#but we still really don’t know how it works or if it works on Remnant folk

[chlothequeen]

Okay but I’m so excited because like, if the next chapter deals with Neo, she isn’t going to be an issue anymore. Whether she comes to her senses about revenge or realizes she does not want to deal with Ruby when she isn’t holding back. And at a certain point, the Ever After is going to pick Ruby up and say “the only problems to solve right now are your own.”

[skbeaumont]

"You Should Probably Leave" | Joel x Reader oneshot

Part 1 of Play it Again, a new series where each story is a oneshot, but all are shaped around country songs.

Song: You Should Probably Leave – Chris Stapleton Summary: He works long days. You help out with Sarah, make her dinner, put her to bed when he has to stay late. And then when he gets home you help him out, too, even though you both know you should probably leave. Tags/Warnings: MDNI, 18+, smut, porn without plot, prose but kind of poetry/lyrical, sexual tension, PIV, oral (m! receiving), sub!Joel, you're Sarah's babysitter, AU! No outbreak, set in the 90s. Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: I've taken the lyrics and worked them into the story, so I'd really recommend listening as you read. I've been thinking about writing this series for sooo long because country songs + Joel is a match made in heaven. If you've got any song recommendations, let me know!

It’s like a dance, a well-worn routine that you both know, practised and perfected after months of repetitions. You both know where it leads but you’ll still follow all the steps. That’s how it is.

You put Sarah to bed ages ago, spent the last few hours of babysitting on the sofa finishing up some college work, waiting for Joel to get back. His key in the door is a familiar click, the latch sticking the way it always does, his shoulder forcing it open.

You stay where you are. When he comes into the lounge his toolbelt is still strapped around his waist, the remnants of a long day’s work painted across his handsome face and strewn in dust that’s collected on the knees of his well-worn jeans and callused hands.

He pauses in the entrance, arm stretched up above him to rest on the mantle of the door, t-shirt pulling up to reveal a strip of tanned skin above his belt. There’s a glass of wine half-drunk on the coffee table beside you and your feet are tucked up under you.

Neither of you speak for several long moments. You just watch each other, the tension too delicious to break.

“You should probably leave,” He says, but you make no effort to move and he stays where he is, too, dark eyes watching you.

His expression is open, taunting, and you already know what’s going to happen. You untuck your feet and shift them onto the worn carpet, standing to step towards him. His form takes up most of the doorway, his shoulders so broad that they almost touch both sides of the frame.

When you reach it he’s looming over you, blocking the exit off from you if you wanted to leave, but you don’t. You turn into him, press your nose to the slice of skin between his shoulder and neck and inhale deeply, smell the work of his day on him: the musk of sweat, the tang of iron and sharpness of wood shavings.

“I suppose it ain’t all that late,” he says, voice rumbling through his chest, “still time for you to finish your wine.”

You won’t finish the wine, but it’s all part of the well-worn routine the two of you have. He works long days. You help out with Sarah, make her dinner, put her to bed when he has to stay late.

And then when he gets home you help him out, too. Let him relieve some of the tension that he carries in his shoulders, on his thick-set jaw. You press the first kiss here, letting the rough caress of his stubble eat into your own cheek. When you let your hands course through his hair, scratching your nails into his scalp, he leans into it, eyebrows pitching up, something like a whimper falling from his lips.

There’s a devil on your shoulders, and its urging you each towards the same predetermined end.

“We shouldn’t.” He says, but he doesn’t move away.

“Just one kiss?” You ask, feeling him relax into your touch, the bulk of him slipping down the doorframe, bringing his mouth within reach of yours.

“Alright,” He rasps back, his voice pitching with need, and you claim the last syllable with your mouth, press your lips against his, pull a moan from somewhere deep in his chest.

“Say you want me to stay,” You tell him, and he does, whispers it into your mouth, chases your tongue with his.

When he looks at you his gaze so intense it’s almost intimidating, and you recognise the look in his eyes, the need that’s behind the blown-out pupils and hazy expression.

The slow retreat to his bedroom is well-practised, the carpet belying a well-trodden route you both know. He lets you walk him backwards up the stairs, sighs when you push him against the closed door to fit your mouths together again.

Inside, his bed is unmade and you press him into it, pin his hands above his head and lick a thick strip up his neck, following the tendons to the underside of his jaw.

His moans are the chorus of this well-rehearsed dance. They spur you on as you undress him, revealing the strong lines of his chest, the thick trunks of his thighs, the impressive bulge of his cock in his briefs, already half-hard.

He twitches in your hand when you draw him out and you shift down the bed to take him into your mouth, the head of him heavy and salty on your tongue. His cock swells, the vein that spans the underside pulsing against your palm.

It’s intoxicating and dizzying and familiar, the recognisable ache in your jaw as you take him into the back of your throat, fist gripping the part of him that won’t fit.

“So good to me, darlin’” He groans, running shaking fingers through your hair, trying to sit up against the headboard.

“Relax,” you tell him, pushing him back down to lie against the rumpled duvet, “I know what you need.”

You know him and he knows you, and you both know how this goes. You pull back, work your dress up over your head and pull down your panties, which are ruined with your slick, so damp they catch on your thighs as you peel them off. Joel’s eyes widen as he watches; he can never believe you want this – want him – as much as you do.

When you sink down on his length – the fat head of his cock catching at your entrance, making the stretch delicious and white-hot – he squeezes his eyes shut tight.

You run a finger along his eyebrows, coax him to open them and he does, a muscle in his jaw fluttering as you rise up and drag your cunt back down onto him again.

“I wanna do the right thing, baby,” he tells you, as though this – the pinching heat of him between your thighs, the tremble of his hands as he clutches at the flesh of your ass – isn’t the greatest thing that’s ever happened to either of you.

But you know he hates himself for it, hates that he’s a good decade older than you, that you’re Sarah’s babysitter, that this – this twisted arrangement you have where you stay when he gets back and then end up in his bed – is the only thing that gets him through those long works days sometimes.

“I know,” you say, “but it’s getting kind of hard to resist, isn’t it?”

“You should leave,” he says, thrusting up into you, “we should – Jesus, baby, just like that – we should stop.”

You arch up off the bed, tilting your hips so that he can drive his cock deeper, bottoming out and groaning brokenly into your ear. It’s filthy. Depraved, probably: The slap of his hips as he cants them up into yours, the breathy moans that tumble from your mouth, Joel’s desperate, needy curses.

It’s easy to make him come like this: Three steady, deliberate rolls of your hips and he’s a quivering mess beneath you, his hands fisting in the sheets as he spurts hot and wet inside you.

After, you tell him you should probably leave. He makes you come with his fingers first, tells you to finish your wine, that it still ain’t that late.

And when the sun’s on your skin at 6am, he’s there watching you sleep, hoping you’ll say you’ll stay, even though you should probably leave.

[s-4pphics]

A/N: me vs writing what i’m supposed to aka moth aka vampire possession aka anyway here’s post santa barbara angst don’t ask questions im not really sure LOL

“You’re back.” 

Determined hands freeze in the dirt, the freshly watered daisies glistening under the beaming sun rays. Your soiled fingers halt all movement at the soft acknowledgment from behind. A sigh leaves your lips. 

“… I am.” 

An exhausted one, and it’s not from your strenuous labor in the garden. Your body refuses to turn, but holes burn in your spine, leaving behind lasered streaks of green. 

“Can you look at me?” Ellie pleads gently. The softest you’ve heard her be in months. 

What she doesn’t know is that you’ve been back. For a week actually, hiding out in other people’s homes throughout Jackson, assisting in places where Ellie’s least likely to go. The garden in particular; Pollen makes her sneeze. 

Time is vital and interesting; Dina left her and Ellie’s farmhouse with her son when you fled Jackson. She sought you out, but you weren’t there. You spent most of your time alone, walking, running, killing what you had to. Searched for peace, internal and external. The sight of the waterfall was worth the months-long trip. Your home is different now. Eerily quiet. The kids you helped teached to read don't play outside or laugh as often anymore. You hardly see Tommy or Maria around. Jesse is dead. Joel is dead. Dina isolates with JJ. Hugs him like she’ll die if she lets go. 

Ellie’s forever changed. The town’s forever changed, and you’ve finally accepted that it’s for the worse. 

“Is listening not enough?” 

Cordiality is beyond you. Spite is evident. Even the flowers can feel it. 

You tried to be patient, to coddle, to mourn and aid and tend. Sacrifice your own wellbeing for the sake of hers. You tried, Dina tried, Tommy didn’t but he did at the same time. Oddly, destructively, but in his own way. You blame him and don’t. Hate him and don’t. He’s violently and permanently scorned, but so are you. So is Ellie. She says nothing from behind you. You rise with a pop in your knees and an upturned lip. 

When you face Ellie, your knees wobble. Scarred: emotionally, physically, mentally. Permanently. Her eyes are more breakable than glass, the shattered hand that displays defeat hid shamefully behind her back. But her cheeks are fuller, no longer the hollow vacancies they were before she left. Maria was always on her back about finishing her meals. 

Grief is complicated. Hurt. Anger. The flowers wilt. Listening isn’t enough, and neither is sacrifice.

Ellie’s nose always twitches when she thinks. Your heart gives a sporadic pulse, but not enough to revive the shell you're trapped in. 

“I don’t want an apology from you.” 

She shakes her head, “I know.” 

“Then why are we talking?” 

Another twitch of her nose. She searches for something. “I—“

But then she flinches away from you, a bent arm coming up to cover her nose and mouth when she sneezes. A painful jerk thrums through your chest, but still not enough. 

“Bless you.” 

One more sneeze, but softer. A bit squeaky. Remnant of when you first met her at 13 and she followed you out to the greenhouse to watch you water the orange trees. 

“Thanks.” 

You nod stiffly. When she doesn’t say anything, you move to leave. Your work is done and she knows you’re back; There’s no point in being alone with her. 

Ellie doesn’t follow, but she does speak. 

“I’m trying.” 

You pause, one foot in front of the other. A doe learning how to walk for the first time. 

“I’m trying to be normal. I’m trying to be okay but it’s not working.” Her voice trembles.

You weren’t expecting a confession. Normal. An interesting use of the word. No one feels that anymore. 

“It probably won’t for a long time.” You state, just as quietly as she, “But if you stop trying, you’ll rot from the inside. If that’s what you want, then fine. But if not… That's all you can do now.” 

“Will we ever be okay?” 

‘We’ means many. ‘We’ means two. Your back’s to Ellie, but you can see her. Unmoving, but frantic. Her mind cranks at a million miles a minute. You feel her eyes on you. Too familiar. 

You’re not sure how to answer, so you don’t. You take one last look at her before you walk away. 

Flowers never look the same the next day. 

[deathbecomesthem]

Who, Me?

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader - 2.3K

1996 Coffee House - Minors DNI, +18 ONLY

Summary: Eddie doesn't remember you, but he left a lasting impression back in the day. Like this? Go read @courtingchaos's line cook!Eddie and Crash Into Me by the ineffable @dr-aculaaa.

---

Eddie-fucking-Munson.

He hasn’t looked at you, not really. Not yet. You know it won’t matter when he does, he didn’t spend countless hours staring at the back of your head in the hallways of Hawkins High. He didn’t commit each freckle on your face to his memory. He didn’t buy your deodorant from the Woolworth’s in town just so he could put it on a pillow to bury his face in. 

That was you that did those things.

How long has it been? It’s the first thought that jumps to the front of your mind at the moment you lay your eyes on him. The thought, unbidden, is asked inside your mind before you even fully register who it is that you’re looking at right now. A ghost of your past? No, not a ghost, you can smell him - drugstore cologne and the memory of his last cigarette. 

Plus, the years are written on the fine lines of his face, you can see where they’re already beginning to sink into his skin. You can see the future grooves that will dance along his skin, the years painted across his visage. This is Eddie Munson, but with new additions. You can’t help but snort a laugh, forgetting for a moment that he’s actually standing on the other side of the counter from you. 

Eddie looks up, eyebrows pinched tight, the glasses that sit on his nose lift a little with the tightening of his features.

“What are you doing here?” You ask him, plainly. You ask him in the way you would ask someone you’ve seen every single day for the last 10 years of your life. In a way, you have. When you look in the mirror, you see the remnants of your only conversation with him. He is forever a part of you, even if you didn’t quite stick with him.

“Uh, hi? I’m, uh, I’m getting some coffee?” His response is a question, as it should be. At least he knows that whether he gets coffee from this establishment is up to the person standing behind the counter in front of him. You. He’s fully searching your face, and you catch a glint in his eye before he says, “Do we know each other?”

You turn your lips down into an exaggerated frown, “Oh, I am wounded by you,” you tell him, emphasizing a hint at who you are to him, “how sad to have been forgotten by you. You certainly left your mark on me.”

Behind Eddie’s round wire frames, his eyes widen comically, panic dancing across his features. You imagine he’s racking his brain for a memory, possibly a long forgotten one night stand or an acquaintance that he should remember but cannot recall. You pause, letting him exist in the panic for just a beat before setting his mind at ease.

“Oh, it’s ok, Eddie. Eddie Munson. From Hawkins, Indiana. It’s ok that you don’t remember little ole me, I wouldn’t remember me either.” You sigh dramatically and point to the chalkboard menu above your head while still keeping eye contact with the man, “What’s your fancy?”

He huffs out an answer that doesn’t surprise you at all, “large dead eye coffee. Please.” He bows his head a little and tries for a smile. He’s looking at you intensely, studying your features as you ring up his order on the cash register and then step over to the espresso machine on your right. You’re flying solo tonight. It’s Tuesday evening, and you simply cannot afford to staff the shop at these slow times. You’re the baker, opener, barista, and closer.

“Please tell me who you are. I’m going to lose sleep over this, Sweetheart.” His pleading eyes are only fuel on the fire. It’s too fun, having a little secret and being able to toy with the boy that you thought about while you laid awake every night of your 15th year. 

Eddie leans his elbows on the counter in front of you, cupping his face in his hands, “I can’t believe I would ever forget someone like you.”

“Oh, ho ho, that’s not going to work with me, Edward.” You’re laughing at him openly when you hand off the paper coffee cup to him. “We close in an hour. You’re the only customer I’ve had for a while, feel free to hang out until close.”

Eddie shakes his head slightly at your dismissal and heads to one of the small tables in the corner of the shop next to the big windows. You watch out of the corner of your eyes as he digs out charcoal pencils and a spiral bound sketchbook. An artist, of course.

1985, Sophomore Year:

You noticed him the first week of school. You kept on noticing him, more and more, after Dustin and Mike joined Hellfire. You sat at a table with your girlfriends every lunch period that had the perfect vantage point to watch him. He never saw you, and that was good, because the thought of ever having to speak with him back in those days made your stomach feel like it would drop out of the bottom of your feet.

It was a Tuesday, just like this one today, when it happened. You were late, Mrs. Cikra kept you back in AP English to discuss your entry for the Hawkins’ student poetry journal, The Spark. She���d written you a note, but the thought of Mr. Senica being annoyed with you skating into Physics after the bell made you hot with anxiety. 

You’re not running exactly, but your Chucks are squeaking with each purposeful step on the linoleum floor. It was the sharp turn just outside of the science labs, your final destination, when it happens. A mass of curls, arms, and legs collides with you. Two objects in kinetic motion smashed together. 

With no sense of his own size, and his mouth open in shock, Eddie Munson’s teeth sink into your forehead. The combined forces of your two moving bodies colliding was enough for you to need 6 stitches on your forehead. How Eddie walked away from that without a broken jaw was a medical miracle. He’s the more hard headed of the two of you, according to the school nurse. 

To this day, a perfectly captured set of Eddie’s Munsons teeth are scarred on the topmost part of your forehead, just below the hairline. You’ve made bangs a permanent hair feature, even though it’s not something someone would notice if they didn’t know to look for it. When you happen to see it, it still makes you smile. 

A decade later, your little high school crush still has his mark on you.

You let yourself get lost in those memories while you work through your routine. You put the soups away. You turn over the large coffee urns and drain them in the big sink in the kitchen, holding back a small carafe for Eddie, just in case. You clean the sandwich station. You start sweeping, putting up chairs on the opposite side of the dining room from where your only guest is still sitting.

You can feel eyes on you while you work. A delicious tension in the air of what would have otherwise been a boring and quiet Tuesday evening. He’s focused on you, and it’s a real thrill. You can’t wipe the smile off your face while you sweep up stray coffee stirrers from the island station by the front door.

“So,” Eddie says, loud enough to be heard across the room, “you’re from Hawkins, I take it. How did you end up here?”

“College. English degree. I started working here as a freshman and just stayed, ya know?” You look up and see that he’s nodding along with your words, probably trying to put this new information into the context of everything else he’s gleaned over the last hour. “I’m a poet, we do slams once a month.”

“Were you a poet when I knew you before?” He asks. A simple question, with no hope in helping him figure out the mystery that is you.

“Oh sure. I’ve been a poet since the first time I picked up a pen and put it to paper. But that’s not something you would have known about me.” 

Eddie’s mouth is sealed in a thin line of barely veiled frustration. “Ok, great. Fantastic. Can you please give me a hint, Sweetheart?”

You stop sweeping and look at Eddie. You tell him, “I mean, I’ve definitely given you a couple of good hints already, but ok.” You ignore his response, a scoff, and say, “I’m younger than you, by a lot. I was a sophomore when you were in your third senior year. We had mutual friends, though.”

That is true. You’d been good friends with Dustin Henderson and Will Byers since elementary school. A year older than them, but you had similar interests, especially with Will. After the earthquake, when things had started to get back to what qualifies as normal in Hawkins, you had been one of the first people Will had come out to. At that point, Eddie had graduated, though. As soon as Mr. Higgins set that paper diploma in his hand, Eddie made haste out of Hawkins. Of course he did, what had Hawkins been to him, other than an endless string of painful disappointments.

“What about you, Eddie. Where’ve you been all this time?” You’re standing still now with your chin resting on the top of your hands that are holding the top of the broom handle. He gestures widely, an invitation for you to join him at his small table for a chat. You consider, nod once, and lock the door before sweeping your way over to sit down.

“Don’t tell the boss I closed early,” you tell him and wink.

His smile draws you in, it brightens the dimly lit room. The lowlights of the shop cast shadows around his handsome features and you think you could look at him for hours. For the first time in 10 years, you think about what it would be like to kiss the soft skin on the inside corner of his espresso colored eyes.

“I’ve wandered,” he tells you as you take your seat, “a little of this, a little of that.” He leans in conspiratorially, “not all of my dealings have been exactly legal, ya know?”

Your giggle tells him that, yes, you do know. 

“Right, so I live over on Sherman. I fix bikes and teach guitar. At least for now, I’m skating by without having to punch in at a 9 to 5, which suits me.”

You scrunch your nose a little bit and say, “Yeah, but how’d you end up here? In this city?”

He looks down at his paper and you intuit the answer. “Ah, I see. Anyone I know? You still with the person in question?”

“Nah, but I like it here. She graduated and left, but I stayed,” he shrugs. Nothing more needs to be said, because of course you understand. This is a place for misfits, you should know, you’re one of them.

“'I can't believe you’ve been here this long and I’m only just now seeing you for the first time.” 

You’re both openly eyeing one another. It’s electric. Eyes scanning features, looking for anything that might give away something. 

“I can’t believe that such a pretty lady knows who I am, is from Hawkins, and is actually willing to talk to me.” Christ, how do you resist his face right now, even with all the cocky lady’s man mannerisms, he is charming.

“I still have hope in you, Eddie. You know who I am, you’ll figure it out,” you point directly to the fringe at your forehead and say, “if you think hard enough.” You smile, “that’s like the third very fucking obvious hint, by the way.”

He shakes his head and beams at you, “Fuck it. I don’t care who you are, mystery woman. Can I get your number? Let me take you out.”

“Me? Eddie Munson wants to take me out? Oh, I’d love that, truly. I’ve had a crush on you since I was 15,” Eddie breathes out a disbelieving snort, “I just need you to say my name.”

With that final declaration, you stand and start putting up the chairs at the table next to where Eddie is sitting. Eddie takes the hint and begins to put away his pencils and paper.

“I’ll be back tomorrow, and every day afterwards until I figure this out.” He says it as if it’s a threat. You giggle to yourself. Nothing would make you happier than having Eddie come by every day. You want to tell him that, but not yet. He needs to earn it.

He leaves you with a sheepish wave as he walks through the front door and into the warm fall evening. You turn the deadbolt and turn back to the now too quiet dining room and sigh. 

—

30 minutes later, as you're flicking down the row of light switches, you hear a noise at the window over by the table where Eddie had sat this evening. Tap, tap, tap. 

Eddie’s at the window. You see his eyes sparkling even from this distance. You see him breathe out, creating condensation on the glass. You see his finger moving, he’s writing something. You head over to see what it says.

