much for her to piece together. She noticed the pattern of behavior from you, your sour and aggravated persona, and Jungwon’s desperate efforts, then figured you were probably his ex.

“You know,” she clicks her tongue, “the thing about love and hate is that there’s a very thin line between them.”

She squints, fingers fiddling around with a penny as she tries to explain, “they’re two sides of the same coin.”

You made a face. She’s been going about this for hours and showed no sign of stopping. Whining, you turn her way, “what are you taking about this time?”

A grin. She raises both her brows in surrender, “You guys got a lot of unfinished business.”

You give her a look, unimpressed.

“The guy nearly snapped his head yesterday the moment he heard you laugh because he wanted to know what you were laughing about,” Seoyeon stares down at you steadily, provoked that you managed to toss the fact over too easily.

You throw her a crumpled piece of paper, and she easily dodges your throw. “Sure.” you snort, barely feigning any interest.

“Cut him some slack! He was your ex for goodness’ sake, some feelings for him still have to be there at some point. You can’t hate your ex that much without actually-maybe-probably loving them,” she singsongs teasingly. This was lighthearted, you knew, but.

You deadpanned. Feelings.

She has got to be serious.

Some feelings still have to be there.

Your heart didn’t feel anything.

Not anymore.

She stares at you in the silence, faking astonishment.

Her mouth forms a small ‘o’, “You’ve got to be serious.”

You only blink at her.

“Stop … don’t you feel anything for him anymore? Or is it like … nothing at all?” Of course, she was talking about him, you knew that - but why were you suddenly caught off guard? This was crazy.

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

No one has ever asked you this question.

How were you going to answer that?

You resented him.

You were angry. More than pissed.

You hated everything about him.

Your face scrunches up in disgust at the thought, but you answer her question after a pause, “One thing I know for sure,” you start casually, pausing in consideration, “is that I don’t want to see that annoying face of his again.”

You meant every word, this time.

You were willing to do whatever it took for that to happen.

At that moment, Seoyeon then concludes that the both of you had unfinished business. Jungwon was clearly not over you, anyone with a mile radius could see that. The boy was drop-dead crazy for you.

The more you try and repress feelings, the larger it grows.

How cliché does that sound?

She tilts her head to the side, glancing your way. But in a way, she knew it wasn’t one-sided, either.

[ now playing ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ all too well by taylor swift ]

↻ … ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ

“Jungwon?” you whispered incredulously. Rubbing your eyes due to your half-asleep state, you leaned your frame against your door with your worry starting to alarm you awake. “What’re you doing here?”

Standing at your apartment door, your boyfriend appeared rugged, his eyes tired and drowsy. You noticed his clothes were still of what you saw him wear yesterday morning. your heart ached to see him in such a state, concluding he had spent the whole day producing, working, and overworking himself without rest. You hated whenever he did this to himself.

Seeing you frown, Jungwon pulls you to his embrace, wrapping you around his arms with a contented sigh, “Just wanted to see my baby,” he mumbles out incoherently, fighting through sleep, “I’ve missed you.”

You clung onto him, your face still at a cloudy state of haze – unreservedly astounded. Meanwhile on the other hand, Jungwon continues to laugh over your dumbfounded look. He pinches the sides of your cheeks, cooing over at you. As you try to wriggle yourself away, you found yourself embracing your figure back into his arms to squeeze his waist tightly in fear that he might disappear. He teases you at the action, lightheartedly calling you his little koala, but you don’t miss the endearing tone to his voice – or the way his breath hitches from your embrace.

“You’re here,” you managed to breathe out to yourself, burying your forehead against his neck. Squeezing your eyes shut, you desperately hoped to the gods above that the moment you opened them, everything wasn’t just going to turn out as another dream of yours. You could barely process much more comprehend what was going on, ‘he’s here, he’s here, he’s here’ were the only notions you could formulate by the slightest, chanting through your brainwork repeatedly for you to comprehend. Humorously, you didn’t wonder how he was possibly here, or why. He shouldn’t be - he was too busy.

You didn’t think about the fact that he’s supposed to be halfway across the world working on his production, and definitely not here. Inhaling his scent, your ongoing worries and stress had seemed to evaporate, your form relaxing almost immediately. He smelled like home.

The loud chatters and distinctive outside noise from people passing by that surrounded the both of you, along the fact that the both of you were in a public place – all had seemed to drown out and appear forgotten. You clung to his warm figure after months of being apart, out of all the days you’d secretly dreamed about him surprising you, you never figured today was going to be that day. You clasped onto him even tighter, your smile growing wider by the second, it’s been quite some time since you ever felt half this happy.

He let out a low vibrating laugh with your face pressed against his chest, engulfing you tightly around his hold whilst swaying the both of you side to side. It was little moments and acts of efforts like these that mattered most to you. You drowned yourself at the rhythm and sound of his heartbeat that spoke the words the both of you already knew; he had missed you.

“I promised, didn’t I?”

Maybe you were always too busy for Yang Jungwon when the both of you dated.

Maybe that was it.

Maybe that was the reason why.

Or maybe he simply always seeking attention from you, constantly and childishly. He complained about you studying too much as he started sulking alone was, he wandered around the place ‘miserably’, while you were trying to place your focus on your book, refusing to give into him again.

A little later and he tossed the fact that he had to pick up some errands, and you volunteered to help accompany him since he mentioned that he’d only be out for a while.

But after picking up the things he had acquired through his errands, the rain was against your luck and poured heavily. You cursed at yourself, having brought no umbrella with you. Looking at Jungwon, you could judge immediately by then that he didn’t bring one as well.

“Running for it sounds pretty good,” you suggested with a beam on your face, but you noticed how Jungwon huffed in disagreement, not approving of the idea; worrying that the rain might get you hurt or sick as he starts pulling out deliberate excuses and reasons.

“It’s too slippery out in the rain, you might fall,”

“Car accidents happen more often in the rain,”

“You’ll get sick, can you afford to be sick at a time like this?”

You ignored all his protests when you decided to just audaciously leave the store entrance before walking into the rain without any given warning.

He doesn’t say anything, and when you glanced back at him in question, you immediately noticed how visibly irritated he was with you misbehaving and ignoring him. Jungwon was always overly protective over you.

Though you appreciated it, his over-protectiveness wasn’t something you exactly needed at this time of your mid-terms. You just needed to study, and Jungwon could simply work on his music. The place you were at wasn’t too far from home, so it wasn’t exactly too absurd to make a run for it.

His eyes zeroed on you, giving no humor in his eyes, “Come back in here.”

You looked at him with fake-pleading eyes, “I left my notes back home,” you frowned.

“I don’t care. You are not getting sick.”

He wanted to sit the rain out, of course he did. But you didn’t know when the rain was going to stop, or if it ever showed any signs of stopping, in the first place. Just by your boyfriend’s tone itself, you knew you got yourself in trouble. That was not a good sign, he would always pull some crazy idea that would always try to teach you a lesson.

You didn’t move an inch from your spot.

Jungwon hurdled at you once he realizes that you were being stubborn, wrapping his arms around your waist securely regardless of the hefty downpour of rain, “Step another foot further and I’ll make sure you’ll never be touching your beloved notes again.”

“Ugh, Yang Jungwon, are you crazy?” you argued, trying to untangle yourself from him but his firm grip wouldn’t let you go.

“Jungwon, I’m serious! I really need to study, I have my exams—!”

“Aish, you’d be on your deathbed, and you wouldn’t even think of me at all, you would only care about studying!” he contested nonsensically as he dramatically complains.

You scowled at his comment, your face souring as you try wriggling yourself out of his grasp even harder, “Yah, you rascal!”

“Come back inside and I’ll let you go,” he conditions, a small grin showing that he had won. You glower at him, but having no choice but to subit and wait the next two hours by the porch of the store for the rain to subside. He covers you by towering in front of you, ensuring that you weren’t going to get hit by the rain.

Jungwon was a lot of maintenance - a lot of people would say, but he was adorable.

And most of all, he was yours.

… ᵉⁿᵈ ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ ↺

PRESENT [ JUNGWON'S POV ]

Jungwon spends the rest of his night at school fixing up your science project, without an ounce of sleep.

He finds Sunoo dropping by the room, slightly jumping in surprise at the sight of him there. He covers his chest with his hand, “What the hell are you doing here?” he lightheartedly scolds him.

But he pauses squinting at him, “Were you . . .” his eyes widen, “Dude, did you spend the entire night here?” he asks Jungwon, bewildered. “Doing . . .” he tilts his head, taking a peek, and his mouth hangs open as he finally pieces things together, “-Y/N’s science lab project . . .?”

Sunoo’s eyes almost budge out of his sockets. “Isn’t this what Y/N’s been worrying crazy about –? How did you –?”

He couldn’t exactly admit that he’s overheard you complaining about your project and begging others to help you with it miserably. He knew you always took your grades seriously, but, how could he explain this to Sunoo of all people?

Jungwon looks conflicted, immediately standing away from your project. He was finished wish it, anyway. He just needed to get here undetected by you. Kim Sunoo was a problem, however. There was no way Sunoo wasn’t not telling you about this.

“Don’t tell her I did this,” Jungwon tells him, reading Sunoo’s next moves.

His eyes dart from the project to Jungwon. He frowns, confused. “Why not?”

Jungwon hesitates with his words, being careful. “Just because. Don’t.” What the hell can he say? The bell rings, and he panics.

“She has a hell of an ego, you know this. Tell her you fixed this or something. I don’t know. Make some shit up.”

He scurries out the lab but hangs behind at the entrance door for a few seconds.

Jungwon emphasizes what he’s told Sunoo. “I’m counting on you, bro.”

He slips away like a ghost.

Sunoo tells you that Ningning and Jake helped with your final lab project, and you believed it – eyes sparkling with relief and complete utter gratitude. You wondered how they got to finish the project in a day. They were the chemistry experts of the class, anyway – who were you to question them?

Sunoo sees Jungwon at the side of the room looking at you and your project. He watches him watch you. How happy you were with the project, and the endless showering of compliments. Was he really just . . . not going to tell you?

Sunoo takes a look at both you and Jungwon and scratches his head in utter confusion. What was going on with the both of you?

He has no idea what that boy is hiding.

A FEW DAYS LATER IN THAT WEEK

Jungwon really was getting in your nerves.

On your way to class, you did nothing but mind your own business when he swirls out of nowhere and pushes you aside, refraining you from entering the classroom. You furrow your eyebrows in annoyance, trying to wriggle away from his grasp, but his grip stays firm. He’s holding the sides of both your arms to let you stay in place, looking anxious and rushed. “Wait.”

“Yang Jungwon, what the hell?”

He tries to find words to say, but he can’t find any. “I . . . like the color of your hair. Did you dye it?”

Your stare is blank. “What?”

“I need recommendations. I might use it too, so –“

“This is my natural hair color.” you deadpan, without an ounce of friendliness, “now if you’ll excuse me –”

“No! Gah,” he lets out a frustrated noise, rushed, “. . . the speech report! I need help in –“

He was messing with you. He had to be.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to do,” you try to breathe in calmly, but you were talking through your gritted teeth. “You submitted your speech report last week,” you hissed, your patience running thin.

You finally wriggle yourself free from his grasp, and that was when the panic was evident in Jungwon’s features.

You barely get to move an inch before, “Do you still have hang-ups on me?” He rushes out of nowhere, an attempt of desperation.

What?

To say that you were at a loss for words was an understatement.

You freeze. Staring at him, dumbfounded.

Were you simply a joke to him?

What was he saying? He was desperate, willing to just have your attention anywhere else. You could not enter the room. That was his plan.

You were trying to regain composure. Clamping your jaw down hard, your eyes narrowed. “Please, kindly fuck off.”

You stalk away, pissed off.

As soon as he ensured that you were walking the opposite direction, and Jungwon heaves a small sigh of relief. At least.

He budges the door classroom open – the room he had noticed that a couple of asshats were trying to pull on harsh pranks on – and immediately, an old tray of leftover food spills from above, falling flat on the floor instead as Jungwon dodges it from anticipating this beforehand.

And you piece thing and thing together.

This was what he was driving you away from?

Because that could’ve been you.

His eyes settle on the group of bullies seated at the end of the room. He cracks his knuckles. Jungwon’s eyes have never been so deadly.

Jungwon comes in class later with a purple bruise coloring his upper left cheek, and a busted lip.

You don’t ask him the story, but instead, you assume the worst in him. Like you always do.

He’s up to no good.

He always was.

[08:12pm] yang jungwon: are you going?

[08:21pm] you: ?

[08:21pm] yang jungwon: oh hi love

[08:22pm] yang jungwon: are you coming to gyeonju tower tomorrow? i wanted to tell you in person today but you seemed like u were in a rush to leave

[08:24pm] you: ? what do you want

[08:25pm] yang jungwon: i wanted to explain things

[08:25pm] yang jungwon: and explain myself

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[08:53pm] yang jungwon: i want to make things right

[08:54pm] yang jungwon: please let me, bo

[08:54pm] you: im busy.

[08:57pm] yang jungwon: i’ll be waiting for you tomorrow at 1pm

[09:00pm] you: i said im not going.

[09:02pm] yang jungwon: just one chance, please

[09:04pm] yang jungwon: one last one

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You didn’t care, you weren’t going.

THE FOLLOWING DAY

You’ve decided that you wouldn’t go.

You won’t go.

You won’t go, end of discussion.

You spent the last night considering it until two in the morning. You’ve finalized your decision. “This is a no-brainer. Who does he think he is? I’m not giving him the satisfaction,” you rant morely to yourself - it was almost as if you werer trying to convince yourself instead.

You tug at the ends of your hair in frustration, hissing. Both Ningning and Seoyeon watches you in silent amusement after being told of the situation. The two were the only ones who knew about you and Jungwon, and the only two who you’ve been ranting to for the past two hours.

“I’m not going,” you repeat aggravatedly, exclaiming as you fling your arms. You pace around the room.

Ningning languidly lazes around the chair as you frantically pace around the room, “So you’ve told us for the past forty six times,” she can’t help but comment, fighting away her grin. You scowl at her, grabbing the strap of your bag to sling it around your shoulder.

“You guys are annoying. I’m leaving.”

Both Seoyeon and Ningning stare after you, waving you goodbye at your stressed state.

Ningning props herself up with her elbows, leaning her cheek with the palm of her hands as soon as you’ve left the room. She stares at Seoyeon, who was mindlessly scrolling through her phone, “She’s definitely going, isn’t she?”

Seoyeon tosses the bag of chips that she’s been hogging Ningning’s way - which she accepts immediately, munching down on the ones on her palm with disinterest, “Yep.”

LATER, 1 PM

You tug awkwardly at your sleeve, eyes searching for a certain figure in mind as they bunglingly dart around the place.

So, maybe you really did end up going to the tower. Just to check things out. That was it. And maybe see if he was there. If he really showed up. Hear what he wanted to say if it was important. Nothing more. You felt bad just leaving him alone - you weren’t like him, intentionally leaving someone on for hours to wait for you.

You had a conscience. You simply showed up because you didn’t want to be burdened by it.

You don’t know how long you waited on the first half of the period under the heat of the sun from the tower, but by the time you take out your phone to check the time, it was half past one in the afternoon.

Tick-tok.

You stare at your phone’s lock screen, expecting a text from Jungwon to pop up any second to inform you that he was probably running late. Anything.

An hour passes by.

You figure you’d give him another thirty minutes. Just another thirty minutes. If he wasn’t going to show up, you didn’t care anymore. You would leave.

It was past 30 minutes.

Another hour passes by.

Until rain starts to lightly drizzle.

Until clouds start to darken.

Until your legs start to ache.

And until you were soaking and clothes drenched with water in the pouring heavy rain.

Again.

Until it dawns on you.

Jungwon isn’t here.

He wasn’t coming.

He was never going to.

And there you were, standing alone stupidly – a fool. A fool who never learned her lesson after two years.

He was enjoying this; toying with you, he’s got to be.

You don’t know why you really expected anything else from him.

A heavy exhale.

You don’t know why you hoped you did.

You get a call from Jungwon by the evening. You were dumbly weak enough to easily get manipulated to answer the phone.

He sounded frantic, “Hello? Y/N? I’m so sorry, I wasn’t able to attend our meet-up. I’m - I’m really sorry, I was really planning to go -” You wish you could believe him.

“Yeah. It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” you sound too monotone for your words to sound like you meant them.

“I’m so sorry that you waited on me, I promise I’ll make it up to -” No more promises. No more, Jungwon. I can’t take anymore.

You harshly cut him off, oppressive. “What do you mean? I didn’t come. I told you I won’t, didn’t I?”

You still had your dignity. Lies were all that you had left. You’d lie just for Jungwon to not get that sense of satisfaction from you. You wouldn’t let him.

He is silent, “Yeah, I know.”

You inhale, vexed. Your eyes flicker around the room, feeling flighty with apprehension. “What’s up, anyway? What held you from coming?” you made an effort to sound as casual as possible bringing it up, as if you didn’t care. As if you didn’t spend the whole afternoon drenched in pouring rain waiting for him.

A long silent pause again. You could tell he was hesitating to answer.

He tries to let out a lighthearted laugh as he waves it off, "It’s nothing.”

It was nothing, again. It’s always nothing. Were you ever something - anything - to him?

It takes a moment for you to register his response. How effortlessly care-free he was about it. Your tone appears tight, “Okay. Well, it’s good that you weren’t able to go. I wasn’t there anyway.” You didn’t know what else to say other than stressing that you never came. That you didn’t care.

Lie.

“Oh,” is what Jungwon replies with, he sounded distracted - like his mind wasn’t in the conversation. He wasn’t interested in talking to you anyway, why did he bother calling?

You grit at your teeth, “I’m not a fool, Jungwon.”

You don’t know if he’s even listening to you, you start to question. It takes long for him to respond, “I know.”

He was being as short with his responses as ever. Was this what he called explaining himself? You doubt if he ever cared about making it up to you in the first place. You try to hide your disappointment in your tone with impatience, “Is that all? I’m gonna go now. I’m busy.”

You don’t wait for his reply.

You immediately end the call and toss your phone as far as you could.

You hope that was worth it for Jungwon.

[ JUNGWON’S POV ] . . . what really happened

Jungwon woke up three hours earlier that day.

When Jungwon was getting himself dressed, a boy from across the city was still sleeping through his alarm that he wasn’t able to set the night before. Meanwhile, a girl was waiting somewhere in the city’s lobby, waiting for her boyfriend to pick her up.

While that happened, Jungwon was on his way to a jewelry shop to buy you a gift. He was beyond excited to see you. The boy from across the city was still sleeping, but the girl’s boyfriend eventually came to pick her up. On the other side, Jungwon had forgotten his credit card, and had no other option to pay by cash.

By this time, the sleeping boy’s mother barges into the boy’s room to wake him up as he was late for class – and asking him if he spent another late night playing with his friends. The girl in her boyfriend’s car receives a text from her ex while her boyfriend stops by to pick up the cake they ordered for their anniversary.

Jungwon was nearly at the Gyeonju tower when the boy who was running late for class stumbled out of the house, got on his bike, and peddled as fast as he could. The girl was already texting her ex-boyfriend by this time, and before she could tuck her phone away as soon as her boyfriend got into the car, the boyfriend had caught her already.

All the while the couple slowly started to argue about her talking to her ex, Jungwon was stuck in traffic and anxiously waiting – frustrated. Though he had more than an hour to spare, he wanted to see you as quickly as possible. This was the moment of his life that meant most to him. The boy who was running late took a wrong turn because he was not on the right state of mind, still half-asleep.

The couple argued all the way to the girlfriend’s parents’ house while the boy in the bike running late was trying to find his way out of the unfamiliar place, completely flustered. Jungwon had already arrived at Gyeonju tower, parking his car before trying to fix up his hair. He never really cared about how he looked like, but Jungwon’s nerves were jittering. This was the first time he was so anxious to see you.

And finally, at the same time, the boy was too distracted to see the couple’s car in front of him – as well as the couple, as they were still too busy arguing. Jungwon had just gotten out of the car, crossing the road.

It all happened too quickly.

If the son had set his alarm the day before and wasn’t running late for his class, if the girl hadn’t picked up the call from her ex-boyfriend, if couple hadn’t been arguing while the boyfriend was driving, or if Jungwon didn’t take his time in the car mirror trying to make sure he looked good for you - then maybe he would’ve gotten to meet you that night.

Maybe he wouldn’t have gotten into that car accident.

Maybe none of this would’ve be happening right now.

Life is a series of multiple interactions, they said.

The next situation Jungwon finds himself in was lying still – unable to move – in the hospital emergency room with blood – his blood? – covered all over his clothes, and when he gains the smallest bit of energy to barely open his eyes, he feels like he’s lost everything all over again.

In spite of all the events, he remembers you.

Your smile.

And his promise.

But he blacks out.

The moment Jungwon awakes into consciousness, his first thought isn’t what he was doing in an emergency room hospital, all alone. It isn’t wondering why he had blood all over his clothes, or why his body physically hurt too much for him to move.

His first thought was you.

His first thought was always going to be you. Where were you? What-? He sees the small bag settled beside him, squinting at it - before realizing it was for you. For the meeting. Today. Shit. In less than half a second, he ignores the pins and needles of his skin feeling like it was being stretched out just to reach his phone and dial your number.

“Hello? Y/N? I’m so sorry, I wasn’t able to attend our meet-up. I’m - I’m really sorry, I was really planning to go -”

Your tone interrupts him midway, seemingly clipped and tight. “Yeah. It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” were you mad? Guessing by the tone of your voice, you seemed upset. Lord, he begged for that one chance you gave him and he had to go through this out of all the occasions?

You pinches the bridge of his nose after running a hand through his hair, cursing inwardly. How many more chances could you give him? You would never believe him ever again. “I’m so sorry that you waited on me, I promise I’ll make it up to -”

Your response hits him right in the gut, harder and more painful than any of the stitches and bandages he had being freshly reopened. “What do you mean? I didn’t come. I told you I won’t, didn’t I?”

His throat constricts, eyes lowering as the grip on the phone tightens, “Yeah, I know.” He hangs his head low.

You shrug it off with disinterest, your tone indifferent. “What’s up, anyway? What held you from coming?”

He hesitates, glancing down at the patches of bandages and stitches. He doesn’t try to explain. He doesn’t want you to know. What could he say to cover things up? He tries to avoid sounding suspicious with a lighthearted laugh, “It’s nothing.”

God, it sounded fake.

Your indifference rings through his mind over and over again. Did you really not care about him anymore? Did you really mean it when you said you weren’t going to go? A sharp stab in the heart each time the thought rings through him.

A pause.

“Okay. Well, it’s good that you weren’t able to go. I wasn’t there anyway.”

“Oh,” was all Jungwon could respond with, he was beginning to feel dizzy - overwhelmed and exhausted. A sharp buzz rang deaf through his ears.

The room started to spin as you continued through the call – unaware, “I’m not a fool, Jungwon,” you remind him. Was it really the end?

Has he finally lost you?

He doesn’t know what to say, but he couldn’t deny the fact that it hurt. Everything hurts. Fuck. A long pause, “I know.”

“Is that all? I’m gonna go now. I'm busy,” you harshly end things, not bothering to expant the conversation or on the details. You don’t push him. You don’t care.

The line went dead.

A piece of him along with it died too.

Jungwon sits at one of the emergency room’s beds alone and he realizes that the hospital could heal all his physical wounds and scars, but he doesn’t think the internal pain he’s feeling could be treated.

A nurse that was passing by finds him passed out, unconscious, and unresponsive only long minutes later.

A WEEK LATER

Initially, you had planned to keep away from Jungwon at all costs the moment classes started again. He could suffer all he needed.

But.

You don’t see Jungwon.

Not that you cared if he was around - it was a relief to you that you didn’t have to deal with him, but didn’t you .. deserve an explanation?

No.

That’s right. An explanation from Jungwon for ditching you was something you would never get. That hasn’t changed, and you were a fool for believing otherwise.

You repeatedly sneak glances by his desk - anywhere, for a sign of him. It was useless to ask anyone else. His friends? When had Jungwon ever tried talking to somebody that wasn’t you?

Not that you ever took notice, either.

It’s been a week.

Seconds tick by slowly, and lectures drag in what seems like hours. It comes to the point where you almost decide on texting his number and demanding where he was. It took every part of yourself to manage to not do so.

Your notifications remained empty this time.

No messages. No calls.

He’s gone again.

THREE WEEKS LATER [JUNGWON’S POV ]

With a fractured arm and multiple wounds and stitches, Jungwon had to opt to wait three weeks before he was able to attend classes again.

He only looks forward to seeing your face.

To explain everything to you.

He messed up again.

Maybe you were looking for him? It’s been three weeks, maybe you had wondered for a fraction where he went all of a sudden? Maybe you were worried? Maybe you were concerned? Or maybe you didn’t care? Maybe you were celebrating right now?

He flinches that the thought.

He spots you by the hallways after his hour long search around the campus. You barely looked bothered at all. That was fine, Jungwon reminded himself. He walks his way towards you with the gift he had bought you weeks prior, when the accident had happened. The gift he had protected with his life to save, and had held on for weeks to give to you. If he wasn’t going to explain things, he at least wanted to give you the gift he had picked for you.

He thinks you’d look pretty in it.

However, as soon as he tries to open his mouth to speak to you once he was close enough for you to hear him, you coldly ignore him entirely. You pack up your things once you hear the bell, ringing just in time for classes to start. You barely even spare him a single glance.

You walk past him like was invincible.

Like you couldn’t care any less of what happened to him.

It turns out, you were never worried at all.

That fucking him hurt more than being hit by a car a hundred times ever did.

[01:24 pm] yang jungwon: im sorry

[01:29 pm] yang jungwon: can we talk?

[read]

You blocked yang jungwon’s number that day.

[JUNGWON . . . ]

Seoyeon made you laugh.

It was unintentional, he guessed. But she made you laugh. In a way. Other’s might’ve called it a snort. It was a goofy side-comment he made when you expanded the instructions on the chapter needed to be finished. He felt himself destructing and freezing while his heart soared and ripped itself apart. He swore he was flying while being drowned six feet under at the same time.

As someone who spent his entire life on music, Yang Jungwon has heard many sounds. Various melodies and tunes, but none of them were like yours. He’s been walking around tone-deaf for the past few years because it was like he forgot the way your laugh sounded and the way it made him feel like he could do anything.

It was like you immediately regretted it - laughing with him in the room, and maybe his emotions were written all over his face because Jungwon was losing you all over again when you disclose your emotions off once again from him. Then he’s all but greeted with a cold face - an effect of the mess he caused.

He remembers the time where you were his to call, and now, you couldn’t even stand to look at him - or be in the same room as him. He remembers the time where you would look at him and the way your eyes would light up, and now, he looks at your eyes for a fraction of a second and they’re dead. Once vibrant and easy to read - now empty and desolate. Nobody is home. They’re emotionless for him.

Your eyes only tell lies now.

You’ll never be like the way you used to be again.

To think that he ruined it. That he ruined a smile that ran so deep and had so much meaning. A smile that was always for him. A soul that had so much love and kindness for him. He shattered that. That was because of him.

He remembers the time where receiving ‘I love you’s from you were everyday like routines to you, and he compares it with the flash irritation that would cross your face and the petty tone of anger he would get from you every time he tried talking to you.

You’ve changed.

He doesn’t know what those two years have done to you.

What he’s done to you.

Maybe he really messed it up. Maybe he should run and leave and never see you again so he would stop hurting you and fucking you up over and over again. Maybe he should let you move on and let you be happy with someone else. Maybe he should just stop hoping because the gods above know that they don’t trust him with you alone.

It was killing him.

Jungwon couldn’t do any of that.

Getting to see you every day - it was already much of a blessing compared to the two years in the shithole he went through without you, waking up to feel nothing but empty - if it’s not endlessly torturing and tormenting himself for putting you through what he had to.

But couldn’t Jungwon be a little selfish? Just this once? Couldn’t he ask for a little bit more?

If Jungwon could admit, he never wanted much, nor has he asked for much either. To say the truth, he doesn’t care about ninety percent of his life: fuck his gods be damned ‘career’, fuck air and water and happiness and money.

Yang Jungwon was someone that had no interest in the world. He never really got to care about anything. But you. He met you. You were his first. You were all he cared about. You were all that really mattered.

And that was his world.

You were his world.

It’s been two years since he lost you - since he let you go for good, and that was worse than dying. Each moment was as if it was meant to come back at him and break his soul - or whatever’s left of it. All Yang Jungwon gives a damn about is you.

He was damn well still in love with you, and he was never getting you back.

He’s lost you.

And the separating distance between the both of you proves it better than anything.

[ now playing ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ hold me while you wait by lewis capaldi ]

↻ … ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ

THE TWISTING POINT

Jungwon wasn’t in a good mood today.

It was most likely because of work, so you didn’t want to question or pressure him into dwelling into it any further. You stayed smiling, knowing that whenever you were down, Jungwon knew exactly what to do. He needed sunshine.

You hear glass shatter, and loud clanging accompanied with it. You sprang upwards, racing to Jungwon’s aid to check yourself if he was hurt.

As you stared at the mess created, and the person who seemingly intentionally created the mess, you only stood by the doorway.

You knew him, he wasn’t the type to let his anger consume and get the best of him, nor was he the type to physically express his anger. Especially around you. Jungwon loved the idea of you seeing him as a laid-back unique oddball, and you’ve rarely ever seen him irritated or angry. You’ve never seen him like this, however.

You remained silent; your gaze downcast. Whatever happened in the studio today must have been seriously rough enough to affect him into a state like this.

The room is too silent. “Won?” He loves being called that name; he’s told you. It gets him erupting with happiness in no time, but why isn’t it working now?

Why does Jungwon’s eyes look so empty?

“Can you leave?” he asks you when you try to help clean up the broken shards of glass, finally uttering a word after the first time you’ve seen him today.

“I don’t need you here right now.”

Jungwon sees the way you freeze. The way confusion flashes over your face. The way your hopeful and gentle eyes crack by a fraction.

Jungwon sees it all.

You purse your lip in hesitation, worried, but you follow his request with a nod nonetheless as you quietly slip out of the room. I’m always here for you if you need me.

Jungwon feels nothing but emptiness.

“Jungwon, you’ve missed two meals.”

He’s stuck in his music room. Again. Your lips pull into a forming frown at his state, placing the plate of food that you’ve organized for him at a table nearest to you.

He only gives you a glance before his attention is back at his music, “I’m kind of busy here,” he blandly reminds you the obvious, and you feel yourself mentally deflate, a bit.

A pause. You sucked in a breath. “I know, but you shouldn’t skip meals, okay? Take some rests,” you keep your voice gentle, hopeful.

He barely gives a grunt in reply.

Why didn’t you see that he didn’t want you anymore then?

You swallow, trying in another attempt, “Um, do you need any help in -” Jungwon swivels his chair abruptly, turning completely at you. It’s the first time you see him look at you in a while, “No,” the look in his eyes is something you’d never forget, “I’m fine, Y/N.” And when he turns his back on you, you feel a jab in the gut.

Ah.

You get the message.

You weren’t wanted around.

“Okay, I’ll uhh … I’ll …” you don’t finish your sentence, merely signaling that you were going to leave, but well aware that Jungwon was already back facing his screen. You don’t think he notices. You don’t think he ever notices anything at all.

No response. Not even a glance your way.

You felt so lonely.

Jungwon was going out again, as he’s all done for the past week.

Maybe you were overthinking all of this, but you felt as if he was doing whatever it took to avoid you. To avoid looking at you. To avoid talking to you. To avoid spending time with you. Of course, it was all in your head.

He would never hurt you like that, Jungwon was just busy. He was just going through things. He had it rough, you should be considerate.

It was just you alone most of the time, and you started to wonder if he was doing fine. If he needed you, at all.

“Jungwon?”

He turns to you, his body almost out of the door. “Are you okay?” you gently ask him.

He blinks. “I’m fine,” he replies after a pause.

You wanted to help him, whatever he was going through. You wanted to go through it with him together — you wanted to be there for him. “You don’t seem fine,” you try to start, “Jungwon, I’m here for you, you can talk to me if you—”

An exasperated sound of displeasure cuts you off, like a tether piecing everything together that snaps. “Can’t you do anything else other than bother me?” he waves you off, slamming the door in visible distress. He leaves you like that, and he doesn’t have to say anything else to make the wound hurt all the more.

The words left unsaid were enough.

He doesn’t come back the next day.

You wished he’d have told you how he loved you before he left, even if he didn’t mean it.

The air was cold. You know that it was not because of the weather.

Your mind wanders.

Sometimes you consider the fact that there could be someone else.

You wonder where everything started to change, and somedays, the thoughts get heavy and immensely difficult for you to carry. Sometimes they hurt too much to think about. You can’t help but wonder where your love lacked for him, in where you gave him everything. Even if it costed more than you could afford, it was worth it. But was it not for him? Was it not anymore?

It’s hard to fight what was fated.

But you would’ve still ruined yourself to fix him.

Even if there was another person, you think, you just wished he told you - so you would stop foolishly hoping and trying to convince yourself that this was all a sick phase of his that would eventually pass. So, you would stop foolishly assuming that there was ‘together’ and ‘forever’ for the both of you. You wouldn’t insist on it anymore, if that’s what made him happy. Watching him torture himself like that and choosing not to say anything to you was more painful than anything else.

You knew you were not the one in his heart.

This was all going to pass, right?

Jungwon, talk to me.

Jungwon can make it better.

He always has. You could never remember a time where he didn’t come to swoop in and save your day.

Was this the timing in where you realize that things were permanently going to change?

A simple month changes you a lot.

You believed, but you were slowly losing the light.

You gave so many signs.

So many warning signs.

He walked past every single one of them.

You couldn’t be the only one fighting for something that was already gone. Something that was thrown away and given up on. Because you have been, for as long as you can, and you don’t know if you can still continue to allow yourself to put yourself through it - because you don’t know if you can take it. Even if it was just one last time.

But still, you were willing to offer him anything he wanted the moment he needed it. You were ready to run to his side even if it killed you. Waste my time, waste it all.

The painful fake smiles, and pretending if everything was perfectly fine, as if you were okay, and the desperate pair of eyes that he always seemed to ignore.

You don’t know when it would stop.

You could only wish he would stay a bit longer to savor before he was going to make it hurt for you.

You felt the fatigue, then.

It’ll get better soon.

THE BREAKING POINT

It was all about him.

You don’t know if you could take this any longer.

“Jungwon?” you called out to him - through the empty house, “I’m tired.” Faintly.

You were washing the dishes after immediately arriving home from your part-time job. No time for giving yourself a rest, or for catching up on the upcoming exam the next day. It was eleven o’clock at night. You heard the door slam, and you knew Jungwon was home.

He could mope around and throw things around. He was entitled to treat you harshly because he was going through a rough time. He could do absolutely nothing. That was how everything worked.

But you couldn’t. You couldn’t cry. You couldn’t pause and rest. You weren’t entitled to feel angry or irritated because you weren’t going through whatever he was going through. You had to take care of him, and you had to endure getting treated that way our you could leave and walk through the door.

The shuffling of footsteps stops. You don’t move. You leave the faucet water running, eyes staring distantly - somewhere. But you don’t look over at him. You know that the courage that you’ve spent months trying to build up would come crashing down the moment you do.

There is no noise, only the running of the water. You know he’s listening.

“I can’t do it anymore,” you bat an eye, and your shoulders ease up a little. There is a certain stillness in the air.

