#if you’re not careful we are gonna be bffs | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gyuuberryy · 4 months

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fight for my way!

pairing: best friend’s brother!heeseung x martial artist!reader x bff!jungwon, ft lee chaeyeon as your best friend

summary: you’ve harboured a huge crush on your bff’s brother, heeseung for quite a bit. each encounter with him has you stuttering and blushing like a mess much to the dismay of your best friend, jungwon. it’s summer vacation, but unfortunately you won’t have the time to relax as you battle with your newfound feelings instead of kicking someone’s ass in training for taekwondo. you certainly did not sign up for this

genre: f2l, best friend’s brother trope, crack??, coming of age, jungwon and mc practice taekwondo

warnings: making out, fighting, angst, fluff, swearing, mc beats up someone, mentions of blood, mc is super embarrassing and a major simp teehee, flirty heeseung(as always), i know nothing about taekwondo so please excuse me if i made any mistakes related to it

note: nothing based off the drama ahaha. this was originally a txt fic, now republished as an enha one(it's edited). i wrote this like a year ago and idk why but some parts of it give off disney movie vibes💀 enjoy!!!

word count: 8.1kish

If you liked it please reblog or comment to give me your feedback! <3

you knew it’s wrong to simp over your friends, but you couldn’t help it.

since when did yang jungwon get so hot?

you hadn’t even worn your dobok yet and you were already sweating just looking at him box with that punching bag. his arm muscles flexed and rippled deliciously, and his face which was contorted into a focused expression, glimmered under the studio lights due to the layer of sheen sweat that coated his body. a drop rolled down the bridge of his nose and was about to land on his lips when he stopped and wiped it off. the sudden change in movement brought you out of your daydream and you mentally punched yourself for drooling over one of your best friends.

you need to stop simping over anyone who is even the slightest bit hot.

slinging your bag over your shoulder, you walked towards the locker room to get changed. shuffling through your belongings, you tried to find the plastic in which you had kept your dobok, when you were startled by the feeling of someone's hand on your back. you looked behind to see your best friend chaeyeon grinning at you.

“you’re a bit early today.”, she stated.

“yeah, my mom kicked me out of the house at six in the morning.” you sighed, “i was wandering around till class started.”

chaeyeon patted your shoulder sympathetically. ever since the summer holidays for your senior year had started, your mom had been making sure you didn’t laze around the house and be productive everyday. this was the last year for your taekwondo training and then you would finally receive your black belt. so, your mom felt it was important for you to go for training.

every. single. day.

honestly, you were a bit pissed in the beginning because you couldn’t join the rest of your school friends on their month long trip to kyoto. but, jungwon and chaeyeon were staying back as well for their training, so it wasn’t that bad.

you wore the white jacket on top of your t-shirt and slipped your belt through the white loops. your pants were almost up your calves when chaeyeon spoke again.

“do you wanna come over to my house in the evening? we should get started on our physics project.

you jumped in excitement at her offer, “is your brother gonna be there?”

chaeyeon slapped your arm, “why does that matter? we have to do our work, i’m not going to sit there and watch you fangirl over him.”

ah yes, chaeyeon's brother, lee heeseung.

the man you were absolutely smitten with.

the perfect, handsome, smart and talented golden boy of the school.

your crush of three years.

and lately, it felt like he was reciprocating your feelings as well because he had started flirting with you back. you didn’t care if you were being delusional, you would take any chance to interact with him, which is why you were always ecstatic to visit chaeyeon’s house.

“just tell me please”, you dragged out your sentence in a whiny voice, making chaeyeon hiss at the annoying sound.

“okay okay, he’s going to be there. he has nothing to do this week.”

you squealed and pumped your fist in the air. chaeyeon just rolled her eyes at your actions and pulled you out of the locker room to join the training.

you lay spread eagle on the blue foam mat. your arms felt like wet, heavy ham and the muscles in your thighs felt like they were stretched to the maximum. you really shouldn’t have skipped your warm up, but you had no idea how rigorous today’s training would be. your coach was hellbent on making sure you perfected your double roundhouse kick and only let you take a break when you got the hang of it. these were probably the most tiring four hours of your life.

suddenly, a handsome face came into your view as the person loomed over your body and blocked the light, making you jolt up. after getting a closer look you realised it was just your best friend, jungwon. you stomped on his feet out of annoyance.

“you startled me man.”

“i thought you fell asleep”, he huffed at your actions “let’s go home now, my stomach is gonna digest itself if i don’t feed it anything soon.”

you rolled your eyes at his exaggeration and went towards the locker room to get your belongings.

chaeyeon had already left before you both, so you took the shorter route towards your house. usually, you both would drop her off along the way and then walk back together since you lived right next to each other.

the walk back home was rather silent, filled with occasional slurps of the popsicles you both had bought. your walks home were usually always filled with a comfortable science accompanied by some type of snack. lately, you both had been trying to eat all the popsicle flavours of the new trending brand. so today, you both tried the cherry lime flavour and honestly, it was absolutely disgusting. you stared at the bright red and green ice on the stick and grimaced.

“this tastes really bad”, you stuck out your tongue in disgust “especially the cherry side, it’s just frozen cough medicine.”

jungwon shrugged his shoulders, “i kind of like it, the combination is nice.”

you wrinkled your nose at his remark, “you have bad taste.”

he turned to look at you with mock hurt on his face when you noticed a red stain from the popsicle on the corner of his lips. you walked up to him and tried to rub off the insistent stain from the corner of his lips, making jungwon freeze in his spot. you looked at him to be met with his eyes already staring at your face. his face looked flushed and his eyes were wide open. his eyes.

they were so mesmerising, looking like pools of freshly brewed coffee that always held a sparkle in them. you quickly moved away when jungwon suddenly spoke up.

“w-what are you doing?”

you cleared your throat and looked away, “you had a red stain on your face.”

these types of awkward encounters had been frequenting a lot between you both lately and you felt slightly bothered by it.

he rolled his eyes and tried to play it off, “your lips are green, eat the cherry part also. you look like mike wazowski.”

“shut up.”, you muttered while wiping your lips.

you handed your half eaten popsicle to him and resumed walking. feeling disgusted by the sight of him gorging down both of the disgusting frozen treats you decided to change the topic.

“i’m going to chaeyeon's house later to start our physics project.”

jungwon nodded absentmindedly at that.

“hee is gonna be there too”, you sighed dreamily, making him glare at you.

“why are you still obsessed with that bastard?”

you gasped in offence, “how dare you call him that? he’s an amazing guy.”

jungwon chucked the ice cream sticks in the nearby dustbin a bit too forcefully for your liking. every mention of heeseung’s name always riled him up. both of them were academic rivals, always competing for the top spot, which was why they were never nice to each other and always bickered. but you were not letting their issue meddle with your non-existent love life.

“he’s annoying and not a nice guy”, jungwon walked faster making you break out into a slight jog.

“just last week i saw him walking around with a new chick.” he threw his hands in the air, “how could he do that when he just dumped his girlfriend!”

yeah that was true. heeseung was a bit of a playboy. you weren’t surprised though, his good looks and personality had girls throwing themselves on him right and left and he just accepted it. you didn't mind, you were ready to forgive him for that.

“i don’t care, i know he would never hurt someone intentionally.”

jungwon shook his head at your obvious lovesickness. you were too blinded by your crush to notice the possibility of getting hurt. you waved him off when you reached your driveway.

“bye won, i have to pick an outfit for the evening.”

jungwon didn’t bother looking at you and just simply reminded you that it wasn’t a date. but who cares? definitely not you.

the shiny silver doorbell was waiting for you, inviting you to press it, but you just stood like a fool at chaeyeon’s doorstep. why were you getting nervous for absolutely no reason?(heeseung). it’s not like this was your first time visiting her house.

you dismissed your worry with a nervous chuckle and smoothened your hair down one last time. the summer heat was making it frizzier by the second and you had to look your best for heeseung, which meant you had to enter the house soon. taking a deep breath, you finally pressed the doorbell.

a few moments later, the door swung open, unveiling the most beautiful sight known to mankind—heeseung's beaming face. he gave your outfit a quick once-over, and his smile evolved into a teasing smirk. glancing down at your sage green tank top and acid-washed denim shorts, a hint of uncertainty crept in. were they not to his liking? despite your attempt at a casual look, a moment of self-doubt lingered in the air.

“what’s up?”

his voice broke you out of your dilemma. now you felt too scared to respond. taking another deep breath you tried to keep your voice steady.

“i’m here to study with chaeyeon.”

for some reason, his smirk grew even wider as he checked you out once again, casually leaning against the doorframe. wait, was he actually checking you out? you really sucked at this love stuff because you had absolutely no idea what was going on. were you reading into things too much?"

“studying during summer break?”

he raised his eyebrows as if reminding you to speak. you cleared your throat, “yeah we have to complete a physics project.”

he nodded. “chaeyeon is out running errands though. she won’t be back for another hour.”

you frowned at that information, “but she told me to come over.” heeseung shrugged his shoulders, motioning for you to come in.

“you can wait in her room.”

you had no choice but to agree because he had already started walking in. you sighed and mentally sent a prayer to all the gods to prevent you from embarrassing yourself further.

suddenly, he stopped in his steps and spinned around to face you. you immediately forced your feet to stop walking to prevent crashing into him. “do you want to watch a movie with me instead?”

your heart dropped to your toenails at his words. as much as you wanted to jump at the offer, there was no way you would survive an entire movie with him without embarrassing yourself.

tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you tried to look as apologetic as possible, “actually i should get started on my work, maybe another time?”

heeseung shrugged, “yeah sure.”

you gave him a sheepish smile and started your ascent up the stairs to chaeyeon's room. the entire time, you could feel a pair of eyes burning into your back. the outfit was a good choice. smirking to yourself, you pushed the door to chaeyeon's room open.

it had been over an hour and so far you had listed out all the main points and subheadings to be included in your project. you had no idea when chaeyeon would come back; every time you called her she would say that she'll be home soon. there was a lot of rush at the supermarket she had forcibly gone to with her mom. you had thought about going back home but your mom wanted you to study as much as you could and it wasn’t evening yet, so here you are.

your face was almost going into the laptop screen because of the amount of concentration you had on finding the perfect template for your ppt. the opening of the door shortly distracted you, but you deemed that it was chaeyeon.

"bro, what took you so long?”, you spoke in a exasperated tone “was it actually that crowded? it's not even a weekend today." you didn't bother looking behind and continued doing your work.

you immediately stopped what you were doing as the feeling of two arms wrapping loosely around your collarbone made you stiffen up. a warm breath fanned your neck sending chills down your spine. "it’s me."

heeseung.

how and why were his arms wrapped around you? you weren't complaining because this was your dream come true but at the same time this was not good for your heart, which at this point was about to beat its way out of your chest.

you rolled your chair away from his hold and stood up, almost about to trip over nothing. you were sure you looked redder than a tomato right now, but you somehow managed the courage to look up at heeseung, who was already staring back at you. his head was tilted slightly and his pink lips were scrunched up in a pout.

brushing a non existent stand of hair away from your face, you decided to question him about his previous actions.

"why did you do that?"

he looked at you innocently in question, as if asking you what?

"the hug, why did you just hug me out of nowhere?"

a look of realisation crossed his face and he just chuckled softly at your question. "i was pretending to be chaeyeon." he smirked, "why? don't friends hug each other?"

if he was flirting with you or friend zoning you, you had absolutely no idea. you had to change the conversation quickly.

"why did you come up, is chaeyeon back now?"

"she's on the way now," he pointed towards the door, "i just made some rose lemonade. let's go drink that while you wait."

you nodded and followed him down to the kitchen. you leaned against the marble counter, trying to look as calm and collected as possible while heeseung fetched the pitcher full of the pink drink. suddenly, he turned around and started walking towards you, making you instantly freeze at your spot with an awkward smile etched onto your face. he got closer and stopped once his feet were almost touching yours. giving you a dashing smile he slowly leaned forward. was he going to kiss you?

your dream is finally coming true! you closed your eyes and puckered your lips slightly in anticipation for his to land on them. but that never happened. you opened your eyes to see a wide eyed heeseung staring back at you with two glasses in his hand. oh, he was only reaching for the glasses behind you.

embarrassment washed over you, making your cheeks flame up in shame as heeseung chuckled. you really wanted to melt away into a big puddle of nothing right now. clearing your throat you snatched a glass from his hand and poured yourself the lemonade. heeseung watched you with an amused smile as you chugged down the entire glass in one go to cool down your burning cheeks.

“was it that good?”

you nodded enthusiatically, “you have to send me the recipe!”

heeseung laughed at your reaction and poured you another glass. he probably had the most beautiful laugh and you could hear it on replay for hours. you smiled dreamily at him. by now, literally everyone knew about your humongous crush on him.

the thing was, you had horrible flirting skills and were always oblivious if someone showed interest in you. your exemplary skills in taekwondo and bubbly personality had attracted many but you ended up friendzoning them unintentionally. you only had eyes for heeseung, who was currently washing the dishes you both had drunk from. he was such boyfriend material. you stood up straight once he spoke up.

“my friend is hosting a party this friday.” he turned off the tap and wiped his hands on the kitchen towel. “i’m sure you know who jake is.” you hummed in reply.

“you should come, it’ll be fun.”

you were usually never interested in parties, in fact you never had the time to even think about it while juggling school and taekwondo together. but, you had a bit of free time now since school was off. and heeseung’s offer kind of seemed like he was asking you on a date? you can’t just straight up ask him that so maybe you should just go and find out. this could finally be your moment to directly confess your feelings. you were getting tired of holding them back.

“okay,” you smiled, “i’ll be there.”

heeseung’s face brightened up at your words. “that's great-”

“can i bring jungwon as well?”

his smile dropped, but he nodded somewhat enthusiastically, which didn’t really show on his face. oh right, they hate each other. the air turned awkward at the mention of his name and you were brainstorming things to change the subject when you were saved by the doorbell.

you immediately perked up the sound, “ah, i think chaeyeon is home.”

heeseung gave a forced smile back, “yeah, have fun with your project. i have some work to do. i’ll see you on friday.” with that, he walked back to his room.

your face fell at his sudden change of behaviour. you knew he had no work to do this week because chaeyeon had told you so. it was kind of weird but you assumed it was probably because you mentioned jungwon. he shouldn’t dislike him so much though, afterall he was one of his sister’s closest friends. shrugging it off you walked to the door to let chaeyeon and her mom in.

it was the day of the party and jungwon(who had agreed to attend after much of your insistence) and you stood right outside the door, waiting for someone to open it. chaeyeon had decided not to attend the party and had gone out with her other friends to the amusement park instead. you would have joined her as well because parties were not your thing and you’d rather spend your time riding roller coasters, but this was a matter of love. you had to make sacrifices for your dear heeseung .

the door opened to reveal a beaming jake, “oh hi guys!” he motioned for you both to come inside, “the drinks and snacks are over there and we’re playing games in the living room.” he patted you both on your backs. “have fun!” both of you smiled back at his warm welcome and walked inside the huge bungalow.

the kitchen counter was lined up with all sorts of colourful sodas and delicacies. the living room stretched far and wide, making you gaze at it in awe. colourful fairy lights were strung across the ceiling, setting the people’s face aglow with multiple colours. trending pop songs blared through the speakers and you could feel the bass thump to the beat of your heart. people were spread across the entire house and some of them were gathered outside in the lawn.

jungwon pointed at the people playing games, breaking you out of your trance.“i think they’re setting up a game of twister, let’s go join them!”

you shook your head, “i should go find heeseung first.”

jungwon’s jaw ticked at your words. he rolled his eyes as he spoke, “i don’t think you should do this, he’s not a good guy.”

you frowned at his words, “how do you know? you just hate him because he is better than you in academics.”

he grasped your shoulders and his eyes turned serious. “that’s not the problem. i’ve seen how he treats people. he may act all nice and sweet in front of you, but he’s actually really shallow.”

he sighed at the perplexed look on your face. “he’s a walking red flag and i’ve been trying to get you to understand that for a long time.”

you remained unfazed at his words because just like he had mentioned, he always said the same thing. no matter what happened you were going to try to shoot your shot.

flashing him a sympathetic smile, you patted his shoulder. “sorry buddy, nothing is going to stop me. unless you have feelings for me or something.”

you snickered at your ridiculous thoughts, missing the blush that overtook jungwon’s face. he looked away at your words and shrugged his shoulders.

“okay then, i gave you enough warnings.” rolling your eyes at this dismissive behaviour you grabbed his wrist and dragged him to the group of people setting up the game of twister.

“calm down drama queen, let’s play this first then i can go accomplish my mission.” he sighed and accompanied you as you said.

the game was going pretty well and you were confident in your chances of winning. you were in a fairly easy position compared to others, who had their limbs twisted in all sorts of hilarious ways. especially jungwon, who was basically in an upside down table pose. you tried not to notice the way his biceps were bulging out from under his black turtleneck, but it was hard to do so.

looking away from him, you accidentally made eye contact with heeseung who seemed to have just arrived at the party. you waved at him and motioned that you will talk to him later. he gave a bright smile and flashed a thumbs up at your actions. soon after he looked away, a girl with bright red hair walked up to him and kissed his cheek. your heart shattered at her actions. does he have a girlfriend?

he proved your assumptions incorrect when he pushed her off of him. getting a closer look, you realised it was his ex-girlfriend. she was probably just a psycho. you were planning to spy on them more, but annoyed shouts of your name brought you back to reality.

“what are you doing? you’re the only one left to finish your move, everyone is already done.”

apologising, you looked at the wheel that had decided your next move. looking back at the twister mat, you realised that all the good required spots were taken. the spots that were left for you were only reachable if you bent over jungwon, which meant you would be leaning over him until the next move. you had no idea why you were feeling so nervous about it though. he was your best friend after all, you were the closest to him. you’ve been together since childhood. it was stupid to feel nervous over something so trivial.

putting on a cool exterior, you leaned over him to take your position. both of your arms were placed next to his torso and your face was directly hovering over his. you were shocked to see his cheeks turn red because of the close proximity of you both. he was avoiding eye contact with you and you frowned. one nudge of your elbow brought his eyes back to yours.

deja vu hit you as you couldn’t help but get lost in his mesmerising eyes once again. that one twinkle that was always present in them no matter what, the colour of his orbs and the warmth they held every time they looked at you made you lean in closer. you were so close to each other that you could see your own reflection in his eyes. butterflies filled your stomach and you felt warm and fuzzy all over at the realisation of your close proximity with him. jungwon could now feel your warm breath on his lips, making him close his eyes in anticipation of his next move.

but instead of that, your face crashed onto the expanse of his neck with an embarrassingly loud smooch. some idiot had kicked your leg by accident, which made you lose your balance and bring down jungwon with you. you don’t know what demon possessed you to do this, but you took a big sniff and the smell of vanilla and cologne invaded your senses, making you sigh out in content. the feeling of jungwon’s body stiffening under you brought you out of your stupor and you immediately scrambled to get up. why did you act like a creep, you want to cry now.

you awkwardly rubbed the back of your neck when everyone started clearing away. the game had ended because the idiot who had tripped you had also ended up rolling down the entire mat merrily like a bowling bowl, knocking everyone down.

that wasn't the issue right now though. were you just going to kiss your best friend? there was no way you had any sort of feelings for him. just a month ago you had given him a friendship day bracelet and told him how your friendship had to last forever or you would bite his nose off. so now why were you so curious to know what his lips felt like? you spinned around to see jungwon clutching his chest like he was a heart patient.

trying to push away the recent embarrassing encounter into the deep, dark pits of your brain, you walked up to him and stood silently, gazing at his lips. they were a light rosy shade of pink and looked glossy due to the coat of transparent lip gloss you had applied on them before coming to the party. they looked so soft.

you were shaken out of your thoughts when jungwon flicked your forehead. you gasped and clutched your forehead in pain, “ow, what was that for?”

jungwon smirked as he pulled you closer by your shoulders. “you seem kind of obsessed with me lately. those looks haven’t gone unnoticed by me you know.”

he raised an eyebrow cockily, “are you sure it’s not me you have a crush on?”

you sputtered and coughed like a broken car engine at his words. how did he already guess what was going on in your mind?

shrugging his hands off of you, you gave a firm whack to his chest. “h-how can you even say that! i only have eyes for heeseung, you’re nothing compared to him.”

jungwon snickered and just pulled you into his side, guiding you towards the table full of food you both had been eyeing. he leaned towards your ear and whispered in a low voice.

“i’m pretty sure we were about to do something else back in the game though.”

your face burned with embarrassment. nothing can save you now, jungwon was in his cheeky mode. he was oozing with confidence and you were blushing as bright as a beet.

you huffed in annoyance and pushed him away to speed walk towards the table. not bothering to wait for him to catch up, you picked up two humongous cupcakes, ready to stuff your mouth. suddenly, a hand came up to your shoulder making, you almost drop your food in surprise. thinking it was jungwon, you put the ugliest scowl on your face and turned around to face him.

“what do you-”

you paused midway through your sentence when you realised who was in front of you. it was a smiling heeseung, who looked smoking hot today. he had adorned a tight fitted black shirt with a grey patterned jacket and his hair was styled to show off his gorgeous forehead. you immediately dropped your scowl and put on your most charming smile.