It’s your name, written backwards for you to read. You lift your bangs up to show him your scar, and laugh as he does a small celebratory fist bump. You breathe onto the glass and write your number in the condensation, backwards of course, so he can write it down.

[trblsvt]

in this life | choi seungcheol

summary | honestly, you didn’t really care what choi seungcheol did anymore. but, when his mom called you saying there was an accident, you found yourself at the foot of his bed. genre | fluff, angst, hurt/comfort; exes!au warnings | swearing, mentions of hospitals, injuries from an accident (not life threatening), mentions of drinking, suggestive… for like a flashback, nudity (non-sexual and not descriptive), miscommunication possibly…, jealousy…, insecurities/self-doubt word count | 13.47k words pairing | choi seungcheol x fem!reader minli | lowercase intended i literally have nothing to say about this. sort of a monster to write. i had so many ideas for this, yet little brainpower to execute! it was a fun concept and the longest fic i’ve written for this blog… italics mean flashback or past event… update | i forgot a few things to tag under warnings, sorry :( they have been added

you were doing great, just great. it started raining when you left your umbrella back at your apartment. you were late to work, and you spilled your coffee on the way out of the door. things were great, and it had been seven months since you and your boyfriend called it quits.

you’d like to say it ended in a big blaze of glory, something movie-like, but it was just the opposite. you had sat down with seungcheol and told him that you were unhappy. he was always too busy and refused to make time for anything other than his work. as for you, well you were tired. when you told him, he sort of just looked at you blankly and just shrugged.

he fucking shrugged. great. so that was it. you just stared at him blankly. he wasn’t even going to put up a fight. two years down the drain.

“so that’s it?” you had asked before you left.

“yeah, i guess so,” he had replied.

and that’s how it ended, you packed up your stuff and went back to your apartment. you technically weren’t living with seungcheol, you still had your lease and whatever, but you spent a lot of time at seungcheol’s.

you finally made it to the office and clocked in. nothing important was going on today which was nice, but also this meant your day was going to be endlessly boring. at least it was friday. 

you sat down and logged into your computer. “shouldn’t you change your home screen?” a voice startled you out of your thoughts of the hours to come. you spun around in your chair and stared at your friend minjeong. you looked between her and your computer screen. you knew what she was talking about, but you decided to play dumb. “what are you talking about?” you asked. minjeong sort of glared at you.

“that’s from your vacation to jeju,” she frowned.

the same vacation seungcheol took you on.

“yeah, it’s a sunset for jeju. what about it?” you huffed. she didn’t respond, just gave you a look. you knew that look. it was the “i know better than you, why aren’t you listening to me?” look. “seungcheol isn’t even in this picture,” you defended your screensaver.

“but seungcheol was there. that’s a memory with seungcheol,” she countered. she was right. you probably should’ve changed it, but whether it was with seungcheol or not, it was a nice picture. “yeah, it is, but we’re on good terms so what’s the big deal?” you blurted out.

there was the “you’re such a liar” look. “really? when’s the last time you talked to seungcheol since you broke up?” she entertained you even though you both knew you hadn’t contacted seungcheol once since you broke up. “well, it’s not like i keep track or anything, that would be weird,” you brushed her off. you could practically hear her rolling her eyes. “seriously, ___, i don’t think this is healthy for you to still keep remnants of your relationship with him around. it’s going to prevent you from moving on,” she explained.

“i know, just- just give me a little time,” you sighed.

“time? it’s been seven months! how about we go out tonight? you can get your sights on some new man. i think i overheard that changkyun is going out tonight at that new bar.”

“now why would i be interested in where changkyun is going tonight?” you scoffed. minjeong had a theory that changkyun had been crushing on you since he first joined the company, but you were too “lovesick” with seungcheol to see. “he’s so into you! i’m not saying to marry the guy, just take your mind off seungcheol. it’s his loss anyway,” minjeong laughed. 

you wanted to believe that, you really did.

you had every intention of going out with minjeong, but the day was going on so momentously, you weren’t sure if you could stand up straight for another second. you both had to unexpectedly stay longer and work overtime, and it might have been the death of you. you heard minjeong’s cheery humming coming around the corner. “are you ready to get absolutely wasted?” she smiled.

“i was going for more of a buzzed thing,” you yawned.

“oh no, don’t do that. you get so quiet when you’re tired before you drink,” she whined. you looked at her, but she was right. you had about three different moods when you were drunk. one, loud. two, quiet. three, insane. and most of the time, the way you ended up correlated to how you were feeling before you drank. you couldn’t explain it, but it just happened.

you were about to offer a clever rebuttal when your phone started ringing. “one second,” you didn’t even bother to check the caller id. “hello?” you replied.

“ah, ___ thank you for answering,” a familiar voice floated through the phone. you paused. you pulled your phone away from your ear and looked at the name on the call.

mrs. choi.

“mrs. choi, hello, i wasn’t expecting you to call me,” you said almost breathlessly. you glanced over at minjeong and she stared at you, wide-eyed. “___, dear. i’m so glad you picked up. i need you to come over,” she sighed. she sounded tired like she had been crying. wait. she wanted you to come over? for what? “come over? what’s going on? is everyone okay?” you asked, logging off your computer and placing the few things you took out of your bag, back into the bag.

“i have hope that it will be. seungcheol was in a car accident.”

you apologized profusely to minjeong and left the office rushing to the seungcheol’s apartment. you knew the way to his apartment, to him, like the back of your hand. you punched the code in that bypassed the need to be buzzed in, and made your way to the elevator.

after you pressed the button to the fifth floor of the complex you felt your hands become inexplicably sweaty. why did you rush over here like a lovesick fool? you weren’t even dating him anymore. why did his mom call you? what was going on? the elevator dinged, alerting you that it was time to get out.

you made your way down to his apartment. 5-12. it looked the same since the last time you were there. you stared at the door. it had been so long since you had been there. your heart was beating so fast, you didn’t know what to do. so, you just knocked.

the door flew open almost instantly. “___, my dear, come in,” mrs. choi welcomed you warmly. you smiled and bowed slightly. when you stepped through the doorway your first instinct was to run away, but you couldn’t. you kicked your shoes off and followed mrs. choi in the direction of seungcheol’s bedroom.

she lightly grasped at your arm. “the car crash happened a couple days ago. we just got out of the hospital. he broke his right leg. it was jammed against the dash and steering wheel. he also has a bruised lung from the airbag, and a mild concussion from the collision,” she explained. you nodded. that sounded awful. where did he crash? did someone crash into him, or did he crash into someone else?

almost reading your mind, she added, “he didn’t hurt anyone else. it was raining the other day. it was dark and his car hydroplaned into a barrier. the cops thought it might’ve been a drunk driving incident since they found newly bought alcohol in the back of his car, but there wasn’t any in his system.”

you were still rendered speechless. seungcheol was the safest driver you knew. he always warned you about hydroplaning and what to do if it happened. why didn’t he do what he always told you?

you realized you were spaced out when mrs. choi rested a hand on your shoulder. “i was surprised that you didn’t come the other day, but seungcheol insisted that you were away on a trip of some sort. he didn’t want me to call you, but you’re his girlfriend! i had to tell you at some point, and you’re obviously back in town,” she exclaimed. “thank you so much for coming, ___. i don’t know where seungcheol would be without you.”

you’re his girlfriend.

what the fuck?

you certainly were not his girlfriend anymore. why did she think you were together? it had been seven months. mrs. choi was sharp, she wouldn’t accidentally slip and say you were his girlfriend unless that is if…

then it dawned on you. 

for whatever reason, seungcheol never told his mom the two of you broke up.

fuck.

seungcheol was sick. he was more than sick. he was hurt, physically. and his mom only wanted what was best for her son. she brought you here for something. you weren’t about to make this poor woman’s day worse by telling her you weren’t dating seungcheol anymore, so you played along. “yes, i just got back from a business trip. i always tell seungcheol to call me if something’s the matter. i’m so glad you called me, i wasn’t going to come over for another day or two because of his work schedule,” you pretended. she looked at you fondly. “i always knew you were a good one, ___,” she smiled. it pained you to lie to her, but it seemed like the best option for now.

“we just got back from the hospital a few hours ago. he’s all set up in there. i’m not sure if he’s awake now, but do you want to see him?” she asked. you nodded quietly. you didn’t know what you were going to do in front of seungcheol. you preferred not to think about it.

“before you go in, i have a large favor to ask you. i understand you’re a busy person, but if you could, oh my i feel so embarrassed to ask this. if you could stay with him for a while. take some time off and take care of him because i really cannot stay. my father is ill and i must return home to care for him,” she laughed bitterly. “i would stay, and i would never dream of dumping this sort of responsibility on just anyone, but you’re his girlfriend. not saying girlfriends and wives are only meant for taking care of husbands and boyfriends, but i know you care about seungcheol. i just thought it-”

“yes, i can do that,” you cut her off. why did you say that? “i can contact my manager and work remotely.” why do you keep saying things like this? suddenly mrs. choi’s arms were around you. “thank you, thank you, thank you, dear. i am so grateful for you, and i know my son is too. thank you! i must get going, but i already stocked the fridge. you can go in. once again, thank you so much. our family owes you so much,” she cried. you rubbed her back. “oh, don’t say that. you don’t owe me anything. i’m just happy he’s alright,” you whispered.

that was the first truthful thing you said in that entire interaction.

when you entered the room, mrs. choi accompanied you. seungcheol was awake. he stared longingly out the window on the opposite side of the room away from the door. “honey, there’s someone here to see you,” mrs. choi called gently. you wanted to hide, so you tried to. partially behind her and you looked over her shoulder. seungcheol tried to adjust himself and he slowly turned over to look at his mother. “mom, i really didn’t want to see anyone-” he began, but his eyes met yours and he froze.

“oh come on, darling, it’s ___. she’s agreed to help out some. she cares about you,” she cooed. seungcheol looked like a child who got caught going through the cookie jar.

due to the dim light, you couldn’t really see that well, but you noticed the large soft cast that he had on his right leg. it looked like he was having a hard time breathing, that was the bruised lung. he had some cuts on his face that had already scabbed over, but you noticed some dark spots on his pillow, maybe he had been picking at them. he had a habit of picking at his scabs.

but the most striking thing to you was how pale he was. he looked like a ghost, which was strange since seungcheol loved to go outside to read or watch people. what had changed since you left? you noticed a wheelchair and a pair of crutches.

“mom, i- why did you call, ___? i told you she was busy,” seungcheol asked weakly. before his mom could nag him, you decided that you could save this entire situation from becoming more awkward than it needed to be. “cheol, don’t you remember? i came back yesterday, but i knew you were going to be busy with work,” you forced a smile. you thought you were going to throw up his mother grinned and squeezed your hand. she made her way over to seungcheol’s closet and started rummaging through it looking for something.

you looked back at seungcheol and it looked like he might cry. his eyes yelled at you, what are you doing here?

if you were honest you weren’t sure.

you saw mrs. choi out while she continued to thank you profusely for looking about for seungcheol. “of course, no need to worry. seungcheol is safe with me,” you assured.

“what would i do without you, ___? i hope someday you can join the family officially. i mean you’ve been dating seungcheol for over two years now,” she grinned hugging you.

yeah, i did too, you thought.

she left and instructed you to just heat something up that she left in the fridge. you locked the door behind you and made your way into the kitchen. you pulled out a tray of noodles and plated them. she left you a few tips about seungcheol so you decided to look at it.

he has work off, so no need to worry about driving him to work. once he is better and the doctors clear his concussion can start working from home.

please make sure he is eating three meals a day. he’s been acting differently and hasn’t been eating as much.

for showers, there’s a cover for the cast because he can’t get it wet.  i set up a chair in his shower, so he should need minimal help in that area. maybe just changing.

pain medications are in the cabinet next to the fridge. dosage is two tablets every six hours. but, if he isn’t hurting that much give him one, or if he isn’t in any pain don’t worry about it. 

he has a doctor’s appointment in a couple of weeks to see how his leg is healing is progressing.

thank you so much <3 call me if you need anything

you frowned at the second one. not eating well? seungcheol always ate well. this seemed pretty manageable. you had already called your supervisor, who approved your request to work remotely. you did have to lie and say you were taking care of a family member, but otherwise, it was a mostly truthful story.

when you put the sheet down, the microwave had finished and you brought the plate into seungcheol’s room. he wasn’t looking in your direction, instead, he was looking out the window. “seungcheol, i brought you dinner. your mom made it,” you announced. no response. you huffed and looked around the room. you didn’t want to push him, but you needed him to eat. “i know you’re not sleeping. you’ll heal faster if you eat. your mom needs you to eat,” you continued. yet, to no avail, he still stared out the window, body closed off to you. you sighed, you wished it didn’t have to come to this. “seungcheol, i need you to eat. please, for me,” you pleaded. there was a slight shift, but still no response. “well, i’ll just leave it here, but eat it soon. it’ll get cold,” you sighed, placing the plate on the nightstand where he could reach it.

why did you sign up for this? it wasn’t like you owed him anything. why didn’t you just tell his mom you were broken up? so many questions were flooding your mind, so you almost missed his whispered question. “what, did you say? i’m sorry, i missed it,” you asked, turning around from the door.

“do you- do you have something to eat?” he asked, breath labored.

something in your heart stuttered.

you silently nodded.

“that’s good,” was all he said.

it was almost 9:00 pm. you had your plate of food, and you thought it would be best to run over to your apartment to pick up some clothes and belongings, especially since you were supposed to live here for a while. you would run in and check with seungcheol and let him know you were leaving and then you’d be back in thirty minutes.

you knocked on the door, but no response. you hoped that it wasn’t going to be like this for the rest of his recovery. “i’m coming in, seungcheol,” you called opening the door.

but when you entered you were met with an empty bed. your eyebrows furrowed. you noticed the empty plate of his dinner. then you noticed his wheelchair was gone, and the faint glow of light from under the bathroom door.

you didn’t hear the shower running, so maybe he was just using the bathroom. yet, something in your gut told you otherwise. you made your way over to the bathroom door and pressed your ear against it. you heard quiet sniffling.

oh.

“seungcheol? are you in there?” you asked. dumb question, but you didn’t know what else to lead with. no response. “seungcheol, are you okay?” obviously not. “seungcheol, if you don’t answer me, i’m coming in.”

“no, please. please don’t come in,” he responded finally. “i’m fine.”

“no you’re not. i can help, seungcheol. let me help. what’s going on?” you called. there was a hesitation before he spoke, “i- i don’t know how to do this.”

“what is this?” you asked again for clarification.

“cleaning. i don’t know to do it with this thing on my leg.” that made sense. you already knew he was going to need help with that. you just wished he would’ve come to you first. “can i come in?” you hoped he would say yes.

“no,” he said.

“why not?”

“i don’t want you to see me like this.”

“this isn’t the time to act modest. i’m here to help.” there was a deep sigh on the other side of the door. finally, you heard some shuffling and the door was open. you walked in and took in your surroundings. seungcheol was without a shirt and pants. he sat slumped in his wheelchair as he quickly tried to wipe his tears.  you saw some bruises that covered his abdomen. you also noticed how he looked skinnier. that must be why his mom wanted to make sure he was eating. the cover for his cast was sitting on the counter, so you grabbed it.

you knelt down next to him, he wasn’t looking at you. you looked into the shower and noticed the shower chair. “seungcheol, i’m gonna put a towel under you right now, so can you lift yourself up a little?” you said grabbing a towel to put onto the seat of the wheelchair. he did, and you tried your best to arrange it. “can you stand at all?” you asked. he huffed and pushed himself up, and used you as a brace. 

you guided him into his walk-in shower and helped him sit down. you paused and looked at him closely. he looked so tired, which was expected, but there was something else there. you just couldn’t put your finger on it. “i need you to take off your underwear, unless you want to shower in them,” you directed. he glared at you and mumbled something. “what was that?” you asked.

“i don’t-” he began.

“now is not the time to be modest,” you chided. 

“no! i don’t want you to see me like this! i don’t want you to see me all broken and bruised! it’s not right that my mother asked you to do this! just leave! i know you don’t want to be here, so just go. it’s already humiliating enough,” he heaved. you felt your jaw tighten and your fingers clawed at your sides. you didn’t want to respond to that, at least not at that moment. “take off your underwear, seungcheol,” you ordered, crossing your arms. he finally looked at you in your eyes, and he pushed his underwear off. you had to help him get it over his cast, but otherwise, it was seamless. next, you grabbed the cast cover which was essentially a glorified plastic bag, and slid it over his bandaged leg. 

seungcheol’s eyes were downcast again, and he refused to acknowledge you. his shower head was detachable and handheld, so you took it down and placed it closer to him. he still wasn’t looking at you. although you really needed to get some stuff from your apartment, you could stay. when you started rolling up your sleeves on your work blouse and slipping out of your house slippers, seungcheol stared at you incredulously. you stepped into the shower and turned on the water. you made sure the head was facing the ground as you waited for it to warm up. “what are you doing?” he asked. he almost sounded angry, but that could be addressed later. you snatched the washcloth that was hanging on a hook inside the shower and found his shampoo and conditioner. he leaned over and grabbed your wrist, it wasn’t harsh or forceful, just him. “what are you doing?” he repeated.

“taking care of you,” you said shortly. “now close your eyes. tell me if it’s too hot.” he released your wrist and there was that look again. you had to figure out what that was about. you raised the shower head and soaked his hair, and promptly began to lather his shampoo into his hair. he seemed to relax at that. you ran your hands through his hair like you used to. he liked it when you tugged at his strands. it brought him a comfort he couldn’t describe. yet, his hair was shorter now, not the longer strands that you were used to. you wondered what made him cut it, but you knew now wasn’t the time to ask about it. 

the rest of the shower went without any hitch. your hands running over the broad expanse of his back. something about that moment was so domestic, intimate, yet you knew you couldn’t have it the way you wanted it. the way you wanted him. so, you pushed it down, just like the way you did when you noticed him distancing himself from you and drowning himself in his work. 

you helped him get into some clean clothes and bed after he brushed his teeth and dried his body. after you brought him his pain medication with a glass of water to stick next to his bed, you were about to go out and run to your apartment. he saw you rustling around in your bag that you left in his room. “what are you doing?” he asked.

“looking for my keys,” you replied.

“why?”

“so i can go home and grab some things. i’ll be working from home, i mean, i’ll be working here while i help you.” god, why did you call his apartment home? it hadn’t been your home for so long. “i’ll be back soon. i’ll be quiet when i come back so just sleep.”

“no, don’t go.”

“pardon?”

“don’t go.” he stared at you like a petulant child. was this a symptom of a concussion? “seungcheol, i have to go get some of my things. i don’t really want to sleep in my work clothes,” you tried to reason with the pouting man. 

“you left some of your clothes. t-shirts and stuff. sweatpants. just wear that. it’s too late for you to leave now. it wouldn’t be safe,” he shrugged but winced. that was the bruised lung. you didn’t know you left your things over, if you did you would’ve made one more trip to pick them up. 

but…

seungcheol didn’t throw out the clothes you left behind. was he stashing them in case he had another girl come over that needed to borrow clothes? was he saving them for a special time to burn them? why did he keep your clothes? 

no matter, it was no use arguing with seungcheol, and you were tired. you hadn’t even had time to process the fact he had been in an accident, to begin with. “where?” you asked turning back around.

“in my closet, where your clothes usually are.” he looked at you like it was obvious. why would it be obvious? you wanted to scream. a normal person after a breakup usually burns the things their ex left behind, or they maybe just throw them out on the street. they don’t keep it in the same place in the closet. you breathed deeply to calm your mind. now was not the time to address the elephant in the room. “i’ll be getting a shower then,” you said, eyeing him suspiciously. he just nodded and turned to face the window. 

the shower was uneventful other than the thousands of thoughts flowing through your mind. you hoped that they would leave you and flow down the drain. when you finally got out of the shower, you realized you would have to walk through seungcheol’s bedroom to get to the couch. hopefully, he was knocked out. you slid on the clothes that you had left there. it was an old sweatshirt and pajama bottoms, but it would get the job done for the night. the smelled like they were cleaned with his detergent, and you weren’t sure if you loved it or if you wanted it off of your body forever. you tried the best you could to open the door as quietly as possible, and it seemed to work. you were basically out the door without seungcheol waking up or noticing you. that is until he did. “where are you going?” he asked. you hung your head, your hand leaving the doorknob. “to the couch,” you replied.

“why?”

now, there was something seriously wrong with him. you glanced around the room, searching for an answer. “because i’m going to sleep on the couch,” you scrutinized him a bit further. he stared at you with the same confusion. he seemingly picked up on the mutual tension and confusion in the air, “i’ll sleep on the couch, you sleep here,” he clarified. you choked on air. he must have more than a concussion, he had amnesia of some sort because you don’t just let your ex sleep in your bed, especially after you had been in a serious accident. 

you had to snap yourself out of the trance you were in before seungcheol could even attempt to get out of bed, which he was already in the process of trying. rushing over to him and pushing him back under the covers was more of a feat than you thought it was going to be. he seemed adamant about having you stay in his bed while he went to the couch. you were getting deja vu or something to the fights leading up to the end of your relationship. 