“I feel like I’m just wasting my life in this relationship,” you’ve thought about this. You’ve tried to shrug the feeling off, but you wanted to know if you wanted to fight for him too. “I’m always looking stupid. I’m always left behind,” Isn’t it exhausting for you too, Jungwon?

Nothing. Silence. No response.

He wasn’t pushing you.

He wasn’t begging you to stay, like he always did.

He wasn’t going to even just try to change your mind.

He’s letting you go.

That infuriates you further, and you hate that he’s making you feel like you’re being too unreasonable without having to say anything. You hate the words he’s saying to you without even him having to open his mouth. Silence is all you’ve been receiving, hasn’t it? It’s always turning his back. It’s always the cold shoulder, whatever he had to say - he wouldn’t say it. It’s always been that way. Itwas always you that had to adjust.

You hated this.

You hated this so much.

It was him leaving you alone to your degrading thoughts that would break you more than he ever can, “It’s all about you. It’s all just about your sufferings, isn’t it? It’s all just yours!”

Why wasn’t he stopping you?

Why wasn’t he trying to fix this?

You wanted him to explain himself and assure you that everything was going to be okay. You wanted to work this out. Good God, you did. More than anything. But what happened to the day when you missed the most important exams for him just because he was too in his head to take care of himself? Where was he? What was he doing? Where was he when you were called to the school’s office because you were nearly falling off school? Where was he when you cried countlessly from overwhelming stress because of that?

Where was he when you were pacing back and forth at four in the morning without a wink of sleep, waiting for him to come back home and wondering to the heavens what the hell had happened to him? Where was he when you felt so isolated and alone? Where was he when your parents turned your back on you for you giving up everything for a boy who already seemed to have given up on you? Where was he to fight for you? Where was he to look you in the eye and give you a reason to keep fighting - to stay?

Jungwon was going through shit. That was something you understood. Something you wished he never went through, something you know he doesn’t deserve. And you were there for him. Every step of the way. But that didn’t mean that you had it all easy, either - did it? Didn’t he know? Or did he just not care?

You wanted to work this out. But … did he?

Soft, too soft. You could barely hear. “So desperate,” it was murmured. A pause, a shift in movement, and he was gone.

He was gone. He walked away. Like it meant nothing to him.

It stays, lingering. But he leaves.

You can’t believe him.

So monotone.

So emotionless.

Like it doesn’t mean anything.

He breaks you.

You crack open.

He doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t fight for you. He doesn’t feel anything for you. He doesn’t find a reason to stay.

He finds a reason to leave.

That was it. And you weren’t even sure if he said it. Maybe it was a flicker of your imagination. Maybe you were going insane, was what it was. Did he leave?

He couldn’t have.

It was the end.

End.

The end of the both of you.

After that end, there was … nothing.

It was the end?

Your weight leans against the counter table in support, breathing heavily. Your heartbeat racing, your mind processing. A minute passes by, and you still stand frozen.

No. The stillness was too much to handle, you needed Jungwon, even if the only words he was ever going to say to you would hurt. You stumbled, rushing after the door as you tried calling after him. You didn’t want him to go. You couldn’t let him, you won’t give up on him. You needed him there. You were tired, and you needed Jungwon.

“Jungwon.” Where was he off to the moment you finally told him how you were feeling? Was it a mistake? Should you have stayed quiet instead?

“I didn’t mean what I said, come back and we’ll talk this out,” you called after him. You would take it all back.

He was gone.

You turned, and you turned, and you hoped. Nothing. Pitch black. Darkness.

“Jungwon?” you were crying now, crumbling a little. “Jungwon, I’m sorry, please come back, please.” you begged. And you kept calling him, until even the gods above could hear you. But where was he? No, he was going to come back for you. He was.

He was going to explain that he was sorry and that he never meant to hurt you. He was going to pop up right next to you like he always used it. He was going to smile at you with a cheeky grin and make fun of how you fell for his sick joke. He was going to give you a reason to stay and you were going to be okay.

“I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry,” you shouted after him, numbly trying to follow his footsteps that weren’t there. Footsteps that were erased. The footsteps of someone who promised he’d never leave your side. It was pathetic. Your desperation was pathetic.

Where did he go? Which way did he go? Please show up. Please. Please.

You shivered at the cold. Why was it raining so hard? You could barely see a thing. It was too dark. Not a single light in sight. You didn’t even realize it was raining. But it didn’t matter. You wouldn’t go home until Jungwon was back. And safe. Everything will be okay.

Moments pass and you don’t know if it took hours. Jungwon wasn’t there and you were losing him the way you were losing yourself. “Please,” your voice came out a whisper as your legs gave up on you, falling into your knees, “come back to me,” your body shakes, and that was the end.

All you were left with was the memories.

The both of you were nothing but memories now.

Ended because of happenstance.

He was still gone the next day.

And the next.

And the next after the next.

And the week after.

And the month after.

And after that.

You waited.

He promised.

You believed.

Ah.

You felt it, then.

The light you held onto exhaled and took its last breath.

Expired.

When things are expired - when things pass its due date, no matter how much big of a waste it is, or how much you were looking forward for it; you can only throw it away.

Because your relationship wasn’t the only thing gone and lost to disappear that day. It wasn’t only him - or it wasn’t the one thing you cared most about. It was you. You came along with it. You; a simple crumpled worn-out paper thrown away. A rough draft. Scrapped and forgotten.

He wasn’t coming back.

… ᵉⁿᵈ ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ ↺

[ now playing ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ skin by sabrina carpenter ]

PRESENT TIME, THE FOLLOWING DAY

The group was chatting with each other as usual. You were with Ningning and Seoyeon, catching up with the latest most random topics while you were making it a point to ignore Jungwon’s longing stare. Until Jake Sim takes a glance his way and points out of nowhere, “What happened to your arm?”

He immediately replies, “Nothing.”

When you sneak a glance over at Jungwon’s arm, he catches you and straight away tucks his arm away from your side’s view as casually as possible. Why did he have bandages? Your brows furrowed at him, skeptically surveying him.

What was he hiding this time?

It was in the middle of individual study period when Ningning queries out of nowhere, “Y/N, Is Jungwon trying to win you back?”

A few glances your way at the sudden uplifting noise through the quiet room.

You almost choke. You wish you did. “What?” Loudly whispering, you snap your head over her direction, eyes blazing down at her incredulously.

“He isn’t?” Seoyeon pipes in, questioning incredulously, all the more surprised than you. The both of them were never going to let her newfound discovery of exes that were quote “fated back together” end quote. You stare blankly at the both of them, unamused.

She shrugs innocently. “He looks like it,” she answers her own query and peeks over his way. Explaining, she heaves a casual exhale, “He keeps looking over at you every five seconds with those starry hopeful eyes as if you’d change your mind.”

Your face hardens at the mention of it. You hadn’t told what happened between you and Jungwon to anyone. Once both Seoyeon and Ningning had asked for the details of what happened, you simply brushed it off, not wanting to talk about it. They had assumed something went wrong.

Whatever Seoyeon had in mind to be out of a romantic film - this wasn’t the case. You had no idea what he was up to, but it was most probably something that would put up some entertainment to aid his boredom before he fleets away again.

She playfully nudged you with the edge of her elbow, “So, what made you dump him?”

She laughed. Loud. She was talking quite too casually that you speculated Jungwon could hear the conversation. His head was bowed, supposedly reading. You couldn’t read his facial features. You don’t want to.

“Poor dude, he looks like he’s had it rough.” Of course, everyone would assume it was Jungwon who was dumped. That it was him who was hurting. That it was him who got the mistreatment. You were the bad guy. In the end it’s your fault.

A chill runs down your spine. You dumped him? You almost laugh aloud in sarcasm, but it comes out as a snort. Waving her off teasingly, you motion the both of them to shoo away, “Shove off.”

Seoyeon gives a toothy beam before scribbling something down her notebook, Ningning peeks over to read it and giggles. You barely catch a glimpse of it.

‘Where there is anger, there is always pain underneath.’

LATER, AT THE LIBRARY

Another day. That meant another meeting with both Jungwon and Seoyeon in the library. After long hours, the group meeting was finished. All there was left to do was to submit the chapter’s draft for corrections to the professor; it had been decided already that Seoyeon and Jungwon were to do it.

You were leisurely taking your time packing up your stuff when Seoyeon hurriedly scurries out on her way to exit the library. “Hey, Jungwon, I’m really busy today, so I can’t accompany you to pass the papers. I just realized I have soccer practice,” she forms her lips into a pout, faking a thought. It occurs to you then that Seoyeon doesn’t have varsity.

Your eyes narrow at where this was going. “What about ask Y/N to do it? She has nothing to do anyway!” she winks, lightheartedly hitting Jungwon’s arm. He was taken aback, looking confused and somewhat lost himself, but having no choice left other than nodding, he agrees. “Uh . . . sure.”

Seoyeon turns your way and wiggles her eyebrows suggestively at you as soon as Jungwon had himself distracted with the papers in the meantime, giving you a thumbs up as if to say ‘you can do this!’ before slipping out of the room - faster before you could protest.

You scowled darkly, clenching down your jaw. If looks could kill. That girl.

On the other hand, Jungwon continues to arrange the pile of papers with a shuffle before quietly handing them to you, he then started on packing up his things. It was suffocating. Would leaving the room make it seem like you lost this nonexistent battle between the both of you?

He cuts you out of your trance of thoughts, “You were there that day at the tower, weren’t you?” he asks you out of the blue. He doesn’t even look your way as he stuffs a few books in his bag, and he doesn’t have to give context for you to know what he was referring to. not a look of uncertainty was evident in his eyes, “I know you were.”

Anger starts to boil inside. You have to remind yourself that this is what he wanted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you casually dismissed.

He inwardly huffs out a breath. “Was it tough for you?” he changes the topic, and you swear it was only a matter of time before he gives you the biggest whiplash.

You were raging with endless anger and fury, yet you keep your face was void of any emotions – standing in front of him as his form blocked your path, stressing you even further. You gripped the strap of your backpack tightly, “Move out of my way, Jungwon.”

“Answer me, first.” he pleads with you. “Was it tough for you, then?”

He doesn’t budge and stubbornly remains rooted to his spot.

You grit your teeth, ripping apart your poorly concealed anger bit by bit. Jungwon didn’t care. He wanted you to feel emotion. Any emotion. Even if it was blinding rage. To scream at him and punch the living lights out of him. It was better than receiving your blank emotionless stare all the time. He couldn’t take it.

He was definitely testing your patience carelessly. Was it tough for you? You laughed humorlessly. A stab to his gut. A knife filled with poison. “I don’t know what you want, but let’s be mature people here. You do whatever hell you’ve been doing the last two years, and I’ll continue do the same. Okay?” you spoke, your tone hostile. You take the folder placed beside him before leaving him there, disinterested.

It wasn’t as simple for you as it has been for him to simply walk the relationship off down the drain.

Not when he promised the world.

Not when you believed him.

Not when he was standing there right in front of you acting as if he didn’t know anything about the shit you had to go through without him. As if he was just innocent. As if he had nothing to do with it. As if he cared. And especially not when he was the one who put you there and left in the first place.

This is what had become of the both of you. Jungwon and you. Worse than strangers, haunted by what’s left of something that was long gone.

All he had to do then was apologize. Actually, he just had to come back, and you would do the apologizing for him. You were always the one who gave in, in the end, anyway.

You would’ve accepted him.

You would’ve even begged for him.

The things you would have done.

None of this would’ve happened.

But.

None of that would work now.

None of that mattered.

It was all too late.

The both of you were just so different now.

LATER

Riki was confusing, truly.

“Didn’t you make fun of me two years ago about how much of a dumbass I was?” you rolled your eyes incredulously at Riki picking at you to how rude you were being to Jungwon, “You hated him, what’s with the change of attitude?” you snort.

Riki shifts his weight, fixing the strap of his bag, “You were a dumbass,” he agrees, pulling a face at you, “and I still hate that guy,” he continues, his expression turning sour at the thought of him, but pauses.

“But you were happy,” he looks over at you deliberately.

A happy dumbass. You could cringe, that was the old you. The desperate old you. Long gone.

You were most definitely not having it, your facial expression hard. “Did you have a head trauma or something? A fever? Are you forgetting the past two years?” you press the back of your hand to his forehead, checking his temperature and warmth for dramatic effect.

He pushes your hand away, “I’m just saying,” he starts, talking to you as if you were a child, “he left, but he’s back, isn’t he?” he throws his hands around for emphasis.

Then he shrugs, like he doesn’t know any better either, “He’s gotta be back for a reason.”

You don’t care. You don’t care what reason he’s back, or whatever he wants from you. “He can’t just come and go as he pleases, idiot,” you forcefully shrug it off, grumbling. “that jerk made his decision that day. He made his bed and now he has to lie in it.”

And Riki gives up on how stubborn you are, “You really do hold grudges, don’t you?” he ruffles your hair up, amused.

Strangling a sound, you kick the back of his leg, but he dodges.

Oops, your eyes slightly widen, anticipating a fall. You lose your balance, nearly tripping - but luckily, Riki notices within a half of a second and catches you before your face plants flat on the ground, hoisting you back to his chest by the grip on your waist.

You were going to laugh at your mistake, your face already breaking into a smile - but your eyes catch someone a few feet away.

You blink. Your smile slowly starts to drop at the sight of him.

Of course, it had to be Yang Jungwon.

For a split second, your shock doesn’t allow your eyes to leave his.

Riki snaps you out of it, releasing you from his grasp and guides you to his side as he slings his arm around your shoulder - like he always does. You’re sure Riki knew well enough and had an idea of how Jungwon looked like. He recognized him straight from the café, and you never questioned how he knew. How were you going to walk out of this one?

Riki doesn’t look at you in confirmation - you have no idea what shit he’s going to pull, but you’re sure as hell it isn’t going to be good.

He nods once in acknowledgement over at Jungwon, but Jungwon pays no mind and choses to ignore him as his eyes flicker onto the arm around you.

Riki notices it.

You don’t know what to do.

“Hey, I’m Riki,” he starts - and for some crazy reason, he sounds as if he was gloating, “who are you?” he throws back casually. Too casually. You would be irritated to talk to him, if you were in his place. The dislike in Jungwon’s features is evident enough. You don’t know what Riki was playing, but he extends his hand out for Jungwon to bro-shake, whatever that could even signify.

A long pause. Jungwon barely glances at it before his attention is back on you, ignoring him beside you as a whole.

“Why are you with him?” he tries to casually question you - as if he was trying to create small talk - his voice is calm - but Jungwon’s eyes never lie. He could never hide anything from it. You knew that look, and you didn’t like it. It made your blood boil. The guts of this self-centered arrogant asshole.

Riki answers in your stead, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to answer. He laughs, throwing his head back a bit, “Oh, don’t mind us,” he curtly replies, “my girl over here ‘s just really clumsy.”

You forgot how much of on asshole Nishimura Riki really is.

Riki effortlessly sighs, openheartedly shrugging as if to say ‘what-can-you-do?’. It was friendly, but you understood the underlying meaning. He was testing him. Picking at him. Provoking him. You wanted to facepalm. Provoking was the only thing he was ever good at, why did you even bother? What was this, some fighting-for-the-alpha-spot werewolf shit?

Nishimura Riki, you asshole!

Jungwon understands the message. A muscle up on his clenched cheek twitches, his eyes slightly narrow. Was he threatened already? You were in a state of disbelief, Riki was barely even doing anything. Seriously. He never changes.

“Why are you with him?” he asks you again, this time his voice comes out somewhat strained in the end. The old Jungwon would’ve probably started a fight right then and there, lacking any sort of composure. Jungwon changed, hasn’t he?

But you have, too.

Riki peeks at you, “Babe? Do you know him?” Confused. Curious. Innocent.

You had to give it to him. Riki was an amazing actor, he could’ve fooled you if you didn’t know any better yourself.

You merely glance at Jungwon, barely a pause before you answer, “No.”

No hesitation in your tone. A ‘no’ as if he was simply a stranger standing before you. Nothing. You observe how your answer hits Jungwon. How the simple word destructs him. You could only watch. Everything was different now. This is what you wanted, wasn’t it?

But where was the sense of satisfaction?

You tug at Riki’s arm, “Let’s go, you promised me to bring me home today.”

You leave Jungwon like that. You leave him with the uncomfortable feeling that was bubbling up. Riki is surprised. And confused. You don’t know if he’s still continuing the act when he affectionately waves Jungwon goodbye before immediately following after you.

Yang Jungwon strikes again.

You whacked Riki at the back of his head the moment you were as far from the gods-be-damned-scene and as far from Jungwon as possible, “Idiot!” you hissed, “What the hell was that?”

He rubs the back of his neck soothingly, glaring at you. “You know, just a little ‘thank you’ would suffice.”

“’Thank you’, my ass! I told you to not pull any stupid shit!” You threaten to hit him again, vexed at the stunt he pulled. The situation was only going to get worse from there and you couldn’t take back anything at this point. You retreated your arm, groaning in horror of what’s to come.

“The moment called for it!” was his only excuse.

You scowled at him, as if your eyes could annihilate him at the spot.

You got Jungwon, you had to admit. A few more of these blows and he would leave your sights. This was a bad idea, but your mind didn’t seem to pay any care.

Hurt him.

Right then and there, your ego allows Riki to participate in whatever crazy-sick game this was. You just needed Jungwon far away.

Riki smirks at you and flashes you a winning smile. He knows you’ve agreed to his idea without having to say anything else. You had no other option, either way.

“You won’t regret this, ___. It’ll be fun!” he singsongs, draping his arm around you.

It’ll be fun, you echoed.

You’ve been lying to yourself for two years, what’s a couple days more to you?

THE NEXT DAY

Jungwon finds you asleep, leaning your head on the desk with your cheek pressed up against the table.

And Nishimura Riki was by your side, reading gleefully. Mostly watching you sleep. A fucking weirdo, Jungwon inwardly comments. His stomach turns at the sight. His mood has already dried.

He stands there for what seems like a torture of infinity before Riki sees him there. He just grins at him. Jungwon would want to do nothing more but throttle him and that shit-eating look off his face.

“Here for the thesis paper?” was all he asks, he starts collecting himself and his things, preparing to leave, thankfully, Jungwon praises.

But when Riki decides to act like the biggest fucker to piss him off all the more when he leans in to gently tuck back the hair covering your face as as you sleep, Jungwon defensively takes a step forward to you by instinct, ready with a handful of swear words.

Riki notices it, and only press his index finger on his lips, indicating to keep his voice down. Jungwon’s jaw slightly ticks as he stays in place - not risking your sleep.

He pats Jungwon’s shoulder on his way out, but he stops by the door. He motions him closer, as if he were to tell him something hugely important. Jungwon presses his lips into a thin line, walking up to him and trying to keep it as civil as possible.

He holds up a finger, as if to gesture ‘and-one-more-thing’, “Oh, and tell her to keep the hoodie she’s wearing, will you?”

Jungwon raises both brows in question, and instantly regrets it.

Riki further explains himself, "She likes stealing them from me. God knows she has a whole rack of them on her closet.” He shrugs, a growing smirk on his face. “But eh, I like it on her, it suits her better.”

That little shit.

He was about to give him a phony nod and thumbs up to let the whole agitating conversation over with when Riki presses his luck even further, “She’s pretty.”

God. Jungwon’s patience was running thin, his jaw flexes.

“Oh, and tell her -”

Jungwon nearly slams the door on his face.

He wondered what you saw in that guy.

Walking back with his hands stuffed in his pockets - something he does when he was definitely pissed off, he yanks a chair, face displaying irritation at its finest when he arrives back at your table. He doesn’t bother to spare you a glance your way, he knows you too well.

“I know you’re awake,” he says out of nowhere, his voice tight. “Stop pretending.”

It takes several moments before you start faking a yawn. You could easily fool anyone, but sadly for you, he knows you too well. His glance is blank as you outstretch your arms as if you had just woke up, you greet him as if you hadn’t expected to see him there, “Oh . . hey.”

Jungwon had already looked sour from his encounter with Riki, his pissed off gaze averts away from yours. A muscle from his jaw ticks as he huffs, “Your boyfriend left.”

You nod, blinking as if you were slowly trying to register everything. Jungwon wanted to ask you a flood of questions: what was he doing here? Were you already awake when he was being a creep and staring at you while you were ‘asleep’? Why are you wearing his hoodie -? “Okay.”

That aggravates him even more, and his tone turns curt and strained. “I’m going to work on the thesis. You do whatever.” he dismisses you, heaving a short breath.

He stalks off, but not before grimacing at your outfit up and down - more than fumingly horrified, spitting out through gritted teeth, “And take off that hoodie. It looks horrible on you.”

THE WEEK AFTER

You wake up in Monday morning with aching pins and needles, not being able to move an inch of your body. Your eyelids were too heavy to keep open, weighing tons of your effort.

Of all days, you were sick.

Lord.

Releasing a cough, your hand reaches for your ringing phone. Riki, the contact label name displayed. You try to clear your throat as you answer the call, in effort to not sound as sick as possible. “Hello?” your groggy and hoarse voice could be depicted from miles away by a total stranger. Much less Nishimura Riki.

“Princess?” His voice answers through the call, perceptibly worried, “what’s wrong? You sound . . . off today.” You could tell he was squinting as he said this.

“Uh. . .” you sniffed, trying to come up of a lie, “just watched a sad film. Cried a lot.”

Riki hums, giving no humor in his voice. “Mhm. And that’s why you’re late four hours to class?”

Your stomach lurches. You were what? You had classes today, and you didn’t even remember. Were you missing on anything important in university today? Shit.

Racing for the most reasonable excuse, “I wanted to . . . enjoy a day off?” Bad liar. You were nothing but a bad liar. You were too exhausted to create a better and more creative lie.

Riki, being way too observant on things he shouldn’t be, clearly wasn’t buying it. He clicks his tongue. “I’m coming over. Don’t go anywhere. Stay in bed,” he orders you shortly before ending the call. He doesn’t scold you or lecture you, and he leaves it at that.

You moan at the surge of pain once again located in your stomach, you had no plans of leaving the bed even if you wanted to anyway, given your current state.

Riki texts you that he was outside around less than ten minutes later.

If you could complain, you’d rather have Riki come in your room to help you up. Like he always did. You found him not doing so rather odd, as he would always make the weirdest reasons to come drop by your house. Moving the slightest inch was hard as it already was.

It takes you what seems like hours for you to get out of bed, and even more for you to bag your bag and head outside. You were ready to grumble about how efficient and less painful this would’ve been if Riki had come to help you until more than one figure greets you outside your yard.

Riki and . . . hands stuffed to his pockets, head bowed - you know that side profile -Yang Jungwon?

Both stayed at opposite ends, standing in front of their cars, awaiting for you with the hardest glares sent the other’s way. What was happening? Jungwon was most likely the reason Riki wasn’t able to go inside your house to pick you up. That was the only factor that made sense - the rest was something you couldn’t connect the dots of.

Both their cars parked out of your house, and you could feel the tension slicing you in half the moment you step foot outside. These two could never stay in the same room, sticking around to wait for you was strictly meant for you.

Jungwon is the first to break the glaring match as soon as he sees you, being the first to approach you while gently holding you up.

“Love, are you okay? Let me bring you to the hospital - come on,” he pleads with you, gesturing towards his car.

“This isn’t the time to joke about something like this in her state,” Riki forces a fake smile through his gritted teeth, irritated as he sneaks his arm around your waist, holding you up himself all the better with a single hand, “just so you know.”

Jungwon’s gaze darkens, “It isn’t about fighting for who gets her, just so you know,” he mimics, “I don’t trust her with you, you dipshit.”

Riki scoffs to himself, shifting his weight as he continues to press you tightly against him, not budging an inch of you to Jungwon, “And look who came to talk.”

Jungwon opens his mouth, his eyes ruthlessly set on Riki’s before you try and weakly cut in from your lack of energy. However, your weak knees give up on you and you almost stumble down, not before both Jungwon and Riki reaches out their hand to grab your arm within half a second. Riki half-yells your name, all the more uneasy and concerned than you were.

“Y/N? Love? Are you okay?” Jungwon’s hostile tone towards Riki not seconds ago immediately dissipates, conveying his tone of worry and panic at your weak state.

“I’ll drive you to the hospital,” Jungwon additionally suggests, trying to have you lean his weight on him for you to stand property, and in that way he could easily carry you back to his car.

“Hell no,” Riki growls, in the other hand.

You notice Jungwon’s eyes darken at the corner of your eye, “And who exactly are you to her to begin with-?”

“Her boyfriend, nice to meet you, you dipshit,” Riki retorts.

Jungwon lets out a low noise, pissed off at a topic that was seemingly sensitive to him. “Over my dead body would you ever be her boyfriend.”

He rolls his eyes in disinterest. “Still going through the stages of grief? Is this the denial stage?” he taunts, clicking his tongue with a tsk.

“Bo,” Jungwon calls you - candidly ignoring Riki’s shitty statements, but his sharp eyes never leave Riki’s, “let’s get this over with and tell us who would you want to -”

This was getting too prolonged, you were so close to vomiting again. You definitely did not want to vomit here of all places. “Riki,” you called out faintly, interrupting Jungwon, “please take me to the hospital.”

All parts of your body ached painfully, and you were too miserably ill to deal with this situation. You imagine Jungwon’s expression crumbling, deflating.

Riki straightens, visibly surprised, but he doesn’t hesitate. Not before giving Jungwon a final look, he carries you with you gently, making sure you were watching your step as the both of you left the defeated Jungwon without another word.

You were too weak to look back at Jungwon – he helplessly stares after the sight of his girl - his girl - being taken away from him when she needed help the most.

Again.

You spend three days in the hospital for a diagnosed viral infection.

Thankfully but not surprisingly, Riki stayed by your side through every minute, only leaving for a shower, buying take-out, and for getting you new packs of clothes. It was Ningning and Seoyeon who came over to take care of you during Riki’s leave.

He sticked around from the moment you were submitted, to the insertion of the IV, through your countless trips to the bathroom to puke and for him to hold your hair back, and through your dischargement.

The both of you were on your way to the car to load your things. Riki had all of his hands filled. “Oh yeah, I almost forgot, thanks for the wanton noodles,” you mention immediately as soon as you remembered, “How d’you know they were my favorite?” You don’t recall ever brining it up to Riki.

Instead of bursting up his signature winning smirk, Riki furrows his brows at you, “Wanton noodles? What wanton noodles?”

You perked up a brow, “The one you left by the door earlier when you were paying the discharge bills?”

Riki had nothing. He blinks at you as if you had been hallucinating. “Why would I leave food by the door?” he shakes his head, “Doll, what in the hell are you talking about?”

“The wanton noodles that you –“ You stop mid-sentence, freezing. Realization dawns on you then. The note, you recall as you piece things back together.

Stop skipping meals. I got you your favorite. I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me.

Yang Jungwon.

There was no name from who it was from, you had simply assumed it was from Riki. This wasn’t your first time realizing that Jungwon had never dropped by, you had simply figured he didn’t care. Your stomach sinks, ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me’. The double implications.

Riki waves his hand in front of your face, “Earth to princess? Hello?”

Ah. Right. You blink, shaking your head – you meet his eyes with a smile, “Nothing. I just thought I remembered something.”

WEEKS LATER

Jungwon was a lot quieter than usual ever since you’d been discharged.

Since . . . the night he and Riki were there. You slightly wince at the memory.

You almost managed to successfully spend a thesis discussion with him without having to say much - to your great pleasure - until he just had to ruin it for you. He was filling in his part for the thesis paper while you were scanning through the pages of the book you were reading, skipping to the ending.

“Hey,” he starts, humor laced in his voice. “D’you still read the endings of books like you used to? I remember –“

Your head snaps up. You don’t smile. You don’t flush red in embarrassment. You don’t laugh like the way he’d expected you to. The way you always did. You stared harshly down to his eyes. It wasn’t the heart-fluttering kind - nor was it the passionate or the fierce or the loving kind of stare. No, it was a heart-piercing glare - so full of pure hatred, the kind that had his breath hitching up his throat in the worst way possible and his heart sinking into your stomach.

“Don’t.”

Ah.

No double meanings. Nothing else. The essence couldn’t be taken as a mere mistakable, conveyed with just one simple word that held the heaviest weight, yet it was enough for him to understand. He doesn't try to catch himself or his smile as it fades - along with the antagonizing agony that accompanied it.

The light in your eyes has gone.

They were so dark.

It doesn’t shine the way it used to.

He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. He struggles. It takes him two more tries. Two more times of you opening and closing his mouth for him to finally unknot his tongue and drag the words to the surface.

“You have a …” he hesitates to say it, “boyfriend?”

It was so close. A few seconds until you would leave, and he just could wait. Stuffing your university belongings back into your bag, you exhaled, your lips tightening into a hard line. “What is it to you?”

A second or two passes, “Oh,” he replies, “I didn’t know, so -”

“What difference does it make?” you rhetorically question him, your patience running thin, “if you didn’t know or if you did?” You were being absurd - you knew that, but you wanted anything but the idea of having to talk about that subject with him and act like it was fine.

Being snappy at him wasn’t the greatest idea, but you know Jungwon was trying to get at somewhere. You would do whatever it took to defy him. That quiets him down, only forcing a painful nod.

You needed to leave. You couldn’t stay away from him, especially whenever he was near. God knows only a few words from Jungwon would be all it would take for him to manipulate you back into his strings.

Painful silence.

Until, “Does he make you happy?”

You find yourself freezing.

A sick feeling in your stomach.

Does he make you happy?

Happy.

Why was he asking the question like he meant it?

Your eyes flicker his way, and there is no hint of humor or taunting mock in his face. Was he serious? The man who broke you to pieces and disregarded you stood before you and asked if another man was making you happy, as if he cared. As if he ever did.

You don’t say anything.

You don’t have anything to say.

Jungwon knows that.

You try to breathe.

One.

Two.

Three.

You walk away, and he lets you. You walk away because walking away was the only thing you’ve ever done. Because walking away was the only thing you could ever do around him. Because you can’t risk another goodbye from him.

You were done gnawing back at the past.

[ now playing ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ spring day by bts ]

↻ … ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ

AFTER THE BREAK-UP

And the both of you became back to being nothing.

Just like that.

You told him your secrets, and you let him in. All the good, all the bad. You trusted him and brought down your defenses. You let him know your weird thoughts or funny inside jokes and the deep insecurities.

But he never got to know the little things, you realize the moment it’s over. The little things that infuriated you. The little things that made you laugh. Or the little things that would always put you on a better mood - the little bits and pieces of you.

You barely got to know him at all.

Was that the reason?

Was the fact of loving him just as plainly as that - nothing more, and nothing less - the root of it all?

Or was it just the big things that held the both of you together, and the small things that caused you to fall apart?

You don’t believe it’s over.

Because it’s not.

You’ve been stuck inside the house for longer than you could count. You’ve memorized the number of tiles on the floor and seen every miniscule crack on the wall. You know how many steps it takes to walk from here to the door.

And you know just how many steps Jungwon took to leave.

Your eyes remained fixated on the door, waiting at the dining table for him to come home.

Like every other day.

He was still finding his way back home, you reminded yourself.

Busy. He’s busy.

Tick-tock.

He’s on his way.

He'll come back. He always does. He promised.

You form hundreds of thousands of excuses for him.

But the door doesn’t swing open to reveal Jungwon in all form and glory beaming down at you, apologizing, telling you that it was a mistake, telling you that he didn’t mean it. Every day is the same.

But nothing.

Nothing.

Riki knows it’s one of your days.

He reaches for your hand to grab and the fact that you have no response alone proves his assumption even further.

He doesn’t mind, Riki decides to walk you home.

You have those days where you go completely silent. Worse than ever. So quiet that he could never guess what you’re thinking or if you’d ever come back from it. Eyes empty as if there was no one home. He doesn’t know how he could help you specifically, how he could make you snap out of it.

The only thing he can do is talk. Talk and talk and talk and talk. He talks for hours about anything on the top of his head, and Riki himself is surprised he could somehow manage to not run out of topics to tell you about.

Even if you don’t respond. Not even a flicker of recognition to any of his comments or jokes.

Riki never knows what you’re thinking.

But this time, that day, he knows it’s about Jungwon.

Someone asked you about Jungwon today. How he was doing, where he is, and what happened to him. As hard as Riki would shield you away from situations such as these, it wasn’t hard enough.

Riki was so close to making you smile the other day. He was finally doing it.

And then he’s back again to square one.

After his efforts of trying to get your attention by the food stalls the both of you passed by, Riki starts to go quiet.

There is no noise - nothing between the two of yoou. Only the rustling of leaves. The cool breeze of air. The sound of footsteps on cobblestone. Cars driving by. Indistinct chatters.

“Why are you still holding on?” quietly. So quietly, but you easily catch on Riki’s question. Then your hands slightly tremble.

You don’t answer him, you’re afraid of saying too much. You’re afraid.

He never said goodbye.

That was your reason.

He never said goodbye.

Jungwon always bids you goodbye, you’d explain to Riki if you could.

What makes this time any different, right?

He won’t leave without saying goodbye. He wouldn’t. Only you could understand.

He never said goodbye.

A part of you still believed that meant he was coming back.

When Riki tries dropping by like any other day - a sneaky reason to check on you, from the start of early morning, he sees you there.

You spend the whole day stuck in the kitchen.

Riki knows what day it was without having to ask.

By the evening, you bring out the cake that you’ve been preparing for and set it down the table, in front of an empty chair. The chair you never let anyone sit on. It’s still belonged to someone else.

Riki knows who it’s for.

Your eyes are distant, as if they were caught up in a dream. Light. You were there - physically, but you were far away. Far, far away. Riki started to wonder if this was just how you were. He wondered if there was ever a time where you were really alive.

He wondered the extent to how much this guy did to break you.

Your eyes looked so empty.

But you were still holding on, weren’t you? You’ve never responded to him, but he knew. Riki made no noise, but he clenches his hands into fists. You don’t acknowledge him standing there.

You set the candles down the cake with the lighter.

You only stare at the cake, expectantly. Waiting. Waiting for someone to blow the candles off. Waiting to sing the cheerful ‘happy birthday’ song and make a wish. But it wasn’t just anyone.

He doesn’t attempt to do anything - or say anything. But he stands near close to your proximity. Watching over. Silently. He doesn’t leave you that day.

You take a seat next to the empty chair, simply and patiently letting time pass as your eyes affixed themselves with the dancing fire.

Until the candles blow out themselves hours later from the cold air.

That night, Riki also knew who it was for when he heard your uncontrolled crying and broken whimpers pass from your room for the first time.

There was a period wherein you stopped leaving the house entirely. And Riki stopped pushing you to.

Everything reminds you of him.

The house has never felt so big.

Alone.

You miss the way he smells.

The overbearing feelings starts to compress, and you feel it expanding within your chest. It gets hard to breathe. You feel helpless.

Jungwon won’t like it if he sees you like this, wouldn’t he?

You keep reminding yourself.

He might come in any second, and you wanted to be at your best.

You promised yourself you wouldn’t cry.

You won’t cry.

You’d make it up to him.

You don’t want it to end.

He’ll come back.

You don’t know how many months it has been.

That’s a lie. You do.

You find one of the notes he wrote for you in an old shoe box.

It reminds you that what you had was real, that what you had wasn’t just a figment of your imagination. It wasn’t a dream.

You picked up the first letter, your fingers tracing through his handwriting.

It was painful. A shard of glass piercing through your skin.

To my one and only girl,

You couldn’t breathe.

It was merely the first line of the long letter, and you couldn’t breathe.

This time, you don’t pretend to forget that you aren’t Jungwon’s anymore. You don’t pretend that this was all a phase. A nightmare. A joke.