“oh hey heeseung !”

his smile widened at your greeting but all of a sudden, his eyes turned dark when he looked at something behind you. you looked over to see jungwon standing there with two cups in his hand, his expression as cold as ice. they both were practically shooting lasers from their eyes and you could almost feel the heat from it. gulping, you looked away and tried to think of what to say.

“i have to tell you something important.” you blurted out. heeseung finally broke his staring contest with jungwon and smiled at you.

“sure, go ahead.”

okay, this was the perfect time to confess your feelings.

although, for some reason you hesitated before speaking. you could not stop thinking about what happened between you and your best friend today. were you doing the right thing or should you ponder on it more? unfortunately, one raise of heeseung’s eyebrow had you spilling everything out.

“i have a crush on you.”

is this how it feels like to have a heart attack? because suddenly it felt like you couldn’t breathe anymore and your heart was pounding erratically. maybe it wasn’t a good idea to confess if you felt this scared after it.

before you could comprehend heeseung’s reaction to your confession, the feeling of something cold and sticky being poured over you made you scream in shock.

your mouth was hung open in shock as you turned around to see who the culprit was. it was the same girl with cherry red hair who had kissed heeseung on the cheek before.

“what the fuck was that for?”, you spat in anger.

she crossed her arms with a stupid smirk painted onto her face. “you were shamelessly flirting with my boyfriend, i obviously had to do something.” you were about to retort but heeseung beat you to it.

“lena we broke up a week ago, can you stop doing things like this! i’m so sick of you.”

lena just chuckled and shook her head frantically. pushing you out of the way, she walked up to heeseung and cupped his cheeks with her manicured hands.

“no baby, we’re just going through a bad time. we’re still very much in love with each other.”

letting out a tired sigh, he pushed her hands away from his face. “stop being so delusional,” he looked towards you with an apologetic gaze, “why would you pour your drink over her? she’s like a sister to me. that’s not acceptable..”

ouch.

this was worse than getting friendzoned, he sister zoned you.

that too right in front of his ex.

after you confessed your feelings for him.

you tuned out the rest of his words as anger bubbled up inside you. you knew you were not as delusional as the mosquito of a girl in front of you. heeseung had reciprocated your advances sometimes and had even initiated flirting with you. then why would he say all that?

a warm hand clasped around your forearm that was now sticky from the soda that was poured over you. jungwon pulled you towards him gently with a concerned look on his face.

“are you okay? do you want to leave?”, your face softened at his genuine concern.

a mischievous glint appeared in your eyes as you decided on what you were going to do. “give me five minutes jungwon, i'm going to make sure someone pays for ruining my dress.”

jungwon’s eyebrows raised as he understood what you were about to do.

you moved towards lena who was still yapping about how much she loved heeseung, and tapped her shoulder. she pushed her tongue against her cheek when she realised it was you.

“what?”

giving her a condescending smile you motioned towards your outfit that was drenched in the sticky soda. “you’re going to have to pay for the damage you did.”

lena scoffed in disbelief, “and what makes you think i’ll do that? get lost, don’t waste my time.”

she waved you off and turned back to heeseung . even though it was against your morals to fight with someone weaker than you, you were not going to be civil with her anymore.

grabbing a fistful of her obnoxious bright red hair, you yanked her towards you making her yelp in pain. turning her around, you repeated yourself.

“are you going to pay or not?”

she looked at you with a crazed look in her eyes. “of course not you psycho.” she punched you weakly on the jaw making everyone around you gasp in shock.

“you started this”, shrugging you let go of her hair and punched her smack on the nose, making her stumble backwards. a loud crack resonated throughout the room. lena shrieked in pain as her hands became red from trying to stop her nose from bleeding. one of her fake eyelashes(which was about half the length of your fingers) had fallen onto the floor due to the impact of your punch.

you pouted mockingly, “i guess you’ll have to get a nose job again.”

wiping away the blood from her face she charged at you with her fist ready to strike, but you easily grabbed her arm making her stagger to stop. you twisted her arm around till it was painfully bent behind her back. she whimpered in pain and tapped on your arm.

“ow please, that hurts.”

you scoffed, “this is nothing, i can do much worse if i want.”

she looked up at heeseung with pleading eyes, “h-heeseung please stop this psychotic bi-”

you tightened your grip on her arm making her groan out in pain. heeseung paid no heed to her words, in fact he was watching the entire scene play out with an amused look on his face.

you looked to your left and tilted your head at jungwon, silently asking him what to do next. he was watching you with a proud smile and nodded his head signalling you to do what you wanted. you gave him a thumbs up and returned back to your situation.

you gave her a firm kick to her shin, making her fall on her knees. she raised her free hand in defeat.

“alright i’ll pay you for the drycleaning i promise!”

you huffed loudly and left her arm causing her to completely collapse on the floor. you nodded towards heeseung with a blank face. “you’re going to leave him alone as well.”

she squeaked out a yes, handed you a fifty dollar bill and scurried away, probably leaving the party.

everyone else cheered loudly for you for standing up to her. you grinned and jogged over to jungwon and grabbed his hand, “how did i do?”

his eyes held affection as he looked you over, “awesome.”

that one word of praise cheered you up instantly, much better than any amount of ice cream would have.

you both were just about to leave the driveway of jake’s house when the shout of your name made you both halt. you turned to see none other than heeseung jog towards you with a set of keys in his hands. he held them out to you and looked at you with an unreadable expression.

“i think you dropped your keys behind.” your eyes widened and you grabbed them from him, thanking him in a small voice.

he stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked you up and down, the action making jungwon’s grip on your hand tighten. “you were really cool back there. i’m glad i got to see you in action.”

you hummed, not knowing what to say. can he not read the room? it felt so awkward to even look at him anymore.

he cleared his throat and his confident persona dropped for a minute as he scratched the back of his neck nervously.

“actually, what i said back there about you being like my sister.” your head shot up at his words. “i didn’t mean any of that.”

he looked at his feet. “i only said that to get lena off your back, but if i knew you would’ve taken care of it yourself, i never would have done that”, he trailed off in his sentence.

jungwon’s voice cut through the tense atmosphere, making you feel relieved as he questioned what you weren’t able to, “cut to the chase.”

heeseung ignored him and looked directly into your eyes. “well i don’t exactly have feelings for you right now, but i really want to make it up to you. you’re a really cool person,” he stepped closer towards you, “i want to take you out for dinner this sunday.”

you could almost feel the anger radiate off jungwon as he spat out his next words, “did you start finding her cool only because she beat your psycho ex-girlfriend up.” he scoffed, “you don’t owe her a favour, she did what was right.” your shoulders slumped at his words. is that how he actually felt?

heeseung rolled his eyes, “please don’t bring your jealousy into the middle of all this. she can make her own decisions.”

both the boys looked at you intently, waiting for you to make your decision. the urge to crawl in a hole and live there forever was extremely strong right now. you really couldn’t handle the pressure. wanting the best of both worlds, you said the first thing that came up to you.

“i’m okay with the dinner.”

heeseung ’s face brightened up in victory whilst jungwon dropped his hand from yours in defeat.

why was he so upset about it now? it’s not like you were going on a date with heeseung, he made it very clear he doesn’t like you. and why were you so adamant on making sure jungwon understood that?

being born as a dolphin would’ve been so much better at this point. at least you wouldn't have to deal with physics and this romance shit.

it was the day of the dinner and you were currently lacing up your doc martens on your front porch. you had decided to wear a black skirt with a white top and a dark brown coat since it was raining today so it was a bit chilly outside, even though it was the middle of summer. you had only just finished wearing your shoes when your phone started ringing, indicating a video call from chaeyeon.

you furrowed your brows and picked it up, “hello-”

“you absolute moron!” she screamed from the other side making you flinch.

“what happened? since when did you start insulting me, jungwon was enough-”

“this is about him! how could you be so heartless?”, she cut you off once again. you frowned, what did you do to him?

“stop making that face, you look like a pug,” she rolled her eyes, “why are you going out with heeseung today?”

oh so that’s what this is about.

you shook your head, “it’s not really a date, he just wanted to take me out to dinner.”

chaeyeon's lips formed into a thin line at that. “you mean my brother, who’s basically a casanova, is taking you out to a casual dinner?” she shook her head disapprovingly, “i didn’t think you could be so clueless."

you squinted at her in confusion, “just tell me what you want to. don’t beat around the bush. there’s no time for that, he’ll be here any moment.”

pinching her nose in frustration, she let out a deep breath. “jungwon told me the full story of what happened at the party since someone else forgot to.” you gave her a guilty smile at that. chaeyeon caught a horrible flu a few days ago, so you didn’t really get the time to update her on all this.

“he likes you a lot. he’s been hopelessly in love with you since the past five years.”

your jaw hung open at that. there’s no way your suspicions were right. jungwon actually liked you? you felt gooey and warm like a freshly baked brownie right now. you could feel the heat spread through your entire body at the idea of jungwon liking you, something which you noticed was opposite of what you felt when you were around heeseung.

“close your mouth, i can see your internal organs.” you really wanted to slap her right now because her sarcastic commentary really wasn't helping you with the whirlwind of emotions you were going through.

you let out a deep sigh, “i really don’t know chaeyeon. i feel so happy and excited at the thought of that? but also kind of scared. he’s my best friend, you know, i don’t want to mess things up.”

she shook her head at you with pity, “it’s too late for that, you already did.”

“what do you mean?”

“are you kidding me?”, she scoffed. “jungwon is competing in the interstate taekwondo championship today!”

you stood up from your seat in horror, “what! why didn’t you tell me before?”

she wiped her runny nose into her tissue and glared at you, “you’re his closest friend, i didn’t think you would forget something so important.” she sighed, “i can’t attend the fight because of my cold, but you should.”

the honk of a car horn made you look in front to see heeseung waving at you. you mirrored his actions and looked back into your phone. “there’s still time till the fight right?”

she nodded, “kinda, it starts in thirty minutes.”

muttering a ‘shit’, you thanked her for giving you a reality check. she only nodded and coughed into her tissue once again, “it’s up to you to pick between your amazing and sincere best friend or my brother who’s probably only interested in you for your fighting skills.”

nodding solemnly, you cut the call and stuffed your phone into your side bag. by then, heeseung had walked up to your doorstep with an umbrella in his hand.

“are you ready to go?”

your hands were sat on your lap as you watched the rain fall outside of the car window. you were sitting in a rather rigid manner on your seat as you listened to heeseung blabber about some olympiads he had won medals for. you felt bad because you weren’t paying any attention to what he was saying. you couldn't get jungwon off of your mind.

the warmth he made you feel everytime he smiled and when the dimples on his cheeks showed. the way your heart fluttered when you watched him execute taekwondo moves with perfection and the way his face lit up with joy each time he was successful. the butterflies that swarmed your stomach every time you hugged him or held his hand. all of this, you had been brushing them away for so long thinking that this was a normal thing for friends. there was no way you could be more than that. but now realisation seemed to dawn upon you; you had been in love with him all along, perhaps even longer than he has been.

looking next to you, you observed heeseung. he still made you feel nervous and excited, but you realised that this was a different kind of feeling. the kind you feel when you receive updates from your favourite celebrity. it was nothing more than a schoolgirl crush, the one where he was just good eye candy to admire. he didn’t make you feel the comfort and love you felt with jungwon. and you didn’t feel the same way about him either.

you have to see jungwon, right now.

shuffling through your bag for your phone, you frantically checked the time. you still had fifteen more minutes to go before his match started.

“heeseung can you please take me to x stadium instead? i’m so sorry, but i can’t have dinner with you today, i have to go.”

heeseung frowned, “what happened all of a sudden? is it that urgent?”

“yes it is, please turn the car around.”

he nodded, still confused. he was about to question you but stopped when he saw you hold up your phone to your ear, trying to call jungwon so you could tell him you were coming to his match. he received missed calls after missed calls from you, but he didn’t pick up any. his phone was probably with the coach.

soon, heeseung stopped the car at a red light right across the stadium. you asked him to unlock the car door and thanked him for the ride.

his eyes widened, “are you going to walk in the rain? it’ll just take me five more minutes to make a u-turn.”

you shook your head, “there’s no time for that, i’ll miss jungwon-”

“you’re going to see jungwon?”

“yes, i’m sorry for leaving you like this but i can’t miss out on his match. i forgot about it till today,” you sighed, “i also need to tell him something.”

you breathed out in frustration when heeseung just stared at you blankly, not complying to your request. reaching over him you turned off the door locks. you had just stepped one leg out when he stopped you by grabbing your wrist.

“i thought you liked me.”

you looked at him with surprise. what is he playing at? judging by the pissed off expression on his face you could conclude that he was jealous because you were ditching him for his rival.

you gave him a small smile, “i was wrong.”

slamming the car door shut, you dashed off into the rain and crossed the road towards the stadium entrance. you always found the main leads in movies crazy to be running in the heavy rain towards their lover, but you finally understood their situation today. a stupid smile was graced upon your features and you couldn’t wait to tell jungwon everything you felt about him.

upon entering the stadium, you immediately ran towards the direction of the changing rooms and were met with your coach standing in front of it. his eyes widened momentarily upon seeing you all soaked.

“y/n you’re here? what hap-”

“is jungwon inside?”, desperation laced your voice as you questioned him. he nodded, “yes, but he has to be out soon-”

you cut him off once again by thanking him and entered the room behind him. the slam of a door being shut, startled the man standing in front of you, making him drop the water bottle he was holding. he faced you with eyes as wide as saucers, clearly not expecting to see you here.

“you came? but what about your dinner?”

you paced towards him and smacked his shoulder, “screw that, why didn’t you remind me of your match even if i forgot?”

he winced as you whacked him once again, “you know this is equally important to me as much as it is to you!”

he caught your hand when you were going to hit him again. “i didn’t want to disturb your date, i know how badly you want to be with him.”

he tried to mask the hurt on his face by putting on a small smile, but you could see it in his eyes. “this is just one match, i would have told you the results anyways, you didn’t have to-”

you cut him off by grabbing the collar of his white uniform and smashing your lips onto his. jungwon froze for a few seconds but then slowly closed his eyes and cupped your face as he kissed you back. he tilted his head to deepen the kiss and moved his lips with more fervour. the kiss soon turned messy and heated as you both let out your years of pent up feeling you couldn’t say. his lips were cushiony soft and tasted like vanilla and peppermint. your brain felt like it turned to mush as you moved your lips against his addictive ones. damn, if you knew he was such a good kisser, you would’ve asked him out yourself long ago.

your knees were about to give out from the intensity of the kiss, so he wrapped one of his hands around your waist and pulled you flush against him. when you felt like you couldn’t breathe anymore you pushed him by his chest away slightly, but he only chased your lips for more, muffling the squeal that came out from you with his lips. he pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth, then your nose, your cheeks and continued to pepper kisses all over your face, making you giggle in glee. he pulled away and held your face as if you were the most precious gem in the world. you felt your cheeks heat up as you looked at his lips which were swollen and glossy from kissing.

“i like you so so much y/n”, his cheeks bunched up and his eyes crinkle at the corners from smiling so happily.

you kissed the dimple that appeared on his cheek and grinned at him.

“i like you a lot, too pretty boy.”

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circeyoru · 2 months

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Gone Too Young = Collab

[Human & Demon!Alastor x Male BFF!Reader] - Platonic

Part 1 (here) — Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4

I am SO excited to share this story with everyone! It’s like a first (successful) collab for me, very accidental start but love the progress we had! (hopefully not the end) There’s gonna be more parts to this.

You don’t recall your parents. You knew you had them but their faces were blurry. All you remember was darkness, then there was warmth around you and voices so soft and caring that was directed at you. Your hands reached out and held something, it was warm too. Looking back, it was your small child form grabbing onto whatever affection sent your way

At the orphanage, you were one of the eldest. As a big brother, you cared for the little ones and the abandoned. You would wake up early then help set up breakfast with everyone and clean a little, after that it was school time, do a bit of helping out in town here and there for some food or penny or anything, then return home to where your brothers and sisters were waiting

It was a normal day at school where you were surrounded by friends that didn’t care about your orphaned background, friends you were grateful for. Just as they left early to grab a good spot for your lunch break, you stayed behind to help the teacher organize the homework that was handed in a messy pile

When you were done, you took your paper bag with your lunch sandwich inside and headed to your usual spot that you knew your friends were waiting for, as you saw them waving from the windows. You wanted to wave back, but your head turned in another direction to sounds of shoving and muffled hits. Your eyes widened at the sight. A group of bullies ganging up on someone smaller and weaker

“Hey!” Your serene and carefree expression turned to a scowl, taking heavy steps to the group. “What do you think you’re doing to him!?”

The bullies waved you off, threatening to hit you if you interfered. Even if you were the popular kid and liked by the teachers, you should not be sticking your neck in others’ business. Your eyes turned to the boy on the floor, even though his head was tilted down and his hair covering his eyes, you knew he was looking back at you with plead

You didn’t say anything and left the scene, ignoring how the bullies laughed and taunted the boy even more, saying that no one was going to help him. You returned quickly, this time with the disciplinary teacher next to you. You pointed at the group of bullies and told everything, coming to the boy’s aid to have him stand instead of staying on the floor

As soon as the teacher brought the group away to punish them, you brought the boy to the nurse’s office. In silence, you cared for the boy’s wounds on his exposed arms and legs. You noted him flinching with each touch and figured he wasn’t one for physical touch, so you made quick work. This scene was so familiar to you. When you were smaller, you wanted to help and got hurt then the staff would scold you while tending to your wounds, now you were caring for your little brothers and sisters in case they got hurt

“I would have helped you earlier, but it was better to get a teacher. Sorry for leaving you.” You apologized, you had noticed the newer wounds that weren’t there when you first saw him. He shook his head. Shy, you observed. You whacked your head around as you tried to remember which class and level he was from. Oh, that quiet kid at the back corner. “You’re… Alastor?”

The boy, Alastor, nodded. Before you could continued, the nurse door opened and your friends were rushing in. All asking you question after question, showing their concern to you after seeing what happened in the hallways from the outside. You reassured them you were fine, even introducing Alastor to the group

So began a wonderful friendship

To you, Alastor was like a hidden gem, he shined so brightly under the right conditions. He had a nack for speech, he was comfortable with expressing himself through art. He was even a fast running and knew all sorts of interesting facts about the forest near town because he frequents there

Everyone took a liking to Alastor just as they did you. Most would even joke that if one of you were a girl, then the two of you would be the perfect couple. You and Alastor both laughed it off, seeing it as silly

Though you did notice how Alastor was more clingy and close towards you. Sure the two of you were surrounded with friends and by now the two of you were the popular kids, but there was this unspoken close friendship that the two of you share. It was a good feeling, a form of affection that was only between the two of you

“I want to be the town mayor! Oh, or a doctor! Or a lawyer! They make so much money! When I do, I can give it all to the orphanage and get everyone a new place to live and new clothes to change too! Wait, but doctors and lawyers need to read alot… I prefer working, those are easier…” You paced around, your hands waving all over the place as you thought it over, the blank piece of paper flying around at each of your wave

Alastor chuckled, watching you with a soft smile while leaning against the tree. His own blank white sheet of paper next to him with two pens. “You can only pick the one job, silly. And you don’t have to think hard anyways, it’s just school work.”

You turned back to him, glaring down at him with a pair of narrowed eyes. “Well, I’m not wasting time thinking later! I want to help out now! Everyone takes care of me, I want to do something too.”

“But you are doing ‘something’, you’re the only kid that help out this much and not play.” Alastor noted out, rolling his eyes. He groaned as he slide down a bit, “I’m just gonna write whatever comes to mind, a hunter maybe? Or librarian? Something… I don’t know.”

When he looked up, his gaze was immediately met with yours, deep in thought. “Why not a radio host?” Alastor blinded, wondering why silently. “Did you know? You enjoy the spotlight and you strive in it. Plus your voice has this… Uhh… allure? That the right word? Yeah. Allure to it. I think you can hook anyone listening to your attention.”

It was Alastor’s turn to think as he mumbled, “A radio host. I don’t know. It’s a big deal and everyone listens to the radio.”

You sat next to him, careful to avoid getting into his comfort zone. But you don’t notice him shifting closer as you waved your hand once more while talking. “Exactly! I think you’re perfect for the job, just think Alastor, New Orleans’ new rising radio host! Loved and envy by all the enchanted listeners!” You smirked at your friend, “Has a nice ring to it, yeah?”

Alastor though it over again and shrugged, saying that he wouldn’t be able to make it anyways. Your chatting was cut short when the homeroom teacher came over the whack you both on the heads, lightly scolding you two to work on your assignments and not chat

The teacher even brought you away from Alastor to another tree so you wouldn’t interrupt him and he wouldn’t sidetrack you. You sat under your tree glaring at the piece of paper before asking the teacher if you could write a list of jobs you wanna do instead of doing just one, the teacher denied your request and firmly told you to pick one

All the while you were negotiating with the teacher, you didn’t catch Alastor giggling to himself at your childishness. He looked down at his paper and took the pen, in a neat cursive, he wrote, “Radio Host. The best in the state.”