“no, i’ll take the couch,” he had insisted.

“no, this is your home and your bed. i’ll just stay on the couch since you don’t want me to go to my apartment,” you had refused. “talk in the morning?”

“yeah sure.”

“no, you’re the guest here, i’ll take the couch,” he shrugged, once again trying to push himself up. you placed a hand on his shoulder. “seungcheol, i wasn’t the one in a car accident,” you reasoned. “you won’t be comfortable on the couch.”

“just- just let me do something for you,” he muttered under his breath. you don’t think you were supposed to hear it, but you did. 

“the best thing you can do for me is to sleep in your own bed and heal.” his gaze lifted and looked at yours. he looked utterly exhausted, and to be honest, you probably looked the same. he inhaled deeply and sat back against his headrest in concession. you smiled at him and before you could stop yourself, you ran your hand through his hair which he happily accepted. “good night, seungcheol,” you said.

“good night,” he replied sounding more at ease. in another lifetime, there would be more to this than a simple good night, but in this lifetime it was different. so much different than you ever hoped for.

“i love you, cheol.”

“i love you too, ___.”

the crick in your back was going to be the death of you, but oh well, you already called into work and took the next week off before you started working remotely. minjeong was surprised that you even agreed to this in the first place. “___, he was an asshole to you,” she pointed out over the phone. you were currently lugging your stuff down the hall to seungcheol’s apartment, phone dangerously stuck between your shoulder and cheek. “he wasn’t an asshole,” you argued. for some reason, the need to defend seungcheol still ran through your veins. 

“he was, ___. he was,” minjeong sighed. you knew that she was right, but you needed to believe that the breakup was caused all just a big misunderstanding and move on. “i’ve got to go, minnie,” you sighed reaching seungcheol’s doorway.

“___, don’t- ugh, don’t do anything you’ll regret. he didn’t treat you right. he wasn’t toxic, but he was definitely neglectful to you,” she groaned.

“it’s not like i’m going to crawl back to him. i’m just helping him.”

“but why should you?”

seungcheol had some bad habits, and it didn’t always end up well for you.  

“cheol, what are you-” you were promptly cut off when seungcheol pressed his lips against yours with an energy that felt unfamiliar. it was just the average evening, so you didn’t understand why he was kissing you like that. not that he had to have a reason to kiss you, it’s just that it hadn’t happened in so long. you had been with him long enough to know how passionate he was about, well, everything. but, this felt different. not saying it was bad. you craved him being this close for weeks, and he was finally in your grasp.  his hands were planted firmly on your waist and he moved you to where he pleased. “come on, baby, just let me feel you,” he smiled against your lips. 

call you touch-starved (which you were), but you couldn’t help melting into him. this was the most attention you had felt from him in so long. “cheol, please,” you gasped as his lips traveled down your neck. he pulled you infinitely closer and you let him. yet, something was nagging at you. your stomach began to drop as his hands began to slide under your shirt. sinking suspicions started to bubble up through your heart. “cheol, kiss me,” you begged, not wanting your thoughts to be true. he hummed and obliged. he pressed his lips against yours in this new fervor. the heat between you was becoming unbearable as your suspicion was correct. 

beer.

the faint taste of it lingered on his tongue, and it made you want to throw up. for the first time in who knows how long, he touches you like he’s never done before but only because he’s intoxicated. great. you pushed him away. “did you drive home by yourself?” you asked gazing into his tired eyes. 

“no, i had joshua drop me off,” he murmured, hands still not leaving your skin, but that’s all you wanted him to do. just get off of me, is what you wanted to yell. how dare you come here drunk and treat me better than you ever have sober for the past months, is what you wanted to scream. “i think it’s time for you to go to bed, cheol,” you opted for instead. he shook his head still grasping at you. “don’t touch me anymore, seungcheol,” you hissed, swatting his hand away and pulling him to his bathroom.

she didn’t sound angry, just exasperated. she had a point. there was no reason why you should offer your help to him. seungcheol never made time for you when you were together, why were you making time for him yet again? it was major deja vu. “look, he wasn’t nice to me, yes. i hated him for a long time, maybe i still do. but, his mom called me, so i feel like i’m doing it for her. not for him,” you attempted to justify. minjeong scoffed. it was a deserved scoff, but it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. minjeong was there when things ended with seungcheol, so she would know the entire situation from the most unbiased, well sort of unbiased, outside position. she was your friend, and it was only natural for her to want to protect you. you couldn’t fault her for that. “i just want what’s best for you, and i’m not convinced helping him through recovery is the best plan,” she sighed.

“i know. you know he hurt me, i won’t let it happen again. i have no intention of getting back with him. you’re right. he was an asshole. i’ve got to go. talk later?” you asked carefully reaching for the spare set of keys his mom gave you.

“let me kick his ass if he hurts you again.”

“i will.”

“talk later! i’m going to miss you at work. love you!”

“love you too.”

after you successfully hung up without dropping your bags, phone, or keys, you opened the door to the kitchen light on. that’s weird. you were pretty sure you left it off when you went to get your stuff. you kicked off your shoes and made your way into to kitchen, your luggage bag dragging behind you. 

you were greeted by seungcheol attempting to push himself up from his wheelchair to wash some fruit in the sink. “seungcheol! what are you doing?” you rushed to his side. he glanced over his shoulder at you. he sort of gave you some dumb look like he didn’t know what was wrong. “you shouldn’t be pushing yourself like this,” you chided. “i can wash these. you need to go back to bed. you should rest.”

“i think i can handle washing some fruit,” he scoffed slumping down in a chair. you rolled your eyes. “it’s not about washing fruit, i know you’re perfectly capable of washing fruit. you were in a car accident a few days ago. you shouldn’t be pushing yourself to get up,” you explained. he just mumbled something under his breath and tried to maneuver his way out of the kitchen. you watched him carefully as he made his way back into his room, and you heard him sigh when he shut the door behind him. 

you had a sinking feeling that this was going to be a long recovery process, for the both of you.

it once again time for seungcheol to go to the doctor. the past few weeks had been back and forth to doctor’s appointments. his concussion was going down. to say things were going well would be a stretch. seungcheol barely spoke to you. you didn’t necessarily expect him to be buddy-buddy with you, but it was strange. he always tried to avoid looking at you. you weren’t sure what you did to deserve this treatment, after all, he was the one who broke up with you.

sleeping on the couch for the past weeks was not ideal. working from seungcheol’s home office was not ideal either. it was weird getting on video calls when you were so used to walking to meetings with minjeong. seungcheol tried his best to not disturb you, but sometimes he would knock on the door and sheepishly ask you for help with something.

the drive to the doctor’s and the check-up itself were uneventful. his leg was healing nicely, and they even decided it was time for a boot, which was great because you could tell he was getting sick of sitting down all the time. “well, mr. choi, it looks like your lung is looking a lot better based off of the scans, and according to your…” dr. hwang paused looking in your direction. seungcheol looked at you briefly like was afraid of what you were going to say. 

you weren’t necessarily worried about getting kicked out because you weren’t immediate family, but for some reason, you chose against saying you were his friend. “i’m his girlfriend,” you bit the bullet. you hoped it didn’t seem too unnatural when you said it. you saw seungcheol’s ears perk up, but he still didn’t address you. 

dr. hwang looked between the two of you seemingly wanting to say something but didn’t. “ah, i see. well you’ve been taking amazing care of mr. choi. according to your girlfriend, you seem to have an easier time breathing. she also said you’re reporting less pain in your head. this is good, since we usually expect swelling and inflammation from a concussion goes down pretty quickly. your concussion should be largely gone by next week, but i would advise against going back to work for some time. you can start walking on this as soon as you feel comfortable, until then use crutches. but, don’t drive until i give you the okay,” dr. hwang rambled, turning back to his computer. 

you could tell seungcheol was excited, maybe he was excited that you would be leaving soon. your stomach sank at the thought, but you didn’t know why. seungcheol barely spoke to you, he couldn’t even look you in the eye most of the time. so, why did you feel bad about the thought of leaving him? you were snapped out of your thoughts when you realized dr. hwang had asked you a question. “um, if you could give me a moment alone with mr. choi, that would be great. i can take him out front once we’re done,” dr. hwang fiddled with his pen as he addressed you. 

“yeah, of course. i’ll uh, i’ll just be in the waiting room. 

after what seemed like an eternity, the two of them came out. dr. hwang smiled at you, and seungcheol looked nervous, finally putting a little weight on his foot with the help of some crutches. “thank you so much, dr. hwang. you’ve been so helpful,” you smiled at him. dr. hwang reciprocated it and patted seungcheol on the back. “mr. choi, look out for yourself. i’ll see you in a few weeks,” he said. seungcheol nodded. 

the ride home was quiet, as always. by now you had grown used to it. when you arrived at seungcheol’s apartment and parked the car, he grabbed your hand before you could leave. “do you want to watch a movie tonight?” he asked. hold on, what? “we can order some take out or something.” maybe dr. hwang was wrong. maybe the swelling in his brain was actually worse. 

your lack of response must’ve freaked seungcheol out. “we don’t have to! i was just thinking it could be a celebratory thing,” he tried to backtrack. 

“no! i’d love- no, i mean, i’d like to watch a movie tonight. that would be nice,” you rushed to cut him off. your heart fluttered at the notion of watching a movie with seungcheol. maybe you could pretend just a little longer…

“what?” minjeong exclaimed. she was not happy with the current situation. 

“minnie, when he asked me if i wanted to watch a movie with him my heart fluttered. what’s wrong with me?” you cried, flopping against the couch, turning down the volume on speaker phone. seungcheol had left to get showered and changed. luckily, you didn’t have to help him much with that anymore. “you’re still in love with him, ___,” minjeong sighed. “i feared this would happen. you cannot let him get in your head! remember how he treated you before! just yesterday he wasn’t even speaking with you, he’s probably just manipulating you or something.” 

you couldn’t fathom him doing that. sure, he neglected you in your relationship, but he was never manipulative. “i don’t-” you began, but you were promptly cut off.

“you don’t get it, ___! you’re in a vulnerable state because you still love him and you’ve been waiting hand and foot to him, so he sees this as an opportunity to make something out of nothing.”

“if i love him, how is it nothing?”

“because you’re going to make it nothing. you can’t just let yourself fall back into his lap because he decided he wanted a movie night!”

“i don’t think it’s that easy.”

“you’re right, it’s not. that’s why you need to wrap up business there and get back to your life. your life where you can be free and meet whoever you want. where you don’t have to worry about the asshole who treated you like shit.”

“he didn’t treat me like shit.”

“he treated you like you barely even existed.”

you knew she wasn’t trying to be mean, but it did feel like she was opening an old wound. 

so much for that dinner you made. the time you wasted was eating at you as you picked through the remnants of your food. it was your first day off in a while and you hoped to spend some of it with your boyfriend before having to go back to work the next day.

 it was your bad to even think seungcheol would be home at the time he had said. you stared at seungcheol’s now cold meal. for the fifth time, you flipped your phone over to see what time it was. 11:47 pm and no word from him. you sighed and went to clear your plate. you wrapped up seungcheol’s meal and put it in the fridge. after all, he would be hungry when he got home. 

“hello? ___, are you still with me?” minjeong snapped you out of your thoughts.

“yeah, sorry,” you rushed out. “look, i think seungcheol is almost out of the shower. i’ve got to go. i’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“i’m sorry if i come off too cold.” she sounded like she was regretting what she said earlier. she knew how to read you like a book even if it was just over a phone call. “it’s alright. you’re my best friend, i know you wouldn’t do anything to intentionally hurt me. now, i have to go now, for real this time,” you chuckled and hung up after you said goodbye to her. 

you jumped a mile when you heard a clanking noise behind you. when you whipped around you saw seungcheol standing there, eyes wide, you felt something stir in your chest. he was leaning on a crutch with his leg wrapped in the bandages. he told dr. hwang that he wouldn’t wear the boot to bed. dr. hwang was reluctant but relented since the break was healing nicely and the boot wasn’t needed at night. his hair was damp, a plain white t-shirt clung to his body, and pajama pants hung loosely off his hips. something about this image looked so familiar, yet so distant.“sorry,” he mumbled leaning over to pick up the bowl he dropped, surprisingly it didn’t shatter on the hardwood floor. “no, wait, i’ll get it,” you said, pushing forward, frowning at the precarious nature of his stance. he straightened up and watched you pick up the bowl. “how long were you standing there? i could’ve helped,” you asked turning to go place the bowl in the sink.

“not long,” he rubbed the back of his neck, averting his eyes. “do you still want to watch a movie with me?” you nodded quietly and made your way to the couch. he followed behind and landed on the couch with a thud. “what do you want to watch?” you asked flipping the tv on.

“um, i’m not sure. i haven’t watched a lot of movies lately.” he shrugged. this was going to be harder than expected. instead of attempting to engage in this painful discussion, you opted to start scrolling through one of seungcheol’s million streaming apps. 

you scrolled through movie after movie with varying enthusiasm levels from seungcheol. “stop, let’s just watch this one,” he suddenly said. if you were being honest, you stopped paying attention to the movie titles a long time ago. so when you saw “the notebook” as the selected movie, your jaw slackened. “you want to watch this?” you asked, making sure he meant that. 

“i mean, i remembered when you showed me it, and i rewatched it recently. i really like it nowadays,” he said nonchalantly. you had shown him “the notebook” a long time ago. you had to beg him to watch it, and you remembered how he ended up crying by the conclusion. but now, it was strange to hear that he enjoyed the movie. not only that, but he remembered that you showed him the film. it was years ago, and he remembered. “okay, yeah, let’s watch it,” you said pressing play. 

you were getting major deja vu while you watched it. seungcheol was curled up next to you, and somehow you found yourself curled up next to him. this hardly happened when you were together, and it made your heart hurt that it was happening after you had broken up. was a car accident what you needed to be close to him? you didn’t need to think about it now, not when you could smell his shampoo and fabric softener. it was so familiar, but you knew you couldn’t get too comfortable. after all, you weren’t his anymore, and he wasn’t interested. yet, something was scratching at the back of your throat. an urge. a desire. a feeling you thought was better to push down.

 the movie was long over, but seungcheol had drifted off to sleep about twenty minutes before the movie ended. you didn’t have the heart to wake him, so you let him rest for a while before you lightly shook him awake. his eyes fluttered open and held your gaze with an expression you couldn’t pinpoint. “alright, sleeping beauty, time to get you into bed,” you smiled softly involuntarily running a hand through his hair. he seemingly leaned into your touch while looking around. “is the movie over? why didn’t you wake me?” he asked. you just shushed him quietly and helped him up. he held onto your shoulders and let you guide him to his bed. after a bit of work, you got him under the covers and on his pillow. when you moved to get up, his hand shot out and grasped your wrist. your neck whipped back at him. “what’s wrong?” you quizzed. 

“stay,” is all he said, eyes closing. 

you sighed. you couldn’t give in to him. you had set your boundaries, you were here to help that’s all. but, the longer you were with him, you realized the reasons why you hated him melted away within hours of being around him more. minjeong needed to be here to snap you out of it. “of course, he’s being nice to you now. don’t forget why you broke up in the first place,” she would’ve said. yet, she wasn’t here, and you were weak for him. as much as you would like to deny it, you knew you’d always crawl back to him. in this life and the next. 

there couldn’t be any harm in staying with him, right? it was just one night. he wouldn’t try anything. he wasn’t like that. he didn’t even feel that way for you anymore. he definitely didn’t seem too bothered when you gave in and slid under the covers with him. to your surprise when you started to situate yourself, you felt his arms wrap under your body and pull you to the opposite side of the bed. just like old times. he always insisted to sleep closest to the door. he had told you it was a win-win for the both of you. he could have the comfort of feeling like he was protecting you, and you got the nice view out of his window on the opposite side of the room. you assured him back then that you didn’t need protection, but you never fought with him to switch positions. 

you had grown used to his arm around your waist each night, and after you broke up you longed for his presence. you had cuddled your pillows and called minjeong. everything and anything to keep your mind off the empty space in your bed. so, now when you felt his arm wrap around you and his body pressed against yours, you froze. why did the thing you wanted for the past seven months cause you so much discomfort? being this close to him was like stepping into the salty waves at the beach with a cut you thought healed. your eyes began to sting, and you pleaded with your heart to not start shaking your body. you naturally moved closer to him when his grip became tighter around your waist, but your heart cried for the rest of the night.

when you woke up, you surprised yourself realizing you had a dreamless night. your chest hurt, but your eyes were dry. you turned over and noticed seungcheol’s side of the bed was empty. his boot was gone, so he must’ve put it on. you didn’t hear anything coming from the kitchen right outside the room, albeit his apartment was quite small and his living room was right there too. you slid on a hoodie and made your way out of his room to find where he went. maybe he was just as freaked out as you were, so maybe he just left to get some air. if you were him, you probably would’ve done to same. you wanted to kick yourself for falling into his lap again. maybe he regretted inviting you to stay, and now he was disgusted with himself for letting his ex sleep in the same bed as him again. your rational mind told you that wasn’t true. he wasn’t like that. yet, that’s what you told yourself when he show up late to numerous dates or just forget to message you. 

you heard quiet arguing as soon as you stepped out of his room. you looked down to the front door and saw seungcheol leaning against the doorframe. his body wedged between the door and doorframe, effectively blocking your view of who was there. you quietly shuffled forward, trying not to startle him. “i just don’t understand why you’re here?” seungcheol asked, almost sounding stern.

“i’m just dropping off some paperwork,” the person on the other side of the door said. the voice sounded familiar, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. “how’d you know where she was?” seungcheol grilled, sounding more frustrated with every passing second. 

“look, dude, i’m just here to drop off some stuff from work. minjeong told me,” the guy tried again to reason with seungcheol. you recognized seungcheol’s tone, he got like that whenever he was jealous, but you couldn’t fathom why he would be jealous. you looked past seungcheol and saw changkyun standing there with a case file in hand. “oh my god, seungcheol, stop it. this is changkyun from work,” you nudged seungcheol to the side trying not to surprise him, but you were still upset he was berating your work friend. 

“oh, hey, ___. minjeong sent me with these files. let me or minjeong know if you need anything else,” changkyun smiled at you. “i’ll let you go, you seem- um- preoccupied. but, we miss you at the office,” he glanced at seungcheol who was scowling at the ground. 

“yeah, sorry about that. thank you for bringing this around. this is super helpful. i was getting tired of reading pdfs,” you laughed. “i’ll see you later.” changkyun nodded and left without another word. you shut the door and brushed past seungcheol. you heard an audible huff behind you but ignored it. after you dropped off the case of files in the office, breakfast was seemingly the best option for you. 

seungcheol was already in the kitchen leaning against the fridge. it was highly inconvenient given you needed to get in there for some fruit. however, he wasn’t moving. “what are you doing?” you asked crossing your arms. he didn’t respond, just looking anywhere but at you. “what’s going on with you? what was with that attitude with changkyun?” you grilled, but you were only met with a scoff. now, that was weird. he sounded jealous, but there was nothing to be jealous of. “what’s wrong with you?” you frowned. 

“why does it matter?” he mocked. you squinted your eyes at him. compared to last night’s situation, this was an entirely different person. “why does it matter? it’s just weird that he’d show up here unannounced,” seungcheol shrugged. 

“he was here because minjeong sent him,” you stared him down.

“why couldn’t she come then? just seems like it’s a cover for him to see you. you didn’t tell me you were talking with someone else.”

“because i’m not talking to changkyun. i’m not talking to anyone. but, why does this matter so much to you? it’s not like he came in the house and started wrecking anything. he just dropped some stuff off.”

“we miss you at the office.”

“what?”

“that’s what he said.”

“i’m not following.” 

seungcheol sighed and pushed himself off the fridge and over to his chair, groaning and stretching his leg once he was sitting. “god, ___, don’t be blind. he’s obviously into you,” he laughed humorlessly. now you were even more confused. “so what if he is? i’m not,” you shrugged, opening the fridge to get your fruit and yogurt. 

“yeah, sure. whatever, that’s not the point,” seungcheol huffed again.

“then what is the point?” 