This time, you don’t pretend to wait at the living room for him to come back home, swinging the door open with a grin and greeting you from a long day like he used to. Not anymore. Even if you had so much to tell him. So much news to show off to him. So much news to be happy for. To celebrate. But you weren’t.

This time, you almost suffocate.

You torture yourself even more this time. You open the letter again and it rips your heart out. It stabs you and leaves you bleeding. You read the last line. Sealed with a promise. A broken promise that meant nothing now.

I’ll make you the happiest girl, I promise. I love you :)

You could imagine his cheeky smile as he wrote this, sealing the promise - among with every other one that he’s made. Every single one that he didn’t claim responsibility for.

Liar.

He was a liar.

He was reckless and a liar.

He broke you to the point where you couldn’t even manage to bring yourself to say his name.

You wish you were brave enough.

What a fool you were.

A dumb, useless fool.

“Kant’s metaphysics?” Riki answers, lying on the edge of your bed. He lounges carelessly with a review paper clutched on his left hand.

You rest a hand on your hip, pacing around your room. “No, but you’re somewhat close. It’s categorical imperative.” You corrected, recalling your philosophy lesson by memory through mentally singing a tune to yourself.

The philosophy oral examination was this coming Thursday that next week. It was Saturday. Riki complained, saying he needed help and tutoring, and you, other than staying cooped up at home debating your life choices and burying yourself in academics, there wasn’t really anything else you did.

He squints his eyes in confusion, “But how does that relate to the second follow up question after that?” you pause, staring hard at the desk beside you to remember the answer, you take minutes - but nothing.

You run a hand through your hair, visibly frustrated and stressed. You had all the more topics to go through. Hell, you had to go through the whole book and you couldn’t get past the second lesson yet.

Releasing an exhale, you shut your eyes tightly. Shit. Shit.

Jungwon always knew what to do. He knew how to calm you down and rile you up and make you laugh right after like he was born with it. He’d drop everything at the sight of you overthinking and over-stressing school work, embracing you and telling you that you didn’t have to worry. That he was there. He’d let you cry it out, vent out your frustration and stay by your side through it all, running a hand through your hair soothingly to comfort you.

He knew exactly how to take care of you.

You need him.

You needed him.

Just for this moment.

How much longer?

Biting down your lower lip forcefully, you chant the words over and over again.

He’s not coming back.

You know he’s not coming back.

You know.

You’re back to pacing across your room, back and fourth. ‘”I don’t know, I really -” you cut yourself off, irritated. At this point, you’re ready to erupt from the heavy weight of his absence. At this point, you want to drop to the floor and stop time to give yourself a breath.

Riki has sat up at this point, silently watching you. He’s probably either thinking that you were worrying and stressing over the amount of workload given to you like the usual. Or, does he know that academics isn’t what you were worrying about at all at that moment?

You try to level your breathing.

Come back.

Jungwon, please.

Come back to me.

To: won 😚🙄

[03:46am] you: hi i’m graduating this wednesday. i’d really like it if you could drop by.

error. message undelivered. try again?

[03:50am] you: hey did you know my graduation is nearing?? haha you should come :)

error. message undelivered. try again?

[05:18am] you: jungwon

[05:18am] you: are you there?

[05:19am] you: you’re gone and i really need you.

message sent.

do you want to delete this message?

message successfully deleted.

Contact user: [ENTER]

Contact: yang jungwon

by pressing [Confirm] you are allowing the name changes to be saved.

changes saved.

“The sun’s so clear out. Lighten up, princess ~” a voice calls you out of your thoughts and you realize you were trapped in a dream.

Identifying reality with dreams seemed entirely difficult to you. There was something fiction in the way reality was going to you.

Reality was as crazy as dreams were.

“Your moping is bad for my skin,” Riki comments lightheartedly, scrunching up his nose.

It’s been a week or so since he came along. Since he bumped into you and started to grow interest towards you. You don’t ask him, and you don’t really care. Nothing that every happens around you matters to you as much anymore.

You only blink in regard to him. That was more than a sign of acknowledging his presence that he was used to.

Riki is used to this. He doesn’t mid this type of behavior, nor did he expect anything else. He self-proclaimed himself as your guardian angel – two days after he’d met you – who’d look after you “since you lack the ability to look after yourself” end quote. Which was true. You couldn’t look after yourself. Especially due to the past circumstances that he pieced together himself.

You were probably someone’s ex-girlfriend.

To him, Y/N was a detached-from-reality schoolmate of his who was definitely more than what meets the eye.

You were someone he wanted to get to know, until you stopped becoming that person, one day.

Until you became someone he wanted to protect.

Sliding himself into the seat next to yours, he pouts at you. “Y’know . . . I think it’s time for you to . . move on,” he struggles finding the right word for it. You know it takes a lot in him to try and be gentle, as he probably would’ve been teasing you with a bunch of insults.

Your throat encloses, and you feel like burning up.

Moving on meant accepting that he was gone. Gone from your life. Accepting a future without him, and that wasn’t something you were ever going to be ready to do.

He was long gone.

Jungwon was long gone.

The magic you once felt with him wasn’t there anymore.

He wasn’t there anymore.

And neither were you.

Waiting for someone is painful.

Letting go from someone is painful, too.

But not knowing whether to wait for someone or let him go?

It hurts more than anything.

You were out inside the bathroom for the first time in hours since you’ve left your seat from blankly staring at your phone.

It was all pure coincidence when Nishimura Rik stumbles upon the open phone screen that you’ve been torturing yourself endlessly with.

It was all pure coincidence.

And coincidence just happened to align with his curiosity.

you: S.O.S. [7 hours ago]

you: come back [7 hours ago]

[Read]

Riki doesn’t have to read the contact name to see who it was.

It must be Riki’s professional job; being the only one around able to spot where you are when you suddenly disappear from the face of the earth.

“Princess?” Riki finally finds you along the benches, alone. He figures it weird, he’s not exactly sure what you were doing there exactly.

Until he sees your face. Your tear-stained cheeks.

Ah.

“It hurts.” Out of nowhere. He has never prepared himself for this. Your voice cracks a bit, “Riki, it hurts.” You plead with him as if he power to take it all away. Small. Helpless. That was what you sounded like.

He offers his open arms to you, and you bury yourself in them. He lifts you up from the darkness, even if it was just by a centimeter.

“I’m in so much pain, can you stop it?” you tell him in a managed whisper, your voice hoarse.

He’s afraid anything he’d say would only break you even further. He only hugs you tighter.

Fuck, why did he give too many shits about you? This wasn’t the least like him at all. What in the world have you managed to do to Nishimura Riki? He stares at you, not being able to do anything.

“Why does it hurt so much?” a small vulnerable child whimpering in pain – pain they were forced to believe was their fault. That was how you sounded.

He doesn’t know what to say. He’s frozen, in fact. “Riki I want to –“ you pause, trying to start again, “I’m tired,” you struggle with your words, your eyes closed shut, “Please make it stop.”

His eyes flicker.

Please make it stop.

Riki isn’t much of a person who really cared about anyone else’s business. He never poked his nose around because he never bothered enough to. Everyone was black and white to him.

You were a quite peculiar one to him, though. It drove him crazy, what was so good about you? You were clearly dead hungover your past ex. Barely talked. Barely did anything, at all.

But he saw the most beautiful and vibrant colors when he looked at you in the whole life that he’s been walking around colorblind to any other.

He was just being pulled down deeper.

For the first time, all Riki wanted from someone was just their happiness. Purely. Passionately. Their happiness for his happiness. He just wanted you . . .

He just wanted you.

Nishimura Riki is done for.

If this was what he thinks it is, he’s done for. Because Riki was ready to be anyone you wanted him to be.

You gave be something I’ve never had, he wants to tell you. And I have nothing special to give you - but I will give you everything I have.

He doesn’t break promises. Especially if it’s you.

Riki will mend what was broken.

Whatever it takes.

One step at a time.

He was getting himself into the biggest mistake in his life, God, he sure as hell knew that. But Riki was never going to regret what was to come.

He was going to make it stop. All of it.

… ᵉⁿᵈ ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ ↺

PART TWO

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wandasbbg · 11 months

Text

The Woman Nextdoor - mommy!wanda x fem neighbor!reader

Wanda was new to the neighborhood. After a long and painful divorce from Vision, what she and her boys needed was a fresh start. That start came in the shape of four green walls, a white front door, and a fenced in backyard. What she didn’t know was that her new start would also come in the shape of you.

warnings: 18+ content, sexual themes and language, age gap, blood.

6.6k words, kinda slow burn, it's worth it tho!

this is my first fic, hope u like it :)

Sunday Night, two days after moving in.

“Alright boys, I know you’re probably nervous for tomorrow, starting at a new school and all, but just know that Mommy is so proud of you both for being so brave throughout this whole thing. I know we are all going to be so happy here, and I know you’re going to love your new school. I can already tell that you’re both going to have so many friends by the end of this week. It’s going to be good, okay?”

Billy and Tommy looked at each other, and then at their mother. The brothers knew how stressed their mom was, and they both wanted to be strong for her, especially now that their Dad was gone. Despite their fears, they smiled courageously for their mother and nodded in agreement with her sentiments.

“Okay, good. If either of you need anything tonight you know I’m just down the hall.”

Wanda put the boys to bed, kissed them goodnight, and went downstairs. She walked into her unfurnished and undecorated kitchen in search of some wine. She found some, thankfully, and sat down on their new couch in their new living room, in this new town, with everything new. Her worries about the boys and school tomorrow washed away somewhat after her second class. Wanda knew she should stop herself after two, remembering what more than 3 glasses did to her.

It had been 6 months since Wanda had been touched by another, despite her separation from Vision only being 2 months ago. For some reason Wanda couldn’t name, she poured herself another glass. The boys were asleep and she desperately needed some relief from the copious amounts of stress clinging to her back and shoulders. The red from her wine began to dance its way into her cheeks, leaving her face very warm. That flushed feeling was growing, and it was quickly traveling down her tired body. Wanda placed her glass down on her new coffee table, and unbuttoned her jeans. Her un-manicured nails slid down into her underwear. She felt herself, her own wetness, and a grunted moan slipped out. She threw her other hand over her mouth…and she kept going. Thinking of nothing but that familiar feeling, one she thought she may have lost, came crashing back to her. It soon sent her tumbling over the edge, as she pumped herself full of her own two fingers, using her thumb to play with her clit, breathing heavily into her hand.

Wanda dumped the last sips of her glass in the sink and went to her new bedroom. She laid in bed, drunk, exhausted, and alone.

Monday Morning, three days after moving in.

“Remember, if at any point something happens you just go and find Ms. Maddie. She’ll help you, and she can call me in an emergency.”

Wanda waved her boys off as they were carried away on the school bus. As she stood there, and the bus disappeared from sight, something caught her eye on the other side of the street. You replaced the image of the bus, as you stood outside and washed your car. Wanda observed your bikini top and jean shorts, looking like Miss Americana. She stood mesmerized as you bent over to dip your sponge deep in the bucket; she watched you flip your hair as you brought the sponge back up to the hood of the red convertible, in what she assumed was your driveway. All those feelings from last night came flooding back and before she knew what she was doing, she was calling out to you.

“Hi!”

You kept washing, headphones blaring as you scrubbed your beloved car, oblivious to the woman trying to get your attention. Wanda figured you must have not heard her, so she waved her hand and tried again.

“Hello! I’m Wanda, your new neighbor!”

You saw something moving frantically from the corner of your eye, which scared the shit out of you, you being a jumpy person since you were a kid. You quickly turn toward the motion while letting out a tiny yelp. Wanda had made her way over to you at this point, standing a few feet from you and your car.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you.”

You took your headphones out to be greeted with the kindest smile you’d ever seen. Quickly collecting your thoughts, you threw your sponge in the bucket at your feet and look back at this new woman.

“Don’t worry about it, I startle easily. Uhm…My name is y/n. What did you say your name was again?” You asked, wanting to know more about this new, insanely beautiful character who stood before you.

“Wanda,” she breathed out with a certain softness, “me and my boys moved in a few days ago right across the street.”

This woman was absolutely, breathtakingly, painfully beautiful. Her auburn hair was tied up in a loose bun behind her head—effortless and stunning. Her shirt highlighted her breasts so nicely, you had to look, just for a second. She wore jeans that hugged her in all the right places, and low-top sneakers like someone your age would wear. She was gorgeous, and she was talking to you, which meant you needed to pull it together and talk back.

“Oh! So that’s why I don’t recognize you. I definitely would remember someone like you.”

Wanda smirked at your confidence. She admired you already, and couldn’t help but think how beautiful you were. She also couldn’t help but think of all the things she wanted to do to/with you.

“Thank you y/n, you’re very sweet.”

You blushed at the subtle praise, already realizing what deep shit you were in if this woman lived literally across the street from you. It dawned on you that she could be visible from just the opening of your curtain, and thus, you could be visible to her, too.

Wanda knew she had a chance here and now, so, with nothing else to lose, she took it.

“Well, we’re still trying to get situated and all moved in. It’s just me and the boys, so, if you have some free time, I’d really appreciate some help with the last of the boxes.”

Without hesitation, and in fear of her changing her mind or something equally as horrible, you answered her inquiry with embarrassing eagerness.

“Of course! I mean, yeah. Yes. Just let me know when and I’l be there. So long as I don’t have work, of course, and before I leave to go back to college, but that’s not for another three weeks, which you wouldn’t know–I’m rambling. Sorry. My answer is yes, Wanda, I’ll help you.”

Wanda reveled in your obvious flustered state from her proposal. She felt good knowing how eager you were to help her—to please her. It sent her reeling. She needed someone in her life like you, even just for a little bit. She craved any kind of love. You were shockingly beautiful and Wanda decided that not only did she need you, but that she just had to have you, no matter what it took. She would make you hers. Lucky for her, after only one interaction you wanted that too. You wanted very much to be hers.

“Perfect. Let me have your phone, sweetheart, so I can put in my number.”

You practically threw your phone at her, your hands still being wet from the sponge. You watched her hands work at the task at hand, typing her digits in, and marveled at her. Her hands, her arms, the way a certain vein popped out as she moved her thumb. You were finding it all incredibly sexy, and all she was doing was using a goddamn phone. You were fucked. She finished and handed your phone back to you, smiling seductively. As both of you held each end of your phone, she looked you up and down, unashamedly.

“And don’t be afraid to wear this little get up whenever you stop by.”

Before you could answer, Wanda spun on her heels and walked back to her new home, hips swaying the whole way. She swiftly made her way to her own front door. She had gotten

herself quite worked up after the whole interaction and needed to relieve some tension in the privacy of her own home. She left you there, absolutely dumbfounded, just as she had intended.

Wednesday Morning, five days after moving in.

Wanda woke up soaking wet after yet another dream of you beneath her, screaming out her name. This was becoming a recurring issue, one that Wanda needed to resolve soon. She didn’t have time to help herself out, as the clock told her it was time to wake up the boys for school. Thankfully, they were loving it so far, and Wanda could not have been more relieved. They had even asked to set up a play-date with a new friend they had made. Wanda’s heart filled with pride when she considered the resilience of Billy and Tommy. They were her life. Without them, she’d be nothing. She was so lucky to be their mother. This morning, however, she was wishing she could just have a little more time to herself before beginning her day. But alas, mothering is a full time gig. She got the boys up and ready, driving them to school and dropping them off with a kiss and hug goodbye. When she drove back, she realized that her mind had once again wandered to you. She wondered what you were doing, who you were with, what you were wearing… You were like a drug she swore she would only try once, but of course, became addicted. She hoped you were outside doing something when she got back, or your curtains were open and you were in your room. She wanted to see you, even if you didn’t see her. Luckily, she didn’t need to worry about that. You were outside laying on your lawn with a blanket and a notebook, scribbling in it with focus and beauty.

Wanda parked her car and immediately made her way over to you. Without a word, she sat down next to you. You looked at her, then back to your notebook to keep writing. You were trying to play it cool in front of the woman—nonchalant if you will. After a beat, she spoke.

“Tell me what you’re writing.”

“And why should I do that?” you teased back.

“Because I want you to, and you don’t want to make me sad.” She looked at you with some kind of evil puppy dog eyed look, and you were helpless.

“No, I guess I don’t.”

Your notebook contained shitty poetry and prose. Half-thoughts, diary entries, random notes. You had been working on a poem about a woman who looked coincidentally like Wanda, naturally.

“But” you continued “I can’t. It’s embarrassing.”

“Y/n”, she countered, “I promise it’s not. Please?”

“Why do you want to see so bad anyways?” you questioned, genuinely curious.

“Because I want to know more about you.”

With that, you melted. You would be embarrassed, but maybe she would find it endearing. You considered your options, and realized that you really only had one move here.

“Fine.”

She reached out to take the notebook from your hands, but you quickly swiped it behind your back.

“On one condition. You tell me something about yourself afterwards.”

Wanda playfully rolled her eyes, but agreed. You handed over the notebook, and she flipped to the most recent page. She read the beginning lines of a poem about a woman, with hair like fire and the magic of a saint. She was shocked. You were writing about her? Really? A smile graced over lips that she could not hide. She knew you’d never admit it was about her, but she also knew that it in fact was, meaning that you found her alluring. Opting to save you the embarrassment, she didn’t let you know directly that she knew, even though she was sure you assumed.

“This is beautiful, y/n, you have a real gift. This woman you're describing sounds beautiful.”

“She is.” You said quietly, looking down at the notebook she placed back in your lap.

“Okay then, I guess it’s my turn.”

You smiled up at her, forgetting your embarrassment with this opportunity to know more about your new neighbor.

“Anything specific you want to know?” she asked you.

“Nope. Tell me anything you want.”

Wanda loved your response. She loved that you were willing to take anything she gave you, clearly just happy to hear anything about her at all.

“Alright, dear. Let me think.”

Wanda looked at the sky, waiting for something interesting to dawn at her. You watched her red hair fall gently across her shoulders as her head tilted up. You saw her eyelashes flicker slightly as a bird flew above the two of you. You wished you could reach out and touch her—feel her warmth.

“When I was your age, I fell in love with a woman.”

Your jaw hit the floor with a loud thud. You had not expected her to say anything like that, yet, you were so unbelievably happy that she did.

“You’re going to catch flies, y/n” Wanda giggled through her words, amused at your surprise.

You closed your mouth quickly and cleared your throat.

“I like girls too, you know. Well, now you know. So what happened? To her, I mean.”

“I met my ex-husband. My whole life I was told I needed a husband, that I would die without one. So, Vision came around and offered me a stability that she couldn’t. I loved her more, so much more, but I chose him. I got my boys from it, so I’ll never regret the decision. I just wish things could have been different. No, I wish I had been different.”

“Wow, Wanda. I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry you went through that.”

Wanda could see your genuine concern for her in the furrow of your brow, and the twisting of your ring. It warmed her. She hadn’t felt that kind of care in a long time, it was refreshing. It also made her want you that much more.

“Thank you, honey. But don’t worry, that was a very long time ago. I’m a different person now.”

“Still, you must have missed her sometimes. Or atleast the touch of a woman. I know I would have.’

Your eyes widened at your own boldness. Why did you just say that? You barely know this woman. Before you could offer an apology, you realized she was laughing. You smiled.

“Yes, I suppose I did. I do.” Wanda smiled at you, and continued. “Especially lately now that it’s just me. I do miss the touch of a woman.” Wanda made fierce eye contact with you as she said this, taking a brief moment to look at your lips. She saw your cheeks get redder and redder, blushing at her innuendo. She smiled with you, enjoying the youthful, playful side you brought out of her. Both of you stared at each other. You suddenly noticed her leg touching yours, your pinkies brushing against one another. You looked back up at her, already looking at you. She was smiling, so damn beautifully. You instinctively leaned in. You couldn’t help yourself. She followed your actions, putting her hand over yours. Then…your phone rang.

You scrambled to pick it up and answer. As you spoke to your friend, calling over a stupid reason, Wanda took your notebook, ripped out a page, and scribbled a note with your pen. While you spoke and gesticulated with some annoyance, Wanda leaned to you and left a light kiss on your cheek. Your words stopped coming out, even though your mouth still moved. You watched Wanda wink at you, then get up and walk back over to her house, without looking

back. You told your friend you had to go. The note Wanda left flapped in the wind. Your heart leapt at the sight, and you quickly read it.

Thank you y/n. You made my day. I’ll see you soon.

Yours,

Wanda

Wanda watched you read her note through her window. She saw you clutch it your chest, and fall on your back, still holding it tightly. She giggled like a goddamn teenager. She really liked you, and she really wanted you. She wanted you to be hers.

Friday Afternoon, one week after moving in.

With two weeks left before you packed up your stuff and headed back to school, you were busy as a bee. This didn’t stop you, as you hoped it would, from thinking of Wanda. You’d developed a habit of checking your phone every five minutes, hoping she would text you and take you up on your offer to help out. You saw the piles of boxes in her garage, just yesterday, still unmoved. You figured it was only a matter of time. You refrained from making too many plans this week, in case she would call or text and you were all unavailable. You’d never forgive yourself. Thus, you stuck to your front porch, or your front lawn, which clearly had worked out for you.

You continued to do pre-class readings, sort out plane tickets, last minute roommate communications, etc.. Though it was your second year, you were still nervous to go back. Though, not even your back to school nerves kept your gaze focused on your task at hand. You were currently back out on your porch, watching the sun begin to set, as Wanda’s car rounded the corner and pulled into her driveway. The boys flew out of the car and into their backyard, immediately beginning to play with a soccer ball. They were happy to be done with their first week of school, no doubt. Wanda gracefully stepped out of her car and gathered her things. She glanced over toward your house, expecting to find you on the porch. When she was met with your gaze, obviously staring at her before she had looked at you, she beamed. She had been watching you through her window, without your knowledge, and the sight of you overjoyed her.

Some might find that behavior strange, but she loved it. At night, she’d open her curtains to find yours already opened. She enjoyed watching you as you danced around your room, talked to your friends (she tried to push her jealousy aside during those nights), cleaning up, or, her favorite, when you would touch yourself. She couldn’t wait to replace your hand with your own. There was also a part of Wanda that was still afraid of rejection. Vision had treated her like she was nothing—like she was completely useless. Those words stubbornly remained in her mind, but your beauty compelled her. She shut her car door and waved to you.

“Hey y/n! Mind helping me out with those boxes tonight? I want to have the weekend to relax.”

You couldn’t hide your smile if your life depended on it. You had been waiting for what felt like forever, (two days) and, though unlikely that Wanda would feel about you the way you felt about her, you had to try something tonight. If it didn't work out, you reasoned, you’d be gone soon enough and could forget about the whole thing.

“Yeah! Right now? Or later?” you asked.

“Now. It’s already 4 and this might take a while.”

You were up and across the street in record time. Your books were left on the porch steps, along with any dignity you had left.

“Thank you so much y/n, I really appreciate this” she said as she touched your arm with affection and gratitude. Chills spread from her point of contact over your whole body, and all you could do was nod and say “It’s really no problem, Wanda.”

“Good,” she said, “then let's get started.”

What you soon found out was that by “let’s” Wanda meant “you”. At first she started moving some things here and there, but it quickly became you who did all the heavy lifting and Wanda who praised you and asked if you needed anything. You, of course, were happy to comply.

“Wow, y/n. You’re stronger than I thought. Do you work out?”

You were flattered at the compliment, it sent a certain warmth through you.

“Uhm, yeah, sometimes. Not too much I guess. I’ve played sports all my life, so it probably comes from there.”

“Hmm” she hummed in acknowledgment “well you sure know how to put those hands to work.”

The box you were holding fell onto the ground with a startle. You were sure she didn’t mean it like that, but you couldn’t help but take it that way. Especially not after so many nights of imagining her saying something oh, so similar. You dropped down to pick up the box, proclaiming apologies for your clumsiness.

“No, leave it there. I’ve overworked you. The sun has gone down, and there are only a few more things. I can manage the rest tomorrow.”

“But what about your weekend of relaxation?” you asked playfully.

“Your wellbeing is much more important to me, y/n.”

You swallowed at that sentiment, and gave in.

“Well, alright then, if you’re sure.”

“I am. Now come inside with me, I’ll make you some dinner.”

“Oh, no Wanda you don’t have to do that.”

“I want to. And, it’s the least I can do. I really have to insist.”

You were learning that there was really no point in arguing with Wanda, she seemed like a woman who knew what she wanted. However, even the woman’s intimidating demeanor could not rid of your playful nature.

“It depends. How good a cook are you?”

She fake gawked at your question, prompting a giggle from her. You swore you’d spend the rest of your summer trying to hear the sound of her laugh as much as possible.

“I guess you’ll just have to come inside and have a taste.”

Right away, Wanda regained the upper-hand. You liked the teasing and flirting that seemed to be happening.

“I guess I will then” you offered, running out of sly things to say.

The boys walked into the garage, asking their mother when dinner would be ready.

“Half-hour boys. Oh, and y/n will be joining us.”

“Cool! Y/n do you play soccer?” Tommy eagerly asked you.

“Yeah, actually, I do. Wanna play while your Mom cooks dinner?”

“Can we Mom?” They asked in unison.

“Really? You’re not tired of it yet? You’ve been playing all afternoon! And y/n is tired, I’ve been working her very hard out here.” Wanda looked at you and smiled, as if you and her had some kind of secret communication going.

“Please mom! We’re not tired!”

Wanda sighed and looked at you. “You’re sure?”

“I’d be happy to.”

Wanda watched you run off with her boys, and she felt something odd. She felt the need to care for you, to protect you. She had only had a few interactions with you, but she had a feeling this whole situation would be more involved than she had planned. You were so sweet, so innocent, so helpful. Wanda was saddened at the thought of you being with anyone else, or you leaving her to go to school. She knew that how these two weeks would go was up to her, if you wanted her like she wanted you. Tonight she was going to find out.

She was lost in her thoughts as she cooked dinner on auto-pilot, making plans for the two of you. She stirred the pot of sauce and imagined you in her bed, trying to be quiet lest to wake up Billy and Tommy. Before she went to call all of you in, she stood behind the sliding glass-door and watched the game the three of you were playing. She imagined a family, a loving home, but quickly pushed that feeling deep down. Even she knew it was too soon for that. She couldn’t handle another loss in that regard, and so she opened the door and called for dinner.

It was, of course, delicious. The three of you ate like animals, asking for seconds within minutes. Wanda twirled her pasta around her fork, watching you talk with her boys.

“Wanda?”

“Hmm?” she said, snapping back to reality.

“I said this is really good, thank you.”

“Well I’m glad you believe in my cooking now, y/n. You should know that I never disappoint.”

The boys continued talking to one another, but you had gone silent. There was no way Wanda wasn’t flirting with you. You didn’t want to ignore her signs and potentially lose the opportunity to be with this amazing woman, but you also didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. As a woman who likes other women, you were constantly aware of your female relationships and the potential of a female friend taking your affection as flirting, or predatory in some way. This held you back in the love department, but you weren’t stupid. This was flirting, and now that you were more comfortable around Wanda and her boys, you gained back your confidence.

“Well that’s good to know. I’ll have to test you on that some time.”

Wanda smirked. You were definitely reciprocating her advances. The boys finished their dinner and Wanda told them it was time for bed.

“But Mom! We wanna play with y/n! Plus our bedtime isn’t for another 20 minutes!”

“Boys, I’ve had a very long day. Can you please just listen to your Mommy?”

Wanda noticed your breath hitch at her use of the word. She smiled as she felt her own panties growing wetter.

Remembering their promise to each other to not make their mom more stressed, the boys sighed in defeat and headed upstairs, their mom following.

You stood there awkwardly, waiting for Wanda to return downstairs. You knew you shouldn’t leave, and you didn’t want to either. You wanted her to make a move so bad it hurt. You were confident, and you could flirt, but when it came to actual sex you needed to be led. Lucky for you, Wanda had a similar craving.

Wanda went to her bedroom and took off her clothes to reveal the lingerie set she had been wearing the whole day. She tied a see through robe-like cover around her, the same color black as her set, beautifully highlighting her scarlett locks. She walked down the stairs to you. She descended, and with each step, watched your eyes darken and your jaw drop more and more.

“Y/n…” she said, slowly walking over to where you stood in her kitchen, leaning on the counter.

“Yes Wanda” you said more like a statement and less of an answer to her vocation.

“Would you like to join me upstairs?”

“Yes, please.”

You didn’t mean to say please outloud, but you noticed what it did to Wanda. Her pupils grew and her hands found yours. She turned around and led you back upstairs to her bedroom. She opened the door and guided you toward her bed.

“Have you been thinking about me, y/n?”

“Yes” you truthfully answered.

“Yes, what?”

“I don’t…I don’t know” You pushed out in slight confusion.

“Yes you do, baby.”

All at once it hit you, like a wave of understanding, like some kind of enlightenment.

“...Mommy. Yes, mommy.”

“Now that’s a good girl.” She sat on her knees in front of you on her bed, you sitting with your back against her headboard. She slid her hands beneath your shirt up to your tits and began to lightly massage them. You tipped your head back slightly, pushing your chest deeper into her palm.

“I’ve been thinking about you too.”

A wave of heat struck you in the face. You looked at her, still finding it hard to believe this was happening at all.

“You have?”

“Oh, don’t act so innocent, sweetheart. I know you kept your curtains open on purpose. You wanted Mommy to see you playing with that pretty pussy. Isn’t that right, honey?”

“Yes, Mommy. I…I wanted you to see me.”

“I know, baby. Mommy knows how hard it must have been. Was I ignoring my baby girl?”

“Please, Wanda.”

Wanda rolled your nipple harshly, leaving you a gasping mess.

“That’s not my name, sweet girl.”

“I’m sorry. Mommy, please. Please touch me. I need you.”

“Look at you. So eager. You’ll take what Mommy gives you. Yes?”

“Yes.”

“Good. But baby,” she grabbed your face with both hands so you were looking her in the eye, “if at any point you want to stop, say the word “red”. Alright?”

“Okay.”

“Perfect. Now take your clothes off. Mommy wants to see you.”

You began to strip, dropping your clothes on her floor. Before you began to remove your underwear, Wanda stopped you.

“Wait, honey. Let Mommy do that.”

She stretched your legs apart a little, and ran a finger lightly over your covered cunt. She stopped at the wet spot that, to you, was growing embarrassingly big.

“Oh, poor baby” Wanda cooed and tutted. “I know you need Mommy so bad. I know it’s just so hard. Let me take care of my darling.”

Wanda slowly pulled down your panties, leaving them with the rest of your clothes on her floor. She smiled with pride at how desperate you were, how utterly needy. You were putty in her hands.

“But, what about you? I want to see you too.”

“I know baby, I know. Just let Mommy play with you first, okay? You want to be good for Mommy, don’t you?”

“Yes. Yes I’ll be good.”

This was what you had been waiting for all week. The thought of disappointing Wanda brought tears to your eyes. You wanted her to take over you—to fill your senses so intensely that you could only see, hear, smell, taste, touch, all that was Wanda. You laid there obediently, waiting for Wanda to initiate whatever plans she had for you. To consider those plans in your head made you impossibly wet, just like any other thought you had of Wanda. Your stream of consciousness was interrupted by a light touch to your inner thigh. You looked down at Wanda who was looking at you, watching, and waiting for your reaction.

Wanda traced her finger up to your abdomen, marveling at your muscles tensing under her touch. She continued with both hands up to your chest, over your breasts, and up to your cheeks. Wanda hadn’t kissed you yet. She was waiting for this moment. The moment you were totally willing to submit to her, and then to finally lay her claim on you. You looked into her eyes then down to her lips, then back up at her eyes. She knew you wanted her to kiss you, and she knew you would wait for her to breach the gap. Watching your lip quiver in anticipation sent Wanda over the edge, finally, as she leaned in and connected her lips to yours. A tear fell from each eye down your cheeks, from pure joy. Her pillowy lips landed softly, lovingly on yours. Your hands went up to her cheeks, but hesitated before touching her. She smiled into your kiss and took your hands in her own, placing them on her own face. It confused you, but you didn’t think too much about it as your lips began to dance together. Wanda picked up the pace with a certain hunger, her tongue swiping your bottom lip asking for entrance. Immediately you opened for her, and moaned in neediness. You were still completely naked under her laced body, your pussy throbbing with anticipation and need. Wanda continued to kiss you passionately as you whined beneath her. You needed her. Wanda stopped suddenly. She sat back on her knees and held her hands toward you. You grabbed them and sat up looking at her. She pushed your hair behind your shoulders, gently, taking her time.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, y/n. Do you know that?”

“Thank you.” You didn’t know what to say, so you just turned your head into your shoulder.

She grabbed your chin so you were looking back at her. She kissed you again while pushing you back onto the bed.

“Mommy’s going to taste you now, and I’m going to make you cum over, and over, and over again, until I decide that you’ve had enough. Do you know why, y/n?”

“Why?” You ghosted, no more than a whisper.

“Because I own this pussy. No one touches it but me, and I am going to ruin it for anyone else.”

You moaned. Loudly. You were almost sobbing at this point. You were so deep in your own head that you were barely registering her words. All you could think about were her hands on your thighs, and her words whizzing around you.

Wanda heard your moan and watched in awe. She loved that sound. She needed to hear it again, right away. Wanda slipped a finger into you, watching you bury your face in the pillow. She didn’t move it at first, she only watched you squirm around her hand, trying to gain some friction.

“Patience, detka.” Wanda laughed in a low and evil tone. She began to go in and out, tortuously slow, watching you get worked up as she moved. She knew that after all this time you would be close from just these few movements. She added another finger, and began to pick up the pace, just enough to get your hopes up, before she slowed back down again. It was torture. It was marvelous. You could feel your stomach tightening, and you struggled to believe it. She had done so little, yet, you could feel a need to release building up inside of you.

“Are you close already, baby?”

You hmphed in agreement, not able to open your eyes or mouth.

“Good.” And she stopped. She took out her fingers entirely, and saw the tears begin to pour.

“Please, no, Mommy. Please—I need you inside of me. I need you to touch me. I can’t wait anymore.”

Hearing you beg like that turned something on in Wanda, something primal. While she was getting soaked herself teasing you out, leaving you a begging mess, she needed more.

“Careful what you wish for” is all she said before sliding two fingers back in and pounding with a merciless pace. Her lips connected to your clit while she pumped you full of her fingers. She licked and sucked, adding a third finger when she heard you yelling, “Oh God! Yes! Yes! You feel so good Mommy, you feel so fucking good.”

You whined as Wanda reached her other hand up to play with your tit. She rolled your nipple between her fingers and squeezed as she continued to pump hard and fast.

“I’m gonna—I’m—Wan—Mommy please—please can I cum? Please!”

Wanda took her mouth of you to grant you permission, and good thing because you were already releasing into her mouth the second her lips reattached to your center. You had never cum so hard in your life. Now all you wanted to do was curl up in Wanda's arms and fall asleep. But she wasn’t done. You were incredibly sensitive, but her pace didn’t give. She went harder, almost violently, as she slammed into you. She came up to you and kissed you, stifling your moans. She continued to pump in and out with three fingers, as she moved down to your chest. She bit your collarbone fiercely, waiting for you to whine, to then smooth her tongue over it and ease the pain. You could feel a tiny bit of blood dripping down your tits, and you watched Wanda continue to leave hickeys and love bites, absolutely making sure that everyone knew you were hers. She sucked your nipples and smiled into them, feeling your hand in her hair. She might have cared another time, but not now. She felt your walls closing around her fingers, and could feel your rhythm spasming out of control.

“Go ahead and cum, my love. Cum all over Mommy’s hand.”