Note: So this is labelled as collab cause ideas were joint and discussed~ Plotline and what to write has been decided, I just need to write them out in more detail.

My lovely collaborator is @blubugg13

Circe Y.

Taglist: (if you want to be added, specify if you want to be tagged for this series only or all my works)

@aconfusedwonderland

#Circe's Nighty Writings #Circe's requested writings #alastor imagine #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor headcanons #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor #hazbin hotel oneshots #alastor fanfiction #hazbin hotel imagines #Gone Too Young #yandere alastor x reader #yandere alastor

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sw33t-d1vine · 6 months

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YOU’RE SO CREEPY

SPRINGTRAP x GN!READER

ー cw : fluff , halloween !!!! , just u dressing up as springtrap :3

ー word count , 2671

ー a/n : hii !! october has been so busy.. BUT , in honour of the fnaf movie and halloween , i have this fic !!! im also changing my theme again…. this fic was inspired by my own halloween costume :3 i dressed up as him for halloween…. AND one of the costumes mentioned at the end is a costume my bff went as ! i hope u all like this silly fic :3 i’ll get back to reqs soon !!!

・Enjoy what you read ? come join my discord server to see sneak peaks and chat with me and other friends ! Link in my pinned post :)

ー Halloween was something most people adored, including yourself. This year, you had picked to go as Springtrap for your costume. You had made the ears, customized and DIY’ed the whole costume, and prop. Maybe no one would know who you were going as, but who cared. Maybe you just wanted to dress up as a killer zombie bunny.

Springtrap had yet to even see your costume, let alone even know what you are. You only told him it was a surprise, and he’d have to wait and see. Which he thought was stupid.

That was a few weeks ago. He waited days just to see what you were gonna dress up as, and when you came downstairs all dressed up in your costume, his dead heart almost stopped.

His eyes trailed over your body, looking at every detail on the costume. The fake bones sticking out, the fake wires all hanging out, and the big ears on your head that matched his. You had also done your own makeup, making it look like you had scares everywhere.

You really pulled this costume off, he loved it. Even if he didn’t like his own form, he loved how you dressed up as him. It was.. cute.

You held the fake knife prop you made in your hand, giving him a shy smile. “Thoughts?”

Springtrap let out a hum, “I love it.” He tilted his head, watching you do a spin to show off the rest of it. “Very detailed.. and you made all of it?”

Nodding your head, your smile grew. “I did. Since you don’t come to my room a lot, it was pretty easy to hide it from you.” You explained, fiddling with the fake knife.

“How long did it take?” He asked, cocking his head to the side, his ears slightly flopping.

You thought for a moment, thinking. It really didn’t take too long to make.. You thrifted most of the costume and just heavily styled it and added fake wires and such. “I’d say maybe.. 2 or 3 days. Not too long.” You chuckled.

“It’s still very well done..” Springtrap hummed, glancing at the front door. You had left a bowl of candy so you could give them out to trick or treaters. He wished he could do it with you, but he knows he’d probably scare any kids that came. Which would be funny to him, but you’d probably scold him later about it.

When the doorbell rang, you turned your head to the door as well. “Looks like we have our first trick or treater.” You hummed, walking over to the door.

Springtrap watched you hand out the candies to the kids, one who was dressed up as Coraline, and another was a ghost. How cute.

The night went on for a while, kids coming to the door and you handing candies out. A few kids questioned your costume, and you only said you were dressed up as a zombie rabbit. They wouldn’t exactly understand who you were dressed up as.. but he did. and he adored it.

He adored you.

#william afton #fnaf #springtrap #five nights at freddys #fnaf william afton #william afton x reader #william afton x you #springtrap x reader #five nights at freddy's

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sseastar · 10 months

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제이크 、SIM JAEYUN !

— THE ONE WHERE YOU’RE TWO OBLIVIOUS BEST FRIENDS

info. jake x reader. fluff. childhood bffs to lovers. warnings. physical touch. not proofread. a lot of rambling. listen to. a little less sixteen candles, a little more "touch me" by fall out boy.

inside jokes and laughing into each other.

i think this builds off of the clinginess aspect of your friendship, but you and jake have hundreds of inside jokes. that being said, you know the little cute giggle that jake does? whenever you guys hear something related to one of your inside jokes and you catch each other’s eye, both of you will literally go into that do not laugh mode. but as soon as you guys think about it again like three seconds later, you would both giggle at each other from across the table, or from your seats in the car, or if you’re next to each other, you would curl into each other to laugh about whatever it is. of course there’s times where it’s more formal and you’re with new people so you can’t outwardly laugh or giggle, so you’ll just lightly kick each other’s shin or foot, nudge each other with your elbows, or just have a knowing look on your faces that tell each other ‘no, yeah, i know what you’re thinking. we can laugh about it later.’

hyping each other up.

as much as i thought it would’ve made me cringe ngl, seeing jake doing his double pat to his chest and then the macho arms is one of the most endearing things ever. it makes me chuckle whenever i see him do it, and i have no doubt in my mind that as his best frend, you would get that habit of doing it too. maybe yours is more lowkey, but you and him would definitely do it to each other or say ‘let’s gaur~’ whenever something good or exciting happens. you always hype each other up despite being introverts because who cares? my best friend did something amazing so of course i’ll cheer for them. always high fives you, saying “woo! let’s gaur, up top, bub!” no matter how big or small the accomplishment is - whether you aced a test, got a promotion, or just passed a level in a game you insist on playing. sometimes, he’ll attack you in a big ikeu hug because he’s overcome with so much emotion for you. the moment you do the same back for him, he’ll melt.

sleepover routine over the years.

since you were a kid, it wasn’t rare for you and jake to sleepover at each other's house whenever it got too late for you to walk back home. all you had to do was tell your parents where you would be, get changed into the clothes jake let you borrow (you used to bring your own, but ever since you realized how comfy his clothes were, you only started bring an extra change of clothes for going out the next day - not that jake minded; he realized early on that he liked when you wore his clothes), and plop down next to him after brushing your teeth. jake is a clingy sleeper, so you always wake up with him pressed to your back and softly breathing into the nape of your neck, or if it’s too hot, his arm lazily draped over you.

scrolling on your phone in the morning together.

it’s usually you who wakes up first as soon as the sun starts to shine through the gaps between his shutters. it’s your habit to grope around his nightstand for your phone before realizing he had plugged it in for you by his desk. jake always wakes up enough when you gently slip out of his hold, asking if you can bring him his phone too, and when you come back, the two of you just proceed to check through your notifications next to each other in silence. on weekends when you have nothing to do in the morning, he’ll lay his arm out on his bed for you to hand him his phone and for you to rest your neck on. you know how he does the thing where he wraps his arm around jungwon and then uses the phone? it’s gonna be like that but instead, both of you are scrolling, but you just have his arm slightly blocking your view. you’ll always show each other things - when jake wants to show you a tiktok or something on youtube, he’ll gently tug his arm so that you’re semi-forced to look at what he’s showing. when it’s you, you gently tap his arm to get his attention and he turns toward you, doing his little jayla thing as he rests his cheek on your head.

not being afraid to cling to each other.

it’s not a secret that jake is one of the clingiest members in enhypen, and i think that’s something that would transfer to anyone he cares about. here i go again with my jake friendship analyses lol, but as i watched a bunch of heejake and jakewon tiktoks, i saw that jake tends to curl into other members when he’s shy, scared, or honestly whenever he wants to. remember when jake got scared from the i-land ghost and just curled into heeseung? or when niki was telling ghost stories on vlive (and jake curled into heeseung)? or when they were teasing jay about not having graduated yet and jake scooted away from the poor boy (again, towards heeseung)? yeah, that’s the two of you. you’ll cling to each other whenever you’re scared or shy - even if you’re just sitting next to each other. he’ll do the thing he does to jungwon to you where he just presses his face to your shoulder or tucks his chin onto it. you do the same and he honestly gets really giddy when you do it - and sometimes he wonders if that giddiness means something else.

always taking silly photos.

you know that video of jake in milan when they’re at that museum thing, and he points to a statue and says something along the lines of, ‘hey, that dude was the one who originally made this pose’ and is all ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ ᕙ(⇀‸↼‵‵)ᕗ around a bunch of super famous fashion people? like jake gives me the vibes of the best friend you can never take a serious photo with. somehow, the two of you always end up with those really cute best friend photos where you’re play fighting or just laughing at each other or doing silly photos. jay and sunghoon once brought you two to the city to go and take nice model-like photos, but they both got headaches struggling to get you two to pose seriously because you were both too busy chasing after pigeons or stopping and petting every dog you passed. eventually they gave up and let you be, taking photos that you normally would with jake. at the end of the day though, as jay scrolled through his phone to airdrop the photos to the two of you, he found one with the two of you overlooking the view together, your head on jakes shoulder as the both of you leaned on the railing. there was no way jay wouldn’t take credit for that one when you would (finally) realize your feelings for each other.

⌕. author’s note ; hihi! this is probably one of the fastest things i’ve ever whipped up but i woke up today and this was like the first thing i thought of as i rolled in bed to reach for my phone. tbh jake to me is one of the easiest members to write about just because he radiates total childhood best friends to lovers energy and that’s something i never had. it’s easy for me to picture stuff i never had but want for some reason so here i am lol. consider this part 3 of 4 of enha hyung line’s friends to lovers series. sunghoon (hopefully) coming soon!

⌕. taglist ; @soobin-chois @koishua @enhacolor @chrysbibi @acaiasahi

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husbandhoshi · 2 years

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three’s a crowd [m]

pairing: haechan x jeno x f!reader

wc: 3.5k

summary: maybe you can have your cake and eat it too, although your friends certainly don’t make it easy.

notes: established relationship!haechan meets bff!jeno, pwp, college!au, sub!reader, threesome hijinks, slight exhibitionism, unprotected piv sex, oral (f and m receiving), spanking, cumplay, breeding, thigh fucking, slight degradation/dirty talk, embarrassing banter, mentions of alcohol

it’s not one of your finest moments, you think, when your top is off and haechan’s hand is up your skirt, and the door is just open enough to reveal a very stunned jeno.

if only any of you were drunk enough to have this be a distant memory in the morning—unfortunately, you learned too late that your faith in mark’s intuition was sorely misplaced when he showed up with half a handle of seltzers and the remnants of what looked like a world war 2 era vodka bottle.

worse, all it took was one sad blackberry white claw (that you split with haechan), a handful of risky texts, and mark passing out on the couch after one and a half shots to find yourself in the unfortunate position of being half-naked in your best friend’s bedroom.

“oh my god, jeno—,” you hiss urgently, but his deer in the headlights gaze does not waver.

your back is pressed against haechan’s chest and your legs tucked behind his to keep them spread—even if you wanted to shoo jeno away and shut the door you couldn’t.

“tell me if you want me to stop,” haechan whispers. he nips at your earlobe between words. “this ok with you?”

you feel jeno’s eyes burning holes into you (or your panties), and for some reason your brain has been astoundingly silent when it comes to even thinking about telling him to go.

jeno stands there, broad chest rising with another shaky breath, all flushed with his pupils blown out, and you’re coming to terms with the fact that, yes, there is something inexplicably hot about watching your best friend watch you get off.

you nod (perhaps a little too enthusiastically), and that’s all haechan needs to proceed.

a threesome is something you’ve all talked about before, and although you’d have preferred it to be much different (perhaps not on the goddamn ground, for starters), something about the impromptu nature of it all has your blood running hotter than normal.

haechan continues working you over, movements deliberate—he wants jeno to watch. his fingertips brush over the thin panel of fabric covering your cunt, dragging just enough to make you dizzy, as he kisses the side of your neck.

you’re not sure whether it’s the graze of haechan’s teeth over your pulse or the way you cannot seem to break eye contact with jeno, but your mind is everywhere and nowhere at once.

your resolve finally breaks when he pushes your panties aside (soaked) to lazily press on your clit.

“ah, shit,” you breathe, unable to stop your thighs from shaking and hips from bucking up into his hand.

another helpless moan, and jeno drops his empty seltzer can, something you would laugh at if you weren’t fighting the pathetic urge to cum just from some heavy petting.

“fuck,” he groans. it comes from his chest, a gravelly, deep sound, and even hearing it makes your toes curl.

“you just gonna stand there and watch?” haechan looks up from the littering of marks on your shoulder to meet jeno’s eyes. “look, i’d ask you out to dinner first before we all fuck, but i figure you’re more of a dessert guy?”

you fight the need to throttle your boyfriend for his inability to read the room, but he doesn’t stop playing with your clit, something he is regrettably very good at.

“yeah. fuck.” jeno’s sweatpants drop so fast they might as well be made of lead. you can see the outline of his dick through his briefs, and you wonder how big it is, how it would feel in your guts.

complicating things, haechan is now shallowly pumping a few fingers in you, taking care to press the heel of his palm into your swollen clit.

“haechan, fuck,” you moan, grinding into his hand. “i’m gonna cum—”

then he stops.

“aww, so fast. baby can’t handle the thought of being fucked in both holes, huh? getting all tight around me just thinking about it?”

haechan pulls his fingers out to slap your cunt, really just a few mean pats, but you’re so wound up, your whole body locks up and a pitiful whimper is ripped from your throat. he’s right, the only thing you want is to be split open right now, and the fake pity in his voice is doing crazy things to the building ache in your pussy.

“jeno,” haechan starts. “do you wanna taste?” he nips at your earlobe. “how’s that sound, baby? you want him to make you cum?”

“y-yes,” you plead. jeno stands there and blinks at you. “yes, now please hurry the fuck up.”

you think you can actually physically feel your life force dwindle away every three seconds it takes for jeno to undo a button on his mile-long button up shirt.

it’s some combination of the sheer desperation in your voice and the sight of your cunt, all slick and puffy from your arousal, that breaks jeno. (or maybe it’s the way haechan laughs, clearly enjoying watching two embarrassingly horny people try to get anything done.)

“fuck it.” jeno pulls his still half-buttoned shirt over his head and gets on his knees. oh my god, lee jeno is on his knees, but you barely have time to process anything else before things roll into motion.

haechan grabs your thighs and holds them spread, blunt nails digging into your soft skin. you feel the cold air on your cunt, the wetness dripping onto the ground. you’re shaking with anticipation and right now there is nothing more you want than for jeno to eat you out.

the first touch of his tongue to your pussy sends your back arching so hard you almost pull a muscle, and you cry out.

“fucking dirty, huh? you like watching yourself getting eaten out by your best friend?” haechan asks in a low voice, moving his hands up from your legs to play with your tits, giving them a hard squeeze.

“m-mmhm—” you can’t move; you’re caged between these two bodies, and all you can do is take the pleasure as it comes to you like a speeding train.

you’re a moaning mess, your hands tangled in jeno’s hair as he licks your cunt dry. you’re bucking into his face, but he grabs you by the hips and pulls you closer to him. he’s so eager, you can’t decide if he’s just experienced or if doing this to you has ever crossed his mind, but both possibilities make you a little dizzy.

as if he’s read your mind, haechan starts, “she’s so mean, huh, jeno?” jeno kisses your clit at about the same time haechan bites your collarbone, and you twitch pathetically in haechan’s firm embrace. “my baby’s getting all worked up from seeing you on your knees, knowing you can’t have her?”

jeno nods fervently but never once unseals his mouth from your cunt, and you just might positively cry.

you feel his tongue first in your slit, lapping shallowly at your walls, and his nose bumps your clit; the dual stimulation makes you teary-eyed with pleasure. then, he moves to suck the bud, and a finger prods at your entrance before pushing in. he’s shy, but the literal intensity he’s eating you out with is giving you a near out of body experience.

“fuck, jeno, you’re so—fuck,” you groan, head lolled to the side as he finger fucks you. “take notes, haechan,” you heave in between breaths, and, knowing you, he scoffs in reply (rightly so. it’s almost terrifying how he seems to know your pussy better than you.) and rolls your nipples between his fingers. it’s such a small thing, but you swear the sensation goes straight down to your core.

“more, more,” you beg, hurtling towards a second orgasm.

“she has the audacity to ask after saying that?” you can easily visualize your boyfriend rolling his eyes, but you choose to focus on the telltale smile he presses to your cheek instead.

anyhow, you’re lucky jeno’s nicer than haechan—he immediately complies, adding a second digit. his fingers feel so thick in you, and you savor every moment of it. the pads of his fingers drag against your walls as they curl nicely, adding to the building pressure in your stomach.

it doesn’t help how he moans every time you jerk into him, and you truly feel powerless in the best way possible.

haechan watches intently, and you can tell he’s enjoying the show even if he’s not participating much in it. his cock is rock hard, pressed up against your back, and it’s driving you crazy how you want to fuck both men so bad.

“jeno, i’m—” he knows even before you get the words out, and he pumps two fingers in you, tongue flicking your bud. and you cum, hips arching and voice almost raw from moaning.

he sits up to kiss you, more tenderly than you’ve ever imagined, and you melt in it.

it’s no secret that you had the biggest crush on him when you were kids, back when you were neighbors. he was the boy next door of every girl’s dreams, and it certainly didn’t help how he, as loyal as ever, spent nearly every second of every summer by your side.

of course, as times changed and feelings faded, you both quickly realized things worked much better as friends (to both your mothers’ dismay). somehow, jeno predicted you and haechan falling in love before either of you ever saw it coming.

(you remember it clearly. no one ever argues that much! he had said in his characteristically level voice, although his sheer conviction admittedly terrified you. and in true best friend fashion, when he eventually was proven very right, he made you buy him a milkshake.)

now, as you savor the almost ethereal sight of jeno wiping your cum off his chin, you now know sometimes you can have your cake and eat it too.

“got more left in you?” haechan asks nicely, but you know it’s more of a command. “hope you’re ready to take two cocks at once.”

you’re still catching your breath, but it seems your body has already decided, as you nod quickly. “only one way to find out,” you croak. “but can we please do it on the bed?” haechan laughs at your insistence, but it’s the warm, melty, the in love kind of laugh.

“spoiled, are we?” is his reply, but both men help you up onto the bed. and it’s a goddamn blessing no one is thinking straight enough to notice that you’re about to get railed on the sheets your childhood crush sleeps on.

your cheeks are colored with both humiliation and anticipation as you settle on all fours—you’re really letting your cunt take charge, but who can blame you?

it seems haechan is being generous today, and he positions his cock between your lips and lets jeno kneel behind you.

“ready?” he asks you quietly, tipping your chin up with an index finger. it’s almost intimate, tender, save for the fact you are about to be fucked in two holes.

instead of answering, you lean forward and take his cock in your mouth, at first shallowly to tease him a little. the weight is warm and familiar on your tongue, and you suck hard around his weeping cockhead.

“shit, fuck,” haechan groans, carding a hand through his hair.

jeno doesn’t miss a beat. he slides his cock in between your pussy lips a few times for prep before you feel him push in first slowly, then all at once.

your eyes roll back into your head. fuck, you knew jeno was big—but not that big.

you moan around haechan’s dick, and he pushes right back into your throat, causing you to gag.

“aw, shit, sorry,” haechan says, tucking your hair behind your ears and moving his hands to cradle your cheeks. “jeno, what are you waiting for? don’t you know how to treat a lady?”

“actually,” jeno starts. he’s trying to sound casual, but you hear the grit of his teeth as you pulse around him. “i was going to ask you the same thing. how is she so fucking tight if you guys fuck all the time?”

he rocks out and then in again, still shallowly as you adjust to his girth. you swear you can feel every goddamn vein on his dick with how he’s splitting you open.

you don’t want to stop sucking haechan off, but you are seriously wrecked—something about jeno’s voice is dark, dangerous, and you really want to cum again.

“jeno, please,” you finally say, trying not to sound too desperate.

and so he fucks into you properly, hips slamming into your ass and hands digging into your sides, enough to bruise. those damn soccer players, you briefly think, but he makes sure even that thought is fucked out of you.

the momentum has you mouth fucking haechan, who has his eyes wrenched shut in pleasure. you can’t take your eyes off him—he’s so pretty, moaning loud as you suck him off hard.

“he’s ruining my view,” jeno tells you, jerking a thumb at haechan.

“fuck you,” he replies. “never inviting you to a threesome again.”

and you would deeply resent the fact that it’s not just haechan who can’t read the room if you weren’t grateful you still had the wherewithal to laugh for a brief moment before you keen in pleasure again.

it seems like jeno’s close, with the way he’s fucking you more erratically. your throat squeezes around haechan as you struggle to keep a lid on your moans; every time you take him down that far, you feel the glorious feeling of his hands wrenching up in your your hair, hear the voice you love so much.

jeno’s quick and dirty—when you feel his dick twitch in you as he gets closer, he reaches between your thighs and presses your clit ever so softly.

“oh fuck, jeno, fuck, fuck,” you cry out as haechan’s dick slides out of your mouth with a slick pop. he sits back on his feet and lazily strokes himself, content with watching you get railed hard.