“that he tried to come here and flirt with you when i’m right here!” he finally snapped. “it’s embarrassing! he looked at me with all this pity when i opened the door. i don’t want his pity. then you come around the corner, and he’s smiling ear to ear.” seungcheol looked like he was about to cry. you wanted to say something, but all you could was look at him, confused. “you pity me too. everyone does!” he rambled. “it’s so humiliating. and, and, i’m sure that you’d be happier at the office where he is. he’s more handsome than i am, and i’m sure he’s smarter and kinder than me. you deserve to go out and just leave me here. you don’t even want to be here. i see the way you look at me. it’s not the same way i look at you, so i couldn’t possibly as you to stay. why don’t you just go date a guy like that? i’m sure he can treat you better than- than me.”

you stood there dumbfounded. your heart ached for seungcheol, but you couldn’t stop the boiling anger in your stomach. how could he possibly think so lowly of himself? did he not see how you were still so infatuated with him? did he not realize the reason why you hadn’t talked to anyone new was because of him? and for him to accuse you of pitying him, after all the care you put into helping him get better. to accuse you of not wanting to be there, with him. you wouldn’t haven’t been here if you didn’t care. you knew you cared too much for seungcheol, for someone who you knew didn’t even care about you. what made him any different from back when you were dating? 

“you’re so cruel,” you whispered, grabbing your food and heading to the office. 

there was radio silence for the next few hours. you would occasionally hear something, but seungcheol never knocked or tried to come in. the tip-toeing around each other was killing you. it felt awfully familiar to when seungcheol became distant from you before the two of you broke up. work was monotonous and nothing was holding your attention. all you could think about was what seungcheol said. you didn’t realize he felt that way about himself, or you for that matter. it hurt, and it hurt even more to wallow in it when he was right on the other side of the door. 

you couldn’t be the same person you were seven months ago. pushing down your concerns, hoping they would pass. they wouldn’t, you knew that, unless you talked to him. he would be getting better soon, and you could put this in the past. you could leave again once this was all over, never to look back. you couldn’t take another heartbreak because of him again. 

so your resolve broke and you pushed yourself out of the office chair and went to find seungcheol. 

he remembered the day you left like it was yesterday. he heard you gather some things from your room and left without another word. “yeah, i guess so,” he muttered to himself angrily. “you’re such an idiot,” he continued. he didn’t even understand why he said that to you. it was uncalled for, especially given you wanted to talk about your strained relationship. he knew he was distant, but he didn’t know what else to do. so, he pushed it down until he couldn’t take it anymore, well, until you couldn’t take it anymore. 

not having you around the apartment for the first few weeks felt like torture. he had drafted and re-written several messages to you and even considered calling, but he never pulled through with any of it. his mind was constantly unfocused on his work. the work he sacrificed everything for. the work he tried so hard to keep up to help you, help the both of you. he couldn’t bring himself to eat as much as he usually did, when the pit of his stomach was killing him from the inside out.

now that you were gone he constantly tried to take his mind off of you. he couldn’t let a breakup disorient him like this. he had broken up with other people before, but never like this. he couldn’t stop replaying everything that went wrong in his mind, everything he could’ve done to stop it. maybe if he put up a fight you would’ve stayed. but, he didn’t fight at all. he cowered at the suggestion of breaking up, and instead of facing it, he fled and accepted fate. waves of uncertainty lapped at his feet and eventually, the waters rose until it was unbearable. if you wanted to break up with him then that’s what would happen, no matter what ran through his mind and heart. 

no matter the fact he had a little velvet box in the bottom of his sock drawer. 

he was going to a party. he said he would buy alcohol, so he did. while he was driving he felt something shift within him. he thought about all the parties he had taken you to, and how all parties with you there were so much more bearable. all he could think about was how bored he would be. he loved his friends, but something was missing if you weren’t also there sharing a drink or discussion with him. yet, he let joshua convince him to come out. joshua had told him not to drown in any more work. joshua saw how the work was wearing down his friend, and he couldn’t take it anymore. so, seungcheol was going to a party he didn’t particularly want to attend, but he was getting there, even if he felt himself push the accelerator down more than he should.

but something stopped him from going to the party, and now he felt like he was floating above his body. he felt waves wash over him, and when they retreated he felt cold and vulnerable. he felt dazed and had a throbbing pain in his head, leg, and heart. he remembered the beating rain against his windshield and feeling the tires give out on him. he remembered your smile and your fingers running through his then-long hair. you told him everything was going to be alright, and he believed you. then, there was a rhythmic beeping next to him, some rustling by him, and your voice was gone. his head hurt too much, but he forced his eyes open.

in some sort of last-ditch effort of hope, he thought it could be you. you could be there fixing some magazines in the room or adjusting the blinds. yet, he opened his eyes and he didn’t see you there, just a nurse organizing some of the tubes next to him. seungcheol tried turning his head around, groaning. the nurse noticed and left to go get someone. maybe it could be you. no, that wouldn’t make sense. it couldn’t be you, and it wasn’t. it was his mother. she cried and asked him if he was alright. she asked where you were and what he was doing, but he didn’t have a good response to any of her questions. when she started to pry about you, he realized he had forgotten to mention the fact you were broken up. she had called soon after it ended because it was time for her to call her son, but he went into auto-pilot and told her you were fine, and he just never got around to telling her the truth. she loved you, and he knew that.

he definitely couldn’t do it then. it would break her, just like it broke him.

when he saw you standing at the door behind his mother, he wanted to burst into tears, but it would probably hurt his lung. besides, he didn’t need you to see how broken up about it he was. everything hurt, but it only hurt more when he saw you. you looked gorgeous, and your voice was like music to his ears. what if you had a boyfriend? the thought flashed through his mind. any person would be lucky to date you, but the idea caused his stomach to roll. 

your hair looked so pretty too, but your clothes looked like a mess. he hoped he didn’t cause you too much worry.  yet, he was worried now. his lie was going to be exposed. he saw the way you looked at him, helpless and injured. you wouldn’t spare him, not after what he did. his mom was talking to you just like everything was normal, but he saw the look on your face. you were confused and probably angry. he knew you, and he knew you would correct his mom as soon as you could. so when she backed away and went to get something from the closet, he couldn’t tell what you were thinking, and that scared him. 

the last thing he expected was for you to agree and help. he also expected you to correct his mother when she went on and on about how you were his girlfriend and how she knew how much you loved each other. he could sense your discomfort anytime he was around, so he made himself scarce and tried not to be a bother. what you were doing was already such a help to him, and he had no idea how he was ever going to repay you. 

he recalled when you pushed him around in his wheelchair at the supermarket, and all he wanted to do was disappear. it was his first visit to the store for a while, and there was something especially embarrassing about having your ex push you around the market, even if they didn’t know he had broken your heart. he didn’t know why he agreed to come. he would feel your hands brush past his shoulders as you would reach to grab something before dropping it in the shopping basket sitting in his lap. the tiny bit of contact from you had him going insane. he wanted to apologize for having you here, for his mom calling, for lying, for breaking your heart. he was scared, that if he opened his mouth, his heart would betray him and he’d say something that would make you run away again. but, he knew it wasn’t the time for that, so whenever your fingers graze his shoulder he swallowed whatever apology or confession (whichever came out first) down until it reached the bottom of his heart. 

you were wheeling him past the bakery and he saw the sweet milk bread he would always get as a treat on weekends. maybe you could share it again like you used to, but he doubted it. though, before he could process it, he was clearing his throat. you paused and he sensed you looking at him. “uh-,” he paused, coughing. “can, can we get the milk bread over there?” he asked. you looked around to where he was motioning. you saw it. he felt you pause. maybe he shouldn’t have asked. “it’s no big deal, actually. it was a dumb request. never-” he rambled but all of a sudden your hands brushed over his shoulders and you walked over to the table where the freshly baked bread was packaged. you inspected one and brought it back, placing it gently on the top of seungcheol’s basket. “do you need anything else?” you asked, quietly standing behind him again. he shook his head. 

for the first few weeks, it was awkward and humiliating. he couldn’t bear you at his beck and call. he could barely even talk to you, too embarrassed. he needed to get out of the wheelchair as soon as possible. he willed his body to heal faster, so then maybe the pain that festered in his chest would go away. one night, he woke up and he was parched. he had run out of water, he must’ve forgotten to get more before he went to bed. he also noticed his stomach was growling. he had refused to eat anything for dinner. once again, his bad. it reminded him of the time when he would come home late to a dark home. he was starving, but he knew you had eaten. you had long gone to bed, but he smelled the food you cooked. he looked in the fridge and saw his helping there. he sighed. he knew it was your day off that day, but he couldn’t seem to draw himself away from his work. got too distracted.

so, he needed water and food, but to get there he would have to get out of his room and into the kitchen. specifically, he needed to get past you on the couch without waking you. pushing himself out of bed, he reached for his crutches. he got them secured under his arms and made his way out of his open door. you had insisted on keeping it open, so you could hear him if he needed anything. but, he saw the way you walked into his room deflated, leaving his dinner on his bedside table, cleaning the barely touched food an hour later, and retreating to the couch to sleep after a presumably hard day at work. he wouldn’t be able to bear it if he woke you up now. 

he stepped as lightly as he could given his situation, but you were out like a light. he contained a chuckle seeing you all curled up on his couch. though, he did feel bad. the couch was no place to sleep for a long time. if only he could share his bed with you and not make it weird… he quietly ate a protein bar and got a glass of milk. he watched from the kitchen how smooth your breathing was. he frowned when you began to toss and turn. he wiped his mouth and moved over to you. after resting his crutches on the floor, he sat on the ottoman in from of the couch, closest to your head. he leaned forward and watched your troubled expression. sometimes he would press a kiss on your forehead, but that would be entirely inappropriate. yet, he couldn’t do anything while he watched this perfect person in front of him suffer.

so, his hand was reaching forward and caressing your cheek before he knew it. your skin felt amazing under his fingertips. he missed holding your hand, hugging you from behind, and kissing your lips. he wondered how he could’ve messed up this horribly. he felt your breath even out, and he noticed how your brow un-furrowed. gently pulling back his hand, he smiled and made his way back to his room. it was only then after he crossed the doorway, he realized what he had done. the clear boundary he had tried to maintain melted within those twenty minutes of him getting a midnight snack. he didn’t deserve the treatment he was getting from you. he wished you would yell and scream at him for what he did. resentment. he yearned for you to resent him, but no, you had to come and be the amazing person you were. he couldn’t let himself feel this close to you again.

but, he broke his promise. just like he always did. he invited you to sleep in his bed after a movie night he suggested. after offering, he realized he probably shouldn’t have offered the movie in the first place, but hindsight is 20-20. it felt too inappropriate, unspeakable even. especially, after he caught what minjeong was saying to you before you turned on the movie. he shouldn’t have eavesdropped, but minjeong was yelling on the other side of the phone and no matter how much you could turned down the volume, he still would’ve heard it. 

“he treated you like you barely even existed,” minjeong had said.

now, he didn’t want to believe that, but he knew it was true. working longer hours, barely seeing you, and coming home at odd hours of the night were all factors which were purely his fault. he could’ve requested time off, but he didn’t. it was his ambition that blinded him. the thought that if he worked hard enough now, he could be with you more later. but, he had forgotten he wasn’t the only person in the equation, and you only had so much patience. the patience he had wrongfully wasted. 

your back was turned to him. he didn’t know why it hurt so much given the situation. being face-to-face in bed would be too intimate. too dangerous. yet, that’s all he wanted. he longed to feel your body next to his, to know that what was once shared between you was still there. so, he took a risk. he reached forward and pressed his chest against your back, his arm wrapped securely around your waist. 

he waited and waited for you to pull away, and much to his surprise, you never did. you stayed in his arms like old times, but he knew it couldn’t be like that. he didn’t know if he could ever have you like this again. the recovery period of you taking care of him was painful on a multitude of levels. he was giving you space since he already felt like a burden, and it appeared to him like he was the plague. it was for the best, but he still wanted to hold you and kiss you to show his thanks. all he could do was say thank you and quietly retreat back into his mind. so, he held you like it was the last time, which it likely was, and he fell into a deeper, quieter sleep for the first time in weeks. the waves retreated and did not come back for the rest of the night. 

who was this guy standing at his door? why were you smiling so widely at this guy? why was this guy smiling so widely back at you? did he just sleep in the same bed with you when you had a boyfriend? so many questions, and so little patience left on his end. this guy was so handsome, with a sharp nose and intense eyes. he could see how you could go to someone like that, someone completely opposite of him. any hope of last night not being a one-off thing leaving his mind. the guy glanced over at him and gave him a look he was all too familiar with. the old ladies at the supermarket gave him this look. his mother gave him this look. even you sometimes. he was broken and mangled and people loved to look. so, to hide their nosiness, they concealed it with concern and pity. he hated that. sometimes you would do it, and he wanted to rip his hair out. he hated it when you would generate idle conversation or say his name like some sort of swear word. what ever happened to being your cheol? 

the doubt came flooding back into his mind, and he was lost in the sea of his own thoughts again. the waves were back, and he didn’t know how to keep them at bay. the tide was coming in stronger, and he could feel every brick he had built crumble under the pressure. when could this conversation be over?

he didn’t mean to lash out at you and your work friend. it was the waves. the waves that splashed into his face. the water that fell into his throat and choked him. he had to spit it out or it was going to drown him. every little thing he had hidden away came out. the confessions, insecurities, and everything else that held him back now and back then. he just needed to get it out before the waves came crashing in on him again when you would inevitably leave. 

“you’re so cruel,” you had said, and you were right. he was. how could he be so cruel to one of the only people who ever showed him unconditional kindness? it was over, and he knew it. 

all of his memories felt disjointed. almost as if someone had glued them together into a scrapbook. you were trying so hard to follow what he was telling you. the entire time he refused to look at you. his hands were clasped together, face flushed. “i suppose that was a long winded way to say i’m sorry,” he said finally looking at you for the first time. “i’m sorry for treating you so horribly when we were together, and even now. i’m sorry for standing you up and coming home drunk. you’re right, i am cruel, and i will never forgive myself for how i treated you,” he sighed, rubbing his eyes. 

you knew he had problems with anxiety and doubt, but you never thought it was this bad. you were mad at him, but you wished he had told you. told you about how he felt like he was drowning everywhere he went. “seungcheol, i-” you began but he cut you off.

“i understand if you want to leave. i can just have joshua take me to physical therapy and my appointments. i’ve asked you to stay for too long. it wasn’t right of me. if anything, i owe you so much. you shouldn’t have to be forced to be anywhere you don’t want to be,” he said. 

you stared at him. you had never seen him so defeated. when you came to talk to him, you didn’t expect him to be the one prepared with an apology. you just wanted to talk, but now that you began piecing together the things he told you. you realized how much he did care. he saw the food you made for him. he saw the effort you put in. for some reason, that just made you feel a little better. you always felt like he didn’t see you, but he did. this entire time. “what if i want to be here?” you asked, meeting his gaze. his eyes flickered between your eyes and your lips. “then, i would ask you to stay. i would promise to treat you the way you deserve. i would make every wrong i made right with you,” he confessed, moving closer to you on the couch. he reached forward and grabbed your hand. “i'm sorry for being such an asshole to you. i would apologize every second of every day.anything to get you to trust me again,” he continued. “anything so i can be yours.”

your heart felt full. it was healing. for some reason, you believed him. minjeong would probably yell at you for “falling for his trap,” but you had a feeling he was telling the truth, that he wasn’t going to mess it up again. “then, let’s start over,” you smiled, eyes welling up. he lifted a hand and gently wiped the tears that threatened to fall with his thumb. “gladly,” he smiled. you pulled your hand away from the one he was grasping at, and extended it to him. “i’m ___, nice to meet you,” you smiled. he grinned, glancing between your face and your outstretched hand. “nice to meet you too. i’m seungcheol,” he said clasping your hands together. he felt the waves were receding, and by the look on your face, you felt it too. 

you were out shopping for what felt like the fourth time this week. you just kept forgetting something on your list that honestly couldn’t wait until the next week. then your phone began to ring. you slid it out of your pocket and answered it. “what am i forgetting?” you asked as soon as the line connected. 

“nothing, i was just wondering if you could get some milk bread,” the voice on the other side of the phone asked. you laughed quietly to yourself. “what’s the occasion?” you joked.

“it’s the weekend, and i love you,” seungcheol said. you felt your heart soar. you sighed happily and made your way over to the milk bread. you were still on the line with him, and you could hear him humming. maybe now was the time you brought it up. “so, you want the same kind from the bakery, right?” you asked, stalling. 

“of course,” he scoffed. “the fresh ones from the bakery are obviously superior to the ones that one brand makes.” it was funny since he said it like it was obvious. you hummed and placed one of the loaves in your cart. “is there anything else?” you asked. you heard seungcheol shifting around. “nope, that should be all for me,” he replied. 

“everything i’m getting is for you,” you rolled your eyes. he chuckled. you continued to chat with him as you walked through the store, picking up a few leftover things. you decided it would be a good time to end the call when you got to the register, but not before you brought it up. “look, cheol, i’m at the register, so i’ll have to go,” you said, getting in line. 

“oh, okay, sounds good. i’ll see you at home?” he asked to confirm.

“yes, after i get back, though, can we talk about that red velvet box in your sock drawer?” you smirked. 

“yeah, sure of co- wait! how do you know about that?” seungcheol took a second to process what you had told him. he sounded frantic on the other side of the phone, and it made you laugh. “oh, looks like the line is moving, i’ve got to go! we’ll talk more when i get back, right?” you smiled.

“yes, for sure, yes! we will be talking because you weren’t supposed to see that!” seungcheol exclaimed. “see you soon, i love you, ___.”

“i love you too, cheol,” you replied easily. because, in this life, you loved him, and he loved you back.  

minli | sort of proofread! working on it… i think the plot makes sense… right… please say it does. this has sort of been my child for the past month or so… i actually used the max amount of pictures in this LOL ASLDKJ. please leave some feedback if you want :) likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated :)

tagging | @a-wandering-stay @cinnamoroxie @wonwoosthetic

[kingofbodyrolls]

End of the World (m) | myg | teaser

→ Summary: Your government has been telling you to prepare for war, just as a precaution given the recent political changes around your country. Did you listen and prepare? No. Are you paying the price now, friends all but gone, and your city burned to pieces? Yes. Survival instincts kicking in, you search for a place to rest, nourish your battered and hungry body, only to find yourself at the porch of a stranger. Will he help you, or leave you to your own demise?  → Pairing: Yoongi x reader (female) → Genres/AUs: science fiction, apocalyptic, survival, co-dependency to stay alive + heavy angst, fluff and smut. → Tropes: strangers to lovers, forced proximity (because love that shit) → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: still writing (approx 10-20k) it’s a one-shot! → Author’s note: hiya. I’m currently writing this apocalyptic story with Yoongi, because… well. I’m fucking scared. So this is me working through and with my fear for something that I’m afraid is actually going to happen. We don’t need to talk about it, because a lot of bad shit is happening all over the world 😭 This is purely a story, though made up by my fears, yeah. Anyway, it’s okay if you’re not into it! The vibe for it is like The Last of Us and maybe a bit Fallout, I think if you enjoy that type of stuff, you’ll enjoy this one too. But it’s really heavy, but there’s a decent amount of fluff to balance it out, because, it’s still a fanfiction and it wouldn’t be that without some good old fluff and smut 🥰

You know you must move, but before you leave, there’s a promise to fulfill for Yuri.

You relieve yourself and step back onto the road, eyes fixed on the distant horizon that seems miraculously untouched by the ravages of war. That glimmer of hope pulls you forward. You have to reach it. No matter the distance, no matter the obstacles, you must get there. 

It’s your only chance.

You walk and walk—days blur into weeks. Your clothes hang off your frame, tattered and too big. Bombings have become a constant backdrop, each explosion a distant rumble you barely acknowledge. The earth’s violent shudders no longer faze you. Hunger gnaws at you, a relentless companion, its grip tightening until you can’t even remember your last meal. Water, your only steadfast ally, has kept you moving; without it, you’d have long since fallen.

You trudge along the desolate highway, the city a distant speck on the horizon behind you. You have no sense of how far you’ve traveled, only that the remnants of your home have shrunk to a mere dot in your vision. The road stretches endlessly ahead, a bleak reminder of the ground yet to cover.

Dizziness is your constant companion now, your throat as parched as the Sahara despite your efforts to hydrate. Water is scarce, and you’ve been rationing it for days. Hope feels like a distant memory, and though the elusive horizon you’ve been chasing for weeks appears closer, it still seems maddeningly out of reach.

Your body feels like lead, your feet swollen and throbbing with every step. 

Sleep is a distant memory, haunted away by visions of blood-streaked faces, final breaths, and echoing cries. Bloodshot eyes and a disheveled appearance mark your struggle; you’re still in your tattered nightdress, stained with blood and reeking of fear and sweat. 

No food, no shower, just the relentless march through this wasteland.

You’ve lost track of time—is it still September? 

The biting cold cuts through you, your torn and ruined shoes barely offering any protection. You trudge onward, desperate to find shelter, weary of hiding in the bushes from strangers who might wish you harm. Paranoia grips you; every rustle in the distance, every shadow makes you jump. Trust is a luxury you can’t afford. You feel like you’re unraveling, teetering on the edge of sanity.