You moaned so loud your throat burned and your eyes watered, but you couldn’t help it. Your nails dug into her shoulders, leaving little half moons along her beautiful skin, which you might have cared more about if you weren’t feeling the deepest pleasure of your lifetime thus far. You back arched up and your body twitched violently, before slowly coming down and riding out your second orgasm on her fingers. Your hand reached down to push her fingers out of you, as black mascara tears continued to escape due to your overstimulation.

“All done baby, don’t worry. You were so good for Mommy. I’m so proud of you.”

Wanda removed herself from you and headed for the bathroom, still in her lingerie. She came back with a damp washcloth, which found your thighs and stomach, and then your cheeks. Before she wiped your face, she took in the glorious sight of you.

“You look so beautiful right now. A tear-stained mess, all for me. You took Mommy’s fingers so well, honey.”

Rather unexpectedly, you sat up, and just hugged her. You cried into her shoulder, as she rubbed your back up and down, shushing you gently.

“What is it sweetheart?”

“I don’t know. I’m not upset, I promise. I don’t know” you said in a raspy whisper, your throat very sore.

“I’m right here, it’s okay.”

You nodded, feeling such a deep and loving warmth as she held you. You realized you could stay in her arms forever. So, when Wanda asked you if you wanted to spend the night, it was an immediate and grateful yes. Wanda gave you some of her pajamas, and you wanted to cry again, just from how happy you were. She made you tea, for your throat, which she felt slightly bad about. She was just happy that the walls were thick, and the boys were heavy sleepers. After you had talked a little in her kitchen, Wanda could tell you were extremely tired. She led you by hand up the stairs into her room and shut the door. You got into bed and, as soon as your head hit the pillow, you were asleep. Wanda wrapped her arms around your waist and faced you, watching you breathe in, and out, for what could have been hours. She would have been happy to watch you all night, keeping you safe and warm in her bed with her. She traced a finger around your face, down your nose, over your lips. She kissed your eyelids and your cheeks, finally laying down and letting her own eyelids fall. She could think about you leaving and her own hesitations tomorrow. Tonight, all that mattered was that you were hers, and she had all of you. She realized, as she drifted off, that she could never let you go. What she hoped, and what was true, of course, was that you had already become just as attached, making these next two weeks extremely turbulent yet magical.

That's it! Thanks for reading :) I can continue this if anyone is interested, just reply or comment or whatever if so. I can definitely see this going multi-chapter, y/n's last weeks before leaving, Wanda and y/n dealing with that, etc...

#wanda x reader #mommy!wanda #milf!wanda #wanda maxmoff x y/n #mommy!wanda x y/n #milf!wanda x y/n #wanda maximilf

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tip-top-cloud-surfer · 9 months

Text

The Forgotten Nest (Part 6) - Rooster

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw / Mitchell!OC (Cora)

Word Count: 3.6k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only

Warnings: Past Unplanned Teenage Pregnancy; Angst; Absent Parental Figures; The 'He Didn't Know About the Pregnancy' Trope; Repeating Trauma Cycles; Crying; Character Death (Sorry, Ice); Named Mitchell Daughter OC (Cora) and Named Mitchell-Bradshaw Son (Nickie)

Summary: Nickie finds some direction after Ice's death. Rooster and Cora talk.

A.N. There are references to a previous unplanned teenage pregnancy (between two eighteen-year-olds) in this fic. There won't be any flashback scenes to the pregnancy, but the references are still there, so if that makes you uncomfortable, please do not read.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 7 Part 8 Epilogue

Master List

Nickie stared out at the crashing waves behind the Hard Deck, still dressed in his suit that was just a little small on him. It was the reception after Ice’s funeral and Nickie just wanted to be away from it all. It was over. Ice was gone. And Nickie didn’t want to talk about it with people who didn’t know the first thing about him.

He was tired of it. All of it. He just wanted to go home and let his bed swallow him whole.

Staring down at the metal tin that his Aunt Sarah gave him after the funeral, Nickie ran his thumb over the thin metal. The tin used to hold gum based on the stamped logo—though Nickie admittedly had to Google it—and there was something rattling around in there. There was a letter too, burning a hole in his pocket, but Nickie definitely wasn’t ready to read Ice’s last words to him. Not yet. Not for a while.

“Is that seat taken?” a familiar voice asked, causing Nickie to slowly turn around.

Viper stood behind the bench, dressed in a black suit. Although he retired from the Navy some years ago, Viper still resided in Miramar. He still saw Ice and Maverick at least on a yearly basis. And he still had that same knowing look about him every time that he ran into a new generation of Mitchell mess.

Nickie shook his head and gestured to the seat next to him. Viper walked around and slowly lowered himself onto the wooden bench. Leaning back, he folded his hands in his lap and stared out at the crashing waves, causing Nickie to do the same.

Viper was very much a part of Nickie’s life. He wasn’t in it as much as Ice or even Slider was, but Viper and his wife always had a party around the Fourth of July that Nickie and Cora would attend. And Viper picked up a babysitting shift here or there to make sure that Cora could work or go to school to support her and Nickie when he was still very young. There was no way that Viper would let Duke’s granddaughter get stuck in that position.

“Did you know?” Nickie croaked out, causing Viper to turn to him.

“Did I know what?”

“About . . . Ice,” Nickie clarified, earning a solemn sigh from Viper.

“No, I didn’t. From my understanding, the only people who knew were himself, Sarah, and a few souls here and there.” Viper studied Nickie’s expression for a moment before adding, “He wouldn’t have wanted you to worry.”

“I know,” Nickie whispered out, begrudgingly sniffling as he stared at the ground. Wiping another tear away, Nickie turned back to Viper. “How’s my mom?”

“She’s fine,” Viper assured Nickie, nodding towards the Hard Deck. “Slider’s looking after her.”

“That’s good,” Nickie replied, looking back down at the ground. “She always finds a way to blame herself for things that go wrong. Even when it’s not her fault.” Picking his head up to look out at the waves, Nickie let out a shaky breath. “I’m worried about her.”

“She’s a strong woman, Nickie. And she wouldn’t want you worrying about her.”

“I know, but with everything that’s happened this week . . .” Nickie trailed off, straightening up as he slowly turned back to Viper. For his part, Viper waited patiently for Nickie to ask the question that Viper knew he was going to ask. “Did my grandfather tell you?”

“I always knew,” Viper responded honestly, staring down Nickie for a moment. “You look too damn much like him for me to not know.”

“Like . . . Bradley?” Nickie suggested quietly.

“No,” Viper corrected Nickie, shaking his head. Nickie frowned a bit, looking confused for a moment. “Like his dad. Goose. Who he also looks the spitting image of.”

“Oh.” Nickie stared down at the ground again, gently swaying back and forth. “I guess he had some strong genes then.”

“Don’t worry,” Viper continued, leaning back again. “You got the Mitchell eyes.”

“My eyes are brown,” Nickie pointed out, turning back to Viper with a frown.

“I wasn’t talking about the color. I was talking about the look. The one that instantly makes people nervous because they’re waiting for the next thing you do,” Viper quipped, causing Nickie to pause. “I saw that look in your great-grandfather’s eyes some time ago.”

“You mean a century ago?”

“And there it is,” Viper replied without missing a beat.

The two of them sat in silence for a few moments and when Viper saw the small smile gradually slipping from Nickie’s face, he turned back to face him. Thinking over his words carefully for a moment, Viper wore a somewhat grim expression.

“Have you talked to him yet?”

“Besides telling him to fuck off? No,” Nickie replied bluntly.

“Do you want to?”

“No,” Nickie blurted out without much thought. “He hurt my mom. He hurt my grandfather. Why the hell should I want to be around someone like that?”

“There could be many reasons,” Viper returned, staring out at the waves. “And I have a feeling that all of them have something to do with that look in your eye.”

“What look?”

“Like you’ve got something to prove,” Viper stated, turning back to Nickie. “That’s wasn’t there before.”

“I don’t have anything to prove to him.”

“No, you don’t,” Viper agreed, nodding along. “So, don’t go around doing something stupid that you’ll regret because you feel like you have something to prove.” Viper turned back to Nickie with a more serious expression. “Whatever happens with Bradley, you are who you are. He doesn’t change that. No one changes that. You understand me?”

“Yeah,” Nickie replied quietly, causing Viper to pause for a moment.

“Your grandfather did that. Bradley does that. I don’t want you continuing the cycle.” Viper turned and watched the waves for a moment. “They flew like they were competing with a ghost. Trying to impress someone who’s not around to impress. And where does that lead them?” After a beat of silence, Viper turned back to Nickie. “Nowhere good. Nowhere your mom would want you to be.”

“There’s a lot of places that my mom doesn’t want me to be.”

Viper sat there for a moment, simply staring out at the waves. His expression didn’t give anything away and after a brief silence, Nickie picked his head up and turned back to Viper.

“I’m not shocked, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Viper replied, still staring at the waves.

“Are you going to tell my mom?”

“I think that I’m a little old for a tattletale,” Viper responded calmly, leaning back once more. “And besides, if you’re going down that path, there are going to be far more challenging moments in your path than talking to your mom about it.”

“You don’t think that she’ll freak out?”

“I think that she knows more about you than she lets on,” Viper stated honestly. “Mitchells are not exactly known for their subtly.”

“No, I guess not,” Nickie sighed, rubbing his face. After a moment, he straightened up. “And let me guess, you think I should talk with him, don’t you?”

“I think that you should have any conversation that you feel that you need to have so that you get that look out of your eye. Permanently.”

Nickie sighed, dropping his head until his chin practically rested against his chest. Taking a few shallow breaths, Nickie picked his head up and stared out at the waves.

“So, you think I should talk with him?”

“I didn’t say that,” Viper defended himself.

“But you think that.”

“I didn’t say that,” Viper repeated, causing Nickie to sigh again. Slowly moving to stand up, Viper shot Nickie a look when Nickie moved to offer him a helping hand. “I’m old, Cadet, but not that old.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” Nickie replied with a small smile.

“And Nickie?” Viper asked as he straightened up.

“Yeah?”

“When it comes to flying, it’s best to trust your instincts and not get caught up in your thoughts.” Viper’s face grew more serious for a moment. “But when it comes to relationships, you should take some time. Alright?”

“Yes, sir,” Nickie replied to Viper with a nod.

Viper gave Nickie’s shoulder a meaningful squeeze before turning back for the Hard Deck. Nickie turned back to the ocean, once again alone with his thoughts. Reaching for his pocket, Nickie pulled out the old tin of gum that Ice passed down to him. After a moment of delay, Nickie finally popped the tin open and pushed back the top.

Reaching into the tin with a shaky hand, Nickie pulled out a set of wings. Ice’s wings. The note placed at the bottom of the tin read a simple explanation in Ice’s loopy handwriting:

My first pair of wings. May you get your own one day, kid.

~~~~~

Cora walked slowly around the Hard Deck, greeting people that she knew from long ago that she hadn’t seen in a long time, and hugging and chatting with those people that she missed over the years. She could feel Slider’s concerned glance every five seconds, but Cora held herself poised and together in front of the crowd. In front of her family.

When she was alone in her room at home, she would deal with her emotions then.

Avoiding the group of aviators gathered in the corner, Cora walked over to the window to look out at where Nickie was sitting on the bench. Viper was standing now and appeared to be heading inside, leaving Nickie alone again. Cora thought about going out there, though she knew that Nickie was getting overwhelmed with the day.

Ice was practically Nickie’s idol growing up and now he was gone. Nickie needed time to process it. So, she would give him some space. But he was still her baby and she was still going to keep a close eye on him during this time.

Rooster, from his spot in the corner that Cora was avoiding, stared after Cora as she stood at the window. He followed her gaze and spotted Nickie sitting out on the bench, staring down at his hands. Phoenix, who was sitting beside Rooster, glanced out the window too before turning forward and reaching for her beer.

“Why does Mav’s grandson look like your twin?” Phoenix asked quietly, not looking to cause a scene. “And before you answer, do I need to be drunk to hear this?”

“It’s a long story,” Rooster replied, turning back to look at Cora.

“And the tall guy over by Mav who keeps glaring daggers at you?” Phoenix added on.

“That would be Slider,” Rooster explained, not even having to look over at him. “He used to fly with Mav and Ice and . . . my dad for a bit.”

Phoenix nodded slowly, reaching for her beer again. Taking a slow sip, she turned back to Rooster, who was still staring at Cora, looking like he was itching to get up and talk to her.

“Did you fuck up?”

“Massively,” Rooster replied, causing Phoenix to nod again.

“Well, if you want to fix it, you have about a week to do it. Probably less,” Phoenix reminded Rooster. Sharing a look with Bob, who heard their whole conversation, but would be sworn to secrecy, Phoenix got up from the table. “We’ll give you some space.”

Phoenix and Bob walked off, chatting between themselves as they made their way over to where some of the other Daggers were sitting. Rooster sat alone for a moment, lost in his thoughts, before he slowly stood up from his seat. Holding his dress cap in his hand, Rooster made his way over to the window where Cora was still standing, watching Nickie out on the bench.

If she felt his presence or noticed him walking over, she did not acknowledge him. She just kept her gaze focused on Nickie.

“Cora?” he gently called with his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes, Bradley?” she answered, not moving her gaze from her son.

“Can . . . are you alright?” Bradley questioned, earning a long exhale from Cora.

“I can take care of myself, Bradley. Don’t worry about me.”

“And . . . Nickie?”

“I am more than capable of taking care of my son,” Cora practically hissed, turning back to Bradley with a sharp, defensive look in her eye.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Bradley replied, bowing his shoulders a bit under the weight of Cora’s glare. “I just . . . can we talk? Please?”

Cora glared up at him and for a moment, Bradley wondered if she was going to reel around and smack him straight across the face. She certainly looked like she wanted to do that. But eventually, she broke the eye contact and looked back out at the bench, where Nickie was sitting alone.

“Fine,” she breathed out, turning for the door.

They walked outside of the Hard Deck, well aware of the number of eyes trained on them. Cora quietly asked Penny to keep a close eye on Nickie while she was gone, before leading Bradley down the boardwalk and away from prying ears and invading eyes. Cora didn’t say anything. She just simply wrapped her arms around herself and kept walking forward with Bradley trailing behind her.

Once they were towards the end of the parking lot and closer to the beach, she turned around sharply, the small heel of her shoe clicking on the worn wood of the boardwalk. Her pose was defensive and her gaze was hardened, like she was gearing up for a fight.

“What do you have to say?” Cora demanded, causing Bradley to look at the ground for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” he stated, earning a sharper glare from Cora.

“You’re going to have to be a little more specific there,” Cora responded sharply.

“For the whole . . . incident. At your house,” Bradley added, lamely in Cora’s opinion.

“The one that you caused?” Cora suggested harshly. When Bradley didn’t respond, Cora let the maternal anger that she felt ever since she watched Nickie’s face crumble that night just come bursting out. “Why the hell did you decide to show up after seventeen years and traumatize the kid that you already fucked up by never showing up in the first place!?”

“I didn’t mean—”

“—I don’t give a shit!” Cora interjected, cutting off Bradley before she could hear any more of his ridiculous excuses. Because then she might have actually throttled him. “Do you have any idea of what it feels like to be rejected by one of your parents? To be tossed aside!?”

“I never—”

“—You have no idea what it feels like to have one of your parents just decide that they don’t give enough of a shit about you to stick around! You have no idea what it’s like going through your whole fucking life wondering why you weren’t good enough for someone to stick around, blaming yourself for other people’s actions!”

Bradley knew that Cora wasn’t talking about Nickie so much anymore, but rather herself. It was hard to forget the conversations that a much younger Cora had with Carole and with Maverick about her birth mother. And he remembered holding her as she cried when she found out that the woman who gave birth to her went on to get married and have three kids with another man.

And, based off the limited interactions that he saw between Nickie and Cora, she didn’t leave much room for doubt about the lengths she would go through to protect Nickie.

“You have no idea what it feels like to just think you’re a giant asshole because hey, one of your parents stuck around and loved you and cared for you and you have plenty of people in your life who stepped up to be there for you, but all you can think about is the one person who was always supposed to be there who didn’t bother to give a single shit about you in the first place! You don’t Bradley!”

Cora pointed a finger straight at Bradley’s face and he quickly noticed how hard it was shaking.

“You decided to walk away and never look back! You decided to leave! That wasn’t my choice, that wasn’t my dad’s choice, that wasn’t Nickie’s choice, that was yours. So, the only person that you have to blame for this is yourself, Bradley!”

“I know!” Bradley raised his voice, causing Cora’s glare to intensify. But the tension slowly seeped out of Bradley and his shoulders sunk a bit more as he dropped his head. After a few moments of silence, Bradley picked his head up. “I know, Cora.”

“Great,” Cora replied, somewhat sarcastically. “What are you going to do about it then?”

“I changed my will,” Bradley stated, causing Cora to stare at him incredulously. “Look, we both know what can happen in this line of work and I still have all of the money that my mom and grandparents left me and—”

“—You think I want your money?” Cora practically hissed, sending him a look that instantly made him feel stupid. “What? You think that the only reason I wanted you around was for money? You think that low of me?”

“I didn’t say that,” Bradley defended himself. “But I’m assuming that Nickie’s going to go off to college in a few years and I can help.”

“I don’t want your money, especially if you think that all of this bullshit is just going to go away in an instant because you decided to pay for something for the first time in seventeen years,” Cora replied, waving her hands angrily around.

“I know that it won’t,” Bradley assured her, causing Cora to fold her arms across her chest again. “I know, Cora.” Bradley glanced back at the Hard Deck and in the direction of the beach, where Nickie was still sitting out on the bench. “But I . . . I want to make it right. With you. And with Nickie. And I know that there’s not a lot of time left, but I want to try.”

“Well, in addition to a lot of other traits that he inherited from you, he got your ability to hold a grudge,” Cora somewhat snapped, causing Rooster to wince and look away for a moment. “And frankly, he’s been through enough today. This century, actually.”

“I understand,” Rooster replied softly. He looked down at the ground for a moment before picking his head up again. “Do you think that . . . he would want to talk to me?”

“I don’t know,” Cora stated quietly, honestly not sure about the answer herself. “That’s a question for him, not me. But I’m not going to force him to have a relationship with anyone. Dad or not. He’s not a baby anymore. He’s more than old enough to make those kinds of decisions for himself.”

Rooster nodded slowly, staring down at the ground again. Sniffling, he turned back to Cora, who stared evenly back at him. She had cried all of the tears that she had to cry over this. And now, she just wanted the pain, the suffering, the angst to be over. She wanted it over for herself. And she definitely wanted it to disappear for her son.

“Why did you name him after my dad?” Rooster asked Cora, causing her to pause.

“It wasn’t a tough decision,” Cora replied after a few moments. “I mean, I couldn’t count the number of times that you said you wanted to name a son after your dad. And with all of the stories that my dad and your mom told us . . . I wanted Nickie to have those same kinds of traits. Kind and caring. Smart. Loyal. Someone that people trusted and knew that they could turn to when they needed help.” Cora looked down for a moment. “A good, honest man. That’s who I wanted my son to be.”

“I’m sorry, Cora,” Bradley repeated again, causing Cora to breathe in and out to steady herself. “I’m so sorry.”

“All you had to do was come back,” Cora whispered out, her voice breaking with emotion. “That’s all I wanted you to do.”

She tried to compose herself when the sound of footsteps caused her and Bradley to turn. Slider approached them slowly, clearly not trying to sneak up on them. Cora took a step away from Bradley to face Slider, discreetly wiping her tears away.

“Nickie’s looking for you,” Slider stated, causing Cora to nod.

She spared one last glance for Bradley before walking back towards the Hard Deck. Bradley watched her go before turning to meet Slider’s sharp glare. Spinning his cap in hand, Rooster straightened up a bit as he met Slider’s stare.

“Slider,” Rooster greeted him stiffly.

“Rooster,” Slider returned, with quite a bit of sass behind it.

With one last harsh look, Slider turned and walked back the way that he came, leaving Rooster alone with his thoughts.

Cora, meanwhile, stepped back into the Hard Deck to grab Nickie and Maverick and head home. Walking through the dwindling crowd, she paused when she spotted something pinned to Nickie’s suit jacket that wasn’t there before.

Wings. A set of wings.

Nickie stared at his mom, more than a bit nervous about how she would react to his choice. His grandfather hadn’t really shown any emotion since they got the news that Ice passed, so Nickie wasn’t expecting a reaction out of Maverick today. But Cora? Nickie was really worried about her reaction.

Cora slowly walked over to where Nickie was standing beside Penny and Sarah. She didn’t say anything at first, staring at the wings on his lapel. And then she simply pulling Nickie into her arms and gave him a squeeze.

“Did you want to go home?” she asked quietly, holding her son for a moment.

“Yeah,” Nickie replied, just as quietly.

“Then let’s go home.”

Tags: @xoxabs88xox @eternallyvenus @mygyn @kmc1989 @thegoddessc @midnightmagpiemama @badasspizzalover @praline357 @oatmealisweird @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby @abaker74 @avengersfan25 @yogabigooby @daisydaisygoose @sgt-barnesveins @angelbabyange @percysaidnever @artemissunn @indiestrashfire @kidd3ath @luv4kani @lt-spork

(If I forgot you in the tags, don’t be afraid to ask again because I’m definitely scatterbrained when it comes to that but please have a reference to your age somewhere on your blog (bio, pinned post) or just message me!)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 7 Part 8 Epilogue

#top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #top gun: maverick #top gun #tgm #tgm fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster fanfic #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster x oc #bradley rooster bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw x oc #rooster top gun #rooster #rooster x oc #rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw fic #rooster angst #top gun rooster

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lunajay33 · 2 months

Text

New World🍂Part.3

Summary:You’ve made it to the cdc and a drunken night changes things between you and Daryl, but will it change your friendship for the better or worse?

Part.2

•Masterlist•

The CDC was our last resort and after screaming and beginning we got in and everything finally felt secure, Jenner showed us to the rooms and even said there was hot water

You threw your bag on the bed as Daryl was setting up the spare couch in the room

“What are you doing?” You asked confused

“Settin up the bed, I ain’ sleepin on the floor”

“And you’re not sleeping in the couch, after sharing a sleeping bag for weeks I think we can share a bed Daryl” you laughed

“Fine” he huffed as he threw himself on the bed, putting his arms behind his head

“Do you wanna take a shower first?”

“Nah go ahead imma look around this place, maybe find us somethin ta drink” he said

So you got some clothes and hopped in the shower and god did it feel good, to finally get all the builds up dirt and grime of your skin. You finished up quickly not wanting to hog all the water and saw Daryl back on the bed with a bottle of what looked like to be some kind of liquor

“Ya want some?” He asked after he took a gulp of it

Usually you’d decline but why not, you found somewhere and you needed a night of relaxation, so you jumped on the bed next to him and took the bottle

You tipped it back and the liquid burned going down

“Ugh that’s awful” you whined handing it back over

~~~~~~~~

Dinner came around so you both went down and enjoyed a fun night with the group, you could feel the alcohol kicking it and it helped you unwind

You could see Daryl was too, he was a definite chatter box when he got tipsy and you always thought it was cute, but I mean he was always kinda like that with you but seeing him open up around others was nice

“Drink up Glenn I wanna see how red yer face’ll get” he said making you laugh

As everyone slowly dispersed you took Daryl’s hand stopping him from his conversation with T.dog

“Wanna go to our room D?” You asked a little bit slurred

“Sure sunshine” he said taking your hand and leading you up to the room with the bottle still in his hand

He plopped down on the bed and put the bottle on the night stand as you stripped from you pants leaving you in one of Daryl’s night shirts and climbed in bed

You turned on your side as he did and you both just looked at each other

“Daryl why are you so beautiful?” You said making him laugh

“I think yer drunk peach” he said putting his hand on you hip

“I know I am, but that doesn’t make me a liar, you really are gorgeous, makes me wish I was one of those lucky ladies you’d hang out with back in school” you were too drunk your filter was gone

“Ya know I never did anything other than make out with them”

“Well they were lucky enough to get atleast some action from The Daryl Dixon” you could see the blush reach his ears and cheeks

“Are ya serious right now?” He asked as you put you hand through his hair

“Of course i think I’ve always had feelings for you, just think they’ve grown as we got older”

“Yer gonna regret all this tomorrow”

“No im not, im just hoping you won’t look at me any different, i still need you Daryl even if you don’t feel the same”

“Ya know why I never went further with any of em?”

“Whys that?” You mumbled

“Cuz they weren’ you”

You knew this was hard for him to say he wasn’t very vocal about his feelings

“I’m glad I decided to have lunch with you that day”