“close?” jeno asks, applying more pressure to your clit. he slows his pace, instead deciding to fuck you deep and hard.

you hang your head, thighs shaking and voice quivering. “so close, jeno— please—” blinking through teary eyes, you watch haechan’s hand twist over his cock so expertly, and you revel how he also takes pleasure in how utterly fucked out jeno’s cock has made you.

with another careful touch to your clit, jeno sends you over again, dick hard against your walls and moving so slowly you can feel every inch of it. you cum so hard, he groans when you clench around him, and he cums like this too and fucks you through both your orgasms.

“h-haechan, it’s so much,” you moan, gripping at the sheets with white knuckles.

“yeah? jeno, fill her up,” haechan orders, and god, it’s so good, so warm and wet and sloppy in your spent pussy.

you’re shaking, and you can feel jeno’s cum leaking out of your hole as his dick slides out. “haechan...” you manage. ��you didn’t cum.”

you look up, only to see him smiling. “oh, you didn’t think we were done yet, did you?”

you swallow hard.

“watch and learn, jeno.” haechan positions himself behind you.

jeno, already satisfied and basking in the warmth of his orgasm, is content with laying back against the headrest and watching (how does he still look like a greek god?).

first haechan grabs a fistful of your hair, then pushes you into the sheets. you can’t help but whimper a bit. he’s been rough before—but something tells you he wants to put on a real show.

and then you feel his other hand come down hard on your ass.

“fuck,” you moan into the pillow. you’ve cummed twice now, but your hole clenches in anticipation. you feel more cum leak out of your hole and onto the bed. there’s more on the apex of your thighs, warm and milky and sticky.

“jeno, you seeing this?” haechan asks, horribly confident grin plastered on his face.

“fuck—” jeno’s hand finds his cock again, and he starts playing with himself.

he slaps your ass again, and you keen into the sheets. then his hand rubs over your skin, hot and smarting, and it takes everything you have not to lean up into his touch.

haechan slides his dick between your lips, coating it with cum. “you wanna get filled up, huh? walk home with cum down your legs?”

“p-please...need you to cum in me.” you’re humiliated, this is absolutely mortifying. the words just fall out of your mouth without a second thought, but part of you loves it, and you know your boyfriend does too. and jeno is staring so hard, you’re surprised no one’s told him to take a picture so it lasts longer.

with your head in the sheets and your hole literally dripping, he fucks you. hard. harder than jeno, who seemed to retain a bit of romance and apprehension.

you cry out, muffled by the pillow.

“he said i don’t fuck you hard enough,” haechan says to you, jaw clenched. “what do you think?”

you can’t even form a complete sentence, and you just whine into the pillow. your voice comes out in bursts, like he’s knocking the sound out of you.

haechan would never let you forget how good he is with his hips, and with every time he draws back and fucks into you, you swear you’ve never felt anything better.

“fuck, you’re still so tight,” he swears. “bet you like this, huh, slut? just a fucking cocksleeve for us?”

“mm—mhm—”

then he pulls you up by your hair, and your back arches up, causing his dick to angle so good against your walls, hitting your g-spot just right.

“fuck—yes, yes,” you gasp. “please please please please—”

“what’re you asking for, honey?” haechan asks, cruelly pulling out to fuck his cockhead between your thighs, all sloppy with cum. “what do you think she wants, jeno?”

you glance over and see jeno stroking himself off, eyes transfixed on you. and unlike anything you had ever thought possible, he leans forward to clasp your jaw in his big hand. the added weight alone parts your lips slightly, and all you can do is gaze back at him with your glazed over eyes as you feel haechan’s rock hard cock fuck itself between your legs.

“use your words,” he tells you, thumb pressing right on your tongue so you can feel him. and you pray, pray, no one ever talks about this day again because you whine so loud, you think you might as well have woken mark up from his coma on the couch.

“f-fill me up,” you babble. “need your cock, channie.” and the second jeno takes his palm out from under your chin, you buckle back into the sheets with the impact of haechan bottoming out into you.

“fuck, you’re already knocked up with jeno’s cum. can you take another load? huh?”

“y-yes, yes.” you close your eyes tightly, bracing for another orgasm. his dick is swallowed by your fluttering walls, all you feel is tight, warm, and messy for him.

“so fucking good for me, huh? pussy’s gonna look so pretty all plugged up, fuck.”

you take a hazy glance to your side and see jeno’s hips canting up into his fist. you think about how his dick is covered in you and it sends sparks to your cunt.

you can tell haechan is close too, as his rhythm falls apart and he just fucks you deep and hard.

“kiss me,” you breathe, propping yourself up on your forearms to look back at haechan. through the waves of pleasure rocking through your body, you can even admire him now, his broad chest and the way he looks at you with such devotion.

and when he leans towards you, desperate and eager with love, to seal your lips in a kiss that makes you dizzy, it offers jeno a glimpse of what your relationship is really like. haechan moans into your mouth, submitting easily to your touch, and you can hear jeno’s cry when he cums on his chest (the damn hopeless romantic).

but you’re no better, and as haechan catches your bottom lip between his teeth, you both hit your high, and you feel his cum shoot up into your hole. it’s so warm and wet feeling, and you wonder if it’ll feel like that for days.

you collapse onto your stomach. walking seems like a distant dream, and your entire lower body feels like wet jello. but it doesn’t matter, because haechan plants a kiss on the top of your head and all feels right in the world.

“where are you going?” you croak as you feel jeno’s weight leave the bed.

“i’m getting you a wet towel. you guys can stay here and keep being all gross or whatever.” jeno slips his briefs on and opens the bedroom door. “you’re welcome, by the way.”

“still uninvited from the next threesome,” haechan calls after him, laughing when jeno merely flips him off in reply.

you’re drifting in and out of what just might be the fattest nap of your life when you hear mark holler from downstairs.

“shit man, where’d your clothes go?!”

jeno doesn’t respond.

“what the fuck did i miss!”

you and haechan can only laugh.

#ITS DONE!!!!!#also i’m sorry for my crimes against … well. everything!#it was hard writing the relationship dynamic but idk #also sorry to my carat only followers Lmao #nct smut #nct dream smut #haechan smut #donghyuck smut #jeno smut #haechan x reader #jeno x reader #nct #mine #haechan #jeno

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devilsrecreation · 29 days

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My Kiburi relationship headcanons are so important to me, man

We have this grumpy crocodile who acts like he doesn’t care about anything but put him near his loved ones and he goes soft (even though he may not act like it)

Tamka, Nduli, and Neema have stuck by him through thick and thin and he sees them as his family, especially Nduli who’s like a little brother to him. Like they are his entire world

He also becomes BFF’s with Janja and now they’re practically inseparable with their snark and confidence

I’ve mentioned he sees Kenge as part of the float and they’re super tight

Njano may be kinda annoying to him but he still has his back

He listens to and respects Pua to no end cuz Pua’s essentially his second dad

And because I’m counting oc’s:

Wakali’s his pride and joy and if anybody even looks at her the wrong way, he’ll kill them

He may bicker with Ucheshi but there is no denying he still loves and cares about his baby sister to the ends of the Earth. And it’s the same vice versa, they have that really strong and special bond that screams “If you wanna hurt my sibling, you’re gonna have to go through me first”

#i love making relationship headcanons #they’re so fun #kiburi’s my fav to play around with #he means so much to me #and they all help him become a better crocodile and i am here for it #tlg outlanders #the lion guard

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shybunnie20 · 1 year

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Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader x Bff!Robin Buckley

★My Masterlist

Summary: Your relationship with Eddie isn't what it used to be. Things take a turn for the worse and he faces the fragility of life when you're left at death's doorstep.

Author's Note: This is the longest one shot I've written so far. I worked on this for two months, so please let me know if you enjoy it! Be sure to reblog, follow, and show some love ♡

Author's Note Cont.: Established relationship. AU with no Upside Down. No use of Y/N. Predominantly angst but has fluffy moments. Bittersweet ending! PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS

Word count: 6.6k

Warnings: Descriptions of physical trauma (of the reader). Heartache, arguing, Eddie being a crybaby, includes swearing.

tags: @protecteddiemunson4vr

Initially, you were on the fence about moving in with Eddie, it was his childhood home after all. You were worried about imposing and it’s nerve-wracking to officially combine your life with someone else’s.

Wayne assured you that he was happy to leave the trailer to the two of you so that you and Eddie could pursue your lives together. You were considered a part of his family and he knew you’d take good care of his nephew; he expected Eddie to look after you just the same.

Once you had agreed to make the transition, Eddie had to learn to accommodate your needs in the confined space he’d previously shared with his uncle.

You folded your arms and took in the cluttered bedroom. “Can we please take some of these posters down?”

Eddie feigned annoyance with a throaty groan, but beneath it, he was eager to appease you. “Fine, but the Corroded Coffin banner stays up.” With a devilish smile, he pulled you into his embrace.

The unnecessarily secure hug caused a strained giggle to escape you. “Eddieee! That’s too tight!”

He chuckled amusedly and loosened his grip. After nestling his nose into your hair, he hummed with contentment. “This is your castle now, princess.” He pressed a kiss to the crown of your head and sighed. “Someday I’m gonna get you a big house with a yard and I’m gonna do whatever it takes to make it happen.”

You smiled and buried your face into his neck. “My home is wherever you are. If we grow old together in this tin can then so be it.”

That was well over a year ago and things are far from how they were. The air, once saccharine, has a sour aftertaste that has failed to melt away as you’d hoped.

Eddie is making every effort to juggle his responsibilities. He plays twice a week at The Hideout with his band, which means frequent late-night practice sessions. Despite being a Hawkins High alumnus, he remains the Hellfire Club Dungeon Master. In addition, he works extended shifts at the auto shop. More often than not, they need all hands on deck, being that it’s the only one in town.

Due to his demanding schedule, you don’t see him much anymore. There’s always something that he has to tend to. By telling yourself that his absence isn’t personal, you’re unknowingly making excuses for your boyfriend’s inability to make time for you.

Each day, Eddie wakes up at the crack of dawn to get ready for work. If you’re lucky, he’ll place a brief kiss on your forehead while you’re tucked under the shabby blankets; not even awake to savor the gesture of waning affection. Most nights, you’re exactly where he saw you last. Fast asleep and worn out from your own job and keeping the mobile home tidy.

The lack of physical intimacy has Eddie feeling rather unsatisfied. On a few occasions, he slipped into bed beside you and his hands searched your body in the dark. It was low to be copping a feel but his self-restraint had been whittled down from exhaustion. You’d pushed his hand away and mumbled in semi-cognizant disinterest. Left rejected and frustrated, Eddie’s hurt feelings have brought on a distant shift in his demeanor. His internal thunder matches the rumble of your own.

At this rate, you’re merely coexisting with one another. Hardly so, given that he’s rarely home. You’ve been nothing but patient and supportive of his copious passions. Truly, you’re glad that Eddie has these things in his life that make him feel fulfilled, you just wish that you were still one of them.

There’s a good chance that communicating will resolve the strain, but you can’t bring yourself to speak up. It’s pathetic to beg for his undivided attention. Thinking that you could tough it out, you’ve broken your own heart by waiting for him to realize how lonesome you’ve been.

Instead of counting sheep, you lay and wonder if it's fate that the two of you have grown apart. Regardless of kismet interpretations, it’s debilitating to continue a masquerade of pretending that this isn’t torturous. You’ve killed a part of yourself to keep this love afloat with no lifeboats in sight.

This relationship is more than its worst moments but you’ve exhausted the idea that this is simply a rough patch. A day where anything changes for the better remains a pipe dream.

You’ve bid farewell to the little moments that once meant so much. Light years ago, Eddie couldn’t bear to have you out of his arms for more than a few minutes. He'd wrap his arms around your waist and whisper sweet nothings in your ear while you washed dishes at the kitchen sink. He would pull you closer by the belt loops of your jeans to kiss you with fervor after just a few short hours apart. At the time, hours felt like an eternity.

It stings, feeling that you’re not missed. Or at least not missed enough for him to make an effort to be home more. You’ve stopped looking for reasons to stay because he hasn’t given you any. But for the sake of it, you give him one last chance.

Eddie pinky promised he’d be home for dinner tonight. With renewed optimism, you whip up his favorite comfort foods. It feels odd to be cooking after countless weeks of takeout leftovers. You’ve gotten so used to gnawing on cold pizza that eating has lost its significance.

After swiping on a little makeup, you slip into an outfit that’s a step up from your usual sweatpants and t-shirt. The uneasy feeling in your gut bears a striking similarity to how you felt the night of your first date with Eddie. The inexplicable desire to impress him is undeniable. Maybe if you look pretty enough, he’ll remember that you still exist. Ultimately, how the evening goes will determine where you belong. Whether it be in his life or elsewhere. You’re sincerely coveting the former.

Eddie swore on being home by six sharp. Even so, the steam rising off of the hand-cooked meal dissipates as it grows cold. You take a final glance at your watch and concede defeat at the forty-five-minute mark of his tardiness. As much as you hate to admit it, you should’ve known better than to trust that he’d show.

Time has always had a way of throwing it all in your face, but it never fails to wreck you. Just like the days that led to this one, the sun came up and went down. You can’t discern whether it’s what Eddie did or didn’t do. If it was the lack of effort or the intentional cold shoulder. At the end of the day, all of the love is still there but it serves no purpose now.

The chair creaks as you get to your feet. You step into the kitchen and refill your drinking glass at the sink, promptly gulping down the milk-tinted water as a placeholder for the meal you didn’t have. Your skull acts as a cauldron for the boiling hurt and it bubbles to a feverish froth. Before you can stop yourself, you chuck the glass down onto the worn linoleum and jagged shards scatter across the floor. Along with it, you fall to pieces. Your back slams against the cupboard as you slide down until your tailbone meets the floor.

At fifteen minutes to ten, the trailer door slams closed with a thud. Eddie toes off his grimy work boots and notices the romantic setting for two, the plates entirely untouched. It’s immediately evident to him that you went out of your way to put together a special evening that is well past expired.

Eddie’s gaze then finds the broken glass. He inhales sharply and concern coats his lungs. He heads down the hall toward the light emitting from the bedroom and calls out. “My bad for being late, I was-” Eddie reaches the doorway and his sentence drops off when he sees you haphazardly shoving clothes into a duffel bag. “What’re you doing?” He asks, his voice sewn tightly with puzzlement.

Mutely tugging open the top drawer of the dresser, you grab a fistful of socks and underwear and tuck it into the bag. Eddie used to be able to finish your sentences, but tonight you’ll be finishing his. You’re already anticipating the bullshit justifications that you’ve heard time and time again.

Eddie becomes frustrated with being blatantly ignored. When you shift to step past him, he blocks the doorway by extending his arm. “I’m talking to you. Where are you going?”

“Honestly, I don’t know.” You look into his hardened eyes, your own marbled with inflamed crimson veins. “But there’s no way I’m staying here.”

There’s a throbbing in his ribcage at the sight of how visibly saddened you are. Finally being confronted with the consequences of his actions, Eddie swallows hard. “You can’t be serious.”

“Does it look like I’m joking?” Your icy stare falters with the release of a shaky exhale. “I'm done waiting around for you.” Eddie’s expression only adds insult to injury, the fucking nerve of him to play dumb right now.

He throws his head back and scoffs, “Give me a break, I didn’t mean to be late! I was the only one closing tonight.”

Unconvinced, you mutter, “Uh huh,” while ducking beneath his blockading limb.

Eddie scoffs louder this time. “Okay, I see how it is. You think I’m lying.”

You don’t care if he’s telling the truth or not. Even with all of the space that’s amassed between the two of you, there’s no room for honesty. Eddie continues to prod while you rummage through the bathroom drawers gathering necessities.

The beat of your heart thumps wildly in your ears. All the while, your bones have caught a fever, and the fire in your chest spreads, charring your throat as the flames continue to climb. The blistering smoke irritates the backs of your eyes, causing tears to reform and your nose to run.

Eddie makes a sound of artificial amusement and it reverberates off of the shallow walls as he follows you to the living room. “Convincing performance, babe. You’re really sellin’ it, but you can put the bag down now, alright? I get it. I learned my lesson.”

While putting on your shoes you swallow a whimper. Your backbone is coming apart at the seams, but you refuse to express how distraught you truly are.

Folding his arms across his chest, Eddie continues. “Are you seriously making this big of a deal over one missed dinner?”

You stand and take a step toward him, accusingly pressing your pointer finger to his chest. Applying enough pressure that your nail leaves an indentation. “If you think this is because of one dinner, you’re fucking delusional.”

The hinges on the front door squeal as you push it open and walk outside. For far too long all you’d wanted was him, but now being in the same room is unbearable.

Eddie treads on your heels, descending the concrete steps out into the ill-lit trailer park. “Can you not be so overdramatic for once in your life? This is ridiculous. C’mon, let’s just go back inside and talk it out.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” You growl while jamming the keys into the door of your car and tossing the duffel bag onto the passenger seat. It’s not improbable that if he begged you right now, you’d give in. Part of you is relieved that he isn’t on his knees because you’d never be able to walk away otherwise. Without sparing another glance in his direction, you reverse and steer out of the trailer park.

Cemented in place, Eddie’s socked feet press into the rocky gravel. The lights from the neighboring mobile homes flare like lasers as tears deluge his vision. The utter disbelief that you’re leaving him causes a surge of nausea to churn in his abdomen. What the hell just happened?

As luck would have it, Robin answers when you ring her doorbell. “Hey! Oh- you look like shit.”

Your shoulders slump with the bow of your head, feeling just as shitty as you look. “Yeah, thanks.”

“Errr, sorry. Come on in.” Robin insists, stepping aside for you to enter her home.

The two of you plop down on her living room couch and share a short-lived silence before unpacking the evening’s sequence of events. To the best of her ability, Robin digests your nonsensical blubbering about how you didn’t want to ask Eddie to give up the things he loved.

Half a box of tissues later, you’ve calmed some. “I feel like such a fucking idiot.” You sniffle and fiddle with a loose thread on your sleeve. “Y’know, I can’t even remember the last time we showered together. He treats me like a roommate. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if he isn’t in love with me anymore.”

Robin frowns. “I don’t blame you. I’m sorry that you’re going through this.” She takes your hand in hers and squeezes it reassuringly.

Shortly after you’d left Forest Hills, Eddie did the same. He figured taking a joy ride down the streets of Hawkins could help clear his conscience. With heavy metal crackling from the stereo, he drives down the sparsely illuminated avenues. In an attempt to escape from his bleeding reality, he focuses on the beat of the music; tapping the steering wheel with his sterling silver-adorned digits.

This is the worst fight you and Eddie have ever had. Sure, there have been trivial arguments over him leaving water on the bathroom floor after taking a shower. Not to mention, Eddie was particularly explosive about you misplacing his belongings while cleaning the trailer. However, it has never gotten heated to the extent that either of you stormed off.

As much as you appreciate Robin’s hospitality, you feel that you’ve overstayed your welcome. Especially since she has to work in the morning. On your way out, you hug her firmly to convey your gratitude. “Thanks for being such a good friend, Robin. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Robin rests her arms on the car door as you settle behind the wheel. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”

With a nod, you force a grin as a semblance of emotional stability. “I’m a big girl, I’ll be alright.”

“Yeah, but still. At least let me know when you get to the motel.” With a sympathetic expression, Robin pushes the door closed and watches as you back out of the driveway.

Truthfully you would rather stay at Robin’s place than at a crusty motel, but you can’t bring yourself to burden her with your hardships. The radio hisses with a channel teasing to stick. A faint melody fades in and out of the static as you concentratedly twist the tuning dial to find the sweet spot. While preoccupied, you fail to notice that you’re driving through a four-way intersection.

Glass rains down like hail when the driver’s side door is struck. The echo of skidding tires halts as your vehicle comes to a complete stop, the passenger side crushed inward by the thick trunk of a tree. The other driver stumbles out into the street, disorientated by whiplash. They frantically shout for help and flag down a car that pulls up to the intersection.

It’s not long before the accident is encircled by emergency responders. Dismal gray columns of smoke lift into the air as the engine’s inferno heats the mangled steel frame that cages your scathed body.

Meanwhile, Eddie ventures to decompress at the private spot he used to frequent with his trusty lighter and a single lazily rolled joint. As he turns the corner of Highland and Chestnut, he’s taken aback by the twirling red and blue streams of light.

The firemen work skillfully to free you from the burning structure. Secured by your seatbelt, you’re slumped forward in your seat; your chin digging into your clavicle. The blaze roaring just inches away caresses you, leaving fiery kisses across your skin. Even so, the warmth gradually drains from your complexion as you begin to sink into the earth to lie forever. Death coaxes you with its enticingly bitter embrace and you're lured beyond control.

Eddie’s van slows as he drives past the scene. The catastrophic sight is unsettling but he can’t take his eyes off of the sparks from the jaws of life that cut the driver’s side door from the frame. It’s far too dark to make out what models of cars are involved.

By the looks of it, there’s a slim chance that whoever is being pulled from the vehicle will survive. There’s a morbid sense of comfort in knowing that he’s not the only one having an awful night. More than anything, he’s glad it’s not him who got into an accident.

Lakeside with the doors wide open, Eddie lies in the back of his van. He drags an ample hit from the joint, striving to cloud away the image of the ecstatic look you gave him when he’d assured you that he would be home on time. Eddie hasn’t seen you that excited in longer than he can remember. He wonders how this evening would’ve gone if he’d kept his word.