When your eyes land on a solitary house down a side street off the main road, you can hardly believe it. You’re nowhere near your end goal, the neighboring city, yet here it is—a lonesome house in the middle of fucking nowhere. You chuckle, convinced you’ve lost your mind. Why would there be a house out here, untouched by the chaos? You blink repeatedly, but the house remains. Your feet carry you forward, despite your spinning head and the jumbled mess of thoughts in your mind.

The house, partially concealed by tall trees and lush bushes miraculously untouched by the war, seems like a relic from a forgotten world. An old jeep, battered but intact, sits beside the porch with its white picket fence. You approach cautiously, every step feeling surreal, and lift your hand to knock. Your bloody knuckles leave crimson smears on the pristine white door, a stark reminder of the nightmare you can’t escape.

You lose track of time standing there, every second stretching into an eternity, before the door is abruptly ripped open. You find yourself staring down the barrel of a rifle.

“Who are you?” a male voice demands, harsh and suspicious, but the words barely register. Your vision blurs, darkness encroaching, and the last thing you feel is the hard impact of the porch floorboards against your head as you collapse.

→ Do you want to join Yoongi on a quest for survival as the world crumbles around you? Let me know and I’ll tag you when it drops 💜

Also please let me know if you’re interested, excited about it— otherwise I’m probably just gonna post it on my ao3 only, lol. I’m scared 🫣

Read the second teaser + book cover [here]!

It's been posted!!!!

[puppetwoman17]

I wonder what the batfam's reactions would be if the joker escapes wherever they sent him to, finds Tim on patrol and was like "Long time no see JJ," and then going on about how he should come home with him back to arkham and he'll help him "recover" and are trying to get to Tim's location as fast as they can while listening in on comms?

This was actually a scenario I thought of the day I found out about JJ. I feel like after what happened, Tim would do the opposite of what Jason would and has done. Instead of going to find the Joker, he would stay as far away from him or even his goons as possible. It would be like the third Robin and the Joker had no history, nothing to tie them together(which probably made Jason angry at some point).

So when he breaks out of Arkham(AGAIN, jesus), Tim, Babs, and Bruce don’t waste a minute before bringing up that Tim has another case he has to work on that is of the “upmost importance”. It’s actually just a 12 year old homicide cold case that he solved a month ago but no one has to know that. Jim knows to sweep that under the rug when RR comes by with the same exact evidence he came with a month ago.

But Lady Luck has never been on Tim’s side. The rest of the bats quickly lose track of the Joker. Babs manages to find him, but by that point, it’s too late.

Joker finds him. And he recognizes him. Underneath the new name, costume, and styled hair, Joker finds his “son”.

As you can imagine, he’s over the moon. But he’s also just as angry.

“Junior! You don’t call, you don’t text, you don’t send out an email. What’s a pop got to do to get their son to notice them?”

“I’m not your son.”

“Not with that hair you’re not. Your skin’s not how I left it at all! And what happened to that beautiful smile of yours? Did the bat ruin that too?”

Tim doesn’t take jabs about his smile well. This is why. And it gets under his skin that even after using so much foundation and concealer, the Joker can still see the remnants of smile lines along his cheeks.

“You’ve been avoiding me, Junior. You know papa doesn’t like being ignored.“

“You’re not my dad.”

“Ha! Who is then? Certainly not the old bat. Anyhow, this isn’t about him. It’s been so long, kiddo. Why don’t we stop by the old warehouse and have a chat. Maybe even pick up Mama while we’re at it.”

“Harley would rather die than go with you, and I’m not following you anywhere. Batman already has your location.”

That brushes the smile off the freak’s face. The expression he has on now is sickly reminiscent of how he was when he, Tim, and Harley played family years ago. It’s not a look he gives to other people. No one else has seen it, so they might think Tim a liar. But he can’t deny the parental disappointment in the man’s eyes.

“I know they don’t know.”

Now that. That really gets to him.

“None of your business.”

“It it, but you’re welcome to deny it. I believe it’s just the old bat, the beat up cop, and Ms. Gordon, correct? Not even the first Robin! Ha! I wonder what the second bird would think. Not to mention the girls! Oh! And we can’t forget about little old Signal.”

Tim doesn’t need him to tell him. He’s gone over the scenario so many times it drives him mad. What each of them would say. What he could do to make them think differently. What he would have to do if they found out. Where he could run to. It never gets easier.

Joker is trying to scare him. That’s the only conclusion he definitively has. And aside from his general psychotic tendencies, he genuinely believes he and Tim are family.

By the time Batman arrives with the GCPD, the Joker is tied and ready for extraction. But the villain’s smile is no less fear-inducing.

“You know I’m right, my boy,” he says as he’s take into the back of a truck.

“They’ll never look at you the same way again.”

It’s only when everything is over that Tim takes the time to look over his gear that he finds his mistake. One that the Joker knew about. One that he exploited.

When he shut off the comms, he didn’t shut them off. In his delirium over his past, instead of closing them off, he muted them. While he couldn’t hear any of their chatter, they definitely heard his. And he didn’t send Babs his acceptance to shut his comms off, something she couldn’t do without express permission.

So when he unmuted the comms, you can only imagine what he heard.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Three for One 3

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, cheating, customer service abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: As a customer service associate, you’re used to work with a wide variety of characters. Your efforts to go above and beyond draw the attention of a certain set of customers who want more than what’s on the shelf.

Character: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen, Ransom Drysdale

Note: Let's go!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me &lt;3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

Two days before Christmas. The store is left in tatters. Shelves strewn with sparse lefftovers and aisles hastily paced by those who left their shopping a bit too late. The frantic shoppers searching for a diamond among the sand grains of untouched product.

You work at arranging the remnants of the season’s beauty advent calendars on a table draped in a bright red cloth. There’s a large tag in a metal stand that marks them as ten percent off. On the other side of the holidays, they will drop to a full eighty percent off. You always believed giftcards were a better prize, not that you got many gifts.

That year, Luanne gave you a new journal and a specialty hot chocolate bomb in the department’s secret santa. You go Michelle and gifted her a copy of your favourite novel and some nail polishes. That is the extent of your shopping and gift exchanges. Except for your puppy, Ernie, who will get a bone and one of those special gourmet dog meals.

You finish your arrangement and step back, admiring your work. It’s close to close and so close to the end of the race that the shop isn’t as busy as usual. The only customers you do see are in a rush and horribly disappointed when that very specific thing isn’t in stock.

“Excuse me,” you’re drawn around the deep voice. A man strolls up the center aisle of the beauty section, the tails of his coat flicking behind him, “hi,” he uses your name as he approaches, “I’m so sorry to bother you again but can you point me to, erm,” he looks down at his phone, “a ring light?”

You hesitate. He seems to know you and you admit, he looks familiar. You’re at that point where the faces all blur together. Your one innate flaw is that you really don’t have a good memory for that, bt you definitely recognise his voice.

“Hello, sir,” you fall short of his name. You want to say Alan but you also don’t want to be wrong. “The ring lights are actually with the cellphone.” You gesture back at electronics, “I know it makes more sense to put them with cameras.”

“Ah, oh, thanks,” he nods but doesn’t move to find his quarry, he lowers his phone, “how’s your holiday going? Thing’s slowing down,” he looks around and you can’t help but do the same.

“Uh, yeah, yeah, most people are all done,” you shrug.

“Ha, wish I could say the same,” he sighs, “I thought we were done but the wife just sent me on a wild goose chase.”

“Hm, oh, well, I’m not very busy, did you need help finding anything else?”

“Really?”

“Yeah, my manager’s done for the day so doesn’t really matter if I leave my zone,” you say, “kinda boring around here.”

“You’re too sweet,” he smiles, his blue eyes deep and swirling, “and that sweater is adorable.”

You look down at your dark blue sweater with the white crochet peter pan collar. You wiggle your shoulders and grin back at him, thanking him. You know he bought some perfume for his wife but you’re still blanking on his name.

“Here’s my list,” he tilts his phone towards you and looks down, shifting closer to you as he shows you a text bubble.

“Oh my, right. I’m not sure we’ll have everything,” you teethe your lip as you go through the items, “but we’ll see.”

A message pops up over the top and you try not to read, putting your head up as you try to act like you didn’t see it. It’s not that you meant to decipher the words but your brain quickly skimmed that ‘tomorrow night?’ Not much but just feels a bit personal.

“Alright, we’ll go to electronics first, then work our way forward,” you suggest.

“Good idea,” he agrees.

You set off and he follows at just a step. You have to remember to slow down as often you’re so determined you find yourself leaving your customers far behind you. You bring him to the mobile accessories and point to the ring lights.

He considers them and rubs his chin. He points between two; “what’s the difference?”

“Oh, this one comes with a tripod extension and this one is a full kit with a mic,” you point from one to the other.

“What do you think is better for, uh, streaming?” He sounds unsure of that last word.

“I think that kit would have more to it, especially if whoever it’s for is just starting out. But I’m don’t know too much about these things.”

“I’ll take the kit,” he scoops it off the shelf, “the kid can never have enough.”

“Oh? You have kids?”

“One,” he sounds less than excited, “teenager now so he really can’t stand me.”

“I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to…”

“No, no, it’s not your fault,” he forces away the shadow across his features, “you know how they can be. What about you? You going to see your parents? Spending the day with someone special?”

“Um, just Ernie,” you answer, “my puppy.”

“Cute,” he remarks, “are you guys open tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow, yeah, ‘til five,” you try to remember the next thing on his list. 

He seems less concerned with the items than before, instead turn to examine a pop socket, “you have to work on Christmas Eve?”

“Yeah, closing, but I don’t mind.”

“What’s this?” He holds up a pop socket.

“It goes on your phone,” you pull out your phone and show him your daisy one, “see?” You hook your fingers around it, “it’s a grip to help you hold on.”

“Ah, makes sense,” he turns the thin package over, “kid’s always breaking his screen…”

You wait patiently as he makes up the mind to add the grip to his haul.

“What’s next?” You prompt as gently as you can.

“Oh, uh,” he looks at his phone, “video games…” he squints, “V-bucks?”

“Ah, yes, that would be a gift card,” you say, “I can show you the rack.”

He lets you lead him to the large rack of subscription cards. You point out the various currency amounts available and he rubs his brow. His forehead lines as you see the stress needling in his cheek. He’s struck with the late shopper syndrome. He’s start to feel the crush of time.

“So, just your dog?” He wonders as he picks up a $75 card.

“Yeah,” you answer softly.

“No boyfriend? Siblings?”

“Just me,” you assure him, “I don’t mind. I get to choose the dessert!”

He chuckles, “that’s a good way to look at it. Did you buy yourself something special?”

“Not really, I’ve been saving for a vacation so I put most of my overtime into that,” you explain. “You having a big dinner?”

“Last minute change, wife’s parents want to host. Had to figure out travel plans.” He looks at the giftcards again and your eyes fall to the large back curled up in his arm and the card and phone grip balanced between his fingers. He slides free a Netflix card and reads the fine print.

“Do you want a basket, sir?” You offer.

“Oh, well, sure,” he accepts as he looks down, “that’s very considerate.”

“Don’t want you to drop anything,” you smile and turn on your heel.

You go to the stack of rolling baskets beside the electronics desk. Tyler doesn’t acknowledge you as he sorts through game shells to put back on the shelf. You pull the basket behind you, rattling on its wheels as you approach the shopper by the gift cards.

“Here,” you veer it around towards him.

He bends to lower the ringlight inside and drops the smaller items into next to it; he adds the Netflix subscription along with it and holds onto the Kindle card in his hand.

“You got any of these around?” He holds up the card, “the reader?”

“Hmm, we should,” you rub your neck, “I suppose if we didn’t, you can get a tablet and download the app.”

“I guess,” he nods, “can you check?”

“Of course, sir.”

You turn away and call over your headset. Regan tells you there’s a kindle up in return they can sell. You ask them to put it aside.

“There’s one left at checkout. They’re going to have it waiting for you,” you announce proudly.

“That’s great. You like to read?” He asks.

“Oh, sure, my one vice is my book addiction,” you giggle, “how about you?”

“Well, I don’t get much of a chance with work. I’m usually burnt out from all the legal documents,” he drones grimly, “then the kid has extracurriculars or there’s a PTA meeting or the wife needs something done.”

“Sounds busy,” you say empathetically, “I hope you get some time to relax this holiday.”

“Me too,” he agrees. “I almost envy you. I’m sure your dog’s good company.”

“He’s so sweet,” you can’t help but beam at the mention of your boy.

“Big cuddler?” He asks.

“Uh, yeah,” the question is a bit unexpected, “you like dogs?”

“Never really had one. Don’t need the extra work,” he says, “but I don’t mind them.”

“That’s fair. He can be a bit needy.”

He flinches and looks down at his hand. His screen flashes and he gives an apologetic look as he raises his palm, “I’m so sorry. I need to take this.”

“Take your time, sir, I’ll wander,” you point over your shoulder with your thumb.

He mouths a thanks before he answers, “Barber.”

You back up and turn to distract yourself with the shelf of controllers and switch cases. His deep voice carries but you focus on the Sinatra carol playing overhead to drown him out. Still you can’t help but catch a few words.

“Five, yeah…no, she won’t…it’s fine…” He’s quiet for a moment before he raises his voice, “figure it out.”

His stern tone sends a chill through you. It’s a sharp contrast to his previously friendly demeanour. Well, he mentioned he’s a lawyer, you assume he has a lawyer voice, akin to your customer service one.

“Sorry,” he comes back to you, “my wife…” he takes a breath, “you don’t happen to sell wine here?”

You smile. The way he answered, it didn’t sound very affectionate but maybe he hadn’t expected his wife.

“No, sorry, sir.”

“Kidding,” he chuckles, “well, I guess I should get my butt in gear,” he flicks through his phone, “um, I assume toiletries? Face masks?”

“Oh, that’s near me,” you point back towards beauty, “there’s a special for the sheet masks.”

“Great,” he grabs the extended handle of the basket, “thanks so much for this. I’m so lost.”

“That’s fine,” you go ahead of him, “it’s the job.”

🎀

You groan as you put the last empty bin in the stack. You stand and rub your shoulders, traps sore from all the lifting and moving. The night crew will set up for the day after Christmas but in the last hour of work, you and the few others in the store scrambled to get the old displays torn down.

Luanne walks with you to the employee break room. She’s in more of a hurry as she has her three children waiting for her at their grandparents. She goes ahead of you and punches out as you wait and stretch out your arms.

“Have a good Christmas,” she says breathily as she opens her locker and pulls out her purse and jacket, folding the latter over her arm, “I’ll see you after. You’re opening, right?”

“Sure thing,” you say as you punch in your employee number. “Merry Christmas.”

“Give Ernie some pets for me,” she trills as she goes to the door. “Thanks again. You saved my ass today.”

“No problem, “ you shake your head, “Christmas Eve brings out the best.”

“Does it ever. Bye, sweetie,” she waves over her shoulder as he sweeps through the door.

You go to your locket and take out your fluffy pink sherpa coat and purse. You loop your scarf around your neck and slip your earmuffs around your head. You sit to pull on your boots and stand with an ache in your calves. You feel the fatigue finally setting in. It’s not over yet; one day off and you’re right back to the furor.

You yawn as you leave the breakroom and drag your feet across the store. You take out your phone as you pop your earbuds in and choose your holiday mix. You wave goodbye to a few other stragglers and go out the front door, Spencer locking it behind you.

It’s bitterly cold out. You’re surprised by the fresh fall of snow swirling in the air. It gives an extra sparkle to the time of year.

You scroll through your phone. The buses are on holiday hours already. The next one is in an hour. Great. You can just walk, at least until you get to the next stop. More buses stop there and you can get at least ten minutes within your building.

You trod along, kicking through the powder of snow as headlights gleam ahead of you. You walk along the narrow walk beside the hotel on the other side of the intersection and a pair of flashing tail lights blink ahead of you. A dark figure stands beside the white SUV but you can’t make out much more than their silhouette.

You keep going, peeking up curiously as you near. The boot of the car pops up and the stranded driver searches. As you pass, you trip over an unseen shape, the metal clank painfully against your toe. You look down at the small foot jack.

“Oh, shoot, sorry,” the man stands straight and turns to you, “I didn’t see you coming. I was just grabbing the iron–”

“That’s okay,” you pick out your earbuds, “I wasn’t looking.”

“Wait,” he stops short and points a gloved finger in your direction, “it’s you. You work at the store just down the way, right?”

You know the man. He’s the one who was in the store just yesterday. There’s a flutter in your chest at the coincidence of your encounter. It happens, especially in the shopping district. Half the city at least passes through her during the holidays.

“Yeah, uh, that’s me. You finish your shopping?”

“Just about,” he tuts and shakes his head, “blew a tire. So, happy holidays to me.”

“I’m so sorry,” you look down at the snowy walk.

“Mhmm,” he grumbles, “all this snow, I can’t get the jack to work either.”

“Dang, unfortunately, I’m not help. I don’t know much about cars.”

“That’s fine, I called roadside assistance but they’re taking their damn time,” he checks his watch.

“Oh…” you utter.

“Don’t let me rain on your holiday, honey,” he says, “your toe okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine,” you look down.

“Wait, are you walking home?” He asks.

You nod.

“Wish I could offer you a ride. This weather’s only getting worse,” he bemoans. He slips his hand into his jacket and pulls out his phone, “they should be here shortly so if–”

A set of headlights pull onto the apron and roll towards you. You look over as the man beside you does the same. You stand, somewhat dumbfounded at the unexpected run-in. 

“That’s them,” he declares, “hey, guys.”

He waves as the white van pulls up. You were expecting a tow truck. Oh, well. Not your problem.

“Great, I guess I should get going,” you excuse yourself, “have a happy holi–”

As you step back, your heel catches on something. You don’t realise until your plummeting onto your ass that the man stuck his leg out behind you. You hit the ground with an oomph, barely missing the metal jack half-buried in the snow.

You hear the van door sliding open and a clatter of heavy treads. You can barely catch your breath as the world moves fast around you. The man bends over you as another rushes over, grabbing you off the ground as the two vehicles block out the street from view.

“Be nice,” the first man warns as your arms are seized. “Don’t hurt her.”

You suck in a deep breath. What is happening? You go to let out the shriek as you’re struck by the situation. This can’t be real but you’re being half-carried towards an open vehicle. A hand comes up and stifles your scream, smothering you as you’re yanked harshly forward.

“Careful,” the man girds again.

“Shut the fuck up,” the other grits and pulls you away from the other, spinning you around as he hooks an arm around your neck and covers your mouth, forcing you towards the van. He bends backwards, lifting your feet as you kick and squirm.

“Honey, calm down,” the friendly customer coaxes, “it’s okay.”

You don’t understand. Why are they doing this? Why you?

The man’s hand slips as you grab at his arms and your teeth come over the vee between thumb and index. You bite down and he yowls. Even through his leather glove, you give him a viscous pinch.

“Fuck!” He tosses you forward so your knees hit the side of the van and fall half-inside.

“Hurry the fuck up,” another voice calls from inside the van.

“Trying,” the second man snarls as you stand and let out a shrill note, only for a second before you’re caught from behind and muted again. This time the leather glove seals over your nose. “Fucking bitch.” 

You’re lifted into the van, writhing and kicking as the door slides shut from the outside. You’re pinned on the floor in the seatless rear of the vehicle. You whimper as your eyes glisten with a sudden spring of tears. 

That question rings in your head again; why you? You have no one to look for you, no one to care. It’s only you against them.

[chlorinecake]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐏'𝐒 𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝟐 — a yang jungwon fanfic

Previously ⊱✿⊰

𖤣 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: after sharing with Jungwon your true feelings about the way he treats you during a fight, unexpected changes take place as you learn more about him

𖥧 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: abduction themes, swearing, violence, crying, nudity, attempted assault, slow burn, moody, not proofread ~

𖡼 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.3k ~ The next part...

✎ note: In no way does this fanfic intend to romanticize unhealthy relationships or abusive behaviors. I write purely for entertainment and creative purposes. Reader discretion is advised. 

You sat in the bath completely naked before Jungwon. He was still dressed in his work clothes as he hovered over the edge of the tub, lathering an orange scented soap all over your grimy skin.

Jungwon had forgotten you outside in the garden after assaulting you on the picnic mat that day. It wasn’t until a whole 48 hours had passed before he finally came back, only to find a cold and hungry you balled up under a bush. The trembling in your stomach remains as if it was yesterday, even though by now, the incident was more than three days ago.

You didn’t expect Jungwon to apologize for leaving you in the wilderness all that time, as part of you believed it was some sort of punishment for rejecting him. Though, if you were crazy enough, or maybe even smart enough, you probably would’ve tried running away when you had the chance—

“How’s the water,” Jungwon asked softly, using a comb to pick with the remnants of wildlife that decorated your hair, leafy bits falling into the warm rose petal bath.