“I am to sunshine, lucky every day” he said as he pulled you closer and kissed the top of your head as you both feel asleep feeling the alcohol take over

~~~~~~~~~~~

You woke up to the sun shining in your eyes and a pounding headache, you sat up rubbing your eyes hoping this headache will go away soon, looking beside you when you heard a groan to see a tired Daryl

“How’re you feeling D?” You asked as he sat up beside you

“ ‘bout as good as I look”

“So amazing” you joked then remembering everything that happened last night

“Stop that” he groaned as he got up and put on his shoes

Maybe he didn’t remember everything, maybe that was a good thing last thing you’d want is for him to be awkward around you and distance himself

You both went down and thankfully breakfast was already made and you were desperate for food to heal this hangover

The day went on and all of a sudden the lights shut off, you ran downstairs to the room Jenner first showed you seeing everyone freaking out

Daryl came over with his chest heaving

“Daryl what’s going on” you asked placing your hand on his arm

“Place is gonna explode, runnin out of energy and the place is locked down”

“What? There has to be a way out, we’ve come so far we can’t die here” you said feeling the panic rise as your eyes started to water

He wrapped his arms around your waist pulling you back against his chest as you slide to the floor crying

“I’m scared D, I don’t wanna die”

“Shhh ya ain’ dyin today, imma get us outta here, imma try” he said squeezing me tight

He got up and took an axe slamming it against the door

After everything happened, the grenade helping you get you, Daryl took your arm dragging you quickly to his truck the building was gonna explode enough second

He pushed you down and covered you with his own body against the seat

The explosion boomed making your ears ring as Daryl sat you up trying to shake you out of your trance

“Hey can ya hear me?” He snapped his fingers in front of you

Your hearing slowly came back as you focused on him

“Daryl……I love you” the rush of a near death experience showed you, you couldn’t waste your precious time with Daryl anymore, he needed to know

He didn’t say anything he held my hand as we all drove away to our next location, your heart felt like it was gonna either, you knew he didn’t like this stuff but god at least I thought he’d say something, you’ve told him you’ve loved him before but in a light hearted way because he was your best friend, but you knew he knew this was different

But at least he knew now, you loved him that’s all he needed to know

—///—///—///—///—///—///—

Part.4<-

Guys I’m in my depression era, I feel like crap ever day but I hope you’re liking the story

Taglist: @deansapplepie @thebadbatch2022 @writer-ann-artist @ghostboneswrites

#daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon #twd daryl #twd fanfiction #twd x reader #twd fluff #twd rick #twd michonne #twd negan #daryl dixon fluff #daryl x you #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon smut #daryl imagines #maggie greene #glenn rhee #rick grimes x y/n

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deathbecomesthem · 25 days

Text

Crawling to the Finish | Part 4 | 10K

Eddie Munson x Fem!Disabled!Reader

*This is a completed series that is queued and will be released on the dates below. This Masterlist will be updated with each part that is released.

+18 ONLY | MDNI

Warnings: There will be lots of descriptions of medical stuff. The reader is physically disabled due to an undefined accident. Major bone trauma. Lots of talk about pain. Blood loss/Blood transfusion, discussions about a urethral catheter and post surgical bowel movement. Vomiting. This is an honest story about what a post surgical experience is often like. In my opinion, it's not super explicit, but take heed of the warnings.

There is SMUT in this part. (Oral, PIV)

Summary: You get your hip replacement, and your life.

A/N: The physical disability described in this series is my own. The experiences are very close to what my own. Be kind.

A/N 2: This is it, the last chapter of this series. I hope it's satisfying. It took a lot for me to write this story, especially this part. 💜

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The alarm screams into your quiet bedroom at 4:00. You were already on edge, so the sounds makes you leap in the air, throwing your arm hard into the soft flesh of the person laying next to you. You both groan in pain – you from the jolt to your hip, Eddie from your hard fist hitting his chest.

“Oh, god, I’m so sorry.” Eddie’s rolling over to hop off the side of the bed to help you up. It’s an automatic movement at this point. He’s spent nearly every single night in your bed for the last 2 weeks, and he never fails to help you in the morning, even when he’s still mostly asleep.

“I’m fine, Baby.” His voice is hushed, but alert. He was as restless as you were last night. He held you tightly and played with your hair until you finally drifted for a little while.

You asked him if his uncle minded him being away from home so much, and he laughed and reminded you that you’re both adults. Your mom was fine with him staying over, and all had an unspoken arrangement about refraining from any kind of sexual activities when she was home. Really, you were so tired and scared about your upcoming surgery, there wasn’t much more than occasional heavy petting in the front seat of his van after school anyway.

“Go back to bed, Ed. I’ve gotta get ready, you can sleep.” Wordlessly, not arguing, just doing, he helps you get into the bathroom. You hear your mom moving on the other side of her bedroom door. Eddie gives you a kiss on the forehead, and heads back to your room.

A clean pair of underwear, sweatpants, and a t shirt sit on the stool in the bathroom. You spot the pre-surgical soap sitting on the lip of the bathtub along with a fresh washcloth. Time to wash your body, every inch, with the hospital soap. The smell immediately brings you to realization that – yes – this is happening today.

Your mom meets you in the doorway of the bathroom, ready to take her own shower, as you leave to finish getting ready in your bedroom. She gives you a tight-lipped smile and pats your arm before squeezing past you and into the steam filled room. When you enter your bedroom, you find Eddie sitting on the end of your bed, fully dressed. He’s sitting with his hands held between his open knees. His smile matches the one your mom had just given you, the tension and stress about the upcoming day edging you close to the edge. You’re ready to break.

Eddie points to the chair that sits in the corner of your room and tells you, “Sit down, Baby.” You don’t question it, you sit for him. Your brain is an open nerve, every bad thought runs through it over and over again. You can hear a distant screaming in your head, white noise zinging between your ears. Eddie stands and walks over to you, grabbing your hairbrush from the vanity. He motions for you turn and tip your head back a little. Again, you comply.

Your hair is only slightly damp. You shampooed it last night when you took your first pre surgery shower. Eddie is so gentle when he runs the brush through your tangles. He’s humming something quietly while his hands run up the back of your neck in a soothing movement.

His voice is soft and sweet, filling the room with a warm calm. You’ve never heard him sing before, and you feel a sense of sadness at missed opportunities. You close your eyes and focus on his voice, on his soothing touch on your neck and scalp, and on the bristles of the brush massaging your tension. The surge of affection you feel for him is so intense. You vacillate between overwhelming affection and absolute terror, back and forth. The feelings are both too much to be shared, you feel the intensity of each fully, filling you completely. You want to stay in this chair and never leave it, Eddie singing barely above a whisper, as if the volume of his voice may make time speed up.

The *tap, tap* at your door reminds you that time is, in fact, moving forward, and now you must leave. You haven’t even opened the door yet, but your brain is 10 steps ahead. The moment is broken, and you feel bricks being laid in your head, building a wall to separate yourself from everything and everyone around you. You manage a little smile at Eddie when he pulls you in for a hug before you leave the room and make your way down, down, down the stairs and into the front seat of your mom’s little rust bucket.

For all you know, Eddie stays in that exact spot for the rest of the day, although he’s meant to go to school and get a status report at lunch time from your mom. It had been a, well not a fight, but a disagreement between Eddie and yourself about whether he should drive to the hospital before the surgery. You had told him, in no uncertain terms, that he was not to sit in that waiting room all day with your parents. It would be pointless. Besides, you reminded him that he had an exam study day in one of his classes, and he needed the help since you’d be out of commission for a while. It wasn’t until your mom assured Eddie that he could call the hospital, even going as far as to get the direct line for the waiting area your parents would be in before he relented and agreed to wait until he knew you were in your own room before trying to come down and visit.

At least, that was the plan. The best laid plans of mice and men often go astray.

It takes a lifetime and no time at all to get from sitting in the front seat of your mom’s car to lying on the cold metal table of the operating room. From what you can tell, there are about a half a dozen people scooting around the room. It’s hard to know with everyone in caps on their heads and masks over their faces. The one sitting behind your head, somewhere your eyes can’t reach, is the anesthesiologist. You met him in pre-op, and he said several times that you probably won’t even remember meeting him. You will. They always say this, and you always remember.

The smell in the hospital is all too familiar. The disinfectant used within these walls permeates everything. It will be the only thing you smell until you leave in two days, with the exception of –

“Alright, let’s get some happy gas in you. Once you’re feeling good, we’ll get your IVs in, ok?” A mask with a rubber seal around it is placed over your mouth and nose. Your initial reaction is too feel panic, because it’s unnatural to take deep breaths of something that smells like this. But you do it, you let the happy gas fill your mouth and then travel down to your lungs. A couple of mouthfuls and the panic, as well as the worry, starts to fade to black.

“There she goes. Y/n, how are we feeling? Good?” You nod in answer, and it feels as if your head weighs 50 pounds and is also weightless at the same time. You don’t feel the pinch of the needle piercing your skin, but you know it’s in because they’ve got you counting backwards now. 100, 99, 98, 97, 96, “y/n, what comes after 96? Can you tell me?” 95… 94… Everything is black.

“Y/n, I need you to answer me.” An unfamiliar voice is saying your name, and you can’t move. You can’t even open your eyelids. Everything is heavy and, oh god, your mouth is so dry.

“Water.” It’s barely a whisper when it leaves your mouth, a plea, you felt like you might die without a drink.

“No, dear, no water right now,” a hand is fiddling around under your blanket. Yes, a blanket, you’re in a bed, “maybe some ice chips in a little while, alright?”

Not alright, “I’m so thirsty.” Your voice sounds strange, and your throat is so sore. What happened to you? As you wrack your brain for an answer, the beeping sounds from the machines in the recovery room start to bring you back. You were in the hospital. You had surgery.

“Mom?” If you’re in the recovery room, she must be here too somewhere. Your eyes are open now, but you can’t see. The world is blur and you can’t sharpen your focus. You feel panic setting in, but when you try to move you find you’re legs are completely without feeling.

“Your mom ran out to get your dad since you’re waking up. It’s been a long day for everyone, and they’re anxious to see you.” The nurse, you can see her blue scrubs, but still can’t make out any defining facial features, pats you on the arm. It’s supposed to be reassuring, but you’re desperate now.

“Please, water.” You’re minding your manners, but you still need that drink. You need something to calm the fire in your throat. Your tongue is sticky, and you can’t form the words correctly in your mouth. It hurts.

The nurse isn’t answering you anymore, she’s pretending she can’t hear your desperate plea for the most essential need you have. It’s all you can think of. A drink. A drop. Anything. This is when your mom and dad walk into your line of vision. Still blurry, but you know their forms.

“Water,” it’s all you can say, all you can think of, “please.” Your mom is rubbing the top of your head, and you hear a catch in her breath. Is she crying?

“Are you ok, baby?” Her voice is hoarse, and you know she’s been crying now.

“I’m ok,” the words are sticky, your tongue thick in your mouth, “what’s wrong?” Your fuzzy brain tries to focus on her words. Your eyes are starting to focus finally, and you see your dad’s face is full of concern. He’s standing at the end of your bed. Above his head you see the big red numbers of the clock at the nurse’s station. It’s 7:00. Your surgery should have ended 5 hours ago.

Another hour passes and you’re finally in your room. 5 days in the hospital, at least, is what you’re told. Something went wrong, and no one’s really clear about what it was. The surgery went hours longer than it should have, and you ended up having a blood transfusion. You lost a lot of blood, apparently, and most of it was on the surgical gown when your doctor left the OR to update your family on the situation. Your mom was hysterical, according to your dad. She thought you were going to die. But you didn’t, because now you’re staring at the faces of your parents. They look terrified, like you might just disappear if they take their eyes off of you.

Eddie had come to see you after school, expecting to find you in your room already. He stayed with your parents for those few hours. Your mom sent him home, insisted on it, once she found out you were out of surgery and not on the verge of bleeding to death anymore. She said he didn’t argue, but he looked wrecked.

Hearing Eddie’s name sends a pang through your chest, but your thirst and the slowly growing ache in your leg overtakes any thought about anyone else. The ice chips your mom snuck to you without the nurse noticing came right back up, and now your focus was on your thirst and your fear of throwing up any liquid you might try to drink.

In and out of consciousness, that’s how night one post hip replacement goes. People come and go. Your dad and Sun leave after a while. It’s just your mom sleeping in the recliner set in the corner with a hospital blanket draped over her legs. Every hour. Every hour a nurse came in to check your vitals. You drift to sleep only to be awoken by the ice cold hands of the night nurse touching you, putting the blood pressure cuff on your arm, messing with the many tubes that are inserted into different areas of your body.

“I have to go to the bathroom.” It’s 3:30 in the morning when you feel it. The sneaking urge to piss. You knew that it didn’t make sense logically, but it was something that always happened. You had to pee, but you have a catheter inserted into your urethra.

“Oh, do you need to have a bowel movement already?” A bowel movement? No, I don’t need to take a shit. The nurse is moving stuff around, likely looking for a bed pan for you.

“No, I have to pee.” You have to pee. The pressure is incredible, and it hurts.

Your mom is stirring, she’s been listening to the interaction, not intervening until she knew she had to. “y/n, sweetie, you have a catheter, remember? You don’t have to pee, it just feels weird.”

You hate this, you hate feeling like you have to be handled.

“Then take it out. I have to pee.” You know they won’t take it out.

“Here, don’t forget you can use this when you start to hurt.” Your mom puts the morphine pump into your hand. The monitor for the pump is facing away from your bed, she had turned it hours ago when she realized you could tell when it cut you off. Anything to try to keep you on an even keel.

You press the button on the pump over and over. Until you fade again.

You wake up scratching at your arms. Everything itches. Head to toe. It’s the morphine, you know. This is another thing you know that happens. When the itching starts to get intense like this, your desire to get the IV out of your arm starts to drive you crazy.

The next time you wake up enough to register what’s happening around you, the sun is up. Your mom is also up and she’s digging around in her purse. A nurse, a new one now that the morning shift started, is putting a blood pressure cuff on your arm again.

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” Your mom glides over to you. Your pain is manageable, but your brain is so fuzzy. “I’m running home for a quick shower. Dr. Greene will be coming down in a couple of hours to see you.”

She’s gone, and you’re alone. The sounds and scents of the hospital are all around you. The only solace you take in the morning is the fact that water is sitting fine now. You’ve been able to eat some jello, but it roils in your stomach. You have a plastic bin on the table next to your ice water “just in case”.

In the hospital, time is meaningless. Every moment is the same and it’s never ending. You rationally know that things are happening, every moment spent there your body is healing. You know that your time spent here is short when viewed in the context of your life, but it’s also an eternity.

The morning shows come and go, and in the talk show hours you meet someone new. A woman, smaller than you, and she’s wearing a wide leather belt over her hospital scrubs. Shit. You thought maybe you’d get a reprieve since you almost died yesterday, but no, this is when the torture begins.

“Good morning, y/n! I’m Leslie, I’ll be with you every morning and afternoon while you’re here,” yep, you know this already. You can feel yourself aging backward in this moment, you’re going to be a problem for her, it’s already been decided, even if it is more of a punishment for yourself than anything else, “We’re gonna get you up, how’s that sound?”

“Get me up? Like standing?” This isn’t what you expected at all.

“Yes, standing and,” Leslie walks over to the curtain that closes you off from the door to your room to show you something, “we’re going up the stairs.” There’s a small platform with 3 steps and a railing on either side.

Without further conversation, she’s attempting to help you swing your legs over the edge of the bed to get you standing. You offer no help whatsoever. If she wants you up, she can figure it out herself. She mutters an “I see how it is” to herself before digging in her bag and retrieving a sling. She knows what she’s doing, and she’s not going to let your shit attitude get in the way of your recovery.

You never actively fight these things. You just don’t help. You let her situate the sling under your back with your aching legs hanging over the edge of the hospital bed. You let her hands get a good grip on the handles and pull. She’s strong, and she’s got you on your feet.

It’s grueling. The next 40 minutes is spent being dragged, literally at times, from bed to stairs until this pixie demon made you take at least one step up. The rage keeps you moving. Her comments about how ”maybe you just don’t want to get better”, or “is it really worse than being in that bed? Come on” pushed you to get her to shut up. It became your only thought, get this annoying bitch out of my face before I start swinging.

You know this is how it will go. If you thought that, due to the fact that you almost died yesterday, you’d get a small reprieve, you were mistaken. Your surgeon explains this to you when he stops in your room for 10 minutes to check on you that morning. You knew your mom would have a kitten knowing that she managed to miss him. He wouldn’t be back until tomorrow, and that was only if you were lucky.

“We need to encourage the bone to grow and heal through the hollow rod in your femur,” Dr. Greene is delivering this information, as if it will make anything easier, while he lifts your brand new hip joint high enough for your knee to be level with your face. You want to tell him to stop, because it scary and more painful than you want to admit, “See, it’s perfect. Give it a few weeks and you’ll be better than you’ve been in years.”

Time is funny in the hospital, because you fall asleep as soon as he leaves your room, exhausted from his prodding and the unexpected physical therapy visit. You sleep for what feels like hours only to wake up a half hour later when a nurse is at your bedside with a sight you were dreading.

She thinks you’re still sleeping. She probably has no idea that you’re as familiar with the urethral catheter removal kit as anyone not working in healthcare could be. She’s ripping open the sterile package and opening it up on the table that recently held your barely touch breakfast. She starts trying to rouse you while her back is turned and she’s moving the rolling table towards your bed. You can sleep anytime, but right now she has to do this extremely unpleasant task.

You open your eyes and answer in the affirmative to whatever she asks you. It doesn’t matter, you’re going somewhere else for a while. She can do what she needs while you close your eyes. The sun beats down on your face while you lay in the grass. You feel individual blades between your toes and fingers. It’s itchy, and you think you can even feel a stray ant on your arm. It’s fine, he can crawl around and explore the freckles scattered there while you let the sun’s rays lick across your skin.

A sharp pain brings you back to your hospital bed. The nurse seems unperturbed by your yelp, working diligently at your most private place while it’s laid bare in the cold room. You let yourself drift back to the open field where you hear a bumble bee buzz past your closed eyes. Something else is new, a warm hand entangled with your own. You feel cool rings against your warm skin and you know it’s Eddie there with you. You’ve never had anyone else visit this place with you, but it feels so right to have him here. He’s humming a tune while his fingers stroke your knuckles.

You stay there with Eddie, not realizing you have tears pricking at the corner of your eyes until you hear the nurse speaking to you, “sorry, sweetie, but we’re all done. I’ll get you a tissue,” you hear her crumpling up all of the pieces of the catheter that will go into the bin, and you quickly pull the sheet back over your exposed legs.

“Alright, I’ll be back in a minute with your meds, and we can order some lunch.” She leaves the tray next to your bed, now with a box of tissues to wipe away the tears you had shed at the thought of your boyfriend. You want him here, and you want him far away. You want his comfort, and you don’t want him to touch you. You want to be alone, and you need someone here holding your hand. It’s too much, feeling anything at this moment.

You know it’s the drugs, partially, that make you feel like this. You try not to think about needing it because your body was split open. The only thing holding the skin at your hip together being staples and internal stitches until it all heals back together. You try not think about the foreign materials inside replacing the useless dead bones that have to be incinerated. You try not to think about the upcoming pain. The humiliation you know you’ll have to endure. You just hope that being up and moving, despite being something you hate doing, maybe it will help your body re-learn how to have normal bowel movements and allow your bladder muscles to regain their strength.

Lunch comes and goes, and your mom comes back. You’re in and out of consciousness, waking for your regular meds and occasionally when the nurses come to prod and poke at you. You dream of walking barefoot through dewy grass. You dream of Mr. Willis’ classroom, the stench of him so thick you can see it in the air, a green fog filling your nose and throat. You wake up coughing and find your mouth full and chest covered in vomit, the half a turkey sandwich from a few hours ago too much for your aching stomach to handle.

“Eddie’s stopping by in an hour,” your mom is telling you this as she cleans bile out of your hair, “I know it’s not an ideal time, sweetie, but he’s been so persistent. He really loves you, ya know?” You’re too tired for this conversation. Your throat is raw. You want to tell her to make Eddie go home when he comes, but you’re too weak. Besides, your mom will clean you and make you smell nice. It’s not the first time she’s had to do to this type of work, it’s not the first time she’s had to cover up the ugly truth of you to make it easier for the people around you to be feel comfortable. She might even put some makeup on your face while your eyes are resting to give you the appearance of a healthful glow. That was fine. It’s all fine. It will all be fine.

When he gets there, your mom makes an excuse to leave. She stops next to Eddie and says something low that you can’t make out. Immediately, you feel angry and cough out the first words you’ve said in hours, “I’m not a child, you don’t need to whisper behind my back.”

“I was just telling Eddie that your stomach was upset,” your mom’s eyes are pleading for forgiveness while Eddie moves slowly to the chair positioned next to your bed. She sighs a little to herself, points at the little vomit catcher on the table next to you for Eddie to see, and steps around the privacy curtain.

“Hey, baby, how are you feeling?” Eddie is cautiously looking for a place to put his hand so it can touch you, you can see the cogs of his brain turning as his eyes scan the multiple IV spots on both hands. You have enough brain power to turn the hand closest to Eddie over, palm up so he knows he can hold it.

His touch is warm, you hand is icy from the IV fluids running continuously through your veins. No matter what you do, they’re always cold. It feels so nice to have his calloused thumb run along the length of your pointer finger, up and down, up and down. You know you’re going to fall asleep again. But he came to see you. You have to try.

“I don’t feel very good, Ed, and I’m so tired.” Your eyes are closed now and he’s brushing the hair away from your face. It’s still damp from the sponge bath your mom gave you moments before.

“Sleep, baby. I’ll be here, ok?”

A mercifully dreamless sleep takes over for a while. When you finally open your eyes, it’s dark in the room with only the light of a small lamp in the corner turned on. Eddie is sitting cross legged on the window sill with a notebook and pencil, your mom in the chair next to him, stealing as much light as possible so she can read her paperback. How long had you been allowed to sleep?

“What time is it?” Your voice is weak, and you’re suddenly very thirsty, very hungry, and your bladder is screaming at you. “Mom, I have to go to the bathroom,” you whisper out before either of them can move.

After a little struggle, and some lost modesty as the back of your gown was wide open, you’re mom gets you up on your feet. You know the rules, she’s supposed to get a nurse in to help me to the bathroom, but that could take a while. So, your mom and Eddie, poor unprepared Eddie, helped you up, and let you lean on them while you hobbled to the adjacent bathroom.

As you sit on the porcelain seat, willing your bladder muscles to work, taking deep breaths, begging your body to do a thing that most people will never know can be so incredibly complicated, you worry about Eddie. You know how this looks from your perspective, it’s misery. The first days after a surgery like this are always terrible, but the added stress your body has been through the last few years and the blood transfusion, it’s left you weak and helpless. You try to imagine what you must look like through his eyes.

A trickle of warmth leaks out of you, and you practically cry with joy. You knew if you couldn’t do it right now the nurse would have to come back and re-cath you to relieve your bladder. You can see from the back of you mom’s head in the corner of the small bathroom that she’s doing a little cheer to herself. She also understands, she might be the only one in your life that knows how bad it can get.

The room is still dark when you re-enter, your arm around your mom’s waist to steady you while you drag the IV pole behind you. The adrenaline of being able to use the bathroom is fading fast, and you’re ready to get back into your bed. You spot her, a nurse, in the corner talking to Eddie while arranging pillows around the big chair and you know what’s next.

Eddie’s quick to meet you and your mom, and to fill you in, “Hey, baby, the nurse said you should sit up for a while, ok?” You don’t like his tone, and you can’t help the frown on your face. You hate being talked to like a child, hate people making plans without your consent, even for something as simple as sitting in a chair.

“Fine.” You can feel Eddie tense up at your tone, while he guides you to the chair. You address the nurse as you lower yourself slowly, “how long do you want me here?” Everything hurts and is uncomfortable. You know the pain meds are strong, but they can’t reach every signal your body is throwing at you. Your nerves screaming that something is wrong with you. It was exhausting having to ignore it and do the work.

You had been warned before your surgery that it would be like this. Not like some of your other surgeries, a hip replacement requires immediate work and physical therapy. Too much rest was the enemy, you had to get yourself moving.

“Oh, I don’t know, let’s see if we can get at least 30 minutes. How’s that sound?” Her beaming smile puts you on edge, but you just nod and let Eddie put a stool under your feet, fussing with it to make sure it would be comfortable.

The three of you sat, Eddie back on the window sill and your mom at the edge of your bed, for an hour. If nothing else, you would stubbornly do more than they expected. It was in your nature to prove something, to be better than you need to be. Feel less pain, heal faster, get the fuck out of this hospital room as soon as you can.

When they help you back in the bed, finally, you don’t have anything to say to anyone. No words, despite the friendly conversation your mom and Eddie had carried on the whole time. The nurse brought your prescribed dinner, a gross chicken breast with mashed potatoes and green beans. It all smelled the same, like the disinfectant that covered every surface of the hospital. You manage the mashed potatoes, praying to a god you don’t believe in that it will stay in your stomach and not make a surprise reappearance in an hour.

When Eddie finally says goodbye, he’s been sitting next to you for a while stroking your hair. His eyebrows pinched in concern at your lack of response to him. You want to tell him you’re sorry. You want to tell him to pick you up and take you home. You don’t want to be here anymore. You hate it, and you hate that you can’t get yourself out of the darkness. You feel surrounded by pain and memories. The hospital always brings out the worst in you.

And this is how it goes. Every day for the next 4, each progressively better. Your recovery is going “exceptionally well” according to Dr. Greene. He can’t believe how fast it’s moving, but to you it’s like you’re stuck in molasses. Everything is hard. The first bowel movement you have on day 3 comes with the aid of suppositories. You have to insist that your mom come up with an excuse to keep Eddie away from your room that afternoon when you heard the nurse’s plan to get your intestines back on track. It’s also the same day that the IVs come out, which means you have more control over your meds. You can even get to the bathroom alone, with the help of a walker.

On day 4, Eddie doesn’t visit. He calls, apologizing profusely. And you feel like you know. This is what you expected. You tell him it’s fine, who wants to be sit and be bored at the hospital? You let him tell you about how excited he is for his new campaign. You let him tell you how much he misses you. If he misses me, why didn’t he come? You wish you could reach through the phone line to touch his face. You want to tell him that you’re sorry for anything bad he’s found out about who you are. You’re so sorry, you don’t want to lose him. You don’t want him to leave you. Please, don’t leave me. Please, I’ll be better soon. I’m so sorry.

He has no idea that you’re barely holding on, tears streaming down your face. Alone in your hospital room while he gives you latest gossip about Dustin and his imaginary girlfriend. You even manage to laugh a little. You tell him you miss him, clearing your throat so he can’t hear the break in your voice.

You fall asleep that night contemplating the end of your relationship with Eddie. He was too kind to do it while you laid in this fucking bed. He’ll wait until you’re home. He’ll wait until you’re back at school. He might even wait until after you both graduate. But you know he will. You can’t blame him. You tried to tell him, in the best way you knew how. Tomorrow you get to go home, but all you can think about is how alone you are. You told your mom to sleep in her own bed tonight, you’d be fine. And you are, but you’re not. Why can’t they see that you’re not ok?

“Good morning, baby.” Your eyes are so heavy, you feel like you’ve been asleep for days. You know it’s Eddie’s hand on your arm, it’s his voice ringing in your head. You wonder for a moment if you’re delusional or dreaming. He’s not the only one here, your mom, dad, and Sun are all in the room with you.

“What time is it?” It’s your first thought. Your eyes can’t focus on the clock positioned on the wall across the room. You’re realizing what this is, it’s Saturday morning, you’re supposed to be released. Don’t these people know it will be hours before that actually happens.

“It’s 8. I brought you some breakfast,” you can’t stop the little groan that leaves your mouth at the thought of another hospital meal, but you see Eddie’s holding up a brown bag, “don’t tell the nurse but I brought you sausage McMuffin.

“Oooooohhhh,” you grab the bag out of his hand, the thought of sinking your teeth into the greasy mess. The first bite is heaven, “oh my god, Eddie, I could fucking kiss you right now,” you can’t even care that your mouth is full when you practically moan the words to him. “Oh my god, did you get me a hashbrown too?”

“Who knew you were such a cheap date, Ilene?” Eddie’s practically glowing at your reaction to his little gift. “I figured you’d be sick of the shitty hospital food.”

“You didn’t tell me you were coming. You should go home, Eddie. It’s gonna be a while before I can get out of here.” His face falls a little, and you immediately regret suggesting he leave. “I’m sorry,” you reach out for his arm and smile at him, “I want you here, I just don’t want you to have to sit around all day with me.”

He waves it off, and pulls an extra chair next to the bed, “you look so good today,” his hand cups your face and it sends a wave of pleasure through your chest. His words make you laugh, though. You know how you look, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the bathroom mirror when you took a piss at 5 am. You had been excited about getting to the bathroom on your own, but grimaced when you caught your reflection. Your eyes were hollow looking with dark purple circles surrounding them. Your cheeks looked thin and pale. Your hair was stringy. You knew the first thing you’d do when you got back home was take a shower, assuming you’d have the energy.

“I’m serious, you’ve got color in your cheeks,” Eddie looks back to make sure your parents aren’t listening and he leans in close to your ear, “I’ve been thinking about all the ways I can help bring that glow back to your face, as soon as you’re up for it.”

“Eddie, don’t be a pervert, my parents are in the room,” your giggle does bring the attention of your mom, and you give her a tight lipped look. You lower your voice so only he can hear you, “Listen here, loverboy, it’s gonna be a while. I’m sorry.”

“No, do not apologize,” Eddie puts his hand through his hair in exasperation at himself, “I’ve just been thinking about it because I’ve been doing a little research.”

“Research? On sex? I mean, what?” This entire absurd conversation was happening at whisper level while your parents and your stepmom were just out of earshot, but he couldn’t leave you hanging.

“Oh, uh, I hope it’s ok, but I asked one of the nurses for resources about post hip replacement, uh, intimacy. You wouldn’t believe how much information there is about this stuff.” His eyes go wide at the memory, and you laugh thinking about Eddie hunched over sex pamphlets geared towards geriatric sex.

It’s a whirlwind after he drops that bomb, but the joy of the moment shared between you and him stays with you through the rest of the morning. The nurses come in with a stack of paperwork for your parents to fill out while the evil physical therapist makes you take your new hip for one last spin before she sets you free. It’s shocking, but you’re taking steps without any walking aids 5 days post-surgery. Your stubbornness doesn’t allow you to thank her for her help, but your mom happily does. By 11, you’ve been told that they’re sending a wheelchair up for you.

Your dad and Sun kiss you goodbye at the passenger side door of your mom’s sedan. This is the first time leaving the hospital after surgery without being locked tight in a cast or cumbersome brace. You feel hopeful. It’s a shock. You think, maybe this is going to work out, as if you never expected it to.

This is the first moment you’ve allowed yourself to think that way. You feel the temptation to push back, to throw that hope away, but you stop yourself. You let it sit. You let it travel through your body. You let that hope move from the top of your head to the ends of your toes. You embrace it. You close your mind to the thoughts you entertained last night, because right now, your goofy boyfriend is sitting in the backseat of your mom’s car, fiddling the ends of your hair while The Bangels blares from the speakers. And Eddie doesn’t say a word about it.

“I know what you said, and I don’t care. I am not wearing that dress.” Your mom is standing just inside the doorway of your bedroom with a white linen dress in her hand. She picked it up especially for the occasion, even after you told her that you would walk down the aisle, but absolutely not in a white dress. Tradition be damned.

“You’ll be the only one dressed like,” she’s waving dramatically at your choice of black jeans and black boots with a Corroded Coffin t shirt, “that.”

“You know I won’t be.” You’re applying the cherry red lipstick you bought especially for today, especially for Eddie. “And it’s a surprise for him. When I take off the gown, he’ll probably pass out.” You pop you lips together on a piece of tissue, “Totally worth it.”

It’s been exactly 6 weeks since you left the hospital. Full release from your surgeon. The only restrictions, which are lifelong restrictions – no skiing, no running, and no pivoting on the hip. Everything else? Go for it. He even spoke to you privately about sex, telling you that you should have no problem having a perfectly normal sex life. You’d wanted to crawl under the exam table during the conversation, you could feel the heat in your face, but Dr. Greene didn’t seem bothered. It was important information to have. He was vested in your full recovery and successful return to all of the normal life stuff. You were his perfect example of how a hip replacement in a young adult should look. (Except for the almost dying in the operating room, which he’s made no mention of since you left the hospital.)

You’ve been working on your gait. To the absolute confusion of your doctor, your left leg is a full 2 inches shorter than your right, and the muscles are weak. He insists that there’s no reason for the difference in leg lengths, but it’s still there. His offer to prescribe shoes with added lifts was met with a scoff from you. You wouldn’t be limited in your footwear. Even if it means you’ll have to deal with the consequences of it down the line.

The boots you’re wearing today you bought a week ago when you started your new job at the Shoe Circus. It’s only 15 hours a week, and you were technically supposed to wait until Dr. Greene released you for work, but you felt good and ready to do some normal teenager stuff. Like, have a shitty part-time retail job and tromp around in the woods with your boyfriend.

Your cane, specially adapted by the man himself, is waiting for you by the front door. You know that Principal Higgins will have a stroke if he sees the skull’s head handle that Eddie picked up somewhere. He just laughs and tells you, “I have my ways, Ilene, don’t worry about it,” when you ask him. The cane, though, can stay in your mom’s car. You shouldn’t need it for the ceremony.

When you arrive at the school, the parking lot is full, but you immediately spot Eddie’s van parked in the back by the trail that heads into the woods. You don’t see him, though, and he usually sticks out in the Hawkins crowd.

It’s not until you’re sat on the stage in alphabetical order that you spot him. He’s racing to the steps on the side of the stage, cap in hand and gown flowing behind him. He has the appearance of someone that just barely made it in time, which is weird because his van was in the parking lot when you arrived a half an hour ago. He manages to sneak to his seat with minimal damage, although you catch him trip over someone’s foot.

The ceremony is long and boring, and you’re so ready to get out of the building you wonder why you agreed to come in the first place. Mom wants you here. Your mom earned this, seeing her daughter walk for graduation, get her diploma, throw her cap in the air. So, you sit still and let your mind go back to the field with Eddie, your special spot, a place where time is meaningless and all that matters is you and him. Except this time, you really get to have that. You get to feel that grass between your toes, Eddie’s hand in yours, the sun beating down on your face. You just have to get through this tiresome ordeal.

Your mom gets her moment, you see her camera flashing its bulb as you shake hands with Principal Higgins, despite the “no flash photography” rule written out on the programs at the auditorium entrance. Your mom also gets to see you goofy ass boyfriend snatch his diploma out of Higgins’ hand and flip him off before he runs out of one of the side doors. It’s so stupid and ridiculous, but what do you expect? It’s Eddie.

Eddie’s shenanigans earn a big laugh from the corner of the auditorium. The Hellfire Club let out hoots and hollers of joy, their leader finally getting the fuck out of this prison. The club wanted to immediately start partying after the ceremony, and you had to do a lot of begging for them to let you steal Ed away for a while. A party was happening in 2 nights. You expect you’ll be taking care of a very sick boyfriend that night.

You let your mom take pictures of you holding your diploma, just like all the other parents are doing. She kisses you, she hugs you, she looks like she’s going to cry – these are all things that make you desperately uncomfortable, but you let her do them. And when she leaves, you know she feel satisfied and proud, so it’s worth it.

You’ve got your cane, and you ditched your robe in the trunk of your mom’s car before she left. You reapplied your lipstick and grabbed your purse. Now all you needed to do is find Eddie. You spot him leaning against his van, cigarette in hand. He was waiting for you. The closer you get, the more you can focus on his frame. Tall and thin, his curls fluffy and framing his face. You swear he’s doing it on purpose, standing in a spot where the sun rays whisper through the tree canopy and make him practically glow.

“Excuse me, sir. I’m looking for my boyfriend, have you seen him?” He catches you with his eyes, a wide smile that turns into wide eyes and a gaping mouth. You do a little twirl for him to catch sight of your very tight jeans. The corroded coffin shirt is cut into a crop top exposing a scandalous amount of skin.

“Holy shit, Ilene, were you wearing that during graduation?” As soon as you were within arm’s reach he pulled you into him, pressing your body against his. He feels like he’s on fire already, “Baby, baby, baby, mmmmm, come here, let me show you something.” He’s nuzzling at your neck like a cat, rubbing himself against you like he can’t control himself. You knew he’d like the outfit, but this is beyond what you could have expected.

Eddie was nervous about being with you. A part of the deal you made with each other was to be completely honest about any fear either of you might have about being intimate, no matter what the reason. Despite everything the doctor told you, what the pamphlets told him, and how using your hands on each other seemed to only fuel the fire you both felt, he kept telling you he wanted to be sure he wouldn’t hurt you.

“What do you want to show me, Ed? If it’s your cock, I’m fairly well acquainted with it already. Although I don’t mind getting to know it a little better,” Eddie’s groan in response is muffled by your hair, “but don’t we have plans?”

“Mmm, yeah, but let me show you first, ok?” Eddie breathes in the scent of your neck deeply before pulling himself away and taking your hand to lead you to the back of the van. When he opens the doors, his eyes are focused on your face. He wants to see your reaction to his surprise. To see the moment you take in the care he put into this.

Eddie has known since the first moments he spent with you that it was right. Everything about you made him feel. He embraced the feeling because he knew you couldn’t do that. You were so raw, an open wound moving around the school, oozing anger, sadness, and a kind of strength he couldn’t help but want to get close to. His initial goal was to get you to smile for him, and the first time he did, he was addicted. Everything he desired in life paled in comparison to the feeling he got when he heard you laugh, or when he heard you say his name. It sent a thrill through his body every time.

You are the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, and he wants to hold and protect you. He wants to laugh with you. He wants to be with you while he sees you unfurl your wings and fly away from all of the pain you’ve known for so long. He counts himself as extremely lucky to have been sent to Principal Higgins for detention all those weeks ago. He knows he never would have reached that graduation stage without you, and he can’t help but tear up at the thought of how much you’ve offered him in the short time you’ve known him.

Today, he wants to show you everything. Rip open his chest to hand over his still beating heart for you to hold. Because he knows you would protect it in the same way he knows he would protect yours. You gave him his future, he’s sure of it.

“Eddie, is that an air mattress?” You reach out to feel it underneath the soft bedding he has it made up with and you know the answer before he can speak it.

“No, baby, it’s a pillow top mattress, super soft, right?” The entire back of his van is made up like a makeshift bedroom, complete with extra soft looking pillows and a curtain between the front and the back for privacy. You see a foam wedge pillow set in the corner, and peep a picnic basket with a blanket folded underneath it, “I was thinking, since we don’t get a whole lot of private time, we could use this as a makeshift spot to, uh, mmmm,” you interrupt his train of thought backing yourself into him, letting your hips push against him. You reach your arm back and put your fingers in his hair, pulling his head down to your neck, “yeah, that’s what I was thinking.”

Eddie has to peel you off him to get you into the front seat of the van. You’re ready to test the bed in the high school parking lot, but he has other plans. His plans are better.

He doesn’t tell you where you’re going, just that he had already told your mom to not expect you back until tomorrow. The freedom of that information, something that only a month ago would have set your nerves alight, has you floating. The pain is real, it’s still there, but it feels more tangible. It feels like the pain that accompanies healing and growth, because it is. Your bones and muscles are literally growing stronger every day and the thought of spending the night in the back of Eddie’s van doesn’t terrify you. You can do that, and probably quite comfortably.

Especially because he made a space for you. He keeps doing that, making room, adjusting things without even realizing it. It makes your heart swell, seeing and feeling the care he takes in everything that comes with being your boy. He’s shined a light into all of your dark places and shrugged at the horrors, pushing them away from you and filling your life with an easy peace.

“Alright, so remember that, uh time we had out here a few weeks ago?” You’re pulling up to Lovers Lake, a secluded section you hadn’t realized even existed, “I was walking around out here contemplating life last week, and I found this little road and, well, no one comes out here.” He throws the van into park and wiggles his eyebrows at you, “Pretty, ain’t it?”

“Yeah, Ed. Real pretty.” You tell him while you gaze at his profile. He’s the most beautiful boy you’ve ever met. And you love him.

It’s hot dogs over a fire for dinner, with jello cups for dessert. He brought a bottle of wine, cheap gas station chardonnay that makes you giggly. You take your shoes and socks off to dip your toes in the cool lake water. Eddie fetches sticks to roast marshmallows. You decide camping is fun when you do it with him, especially when you know home is no more than a 20 minute drive away. For all it matters, you could be hours away from civilization with how brightly the moon light glows across the surface of the lake.

“You know, Eddie, I’ve got to tell you something very important,” it’s a reversal, Eddie’s got his head resting in your lap while you sit on a log bench at the lake edge. You’re running your hands through his hair while his eyes close. It smells like summer out here and the peepers are singing a song for you and your boy, “I love you, did you know that?”

He doesn’t open his eyes, but a smirk starts playing on his lips at your words. “Oh, you love me?” He whispers it, like it’s a secret between you and the woods, “I love you too, Ilene. I love you so fucking much I feel like my heart’s gonna explode every time I think about you.”

“No, don’t do that, it sounds like it would hurt, Ed.” You stroke his cheek with the backs of your fingers, “Eddie, do you want to go to bed?” You let your hand slip down into his shirt running your finger along his collarbone where his skin is so incredibly soft. You lean down to whisper, again as if in secret, “I saw that piece of foam in the corner of your van, did you maybe have something else planned for us tonight.”

His eyes finally peek open while he giggles goofily, “Maybe, baby, what do you think about that, hmm?” One of his eyes is squinted shut and the other is watching for your reaction. “Want to consummate this thing finally? We’ve got all the time in the world, and no one to bother us.”

Hand in hand, you make your way to your room for the evening. It’s so much cozier than it should be, and you know it’s because Eddie is with you. It takes no time at all for you to get lost in him – surrounded by his scent and touch, he whispers against your skin. You feel so much by the time you’re both under the warm blankets, nude forms pressing against each other while your mouths move in sync.

“I want to try something,” the heat of his breath on your neck has every hair on your body standing on end, he’s stroking your side with whispered touches. “Tell me if you can’t, but I, uh, really want you to sit on my face.”

You’re groan at his words is almost a yelp. You’re throbbing, he’s worked you up with his gentle touching, and you’ve let him. You know it’s worth it, taking your time will ease any pains that might sneak up on you. I really want you to sit on my face. Your rocking hips tell you that you really want that too.

Eddie’s props his head up at an awkward angle. Much higher than could be comfortable, but his features are written with want as he watches you bring your leg over his face. You want to watch him as he strokes himself, but he’s insistent that you face the other way, at least at first. He’s so pretty, pale skin with scatters of ink. His perfect cock, pink and hard as his hand lazily works his length. You do what he asked, trusting him, and face the front of the van resting your hands on the back of the seat.

“Look how pretty she is, she’s crying for me Babe.” You’ve lost the chance to respond when his broad tongue licks against you, dipping inside. And now you know why he wanted it like this, because he pulls you gently down onto his face. His nose nudges at your sensitive and swollen clit while his tongue wastes no time fucking into you. Your hands are at your tits, playing with your nipples because you don’t need to brace yourself, Eddie’s fully got you. Any concern you have about him not being able to breathe is gone when you hear him moaning and his hand stroking his cock even faster.

You want to tell him not to cum, no you want him in your mouth, but your grinding so hard against his mouth and nose seeking your pleasure you don’t have the words. Your orgasm slams into you hard, every muscle in your body tenses, you can feel your thighs trap Eddie’s head even tighter than before. You’re panting and whining as white heat tears through your brain and you spasm around Eddie’s tongue. Wave after wave until you drop against the back of the bench seat. Eddie taps your outer thigh to remind you that you’re, in fact, still sitting on his face.

You waste no time in climbing off of him, a little stiff but the orgasm haze still has you loose. You feel wild with desire when you kiss him and find his face absolutely drenched in your arousal. Like an animal, you lick a stripe up his cheek, tongue rubbing against his stubble. “Please, Eddie, please. I need you inside of me now.”

Eddie looks blissed to the max, and you can see that he came while you were using him. He’s soft, so you climb down to work your mouth against him. You let your tongue pick up his spend, moving around his base to clean his mess.

“Oh, fuck,” he squeaks out at the feel of your mouth. He’s growing hard, his tip starting to weep again, “Baby, stop, I’ll cum again.”

“How do you want me, Eddie.” Your hand is wrapped around his length, and you look up at him through your eyelashes. He can’t believe his eyes. You look like a goddess, mascara smudged under your eyes, nipples hard and pressed against his thigh. It takes a little effort, but he remembers his research and pulls you to him.

The position he has you in is fail proof, and he has no desire to fuck this up. You both need this right now. You’re back pulled into his chest, his mouth has access to your neck. He brushes your hair away and attaches his mouth to your shoulder while shifts and maneuvers your hips to allow him better access. “Tell me if it hurts.”

He presses into you slowly, and his teeth sink into you shoulder. He groans into your skin, your cunt is clenching him with every inch he gives you. He’s grounding himself inside of you while running a hand down your outer thigh brushing against your scars. You rock back into him, you have no words to tell him what you need so you show him.

A hard and slow rhythm, moving together while he reaches deeper and deeper inside of you. A knot forming inside of you, he’s nudging spots you’ve never been able to reach before. You’re both whining out “I love yous”, his fingers against your clit and the bomb detonates. Your orgasm creates lights flashing against your eyelids, tears are running down your cheeks. Eddie’s sobs of pleasure at the feeling of you clamping onto him bring another wave of pleasure. Your third orgasm of the evening has you spent completely, and Eddie stills inside of you.

“Oh my god, Eddie,” you finish your thought with a groan that turns into a little yelp as he pull himself free of you.

“I love you so much,” you turn to find Eddie with tears in his eyes. You lay that way, face to face stroking your faces for an endless amount of time. Sloppy kisses, breath against lips, sweat cooling against your skin while you bask in the glow of your shared love.

Eddie hasn’t told you this yet, but he’s registered for classes at the local community college for the fall. An HVAC program, and he’s already got an apprenticeship lined up. He’ll wait a while to ask, but he’s already signed a lease on an apartment just outside of Hawkins. He needed to find a ground level unit with easy access to a parking lot. It has a little patio where you can put your herb garden.

You haven’t told him yet, either, that you’re ready for everything that comes next, because he’ll be with you.

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x disabled!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson smut #eddie munson stranger things #disability in fanfiction

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slytherinshua · 11 months

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GIRL NEXT DOOR genre ➳ fluff. love at first sight(?) warnings ➳ none. pairing ➳ sungho x fem!reader. wc ➳ 2.6k. a/n ➳ surprise... i write for boynextdoor now!!

You were moving from the big city to a small town. You were less than excited. All the streets looked the same to you. Plain houses built in the 60s lined neatly trimmed yards and sidewalks surrounded cul de sacs. It was the picture perfect suburbia— a small town where you would easily meet everyone your age within the first week going to your new school. You were dreading it.

“It’s so stupid that I’m moving. I’d be surprised if my dad’s new clinic is the only one that town has. They basically snatched him up the moment he accepted the offer.” You said bitterly, sipping on bubble tea with your best friend. It would probably be the last time you’d be able to have a bubble tea date with her for a while. Your heart sank at the thought.

“You’ve spent your entire life here… it’s a shame.” She sympathised, “But, you know what happens when you’re a new girl coming to a small town?”

“What?”

“You’re popular with the cute boys.” She teased.

“Come on- I’d be very surprised if I had anyone with a crush on me. I’ve never been popular.” You said, cringing as it brought back memories of your middle school years. You had gone through crush after crush, never landing on a proper relationship and always being rejected in the most humiliating way until eventually, you learned your lesson. When you got to high school, you forced yourself to stop being interested in boys. The couples making out in the hallway were enough to deter you, though. You would rather die than be that gross in public with your boyfriend. You weren’t one for PDA, that’s for sure.

“New kids either become popular, or stay quiet. There’s nothing about you not to like, so I think you have a good chance at becoming popular.” She reasoned. You thought about it. Your friend was rarely wrong. That’s what was so annoying about her. She was always right about everything. Maybe she would be right about this too.

Your phone binged with a text from your mom and you sighed, “Shit, I’d better go. The movers are here and I need to help move the boxes into the truck.”

“Alright. You’d better text me and call me when you get there. I want a house tour and everything. I’m still your best friend even if I’m 4 hours away.” She smiled and you returned it.

“I’ll keep in touch with you, don’t worry. I’ll text you later! Bye!!” You waved at her and jogged off.

Your family’s apartment had been filled with boxes for almost 2 weeks. Your mom was obsessed with having everything ready to go in advance to reduce the stress. This, of course, only increased your stress every time you looked at your bedroom’s plain walls and brown cardboard boxes stacked on the floor in place of your dresser and desk.

You had transferred all your clothes to a suitcase a week prior after having to sort through them and donate everything that was too small or that you didn’t wear often enough. Fashion had always been something you were interested in and you were already dreading the fashion atrocities you might see in a small town. You doubted they would have good clothes stores either.

You spent the rest of the day hauling boxes into the truck and struggling to help your dad lift the heavy things with the movers. Since you were just slightly stronger and more able bodied than your mom, you had no choice but to help. Moving armchairs down the stairs would be a nightmarish experience that you would remember for weeks, no doubt.

When everything was packed, you collapsed on the floor, tired and muscles aching. You looked around your empty apartment. The walls looked so bare and lonely without your mothers paintings on them. It looked way too clean and way too different. Your entire childhood had been spent living here. 17 years in this old trusty apartment complex.

You remember going over to the lady next door for tea when you were little. She would tell you about her matchmaking business and all the cute couples she had been responsible for. She promised one day to set you up with someone… looks like that plan wouldn’t be working out after all.

You stood up and walked over to her door. You hoped she was there. You wanted to say goodbye before you left tomorrow. Maybe she would offer you tea just like when you were 7.

Sungho peeked out his window with curiosity. The house next to his that had been inhabited by a sweet old couple had finally been sold. He had overheard his parents talking about the new family moving in. Apparently they were going to start a clinic since the father was a family doctor. Sungho wasn’t interested in that, though. What piqued his curiosity was his parents saying that the couple had a daughter. A daughter around his age.

When they had first brought up the topic over dinner, Sungho had shrugged off their teasing about a cute girl moving in. But now he was anxiously looking out his window every 5 minutes, waiting for the moving truck to pull into the driveway of the house.

His father and him were going to help the new family move in. Sungho’s mother had told him it would be a perfect opportunity to introduce himself to you. He was nervous with butterflies in his stomach at the thought. It wasn’t everyday that a new family moved into town. It was a very rare occurrence.

Soon he spotted the red car driving up the cul de sac with a moving truck following closely behind it. He gulped and fixed his hair in the mirror before running down the stairs. He joined his father outside and went through introducing themselves to your father.

He peeked at the car again, wondering if you had already stepped out. You hadn’t, but you soon did. Sungho wished you hadn’t, because shit you were pretty. He gulped and gave your father a smile before offering to grab one of the boxes. He could feel his cheeks heating up the longer he stared at you and forced himself to shake off his stare and look elsewhere. He hoped he didn’t make his pink cheeks too obvious, but he was pretty sure you hadn’t even noticed him yet. Maybe that was for the best.

“Y/n, come introduce yourself to the neighbours!” Your mother called with a smile on her face as she talked to Sungho’s parents.

You groaned and walked over, keeping your head down for the most part. You hoped they weren’t some country bumpkins who would insist on your family joining the town’s monthly potluck after a church service.

“Hello, Y/n, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Mrs. Park,” You nodded with a slightly forced smile. The lady seemed nice, honestly, but you weren’t in the best mood for socialising. You desperately wanted to set up the wi-fi at your new house so you could text your friend, but your parents would scold you if they knew that was the only thing you were thinking.

“And this is Sungho. You two are the same age.” Mrs. Park said happily, beckoning Sungho over to say hello. You looked up, slightly intrigued by what the boys were like in this new town. And Sungho did not disappoint. You couldn’t deny that he was handsome. Very handsome.

“Hi.” You smiled and waved a little. He waved back with a little lopsided smile that you could only assume was out of nervousness. He looked nice dressed in a denim jacket and hair brushed back but still a little messy from the light breeze tousling it. He must have caught you staring cause his smile widened slightly making his eyes crinkle into a cute eye smile. Fuck, why did you think he was cute?

Sungho and his dad helped move the heavy stuff into your new house. You were relieved the task wasn’t placed on you this time. While they were busy, you walked through the house, adjusting to the thought that this was your new home. Your room was bigger than before and even had a big window facing the Park’s house. Your brain automatically wondered whether it was Sungho’s room that you could see through your window. If all the houses in this town were built similarly, then it could be the case.

“Your room looks nice.” You turned around to Sungho with a big box in his hand. He set it down on the hardwood floor with a smile. “Do you want help unpacking?”

“Uh, sure! I’m not the strongest so… getting my bed and dresser in here would be a struggle.” You admitted.

“I’ll grab them for you.”

After your first night in your new house you realised that Sungho’s bedroom was indeed the one facing yours. He stayed up late, just like you. It was around 6 weeks later and both your lights were on still, even though it was around 11 pm. You were lying on your bed, trying to count sheep to help you fall asleep. Except all your sheep strangely morphed into Sungho because he was all you could think of.

Your family had eaten dinner with the Parks a lot of times so far, and you would say you were fairly adjusted to the new town. You didn’t go out much unless it was for a bike ride or to the library, but it wasn’t as bad as you thought. Since it was still summer and you were too introverted to want to go out and hunt for friends, the only person who you knew was Sungho. You talked a lot in your backyard or his. You caught him wearing a necklace that you had wanted for a long time and found out he was interested in fashion as well from the encounter.

It was like the most you discovered about him, the more you had in common. You even liked the same idol groups and were fans of the same authors. How did you even manage to get this lucky with your neighbour? Plus, the more you hung around him, the more you thought he was cute.

You peeked out your window to see if he was visible from his window. He was. He was sitting at his desk and the lamp on it perfectly illuminated his face so you could see all the details of it.

“I should’ve asked for his number by now, darnit.” You mumbled to yourself. You hadn’t thought of it before since you lived right next to each other, but it wasn’t like you could go over this late at night. You’d have to improvise. You thought for a second before searching through one of your unpacked boxes for your sketchbook. Usually you would doodle outfits that you thought you would look good in in this sketchbook, but for now, it was going to serve a different purpose. You got out a sharpie and started writing in large, easy to read text.

Do you stay up late a lot?

You thought it would be awkward to put a simple ‘hi’ or ‘hey’ so you stuck to a question that he could answer. It took some courage to stand where he could see you from his window and hold up the sign, but you managed.

It didn’t take very long for him to look up from his desk and notice the sign. You watched him read it and then make eye-contact with you, his charming smile overtaking his features again. He stood up and went somewhere else in his room, presumably to grab paper and a pen. Soon he was back and he held up the sign in response to yours.

Yeah. If it bothers you that my light is on, I can turn it off :)

It doesn’t bother me. I usually stay up late as well.

He smiled again, looking down at his desk as his cheeks tinted a bit. He hoped you didn’t notice. Was it weird that he already liked you so much? He was suddenly reminded of how his past crush had been stolen by another boy right in front of his eyes. His friends had told him he hadn’t been direct enough and that was why she had chosen someone more straightforward. But he had just been too shy to confess directly. He didn’t want to repeat that mistake again, so he took a breath and gathered some stored up courage, picking up his pen again.

Can I have your number?

He held up the sign nervously, one hand anxiously fiddling with his shirt as he waited for your response. You shouldn’t be too opposed, right?

I was just about to ask you! It’s *** *** **** :)

You were smiling as widely as he was which both calmed his heart and made it beat faster. What if you liked him too? What if you thought he was cute? What if he had the same effect that you had on him? He shook off all of his thoughts, telling himself that he was getting ahead of himself.

He carefully copied your number into a new contact and sent a simple ‘hey, it’s sungho’ to make sure he got it down correctly. You felt almost giddy receiving the first text from him. You had given your number to your crush just like that? And he had asked you for it? The thought had your cheeks heating up again.

It was past 1 and you were still texting him. It was hard to want to stop, he was just so cute, even over text. Whenever he thought he overstepped, he would apologise so fast until you told him that it was fine. It felt different from talking to him over the past 6 weeks. It felt way more like talking to a crush than talking to a friend, which didn’t help your bad case of lovesickness.

When you started to yawn, you decided you should probably say goodnight to him. He must be tired as well.

i’m a bit tired, i think i’m gonna go to sleep for the night - Y/n 1:21am

ok! sleep well, y/n!! - Sungho 1:21am

btw - Y/n 1:21am

yeah? - Sungho 1:22am

you’re really cute - Y/n 1:22am

goodnight! - Y/n 1:22am

You turned off your phone quickly, eyes a bit wide as you wondered why you had sent that last text. Where did you even get the confidence? God, what if he thought you were weird. He probably only saw you as a friend, or worse, the new annoying neighbour girl. You groaned at your stupidity and peeked at your phone again. He had read the text, but hadn’t replied.

“Shit, I really messed up.” You felt like smacking your head against the wall. What were you thinking?!

I think you’re cute too - Sungho 1:26am

You blinked, and then blinked again. Oh. You put down your phone and shut your eyes, willing yourself to go to sleep and not think about it too much. You could always wake up tomorrow and realise that this was a whole big misunderstanding or something. There was no way that Sungho really thought you were cute, right? But what if he did?

You opened your eyes again, looking at the texts with him again.

sleep well cutie <3 - Sungho 1:27am

You failed to get to sleep that night. So did Sungho.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ boynextdoor taglist: open!

#slytherinshua fics 🍰#sungho #park sungho #boynextdoor #boynextdoor sungho #boynextdoor park sungho #boynextdoor fic #boynextdoor fluff #sungho fic #park sungho fic #park sungho fluff #boynextdoor sungho fic #boynextdoor sungho fluff #boynextdoor x reader #boynextdoor sungho x reader #sungho x reader #fluff #fic #fanfic

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theapangea · 10 months

Text

Alcoholics Anonymous

Lip Gallagher x Reader

Summery: You and Lip meet at an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting.

Warnings: Alcohol abuse, talk of religion

It’s a part of you and always will be.

The addiction that still runs every little part of your life. Even if it’s been years, it will always be there, dormant in a small, dark part of your brain until it becomes awaken by some outside cause that sweeps you off your feet and ultimately fucks you over. The yearning for the taste will always live somewhere deep inside of you.

Alcohol is your addiction and you are an addict.

And no matter the length of time that you spend at these meetings, week after week while you work on yourself, all you will ever be is an addict. Addicted to not only the alcohol but the repetitiveness of your life now after the drinking.

The question is…when will you finally let it consume you?

The sound of clapping pulls you from your internal monologue. Realizing you haven’t been paying any attention to the other members talking about their road to recovery. It was all the same anyway - though you’d never say that outloud.

Always some stupid, awful event that got them into heavy drinking and now they are trying to pick up all the little pieces. The sad part is that most of them are going to relapse sooner or later.

Tapping your foot on the fake wood floor of the high school gym, shiny from the recent wax job. Scanning the familiar faces as you try to guess who is going to succumb to the madness first. Your guess is the cat lady that is sitting a couple of chairs away from you. She’s been taking an awful lot about one of her cars getting super sick, she’ll definitely need a drink if it dies.

“Thank you for sharing,” Reverend Mills' voice echoes through the gymnasium, sending a gracious smile at the older gentleman as they meet at the podium. Their hands meeting as the Reverend mumbles a prayer. Like God is going to help stop him from drinking, you can practically see the metal flask in his jacket pocket. Damn, these people are just getting stupider.

Tilting your head back, letting your hair fall behind the plastic seat, arms crossed over your chest as you wait for this hour to end. You like these meetings when the people actually take the system seriously. You are tired of all of the people who use this group as a revolving door.

“Would anyone else care to share,” His eyes wander along the long faces until they finally land on you, clearly not paying any attention. Your name falling from his mouth, not really asking but telling you that it was your turn.

A half-ass smile pulls across your mouth as you grudgingly stand up and make your way to the front of the group. It was inevitable for you to speak at every meeting. You are the one with the longest days sober and Reverend Mills likes your story, says it’s inspiring or whatever.

Fingernails picking at the edges of the wooden podium as you take a deep breath before speaking.

“Hi everyone, I’m Y/N.” The fake smile and tone of voice is very apparent to everyone.

The group saying hello in unison back to you.

You begin, “I have been sober for almost 2 years… to be specific, 1 year, 10 months and,” counting on your fingers, “13 days as of today.” Pausing as the group claps at your accomplishment.

Continuing, “I can’t believe how slow times go now that I’m sober. I used to feel like I lost days, weeks even to drinking. Waking up on a Sunday morning not remembering the past week, knowing that I’d probably forget the week after.” A laugh from a few of the members as you joke about an all too common side effect of drinking. “Looking back on these two ye-”

The sudden squeak of the entrance doors interrupts your speech. Rolling your eyes as you and the group watch the young man struggle to close the door without making more sound, unfortunately for him (and you), he couldn’t. The squeaking sound booming with every inch as he pulls it closed, finally a sense of relief washes over his body when it’s done.

Adjusting the backpack on his shoulder as he turns around to notice all the people staring at him in silence. Mouthing a quiet curse and apologizes as both of his hands shoot up in front of him before he hurries to one of the back seats.

Ironically the plastic chair creaks when he finally sits down, a huff of annoyance escaping him.

You can’t help but just stare. Your mind is completely blank as you notice his messy hair and tight jeans. Only realizing you had been staring a bit too long when his eyes meet yours. The tiny spark makes you gulp as you quickly look away.

“Please continue, Y/N.” The Reverend encourages you to continue your story.

“Sorry, yeah.” Shaking your head to gather your thoughts again as you struggle not to look in the direction of the man practically sitting in your frontal view, “Looking back on these two years of sobriety, I find it almost crazy that I was able to put myself first. That I was able to overcome my addiction. And it’s funny, the thing most people don’t tell you is that you never stop wanting alcohol. It’s always there, the little voice in the back of your mind saying it’s ok for you to have one, little, tiny sip. Won’t do any harm. But it will, to people like us, it will. It’s hard, not impossible. Thank you.”

A quick flash of a smile to the group before quickly moving back to your seat, a wave of applause follows after you. The Reverend starts to talk about sobriety and ends the meeting with a group prayer.

As everyone’s heads are lowered, you take the chance to look back over your shoulder at the boy sitting in the back, the one who interrupted your speech. Though semi-happy as you were able to cut it shorter than normal.

Peering over your left shoulder, head turning slowly as you try not to make it too obvious, finding that he was already staring at you. A cheeky smile engulfing his face instantly makes you blush as you immediately turn your head back around. Embarrassed beyond belief that he caught you sneaking another look at him.

You groan silently to yourself as the Reverend ends the prayer and a unison ‘Amen’ circles the room. Crossing your arms as you lean deeper into the chair, eyes fixated on the floor as you watch the dozen or so shoes scramble to depart.

“Amazing speech, Y/N.” Reverend Mills compliments as he walks up to you. His shoes a black leather loafer, “Like always.”

Looking up at him to respond, “Well if you keep making me talk at every meeting, I’m going to run out of things to say.”

His face is kind, soft features and years of wrinkles form into a warm smile. You aren’t trying to be mean by your statement, but tired of the never ending cycle of the program.

“There’s always more to your stories, you just chose to skip over those parts.” The Reverend implies, as he knows more about you than you tell to the group. Confiding in him through the course of these couple of years. He has good intentions, you are just wary of everyone.

Pulling your attention, “There is someone I want you to meet.” Nodding his head, signaling for you to stand and follow him, “Lip!” Practically shouting over the group, waving for him to come over to the two of you.

You can’t tell right away who he is yelling for until the young man from before, the one who caught you staring, starts to walk over to the both of you. Two cookies wrapped in a napkin in one hand and a styrofoam cup in the other.

You can practically feel the bleed leave your face, leaving you in a ghostly, shocked state.

“Lip, this is the girl I was telling you about.” Reverend Mills says as he gestures towards you. “Lip, this is Y/N and Y/N this is Lip.”

Lip places the styrofoam cup in his mouth, with the edge with his teeth as his now free hand extends out in front of you. A couple of beats pass as you don’t move, your eyes locked onto him as he nods his head for you to shake his hand. His blue eyes are even more piercing up close. Gulping as you slowly reach for his hand, the firm shake completed by him as you still are unable to move. The touch is electrifying.

The Reverend lets out a light laugh when the hand shake is over, obviously picking up on the awkwardness between you and Lip. “So Y/N, I was wondering if you’d like to be his sponsor.”

The comment quickly pulls you into reality. A sponsor? You barely want to coach yourself everyday not to pick up the bottle and now you may have to make sure someone else stays on their path. “Oh, I don’t know…” You trail off, the uncertainty lingering long after your voice stops.

“I think that you two would be a great fit.” Mills insists as he places a hand on your shoulder, “Lip needs help and I think you can relate to him.”

Well now you feel obligated to do it. Great.

You scan Lip up and down as you try to study who he is as a person. Cocky, annoying, smart. Huffing as you speak, “How long have you been sober.”

“Two-ish hours.” He mumbles before taking a bit of his cookie, following with a big gulp of his drink.

“Reverend, really?” You plead. Knowing that this was absolutely ridiculous.

“Just see if you can push him in the right direction.” The Reverend states before walking away, attending to the other members. Leaving you and Lip, standing in front of each other to figure this new situation out.

Breathing loud through your nose, clearly annoyed, unable to conceal any part of your disappointment from Lip.

“Look princess, I clearly don’t want to be here either but I’ve got this court thing-” Lip begins, mouth still full of chocolate chip cookie.

Cutting Lip off, “I get you don’t want to be here and I really don’t want to help you. But I’ll be your sponsor to help out Reverend Mills, that’s it.” You state firmly before walking away, only to back track to your original spot, “As for the drinking, it ends today. We’ll start next week.” Finally walking away for good.

Leaving Lip, cookie and coffee in hand, as his body desperately craves a drink.