The argument replays, and it’s the frailty in your voice that’s penetrating deep into his memory. Eddie convinces himself that it was just a bad fight because that’s what couples do. You’ll come back in a day or so, you’ll hug and make up, and your lives will go back to normal.

Except that‘s exactly what got him into this situation. Things cannot go back to how they were, he has to do better. You deserve to be prioritized and he realizes that now.

Rattling fills the ambulance as it speeds over fragmented pavement caused by the most recent blackberry winter. Strapped on the gurney, you lie motionless. Catatonic, in essence, you're wading in and out of consciousness. Even though your eyes are practically swollen shut, you can see. Though, it’s like looking out of a frosted window. A pearlescent film alters the clarity and runs red due to the blood trickling down from the gash in your eyebrow.

The gurney wheels wobble as you’re rushed down the corridors of the hospital, lungs struggling for air as the bag valve mask offers little assistance to your labored breathing. Under the knife, the surgeons struggle to contain the internal bleeding and operate tirelessly to keep you alive.

After smoking himself as numb as physically possible, Eddie glances at his watch which indicates that it’s half past midnight. He zones out during the drive home and focuses on the painted white dashes that repeatedly disappear under his van. Once he stumbles back into the trailer, it feels exceptionally vacant and the silence is deafening.

Be that as it may, he’s bone-weary from the weed and the strenuous shift at work. Ultimately, he decides he’ll go to bed and deal with his emotions tomorrow. It’s probably for the best since he tends to make poor choices when he’s overtired.

Eddie shucks off the layers of denim and leaves them in a jumbled pile on the floor. His high has broken sooner than he preferred, which makes it difficult to doze off. For a while he tosses and turns on his side of the bed, respecting that the other side still belongs to you.

He listens to the sounds that he’d forgotten about. The crickets outside the window chirping like an off-tempo symphony, the buzzing of the outdated refrigerator in the kitchen, and dogs barking off in the distance. All of the sounds blend to create a foreign cradlesong, lulling him into the twilight of his mind. Your steady breathing is the lullaby he longs for. Shortly after his restless adjusting, exhaustion overtakes him.

Post-operation, the humming machine beside you controls respiration as you lie in the hospital bed. The cocktail of painkillers in your system has buried you into the bottomless oblivion of unconsciousness. Cessation of internal bleeding is a miracle in itself, but being put in a medically induced coma isn’t exactly a triumph.

Due to having broken ribs, the expansion of your chest is feeble. In order to ensure that you remain stable, the medical staff keeps a close eye.

The sun has long since climbed the horizon. Eddie sleeps well past noon due to his body taking the time it required to achieve a relatively homeostatic state. Last night, he was supposed to have an intimate dinner, make love to you, and wake up with you wrapped in his arms. Instead, he was tormented by the fact that not only failed you but his uncle as well. He was raised better than to take your love for granted.

Eddie finds his hands searching for the comfort of your warmth, only to be met with chilled bedsheets. Given that you didn’t come home, he’s quick to remember the unsteadiness he saw in your eyes. Eddie caught a glimpse of the exposed nerve that was worn down to the point of you giving up on him, and he hates himself for it.

He feels vexed that you didn’t express how you’d been feeling. Regardless, he should’ve known damn well that he was running the risk of losing you. Eddie has to figure out where you wound up and think of a way to make things right. One thing is for sure, Eddie refuses to go a single day without you.

After getting out of bed, he pulls on a questionably clean outfit plucked from a heap on the floor. Hell, it passes the sniff test. Correctly assuming that you went to Robin’s after the fight, Eddie snags his keys off of the kitchen counter and sets out to locate you.

When he arrives at Robin’s place, he’s met with an empty driveway. A tinge of worry casts a shadow but Eddie fights off the pessimistic thoughts that pelt him like an air raid. Without stopping, he drives to Family Video. Eddie suspects that Robin is at work if her car isn’t at home, but that leaves your car unaccounted for.

Distracted by the cyclone of desperation stirring powerfully within him, Eddie nearly trips when he hops out of his van. He strides through the double doors and leans his forearms against the front counter.

Robin appears from the back room having been beckoned by the door chime. She stops in her tracks and a bewildered expression forms on her freckled face.

“What’s that look for?” Eddie asks regarding her strong reaction to his presence.

“Uh- nothing.” She resumes her path to the counter and sits in front of the computer. Her fingers clack away on the keyboard to log returns into the system.

Eddie rubs the back of his neck and shifts his focus to a scuff on the surface of the countertop. “I think it’s safe to assume you’re already aware of what went down.” He pauses to take a deep breath. “She stayed with you last night, right?” If Eddie knows anything about you, it's how much you confide in your best friend. It’s a fair assumption, given that’s precisely where you went.

“No, she didn’t,” Robin says snappily, baffled by how inappropriately relaxed he’s acting right now. What is he even doing here?

Eddie’s brows furrow and he raises his head to look at her. “What do you mean no? Where’d she go then?”

Robin stops typing to look at him. “Wh- Do you not know?” When she learned of your incapacitation, she thought that surely Eddie had already found out.

His posture goes rigid as he straightens from his leaning position. That’s not a sentence that ever leads to promising news.

Swiveling on the stool, Robin cocks her head in disbelief at the lost look on Eddie’s face. “She’s in the ICU.”

Blood rushes to Eddie's head and his ears begin to ring like a pipe bomb just went off in the video store. “What? Where’d you get that idea?”

“I guess she had me listed as her emergency contact, I got the call this morning.”

Eddie shouts vehemently, “And you didn’t think to tell me that?!”

Robin raises her hands defensively. “I thought you knew!”

Already having spun around, Eddie dashes through the doors and hops back into his van. Going twenty miles per hour over the legal limit, he speeds down the drabby roads of Hawkins. Luckily he finds an open parking spot in the crowded lot of the hospital.

Following the wall directory that indicates where the intensive care unit is located, Eddie runs faster than he thought he was capable of. He conquers the lengthy stairwells thanks to the adrenaline pumping through his veins. His eyes scan his surroundings while he blindly navigates the polished hallways.

Eddie fails to heed the “medical personnel only” sign and barges into the unit. A voice calls out for security and addresses his intrusion. “Young man, you can’t go in there!”

Frantically inspecting the area, he spots your name listed on a board. The sharp pang in his side from being out of shape isn’t phasing him in the slightest. When Eddie passes the threshold to the room you’re in, his heart is gouged from his chest; ripped clean from the cavity at the sight before him.

Wrapped in bloodied gauze, your complexion is hellishly bruised with raisin and rust-colored burns. The array of discolored hues makes you look like a well-loved doll that’s been drawn on with a permanent marker.

All Eddie can muster is an exasperated “Oh, sweetheart...” with a wobbly lower lip as tears well in his eyes. He reaches for your hand, but just as his fingertips are about to graze yours, he’s yanked backward by a security guard.

“Get your fucking hands off me!” Eddie wails. "Let me go!” His composure disintegrates as he tries to free himself from the guard’s unrelenting grip. The resistance only lasts a few seconds before Eddie’s muscles give out and he’s dragged away.

Astonishingly, Eddie respects the stern warning he receives. He knows that if he impedes, it’ll make things worse for you. He’s done enough damage as is.

In the third-floor waiting room, Eddie settles into the chair in the far corner. Sitting near the window would provide him with vitamin D, which would help him feel a little brighter, but he intentionally avoids it. He won’t allow himself to feel the glow of the sun when you’re clinging to life by the skin of your teeth.

The room is no larger than fifteen by eleven feet and has a sterile atmosphere that makes Eddie feel rather uneasy. The adrenaline dwindles from his system, allowing him to drift off while resting in the firm armchair. Understandably, considering he didn’t sleep well last night without you beside him.

Over the course of the day, the respiratory analysts run tests to determine whether you can be weaned off of the ventilator but you’re still unable to breathe unassisted.

“Mr. Munson?” A tall, older male doctor asks flatly.

Eddie stirs, his frizzy curls flying as he shakes away the drowsiness weighing on his eyelids. “Yeah, yes. That’s me.” He rubs his eyes with his fists and sits up. “How’s she doing, is she alright?”

“Well, the acute agonal respiration has…”

Eddie stares blankly as the medical jargon goes in one ear and out the other. It sounds like an entirely different language, he has no fucking clue what the doctor is talking about. Eddie is trying his best to comprehend the complex terminology.

“...a coma has been induced to allow her a better chance at healing. With that, we’re hoping to see a reduction in brain swelling. Though I do regret to inform you that the likelihood of her waking is a matter of if, not when.’

It feels like the roof is crashing down on Eddie, thrusting him through the layers of the earth until he reaches the molten outer core. Grief eats away at his sweat-slick skin, causing a loss of feeling in his fingertips as if the blood in his veins slows to a crawl.

“...If she does rouse, there’s a likelihood that she’ll experience anterograde amnesia.”

Eddie scoots to the edge of his seat and runs his palms roughly down his face. “Amnesia? Does that mean she won’t remember me?” He gulps sorely and his eyes form a glassy sheen at the notion of everything that the two of you shared being lost forever. He doesn’t even want to imagine what his life would be like without you.

The doctor opens and closes his hand as if to catch Eddie’s concern as it floats through the air. “No, no. She shouldn’t have difficulty with memory retrieval. Consolidation is what may be impacted. Only temporarily, we hope.”

With a disheartened “thank you” from Eddie, the doctor excuses himself. The strength that had kept Eddie’s tears at bay dwindles and he slumps back into the chair, sobbing noisily. He sinks his top teeth into his knuckles in an attempt to muffle the whimpers that tumble from his lips. What is he supposed to do now? Is he going to start praying to a god he doesn’t believe in?

With his optimism beyond pulverized, Eddie is overcome with the fear of losing you. How could he have let something like this happen? While managing the chaos of the present, Eddie lost sight of his future. You.

To say he’s regretful would be a substantial understatement. As Eddie realizes that you were in the burning car that he’d driven past, he feels like he’s going to be sick. The sensation is so strong that he keeps a small trash can nearby just in case.

Beyond the thick panes of glass, the setting sun brushes the horizon and leaves the sky a flushed pink. Eddie attempts to talk some sense into himself. As difficult as it is, he takes on the responsibility of notifying your friends and family by phone call. Of the many, one call goes out to Robin.

As soon as she’s able, Robin arrives to provide Eddie with the emotional support he desperately needs. Few words are exchanged as Eddie drifts in and out of crying fits. She sits beside him and strokes his back reassuringly while he hiccups and coughs.

Robin hasn’t witnessed Eddie this perturbed before. It’s evident to her how sincerely in love he continues to be with you even though he neglected to express that when it mattered most.

A twister of bleak thoughts rips through Eddie’s mind, turning his mental state to rubble. It’s hard to process each emotion individually when they’re all equally loud. At this point, all he can think about is the little things that he may never get to do again. One particular memory stands out from the rest.

In the moments after Eddie made love to you for the first time, you laid in his bed on your stomach; naked, drowsy, and utterly satisfied. You looked ethereal to him. Eddie traced the contour of your spine with the tips of his fingers while you slept. He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear to admire your sleepily blissed-out expression. Thereupon, Eddie knew that you were the most important aspect of his life and that wouldn’t change.

As much as she'd like to, Robin can't stay all night. After sacrificing her evening to console him, she has to go home. Which leaves Eddie by his lonesome once again. It’s a rough night but somehow he manages to catch some shut eye.

Come morning, the staff still won’t allow Eddie to visit you. He rings Robin and Wayne to update them when he receives the slightest bit of information. There’s no regression in your condition, but that offers little relief.

In the following days, Eddie camps out in the waiting room. Forfeiting his comfort for the sake of being there for you. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he wasn’t there in the event that you needed him. After four days drag by, you’re finally capable of breathing without the assistance of the mechanical ventilator.

“Mr. Munson, would you like to see her now?” A nurse asks.

Eddie’s eyes widen with the desperate nod of his head. “Fucking finally.” He murmurs to himself.

Now that you’re no longer in critical condition, you’ve been situated in a room outside of the ICU. The nurse leads Eddie to the room and he hesitates outside the doorway. Up until now, he wanted to see you more than anything. But now that he can, he’s petrified. Taking the deepest breath he’s ever taken, he enters.

The blunt discomfort in his ribs is alleviated by how pretty you look. You’ve been cleaned up, which makes you appear less mangled than you did when he saw you last. Eddie's movement resembles a shuffle and his eyes switch between your face and his dirty sneakers. As if trying not to startle you, he carefully pulls up a seat at your bedside to absorb his new reality.

The steady beep of the heart rate monitor brings consolation because it reminds him that you are in fact still alive. Your unmoving hand is gently taken into his trembling palm. Eddie handles it delicately, knowing how fragile you must be.

He contemplates in silence, unsure if you would even be able to hear him if he did talk. Surely, you must be in there somewhere. In a circumstance like this, what would be the right thing for him to say?

The pad of Eddie’s thumb strokes your knuckles with a featherlight touch and his burnt caramel irises are downcast in chagrin. He can’t bring himself to look at you for very long, feeling that he doesn’t deserve to because he hurt you.

With his gaze remaining fixed downward, his other senses heighten in the hopes of detecting a subtle twitch or quiver. Any kind of indication that you know he’s there and that he promises to be by your side for as long as he lives.

Your motionlessness is killing him, but you look agonizingly peaceful. Beneath the plum-colored bruises, stitches, and scabs, you’re still the beautiful girl he treasures. Eddie whispers, “my sweet angel,” as he places a kiss on the back of your hand.

The tears that run astray trickle down his cheeks, each salty droplet holding a memory. Eddie isn’t ready for you to become a real angel. If you do, he’ll spend the rest of his life searching for white feathers and shapes in the clouds. Eddie will endlessly scour for signs that you’re watching over him.

Thirty minutes pass before he finally garners the courage to speak. “I don’t really know where to start, this feels kinda silly. But first and foremost, I owe you an apology.” Eddie tries to swallow the stale air that's making his throat feel brittle. “Sweetheart, I am so sorry. I know that probably doesn’t mean shit. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself, so I don’t expect you to.”

With his free hand, Eddie wipes his cheeks with the hem of his shirt. “If I’m being honest, I’m fucking terrified that you aren’t gonna wake up. I miss you so god damn much. I can’t imagine how tired you are, and if you wanna let go… It’s okay.”

Eddie can feel pressure building behind his eyes as the tears threaten to fall faster. He blinks them away and tries to stay focused. “But I want you to stay, baby. I’m not done being selfish yet, I need you to come back to me. Please come back. I promise I'll treat you better this time.”

It feels like he’s on a bullet train, the outside world soaring by at lightning speed while the hospital room is eerily stationary. “I swear to god, I’ll never make you feel alone like that again. No more broken promises either.” Eddie hooks his pinky finger with yours, solidifying his word.

There’s a knock at the door and Eddie peers over his shoulder. A nurse enters with a full rally bag and a roll of bandages. "You'll need to step out for a moment."

Eddie is unwilling to leave your side, but he knows he shouldn’t interfere. When he rises from his seat, he gives your hand a brief kiss. Eddie glances behind him before leaving and thinks as if saying to you, “I’ll be right back, princess. Don’t be scared.”

As the nurse is refreshing your bandages, Eddie wanders until he happens upon the gift shop. He purchases a wimpy bouquet with the pocket change he has on him. When he’s allowed to return to your room, he places the vase on the utility cart beside the bed. Even though you’re unable to see them, Eddie tells himself that you like them.

From thereon, Eddie never leaves your side. He doesn’t care about the awful nicotine withdrawal or how much he misses his mattress, there’s not a chance in hell that he’s going to be separated from you longer than absolutely necessary. Your hand never leaves his for as long as he's sitting at your bedside.

The staff takes pity on him and brings him ham and cheese sandwiches. Eddie struggles to eat one-handed but he makes it work. He wonders if you’re hungry, considering you’re surviving off of IV mixtures. He misses eating junk food with you and licking the cheese dust off of your fingers on movie nights.

Eddie’s sanity gradually slips due to being confined to the small room, but having visitors is keeping him relatively sane. Over the remainder of the week, the atmosphere vibrantly evolves. The gifts from Wayne, the Hellfire Club members, and your family bring a spiritedness similar to that of a blooming field of spring flowers. Themed balloons, greeting cards, and assorted floral arrangements line the windowsill.

Robin buys you a stuffed monkey that she names Bananas and it stays tucked under your arm. She stops in every other day, usually bringing Eddie clean clothes from home. Robin keeps you company while he takes brisk showers in the private bathroom. She even brings nail polish and paints your fingernails your favorite color.

Eddie wishes you could see how incredibly loved you are. In part, he's glad that you’re not awake because you don’t have to bear the damage your body has endured.

His thoughts continue to consume him. Eddie incessantly scolds himself for having ruined the best thing that's ever happened to him. He feels wholly responsible for you being in this state. If he hadn’t fucked up, there wouldn’t have been a fight, and you wouldn’t have left.

Eddie is slouched in the same uncomfortable chair that he’s been glued to for two weeks. He’s currently zoned out while mindlessly drawing shapes on your wrist. His eyes are fixed on the western program playing on the outdated television across the room. Eddie is pulled back to reality by the twitch of your fingers in his grasp.

His heart leaps in his chest and his eyes switch to where his hand is joined with yours. Eddie holds his breath, sits up straight, and stares intensely. He’s convinced that he’s just imagining things until there’s another twitch. And another.

Eddie’s eyes dart between your hand and your face, whispering “C’mon, baby. You can do it.”

Your eyelashes flutter as your lids steadily retract, though they don’t open very much. It’s like the storm is dispersing and the sky is pulling itself together as you come to.

Eddie is elated, to say the least. He tries to stay calm because the last thing he wants is for you to be frightened.

“There’s my girl,” He says softly while stroking your arm. Tears of pure joy roll off his cheeks. “Hi, sweetheart.” Eddie sniffles, “I really missed you.”

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foli-vora · 11 months

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run to you: chapter five

marcus pike x f!reader

A/N: life is hectic atm but i'm so glad to finally get this out! i swear i'm gonna get around to replying to all of your lovely comments on chapter four. i really appreciate your love and support for this story and i'm forever thanking you, even if i don't get around to replying as quick as i want! so not a lot of marcus and reader in this chapter, like... at all lmao, but the storyline is now picking up and we can fasten our seatbelts for the turbulent ride ahead. enjoy, angels! x

Summary: Following on from ‘Traitor’ and 'You’re Somebody Else’. An unexpected visitor throws you right back into the life you thought you left behind. Working beside the man that put you behind bars is one thing, pretending like you never loved him is another.

Word count: just over 4.5k

Warnings: angst, swearing, the bestest golden retriever himbo bff, talk of crime and undercover operations, mentions of heartache, mentions of jail/being incarcerated, talk of murder/bodies, smutty flashback (18+ only), Patrick Jane, super brief blink-and-you-miss-it Lisbon appearance (poor marcus bb is not doing good rn lmao SUFFER BITCH), and the usual warning: bitter saltiness that only one man brings to life in us

main masterlist | series masterlist

This story will have explicit sexual scenes in the future so 18+ only.

He’s hovering.

At first, it’s almost easy to ignore—you think he’s just watching you paint with a small sense of curiosity and would move away once boredom finds him, but you’ve never been one for people looming over your shoulder for an extended period of time, and so the irritation quickly starts to seep in.

The hand holding the paintbrush drops, and you look expectantly at him while knocking your headphones off of one ear, “Can I help you, agent?”

Jacob leans on the table next to you and tears into the homemade sub in his hands, chewing loudly as a small smearing of mayonnaise gathers at the corner of his lips.

He gives a nod, mumbling around the mouthful of food, “Just makin’ sure you eat.”

You blink in surprise, glancing at the window, “It’s lunchtime already?”

“A bit past,” Jacob replies, moving away now that he has your attention and sits himself on a chair at the table, “but I didn’t want to let you go late without eating. Gotta keep up your energy, Monet—don’t want you running yourself into the ground.”

“Thanks,” you murmur softly, organising your little workstation and rolling your aching shoulders.

The break is surprisingly welcome. You didn’t even realise how long you’d been lost in your work until you stopped, and now the throb in your fingers is all you can focus on. You clench and unclench your hand as you walk to your bag and ready some lunch, careful of the hot food you retrieve from the microwave.

Jacob doesn’t look at you as you seat yourself opposite him, too engrossed in studying the painting hanging on the easel.

“You’re good at this,” Jacob notes, eyeing the almost completed piece waiting to be taken wherever by Marcus’ team, “how’d you get into this stuff? Art school?”

Appetite now gone, you shift in your seat, suddenly far too interested in pushing the rice into small mountains in your glass dish.

Breathe.

He doesn’t know.

“I uh… I actually did it for a living.”

“Oh? Nice.”

There’s no malice in his tone, no mistrust, just pure interest.

He doesn’t glare at you, or pull a face of suspicion. It doesn’t even occur to him that it may have all been under the table and illegal. You feel a little guilty, almost as if you’d been leading him to believe you weren’t a previously convicted criminal. It makes you want to own it, to just speak your truth and let him make his own judgement of your actions.