“It’s lovely, Won-ah,” you replied with a blank expression, “I really don’t mind cleaning myself, though.”

“I insist, love. It’s the least I could do after letting you get so dirty in the first place.”

Oh, so that’s what he’s calling it now.

You watched as a cluster of bubbles swam on the surface of the bath water, reminding you of lily pads before they crashed into your legs, melting at your skin. Jungwon mirrored the bubbles in a lot of ways. At first glance, he seemed bright and friendly, bumping along pink waves that only drew him closer and closer to you. Though, once you finally collided, it’s like he couldn’t help but to absorb the contact.

Devouring you.

“I can tell there’s something on your mind, ____,” he interrupted your daydreaming, using a wash towel to rinse the muggy suds from your hair. “Penny for your thoughts?”

Pop.

The bubbles faded away as if knowing what was about to come.

“I-I don’t… it’s just,” you felt your breath grow unsteady as you struggled to answer him, let alone honestly.

The truth was, you hadn’t gotten much rest over the past few nights as you couldn’t shake the thoughts of what he almost did to you in the garden. You also didn’t want to provoke Jungwon by telling him what was truly on your mind.

Though, like a true predator, he sensed the fear in your silence.

“Why’re so scared of me,” he half-chuckled, putting the towel down before sitting on his knees. “It’s like you think I’m waiting to pounce on you or something.”

“Jungwon—”

“Look. Unless you plan to be honest with me, I’d rather you just keep quiet again.”

“Jungwon—”

“I’m listening, love,” he said, looking into your eyes with an intense gaze.

You were frustrated with his lack of patience yet also by your own hesitance to his curiosity, strangely making you feel guilty. You sunk deeper into the water, folding your arms over your bare chest as an attempt to make yourself feel more comfortable in your nakedness.

You sighed, “I haven’t gotten much sleep over the past few nights.”

He blinked, “____, if this is about the lamp, I’ll put it back in your room—”

“No, Jungwon.”

“When we first met, you told me that you were afraid of the dark. I’m so sorry for overlooking that, love—”

“Won, I didn’t finish what I was gonna say—”

“Do you want me to start sleeping next to you? I really don’t mind! You don’t have to be embarrassed about it either! I’d leap at any chance to get closer to you.”

Jungwon rested a hand on your shoulder which caused you to flinch away from him, clinging to the farther end of the tub. A bit of water splashed from your movements, wetting his clothes and the floor. He scoffed at your behavior, shaking his head in disappointment.

“Do you have any idea how it makes me feel when you jump at my mere touch? Like I’m some fucking monster?”

You stared back at him, chest heaving in regret.

He waited a few moments before getting up abruptly, leaning over the tub and pulling your soaking wet body out.

“Jungwo—” your words were cut short as he forcefully pinned you to the cold ground, your wet hair sprawled all over your frightened features. He ignored the puddles of water that you left on the floor, maintaining his grip on you by caging you between his legs.

Flashbacks resurfaced in the back of your mind. Or maybe this was all just a terrible sense of déjà vu. You wrestled beneath him, knowing good and well that your strength stood feeble against his. Still, it felt better to retaliate than to give in.

“Let go of me, Jungwon,” you fought, earning yourself a slap to the face.

“I’m only gonna give you few seconds to calm me down before I fuck the shit out of you on this bathroom floor.”

You winced at his words at if they cut you physically, still holding in the tears that wanted to spill from the slap.

You tried swallowing the fear that meddled at your core, knowing that when to it came to Jungwon, choosing silence was synonymous with suicide. Suddenly, your fright was replaced with a familiar rage.

“How am I supposed to tell you anything when you’re always seconds away from snapping on me?!” Your voice cracked.

He blinked at your words, “What did you just say?”

“I can’t sleep at night because of you, Jungwon! Why would I be afraid of the dark when what’s hiding in it is way fucking worse,” you swore, not being able to maintain the polite tone you usually spoke with.

He leaned back from your body, confused eyes wondering all over before something clicked in his mind: “You can’t force me to love you. Not like this.”

Immediately, he reached for the large towel that hung over the bathroom sink, draping the material over your shoulders as an attempt to cover you.

The bathroom by now was a dripping mess that he’d have to take care of later, but for now, his focus was on you.

He forced you to sit up, meeting him eye to eye on the damp tiles. He thought about the way you flinched at his touch. The way you tried covering yourself when facing him. The way your lip quivered before you could push out any words.

I am a monster, he thought to himself.

Tears grew in his eyes that mirrored your own red ones. His previously hostile hands rested sweetly in his lap, cautious not to touch you again. His shoulders rose and fell as he tried to calm his sobs, while all you did was sit uncomfortably and watch.

“Unless you plan on apologizing, I’d rather you quit your crying already,” you spat resentfully.

He looked at you with a frown, “Don’t talk to me like that.”

You shook your head at him, “And why not? Huh? Why not, Jungwon? When you can call me anything from your lover to a bitch and still expect me to believe it’s a matter of kindness!”

“____—”

“When every moment we share has to feel like I’m walking on the very egg shells of your erratic emotions!”

“I have to be this way for us—”

“When you threaten to rape me and get upset once I’m disgusted by you—”

Jungwon knocked over the bottles of shampoo that sat on his bathroom shelf, wailing at your words like a baby. Your body tensed at the chaos, ears ringing from the sudden noise. “Fuck, I’m sorry, ____,” he whined in between his frustration, “I am so… fucking… sorry.”

He didn’t bother wiping the tears that fell from his face, as they were gonna keep coming anyways.

“Sorry’s not good enough, Jungwon,” you sniffled, face still burning with emotion.

“Then I promise I’ll never hurt you in that way again. I swear to God, ____, I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to,” he pleaded, his nose and cheeks turning a soft shade of red.

He met you on the ground again, fingers fidgeting as if desperate to touch you again.

“Please say something, love.”

You sighed, “What is there to say, Wonnie?”

He sniffled at your words, hanging his head low with shame, “Fuck, ____, can you let me hug you at least? Can you hold me?”

You froze at his request. It was odd hearing Jungwon of all people ask for your consent, seeking comfort from the very person he constantly took it away from. He looked as if he would crumble if you told him no, so you gave in with a nod, allowing him to fall into your arms.

You ran a hand over his back as you tried soothing his nerves, feeling his hands desperately cling to your naked body as if he were the victim here. It never failed to shock you how his emotions could switch up, going from soft, sinister, to sullen in just a few seconds.

Cradling him granted you a satisfying sense of dominance, finally making him feel shame for the way he treated you, even though it’d only last for the moment.

“You can stop crying now, Jungwon. I’ve already forgiven you.”

That night, you and Jungwon slept in the same bed together, which was a first for the both of you, yet thankfully not as awkward as you thought it’d be. When you woke up, he was sitting at the edge of the bed, holding a steaming cup.

“What’s that?” You asked as the scent of foreign herbs hit your nose.

“I didn’t mean to leave you, but this tea couldn’t wait. It’s a mix of medicinal plants from my garden. It should help you sleep better,” he smiled, scooting closer to you on the bed.

“Drink up!”

“B-but it’s still morning, I can just drink it tonight.”

“It’s not fast acting, ____. You’ll need to drink it a few hours ahead of time in order for it to work,” he said, bringing the porcelain cup to your lips for you to sip.

“There are a few things I need to teach you so you won’t need me as much when I’m away. Besides, I could really use your help around the garden. How’s that sound?” You swallowed, “Don’t you have work today?”

“I got off early, love. I’ll be back with a change of clothes for you and we’ll meet outside,” he smiled again, biting back the urge to kiss you before walking out of the room.

After taking care of your hygiene, you got dressed in the oversized flannel and joggers he gave you, meeting Jungwon outside in the sunny field.

“It’s not morning anymore, is it?” You asked shyly, earning a fit of giggles from him.

“Yeah, no. I was honestly surprised when I came back and you were still sleeping.”

You took in the scenery of green grass and daunting forest frees before he placed a hand at the small of your back, guiding you a few feet further in the pasture. “D'you see that,” he pointed at the sky, sun rays glistening against his honey brown eyes that were still slightly swollen from the night before. “It’s around 6pm. Whenever the sun falls in between the top of that hill and the tallest tree to its left, you’ll know that I’m on my way back from work… or that it’s almost time for dinner,” he chuckled.

You hesitantly reached for his arm to examine the wristwatch he wore, reading the time that read 6:02pm. You always heard about people being able to tell the time from the sky, but you never actually believed it untll now.

“You never told me what you do for work?”

He sighed playfully in response, “So many questions, my love, but the answers will have to wait.”

Your eyes wandered off again before landing on a secluded green house with sage-stained glass trimming the domed ceiling.

“I have just one more question, Jungwon.”

“Mhm, and what’s the catch?”

“That if you answer honestly, I promise not to ask you anything else for the rest of this week.”

“Aww, what a stingy time frame,” he pouted, trying to hold back a smile, “what must you know, love?”

“That green place over there,” you said, pointing in its direction, “I wanna know what that is. If you don't mind sharing...”

You could see Jungwon swallow deeply at your question, placing his hands on his hips before slowly pacing back and forth.

“You promise you won’t ask me anything else if I tell you this,” he asked, meeting your eyes with his own nervous ones.

“Yes, Jungwon, I promise.”

He took a deep breath before speaking, “I’ll start with saying that it’s forbidden. Though, it’s where I keep the more…precious of my belongings. And exotic plants, too, like the ones I put in your tea.”

“Why is it forbidden—”

“Nuh-uh, no more questions, love," he interrupted, taking your hand in his before heading back to the cabin. "I'll take you to the kitchen where I keep my first aid supplies. It'll come in handy if you ever injure yourself while I'm gone."

You were still feeling relatively sleepy after just getting up, but you knew it'd benefit you later if you payed attention to his teachings.

"I know how to use a band-aid, Jungwon," you joked, skipping behind him with lazy steps.

“Well, in that case, we can skip this lesson," he said, letting go of your hand before rushing inside. Only a few seconds passed before he ran back out with a shotgun in his hand.

"I'm sure you'll want a tutorial for this one."

☆ Special thanks to @guessm0del for requesting a continuation of this piece! I'm honestly not too proud of this one, but hey, I tried! Hopefully it’ll come together better if y’all want a part 3...

☆ taglist: @fanficfactoryfoxxx @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @03sunoos @kaykay11sworld @gigiramirezsblog @hoonsyo @en-thralled  @night-en-shining-armor @cutiejseong @j-wyoung @rickysblkgf @bambangan @wonbyf @4imhry @zhangyi-johee @naddii  @valhrts @lisaaannna @lovelycassy @addictedtohobi @gardenwons @nikipedia07@tubatusoobs @03sunoos @clarisabutterfliescupcake @yevene @heecries @rosiemiayyxy @jungwonieee @edgykoo @luvmlkw @idkhoomanmaybe @sunsinmyskies

[hannie-dul-set]

HOME FOR THE BITCHLESS [6].

SYNOPSIS. wherein your friend offers a room for you to crash in while your dorm is being renovated, but fails to mention that your new housemates don’t know how to talk to women (oh, and they also have an ongoing bet about you, too).

PAIRINGS. choi soobin, choi beomgyu, lee heeseung, park jongseong, sim jaeyun, park sunghoon x female! reader. GENRE. housemates! au, rom-com, sitcom, reverse harem time baby. WARNINGS. almost drowning, a nauseating amount of stupidity, swearing, sex jokes, bribery, the boys are shirtless for most of the chapter. WORD COUNT. 5.2k.

TAGLIST. @cerealdreamwriter @tyongff-ff @dinonuguaegi @certifiedmoa @blueberrgyuu0 @primantha @blu3bell4 @nunugget @hoshi-is-ult-bbg @captivq @tocupid @seosalad @ddazed-lhs @gyuszie @mifuyuyo @error-cant-function @twocupsofsuga @flowerbe0m @dangerousconnoisseurbanana @laviesm @keikeu @elavin @chaemmie @rikisly @satsuri3su @gyugyubin @junhuicosmo @skzenhalove @luvkpopp @yansbolobao @emer-syn @eggomi @drunkinjake @soobiverse @deobitifull @haechanspudu @yawnzzn27 @7myoi @toothfa-1-ry @imsiriuslyreal @maimoirs @whippedforbeomgyu

NOTE. this is my favorite chapter so far i think i peaked here. the ppt scene was inspired by anthpo, my professors' tendency to use the socratic method to instill trauma in their students, and hoshi from seventeen's tiger agenda. also, most of this was written before i found out odi has passed 😔 fly high little guy.

MASTERLIST | NEXT >

CHAPTER 6 — the obligatory pool episode.

THERE’S A HEATWAVE IN TOWN. When you wake up, it feels like you got transported into Satan’s rectum. It’s sweaty and disgusting under your covers, and kicking them off does nothing to appease the hellish humidity inside your room. But when you roll over to grab the remote for the air conditioning, blindly press on the button, nothing happens.

You try again.

It’s not working.

You jolt up from your bed, hair a mess, and armpits too sweaty for comfort. A power outage. Of course, there’d be no power on the hottest day of the year.

“Fucking shit, I’m so hot,” you announce as you make your arrival downstairs. It’s only Sunghoon and Jay in the living room. They turn away from their game of jenga upon your arrival.

“Yeah, you’re super hot,” says Jay. “I mean, damn global warming sure sucks, huh?”

The wooden tower collapses. You stifle out a grunt of agreement. “Apparently some feeders in the neighborhood broke down,” Sunghoon informs you. “They’re still fixing it. The generator also wasn’t working when Heeseung hyung went down the basement to turn it on. I think we need to get that fixed too.”

Well, shit. That’s not good news. You give Sunghoon a pat on the head for speaking thirty-six words to you today before walking over to the kitchen. Last time you checked, there was a stash of popsicles in there. You’re pretty sure they haven’t been completely water-fied by the blackout yet.

For some reason, upon nearing the kitchen island, the fridge door is hanging open. You understand why when you step on something— er, someone— on the way towards your frozen delight. “Ow!” Beomgyu hisses from the floor. There’s remnants of cold wind filtering out from the refrigerator. Beomgyu has claimed it as his territory, and he’s glaring up at you from his spot. “Watch where you’re going.”

“‘Scuse me.”

You walk over him, hiking one leg across his torso before infringing upon his fridge monopoly to grab a half-melted melon bar. This isn’t exactly how Beomgyu imagined how it’d be like to be in between your legs. “I’m not sure if you’re dense or if you just don’t give a fuck,” he says, propping himself up by the elbows as you dig through a plastic bag.

“I really just don’t don’t give a fuck.” You snap a bite out of the pale green popsicle. “Want one?”

“Give.”

“Go get one yourself.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’m sure you’d love to.” You close the fridge door shut and make sure to kick his side with your foot when you cross over him again. He lets out a cry of pain. You turn back, satisfied with your cold exploits, but there is no wall separating the living room and the kitchen, so Sunghoon and Jay were witnesses to that entire conversation. “Do you also want a bite?” you ask. Their ears burn a couple degrees brighter before declining.

Was that an intentional insinuation? Yes. Do you enjoy destroying their composure on purpose? Also yes. It’s a new hobby you picked up since staying here, and it’s definitely one you’ll miss once your dorms get fixed and you’d have to move out. Jay and Jake are both particularly difficult to get through, but sometimes you can manage to fluster the former, just like now. Jake has been impossible so far. You’ll get him one day. He can’t be left unscathed.

This may seem terrible, and sometimes you do get a teensy bit conscientious when one of them starts crying or becomes temporarily incapacitated— until you remember they have this whole secret bet going on that definitely involves you, so you should be allowed to fuck around this much, right?

“Hey! Why don’t we have a pool party?”

The genius idea comes from Jake. You immediately run up back to your room upon hearing the suggestion to change into a bathing suit, pausing right before your door because you don’t want anyone waving the PD&J at your face for indecent attire again. So you throw on a beach kimono for the safety of your wallet. They emptied the jar out yesterday to buy some meat for a barbecue party that’s supposed to be scheduled this weekend, but looks like you’re gonna be having that sweet, sweet pork belly tonight right by the chlorine scent of the pool. 

You hurry downstairs, so fucking ready to be submerged in cool, refreshing water. But when you get to the courtyard— all the boys already loitering in and around the pool— you realize something. 

Something a little dangerous.

“You’re finally here!”

Oh no. They’re hot.

“We’re playing chicken fight, come jo—”

A rather scantily clad Sunghoon pushes an equally scantily clad Jake off Soobin’s unclothed shoulders and into the splash of the water. They are all bare-skinned, glistening wet, and although it’s not a bad sight to behold at all, it’s a discovery that you wish had remained undiscovered until you finally leave this damned house.

Listen. It’s not like you’ve never seen any of them shirtless or almost naked before. Jay was literally in his highlighter underwear when you first met him. But you were never put in a situation where you’re able to look at them closely because all those times have been meshed with something stupid.

It’s very easy to overlook their general attractiveness when they all act like third-graders, bitchless losers, scandalized Victorian men, or all of the above at the same time, in the same sequence. It’s really easy to forget that.

But Heeseung has his soaked tank top sticking to his skin and Beomgyu is pushing his wet hair back with a wide grin. Your housemates might actually be a tad bit more attractive than your prolonged, initial impression of them. This can cause a little internal trouble.

“Why aren’t you getting in the water?”

Soobin is the one that’s asking, having already left the water fight in the middle and is now looking up at you, chest deep near the pool’s edge. You look down. You’re not sure if he’s looking directly at you because you’re a little focused on his toned arms resting above the ledge, but if he is, then good on him for keeping up with his eye-contact practice hours.

“Hey,” you call out, crouching down and hugging your knees. “Do you work out?”

Silence. Pink scatters across Soobin’s cheeks. He coughs out an unintelligible response and disappears back under the water, quietly swimming away. Yes. This is how it should be.

Feeling a lot more at ease after confirming you still have the upper hand, you finally dip your legs into the pool and stretch out your back with a satisfied groan. Fuck, this is perfect. You’re honestly unsure how you’re supposed to transition back into life at the dorms when this house has a perfectly refreshing pool at your disposal. You don’t remember what life was like before this. You’d live here for the rest of your life if you could. But you have enough pride in your system to prevent you from extending your verbal contract with Jake. Two months. It’s a few days past the halfway point now. All you could do is enjoy this life of comfort as much as you can.

Until it gets ripped away from you in the form of Jake yanking your ankle and dragging you under the water with a horrifying splash. 

Before you know it, you’re gasping for air and grabbing the nearest thing your arms could reach out for so you don’t fucking drown— but when you finally manage to rise back to the surface, a loud inhale of air into your lungs, the person you managed to hold onto just happens to be Heeseung.

Heeseung, who’s looking down at you with wide, alarmed eyes while you’re wrapped around his waist. Heeseung, who shoves you back into the water out of panic and shock and whatever the fuck his problem is.

Jake rushes to pull you back up. Heeseung is dead to you.

“I’m sorry.”

He failed to kill you so he’s now down on his knees, timid palms on his lap, and head lowered in guilt.

“I am very sorry,” Heeseung repeats. “I am deeply reflecting on my actions.”

You’re sitting on the half log shaped chairs on the courtyard, still wet, arms and legs both crossed in petulance as Sunghoon quietly dries your hair with a towel from behind (no, you didn’t scare him into doing this). 

“Stand up.” He flinches at the tone of your voice. “Go get yourself dried up so we can finally start the barbecue.”

He’s awfully obedient. You watch as his slumped figure trudges back into the house. “Was that too much?” The back of your head hits Sunghoon’s bare stomach when you try to look at him. He’s holding your head in his hands with the damp towel in between.

“You’re always a little much,” he mumbles.

“Is that a bad or good thing?”

Sunghoon ponders for a moment, staring at your upside down face. “More is always better than less?”

You smile, snatching the towel from his hands and jumping off from your seat. “Good answer.” Two gentle pats of praise on his cheek set his skin on fire. Speaking of fire, you can already smell the scent of smoke and deliciously cooking meat wafting in the air, so you run over to Jay who’s on grilling duty, hoping to get an early bite.

“Can you pass me a plate?” he asks, flipping the cut up pieces of meat on the barbecue grill. “Thanks.”

“Gimme one.” You open your mouth, chasing after the slice of pork belly on his tongs until he brings it closer to your mouth for you to bite. “Holy shit,” you muffle out, hot air escaping from your lips.

“Good?” he asks.

“Very good.” You swallow the piece. “One more?”

He lets you snack on a bunch of well-done beef before they could reach the plate and at some point he mentions, as you’re tearing open a few packs of ramyeon to cook, that you look a lot like the curled up pieces of shrimp he’s currently grilling. You narrow your eyes at him, hand dangerously hovering above boiling water with a square of raw noodles. “Are you trying to say I look charred and have a terrible posture?”