~~~

I'm seriously so happy with this story series idea. Let me know what you think!! Also let me know if you wanna be tagged in the next part!!

Thank you for reading and supporting me!! I LOVE YOU!!!

#lip gallagher imagine #lip gallagher x reader #lip gallagher #lip gallagher fanfic #lip gallagher angst #shameless fanfic #shameless x reader #theapangea #Alcoholics Anonymous series

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upon-a-starry-night · 10 months

Text

Number Neighbors Pt.2

Natasha x Fem!Reader

Natasha Masterlist Series Masterlist

Pt.1

Word Count: 1.1k

Summary: When you catch sight of the newest trend going around you know you’re all but bound to at least try it, it was harmless anyway. What could possibly stem from something so little?

To give you some credit, you’d lasted virtually all week long and had managed to only reread the messages sent between you two thirteen times, but your curiosity once again got the better of you, so here you were sitting on your couch rewatching Criminal Minds for the 5th time when you picked up your phone and typed out a quick message

Unknown Contact

Y/n:

Are you a man or a woman?

Or is that classified?

You snickered to yourself at the tv show reference. Much to your surprise the response was immediate, although on a Friday evening, you supposed they probably had nothing better to do. Actually, scratch that- a lot of people had plenty to do on Friday nights you were just a loner, but maybe they were too? Your stomach fluttered a bit, it would be nice to have someone to relate to.

Maybe that’s why you couldn’t delete the number- it’s been a long time since you’ve had a real conversation with someone other than coworkers and family. And that wasn’t to say they weren’t nice but… you did get pretty lonely by yourself, this random stranger on the internet at least brought something interesting to your life.

Unknown Contact

Unknown:

A woman.

Y/n:

Nice! Me too!

I’m glad you’re a woman cause if you were a man I might have to stop talking to you

Unknown:

Why?

Y/n:

Because you could be a pedo

And I trust women more than men B)

Unknown:

I can understand that.

But women can also be dangerous

Y/n:

True.

So how was your week?

Unknown:

I thought I told you

To lose this number?

Y/n:

Awe come one :(

I thought we had something

Unknown:

What?

Y/n:

This could be the start of something new

Unknown:

Did you just quote High School Musical?

Y/n: Maybe 😐

You anxiously watched the three dots appear and then disappear multiple times, after they’d disappeared for a full minute you decided maybe she was finally done talking to you and you put your phone down, at least you’d gotten a little bit of information about her.

You got up from the couch and grabbed some ice cream from the freezer, not even bothering with putting it in a bowl since you lived alone and had no one to share it with. Tragic.

You were two scoops in when your phone chimed again and you nearly threw your ice cream to pick it up, you really shouldn’t be this desperate to text a stranger on the internet but your life was boring and this was the only thing you really had to look forward to.

Unknown contact

Unknown:

my week was long and very boring

How was yours?

Y/n:

Pretty much the same

I’m glad it’s Friday though

I’m spending the whole weekend on the couch In my pajamas

To further emphasize your point you took a quick photo of your fluffy duck sock-clad feet resting on the coffee table, you could faintly make out the show playing in the background and the tub of ice cream was also sitting on the table.

So much for not sending feet pics- at least they were covered!

It wasn't too personal, it didn’t give away anything about what you looked like or where you lived, it was simply an insight into how you were going to spend your time off. With a little hesitation, you finally sent the picture, hoping she couldn’t track you with her FBI skills

Unknown Contact

Unknown:

Wow, it looks like you’ve got a busy weekend ahead of you.

Is that a whole tub of ice cream on the table?

Y/n:

Hey! There will be no shaming here

This is a safe space ;(

Unknown:

Sorry

I didn’t mean for that to sound judgmental

Y/n:

Nah you’re good, I’m just messing around

Hey, is it too much for me to ask for your name?

I’m just tired of seeing “unknown”

Unknown:

I’m not sure If that’s a good idea.

Y/n: I’ll give you mine if you give me yours?

Deal?

Unknown:

Deal.

But you have to say yours first

Y/n:

what?! but I asked first!

Unknown:

what are you five?

Y/n:

I’m 22

Unknown:

Congrats?

Y/n:

fuck off!😃

Unknown:

Lmao

Y/n:

Fine I guess I’ll go first because I’m the bigger person😤

Unknown:

uh huh

Y/n:

I can feel the sarcasm from here

Unknown:

Good

Now hurry up before your ice cream melts

Y/n:

Alright! alright!

-For your information I'm eating and texting.

My name is Y/n

Unknown:

you can call me Nat

Y/n:

Cool! It’s nice to meet you, Nat!

I assume Nat is short for something?

Unknown:

Yep.

Y/n:

Aaand you’re not going to tell me are you?

Unknown:

Nope!

Y/n:

Alright fair

Y/n changed your contact name to “ Nat💼”

Nat💼:

why a briefcase?

Y/n:

because you’re an FBI agent

Duh

Nat💼:

I’m way cooler than an FBI agent

Y/n:

fine, you’re so picky

Y/n changed your contact name to “Nat🔪”

Y/n:

how’s that?

Nat🔪 changed your contact name to “Y/n🍦”

Nat🔪:

it’s perfect.

Y/n🍦:

Good

You check the time on your phone, the small numbers reading 11:30 PM as your eyes droop, usually you stayed up late on weekends but it really had been a long week and you were worn out. Although you were sad you couldn’t text Nat longer, whoever she was she seemed like someone you’d get along with in person. Sarcastic and witty were your type of person. And also just your type.

Y/n🍦:

Well it’s getting to be my bedtime

Nat🔪:

Five-year-old.

Y/n🍦:

Shut up at least I’m not 40 years old like you

Nat🔪:

True.

Y/n:

WAit- are you actually?

Nat:

I’m in my 20’s

Y/n🍦:

Well thank you for sharing but I’m still going to bed

Nat🔪:

How do you even sleep after watching stuff like that?

Y/n🍦:

Stuff like what?

Nat🔪:

Criminal minds

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, your fingers scrolling up and clicking on the picture you’d sent. There was a small corner of the tv in the photo, and the show could certainly be recognized by someone who’d seen it before but Nat claimed she’d never watched it. You shivered, maybe she really was an FBI agent.

Y/n🍦:

That’s really creepy

How’d you know?

Nat🔪:

I’m just good at stuff like that.

Y/n🍦:

FBI agent.

Nat🔪:

Five-Year-Old.

Y/n🍦:

Whatever!

Goodnight Nat!

Nat🔪:

Goodnight Y/n

Sleep well

Pt.3

A/n: Do we like this format or the other one better? pls lmk ASAP so I can change one & continue uploading chapters!! thnx ~Starry

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xenyasplacex · 21 days

Text

Mama’s Girl Part 1

Summary: Chris Navigating being a single dad to a teenage girl until an unexpected visitor arrives

Warnings: Swearing, Crying, Underage drinking, Drug use (weed), Teenage pregnancy, toxic parents, talks of comas. Lmk if i’ve missed anything

A/N: THIS IS NOT A PREGNANCY TROPE. This chapter makes it seem like one but it is not. i didn’t write this Chapter, my best friend did and has asked me to continue the story because she quit tumblr. I’ll try and get the next part out asap.

Adria Pronunciation : Ahh, deer, ahh

PRESENT DAY

“It's okay baby come on,” Chris said as he gently moved his extremely high daughter up the stairs as she continued to bawl her eyes out.

“I’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry” She repeated over and over again as she clung onto her dads night shirt.

It broke Chris’ heart to see his little girl this upset. He forever cursed the day her mother left. He cursed it because it meant that Adira was never given a proper mother child relationship that she needed. It meant that she was subject to such heavy bullying because she never knew what the love of a mother felt like. It meant that she forever blamed herself for seeing her Father crumbling because the love of his life had vanished. It meant that when she was only 5 she had to bang on Matt’s door with her little fists in tears because she couldn't wake her dad up. It meant that at 4 she had to knock on Nick’s door and ask him to take her to school because her dads bedroom door was locked. It meant that Chris almost ruined his whole career by nearly having his own child ripped from his hands.

But after years of trying hard to fix himself up and care for his daughter, he and Adira were finally happy it had all been destroyed by one singular phone call. A phone call that brought back all those old emotions that Adira had been suppressing. Those feelings of guilt, sadness, and anger came rushing back but now she had a way to get rid of those feelings.

Weed.

Chris didn’t know where she got it from or where she got the money for it, but Chris knew weed and he knew that it would have had to be pretty damn strong to put here in this state.

“I ruined everything, dad I'm so so sorry. I've never done it before I promise, I'm just tired of feeling sad, I'm so so tired” She cried as they got to the top of the staircase.

Chris’ heart broke once again.

“It’s okay baby, this is hard on you I know it is. It’s gonna be okay.” He cooed as he helped her to her bedroom.

He very gently laid her on her bed, wiping her tears away with his thumb as he fought with himself to keep his own tears at bay. Sometimes he hated how much she looked like her because it was a constant reminder of what he had lost. Don’t get him wrong, Chris loved his daughter with every single bone in his body and thought she was the most beautiful girl in the world, but he also loved her mother. He loved her mother more than he could even fathom and though people always said she looked like Chris he couldn’t help but see so much of her mother in her.

He gently took off her shoes, putting them in her wardrobe before sitting her up against her headboard and using a makeup wipe to wipe away the makeup she was wearing, wiping away tears that fell in the process.

“Okay baby, let's get you into bed now,” Chris said as he laid her back down on the bed and put the blanket over. Adira only cried harder at that, “What’s wrong baby?” he asked, pushing her hair away from her face.

“Please don’t leave me, I'm scared of being alone please don’t leave me alone.” Adira gripped onto Chris’ hand desperate for some sort of presence in the room with her.

“I’m not going anywhere Bambi, I'm just gonna tuck you in and I'm gonna stay right here.” Chris whispered as he calmed his daughter down and then laid beside her, allowing her to snuggle up into his side and lay there till she fell asleep.

2 WEEKS INTO PREGNANCY

“Hey, Y/n…you okay? You look…nervous,” Justin asked as he stepped out of the way for her to enter.

“Yeah, yeah I'm fine. Urm is Chris here? I really need to talk to him.” Y/n asked, playing with the bracelets on her wrists as a way of trying to calm herself down.

“Yeah, he’s in his room,” Justin said as he pointed upstairs. Justin had always viewed Y/n as a little sister, he really did care for her deeply and seeing her this distressed really just didn’t sit right with him. He knew something was up but he also knew Y/n would simply shut down if he dared say anything so he just let her go, hoping that he would somehow get to the bottom of whatever it is that was bugging her.

Y/n didn’t bother knocking on Chris’ door, she gently opened the door and spotted him at his computer typing away at something.

“Hey Chris,” Y/n started as she gently shut and locked his door. She couldn’t afford any sort of distractions from the rest of Chris’ family. She needed this to happen and she needed it to happen now.

Chris momentarily looked up before going back to his computer screen, “Hey babe, just give me one second to finish this post and ill be right with you.”

Y/n sat on his bed nervous as ever, trying to rehearse what she was going to say. How exactly do you tell your boyfriend he accidentally got you pregnant at 17 and your parents are just about ready to kill him? And how was she supposed to prepare for his reaction? Chris’ could decide to run. He could decide he didn’t want to be a part of this child's life, he could decide to break up with her on the spot. He could…

“What’s up mama,” Chris interrupted her thought as he crashed onto his bed next to her, a love sick smile plastered on his face. She winced at the word ‘Mama’ knowing that it was now or never.

“Chris’ i need to tell you something and it’s really important.” Y/n said quietly as tears started to well in her eyes. Chris noticed this and his mind immediately went to what he thought was the worst,

“Did you cheat on me?” He asked, looking down.

“What? No, why would you even think that.”

“Are you breaking up with me?”

“No, but I might if you don’t shut up.” Chris looked up at her confused. “Then what is it?”

Y/n took a deep breath, she needed to tell him before it was too late.

She looked him dead in the eye, a single tear falling as she whispered

“I’m pregnant Chris.”

Present day

Half an hour later, Chris was crying in his brother's bed as he clung onto Nick. They had been in this position before, Adira asleep in one room and Chris having a breakdown in the other.

“It’s not your fault Chris,” Nick whispered as he gently moved his curls out of his face “You couldn’t have done anything to stop it. She snuck out, it's not your fault.”

“I got Y/n pregnant, I put her in that coma, i didn’t step up as a father to Adira until it was almost too late. And now she’s high as a kite in her room. All this is my fault, i fucked everything up.” Chris cried.

Nick could only attempt to comfort him the best he could, trying to be as quiet as possible not to wake Adira up.

“She’s gonna be okay Chris, everything's gonna be okay.” Nick soothes

“they said she asked for me. She asked to see me. I don't think I can do it, Nick.” Chris chuckled a bit, “It’s sort of funny, for years i begged her to wake up and now she’s finally up i can’t bring myself to see her.”

Nick knew he was only laughing as a coping mechanism but he still put a smile on his face, When he heard the news that Y/n had woken up, it was like everything in the world stopped. He didn’t even get any more news before he threw his phone on the floor, smashing it in the process. Luckily Matt just happened to be in the room with him and had taken control of the current situation, getting the information needed form the doctor and trying to calm Chris down from the panic attack he was very clearly having.

Nick tightened his grip on his crying brother and simply whispered “It’s okay Chris, everything will be okay.”

8 WEEKS INTO PREGNANCY

“What do you mean you’re leaving the school?” Chris questioned as his Girlfriend sat on his bed, watching him pace around his bedroom

“My parents want me out before anyone can notice, they said i'm starting to show and that some people were confused as to why i went from wearing tank tops to hoodies. They just want to be safe. They said homeschooling was the best option for me.” Y/n replied, struggling to keep her eyes open.

“Yeah, well what do you think?” Chris asked and Y/n stopped. Come to think of it, so far she hadn’t really been asked what she thought about much regarding the pregnancy. Her mother had forced the brand new clothes, brand new curfew, brand new extracurriculars, brand new skin appointments. She sorted out all the artificial things whereas her dad made sure that there were cameras all over the house. He installed locks that only he had the key for, he boarded up certain windows to shop for any sort of ‘unneeded attention’. She had no say in how she felt, what she wanted, what restrictions she felt were going too far. She didn't even get a say in whether she wanted to keep the pregnancy or not so she hadn’t really thought about what she thought about the whole ordeal.

“I don’t wanna not see you or my friends throughout the day, you guys are the only thing in my life that brings me any sort of joy right now, but i also don't want to ruin my parents name. I can’t be the downfall to their success Chris… I just can't.” Y/n’s parents (Lilly and Tommy) owned a major law firm, one that was currently making insane amounts of money but even a small scandal such as a teenage pregnancy could potentially affect their number of clients and so the couple had opted to hide her pregnancy until Y/n the 2 can be passed of as a sister or cousin.

“I hate this so much Chris. I hate that this pregnancy is ruining my senior year. I hate that I feel guilty about not wanting a child yet, I hate that I've dragged you into this, I hate that your family might view you differently now, I hate that I've strained your youtube career, I just… i just hate all of this”Y/n confessed, finally getting everything off her chest.

Chris just walked over to her and rapped his hands around her waist and whispered into her ear, “I'm gonna visit you everyday. I’ll bring Matt and Nick too, and we're gonna help you through everything. We’re gonna make sure you’re not isolated at all. We’re gonna pick out baby clothes, we’re gonna find out the gender together, we’re gonna stay up for hours talking about baby names, we’re gonna be okay. Imma get my papers straight and imma come straight to you baby, i promise. How does that sound?

No answer

“Y/n?” Chris asked as he looked down to see her asleep.

Fatigue, Chris thought to himself as he layed her down on his bed and threw a blanket over her, finally letting her sleep.

11 WEEKS INTO PREGNANCY

“Are you out of your mind?” Mary-Lou screamed at Lilly and Tommy, “How dare you even consider such a horrible thing!”

“Mary-lou, I understand this may be hard for you to understand but this is what needs to happen. Think of everything this pregnancy has put at stake. Separating Y/n and Chris may be the best option right now.”