Maybe it would be best to do so, so he would know where he stands and how he should view you. You’re not a good person, and maybe he deserves to know that. He does deserve to know that.

“It was… it wasn’t legal. That’s how I got caught up in Marcus’ radar,” you admit quietly, briefly letting your eyes meet his and watching the flicker of surprise flash across his features before dropping your gaze again, afraid to watch his warmth and friendliness disappear.

“Oh.”

Nothing is said for a few minutes.

You swear you can feel the seconds trickling by, your nerves picking up and heightening with every silent tick. The small bit of the lunch you’d packed last night and eaten starts to churn uncomfortably in your stomach, swirling with your growing anxiety and threatening to bubble up your throat.

You can’t look at him.

“How’d you get caught?”

“It was a whole thing. Apparently the FBI had been after them—us—for a while… I knew it was big, I wasn’t stupid, but I guess I just tried to ignore the other side of it all. The money was good, and it felt nice. Marcus went undercover—guess they wanted someone on the inside, and I just happened to fall in the trap.”

And fall into the trap you did. You fell good. One look into those warm brown eyes and your walls had crumbled. You still don’t understand how it all happened. If only you could go back and scream at your more naive self, tell her to just walk away and never look back.

God, had you truly been that lonely? To open up so quickly, so easily, with a complete stranger? Would things have played out differently if you had just been stronger and ignored the obvious attraction and turned a cheek to his advances? Would he have just moved on to somebody else for the sake of the case?

It makes you angry, and you don’t have a clue as to why. Maybe it’s because somewhere deep within you, beneath the bitterness and the hurt, you wanted to believe he actually did want you, and not just use you as a means to finish the investigation. You wanted to believe that a part of it, even just a slither of it, was real.

Stupid.

Of course it wasn’t real. None of it was.

Jacob nods in understanding, “So that’s why you hate Pike?”

Hate?

Is that what you feel for him?

The angry side of you says yes. Yes, you hate him and everything he fucking stands for, and that you’d feel this way forever… but it doesn’t sit right, feel right. Maybe you don’t. Maybe hate isn’t what it is. Resentment? Disappointment, perhaps?

“I don’t hate him,” you sigh quietly, giving up on lunch and pushing it away from you, “not… not really. I mean, I did. For months I wished all sorts of horrible shit to happen to him, but I… I don’t know. I guess I just accepted it for what it was after a while. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t like him—at all—but I just want to forget it all happened and move on. I want my fresh start, you know? It’s hard seeing him, being around him again, after all the heartbreak.”

“Wait,” Jacob frowns, holding a hand out to stop you from speaking any more, “when you say you ‘fell into the trap’, does that… were you guys a thing? While he was undercover? Was it serious?”

“It was to me,” you admit with a murmur, “even had me picking out a damn wedding dress.”

The laugh that you force from your lips is strained and void of any true humour.

If anything, it’s an attempt to steer the direction of the conversation from diving any deeper into the overwhelming feelings you had for a man that had never existed. It’s humiliating to even think about. Maybe if you laugh about it, the sting of it all won’t hurt as much.

“Oh well,” you breathe, straightening in your seat and twisting your lips to resemble a faint smile, “it’s all in the past. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Jacob watches you play with your food with a look you can’t quite identify. You don’t want to risk looking at him too much, afraid that he’ll see the clear pain swirling in your eyes. The damage has probably already been done. He’s seen it all, and probably more. He’s a Federal Agent—their job relies on reading people on a daily basis.

“Hey,” he mutters, giving you a small comforting smile when you eventually pull your gaze away from the table to look at him, “for what it's worth, I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how you must’ve felt. It must’ve been really tough, and I’m sorry you had to go through that alone.”

Your features twist into a frown, “Who said I was alone through it?”

He watches you knowingly for a moment, his brows raising ever so slightly as his small smile turns a little sadder, sympathetic. He’s right, and he knows it. You had been alone. It’d been the most alone you’d ever felt, and you’ll spend the rest of your life hoping to never feel that way again.

Swallowing the growing lump in your throat, you give a small shrug and drop your fork with a quiet clatter, “I deserved it.”

“No, you didn’t. Yeah, you’ve made some pretty shit decisions in the past—I’m not debating that, but I like to think of myself as a good judge of character. You’re not a bad person, not like the ones we’re used to.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yeah, I do.”

There’s nothing but sincerity in his tone. You watch him for a few minutes, eyes darting between his bright green ones and searching for anything that gives you a small feeling of doubt that his words are nothing but a lie.

You find nothing.

A true smile starts to grow along your lips and you dip your head, unable to keep meeting his genuine gaze without feeling the sting of tears in your eyes.

“Thank you, Jacob. I appreciate that.”

“You’re welcome, Kahlo.”

It’s quiet, and you feel like you can bear the sight of food again.

Your shoulders feel lighter, the ache in your chest has dissipated. It’s freeing. You hadn’t yet been able to speak on what had happened without someone focusing on the crime part.

The inmates you had bunked with, the counsellors in jail, the people hiring you once you got out… they all had that pre-judgement of you. The title of criminal followed you throughout every interaction, but not here, not with him.

You pick up your fork and start picking at your food, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. The slice of Jacob’s sudden huff cuts through the air, and he throws his almost eaten sub onto the table before crossing his arms in obvious irritation.

“God, what a fuckin’ dick.”

—

Heat—it’s everywhere.

It sticks to your skin, it swells in the pit of your stomach, it builds and builds over your flesh with every deep roll of his body over yours. It should be too much, too overwhelming, but your nails still dig into the soft skin of his back in a silent cry for more.

Just when you think he can’t possibly get any closer, he does. He pushes—crushes—you into the mattress, hands cradling the back of your head in an effort to keep you as close as possible. So close, so fucking close, you’re practically breathing in the other, with no room left for oxygen between you and it’s absolute bliss.

He’s breathless against the skin of your throat, nothing but soft whimpers and the hush of sharp exhales filling your ears. Lips press wherever they can reach, trailing paths of fire along your cheeks and the length of your neck until you squirm from the sensation, fighting both the urge to hide from his tender touch and stretch out for more.

“A-Alex,” you breathe, face turning enough to trace the tip of your nose along the shell of his ear.

He exhales sharply, hips faltering ever so slightly. His face briefly falls away from breathing in your skin, dipping his head and hiding his features. Despite the unexpected jolt in his rhythm, he still moves, still rolls his hips in that way he’s fucking mastered, ensuring every upwards roll of his hips has that delicious bit of friction along your clit.

It’s maddening.

It’s perfection.

The ecstasy rolling through your body hits an all time high, and your thighs tighten around his hips, coaxing him to brush harder, push deeper into the wet heat of your pussy until you start to feel that sweet, sweet edge start to creep along the edge of your nerves.

More, more, more—

“Ale–”

He suddenly rears forward, moulding his lips to yours and stealing the very breath from your lungs. It’s always the same. The kiss is urgent, all teeth and tongue and it’s impossible to speak another word. You struggle to keep up with his intensity, too busy focusing on that overwhelming high and the tightening that threatens to give at any second now.

It’s good—it’s so fucking good, you swear you’re going crazy. He does that to you. Though you can’t say it, breathe it, his name is all you hear in your mind, its own soft echo a consistent companion to the sheer pleasure he drowns you in.

Alex, Alex, Alex.

—

It’s been a month.

A month in your new little workspace, a month of painting, a month of successfully avoiding him. Despite it being his investigation, he now keeps his distance from the makeshift art space he had given you. Maybe he finally got the message that you didn’t want to be around him, that the mere thought of even uttering a single word to him made you feel almost nauseous.

You haven’t seen him in weeks.

When you finish a piece, he sends his agents. You know a few by name now, but don’t bother with small talk. They come, give you a friendly hello, take the finished, wrapped painting and leave—that’s it.

That’s all it is.

You don’t have to do anything else, and it’s wonderful. You spend your days painting, relishing in the familiar feel of a brush between your fingers and enjoying the legal money deposited into your account every week.

You get ahead with bills. You buy some new clothes. You feel refreshed, finding a certain needed peace from the sudden financial stability. You know it’s not going to last—Jacob doesn’t talk about the case a whole lot, but you know that the team has made some progress with it, so you put a little money aside for the day the FBI no longer needs you.

He becomes a fast friend, and if you were ever to find it within you to thank Marcus for anything in this world, it would be him. You surely would’ve gone batshit insane if you’d been holed up in that room by yourself day in and day out, probably worse if you had been locked up with Marcus every day.

But not Jacob.

Jacob keeps the air light.

He’s kind, funny, and a bit of an idiot, and you find yourself fondly laughing nearly every day at the little things he would do or say. You thoroughly enjoy his company, and love hearing about his time in school, training to be an agent and the few cases he’s worked on so far.

He asks you questions and seems genuinely interested in getting to know you and of you past, never once making you feel lesser than or lowly for your less than ideal life before this.

“You made a decision, Matisse. Good or bad—own it.”

He keeps to himself whenever you find yourself focused on your work, and only steps in to remind you to take care of yourself. On the odd occasion, he’d join you, content to watch you work with a shine of interest.

You don’t like it, so you shove canvas paper and oil pastels at him to keep him from hovering any longer and it works. It becomes a little activity of sorts, a release for him whenever paperwork starts to push at his patience a little too much.

“They should’ve hired you for this case,” you mumble teasingly around your lunch, grinning at the pride filling his features as he finishes his latest project—his own creation inspired by the Van Gogh you’re currently working on.

It’s pretty, full of bright colours and soft swirling patterns. The Future, he had called it, and apparently—it was all for you.

You need something colourful, Da Vinci, something happy. You’re too sad.

The FBI doesn’t deserve him.

“Hey, I’m proud of this,” he retorts sharply, pointing a finger smudged with colour at you but his tone doesn’t match the bright amusement in his eyes, “belongs in a damn museum. It’s an original Wilson—people will flock to see it. You just wait, Michaelangelo, this will bring a lot of money down the track, mark my words.”

Your chuckle is cut off by the insistent buzz in his pocket, and he stands immediately, answering the call with a swift Wilson and stepping away from the table with his phone pressed to his ear.

It’s Marcus... you know just by the way he positions himself, ensuring to keep a bit of distance and turning away so you don't have to potentially hear his voice from the other end. You quickly lose interest in the conversation, focusing back on the open book you’ve been trying—and failing—to get into the last few days.

The interest in the conversation was lost, until you hear it.

“Understood, sir. We’ll leave now.”

Immediately looking up in question, your brows start to furrow as Jacob wraps up the phone call and strides back to the table quietly. Anxiety begins to build in the pit of your stomach at the sudden serious set of his features, unused to seeing the usually bright and bubbly face now so stoic. It’s Agent Wilson, not Jacob.

“We’re leaving?” you ask in confusion, “but I haven’t even done—”

The frown between his thick brows deepens, and he barely looks at you while he shrugs his navy blue suit jacket on, leaving faint smudges of orange and pink on the lapels.

“Leave it, we need to get to the office.”

The anxiety immediately gives way to dread.

The office? Where Marcus and his team are? Why?

You want to ask if you can stay behind—straight up refuse to go anywhere near that damn building—but the firm set of Jacob’s lips lets you know it’s non-negotiable.

He helps you with your bag, a certain urgency to his movements, and then you’re descending the stairs with him hot on your tail. He ushers you into the car, throwing a wary glance each way down the street before moving around the vehicle and sliding into his seat.

You swear you can feel your heart beating in your throat. He’s clearly in a rush, but you’re at a loss as to why. Has something happened? Is there danger? Are you in danger?

With your mind beginning to hurl possibilities at you, you start to feel more and more nauseous with every swift swerve through traffic Jacob makes.

“Is everything okay?” You ask carefully, fingers fiddling with the straps of your bag as you try to calm the rage of your heart.

He briefly looks away from the traffic and gives you a small reassuring smile, “Of course. There’s just been a big development and I’m needed back at the office for a debriefing, sorry for the rushing.”

“Oh,” you breathe in relief, “okay, I understand. Well, you can drop me home if that’s easier for you.”

“It’s an urgent thing and uh… Pike would like you at the office.”

Your lips press shut and an immediate frown overcomes your expression.

Of course.

If there had been developments in the case, why did you need to be there? It’s not like you're an agent with unlimited access to the available information. Your own folder Marcus had given you was severely lacking any true details of the case beyond what you needed to know, and it’s not like you were involved in anything anymore, so you had very little to contribute further than your creative talents.

You keep quiet for the rest of the quick trip, taking the hint that now is not the time for small talk. The need to chat is nonexistent to you right now anyway, even if Jacob happened to be in a perkier mood. The mere thought of seeing, and talking to, Marcus again does nothing to ease the dread churning in the pit of your gut.

The building is not a welcome sight, yet you hurry to follow Jacob from the brightly lit parking lot and into the home of the FBI. He stays beside you the whole way, through the wide crowded corridors and during the silence of the elevator, giving you one final reassuring smile before he pushes open the door to the Art Crime Department.

It’s busy.

Marcus doesn’t suddenly appear from nowhere and bombard you both at the entrance. You can take a deep breath. The shrill ringing of phones fill the space, and the shuffle of agents near running about with various files and pieces of paper takes you a little off guard.

There’s an uncomfortable tension hanging in the air. You can’t quite put your finger on why it unsettles you so.

You follow Jacob further into the chaos, ensuring to keep out of the way and keeping an eye out for the one man you seem to now be bracing for, steeling your nerves into something harder, something unbreakable. You don’t need to wait long—there he is.

He looks tired.

Marcus appears from a room, presumably his own personal office, raking a hand through his mussed hair and saying a few brief words to a coworker before his eyes zero in on Jacob. He points to the conference room where you’d once sat at the beginning of this, already heading that way with another agent, and Jacob gives a short nod in response.

You try to blend into the background behind Jacob so Marcus doesn’t take much notice of you, but it’s not even a moment later and his eyes are suddenly meeting yours. The feeling of his attention is instant, and the increase of your heart is familiar by now.

Despite the distance between you, you feel how they roam over your face, seemingly searching your expression, but it’s not long until they fall away and you’re left to exhale quietly, now free from his gaze.

He disappears into the conference room, and you swallow down the thick feeling of anxiety building in the back of your throat. He doesn’t seem eager, or interested, in talking to you straight away, and you’re relieved by that—you could mentally and emotionally prepare yourself a little more.

“My desk is over there if you want to sit down,” Jacob offers, turning and walking backwards in order to point you in the right direction, “and I’ve got snacks in the bottom drawer.”

Rolling your eyes, you give a strained huff of amusement and start walking towards it, “Of course you do.”

Your shoulder catches the frame of someone else and you quickly take a step back, wide eyes locking with a pair of vaguely amused blue ones.

He’s dressed sharply, much different to the basic suits the agents around him wear, in a well kept grey toned three piece suit with the simple white collar of his shirt popped open at the base of his throat. His soft blond curls are styled neatly back, and the gentle scent of tea wafts from the cup in his hold.

He’s pretty, by society’s standards, but his eyes are sharp, as if they can see right into the very centre of you.

You don’t like it.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you mumble, “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

You don’t linger to hear what the agent has to say. You hurry into Jacob’s desk space and throw your bag under it before taking a seat in the simple desk chair, the backrest squeaking as you rest into it.

His desk is as you expected it to look—messy, but organised in his own little chaotic way. The edges of his computer screen are littered with sticky notes of reminders, his ballpoint pens are all missing their lids, he has a bobble head character of a sports player next to his keyboard and a crumpled paper plane lies hidden beneath a thick notebook.

It’s undoubtedly Jacob, end to end.

The wide variety of sweets and chips resting on old files doesn’t surprise you at all when you tug at the stiff drawer, and you immediately zero in on the ones he’s been sharing with you over the past few weeks.

“Jane, stay out of trouble,” a brunette orders sharply as she passes, briefly catching your attention and the man you had previously bumped into comes to a stop just beside you.

“Aye aye, Captain,” he replies dryly with the growings of a smirk, sipping quietly at the tea in his hands and watching the last few agents file into the conference room before the door closes.

Do people still use saucers? He does. He half turns towards you and eyes you curiously as you sway absent-mindedly in Jacob’s desk chair, breaking into the packet of sour candies.

“You’re not an agent.”

You blink up at him and give a small, polite smile, “No, I’m not.”

He makes a low noise of thought to himself and sits on the edge of the desk opposite to Jacob’s, watching you over the rim of the plain white cup he lifts to his lips.

You shift a little under his study, busying yourself with picking a lemon flavoured candy out from the packet and looking over the various little notes decorating the dated computer screen.

Meeting @ 10 Tues. Picasso retrieval daily @ 8. Get bread. Call ma before she has a damn heart attack—

“How long have you been an artist?”

Eyes rolling back to the stranger, you give a slightly confused, “What? How do you know I’m an artist?”

“You have paint on your fingers,” he replies, like it’s the most obvious thing in the room.

Rubbing your fingers together, you feel the tell tale crack of dried paint over your skin and glance down at it in vague interest. He’s got a really good set of eyes. You shift a little in the seat and pinch the ends of your sleeves before pulling them down further over your hands to hide them from him.

“A few years,” you reply vaguely, “you’re rather observant, Agent Jane.”

It comes across more as an accusation rather than a general statement, and it doesn’t seem to bother him in the slightest. He grins, flashing a nice set of pearly white teeth.

“Patrick,” he supplies, “and I’m a consultant.”

“Didn’t even know that was a thing,” you mutter plainly, not liking the way you feel like a fucking open book with this stranger, “well, shouldn’t you be in there, then?”

You nod towards the closed door of the conference room and Patrick makes a low noise of dismissal, a slight scrunch curling his nose.

“I already know everything about the murders—Lisbon can handle it.”

The word cuts through the air and chills you right to the bone.

“Murders? What murders?”

Patrick looks at you, shrugging lightly.

“That’s why we’re here. The fancy little tracker led this bunch down to the meeting point in California, but we found the bodies first. Deal gone wrong, I’m guessing. The buyer probably found the painting to be a fake, and got rid of the delivery men because of it. Very messy.”

Your stomach turns.

The painting? Your painting?

“What was wrong with the piece?” You ask quietly, voice suddenly strained.

“Not sure,” Patrick murmurs, taking an apparent interest in the way you’re reacting to his information and studying you from over his tea, “guess we’ll know soon enough.”

You swallow, a sting of sweat building along the back of your neck. They knew it was a replica? How? You must’ve done something different, there must’ve been something wrong with it. Otherwise how else would they know? They wouldn’t.

Have you made a mistake?

Is that why Marcus wanted you here? Are you in trouble? What would be the ramifications of your mistake? After all, it’s your fault. People had died because you didn’t focus hard enough on your work. The FBI have probably realised how useless you are if you can’t even convince some shady black market dealers that your pieces are real.

You must’ve been distracted. You never made mistakes, and now you’ve made one that cost lives. How many? It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that it happened, and now you have to live with that knowledge.

People have died. People have died because of you.

You fucked up.

tags: @maievdenoir, @javier-pena, @lv7867, @dihra-vesa, @katronautt, @radiowallet, @januarystears, @missminkylove, @beskarprincessjenny, @mswarriorbabe80, @danidrabbles, @amneris21, @eri16, @absurdthirst, @hnt-escape, @acourtofsnakes, @ezrasbirdie, @mstgsmy66, @lovesbiggerthanpride, @coaaster, @sherala007, @greeneyedblondie44, @wyn-n-tonic, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @shirks-all-responsibilities, @withasideofmeg, @harriedandharassed, @andruxx, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @prostitute-robot-from-the-future, @tanzthompson, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @hope-for-the-best-98, @fangirl-316, @christina-loves, @jediknight122, @hallway5, @xoxabs88xox, @nicolethered, @churchill356, @massivecolorspygiant, @just-here-for-the-moment, @gracie7209, @pinkie289, @lavenderluna10, @goodgriefitsawildworld

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike #pedro pascal x reader #the mentalist fic #run to you

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lottiecrabie · 3 months

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this is like the 75blr’s easter

what the hell have i been up to you might ask? well i bought plane tickets to england and am planning a trip during february. yes i will be at a 75 concert. yes i will meet some bffs. (me and wrongendofurcigarette in a bunk bed in manc we love to see it!!) i quit my job after two years and a half of being at the bakery. it will Hopefully stick and i won’t be so horrendously broke after my trip that i’ll need to crawl back to them. on a tragic note, my grandpa died and kind of threw our whole lives upside down as my grandma is very sick and it’s kind of impossible to have access to the money to take care of her. i said goodbye to my best friend who is taking a semester abroad, i won’t see her for five months. i updated my instagram after having the same update since 2019. i held a funeral for it today<3 my galatea matty also broke up with his gf today, though has left a door open to go back to her if i say no. if i’m drunk enough i might see him today. i deleted tumblr. i’ve abandoned pfms.

i assume this is why you’re really reading this update. yes, unfortunately, i have been so incredibly unmotivated to write pfms5 for the past six months that i couldn’t bring myself to even dream of continuing it. i have opened the google doc a never ending amount of times, and each of them i would stare at the blank document and exit, or write a few words and hate them and delete. it started bringing such unhappiness that i just didn’t feel like finishing it, and once i realized the thought of having it incomplete didn’t make me want to die, even my usual completist mindset couldn’t force me to finish anything.

i still hope that i’ll one day finish pfms because it’s genuinely a story that i love and want to tell and that i know exactly how it’ll go, but it’s in the way people dream of becoming billionaires. that’s probably not gonna happen, jerry, so start dreaming a back-up plan. until some miracle happens, pfms5 is abandoned and i am Officialy Retired.

i love you all. i originally planned to quiet quit tumblr but then i realized i wanted to still have access to this account when i felt like it😭

#The Crabsurrection #crabie

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x0x0josephinex0x0 · 26 days

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Flame-Bright | Part 2

After a literal age..........I finally wrote it. AND LET ME TELL U WHAT. It's not proofread, that's for sure! Genre: BFFS to ???? in this part, sports statistician!part time model!seungcheol x fem!fashion designer!reader Check out pt 1 for warnings, all still apply, DEFINITELY a menty b is described pretty generously and it is almost exactly how I experience bad bad bad mental health days. no smut in this part, there miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight be some *closed door* or implied smut in the next (and final) part. Also sorry if the end feels rushed....................................I have no good excuse just kind of wanted to write the next part because this part was SO angsty and hard for me to write. ALSO healthy levels of angst in this one, reader is DUMB AF sorry if that's frustrating, etc etc etc peace and love and sorry for all the warnings I probably forgot. A/N: This is also lowkey a love letter for @forcheol bc she fuels my fire for this cutie boy. breathe with me hani it's all gonna be ok

“I have a surprise for you!” Seungcheol practically sings as he crosses the threshold into your apartment.