“No.” Jay raises a piece of shrimp in the air, showing it off to you. “Doesn’t it look cute?”

Now that you’re looking at it a little closer, it does look kind of cute. Huh. “Would you eat me if I was a grilled shrimp?”

Jay thinks about it. He keeps thinking until you start smelling something burning. “I’d keep you safe in my pantry,” he finally answers. 

“So you’ll just let me spoil over and die?”

His expression drops. “Fuck.” The shrimp is unsalvageable. “I guess I’d have to eat you.”

The rest of dinner goes on as you expect. Jay and Beomgyu take turns over the grill until Jake thought he’d be naturally gifted over the fire and ended up making charcoal with the last pack of galbi (“It’s fine!” he said. “I’ll take care of it!”) and today’s heatwave suddenly becomes a whole lot hotter with the rising flame on the fucking grill right when Soobin brings out the marshmallows for dessert. It gets quickly defused by a fire-hydrant bearing Heeseung. Now your charcoal galbi has toxic frosting on them. This is the sign to move on to the next part of the program.

The set of log-themed chairs on the courtyard has a bonfire set-up at the center. Of course this unreasonably nice house has that. It’s already getting dark, ink seeping into the orange tintent sky. Jake decides to redeem himself after watching Heeseung fail to set up the chunks of wood for the nth time. “You don’t know how to start a fire? Dude, that’s so lame.” 

“You burnt all our remaining meat with those fire starting skills of yours,” Heeseung huffs, stepping aside for the self-proclaimed camping expert.

“You still ate them.” You’re pretty sure that isn’t healthy.

“Because you would’ve felt sad if I didn’t.”

“You’re both equally lame,” Beomgyu chides, plopping down beside you with a bag of chips that you unceremoniously dig your hand into. “You two haven’t even had your solo chapters yet.”

A flame erupts on the bonfire. Both of them turn to look at Beomgyu. “What?”

“What are we arguing about?” Jay joins in, looking a little too excited for the squabble.

“About the fact that I’m cooler than both Heeseung and Jake.”

Heeseung’s expression falls flat. “You dropped out to become a streamer.”

“Leave of absence! I took a leave of absence and I’m coming back next year!”

Sunghoon and Soobin are both just ignoring the mess, roasting their skewered marshmallows on the bonfire and you aspire to be that level of unbothered. “Let’s consult a professional’s opinion,” Jay suggests, and all their eyes immediately fall on you. “Who do you think is the coolest?” Apparently that professional is you.

“This is like asking which dwarf is the tallest midget,” you wrinkle your nose. “But alright. Why don’t we settle this like real men?”

“Arm wrestling?” Sunghoon jumps in.

“Cooking contest?” Heeseung pitches.

“Do you want us to beat the shit out of each other right now?” Jake’s eyes fly wide open, alarmed. “I don’t think that’s a healthy way of settling arguments.”

“The fuck? No,” you spit out. “Thirty minutes. Prepare a powerpoint presentation explaining why you’re the coolest loser. Convince me. Ten slides max. Good luck.”

Something about almost naked men scattered around your home premises, aggressively typing on their keyboards with so much concentration and determination is so funny. You’re enjoying the raw bag of marshmallows by yourself beside the fire, watching as Heeseung starts panicking when you yell out “Five minutes left!” and starts typing even more aggressively. It’s pretty entertaining. Why haven’t you done this before?

At some point Jake brings out a projector and a projector screen to the courtyard. Seems like the power is back on, and your classroom of death has been set in place.

“Okay. Who wants to go first?”

You’ve produced a clipboard while they were working very hard on the PPTs earlier, legs crossed, fire crackling in front of you, and you click the butt of your pen in intermittent seconds as you scroll your eyes from left to right across the six boys standing in front of you. Heeseung looks confident. Jay and Beomgyu, too. There’s sweat dripping down Sunghoon’s forehead and Jake is furiously flipping through his notepad like he’s cramming for a final exam. But the poor, unfortunate soul that just had to look away from your gaze is none other than—

“Choi Soobin.” He flinches, nearly letting go of the laptop he has clutched against his chest. “Give it a go. The rest of you sit down.”

He looks rattled. “I’m not— I’m not really good at presentations,” Soobin chokes out, and the rest disappear from his side.

You let your chin rest on your knuckles, leaning forward. “Are you forfeiting? Is this a forfeit I’m hearing?” He doesn’t respond. You sigh. “Choi Soobin, are you settling with a D? A tiny, miniscule, measly D?” Beomgyu lets out a snort. You shoot him a sharp stare. “The other Choi, please shut the fuck up unless you want me docking points from you. Choi number one, please start your presentation.

Beomgyu straightens in his seat and Soobin hesitantly clears his throat, turning towards the blank, white projector screen as he holds the clicker with a visibly shaky hand. “Good— good evening,” he starts. “My name is Choi Soobin, and today I was tasked to explain why I am the coolest housemate out of the six. The answer is I am not. I’m not very cool. But—”

When he clicks to the next slide, your clipboard clatters on the ground.

“But I do have a hedgehog, and that’s kinda cool?”

“Holy shit,” you exhale a breathy squeak, the picture of the rodent’s cute little snout occupying half of the large screen. Soobin cycles through a bunch of photos of his hedgehog and the various screams of delight you’re eliciting after each photo makes him smile a little bit more. “Look at that little guy! Oh my god. What’s his name? Where is he? Can I meet him? Please let me meet him, Soobin I am begging you, I will get on my knees for you.”

“His name is Odi and he’s currently living at my parents’ house,” he explains. “I’ll invite you sometime.”

“That’s cheating! This isn’t part of the guidelines!” Jake interrupts, pointing an accusatory finger at the photo of Soobin holding Odi in his hands. Your coos are unceasing.

Heeseung nods along. “Professor, I believe this is completely unrelated to our topic at hand.”

Soobin looks visibly offended. You straighten your expression and click your tongue. “Ahem,” you start. “As much as I believe that Odi is the darn cutest little shit to ever exist and I will die for him given the chance, Heeseung is right. Mr. Choi, I’m afraid I’d have to give you a C.”

He presses the clicker. The slide is back to the video of Odi running down a slide.

“Okay. B minus.”

Now it’s the one where he’s laying stomach-up on the floor.

“Fuck. God dammit. B plus and that’s it. Soobin, sit down. Heeseung, you’re up next.”

Soobin seems satisfied with the grade, dimples popping out with a smile as he takes Heeseung’s seat in the audience when the latter readies himself for his turn. He stifles out a cough-laugh, one corner of his mouth crookedly twitching upward, confidently sauntering up to the front with his iPad, and it’s mildly unsettling because he’s usually Nervous Boy #2. But it’s almost cheating how pretty his teeth are when he’s smiling. 

And apparently he’s aware of that fact. Because after projecting his title slide (LEE HEESEUNG 101: the anatomy of a Cool Guy™), the next thing that appears is actually a photo of his very charming smile, coupled with Chip Skylark’s “My Shiny Teeth and Me” as the background music for his scientifically-grounded explanation. The next slide is a zoom in of his eyes next to a photo of Bambi. He has a venn diagram. This is actually pretty compelling.

Heeseung is a good speaker. He’s really good. The rest of his presentation goes smoothly, finishing it up with a list of references in APA format. Jake and Jay give him a round of applause.  “If you have any questions, I’ll be more than happy to answer them,” he smiles.

“That was a fantastic presentation, Mr. Lee. I particularly liked the part when you demonstrated your ability to make very impressive, but also very alarming sounds with your fingers.” You flip through your very blank clipboard, nodding and throwing out hums at the times you deem appropriate. “I’d give you an A plus, but...I have one question for you.”

He nods. “Yes?”

“Heeseung, can you hug me?”

It evidently catches him off-guard, just as you predicted— persona of confidence crashing down like a waterfall as he stutters out, “Wh—what?”

You clear your throat. “Only cool people are able to hug me. I need to confirm that you’re cool.”

“I can hug you!” Jake declares right next to you.

You blindly reach out your arm to give him a head pat. “See. Jake says he can hug me so he must be pretty cool. Heeseung, you can do the same, can’t you?

There it is. He’s back to being nervous and you feel like your job here is done. “O–of course,” he stifles out, following it with a strained laugh of weak incredulity. “Why wouldn’t I be able to hug you?”

“Then prove it.” You stretch out your arms, ready to squeeze and be squeezed. “Give me a big ‘ol squeeze, pretty boy.”

You stay like that for ten seconds as Heeseung remains glued to his spot in front, eyes shaking and nipping at the dead skin on his lips. You let your arms fall back to your sides. “Okay. C minus. Next.” His expression quickly transforms into offense.

“I feel like this grading system is a scam.”

“No hug, no opinion. Sit your ass down,” you click your tongue, smacking him with the clipboard when he weakly trudges back and squeezes next to Beomgyu on the crowded seat to your left with the box of snacks occupying most of the fake log, even though there’s clearly enough space next to you because Jay already started walking to the front even without your instruction.

Jay does not give an introduction, only a rough clear of his throat and he opens his presentation with just a slide occupied with his face. Slide two is another picture of his face, only slightly zoomed out. The next one has the hashtag JWU. Then there’s a full body mirror selfie.

The rest of the presentation proceeds in the same manner— a wordless slideshow of what is possibly his Instagram feed and before you know it, it’s already over. “Okay,” you exhale, pressing your palms together in front of your lips. “I understand that you are indeed a very handsome individual, Mr. Park, but what does that have to do with the assigned topic?”

“The question is why I am the coolest one here,” he says. “I’m cool because I’m Jay Park.”

It falls quiet.

You finally break the silence.

“Shit, that’s a pretty compelling argument.”

“This is bullshit!” Sunghoon argues. “He didn’t even say anything! There was no discussion! He should be disqualified.”

Jay remains unfazed. He defends with irrefutable wisdom, “Sometimes pictures speak louder than words.”

“Damn.” You let your clipboard fall to your lap. “I’m giving you an A.”

“Fuck yeah.”

Your decision elicits outrage from some of your students. “How is he getting a higher grade than me?!” one of them raises.

“He’s getting a higher grade because he doesn’t think I have cooties, Heeseung.” 

Heeseung throws his arms in the air in defeated frustration as Jay takes his snug seat right next to you again, a victorious smile gracing his face. You run your eyes through your scratch paper once more, pen tapping at the edge of the board. “Beomgyu, do you want to go next?” you ask, which is a mistake on your part because he starts acting just as obnoxious as Heeseung, which— if anything— just triggers your desire to make him crumble to his knees.

He even pulls out a lecture stick, testing it out by snapping it at full length on his palm. Is the fucker trying to go after your role as professor? Where the fuck did his glasses suddenly come from?

“Alright,” Beomgyu begins, the first slide displaying the words Why Choi Beomgyu is the coolest Housemate. “First thing’s first, does anyone in the audience know what my name is?”

“Oh, me!” Jake raises his hand. “Choi Beomgyu!”

“Correct!” The next slide appears when he hits the screen with the stick, revealing his name in a large, bold font with large spaces in between each syllable. “Choi. Beom. Gyu. Choi Beomgyu. Now, I’d like to direct your attention to this specific syllable right here—” he draws a circle around ‘Beom,’ “—what does Beom mean?”

“Offense,” Sunghoon answers. Beomgyu’s face scrunches up.

“What? Fuck, no. Another meaning— oh! Yes, Soobin hyung?”

“Tiger?”

His eyes brighten. “Exactly!” 

The next slide is a photo of a tiger on a field of green grass, grooming its fur as Beomgyu passionately rattles on with fun facts about the animal. You have no idea where this is going. “Tigers are some of the most amazing creatures on the planet, they are the largest members of the cat family and are renowned for their power and strength. As the largest member of the cat family, Tigers are strong, powerful and one of nature's most feared predators—”

“Did you get that from a website?” Jay interrupts.

Beomgyu dismisses him. “Yes, I did, but that’s not the point. The point is—”

Next slide. A hit from his lecture stick. It’s more text. Beom = Tiger. Beom = Choi Beomgyu’s cute nickname. Tiger = Beomgyu. 

“We have discussed that tigers are the coolest animals in the world. My name has tiger in it. Therefore I am the coolest person here. End of presentation. Thank you.”

He drops the stick to the ground and is about to walk away with Jake’s applause, but your penetrating stare stops him right before he reaches the crackling bonfire. You scribble on the clipboard before letting it settle face-down on your lap. You look up at him. “Beomgyu, are you a furry?”

Beomgyu freezes. He lets your question settle in his system before voicing out a very loud, very crunchy, “What the fuck?”

“Is this your way of telling us that you’re a furry?” 

“No! What are you talking about?” he hisses. “I’m just saying that since tigers are cool, that means I’m also cool and—”

“So, you’re identifying with a tiger?” you cut him off.

He presses his lips together, cautious. “Yes…”

“Because you have the word tiger in your name?”

“Yes.”

“And because they’re cool?”

“Yes. We’ve established that alr—”

“Okay, so you’re a furry?”

“Ye— no!” he yells out. “I’m not a fucking furry!”

“Understood. You’re a furry in denial.” You write something down on the clipboard. Beomgyu’s shoulders slacken in defeat. “I’m giving you a B plus. Take a seat, Tigerboy.” Though he grumbles in distaste, he listens to you anyway, trudging deflatedly back to his seat next to the equally grumbly Heeseung.

There are two people left to be victimized. Jake looks excited, so you don’t want to indulge his positive emotions. “Sunghoon,” you call out with a pleasant smile. He squeezes his eyes shut and mutters something under his breath before forcing himself up the log without you having to tell him. “Good boy. Go set up your thing.”

Unlike the rest, Sunghoon doesn’t have a laptop or phone or flash drive with him when he awkwardly takes the presenter spot in front. He’s standing on the balls of his feet, arms tucked behind his back and lips tightly pressed together nervously. “Mr Park,” you pull down your clipboard. “You’re free to project your slides.”

“Well,” he coughs out. “The thing is.”

“Yes?”

He exhales loudly. “I don’t have any slides.” You raise a brow. “I don’t know how to use powerpoint.”

You look at him. “I see.”

“I don’t know how to use this projector, either.”

You pause.

“Okay. I understand.” He breathes out a sigh of relief. “Alright, next present—”

“Wait!” Sunghoon stops you. “I can still give my presentation, I don’t need any dumb slides! I’m just as cool, if not cooler than the rest of them, so you can’t just skip over me.”

“Mr. Park,” you start. “Unfortunately, one of the criteria for this presentation is the quality and organization of your slides. I do not see any slides being presented, Mr. Park. You may present next time once you’re fully prepared.”

“What about Jay?” he tries to reason. “He just showed you a preview of his camera roll!”

The man in question has his mouth hanging open, pausing in the middle of stuffing a nicely toasted marshmallow into his mouth. You let out a sigh. “He had philosophy, Mr. Park. Philosophy,” you explain. “Do you have philosophy? Are you confident that you can convince me with your words alone? Without the help of cute animals and pictures of your pretty face?”

At the mention of his face, his knitted brows of frustration quickly melt into faint pink hues dusting his cheeks. You sniffle a little, rubbing a finger under your nose as you flip through the next page of the clipboard that’s resting on your lap. “Meet me in my office after class,” you tell him. Sunghoon grunts and stomps back to his seat in defeat.

“This sucks balls.”

“You have quite a few options to pick and choose from here,” you hum. “Jake, you’re the last one up. Please tell me you have a presentation prepared.”

“I do, and it’s gonna blow your mind,” he grins.

“Looking forward to it.” You watch blankly as Jake runs up to the front to connect his laptop to the projector, an excited bounce in his every movement and you start wondering how you can shatter this one’s hopes and dreams.

He asks if he can start. You give him a nod. At the click of a button, something boomerangs into the blank screen with 2007 Windows graphics and animation. The atrocious mismatch of fonts say Jake Sim is the coolest one here and here’s why.

“Reason number one—” Jake starts his presentation, turning over to the next slide and your vision is attacked with more outdated graphics, more jarring transitions and animations. “—I’m super funny. Allow me to demonstrate.” He begins by clearing his throat. “What did the Italian chef get sent to jail for?”

“What?” you go along.

“Too much assault.”

An assault is also a very proper descriptor for his PPT aesthetic. An assault to your eyes. It’s like watching a car crash that you can’t look away from even if you try. Reason number two is that he has a great smile (he does). Reason number three is because he has a dog (he also does). Reason number four doesn’t exist because he miscounted and skipped over to Reason number five.

“And lastly, Reason number ten—”

He takes something out of his pockets. It’s a couple dozen bills being thrown into the air.

“I have a lot of money.”

The rest of the boys are quiet. Jake grows quiet too, chest rising and falling after that very enthusiastic presentation and his wide grin slowly melts into that muddled with nervousness and unease because you aren’t saying anything yet— just looking at him with stern eyes and a sharp gaze. “W-well?” he rasps. “How did I do…?”

“How much?” you ask. He cocks his head in confusion. “How much money do you have?”

“Oh.” Jake blinks, now understanding. “I don’t know but it’s a lot.”

Your eyes sparkle, posture straightening. “Will you give me some of that money?” The unease has left Jake and has now transferred to the other five boys around you. Oh boy. Oh no, their eyes all seem to be saying.

“Sure, why not.”

You clap your hands together. “Jake wins. Class dismissed. Good night.”

It doesn’t take long for chaos to break out.

Heeseung and Jay are demanding for a recount (there is nothing to count except the sweet, sweet cash you’ll be receiving) and Beomgyu accuses you of being a slave to capitalism (that should’ve been evident from how you tried to scam money out of them with nudity and a jar on your first week here). Soobin starts clearing up the projector set-up and Sunghoon is on his knees begging for another chance to do his presentation as you watch the digits on your phone screen bump up in real-time when Jake wires you a decent chunk from his bank account.

Another successful day at the residence. This heatwave is better than you thought.

HOME FOR THE BITCHLESS. © hannie-dul-set, 2023.

[comfortless]

hi syl! omfg i cannot believe we are mutuals, i love your works so much. but have you heard of the midieval concept called “marriage on the gallows?” basically, a person who was given death penalty can still be saved when someone promises to marry them. all i can think about is könig going to a live hanging/ burning at the stake and using marriage on the gallows to have a wife.

not like she was framed or anything, right(????) but don’t worry, könig promises to make her happy and alive now that he’s her husband. or maybe knight! ghost was the one who was about to be killed but y/n is like “I CAN FIX HIM” and marries him instead.

chanting Torta, Torta, Torta hi!! i am hugging you for this. <3 i have heard of it! but never did i think to apply it to König and now here we are… ^^

content/warnings: forced marriage?, vague religious imagery, injury, threat of public execution, vague smut.

When you sell your soul, really sell it, you’re cutting away from the umbilical cord that tethers you to whatever waits in the darkness of the afterlife. You kneel, you pray, you bathe yourself in sacred water and parrot divine words, but you don’t realize you’ve become obscured in invisibility, a shadow, a husk.

He’s clipped her wings and the only thing left to do is end her flight, let her go tumbling down into a pit of sulfur from the rope lead tied to her neck: to die before a sea of jeering faces, horse shit and fine wine, gilded paintings and the darkened splatter of blood, dried and crisp against a wooden stage.

König knows something about that, because there’s a dense, thorny guilt curling in his chest as he looks up at the little sparrow led up to the rope with her face pushed down by a hand that doesn’t belong there.

She’s done no wrong; smiling sweetly at a man like him shouldn’t have resulted in this. His heart shatters when he hears her begin to cry, her battered face wrenched up to face the crowd by the hangman’s cruel hands.

A little, flightless bird like this could never have done what he did to get her here. Gentle, sweet things knew so little of the very blood that pulses in veins, of what a man’s innards look like spilt out on a thick blade.

But of course they will believe anything— she’s a commoner, no special asset to the village. They needed their farmers, their tailors, and men like him— the blacksmith they all shunned as though he had risen from the fiery pit he worked away at himself. They didn’t need her.

Only he did.

So when he steps through the crowd of vultures to watch as the rope is tightened around her delicate neck, his voice comes in a roar. He propositions the hangman that he will take her as his wife, haul this devil back to his shack at the village’s edge and ensure that she— he will spill no more blood.

She weakly raises her head to eye him, recognizing him immediately as the man who had accused her of murdering that stable boy only two nights prior. Her stare is not judgmental or accusatory: she doesn’t have a clue of the lengths he has went to- would go to- to tether her to him.

A fortnight later, the woman becomes his bride.

She doesn’t know what brought her such a malison, how she came to be the wife of a man who once cast his accusations toward her, but she’s grateful to the man who’s cursed her to suffer him.

There’s no celebration, no flowers or dancing. There’s a kiss she nervously leans into at the chapel, shy, while his heart bursts into flames.

She isn’t blessed with meaningful vows, only a pleading profession whispered into her ear when his kisses reach from her neck to the curve of her jaw.