“That child has 2 parents, one of which is Chris who is willing to care for both Y/n and the baby. How dare you try to take that from him!” Jimmy exclaimed

Chris’ grip on Y/n’s hand tightened and his other hand continued to stroke her hair as they listened to the argument that their parents were having downstairs.

“This is such bullshit!” Matt exclaimed from his seat on his couch, “I mean neither of you want to be separated and Y/n isn’t gonna want to go through a pregnancy alone so why would they even consider separating the 2 of you?”

“They’re trying to ignore the whole thing. Stop the chances of anyone finding out and I guess getting rid of Chris was the best way of doing that. I mean then I have nobody to go baby clothes shopping with or complete ultra sounds and stuff like that, reducing the chance of me wanting to do them.”

“That still doesn't make it right, or fair! I mean, i don't understand wh-”

“Christopher, Y/n! Get down here at once!” Tommy screamed

“Good luck,” Nick said to the pair as they got up and made their way downstairs. Lilly was sat on one side of the large dining table and Tommy was stood behind her and Jimmy and Mary-lou were both on the other side of the table.

“Christopher, i know this may be hard on both of you but we have decided that it would be best if you and Y/n are to be separated for a little time, then when the baby come we can schedule meeting times and-”

“No. Absolutely not. You’re not taking my child or my girlfriend from me.” Chris stated firmly. He wasn’t going to back down. He knew if he wanted this he would have to fight for it. He couldn’t back down. He needed to show them they had no right to chose his life for him.

“Oh for goodness sake child!” Tommy exclaimed, “Look at your life! You're in high school! You play lacrosse instead of focusing on your grades. Your parents aren’t the richest of them all. You have a blood youtube channel! You are in no position to raise a child. You just can’t. Boys like you always think they can do it and then they just run off leaving the girl and the child. I won't let that happen. I can’t afford a child like you to ruin my life. I can-” “Dad just shut up!” Y/n screamed back. “If Chris can’t see me I'm not going home with you. This is his child too, you can’t just take that away from, and for once in your life can you just stop about your stupid reputation and think about what you are doing.”

“What do you mean you're not coming home?” Lilly questioned, ignoring everything else her daughter had told her.

“I mean i’m not coming home.”

“Y/n if you do this we are cutting all ties with you. We are cutting you off both financially and emotionally and you are getting rid of that child's only stable grandparents. Do you really want to do that?”

If that's what it takes for Chris to stay in this child's life then so be it.”

PRESENT DAY

The next morning Adira woke up with the worst headache she had ever had. Stumbling downstairs she was met with Nick and Matt arguing over what the correct way to make frnch toast was.

“Nick, you're such an idiot, it's painful. You can’t put nutmeg in french toast!”

“Just because you can’t cook doesn't mean I'm an idiot Bernard!” “Damn Uncle Matt, you can’t let that one slide!” Adira said, making the pair jump and turn around.

“Hey Bambi, how are you feeling?” Nick asked, walking up to her and pulling her into a hug.

“Bad, everythings a little…loud right now. Where's dad?”

“In the garden, i think you should go see him” Matt chimed in, pointing towards the back door where she could see her dad playing with Tessa, their dog.

She slowly made her way out the house and into the garden preparing for a lecture from her dad, but when Chris saw her he simply smiled and tapped the spot of grass that was next to him, indicating that she should sit with him.

As she did so she quickly said, “I’m sorry dad, I really don’t know what happened last night.” She said looking down.

“It’s okay Adi, I know, it's okay.” He said ruffling her curls a bit before he went back to stroking Tessa. “I do need to talk to you though.” He said looking down a bit caused Adira’s heart to drop a little.

“I think I'm going to go and see your mom. I know she’s probably confused but I just think I have to do this. For me, for you and for her. We can’t avoid this forever Adi. I just… I have to do it. I have to overcome whatever fear this is. You take your time okay. Let me know when you’re ready to see her and I'll take you,I just…I can't wait any longer.” Chris said quietly. He expected Adira to cry, maybe get mad or just walk away from him all together but instead she gently brought her dad into a hug.

“It’s okay dad, I get it. Do what you think is right.”

Chris just broke down at that. She understood. She understood.

“I love you Bambi. More than anything in the whole world, and im so proud that your my daughter.” Chris whispered as some tears dropped.

“I love you too dad. So much.”

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #Spotify

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yonkimint · 1 year

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Without You [Yoongi x Reader, Hobi x Reader]

24. No Take Backs ✎

Yoongi drops his phone as black spots swim across his vision. His blood runs cold and he feels so dizzy. He doesn’t notice his phone ricochet off his thigh and onto the floor. He doesn’t register the brush of y/n’s fingers on his arm or when she asks if he’s okay.

How do you think Seojun even exists?

After learning that Hobi was not the father of y/n’s child, he had been relieved. It still stung that she would hook up with some random guy after what they had had together but at least it was a one off thing. He had even taken comfort that she hadn’t bothered to contact the father but…

y/n had taken extreme measures to keep Seojun a secret from him. The Dumpling. Seojun. That name.

The alarm clock reads 2:38 AM. Yoongi isn’t surprised. He usually doesn’t sleep very well when he’s up against a deadline and this one is worse because this is the first album without Hobi. Namjoon has tried to pick up some of the load but he and Yoongi can't do the work of one and a half people forever.

But that’s not what’s woken him up this time. He’s already reaching across the mattress for y/n but he pauses, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of her. Bathed in the silver moonlight, she’s the most beautiful thing Yoongi has ever seen.

Her hair is a wild mess across the pillow and most of her face. When he moves to brush the hair away, he can see the drool leaking from the corner of her lips. It might have grossed him out if it wasn’t her but even this is endearing. He grins, swiping at her chin with the pad of his thumb, and she stirs.

“Yoongi?” she breathes. Her eyebrows scrunch together and she starts to stretch. The sheets slip a little down her chest as she moves. Yoongi normally wouldn’t mind leaving her exposed, loving the curves of her body, but he knows how she hates being cold when she’s sleepy so he pulls them back up around her.

“Go back to sleep, baby?”

He leans up to kiss her forehead, to soothe her back to sleep, but her eyelids are already fluttering open. Her smile when she sees him hovering over her is so sweet Yoongi feels like it might break his heart.

“If you’re awake, I’m awake,” she says sleepily, “Is everything okay?”

She slips her arm free of the sheets to trace the tired lines of his face. He leans his cheek into her warm palm and lets his eyes slip shut. He wishes all the time that he could freeze them in these moments. He wishes he could bring himself to tell her how in love he is but she’s told him repeatedly that she can’t have anything serious while she’s in school and besides he travels all the time so it works out for both of them.

For now, it’s enough just to have her in his bed.

“I just had an interesting dream and I wanted to hold you,” he admits, settling on his side beside her and draping his arm across her waist. He pulls her closer to him and nuzzles his face into the space where her neck slopes into her collarbone and inhales the sweet scent of her.

y/n’s fingers tangle in his hair as she hums. He presses his lips to her skin.

“A good dream or a bad dream?” she asks.

“Depends on who you ask,” he says, “We were parents.”

“Together?” y/n asks, her fingers stilled against his scalp.

“Yep!”

“Hmm.” Her answer is noncommittal. She doesn’t know Yoongi loves her like that. She’s never told him she feels that way about him. It’s hard to talk about a future when your entire relationship is based on the casualness of it. She wonders why Yoongi is bringing it up at all.

“Don’t you want to know how many kids we had?” he asks.

“How many?” she asks and carefully begins carding through his silky hair again. He dyed it black again a few weeks ago and he’s been growing it out for her. Management keeps asking him to cut it but he keeps refusing. He won’t tell them why but y/n knows it’s because he likes when she pulls it. It’s silly but she takes great pride in this power she has over him.

“Two,” he answers.

y/n smiles at the ceiling. Two kids with Min Yoongi? She’d give him as many as he wanted if he asked her. She asks, “Did they have names?”

Yoongi nods, “But I only remember one.”

y/n tugs on his hair when he doesn’t immediately provide the answer and he hums, lifting his head to look into her eyes when he says, “We had a son and we called him Seojun.”

Her smile is instant, crinkling the skin around her eyes, and she sits up just enough to kiss him. “Min Seojun,” she tries the name between their lips and it feels so perfect there, so sacred that they both nod, “If we ever have a son, that’s what I’ll call him then.”

“Is he sick?” y/n’s dad asks. Yoongi blinks up at y/n’s living room ceiling, unsure of when exactly he went horizontal but from the fretful look in y/n and Irene’s mother’s eyes, it must have been sudden.

He tries to sit up but both of y/n’s parents pin him back down. Yoongi should feel honored. He’s not a strong man and y/n’s mother could have pinned him on her own. But all he can think about is that there is a baby somewhere in this room that might be his.

And y/n didn’t tell him.

“Umma, you poisoned a member of BTS!” Irene teases, “Army is going to come for you!”

“I didn’t poison him!” her mother wails, swatting at her eldest daughter. Yoongi knows he should laugh, knows he should assure all of them he’s okay but he’s not okay. He feels sick to his stomach. He feels his chest aching. He feels betrayed.

And then Seojun starts to cry.

This time Yoongi is up before they can push him back down. He crosses the room to the infant, squatting low in front of his playpen and staring into those big, almost black eyes nearly squished by even bigger, rounder cheeks. His cheeks, Yoongi realizes.

How had he not seen it the very first time he peered into this baby’s face? This is so obviously his son. Tears spring to Yoongi’s eyes. Because it doesn’t matter that he’s had this big revelation. His presence at Seojun’s side isn’t a comfort. He’s still crying for his mom, for y/n, or — anger flashes hot through Yoongi — Hobi.

His own son is waiting for Hobi to come and comfort him.

It’s y/n who comes and scoops Seojun out of the crib, pressing his tear swollen face against her chest and offering soothing promises that everything will be okay. Seojun’s arms are around her neck in an instant, his breathing slowing as he calms himself against her skin.

As his outburst subsides, y/n carefully lowers herself to the ground beside Yoongi. There is so much concern in her eyes, he knows she has no idea that she is the cause of his pain. She reaches out to touch his arm again but he shakes his head at her, hoping the rage that is coursing through his blood shows in his eyes.

“How could you, y/n?” he whispers so low that only she and Seojun can hear.

Her eyes screw up in the confusion but she returns her outstretched hand to Seojun’s back, tracing comforting circles against his skin. Yoongi leaves her there. He can’t cause more of a scene than he already has. He’ll save that for later.

Instead, he bows deeply, apologetically to y/n’s parents. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. Thank you for a delicious meal and for inviting me into your home but I just remembered I have some urgent work to take care of and I need to be going.”

“Urgent work?” Jin asks, quirking an eyebrow. Yoongi refrains from rolling his eyes but Jin knows him well enough to read the exasperation in his pointed gaze. He turns to Irene, “Oh, I totally forgot. We need to get back to the studio.”

Irene nods, not buying this excuse but not going to call attention to whatever has just transpired, “Okay, y/n and Seojun can squeeze in our car then. You go with Yoongi but text me when you’ll be home please!”

Jin nods. Yoongi has already beelined for the door and he’s not about to get left behind.

y/n’s mother turns to her husband and swats him, “You made him uncomfortable with all of your stupid jokes!”

“Ah! It’s not my fault!”

y/n shakes her head, utterly baffled by whatever just happened. This is the second time that Yoongi has asked her that question: how could you? But this time it felt more pointed, more specific. He went straight to Seojun. He looked into his eyes and cried.

She knows she doesn’t deserve comfort in this moment, that she is the monster who hid a baby from the man she has always loved, but she looks for Jay anyway and when she meets his gaze, it all clicks into place. Jay looks guilty as hell.

“I’m so sorry,” he mouths.

Panic races through her veins and she clutches her son a little tighter. “What did you do?” she mouths back but she knows. She watched them furiously texting from across the room while her dad was telling jokes and her mom was trying to stuff everyone with fruit after the already massive dinner she had fed them.

Jay told Yoongi the truth. He took it from her the same way she took fatherhood from Yoongi. No warning. No discussion. No take backs.

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daesukiii · 10 months

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Answer (1/2)

Pairing: ghost!Seonghwa x Reader ft. future San

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Ghost AU, Mystery, Supernatural elements, vaguely horror

Warnings: Religious content, toxic possessiveness, slight yandere, mentions of death, death

Word count (part specific): 1228

Summary: For as long as Seonghwa had been roaming the world as a ghost, he hadn’t remembered much of his life when he was... well... living. But one thing he does remember is you. His childhood friend whom he hadn’t seen since he moved in primary school. So naturally, he seeks you out.

To his surprise, you can see him. He immediately decides to hold onto you for as long as he can. After all, you’re the only tie he has to the living world. He doesn’t want anything to get in the way of what could be a normal life.

Not even your potential partners.

im sorry this took so long T-T it's for @flurrys-creativity's 666 Milestone Collab but I totally lost all motivation and didn't even know how to finish this. The second part comes out next week (6/23)!

Part 1 - Part 2

“So….you’re like…dead?” You look so confused and Seonghwa honestly finds it adorable.

“(Y/N), dear, when you first saw me I was floating a foot in the air. I am currently transparent. What more could you ask?” You roll your eyes and attempt to smack Seonghwa, but again, he is a ghost and your hand just passes through him. “See, even more evidence!” He can’t help but tease you. The look on your face is worth it.

“You are so not funny, Seonghwa,” you hiss, frowning at him. “I haven’t seen you since we were in primary, and now you’re just dead?”

“Sorry, sorry,” there’s still a laugh in Seonghwa’s voice, but he stops teasing you. “I died, yes. I don’t really remember how, but all I knew were fragmented memories…and your face was in most of them. So I decided to find you, and lo and behold! You can see me.”

Your eyebrows furrow and for a moment Seonghwa worries that he might make you cry. “That’s so sad. I’m sorry,” you frown at Seonghwa and he waves his hand as if trying to brush away your pity.

“Don’t worry about it. I get to see you again anyways, so it’s not too bad,” he jokes to lighten the atmosphere. “How is it, being an adult? You’re getting so old.”

His attempt works for the most part, although you’ve still got sadness in your eyes. “Shut up, you’re only a couple years older than me.” You attempt to shove him again, and this time Seonghwa lets himself materialise just a bit more so that you can make contact, and he falls onto his side with a giggle.

“That wasn’t very nice, (Y/N)! I am just trying to inquire about your life.” Seonghwa pouts and you roll your eyes at the sight.

“Life is good, I guess. My parents don’t live here anymore, but they let me stay since they paid off the mortgage and it’s closer to my university. I just pay the utilities myself,” you hum. “What else, what else. I’m going to community college to get my gen-eds done…and I think that’s about all.”

“Oh, where are your parents now?” Seonghwa asks. “They were always so nice to me. At least no one will think you’re crazy for talking to ghost me.” He nudges you a little and you slap his elbow away.

“Oh, shut up, I probably am a little crazy if I can see you,” you say lightheartedly, and Seonghwa can’t lie—those words stung. “But they moved in with my maternal grand-aunt. She’s been having health issues. And my mom loves it there. She practically grew up there so it’s a second home to her.”

You trail off as your phone rings, and you smile at the sight of the caller id. “Oh, I have to take this call, sorry, Hwa. It’s my partner for this project I’m doing.”

And just like that, you were out of your room and down the hall. Seonghwa watches you leave with a soft smile on his face. He missed you. And now he gets to see you again and be with you forever.

“How was school today?” When you get home from college, Seonghwa is lying on your couch. Or rather, floating above your couch because maintaining a physical form for that long is tiring. He’s the epitome of relaxed, although a little bored since he can’t leave the house for too long without you since he’s tied his spirit down.

“It was good,” you reply, setting your bookbag on the coffee table to take off your shoes. “A little boring today since all I had were an English class and a long Chem lab. How was watching YouTube?”

“Exhilarating,” Seonghwa teases, finally straightening up to float towards you and greeting you with a hug. “Snuck a little bit of Netflix in there too.”

You hum, moving into the kitchen with Seonghwa following close behind. “Sounds like a fun day. Sorry that you have to be inside a lot though…I’d take you to class but I might get distracted and look like a fool talking to you.”

Seonghwa laughs shortly, hands moving to wrap around your stomach as he peeks over your shoulder at the bowl of cold pudding you’re eating. “Is that all you’re going to eat?” is all he says in response.

“Mmh, yeah. I just came back to grab a snack but then I’ll be going to the library and will grab lunch somewhere.” You pause, turning your head to take a glance at the ghost leaning on your shoulder. “You can come along this time if you’d like? I can get a study room at the library and so we can chat or you could read.”

Seonghwa’s eyes widen. He can feel his heart lurch like it's been stabbed—it’s only now he realises how different his routine has become now that he’s died. He stays at home 90 percent of the time so he always forgets how much you have to accommodate for him to accompany you.

“I’d like to,” he mumbles out, and as if you can tell how he’s feeling, you lean into his touch as a slight comfort.

“Yeah! You’ll have to tell me all about the YouTube and the Netflix,” you joke, a smile on your lips that Seonghwa can see out of the corner of his eye. God, he’s glad he finally found you.

“Where were you?” Seonghwa asks when you come back as the sun is setting, a far cry from when you usually arrive at two in the afternoon. “I got worried.”

"Oh no, I'm so sorry Hwa!" You exclaim after a quick glance at your watch. "I totally forgot that there's no way to contact you and lost track of time. I had gotten a partner project assigned to me so we went to the library to start to plan it out. I'm sorry."

Seonghwa purses his lips but relaxes. "That's okay. I just thought you got kidnapped or hurt or something. It seems like much longer when you're just here by yourself."

You hum in understanding, offering him a small smile. "Yeah, I get that. How about we order dinner since I worried you? It'll be a treat. And we gotta figure something out about the communication."

Seonghwa sighs affectionately. "That's more like a treat for you since I technically don't need to eat, but hey, I can still taste it so I'll take it."

You roll your eyes, poking him in the side. "Don't think I didn't notice you stealing all of my pudding, Seonghwa. Don't try to play cool with me."

Seonghwa laughs, batting your hand away. "Hey, you eat too many of those anyway. I'm actually doing you a favour by keeping you from getting sick.”

You scoff. "I take great offense to that—I haven't gotten sick yet."

"Just wait." Seonghwa rolls his eyes. "And I'll laugh when that happens."

Instead of being a mature adult who will accept when you're wrong, you just start ignoring him, looking through the menus you have pinned up on a billboard. "What do you want to eat?"

"Dude, nice way to dodge that. And I really could care less. Pizza?"

"Only if we can get stuffed crust," you offer and Seonghwa laughs.

"As if I would eat it any other way."

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mechaknight-98 · 5 months

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Gathering: Tropical Island

A.N.: Whaat? two updates in one week. Yeah...Since I had the time to work on more chapters I was able to do this, but don't expect this consistently. This one takes place after Mana confluence.

Tropical island The week before the show was supposed to film I was helping Astrid in the final vetting process. It was so much work that I didn’t have to do but was hampered by my conscience. At the end of the work day, we stretched and got up.

Astrid smiled “Thanks Tj you’ve been an immense help.” The week before the show was supposed to film I was helping Astrid in the final vetting process. It was so much work that I didn’t have to do but was hampered by my conscience. At the end of the work day, we stretched and got up.

Astrid smiled “Thanks Tj you’ve been an immense help.”

I shrugged as I said “No worries Ash” Astrid smiled. Before anything else could happen I got a call from Siyeon.

I picked it up and in a very brisk manner she asked, “Are you free?” I looked to Astrid and explained the situation she gave me the go-ahead nod and I replied “Yeah. Whatcha ya need?”

Siyeon responded quickly “I need your help. can you be at a location? I text you soon.”

I nodded and said, “Sure just text me and I am there.” I heard a cute little yes from Siyeon and she hung up.

I turned to Ash who looked at me and said, “Just go.” I nodded showered then left. luckily the location was walking distance from the penthouse Astrid lived in and where we had worked for the past few days. Her siblings were out talking to their “parole” officers. They were arriving as I was leaving and the wheelchair-bound one said to me teasingly “You know for someone who claims to be an introvert you are always going out.”

“I know I’m so tired,” I responded to her and their chuckles were the result.

I walked a few blocks down south and arrived at an Old school arcade. I look around for Siyeon but I don’t see her. Before the anxiety of being exposed in this foreign land could set in someone came into view waving. As the figure grew closer I recognized her as the girl in from the elevator a while back. As she got closer a familiar smile and a feeling of soft comfort washed over me. She gets close and looks up at me. “Tj right?” I nod. I am overwhelmed by a fruity smell that radiates from her. It’s citrus but I can’t place what it is. The girl smiles “Hi I’m Yujin. We met a couple of days ago.” I blinked as my brain pieced the puzzles together.

“Nice to meet you officially,” I say

Before I can say something dumb Siyeon and Sakura arrived

“Oh, you’re already here,” Siyeon said surprised

“Yeah, I got a good sense of direction,” I responded.

“Nice,” Siyeon said as she smiled. We walked in and Sakura dragged Siyeon away to check out claw machines. I chuckled watching the two wander off. I felt a tug on my shirt, and I turned to face Yujin. She looked at me shyly but cutely.

Curious to see where this goes I walked to her and asked “What games ya play?” I tried to have my tone be friendly (I typically have problems with tone and inflection control) and I guess to some degree it worked because Yujin was all smiles. I followed her to an old Tekken machine. It was 2 I believe (it was in Korean and my Hangul reading is so/so) we do a few rounds on the machine before Yujin's eye catches Skeeball and we race over to it. During our time here we began to chat.

“So how much do you know about Ive?” Yujin asked curiously

I looked into her big round eyes and felt what best can be described as the feeling of failure but I wasn’t sure why. “Sadly not much. I’m probably a more casual fan of K-pop and am not super familiar with Ive ” I explained

Yujin pouted her smile dimming for a flash of a moment before she smiled brightly, “Then I’ll just have to be the one who introduces you to us!” Yujin exclaimed giddy. Her smile was infectious so I quickly followed her into smiling. At this point, infatuation was setting in. After running up a new high score on the machine and getting a large sum of tickets we meet back up with Siyeon and Sakura who both had the cutest plushies. Sakura had a wolf and Siyeon had a cat. We chatted for a bit before Yujin dragged me to another game. She wanted to compete against me again. I nod and we play one of my favorite games of all time Marvel Vs. Capcom 2. “Question are you sure?” I asked not wanting to “bully” her

“Yeah, you’ve been eyeing this machine the entire time we’ve been here. I figured you’d want to play.” Yujin said as she bumped into me accidentally. We played a classic set and wiped the floor with her. I felt a little proud since she trounced me in Tekken earlier. Her eyes were wide, “dang wasn’t expecting that.”

“Yeah, I typically play better at playing defensively against more aggressive opponents,” I respond

“You seem to me to be the more active and aggressive type.” Yujin asserted

“Me not really. I like being able to move on my terms but aggressive is not my style. I like being able to adapt to what I need at the moment.” I explained

“Oh, so you’re the calculating type.” She said while brushing my arm and we walked around some more.

“In the same way, you’re the friendly type,” I said to Yujin she smiled brightly.

“You’re witty I like that.” She exclaims in a voice cooler than ice. Her eyes narrowed, “where did Astrid dig you up?”

"oh my gosh, how did you know I loved Dinosaurs and archaeology?"

"Oh, you just seem like a Dino Samurai. kind of guy." Yujin teases

I laugh and say, "You are partially correct." Yujin cracks a smile and I continue by answering her question, “College I thought she was a robot and became friends with her.” I said Yujin laughed at that. I internally laughed at her choice of phrase

“Wait huh? You have to tell me the story?” Yujin asked expectantly

“Ok, so when I first met her I thought she was a robot because she talked very flatly and very technical. I thought “How cool would it be to say my best friend is a literal android?”, but I got an incredible best friend who’s had my back through hell and high water.” I said

Before we do anything else a young and angry guy bumped into Yujin “Move it” he yelled.

I looked at the guy and said “Splendid you speak English. Look can you apologize for bumping into my friend here?”

“And why would I apologize to this dog (he gestured to Yujin) Darkie (he gestured to me).” He said and to be honest I didn’t know what to say. Not because I was expecting a response in that vein, no what got me is what he said specifically. I turned to Yujin and when I saw she was on the verge of tears my more primal instincts took hold.

Reining them in I turned to the young man and said “Look I’m going to let that darkie comment slide but I’d like it if you’d apologize to…” Before I could finish my sentence a fist flew to my face. The song Head Hunter by Dance Gavin Dance began to play in my head as I got up droning out all other voices or noise. I got up and faced the bully trying to keep some semblance of peace.

I go up to him and flick his forehead, “Bad. Apologize.” I repeat the action and phrase 7 more times slowly increasing the energy stored within. While it doesn’t do much physical harm or damage his brain processes each hit progressively worse. I am assuming by the seventh he just can’t take any more and apologizes to Yujin. after that, the young man screams to stop and I relent. I shrug and walk away towards my friends. I give a thumbs up and we head back to Lee Sserafim’s dorm. Dexter and Connor are there talking with Giselle and Yunjin. I sit across from them along with Siyeon while Sakura helps Yujin find the restroom. (Makes sense it was her first time after all) I sat down on the couch with Siyeon. I turn to her and say “You’re evil for this you know.”

Siyeon smirks “What are you talking about?”

“Just introducing me to such a pretty girl like that,” I reply

“So I take it you’re happy?” Siyeon asks

“Elated…(I see the blank look from Siyeon) Yes I am very happy.”

Sakura smiles and says “Take care of her now. She looks tough but she’s quite the softie.”

“Was that a pun based on her physical presence?” I say as I gesticulate what to indicate her general body shape.

“What no she’s soft here.” She says as she points to her chest. I again have trouble interpreting if she is being literal or more metaphorical but I nod like I understand anyway. After that Siyeon gets up and sits next to Sakura. Yujin Walks back in and nestles next to me. The contact was unexpected but pleasant. She smells of Citrus which I like. Connor laughs seeing the young lady stake a claim on her “territory.” The rest of the girls present laughed reading her statement clearly, “This one is mine!” It said

Yujinleaned into my shoulder. I looked over and she looked up at my eyes. Her pale skin looked so soft I wanted to poke her she looked at me with a smile before saying “What?”

I grin and say “You’re just really pretty.”

She smiles extremely wide then says “Thank you…I love your eyes.”

I smiled and replied, “Thank you.”

“Are we interrupting something?" Giselle says Yunjin with a smirk She and Dexter laugh as Yujin turns crimson. She buries her head in my torso trying to escape the embarrassment. When the chuckling stopped Yujin looked up at me not with the doe eyes I’d been familiar with to this point but with a more exotic look (not like in an “oh the American seeing an exotic looking woman” the way people use exotic but in a “she made an expression I have never seen before” kinda way) the look lasted for a moment before she was back to her cute smile. Despite my powers being active I couldn’t read her, and it both terrified and thrilled me.

Before anything else could happen I heard Connor say. “Hey, we got something for you.” Before I felt something hit me. I turn and it's Ixalan Merfolk commander deck I look up surprised.

Siyeon says, “Since you don’t have a “signature deck” make that one yours for now.”

I chuckle and say “Okay.” I space-sifted it back home where I would work on it later

“We figured you could be this would be good for you,” Yunjin said laughing

“But why merfolk of all things?” I asked

“Well we haven’t figured you out yet but we agreed you’re green-blue through and through,” Siyeon said

“Oh, really how so?” Yujin asked the group to my surprise before adding “I feel like he’s very much Esper.”

“You know I get that a lot,” I said to her. Yujin smiled confidently “Also bant typically but I didn’t know you played.” I added

“Well Chaewon unnie taught me so I could beat Kkura unnie, but you’re right I see the bant comparison,” Yujin answered. Sakura laughed at that.

“that makes sense, but yeah I just identify with Sultai mostly it’s just there are not many Sultai commanders that I like they all kinda go too far in one niche and aren’t typically the best for that niche. Except maybe Tasigur and maybe Kadena…or they cost too much like Muldrotha and Damia sage of stone.” I justified. The audible gasp followed by

“Sutlai?” From everyone present Was so aggressive and funny that I couldn’t help but laugh.

Yujin was the first to recover and say, “You’re way too nice to be Sultai”

“Well that’s because you've never played against me or had to fight me," I said

the room was silent until Yujin looked at me and asked“Do you play on the arena or spell table?” I nodded before responding

“Both…what about you?” I answered

“Same. My tag is Ujinnie what’s yours.” Yujin responded

I chuckled at the pieces not connecting “Oh uh Danzo the Eyestealer but I used to go by Stealth Dragon Danzo… you know it’s kinda funny I used to play with a Ujinnie she had a good Xira the golden sting deck.” The room was silent for some time.

“You!” Giselles said pointing at me. Super confused I looked at other people in the room. Connor began to laugh. “You and that Chulane deck where you cast alluren and draw your deck” Giselle yelled at me. hearing that pieces started to click.

“Scorpion?” I questioned as a look of realization and relief came to my face. Connor and Dexter nodded, and I began to laugh maniacally.

Yujin smiled next to me and Siyeon who was eager to change the subject said “Well you’re certainly not sultai but you’re green because challenged us on our view of the triplets and while we still may not like all of them your words did reach us.” Dexter said

“so I’m green because I challenged your perspective?” I inquired

“Yes but no. What makes you green is that you see the world at its most real and just accept it. You change what you can and strive to grow what’s possible but you never overextend. You take the world as it is and live.” Giselle said.

I shrug and say “I guess but to be honest the only one I care about is Astrid.” The group looks at me and asks me why.

“She has the best qualities of a wesker she is arrogant and dumb…wait that is a bit too harsh for what I mean. She is arrogant and ditzy. Her saving grace is her ability to flourish and maneuver socially. Her social skills and communication skills are impeccable and she uses that to succeed. Like, take into consideration that we are all going to Raccoon City with the Weskers near the anniversary of the first Raccoon City outbreak sponsored by umbrella corporation and Tricell. To me this is dumb, but her getting a Tenno(I point at Connor), a Guardian (I point at Dexter), and me. That’s smart.”

Sakura looks at me confused “What’s so special about you?”

I reassure her by saying “I'm Psionic like Connor and Dexter, but with a little extra added.” They all look at me and don’t accept that.

“Bro come on stop with all the cryptic nonsense. Just tell us what your secret or your powers are. ” Dexter said

I laughed before saying “My entire power set is cryptic nonsense.” That joke didn’t go over well.

“Come on tell us.”

I hesitate before turning to Yujin who’s all smiles. “I am a psionic like you two,” I said pointing to Connor and Dexter much to their surprise.

After that, we had a calm dinner/ lunch where we ate pizza together. Eventually, I have to get up and go to the restroom. While I’m gone Yujin turns to Sakura and says “Okay Unnie you were right. I like him.”

Connor laughs and says, “Well that was fast. How do you know he feels the same.” There was a brief pause before the whole room started laughing. After they continued to laugh I reentered the room confused

After the pizza, I went to walk Yujin home. She was silent for most of the trip until the end. When we got to her dorm she said “Thanks for having my back.”

“No worries he hurt my friend and I don’t play that,” I explained

“Okay, there’s the green in you.” Yujin teased

“What?” I inquired

“The desire to protect those close to you is a green trait.” Yujin answer

I smiled and opened the door for her. Yujin smiles and says “See you later Tj.” I nod and wave her away. “Not a big talker huh?”

“Well you know the saying actions speak louder than words,” I respond

“I like that. It’s also very Green of you.” Yujin says before closing the door. I notice Wonyoung in the background glaring at me I smile trying to appear friendly. Her glare continues. I laugh before leaving.

While I began to walk back Yujin still giddy turned back to see her best friend (Wonyoung) and her leader (Gaeul) watching her they both held looks of displeasure.

“Who was that?” Wonyoung asked her leader

“Oh that was Tj he’s the security guy for the trip we’re doing.”

Gaeul looked at her junior with soft eyes “Really him? he looks scary.” She said (it’s the tattoos I’m assuming. I get that a lot.)

“He looks mean sure, but he is a softie." Yujin defended me.

I was walking back to Astrid's place when I felt a menacing presence I looked around to see the young man from earlier. he had sharpened teeth and stared at me with malice. his right hand transformed into a blade.

"You know I don't appreciate being attacked like that." He said his voice dripping with venom. He shot out the lights and cameras that were nearby with spikes coming out of his blade arm.

I groaned before saying "You made this so much worse for you, but you didn't know so I can't blame you. I am assuming you are here to kill me for revenge from earlier. I probably can't dissuade you from that which sucks because this is going to get messy…ah well. Before we begin however I have one question; What would you like the note to say when they find you in pieces."

#kpop fanfic #fanfic #male reader #edh #mtg commander #le sserafim yunjin #miyawaki sakura #ive #an yujin #ive yujin #dreamcatcher fanfic #yujin

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idontplaytrack · 30 days

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“you’re a softie”

warnings: mentions/descriptions of anxiety, medical gaslighting, chronic pain & illness

- rosa diaz x teen daughter!reader -

rosa’s always been a private person, you knew her reasons for not telling her friends about you. however, it wasn’t exactly like it ever came up after all the (very limited) knowledge they had about your mother. but of course, one person on the 99th precinct squad was the exception- captain holt.

the day was going by as per usual, until diaz abruptly went onto the terrace to answer a phone call. the noise startles the relatively quiet bullpen, but they resumed their respective work tasks. “what’s going on with rosa?”

“hm?” amy asks, still distracted by her paperwork.

“rosa seems very…i dunno. have we ever seen her showing this much emotion on her face? that isn’t annoyance or anger?” jake shrugs, pointing at rosa who was currently on the phone with you.

“she doesn’t look happy though. that can’t be good.” amy seethed. just as she finished her sentence, rosa reenters the bullpen and was immediately headed for holt’s office. she knocks, he allows her to enter.

“diaz. how may i help you?”

“my daughter called me. i need to take her home from school. her symptoms have been flaring up for awhile. i don’t want her to get hurt if she makes her own way home.”

“very well. i understand. how much time do you need?”

“can i clock out now? i’m not sure if i need to take her to the hospital or not because she’s not really talking to me- i’ll stay later tomorrow and do whatever task you assign me.” rosa promised.

“hand over the work on your desk to me and you may clock out.” holt decided.

“thanks.” rosa swiftly walked to her desk to grab the small stack of files and turned it in to holt, then left the precinct without another word.

————

“i can’t believe you won’t let me get a car.” rosa scoffs playfully.

“and let you part ways with your motorcycle? I couldn’t possibly do that.”

“i can have both, you know?” rosa bit back a smile, “are you sure you don’t want me to get us a cab home?”

“hurts, but eh.” you shrug.

“hospital?”

“just let me curl up in bed for a couple days, they’ll just hook me up to an iv and give me the same meds i have at home.” you sigh, “i’m due for an mri in two weeks anyway- i can tough it out till then.” rosa pulls you to the side, “i don’t want you to tough it out. your doctor already said that if the pain suddenly worsens and persists you can go in to see her.”

“ i can, but i won’t.”

“you amaze me.” rosa huffs, “flareups cause you a 8-9 out of 10 pain and you can walk, spend a whole day out.”

“all thanks to the whole year of medical gaslighting. had to learn how to function with the symptoms.”

you two board the subway and rosa spots a seat. she nudges you to sit down but you refused. “sit. down.” she insisted. “fine, fine.” you gave in, she stands in front of you, keeping the conversation going to keep your mind off of the pain. “how was school today?”

“just did worksheets and asked questions if i had any. but, lunch did suck.”

“why? someone give you trouble?”