“Are you finally going to let me sell your extra kidney on the black market?” you ask, your gaze laser-focused on the fabric in front of you as you make slow, painstaking cuts. “Because if not, I’m not interested.”

Seungcheol scoffs. “Firstly, we’ve been over this. I don’t have an extra kidney. I have the two I was born with.”

“But you only need one,” you remind him. “So the other one is superfluous.”

He shakes his head. “Secondly, it’s not that, but I’m pretty sure you’ll like this almost as much.”

“Will it make me a lot of money?” you say with a final snip through the thick velvet.

“Is that all you care about?” he asks you as you look up at him. He’s half-smiling with an eyebrow raised, and you can tell he’s fighting back a bigger grin.

“Duh,” you say. “No, but seriously. What’s the surprise?”

“I’m moving!” he announces excitedly.

Your jaw drops, along with your heart. “Wait, like…away?” you ask him.

“No, silly,” he reassures. “It’s a ten-minute walk in your direction from my old place.”

“So you’re moving…closer to me?” you ask, doing the mental math.

“Only about five minutes’ walk from here,” he says proudly. “And you know what’s the best part?”

His eyes are a little too eager. “Are you about to ask me to do something?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at him.

His smile falters a little bit, and you roll your eyes. “I knew it! What do you want from me?”

“Well, it’s something you’d like…something you’re good at…” he says sheepishly.

“So why are you hesitating?”

“I need you to feng shui the place,” Seungcheol blurts. “Um… decorate. So that it doesn’t turn into a mojo dojo casa house.”

“That’s it? I’d love to do that. I don’t know why you were so scared to ask.”

He smiles grimly. “Well, you’ll understand when we get there.”

******

“Hey, uh….you in there?” Seungcheol asks you, his worried eyes taking in your dropped jaw and the way your feet are absolutely cemented to the sidewalk.

“You bought this house?” you manage to choke out, finally tearing your eyes away from the structure to look at Seungcheol.

You knew this place – of course you did. How many times had you passed by to admire it, secretly daydreaming about planting camellia bushes by the front door and adding a swing to its old wraparound porch? How many unspoken wishes had you made at its front gate as you’d stared into its old boarded-up windows?

But this house – the one you’d fallen in love with despite its ugliness – was no longer boarded up. You’d wondered when it had been fixed up, supposing that in your business with work, you hadn’t had the time to take walks around the neighborhood. But now the porch is clean, the weeds have been pulled, new grass has been put down in the front yard, and the entire face of the house has been re-painted. It looks like a new home, with its pretty white brick and freshly-shingled brown roof, perfect for a new owner.

“When?” you ask. “When did you do this?”

“Oh, months ago,” Seungcheol admits meekly.

“And you waited to tell me – why?” you ask him, in a too-loud voice that makes a lady passing by stare at you in alarm as she hurries her small dog along.

“I’m sorry, I just…I kind of wanted it to be a surprise?” You give him your best “be serious” look, and he caves. “Okay, well, the truth is that I was toying with buying it for literally years, and the price dropped about six months ago.”

You realize what he’s getting at. “Oh,” you say softly. “About the time I got promoted.”

“And you were so busy,” Seungcheol says in a pleading tone. “I barely saw you regardless. And I knew you’d feel guilty if you knew I was fixing up the place and it was so close by and you couldn’t help. I was trying to prevent you from adding one more thing to your plate.”

You bite your lip. “Well, I can’t say I’m happy about it, but I guess I understand.” And if you’re being honest with yourself, you also know he’s right. You would’ve felt guilty. You feel guilty now, looking at the house that Seungcheol built without you, knowing you took no part in the remaking of this place that was so dear to you. Well, I suppose I’ll have to change that, you think to yourself.

“Do you want to see the inside?” Seungcheol suggests, seeming to guess the bittersweetness you’re feeling.

“Yes,” you say, following him up the walkway into the home.

It’s beautiful inside – but it’s empty. You try to distract yourself from your mixed emotions by putting your designer hat on. “So what do you want it to look like?” you ask Seungcheol, who is still watching you like he’s scared you’ll start yelling at him.

“I want it to look like I live here,” he answers simply. “You know me really well, so I kind of figured I’d trust you to do your thing.”

“I’m not an interior decorator,” you remind him. “But I’ll do my best. What’s your budget?”

At this, Seungcheol blushes. “Don’t worry about it.”

You level a sharp gaze at him. “Just how rich are you?”

“Do I have to answer that?” he begs.

“Yes,” you snap.

“Why are you mad?” he asks you.

“Because you kept such a massively huge secret from me – and now it seems like there’s another thing or two I still have to find out about you.” You sigh. “You’re my best friend, Seungcheol. You know everything there is to know about me. I thought it was the same for you.”

You know before Seungcheol even says anything that you crossed some invisible line -- his eyes flash with a fire you've seen in him when discussing your exes, but only rarely does he look at you like this. “Oh yeah?” he says quietly, but there’s a hard edge to his voice. “When was I supposed to bring it up to you, huh? When you were averaging 3 hours of sleep a night trying to learn your new role? When you were sick for three weeks after your first big project because you’d worked yourself to the bone, and I had to come check on you every day to make sure you hadn’t died in your sleep? When would it have been a good time to tell you?” He pauses at the sight of your face, at the hurt and shock there, and takes a deep breath and lets it out. “I’m sorry. I guess it’s just … I didn’t know. I didn’t know how to break the news.”

“I never asked,” you whisper. “It’s not all your fault. I – I never ask you what’s going on in your life. I’m a really selfish friend.” You bite your tongue to keep the tears that you can feel burning in your eyes from overflowing. It hurts to realize how much you rely on him, and how little he feels like he can do the same.

“No,” Seungcheol denies, his voice distressed. “No, listen. It’s not like that, either. It is the same for me. I always want to tell you when something happens in my life, but I just worry about complicating things for you. I know you always have a lot going on. There’s more moving parts to your life than there is to mine.” He takes a step closer to you. “And we’re not friends because you ask me about my day. We’re friends because we like being around each other.”

You can quite literally feel yourself dancing around what you wish you could say to Choi Seungcheol. Your heart is in your throat, and you have to take a deep breath before mustering up a smile — though it feels completely false. “You’re right,” you breathe. “But I still want to know. It might be a lot to handle but you have to give me the choice, Seungcheol.”

And you don’t say it — you can’t— but you think: it’s worth it if it’s you. And you can’t help but let one tear spill over.

Seungcheol makes a move toward you, but you hold your hand out to stop him. “I’m fine,” you reassure him, brushing the tear away and clearing your throat. “I just feel bad that I haven’t been as solid for you as you have for me.”

“I’m worried you’re now feeling like I regret taking care of you,” Seungcheol warns, his hands outstretched as though to pull you in. “I don’t mean to complain.”

You manage a watery chuckle. “I don’t feel like you’re complaining.”

“You know that’s how it goes, though, right?” he presses, seemingly unable to move on until he’s sure you understand. “Sometimes we’re both solid, sometimes I carry you, sometimes you carry me, sometimes we have to carry each other. That’s just life.”

You purse your lips at him. “Sounds like someone got an A in therapy.”

“At least I go to therapy.”

“Touché,” you reply drily, once again turning your gaze to the large entryway. “Well, I’ll need a tour if I’m gonna help you decorate this place.”

“Come with me,” Seungcheol offers, tilting his head at the arched doorframe leading to a wide open room.

“This is gonna be the kitchen,” Seungcheol informs you. “But I have no appliances or anything yet. But I want it to be a good entertaining space.”

“You’re planning on having people over?” you ask, trying to hide how shocked and delighted you are. One of the reasons you know you’re close with Seungcheol is that you’re one of the few friends he invites over.

“Of course, now that I’ve got the space,” he replies, a little miffed. “I didn’t have people over before because my apartment was small.” He gestures to the middle of the room. “I want a big table here. One where everyone can fit.”

The way he says it — so earnest, so sincere. A place for everyone. Everyone fits. You smile. “I love that.”

Seungcheol beams, and your knees go wobbly before you can prevent it.

***

The tour was, overall, a success. Regardless of your initial surprise, the thought that Seungcheol was going to own the home you’d loved for so long felt right. You were buzzing with ideas — some less comfortable than others. For some reason, the idea of designing Seungcheol’s master bedroom raised the hair on your neck.

You’re just about to leave when you notice a door in the entryway that you didn’t explore. “Where does that go?” you ask, approaching it to open it, but Seungcheol steps in front of it smoothly, cutting you off.

He raises an eyebrow. “Don’t worry about it,” he says with a smile, staring you down with unshakable confidence.

“Well, now I’m worried about it. What are you hiding?” you say, trying to skirt around Seungcheol. He very easily wraps an arm around your waist and hoists you around so that he’s between you and the door again, and though the sudden contact is alarming, you glare at him over your shoulder.

“Did you kill someone and hide the body in there?” you ask.

Seungcheol rolls his eyes. “No. That’s the best you could come up with?”

“Is there some weird culty crap in there, then? Are you planning on running a compound?”

“I actually don’t think I have the charisma necessary to be a cult leader,” he reasons. “I hate that you’ve thought that much about it,” you grumble, “but I kind of agree.”

“Hey!” he says, indignant. “You’re not supposed to bring up my lack of rizz.”

“You don’t have cult leader rizz, Seungcheol. That’s a compliment.” You shake your head. “This is a stupid conversation, and you still haven’t told me what’s in there!”

“That’s true,” he agrees, smiling sunnily down at you.

“I thought we said no more secrets,” you say, meeting his gaze.

“It’s not a secret. It’s a surprise,” he rationalizes, and you roll your eyes.

“So I’ll see it eventually?”

“Most definitely you will,” he assures. “Also, why were your first two guesses murder and cults? What kind of person do you think I am?”

“I hyperfixated on a true crime podcast last week,” you explain.

“Ah. Well, why don’t you hyperfixate on happier things? How busy are you today? Can we start shopping?”

He sounds so eager that you can’t bring yourself to shut him down, but the mysterious door stays in your head all the way up until your first post-breakup date with Jinho.

It is a bit of a rocky start. Jinho is an hour and a half late picking you up — but at least he texted beforehand, a definite improvement for how it’d been when you’d dated. “I’m so sorry,” he says, breathlessly, as he sweeps you into the cab. “I had a lot to do and it kind of got away from me.”

“It’s okay,” you say softly, tugging uncomfortably at the itchy black dress with its constricting high neck that had been hiding in the back of your closet since Jinho got it for you. He’d once complained that you never wore it, and you figured it would comfort him to see you making an effort to connect again, too.

The cab ride is pleasant enough, with Jinho talking about his work and his day. “How was your day?” he asks.

“Well, actually,” you tell him, “my friend Seungcheol bought that old house I’ve loved forever.”

“The one five minutes from your apartment?” Jinho asks. He’d been familiar with the place. “The one that was kind of a dump?”

“It had character,” you say, a little affronted. “And yes, that one. He renovated it and asked me to help him decorate.”

“Does he need art?” Jinho asks interestedly.

You consider for a minute. For some reason, the idea of Seungcheol meeting Jinho feels like crossing a line. “He might,” you allow. “I’ll ask him.”

“I’ll get him a friends’ discount,” Jinho says eagerly. “I actually need more clients these days.”

You nod, grinning at his enthusiasm and pulling out your phone to text Seungcheol and ask if he needs art. After you’re finished sending the text, you pull at your collar again, noticing that you’re sweating a little in the hot air from the car heaters, exacerbating the itch.

Jinho takes your hand in his. “I’m nervous too,” he says quietly.

And even though he misinterpreted your discomfort for nerves, it’s a little endearing to hear him admit that you’re affecting him. So you don’t withdraw your hand.

***

Seungcheol was at work with you the next day. You’d been too busy with the release of the line, so you hadn’t been able to be there for the promotional photos he’d taken for the company website. But a fashion magazine had wanted to use your brand for an upcoming editorial, and Minghao thought it would be good to have a familiar face in the room for Seungcheol, who the magazine had specifically requested to work with.

His first look was a ribbed black turtleneck with white trim beneath a distressed leather jacket. He looked amazing -- of course he did -- but you were expecting him to. What you were not expecting was how attractive Seungcheol became as he effortlessly shifted from your sweet and generous and warm best friend into a haughty, confident, smirking model. One second, Seungcheol was enthusing about how soft the turtleneck was, and the next, he was smoldering like a forgotten fire into the camera.

The photographer was obsessed with him. It was almost bothersome how often she approached him just to tweak his pose in the most insignificant way possible. You were almost positive it was just so she could let her hands flutter over the fine structure of his face and the perfect planes of his shape. It annoyed you even more that Seungcheol didn’t even seem to notice. He (infuriatingly) shot her a grateful smile after every correction.

You try to keep it out of your voice as you greet him at the end of the shoot. “You did amazing,” you say, because it’s the only thing you can trust to sound genuine about the experience.

“Thanks,” Seungcheol says easily. He’d finished the shoot in a stunning black denim set beaded with white crystal flames up the arms. Anyone else in this outfit might look a little crazy, but not him. He made it look like something anyone could wear. “These clothes are really comfy!” Seungcheol says, interrupting your errant thoughts (about him).

“That’s the idea,” you say with a smile. “Are you all tired out?”

“Why? Did you want to do something?”

You make a guilty face at his cheerful tone. “Meet with Jinho about the art?”

To his credit, Seungcheol only lets his smile slip a fraction before he agrees. You don’t need to ask him why he might not particularly want to meet with Jinho — as far as Seungcheol is concerned, the jury is still out in regards to your prodigal ex come home. He’d responded to the message you’d sent asking if Jinho could help him with a clipped “sure”, which honestly was enough to let you know that the three of you collaborating on this project was going to be weird at best and wildly uncomfortable at worst.

But still, Seungcheol travels to your apartment with you to await Jinho — even standing up as he arrives and greets you with a smile and a kiss on the cheek. “Hey,” he says breathlessly. “Did you wait long?”

“Not at all,” you say reassuringly, looking between them. You don’t know why, but it almost makes you laugh to watch them size each other up. Jinho’s eyes widen just slightly as they take in Seungcheol’s impressive build, and he can’t suppress a swallow as Seungcheol looks him over with an appraising sort of gaze. Although a couple inches shorter than Jinho, Seungcheol’s presence is far more impactful.

You can almost hear the tension siphon out of the room as Seungcheol finally breaks a smile. “Hi,” he says, holding out his hand. “I’m Seungcheol.”

“I’m Jinho,” he replies, taking the offered hand and wincing a little as Seungcheol squeezes. “Nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Have you?” Seungcheol says, shooting you a look.

“Well, I heard you renovated that house,” Jinho says hurriedly, finally taking a seat at the table.

“I did,” Seungcheol says, easing himself into a chair. “And it’s looking pretty bare at the moment.”

“Well, I hope I can help with that,” Jinho says fervently.

“She tells me you’re quite good at your job,” Seungcheol says, gesturing at you.

Jinho’s eyes sparkle as he looks at you, and your heart turns over in your chest. “Very kind of you,” he says.

You shrug. “Just true.” Never mind that you sometimes wished Jinho was worse at his job so he had more time for you. You try not to let the bitterness of that thought make a show on your face.

Seungcheol is watching both of you carefully when Jinho turns his attention to him. “What’s the budget we’re working with?” Jinho asks.

Seungcheol shrugs. “I’m pretty flexible.”

Jinho’s eyes go wide. “What, exactly, do you do for work?”

“I’m a sports statistician,” Seungcheol replies with a wry smile, “but I inherited a lot of money from my grandfather and spent the last ten years building a pretty significant real estate portfolio.”

Jinho nods in understanding while you gape at your friend. “You never told me that!” you say.

“Maybe I didn’t want you to like me for the money,” Seungcheol teases, smiling at your flabbergasted face.

“Mostly commercial real estate?” asks Jinho.

“Mostly business parks,” Seungcheol confirms. “I own a hotel downtown too.”

“Is the house your first residential acquisition?”

“The first I plan on living in myself,” Seungcheol clarifies.

Jinho nods. “Well, we can go one of three routes. You can use the art as another type of investment, or you can use it as just decor, or both.”

“I’m leaning toward decor,” Seungcheol says, “but investments would be cool, too.” He pulls out his phone. “I like calm pieces like this,” he explains, pointing at a few reference paintings — boats at a dock at sunrise, a still-life of dandelions on the shore of a pond, a cozy-looking city street in autumn. “Nothing too modern or sterile.”

Jinho nods again. “Okay, sounds good. I’ll see what I can do.”

It takes another half hour of finagling to get Jinho out of the apartment so you can whirl on Seungcheol. “Commercial real estate?” you say in a tiny voice.

“Yeah,” he says, and you can hear the tension from the argument yesterday in his voice.

“I’m not mad,” you say quickly.

“I know,” he says back. You stare at each other for a long time.

“Have I ever stayed in the hotel you own?” you finally ask to break the stony silence.

“Have you ever stayed in the Grandeur?” he fires back.

“You own the Grandeur?” you gasp, jaw dropping automatically.

“Yeah,” he says again. “We had my birthday there once and I liked it so much I thought…” He trails off and blushes.

“You thought what?”

And sheepishly, he looks down at the floor and replies in a quiet voice, “I thought it’d be a good birthday present.”

He actually laughs at the look on your face when he notices you. “This was all before I knew you,” he admits.

You sit down at the table with him again. “Okay, so, for the past few years we’ve been friends, you’ve been the richest person I’ve ever met. And I’ve met some very wealthy people. Like, when I bumped into you in the elevator, you were already a very wealthy man.”

“Yes,” he confirms. “This is why I think it’s silly to go Dutch when we go out to eat.”

“But you never said anything—“

“Because then I’d sound like a terrible person. ‘No, it’s fine, I’ll get this, I’m actually way richer than you.’”

“I might not have taken it that way,” you say doubtfully.

“Does it really change that much to know that I’m rich?” he asks. “I’m the same guy from before. Same personality and everything.”

“I know. It’s just weird to have to do the mental shift.”

“You don’t have to shift anything,” Seungcheol insists. “Everything is the same as it was before. You just have more information about me.”

“Why is this so weird for me?” you groan, slumping in your seat. “Intellectually, I get that you’re the same dude. But it just seems like you have this whole side of your life that you kept from me.”

“Maybe I was worried you’d react poorly,” Seungcheol says with a raised eyebrow.

You have to laugh at that. “You could be hanging out with celebrities. You could be dating models. But you hang out with me.”

He grins. “Well, you’re a lot more fun than most rich people.”

“Really?” you ask, rubbing at your forehead tiredly. “I guess being a disaster is entertaining, if nothing else.”

“You aren’t a disaster,” Seungcheol says with a warning tone. “And, for the third time, nothing is really different.”

“One thing’s for sure, though.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m never paying for another meal again,” you say, finally managing a real smile.

Seungcheol nods in approval. “That was how I hoped you’d react.”

“Just immediately start taking advantage of you?” you ask with a laugh.

“Well, yeah, pretty much,” Seungcheol says, and finally all the discomfort you’d been feeling dissolves into thin air as the two of you laugh together again.

***

“So…you spend a lot of time with Seungcheol,” Jinho says at dinner next weekend.

“Well, yeah,” you say. “He’s my best friend.”

Jinho nods thoughtfully, but he doesn’t look happy. “Do you think Seungcheol has ever had feelings for you?” he finally asks.

“I’m pretty certain he’s never felt anything past platonic for me,” you say, staring into your glass of water. “Why?”

Jinho gives you a long, hard look before answering. “You seem very close.”

“Like siblings?” you offer up half-heartedly. “There’s nothing going on between us, I promise. If there was, I wouldn’t have agreed to start seeing you again.”