“no, the food was revolting.”

rosa lets out a soft laugh, “is there anything i can do to make you feel better?”

“i already had you abandon your work at 2pm. i feel bad as it is. i could’ve went home myself.”

“yeah, i’m not risking that.” rosa scoffs, “nice try.”

“how about a slice of pizza from your favourite place? or two?” rosa suggests.

“if you want.” you shrug, tired.

getting off the subway, she leads you to your favourite pizza place - it was a short walk. pushing the door open, the bell above the door tinkles. “hey, y/n!” the usual counter staff, ana, spotted you. “ay, rough day?”

“she’s not feeling well.” rosa answered on your behalf.

“pobrecita.” ana frowns, “usual order?”

“yep.” rosa nodded curtly, “2 slices sausage. 2 slices pepperoni.”

“of course, just a minute.” the older lady smiled. rosa paid, then took you to the side to wait away from, the crowd. she had a protective arm around you. “i’ll be fine.” you glanced up at her. “i don’t care. you’re my baby.” to you, this was the norm, but still quite rare. you just knew her coworkers would kill to hear this interaction.

after picking up your order, you and rosa resumed your journey home. the last stretch was a nine minute walk from the pizza place. once at home, you excused yourself and went to change into your favourite loungewear set. that made you feel a tad better: to be out gross sweaty clothes. soon after you emerged from, your bedroom, rosa walked out from hers donning a plain black tank top and a pair of matching leggings.

“let’s eat.” rosa tilted her head toward the dining area. you walk over before she did and laid the table. “ana gave us free garlic knots and sauce again.”

“she always does that when you go there with me.” she smirked. you chuckled, sitting down. “didn’t you tell her to stop doing that?”

“i did, but she likes giving you a little treat. her words, not mine.” rosa shrugged, “the lady’s happy. let her do it. she’s been there since before i had you- she’s kinda like another abuelita of yours. besides, she won’t take my money. i tried to pay her back for the extras she gave, but she wouldn’t take it.”

you fought back a laugh, “what?”

“it’s true.” she places the box containing the pepperoni pizza in front of you, “she’s been there for years.”

“i know.” the laughter mellows out and you quietly ate your slice, your mind drifts off. rosa caught you spacing out almost instantly. you caught her gaze for a moment, “i’m fine. just trying not to think about anything at all, actually.”

she shrugs. “how was work?”

“the recent cases are nothing too intense so i won’t be working too much overtime, i hope. it was a good day, though.”

“good. why?”

you saw that subtle glimmer in her eyes, “you know, don’t you? you just want me to say it.”

you gave her cheeky grin as you chewed your food.

“ha! some things really don’t change.” she remarked, “you always gave me this…grin even when you were really little.”

“you’re a softie.” you teased her. she purses her lips together, her attempt of trying not to smile or laugh. which failed - the corner of her lips tug into a small smile.

“take a nap after this.” she changes the subject abruptly.

“okay, softie.” you pout.

————

the remainder of yesterday went by like clockwork during a flareup for you. so it was uneventful in rosa’s opinion, and she was glad to be back at work the next day because that meant you were in less pain than you were before. “why’d you leave work so early yesterday?”

“not talking about that, jake.” she told him absentmindedly, focused on her computer screen.

“oookay.”

“i’m not kidding.” she glares at him. he rolls back to his desk on his chair, “i’m gonna keep bothering you till i find out~”

“not gonna happen.”

“diaz, my office.” holt stepped into the bullpen briefly. rosa followed him inside silently. “you don’t have to work over time this evening.”

“i can.”

“there is no need.” holt reiterated, “there isn’t any paperwork that needs to be done.”

“okay.” rosa acknowledges with a nod, “is there anything else?”

“yes, how is your daughter doing?” he asked, which caught rosa by surprise.

“better. she’s at school again.”

“that is good to hear. dismissed.”

as soon as rosa shut holt’s office door behind herself, jake returned with the same question. “shut up.” rosa’s phone beeps, jake beats her to it. “oh! your phone’s not on silent mode like it usually would.” he peeks at the screen, “oh my god, rosa-”

“what?” rosa deadpanned, “give it back.”

scared, jake handed the device over. but it wasn’t just that. rosa’s been way more guarded up ever since your recent diagnosis of this chronic illness— which your doctor told you was a rare disease. by the name of aggressive fibromatosis. something apparently ‘harmless’ but has been the root cause of your pain and sleepless nights. the name alone terrified you, even rosa. but more so when she sees you go through a flareup episode. for the first time in her life, she felt helpless. she hadn’t told anyone other than holt, and he didn’t even know the specifics. it took a very long time for you to get answers. doctor after doctor brushed you off and painted you as crazy or dramatic, telling you it was either period cramps or all in your head. day after day, rosa’s anger grew but her patience depleted. she was desperate for you to get the help you needed and she was so, so relieved that you did now. but despite knowing she would probably need the help of her friends in one way or another regarding your situation, she was still choosing to keep this to herself.

but, you were absolutely right about one thing. she was softie. but only you have seen this side of her, and maybe arlo- but he was a puppy. which sadly passed away some time ago.

“who is she? why’s she calling you softie?” asked jake, eagerly.

“give it up, jake.“ rosa exhaled sharply, “give it up.”

“fine, softie.”

#rosa diaz #rosa diaz x daughter reader #b99 #brooklynninenine #alternateuniverse #comfort #sickfic

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haikyuufanficwriting · 1 month

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Chapter 16: Miya Atsumu Pt. 2

Prompt: Readers screws with Character Character: Miya Atsumu ________________________

Days had passed, and you had started to forget that you and Miya Atsumu had met. Nothing had ever come from his seemingly empty threat, and you went about your life as usual. The bakery remained a sanctuary, a place where the chaos of the world seemed to fade away amid the scent of freshly baked goods and the comforting routine of daily tasks. Dreadful schooling followed by sleepless nights, leading to rejuvenating work at the bakery.

At least until something happened.

You were in the back as always, seeing how it was yet another slow day. The sound of the radio station playing through the beat speakers was soothing you as you whipped a batch of batter to the preferred consistency. Your concentration on the batter was slightly broken however, when you saw Funaba-san walk into the back from the walk-in freezer, phone in hand and a huge smile on his face, eyes sparkling in excitement.

“Never mind the rush! We’re just happy to be recommended! I can assure you this honour will be done to the best of our abilities. Thank you very much!” The phone ended with you smiling, even though you had no idea what was going on. “Good news?” You asked the old man, already knowing the answer. You could practically see his bones jingle in excitement as he told you. “We’ve been asked to cater a charity gala. It’s being held by a huge sports association.” You could feel your jaw drop in shock.

Your local bakery. The one that never gets more than 5 people at a time, was asked to cater this calibre of an event. It almost seemed too good to be true.

Almost.

“Funaba-san! That’s incredible!” You couldn’t hide the shock from your voice, but the owner was much too focused to care. He immediately pulled out a paper and pen, writing furiously on ideas for the theme, the pastries, the flavours. You too soon fell into the excitement, letting it swallow you whole. The next few hours were a whirlwind of brainstorming, planning, and excitement as you and Funaba-san worked out every detail for the grand event. The entire process felt surreal, almost like a dream unfurling before your eyes. You spent countless hours in the coming days at the bakery, opting to create beautiful and delicious sweets instead of studying for whatever classes you had. In two weeks, you and Funaba-san had created three different tiered cakes, countless flavoured macaroons, tarts, cream puffs, and fruit parfaits accentuated with gold leaf and beautiful pastel colours that you coloured yourself.

On the eve of the event, the aromas of freshly baked pastries filled the air as you carefully arranged the delicate creations on elegantly decorated tables. After swirling the last icing dollop on your now extremely tired and cramped hand, you took a step back to admire the dozens of cupcakes at your workstation. Icing colours littered your apron, clothes and hands, but looking at it all now...

It was so, so worth it.

“You did well.” Funaba-san groaned out, stretching his back from being crouched over too long, dusting a cake with flaked gold. His praise made your heart light, and you couldn’t stop the smile from making its way across your face. “Thank you.” You said, truly sincere.

He walked over to you, admiring your work with you. “You are a baker.” You sigh, knowing that he was right, but refuse to say anything.

“So why aren’t you one?” You could feel your chest tighten at the question. You sighed once more, before taking your apron off and hanging it on the wall. “Funaba-san,” You started, wiping your forehead. “My parents are only paying for me to stay here and study. If I gave up on that, I couldn’t stay here. I simply can’t afford it.” You couldn’t look at the man, knowing exactly the expression he’d have. One that you couldn’t stand.

Disappointment.

“Baking… Is a nice hobby. I’m happy with keeping it as that.” You continue and at that, you hear the old man chuckle, causing you to turn around. You watched him walk towards you, a wistful look in his eye. He simply rubbed the icing you didn’t know you had on your forehead off, showing you the beautiful pastel purple, you had mixed in. “This,” He paused, “Is not the look of a hobby. This is the look of a baker.”

You could only swallow, feeling a sudden lump in your throat.

Funaba-san walks back to the pastries, beginning to put them in their boxes, ready for the event. After a few moments you join him, and it’s as if nothing ever happened.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t prefer it.

“Also, you’ll be going to the Gala.” Funaba-san had said it simply, but the whole sentence made your soul leave your body the tiniest bit.

“Pardon me?” You heard your voice crack, but you didn’t care on account of being thrown so out of the loop. The man looked at you, amusement clearly in his eyes. “I don’t trust any of the part-time caterers like I do with you. I know you will do them justice.” You sputtered, so many questions going through your head.

“I—" Was the only word you could get out for a few moments. “Don’t have anything to wear?” You meant it as a statement, but the suddenness of the situation made it sound like a question. Funaba-san laughed, a full-belly one too, right before digging in his pocket and handing you a clump of cash.

Straight from the deposit you know he received.

“Find something nice. You are representing the bakery you know.” All words dry up in your throat. The gesture and the quickness of the situation developing, you could only hold a weary smile, and say a very strained ‘Thank you’.

This was going to be a shitshow.

~~~

You were in a panic. You had never been to a Gala before, let alone represented the bakery at such an event.

Due to Funaba-san’s bomb being dropped on you, the day of the Gala was going to be a whirlwind of nerves, frustration and even more nerves. You had to find something to wear, but more importantly, you had to prepare yourself mentally for the big night ahead. You were never one for parties, and for one that was as serious as this, you were a mess.

You had run to the mall the second it opened, begging any associate within earshot to tell you what a black-tie event meant. Now, as a broke university student, you never had the money to actually buy anything apart from food and a textbook here and there, but with the help of Funaba-san, you managed to find a pretty decent dress. It was a black, knee-length dress that was form-fitting and flared out at the bottom in a cascade of fabric. The neckline was a simple V, but also mirroring in the back, dipping but still remaining conservative. It was very flattering on you and paired with your favourite black wedges, the look was complete.

However, as you stood before the mirror, hair up in an elegant updo you found online and your make-up done to the best of your abilities, the knot of anxiety in your stomach tightened. You felt a little out of place, more accustomed to flour-stained aprons and comfortable shoes than a sophisticated dress and heels. You studied your reflection, tugging slightly at the hem of the dress, attempting to ease the feeling of unease that coiled within you.

"It's just a party," you murmured to your reflection, hoping to quell the rising tide of nervousness. But this wasn't just any party—it was a prestigious event, and you were going to be a complete fish out of water.

But it would make Funaba-san proud, so you would do so proudly and with a smile on your face.

By the time the evening rolled around, you had picked up everything in Funaba-sans car, it taking up the entirety of the trunk, backseats and passenger side, you drove carefully to the event. Apartment complexes stretched into high-rise buildings as you navigated through the city. With each passing minute inched closer to the grand hall where the gala would unfold. The GPS guided you, but your mind was elsewhere, occupied by the thought of representing the bakery at such a prestigious gathering. Your heart pounded against your chest, an unsettling combination of excitement and trepidation coursing through your veins.

The venue loomed ahead, a magnificent building adorned with lights that illuminated the night sky. As you pulled into the parking lot, your hands trembled ever so slightly as you cut the engine. The sight of luxury cars and finely dressed attendees entering the hall sent a shiver down your spine. You took a moment to compose yourself, straightening your dress and adjusting your hair in the rearview mirror.

“You can do this.” You whispered to yourself, not even trying to sound like you believed it. Letting out a large sigh, you got out of the car to find the nearest worker, who just so happened to be the valet. You mentioned you were with catering and they explained how to park at the back of the building and what room to put the food in once inside. Absorbing the information, you follow instructions to park Funaba-sans ratty Sudan amongst the other cars of its calibre. Exiting once more, you realize something crucial.

The unpacking of these desserts was going to be extremely tedious without any kind of help.

If he wasn’t a sweet old man, you’d seriously consider whether or not the bakery owner was tormenting you.

With a huge sigh, you open the trunk to start loading in the desserts, walking carefully to not disturb any of the masterpieces inside. After the third trip, you were already regretting coming at all. At least until something interesting happened.

Very interesting.

“Can I help you with those?” The question was poised very simply and innocent enough. It was a man’s voice, and it filled you with gratitude once it hit your ears. You turned, grateful to the man only to find yourself terrified.

There stood Miya Atsumu. In a jet-black suit, his sharp features were accentuated by the evening light, as he looked confused at the way your face morphed.

“Miya? What are you doing here?” Your eyes jilted around, looking for anyone in the vicinity to help you, but there was no one in sight. “Uh, I’m in charge of the food here. “ You squinted, even more confused, but your confusion was matched.

“How do you know my name?” The question took you aback. The unexpected question caught you off guard, morphing your initial fear into a mix of frustration and disbelief. “We met like two weeks ago? The volleyball player with the hot date?” You had decided not the mention the incident, learning your lesson about adding, fuel to the fire. Immediately, Miya’s eyes light up in recognition. He made a sound of understanding, “You met Atsumu. Miya Atsumu.” As the words left his lips, you paused, taking a more discerning look at the man standing before you.

“I’m Miya Osamu. Atsumu’s twin brother.” All of a sudden, it clicked.

Of course, it wasn’t the Miya you knew.

While the physical similarities between the brothers were evident, there was a marked contrast in their demeanour. Atsumu's playful arrogance was replaced by Osamu's more composed and slightly reserved presence. Physically, the differences between Miya Atsumu and Miya Osamu were subtle yet distinct aside from the hair you just now noticed was different. Atsumu had an air of confidence about him, with features that conveyed a more striking and extroverted personality. His demeanour was lively, brimming with a vibrant energy that commanded attention. With a playful smile and an intense gaze, he exuded a certain charm that left an impression, even from the first encounter. On the other hand, Miya Osamu seemed to carry a more grounded presence. He possessed a quieter confidence that spoke volumes without needing the same spotlight as Atsumu.

There was a calmness to his expression that made him appear less intense and more approachable. His smile was softer, with an ease that seemed to invite conversation rather than demand attention.

You can see it all now; clear as day in the dead of night.

“Miya Osamu,” you echoed, the realization settling in as the tension faded from your shoulders. “I didn’t realize you were his twin. Sorry for the confusion.”

“S’alright. We do get mixed up a lot,” Osamu chuckled, extending a hand to help with the desserts. “Let me give you a hand with those. They look too delicate for one person to handle.”

The offer was much appreciated. You cautiously handed him a box, noticing that he seemed to care for the desserts as much as you did. “So,” You started, unable to keep your questions from being asked. “You’re in charge of the food for this event?” Osamu nodded, setting a box down. “Yeah. I actually run my own Nigiri store,” You saw his eyes light up when he mentioned his store, and you felt your heart ache in slight jealousy.

Watching someone live your dreams, especially if that someone nearby, takes a much bigger person than you to handle maturely.

“But Atsumu asked me to help cater, so I did.” You listened as you placed the last box on your table. You started unpacking them, already having a vision in your head as to how you wanted it. “So, what exactly is this event?” Osamu snorted at the question, clearly finding it amusing that you even asked. “It’s just some party to help raise awareness for Japan’s volleyball association. Atsumu plays on one of the teams.” So he wasn’t lying. You thought to yourself, but in all honesty, out of curiosity you did search his name up and what you found.

It was the real deal.

He was a certified celebrity. Sure not a huge one, but a big enough one to make you feel slightly scared that you fucked with him in such a way.

You hummed, noticing that Osamu didn’t leave. In fact, he watched you work as you talked. “He actually recommended you guys too.” He added, making you pause, putting a cupcake down to turn to the twin. “He did?” You ask, incredulously, to which he raises a brow, confused at your tone. By his reaction, you’re assuming his brother didn’t inform him of your shenanigans, but to react that strongly on the day.

Only to recommend you for such a huge event, that’s going to definitely bring attention to the bakery?

It seemed a little too nice for your liking. A lot too nice.

Osamu however, seemed to brush off your reaction. “I mean, by the looks of it,” He looked at your display so far, letting out a low whistle, clearly impressed. “It’s a pretty good recommendation.” You couldn’t stop the blush forming on your cheeks, feeling almost giddy at the compliment. “Thanks,” You looked back at your work, not stopping the words from your mouth. “Keeping the colours consistent between desserts was the most tricky, but I found—“

“Hold on, you made these?” The question caught you off guard. “Yeah, mostly. It’s just me and the owner so it took quite a bit.” You see Osamu’s eyes widen slightly. “Well, you two have got quite a gift.” You laughed lightly before you heard a phone ring. Osamu pulls out his to be the source of the noise and answers. He listens before he looks back at you. “I got to go. It was nice meeting you. I’ll try to find you a little later.” You felt your heart ease at the thought of knowing someone nice at the party. You nodded, waving him away before going back to your table and finishing up the final pieces.

When you took a step back, it looked stunning.

Three majestic, tiered cakes stood tall, each a masterpiece of taste: a decadent chocolate cake adorned with intricate chocolate curls and raspberry ganache, a classic vanilla bean cake draped in fondant and adorned with delicate sugar flowers, and an exotic blend of coconut sponge and passionfruit curd. Rows of dainty macarons showcased pastel hues of raspberry, pistachio, lemon, and rose, promising a harmonious balance of crispness and chewy delight. Elegant tartlets, some filled with zesty lemon cream and fresh berries, others with rich chocolate ganache and edible gold leaf, enticed with their golden pastry shells. Cream puffs, perfectly piped and dusted with powdered sugar, revealed featherlight choux pastry embracing luscious vanilla bean custard. Glassware held fruit parfaits, a medley of strawberries, blueberries, kiwi, whipped cream, and sponge cake, offering a delightful fusion of textures and fruity sweetness. These desserts were not just confections but visual poetry, a stunning display of taste and artistry that mesmerized the eyes and enticed the senses.

Truly, you had outdone yourself.

“Miss?” You turned to the voice, to find a waiter holding a tray of champagne, very gracefully you might add, and encouraging you to take one. You shake your hand, trying to turn him down politely. “Oh, I can’t. I’m part of the help.” You explained, letting out a laugh that you thought as also being part of the help, he’d reciprocate. He only smiled, confusedly. “Actually, I was told to track you down specifically.” He confirmed your name, to which you looked surprised. He takes a glass from his tray and hands it to you, and being in a sort of shock, you accept it.

“You’ve been invited to dine with the guests.” You laugh again, not knowing how to properly convey your emotions.

“But I’m not—Really, I don’t—“ You stuttered and stumbled before the waiter seemingly took pity on you. “Miya-san is expecting you by the bar.” Is all he said before leaving the dining hall to attend to the other guests at the venue, the glass still in your hand.

You felt your heart sink to your stomach as you realized it probably wasn’t Osamu.

As you traversed the opulent venue, the aura of affluence enveloped you like a cocoon. Every detail exuded luxury—gleaming crystal chandeliers casting prismatic patterns across the expansive hall, silk-draped tables adorned with intricate floral arrangements, and a radiant array of dazzling lights that accentuated the grandeur of the surroundings.

Elegant guests, their attire a symphony of couture and sophistication, mingled effortlessly, their laughter tinkling like crystal. Women in resplendent gowns, shimmering with sequins and delicate embroidery, glided gracefully across the marble floors. Men, impeccably suited in tailored tuxedos, exuded an air of refined confidence as they engaged in spirited conversations.

Amidst this tapestry of opulence, you felt acutely aware of your own presence. The simple, knee-length black dress you wore, though stylish, paled in comparison to the extravagant couture adorning the other attendees. It was a garment that seemed more suited to casual dinners with friends or a modest gathering at the university. A wave of self-consciousness washed over you as you glanced down at your ensemble, the dress that seemed so fitting earlier now feeling starkly inadequate in this sea of glamour and sophistication. The meticulous updo, an attempt to exude a semblance of elegance, felt out of place amidst the perfectly coiffed hairstyles and elaborate upstyles of the other women.

Despite the discomfort, you straightened your shoulders, a silent resolve settling within you. You were here on behalf of the bakery, representing the dedication and artistry poured into every confection. The weight of that responsibility tempered your unease, anchoring you in a sense of purpose amid the unfamiliarity of the grand gala.

Except that discomfort came back full force when you saw Miya Atsumu. And you definitely knew it was him.

Dressed in a tailored jet-black suit, Atsumu seemed to wear the garment with a nonchalant elegance that only accentuated his magnetic presence. The jacket was impeccably fitted, emphasizing his lean, athletic frame, hinting at both strength and agility. His crisp white shirt, devoid of any tie, conveyed a casual refinement that bordered on audacity, a subtle defiance against the formal dress code that surrounded him. And man did he own it.

His demeanor exuded a captivating blend of self-assurance and irreverence, a man comfortable in his own skin and unapologetic about it. A crooked, yet charming half-smirk played on his lips, a testament to his spirited personality and the hint of a mischievous nature that lurked beneath his confident exterior.

As he leaned against the bar with an easy grace, engaging the bartender in a casual conversation, he seemed utterly at home in this world of sophistication and glamour. There was an effortless magnetism about him that drew attention, a pull that made it impossible not to notice him in a room brimming with elegance and refinement. You felt your throat form a lump as he caught a glimpse of you in his peripheral, now turning to face you.

You’d never tell anyone that your heart skipped a beat when you saw him give you a once-over.

“Well, well. I didn’t think ya’d come.” You try your best to seem as carefree and calm as you were when you met him the first time in the bakery. But you were outside your playing field, and it seemed like Atsumu knew it too. You give a light shrug, making sure your voice was even before you spoke. “With the size of that deposit, I’d have been crazy not to.” You go to stand next to him, as to not be in the way of any incoming foot traffic, accidentally catching a whiff of his cologne.

He smelled incredible.

Atsumu kept his smile plastered on, the one you could tell wasn’t very genuine as he continued to survey you. His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his eyes before his grin widened slightly. “A smart move, then. Gotta admit, didn’t expect ta see ya decked out like this.”

You resisted the urge to fidget, aware of his perceptive scrutiny. “Yeah, well, didn’t expect to be here either,” you replied, a hint of dryness seeping into your tone. “Must admit, this isn’t exactly my scene.”

He chuckled, the sound carrying an air of amusement. “A fish outta water, eh?” Atsumu’s voice was light, the teasing lilt dancing through his words. He leaned back against the bar, one hand casually resting on the polished surface, never breaking eye contact. You met his gaze, holding his eyes for a moment before glancing away.

“I wanted to thank you,” You couldn’t get the nerve to look at him as you spoke, knowing you’d start to blush. “For the, uh, recommendation. Really helped us a lot.” You finally gathered the courage to look, to only find him still smiling, only to realize it had morphed a little.

To something more… Nefarious.

“Yeah, well,” You said, swirling his drink while chuckling slightly. “At least one of us is.” The sentence threw you out of any sort of emotions you were feeling. “Excuse me?” You asked, confused. He laughs again, but it’s a little strained. “I mean, I helped you out with your little bakery, and when I asked you for help, you gave me a career-ending lie.” You felt your blood run cold. You knew he was referring to the fabricated alibi you provided for him, and now his expression showed no trace of the charming demeanour he had before.

You take a moment to gather your thoughts, trying to maintain composure despite the sudden turn in the conversation. Atsumu's accusation hangs heavy in the air, and you realize there's no easy way out of this.

“I think career-ending is a bit much.” You say, trying to downplay how serious his words sounded. Truly, at the time when you didn’t think he was someone with a huge following, you didn’t think much of what you were saying. It was stupid, it was funny, and you were bored. But did you ever stop to consider your actions might’ve had consequences?

No. No, you did not.

“You can say that when you don’t have a bunch of reporters breathing down your neck, and your endorsements aren’t on the line.” Atsumu took a sip of his drink, his calmness now slightly terrifying you. You end up taking a sip of your untouched champagne, now needing something to take the edge off.

“What do you want Miya?” You inquire, unable to ignore the mounting tension between the two of you. You figured he wanted something, why else would he invite you at all. But what, you couldn’t fathom.

What was there you could do?

Atsumu takes another sip, finishing his drink before putting it on the bar. He leans closer to you, beginning to feel the warmth from his body. You freeze, unable to move, until you see him point slightly to a crowd of people. “Emiko’s right over there. I want you to explain to her that you lied.” He practically whispered, and you immediately felt your mouth gaped.

Absolutely no fucking way.

You stared at Atsumu, incredulous. The request seemed beyond unreasonable, almost bordering on absurd. “You want me to—right now?” Your voice came out more high-pitched than you intended, betraying the mix of surprise and frustration boiling within you.

Atsumu's gaze didn't waver, his expression holding a firm resolve. "Yeah. It's only fair, ain't it?" His tone was cool, and calculated, a stark contrast to the playful banter you'd witnessed in your previous encounters. The underlying seriousness of the situation pierced through the tension-laden air.

A surge of frustration and helplessness flooded your senses. You hadn’t anticipated this turn of events, hadn’t expected to be faced with such a daunting demand amid an event you were completely ill-prepared for. Your mind raced, contemplating your options in the split seconds that passed.

“Look,” you began, trying to keep your voice steady despite the knot of anxiety tightening in your chest. “I understand your situation, but I can't just go up to someone and—”

Atsumu’s eyes narrowed slightly, his tone dropping a degree lower. “Ya did it for me once. What's stoppin' ya now?” His gaze held an intensity that made it hard to look away. His words struck a chord, reminding you of the ill-conceived favour you'd granted him earlier, never expecting it to come back with such weight. You scoffed, unable to fathom just how ridiculous the comparison was.

Before you could respond, he continued, “Either ya help me out here, or things could get real messy for ya. Just like how I recommended you, I can recommend other places. Heavily recommended other places.” The threat was subtle yet unmistakable, a subtle reminder of the leverage he held in this situation. You felt taken aback. You could understand a threat personal to you, but to threaten the bakery, Funaba-san.

There was something so cruel about it, your stomach churned.

Your mind raced, scrambling for a way out of this predicament. You knew the potential repercussions if this confrontation went wrong—this was a situation you couldn’t afford to mishandle. But facing that woman and revealing the truth seemed like an insurmountable task, especially during this glamorous gala.

Taking a steadying breath, you attempted to negotiate, to find some middle ground. “Can we talk about this—”

Atsumu's expression hardened, his patience wearing thin. “I ain’t got time to negotiate. Either you do this now or deal with the consequences later.” His words carried a finality that left no room for further discussion.

Fighting a rising wave of panic, you glanced in the direction he had pointed earlier, spotting Emiko amidst the crowd. She stood conversing with a small group of people, her graceful demeanour and poised presence seeming even more intimidating now. Your heart raced, and you struggled to find your footing in this unfamiliar and daunting situation.

A sense of desperation washed over you. You knew you had no choice. Your gaze shifted back to Atsumu, and despite the turmoil swirling within, you managed to conjure a facade of composure. “Fine,” you finally relented, your voice tight with resignation.

Atsumu's expression softened imperceptibly, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. He gestured subtly towards Emiko before leaning back, watching intently as you began to navigate through the maze of elegantly dressed guests.

As you traversed the room, a labyrinth of couture and sophistication, you could feel the weight of Atsumu's gaze on your back, a subtle reminder of the daunting task ahead. The meticulous eyes of the attendees followed your movements, their murmurs a hushed backdrop to the pounding of your heart.

You approached the woman who you still didn’t know, who was engrossed in a conversation with another guest, her expression composed yet guarded. As you drew closer, she glanced up, her gaze meeting yours with a discerning intensity. A brief flicker of acknowledgment passed between you before Emiko excused herself from the conversation, her attention fully turning to you.

“Excuse me,” you began tentatively, not knowing how else to start. She turned towards you, her poised smile faltering slightly as she regarded you with a painted polite curiosity.

“Hi, I'm—”

“Oh my god. You’re that girl from the shitty bakery.” Your eyes twitched at your description, before you feigned a bashful chuckle, trying your best to look graceful. “Yes, I am. I actually wanted to talk to you about—“

“Thanks for letting me know about Atsumu. I seriously dodged a bullet with him. To think of what he did.” You felt your blood pressure rise, noticing a pattern in her speech. You once again, chuckle, albeit more a little more strained. “Yeah, well about that,” You quickly glance over at the bar, seeing Atsumu standing tall burning holes into your person. Immediately you felt your body heat up as a wave of anxiety washed over you.

“I actually, uh,” You rubbed your hands, attempting to self-soothe as you tried to build up the words to the woman looking at you with a growing suspicious gaze. “Made up the whole thing.” You did your best not to wince at your words, but you couldn’t contain the amount of stupidity you felt as Emiko processed your words, looking extremely confused.

“Did his PR team send you?”

Your stomach plummeted at Emiko's words, the way she nonchalantly dismissed your attempt to rectify the situation. Her polite smile and dismissive tone sent a ripple of frustration and anxiety coursing through you. This was not going according to plan. To be honest, you didn’t know what the plan was even supposed to be, but you knew this wasn’t it.

“No, I—uh, listen, that whole thing was a misunderstanding," you stammered, the words tumbling out in a flustered jumble. You tried to explain, to convey the gravity of the situation, but she waved a manicured hand as if swatting away your words.

She continued, her voice carrying a cutting edge of condescension. "I can't believe he would bring you out here to try and do some damage control."

The dismissive tone struck a nerve, igniting a spark of defiance within you. But the mounting pressure to set things right had you grasping at straws. In that pivotal moment, the room seemed to narrow down to just you and Emiko, her cool demeanour contrasting sharply with the brewing chaos inside you. The pressure to rectify the situation collided with the need to evade the consequences, causing a whirlwind of thoughts to race through your mind at lightning speed.

Your chest tightened with the weight of the situation, a sense of desperation clouding your judgment. You could feel the eyes of the other attendees, hidden behind their polished facades, casting glances your way, adding to the heat of the moment.

Struggling to grasp onto anything that might mitigate the looming disaster, your voice quivered as the words spilled out, the lie gaining momentum before you could halt it. “He—Atsumu and I, we had a thing...a sort of a fling,” you stumbled over the words, each syllable tasting more like deceit than you had ever imagined. Your heart hammered in your chest as you watched Emiko's expression, seeking any sign that your words had landed believably. But the silence that followed felt cavernous, pregnant with the weight of your hastily concocted falsehood.

Emiko's perfectly sculpted eyebrow arched higher, her gaze dissecting your face for any flicker of truth beneath the layers of your falsehood. The room felt stifling, the atmosphere charged with tension as the magnitude of your lie hung between you.

“I—I made up that story because I was, um, jealous? Yeah, jealous of you and him,” you continued, the words feeling like bricks tumbling down, building a wall of deceit around you. The strain of maintaining this facade threatened to suffocate you, but there was no turning back now.

As your hastily woven lie hung heavy in the air, Emiko’s expression shifted, her perfectly arched eyebrow raising further in surprise. For a moment, the room seemed suspended in silence, the weight of your words palpable.

"So, you and Atsumu have something going on?" Emiko’s voice cut through the tension, her tone a mix of disbelief and thinly veiled curiosity. Her gaze bore into you, seemingly dissecting every nerve, searching for a trace of truth in your fabricated tale.

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks, your pulse quickening as you tried to maintain a façade of confidence. “I, um, yeah...” Your voice faltered, trailing off as you struggled to find the right words to bolster your unconvincing story.

The lie hung in the air, and a flicker of disbelief crossed Emiko's expression before she composed herself, her features settling into a mask of poise.

"I had a feeling," she said with a hint of something you couldn’t discern. “You were eyeing each other pretty hard.” Her statement confuses you, not understanding how she could’ve possibly gotten that from the one interaction in the bakery, but you weren’t about to correct her.

Unexpectedly, Emiko’s demeanor softened a faint understanding glinting in her eyes. “It’s always something with PR teams. They never respect genuine relationships,” she mused, almost to herself, oblivious to the sheer discomfort gripping you.

You squirmed internally, feeling the weight of her assumptions pressing down on you. How had this spiralled into a tale of fabricated romance? You wanted to clarify, to admit the truth and extricate yourself from this tangled web of deceit, but Emiko’s unwavering belief in your words halted any attempt to set the record straight.

“Honestly, it’s exhausting, isn’t it?” Emiko continued, her voice carrying a hint of frustration. “But if you two are together now, I hope it’s not just another publicity stunt. Atsumu’s been through enough of those.”

You could feel your heart hammering against your ribcage, the intensity of this misunderstanding almost suffocating. You rub the back of your head, not knowing what else to add and wanting to leave as soon as possible, you point back to the other side of the room. “I uh, need to get going. Nice talking to you.” You mumble, to which Emiko doesn’t respond only looking at you and having her eyes flicker to behind you, something glistening in her eye.

As you turned to leave, a nagging sense of unease accompanied you, the weight of the lie heavier than ever. You managed a hasty nod in Emiko’s direction before stepping away, eager to put distance between yourself and the uncomfortable situation.

As you navigated the maze of elegantly dressed attendees, a sense of urgency propelled each step. You dared not look back, not wanting to meet Atsumu's gaze, fearing the inevitable confrontation about the fabricated tale you had just spun. Your mind raced, contemplating your escape from the scene without encountering him.

However, just as you neared the edge of the room, a voice sounded behind you, shattering the fragile facade you’d been trying to maintain. “How’d it go?”

You froze mid-step, the sound of Atsumu’s voice sending a chill down your spine. You turned slowly, forcing a tight-lipped smile as you faced him, a cascade of excuses forming on your tongue. But the intensity in his eyes, a piercing gaze that seemed to dissect your every thought, left you struggling for words.

“It...uh, went fine,” you managed, your voice betraying a hint of unease. You attempted to keep your gaze steady, to convey an air of nonchalance that you certainly didn’t feel.

Atsumu narrowed his eyes, his expression shifting into one of skepticism. “Just fine?” His tone was laced with an insistent curiosity, his gaze almost probing as if trying to read between the lines of your evasion.

“Yeah,” you replied, your words faltering as you tried to mask the unease brewing inside you. “Nothing much to it, really. Just a conversation.”

Atsumu’s stare bore into you, a subtle yet palpable pressure that made it difficult to maintain eye contact. You prayed that your discomfort wasn’t as obvious as it felt, hoping against hope that he’d buy your half-hearted explanation.

Before either of you could say more, a commotion erupted across the room, drawing Atsumu’s attention away. One of his teammates waved him over urgently, breaking the tension between the two of you. You saw the man make quick eye contact with you, and you immediately looked to the ground.

“Gotta go,” he muttered, sparing you one last curious glance before heading off, his brisk strides carrying him toward his teammate.

Relief washed over you as you watched him leave, the weight of the conversation still lingering in the air like a dense fog. Your gaze fell to the ground, seeking solace in the anonymity of the marble floor as you edged your way out of the bustling hall.

You had a feeling this was going to bite you in the ass.

#haikyuu #fanfic #writing prompt #writing #hq x reader #humour #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu #atsumu x reader #msby atsumu #hq atsumu #osamu miya #miya twins

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