Jinho nods. “I believe you. He just — he’s kind of intense, isn’t he?”

You contemplate. “I think he can be,” you finally respond. “Seungcheol is like … I don’t know. Maybe a fire is the best analogy. Capable of being comforting and quite destructive.”

“If he’s the flame, what does that make me?” Jinho asks you. He slips his hand into yours.

You give him a little half-smile. “If he’s fire, you’re water.”

“Water usually beats fire,” Jinho says, sounding a bit comforted.

You squeeze his hand. “It’s not a competition.”

Because it isn’t. Seungcheol’s fire, as far as you could tell, burned deeper within him than the Marianna Trench, a terrifyingly powerful passion held in check by a man with enough kindness to keep it bubbling under the surface instead of spilling out onto everything around him. Jinho was more akin to swimming in the shallows. It was a comforting thing to be able to see his limits.

This is the first night that you kiss Jinho, post-breakup. The kiss is sugar-sweet, brief, and nervous — like you’re high school kids again. Your heart speeds up a little as your lips just brush.

And there is no fire to it at all.

***

You wake up the next day with a heaviness that seems to have burrowed its way into the marrow of your bones. It’s more emotional than physical, but the telltale ache of your body is enough to have you calling Minghao mid-morning. “I can’t come in,” you tell him. “I'm coming down with something.”

“Rest up,” he tells you, and you’re very grateful for him and how understanding he is as you end the call.

Your first thought would normally be to call Seungcheol, but you dial Jinho’s number instead. When he doesn’t answer — probably still asleep, you reason — you slump on your bed, exhausted and unable to do much else besides stare at the ceiling of your bedroom.

This kind of sickness is awful. It’s even more awful when you’re facing it alone — when there’s no one there that can warm up the cold inside you. You can’t even muster up energy to leave your bed. The thought of cooking something is laughable. The emptiness and silence of it all is paralyzing. You’re lucky — for you, this inconvenient reality of your mental illness is rare — but when it hits, it’s difficult to remember what the point is of anything.

Time crawls by like an inchworm across a vast, bare desert. If you had been able to feel anything at all, you know you’d be feeling acutely miserable. And still you lay there, uncomfortably warm in the light of day, still tangled in your blankets but unable to move them.

It’s a mystery to you how long you lay like this before a buzzing splits the silence. With tremendous effort, you grab your phone and look at the caller ID, expecting to see Jinho returning your call. But it’s Seungcheol.

“Hi,” he says once you’ve managed to answer it. “I haven’t heard from you today. You okay?”

“Hi,” you say in a flat, robotic tone, devoid of normal expression.

And in one word, Seungcheol knows.

“I’m coming over,” he says, and hangs up.

A little drop of emotion seems to spill from your otherwise empty cup — anxiety. Seungcheol knows that you have days where life is harder than others. He’s also never seen you this incapacitated by one of them. A little knot of panic starts to grow in your chest, amplified by the seemingly hours-long minutes it takes Seungcheol to get to you. But when you finally hear him at the door, he lets himself in.

He quietly makes his way back into your bedroom and sits at your bedside. “Hey, sweetheart,” he says softly.

You try to get your mouth to move — no dice. Instead, you just slightly turn your body to face him, trying your hardest to focus your gaze on him so he knows you heard him.

And Seungcheol leans down and scoops you up out of your blankets, lifting you easily from the bed and onto the couch. He doesn’t let you go, though, just keeps ahold of you. He holds you in a hug until the feeling starts to come back into your limbs and you’re able to reach your arms around him and cling on tight. And then he keeps you in his arms for several more minutes for good measure. You barely notice his sigh of relief and the way he relaxes into your grasp when you finally wrap your arms around him.

When he pulls away, you cringe. But he just pushes your hair off your face and looks you over, and the warmth of his hands on you soothes whatever raw part of yourself began to ache when he stopped holding you.

And he doesn’t ask you what happened, or try to make you explain anything. He just asks you if you’ve eaten.

“No,” you rasp. It’s the first word you’ve spoken since the phone call. And so Seungcheol makes you eggs. He watches like a hawk as you mechanically bring the fork to your mouth until the eggs are gone. And then he sits beside you, quietly reading, until the sun goes down and Jinho arrives.

By that time, you still feel lethargic and nowhere near normal, but you can stomach a conversation. Jinho puts his arms around you and holds you tight as Seungcheol slips out the door, and you nestle in close, trying to feel the same warmth you felt when it was your best friend holding you. “Bad day?” Jinho asks softly, pressing a kiss into your hair. And you laugh — because he’s not wrong. But how can you explain this?

Luckily he doesn’t ask you to. The two of you put on a comforting cartoon and cuddle on the couch all night. Jinho is asleep, holding you, before you can put together how he even knew something was wrong. And when you do put it together, it hits you like a gut punch. Because there’s no one else who knew.

Seungcheol has saved you once again.

***

Two months later

“You better not drop that,” Seungcheol warns Mingyu, who shoots you a longsuffering look as he carries in a sleek overhead lamp to go in Seungcheol’s office.

“Go easy on him! He managed the glassware really well!” you scold, hitting Seungcheol lightly on the sleeve. “And shouldn’t you be carrying something?”

“He said he’s supervising,” Wonwoo says owlishly, right on Mingyu’s tail with a small box of paperweights.

Seungcheol throws up his arms at the look you level at him. “I helped move all the heavy stuff,” he calls after Wonwoo, who’s disappearing up the stairs.

“So did Mingyu, but you don’t see him sitting around watching,” you tease with a smile.

Seungcheol rolls his eyes and heads for the door, stepping around Jinho, who’s bringing in the last of the paintings for the gallery wall in the library. “Need help?” you ask as he comes to you, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“No, that’s okay,” he says. “You should help Vernon, though. I’ve heard he’s struggling with the jerseys.”

So you head into the east wing of the house, which Seungcheol has converted into an entertainment center. There are working arcade games, a pool table, a foosball table, and a projector complete with a huge drop-down screen for movies. Seungcheol, ever the sports fanatic, has acquired three priceless signed jerseys: a Pedro Martinez-signed Mets jersey, a Michael Jordan-signed Bulls jersey, and a Steve Young-signed 49ers jersey. Vernon is positioned underneath the wall where the Jordan and Martinez jerseys are already hung, staring pensively.

“You needed help?”

“They’re too far apart,” Vernon says. “There’s no room for the last one.”

“How long did it take you to do this?” you ask tiredly.

“Like two hours,” he replies with a sigh.

So the two of you spend the rest of the afternoon taking down the jerseys and repositioning them. By the time you’re done, the rest of the house is practically finished. It’s amazing to see how much livelier it feels now that it’s not all empty white walls.

“We have less than two hours until the housewarming party,” you remind Seungcheol, who’s sitting on the entryway steps looking exhausted. “Don’t you need to change?”

“Have you picked out my outfit yet?” he asks as Jinho comes up behind you and slides a hand around your waist.

“I am nothing if not capable of meeting deadlines,” you remind him, squeezing Jinho’s hand and then beckoning Seungcheol up to his bedroom. Deftly, you lay his outfit out on his bed for him: a pair of light brown chinos, some black loafers, and a gift bag.

He raises his eyebrows. “What’s this?” he complains, but you can see a bit of his dimple and know he’s trying to hide a smile.

“Your housewarming present from me,” you tell him. “Now open it.”

He does — and reveals a soft black collared shirt. “This is nice,” he says, rubbing the material with his fingers.

“I made it,” you say.

“You did?” he asks, looking at you so quickly you think you hear his neck pop.

“By hand. With love,” you say, and open your arms to him.

He doesn’t hesitate to pull you in, wrapping you up in a squeeze. “It’s perfect,” he says into your hair. “Thanks.”

“And,” you say, pulling back before his closeness gives you goosebumps, “a finishing touch.” You hand him a small box. “From Jinho.”

Surprised, Seungcheol opens the box. Inside is a slim black watch. “Wow. I should go tell him thank you,” Seungcheol says.

“Yes, you should,” you agree. “And then you should shower.” You crinkle your nose, and Seungcheol scoffs before running downstairs to say thank you to Jinho for the help and the watch.

You don’t have a lot of time to get ready for the housewarming party, so you end up showering quickly and throwing your hair into a messy bun before putting on your nice clothes and running downstairs to the cab Jinho brought to pick you up. Together, you make the short drive to the house, where you can already see a small crowd of people standing in that beautiful entryway.

You grasp Jinho’s hand as the two of you walk in, greeting the friends you know and looking at the house with the renewed attention of people who aren’t trying to decorate it. It’s beautiful and cozy, with a natural, elevated style that suits the owner perfectly. Seungcheol’s house is full of earthy colors and calming textures, and you couldn’t be more proud.

As is so often the case in a crowd, you find yourself looking for the man of the hour — and your heart sinks as your eyes follow the errant sound of his laughter in the high-ceiling room. Seungcheol is standing with a beautiful woman, laughing heartily at something she said.

You knew he’d stopped seeing that pretty, knowledgeable sports reporter about two weeks after it started, but you hadn’t heard anything else about his love life since. You had a sense that Seungcheol tried to keep you separate from his romantic relationships, and so you didn’t want to pry. But surely he’d have said something to you if he really was seeing someone.

Someone calls your name, bringing you back to earth. “Minghao?” you say in disbelief.

“Hi,” Minghao says with a wave.

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

“Seungcheol invited me,” he says simply.

“Wow, that’s cool,” you say, still confused at the sight of your boss just hanging out with all your friends. “Minghao, this is Jinho. Jinho, meet Minghao — he’s my boss.”

They shake hands while you try to figure out why you didn’t introduce Jinho as your boyfriend. Minghao asks you if you’re excited for your award ceremony tomorrow night — turns out, one of your shoots won some kind of award.

“Kind of,” you reply. “I’m a little nervous.”

“Don’t be nervous,” Jinho says gently. “You deserve the award.”

You give his hand a squeeze, and then Seungcheol steps away from the woman (after giving her shoulder a squeeze, which makes you grit your teeth), and stands on one of the steps of the staircase to address the group.

“Thank you all for your help and for coming to this housewarming party. I wouldn’t have been able to make this move without lots of help, so I’m super grateful.” He looks right at you then, and you see that carefully caged fire beneath his brown eyes. You feel the rest of the world melt away as he continues. “I want this to be a place where you feel welcome. I want you to feel as comfortable here as you do in your own home. Please let this be the beginning of a tradition where you know you can show up on my porch at any time and there will be a warm greeting for you.”

Your heart is in your throat. The eye contact between you two seems to connect your souls, searing into you like a hot branding iron, marking you forever.

And then it passes, and you take a deep shuddering breath. Jinho looks at you in alarm. And Seungcheol finishes, “there are drinks and snacks — stay as long as you like.”

As everyone else mulls around the house, eating and drinking and laughing together, Seungcheol comes up to you and Jinho. "Thank you for your help," he says to Jinho, and his smile is genuine and kind. "I really couldn't have managed without you. The art is fantastic."

"Anytime," Jinho says, blushing. You grin at the sight of his shyness.

"I wanted to show you something," Seungcheol says, taking Jinho by the arm. "Do you mind?"

"Not at all," you say, waving them off. The two men disappear into the crowd, and you walk toward Mingyu, Wonwoo, and Vernon, who are all standing at the edge of the room laughing with each other. "Hey," you say, and Mingyu sweeps you into his side in a quick hug.

"Hi," they chorus together. "You cleaned up nice," Wonwoo says, pointing at your dress.

"Thanks!" you say, a little surprised. Wonwoo usually wasn't the most vocal in his appreciation, and the compliment melted you just a little.

"Seungcheol told him to say that," Vernon says, with the air of a toddler tattling on his brother.

Your heart warms at the thought. "Of course he did," you say. "He's entirely too good to me."

"Where is Jinho?" asks Mingyu.

"Seungcheol dragged him off somewhere," you say. "I don't know."

The three of you discuss the usual gossip -- the other boys' love lives -- all the way up until Seungcheol and Jinho find you again. Jinho looks a little rattled, but pulls it together when he sees you.

"Where did he take you?" you ask him.

"I'll tell you later." It came out in such a flat little voice that you know something is wrong, but you don't feel like you can ask him about it, so you just stay quiet.

And you feel such sweeping emptiness that you find yourself dissociating from the party. Seungcheol introduces you to his friends you didn’t know already, and even in your disconnected state you register the pretty woman’s name — Nikita. She is so nice to you, telling you how much she loves the decor in “Cheol’s” house.

It’s enough to send you home with a headache an hour and a half later.

***

It’s 8:45pm. Jinho left your award ceremony to go to the bathroom, and he still hasn’t come back.

Things have been weird since last night. You’re starting to get the feeling that Jinho notices how you’re affected by Seungcheol and isn’t happy about it. It makes you feel rubbed raw, like your whole body has carpet burn.

But now, you’re starting to panic. Jinho was the one who drove you downtown to this swanky party your company threw for you, and now you’re 45 minutes from home with just your phone — no wallet to pay for a cab if Jinho really did run off.

Your phone rings — it’s Jinho.

“Where are you?” you ask in a panic, your voice cracking with stress.

“I left,” Jinho says calmly. “I’m sorry. But I think there are some things you’ve been lying to me about. So for your own sake, and for my sanity, we can’t do this anymore.”

“Lying?” you say, choking around the word. “What do you mean?”

“Call Seungcheol. I bet he can explain it to you,” Jinho says harshly. And he hangs up.

The only reason why you don’t call Seungcheol immediately upon hearing the line go dead is because you’re in shock. You’d thought that the very real, very intensely powerful feelings you felt for Seungcheol wouldn’t get in the way of developing a new relationship — possibly hoping that any new feelings would push out the old ones.

But those old feelings had grown roots. And now they sat there, planted in your chest, too entangled with the person you are to be plucked out, and you’d been refusing to look at them, but now it was time. Jinho was right — you’d lied to him when you’d said there was nothing there. You’d lied to yourself for months, maybe years. The only person it seemed that you hadn’t lied to about it was Seungcheol himself, and that was simply because he’d never asked. If he’d asked, you would’ve lied to him too — lied until you were blue in the face, lied until you both believed it, because the truth would surely kill whatever good thing existed between the two of you.

The truth being, of course, that you are in love with Choi Seungcheol.

You’ve fought it so long it almost relieves you to say it, if only just to yourself. You’re in love with him, and you know now that no matter how much anyone else tries, you’re going to end up right back here, wanting him.

Your hands shake as you call him.

He answers on the second ring.

“Jinho left me at the party,” you say hazily. “I’m 45 minutes away and I don’t have my wallet. I’m — I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Seungcheol says. You can hear him moving around, probably looking for his coat and his keys, and then he says, “are you okay? Where are you right now?”

You look around. Unbeknownst to you, your feet carried you out of the event space and into the lobby area, where you’re alone. “I’m okay. I’m by myself. I'm still inside the venue.”

“Stay right there, and don’t move. I’m coming.”

You expect the time to crawl by as you wait for Seungcheol, a pit of dread building in your stomach, but before you know it, he’s walking in and scooping you into his arms. “I’m so sorry,” he says, and you don’t have the strength to resist melting into him. Unconsciously, you wrap your arms around his neck, burying your face in his chest.

“Don’t be sorry,” you whisper back. “I did this to myself.”

“There’s no good excuse for him to leave you here,” Seungcheol says sharply.

He takes you out to his car. The drive home is almost silent, as you let tears fall into your lap, staining your pink dress. When you finally get to your apartment, Seungcheol helps you inside before he turns to you, jaw clenched. “I ought to kill him,” he says in a low, dangerous voice.

“You don’t know —“ you start, but Seungcheol pulls away.

“No, I’m not going to hear this,” he says shortly. “All of our whole friendship, you’ve always accepted this kind of thing as inevitable. I have to know. Why do you do it?”

Seungcheol is angrier than you’ve ever seen him — brown eyes blazing, cheeks red and face heated. “I don’t understand.”

“What don’t you understand,” you ask in a flat little voice.

“I haven’t ever seen you be treated well in a relationship. And that’s not your fault, but I guess I don’t know why you stick around when time after time they make you miserable.” He pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “I watch them hurt you, over and over again. Why do you just take it? Why don’t you fight for yourself?”

“I — because of love?” you squeak. “Love means — love means you stay.”

And your heart breaks. Because every time someone else walked away from you, it reinforced the idea that you were uncared for. Because no matter how well the relationship started, it always ends up hurting you more than anyone. And because the only man who’s never hurt you is the one in front of you right now, and even if he did love you, you don’t trust that you could believe it.

He takes your face in his hands. “It’s not love. Love isn’t the thing that breaks your heart. At least, not when it’s healthy.” He brushes a tear off your face with his thumb. “Someone who truly loves you wouldn’t leave you behind like that.”

Maybe his fire lights some of yours too — because now, you’re angry. Angry enough to push his hands from your face, to turn away from those eyes that are so beseeching and so understanding and so right. “Are you the expert?” you ask him quietly, but your hands are shaking and your voice is lethal. “What do you really know about love?”

His jaw flexes — his eyes flash — he crosses his arms over his chest. “Everything I know about love,” he says with a barely contained voice, “I have learned from you.”

You have no words for this. So you stand, breathless, watching Seungcheol. Waiting.

He sighs. And then comes undone. The tears start to flow down his cheeks. But when you move toward him, he steps away. “I’ve loved you for so long it’s hard to imagine a time when I didn’t. When I try to find someone else, I end up falling in love with pieces of them that remind me of you. It’s unfair to them. I haven’t tried in awhile.”

He brushes his tears, then looks you in the eye. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. I’ll let you…I’ll give you some space.”

And with that, he leaves you alone in your apartment, wondering how small a human is capable of feeling.

***

The next few days are torturously slow. You’re icy cold and can’t seem to get warm no matter what you do. Seungcheol doesn’t reach out — and you know it’s because he’s trying to give you space — but you sort of hate not hearing from him, not knowing what’s going on. By day three, you’ve had enough. You call him.

And the look he gives you when he shows up on your doorstep a few minutes later is almost enough to make you abandon what you know you have to say. What all that time by yourself has taught you. What you've spent all your nights crying yourself to sleep over.

But still — Seungcheol holds you. He wraps you up in his arms, his broad hand stroking the back of your head, and you can feel his heart nearly leaping out of his chest.

“I love you,” you whisper.

He freezes. Pulls back, confused. “I love you,” you repeat, louder now.

“You do?” he asks. And he’s bewildered, but he also seems to sag in relief.

“Yes,” you say. “I don’t remember when it started. It doesn’t matter. All I know is I love you.”

And when he smiles at you, for the first time in days, you don’t feel that spine-tingling cold.

You take a deep breath.

“But I don’t think I’m in a good place for a relationship right now,” you say.

Seungcheol swallows. Hard.

“I know you don’t need to be perfect to be in a relationship,” you say. “And I’m not saying I don’t want to be with you. I’ve just learned that I don’t know how to open myself up to love. Real love. And … and if it’s you, I can’t risk it.” You take his face in your hands. “I want to be healthy. I don't want to ... depend on you so much that I lose myself, like I do with other people. I wouldn’t ask you to wait around until I’m ready,” you murmur. “So I understand if…you can’t, or won’t. But I need to figure out some things first.”

And Seungcheol wraps his arms around you once again. “You are choosing yourself this time,” he says. “And I’m proud of you.”

After a long while of holding each other, Seungcheol says, “Hear me out.”

You look at him. “What do you mean?”

“I got an offer. To help with the Olympics.”

Your jaw drops. “In France?”

He nods. “For four months.”

You wince as this sinks in. “You want to go, don’t you?”

“I really want to go,” he says. “And maybe…”

“That would give me time.” You don’t have to ask what he’s insinuating — you already know.

“I’m not giving you a deadline,” he says quickly. “If you’re still not…well, I was thinking we could just — just see where we’re at by then.”

You resist the urge to burst into tears, to throw yourself into his arms and beg him not to leave, and instead try to be logical about it. “A winter alone,” you muse. “Maybe it’ll be good for me.”

Seungcheol looks like he could kiss you. Instead, he squeezes you tightly. “If you need me — I mean, I’ll fly home in a second if you ask.”

And you know that he’s telling the truth, and you know that because of that, you’d never ask that of him. But you still say, “Deal.”

And then you spend the rest of the night sitting quietly, snuggled up with your best friend, determinedly not thinking about the moment you’ll need to let go.

***

Seungcheol leaves two days later.

He stops by before he heads to the airport. “Will you water my plants while I’m away?” he asks.

“Of course,” you promise.

He gives you one last searching look. “I’m not leaving you,” he reminds you.

“I know,” you say quickly.

“And you really can ask me to come back whenever you want,” he says.

“I know,” you say, finally cracking a smile. “Go live your dream. I’ll be here when you get back.”

The final hug, a sweeter-than-honey forehead kiss — promising more — and Seungcheol is gone.

You let yourself ache for him for a minute. And then you act.

You whip out your phone, dial a number.

“This is Rocky Heights Mental Wellness Clinic. How can I help?”

You smile at the chipper tone from the receptionist. “Hi,” you reply. “I’d like to set up a therapy appointment.”

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