It’s consummated in that darkened shack, not a candle lit where smoke has painted the walls black with ash and dust; a place where she curls her arms over him sweetly and breathes her thanks against his shoulder, where his fingers commit every curve, dip, and ridge of her to memory. His words are lost in her hair, her shoulder, her chest as he devotes every remnant of himself to her entirely. He isn’t gentle, but he tries when her tight whines and whimpers fill his ears, drowning out even his lamentations.

She tolerates him four times over before he can will himself to pull away from her warmth. The guilt is replaced by a sense of purpose, a certainty that all he’s done has been entirely for her. She tells him that she would never hurt another thing, and he whispers against her skin, “I know.”

His flightless engel does not remain downtrodden.

Each morning she wakes him with giggles, face warmed in memory of the night’s prior rapture. She bakes for him, sweet things that he’s never thought himself worthy of prior while he buries himself against her, yearns to pry apart her ribs and bury himself in her softness for all time.

He kisses at what remains of the scars along her neck when she finds him melding down steel for a new weapon, takes her into his lap just to watch the flames dance in her eyes.

[zutarasbuff]

I watched the Netflix adaptation of ATLA today and being a hardcore fan of the OG series who knows every nook and cranny of the ATLA world, here’s my unbiased and truly honest review (It contains both the negatives and positives of the series, so dear reader please enter to read at your own risk).

Firstly, let’s talk about the wonderful additions to the already magical world of ATLA.

1. The depth of the genocide

Well, I always wanted to know how the air nomads were suddenly wiped out and how it would have been for them? Why didn’t they resist? I got my answers in the first episode where we explore how the unhinged power of the comet was “actually” used to create a genocide on a massive level. Before that, I had only heard about it in the OG series. Those few scenes were so powerful that they had left me sobbing uncontrollably and Gyatso’s concern regarding Aang had me bawling.

2. Suki’s Characterization

In the OG series, we do find our Suki the fiercest warrior, but here in the live action, she’s an absolute goddess. She is perfect in every sense. She understands the responsibilities she has being a non-bender and is fearless. Her character is what I believe to be was the strongest one of all.

3. Graphics & Music

We never talk about a film by M.Night (that didn’t happen), but this one is really a visual treat for you can readily set yourself up for some mind-blowing bending scenes, plus the fight scenes are quite impressive. It seems that the VFX team had really done their homework this time. Plus, both Momo and Appa are so freaking cute. I loved the fluffy Appa. Good work over there. The revival of the OG theme is also a highlight plus the sun warriors’ chanting in the end is given a new but intriguing twist. The background music especially in scenes where Aang unravels his Avatar powers is mystical in every aspect.

4. Life in motion

I don’t know about others, but I have always been a sucker for animation as well as live-action where characters are operating even in the direst of the circumstances. Life is there and even after they know what happened a hundred years ago, they are still trying to believe and regain their past confidence. This is beautifully portrayed and I was very much impressed by the way people are continuing their day-to-day activities even in the middle of a crisis.

Overall, the series serves the purpose of an adaptation carrying its unique colors (at least better than the previous live-action disaster that didn’t happen).

Now let’s move to the bad side, and when I say it’s honestly what I felt, you need to take my word on it being a hardcore Atla fan.

1. Weak writing & lots of exposition

ATLA remains at a 9.2 IMDB rating even after years because of its writing, strong plot, and very few plot holes. This time, the writers are the real amateur ones. Despite adding more to the already flourishing universe of ATLA, sadly, they killed the quest of the viewer to find answers. There is too much exposition. It seems that every character just wants to see the end of the war and keeps on revealing things after things. Plus, some of the OG moments that were the soul of the series are not even included. The way Aang finds Momo and then decides to keep it with him as a last remnant of their bygone air nomad civilization is nowhere to be found. In fact, the replacement of Roku with Kyoshi is the biggest disappointment. I love Kyoshi like no one else but that was unnecessary as per the cycle.

2. Bland acting

Even the worst writing shots can be digested only if the acting appears real good. Sadly, this is another issue that I found with the NETFLIXED version. No doubt the characters must have done a lot of hard work for this, yet, they lack the expressive power. Gordon as Aang is super cute but the goofiness is not even there. Katara seems a nerd who doesn’t like to talk much even when it’s necessary and Sokka’s jokes are forced. Meanwhile, Dallas seems to save the day at one point, but again his over-the-top angry young man attitude ruins it for me. Maybe the actors will learn from the criticism in the upcoming season (if Netflix plans to go with it).

3. Major changes

Yes, it’s okay to change the narrative while you are working on an adaptation, but targeting the loyal viewers who are OG fans of ATLA means that you have to be very careful when you are trying to implement your changes in scenes that are the real soul of the OG. You can’t change the Omashu myth as if it’s nothing when we actually see even the cute animated version of the folklore. You cannot portray Roku more as a perpetrator of the genocide and Bumi as the evil king when in truth he’s the mad king who’s known for his genius ways of teaching. I hated that. Plus, reducing Zhao’s authority and taking Uncle Iroh’s sarcastic attitude is just meh. Mai again doesn’t even seem perfect as a cast. Jet is good as far as the aesthetics are concerned but Jet being in Omashu doesn’t even sit right with me. The amalgamation of multiple storylines creates so much confusion and this persists till the end.

4. Bending at convenience

We all know how Katara’s bending progressed throughout the first season and it’s little effort each day. However, in series, one day she’s unable to bend even a droplet of water and the next day she is capable of producing ice crystals. This was unacceptable for me because I was anticipating her learning strategies. Besides, Aang doesn’t learn much water bending throughout this season and in the end, it’s him being the savior in Avatar state. Thoughtless bending sucks despite the great VFX and that’s one thing at which you can’t convince me otherwise.

5. Forced friendships

We all know how it took some time for Sokka to embrace Aang as a chum. However, here Sokka keeps on calling him “the kid” and remains mostly alienated from Aang. Talking to Katara, then she also seems more interested in helping Avatar fulfill his goal than being with a friend. I hated the scene where Aang comes into the Avatar state and instead of hugging him just like in the OG series, Katara runs along Sokka and keeps on calling his name. How is that going to build any organic friendship? I think the first mistake began right from the very moment when Aang was taken back to Wolf Cove on a boat in his unconscious state. Upon opening his eyes, the first person he finds near him is neither Katara nor Sokka but a tribesman who’s playing guessing games. Writers were really high when they wrote that.

6. Lack of the four nations’ biodiversity

Maybe in live action, it’s difficult to create all the marvels of the four nations when we talk about their natural biodiversity. In the OG series, it is indicated by Aang that even after 112 years, he has still not forgotten the animals that define different regions in the four kingdoms and that’s exactly why he wants to finish those “important tasks” alongside saving the world. His important tasks included keeping a check on the natural biodiversity of the lands and exploring whether the Hundred Years’ War had not damaged the majestic animals. Actually, his first dialogue right after regaining consciousness is to go for an otter penguin’s ride with Katara. When I thought about that I felt that somewhere in Aang’s mind he was always connected to nature and that’s why he wanted to regain that connection by being an avatar. Sadly we never see much of the biodiversity but I hoped that maybe they will.

Also, how come Aang had that silent whistle for one hundred years when in the series he only discovers that accidentally? I missed the OG Yip Yip for our Appa. There are lots and lots of problems with the Netflix version, and no I am not being a nitpicker. I appreciate how the current creators credited the original ones, but now I know why Bryan and Michael bade farewell to this project. On a scale of 10, it’s a 4 for me or 4.5 if I am being too generous.

If I am asked to review the live action in a single line, I would only say this:

“The Netflixed ATLA makes you go back to the OG series and you end up watching the animation to give your mind a much-needed respite from a carefully crafted artistic disaster aimed at the sensationalized generation.”

[withonly-sweetheart]

Only Love Can Break Your Heart

You've had enough of not being your own person. You aren't a division of him, your husband, nor the women he sleeps with when he's bored of you.

a/n: if you haven't read the book by katherine webber GO READ IT NOW ITS SO GOOD I CANT EVEN WITH YOU !! this is inspired by that except married couple divorce not really uh yeah i needed to get those out of my system to work on requests!

tw: angst, no happy ending, mentions of smut, non explicit nsfw, mentions of drinking problems, alcohol, stuff yada yada

wc: 1.7k

When you called him from the city, you knew even despite his grumbling of the long drive, he would still make it. Still take his rusty old car all the way out here, just for you, to plead for your forgiveness. Without meaning to, you’d memorized every part of him.

That’s how you knew he’d changed.

The man sitting next to you, hands gripping the steering wheel tight, jaw set in parallel to the tight lines around his lips, pain coursing through the burnished planes of his cheekbones, setting flame to the skin you once longed to touch.

As you watch him drive, the silence between you feels heavy with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. You can feel the distance growing, like a vast chasm separating the two of you. His eyes, once the most gentle shade of the sea, now seem distant and guarded.

“Stop looking at me,” he grits out from behind his teeth.

“I’m not,” you say softly, gaze fixing on his hands.

“I can feel it.”

“Do you feel guilty yet?”

The edge of his lip curls. “No, because I don’t know why the fuck you’re mad at me!”

But he knows he’s lying.

He knows exactly what he did.

<><><><>

You thought it would be just another casual Sunday afternoon, popcorn punctuating the muffled TV in the other room. You kicked off your slippers, lounged carelessly on the couch, waited for Leon to come home.

But he’s three hours late, three thousand ticks of the clock away from when you expected him, and when he stumbles through the door, the only way you can tell he’s drunk is the slight lean he has, wobbling to the left as he slumps into your arms.

Your foot taps a rapid pace on the wooden floor, arms crossed, uninviting. You’ve been awaiting a drinking problem, you know his past, but you weren’t expecting it so soon.

First come the tears. Your husband is a dramatic man, and although you’ve waved off an occasional drink or two, the heartfelt apologies whispered between your thighs, he’s wasted enough to let those walls come crashing down, tumbling all around you, leaving only the remnants of the sea pooling in your sweatshirt.

Then, after he’s wiped his eyes and gained enough courage to look at you, come the profuse apologies that slip past his lips, wind down your shoulders and prod your chest, seeking forgiveness from your heart. So accustomed to the quiet, obedient life you had both been living, you don’t give it easily.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t mean to, I swear. I just couldn’t stop thinking that maybe it was you, and maybe our life is a bit boring, and maybe you do the same things sometimes and don’t tell me, and she said it was all okay-”

“She?” you interrupt, voice far too gentle. “Who’s she?”

"She... she was just a distraction," he stammers, his eyes pleading for understanding. "I didn't mean for it to happen, I swear. It was stupid, I know, please, don't leave me. I love you, I'm so sorry."

His words echo hollowly in the empty space, each syllable a dagger twisting in your bloody chest. Tears trace paths down your cheeks, rivers of sorrow as you look up at him, bleary eyed, trying to comprehend why he would ruin everything.

"I trusted you," you whisper, your voice barely above a broken sob. "I thought we had something real, something worth fighting for. How could you do this to us?"

His silence is deafening, a stark contrast to the cacophony of emotions that swim through your legs, rendering them useless. You feel lightheaded, dizzy, and some small part of you wants to blame yourself.

It must be your fault, the voice taunts, pleads, even. You were just too boring for him. You can change, can’t you?

You find yourself standing on the precipice of what could change your life, a rocky cliff, toes poking out against the edge. What would your life be without him?

"Please, it won't happen again," he pleads, his voice cracking. "I swear, I'll do whatever it takes to make this right. I love you more than anything, and I can't bear the thought of losing you."

A part of you longs to believe him, to cling to the hope that this nightmare could be just a momentary lapse in judgment, a cruel twist of fate. His fingers are creeping around your waist, snagging you like a fish on a hook.

In a way, you assume, you are as gullible as that.

With a heavy heart and a trembling voice, you whisper, "Okay, I trust you." The words taste bitter on your tongue, a bitter pill swallowed in the idea that you’re only trying to salvage what’s left.

But deep down, a seed of doubt blooms into a thorny vine that wraps itself around your wounded heart. Can trust truly be rebuilt from the ashes of his thin apologies, or are you simply setting yourself up for more heartache down the road?

You shake your head as he disappears into the bathroom and the sound of running water covers up your soft sniffles. There’s a determined, confident, trustful smile on your face that only seems slightly forced.

Leon’s a good man.

It won’t happen again. 

<><><><>

But it happens again, and again, until all you come home to is the draft blowing in through the vent and a cluttered house. You suppose you should be grateful you’ve never had children. It’s happened so many times.

And every time, you forgive him like a bitch in heat, like a teenage girl so desperate for him, for your fake image of love, even when you know he’s toying with you. Did he ever care? You fool yourself into believing that when he pushes you into the wrinkled, old cotton sheets, or when he buys you those fragrances you eye whenever he takes you out to shop.

You’ve forgotten the meaning of love, what it means to be cared for, how it feels to be cherished. In his eyes, those beautiful, sullen eyes, you are nothing but another responsibility, another burden, another chore.

You want it to stop. You want to stop feeling this way. So you turn the tables on him, that night, when the door creaks open and his footfalls echo through the house, it's empty.

There’s a note left on the table from you, signed in that sweet, loopy handwriting you thought he admired. Leon… blah blah blah, visiting friends, need some time to myself… all just empty thoughts from a mind that knows nothing but pain.

The letter ends up in the bin that day just before he calls one of the numbers saved in his phone. It lies there, forgotten, as the sounds of muted kisses seem to crinkle it even more.

<><><><>

You watch them in the taxi, through the camera you had set up in the houseplant that you knew Leon never bothered to look at. Is that all you are to him? A drooping aloe vera, lost all its nutrition and sun, useless?

They make out wildly, planting kisses everywhere, and you realize that maybe he never loved you to begin with. Maybe this was all just a joke to him. You can see the tray of cookies you made last Christmas, when everything seemed fine.

He had pushed you onto the island, crowding between your legs, grinning up at you. “You know I hate all that sugary shit,” he had whispered, nosing the area between your neck and jaw.

“Should’ve replaced it with salt, then,” you mumble to yourself, biting your lip to suppress the sob that claws at your throat. You exit the app, then delete it. 

You’re never going back.

Leon’s not a very good man.

<><><><>

Your nights are restless, tossing and turning, when your friend groans and flicks on the lamp, expression immediately softening at your pained eyes.

She gathers you in her arms, lets you cry into her, soaking up your agony. You’re glad she doesn’t chastise you, tell you how she had seen this coming ages ago. Maybe you should start listening to your friends when they warn you about men.

He tries to reach out to you, to bridge the gap that has formed between you both, but each time you pull away, walls impenetrable with your friend standing guard behind them. The ache in your chest grows with each passing moment, a constant reminder of what once was and what can never be again.

You start taking classes again. He had stopped you, deemed it was ‘unladylike’ to be studying. You had agreed with him like a fool, stupidly nodding your head to whatever came from his mouth.

Your friend is there through everything. You only wish you had told her how much you appreciated her help when you call Leon, ready to pry him from your thoughts.

<><><><>

You finally reach your destination, the weight of the unspoken goodbye hanging heavy in the air. You know that this is the end, that the love you once shared has turned to ashes. 

“We could’ve made it work,” he argues, once again, running a hand through his darkening hair. Everything about him seems somber now, more depressed. You suspect that the alcohol has finally caught up to him.

And faintly, with pride, you realize that you don’t care.

“You and I both know that’s a lie,” you seethe. “We were never going to work, because I will always be too boring for you. Just a toy, right? I’m done with your shit!”

You don’t let him get the last word. That would nag you far too much. So you walk away from him, from the image of you that clung to him every waking moment, your back a silent farewell.

If he had broken up with you, what, a week ago, you would be left alone with the shattered pieces of your heart, knowing that you might always be missing a piece of yourself.

But now…

Now?

You are whole.

[urfavoritegirlkisser]

hiii :) i saw that you’re taking request of hazel so i have one

can you do one about an insecure reader! x hazel usually is her being a lil insecure about being a loser but maybe a reader that may seem very confident about her body and her personality but in reality is super insecure?? idk sorry if it too long !

EEEEEE!!! I love this!! I hope I did ok, I'm still new to writing so hopefully it's good!

Tags: Insecure!Reader, a smidge of insecure!Hazel, fem!reader, fluff, hazel is best gf ever honestly, wlw, girls kissing teehee, lightly proof read, let me know if I missed anything, literally just having the "fuck it we ball" mentality when it comes to writing

"You Are Beautiful to Me" Hazel Callahan x Reader

“I think I come off as annoying and clingy” Hazel says as she looks up from where she lounges on your bed while you get ready for the party at Isabel’s tonight, “I just…I’ve never really had close friends like this before and it’s amazing, but I feel like everyone will realize how much of a loser I am and you’ll all leave me” she says with a sigh

You smile softly as you apply your lip gloss and analyze your outfit in the mirror, “Love, you couldn’t get rid of me even if you wanted to, and I’m sure all of the other girls would agree with me on that statement.” you say and Hazel laughs softly before sitting up and coming to hug you from behind, pressing a few quick kisses to your shoulder.

She rests her head on your shoulder and simply looks at you like you’ve hung the stars in the sky, “I wish I was like you sometimes” she whispers while gently twirling a piece of your hair absentmindedly, “I mean you’re so easy to love, you’re gorgeous, you have so much confidence in yourself and in whatever you do or say, you’re literally perfect”

Hazel presses a kiss to your cheek before leaving your room to go use the bathroom, and it’s only when she’s out of the room that you start picking yourself apart.

You don’t know why you do this, maybe it was the constant feeling of needing to be perfect as Hazel and so many others say you are.

Your eyeliner isn’t even, this skirt highlights how bloated you are, you can practically feel yourself get overwhelmed as you tug at your clothes, try to fix your hair, try to feel as pretty as Hazel says you are. You just…don’t.

You didn’t mean to work yourself up so much but when Hazel returns, her smile falters at the sight of tears streaming down your face which you quickly wipe away and plaster on a smile.

“You ready?” you ask, trying to act like your skin doesn’t feel uncomfortable, like your shoes don’t pinch your toes from how tight they feel, but Hazel just keeps that concerned look on her face.

“Baby? What’s wrong? Did something happen?” she asks, quickly walking up and holding your face gently while wiping the last remnants of your tears away.

You laugh softly, “Haze I’m fine, really” you try to say with your normal confidence, but your emotions choose to betray you as fresh tears well up in your eyes and you’re walls crumble while Hazel just pulls you into a tight hug.

She brings you to the bed so the two of you can sit while she holds you in her arms, stroking your hair soothingly, pressing soft kisses to your head until you’ve calmed down a little and can look up at her.

“I’m so tired of being perfect” you whisper, the lump of emotions in your throat threatening to bubble up once more but she just holds you firmly against her chest one more and rocks you gently.

“Love, you don’t have to be perfect all the time” she says softly against your hair, “Oh honey, I’m so sorry if I ever made you feel that way”

The two of you stay that way for awhile as you finally let your walls down and tell her about all of these insecurities you have kept bottled up as she just listens, rubbing your back comfortingly while you finally spill your heart to her fully.

You both sit in silence for a moment before she speaks again, “You know my favorite part about you is how you snort when you laugh really hard” she says as you groan into her chest.

“Haze, I literally sound like a pig” you say trying to hide yourself in her shoulder but she pulls you away and holds your face as a blush starts to spread across your face from how intense her stare is.

“And I love it, I love how your nose scrunches when you are focused, how your blush takes over your entire face” she says between pressing kisses to your face, “I love how you bite your nails when you are nervous, I love how you jump up and down when you’re excited, I love the stretch marks on your arms, I love your freckles, I love everything about you” Hazel says as you start to giggle at the many kisses she dots along your skin.

“I don’t want a perfect girlfriend, I want you” she whispers before kissing you gently on the lips

“I want you too, Haze” you say softly

an: I hope this was good! Remember to drink water you girl kissers, and send in requests!

[baurbiediv]

we’ll be alright

— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —

summary: following the aftermath of you and jj’s upsetting breakup, he’s determined to set everything straight and have you back by his side, but what you feel isn’t the same way jj feels, but he’s not ready to let you go, not yet.

pairing: jj maybank x ex!gf reader

warning(s): language, mention of cheating, jj still being very painfully stupid and painfully in love with reader, fluff if you squint, takes place in s3 (switched some things around for the usual outer banks theme)

authors note: long overdue & possibly the longest fic i’ve ever written?? + it’s been a bittersweet road down this ‘hate to be lame’ series, i’m so glad you all enjoyed it as much as i did, without further ado, let’s wrap this thang up!!

authors note ²: italics represent flashbacks, bolded italics represent emphasized words, somewhat based off fine line by harry styles

— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —

the humid wind of the outer banks had been blowing softly against your skin, the faint light of the setting sun could be seen vividly as you sat on the creaky old porch steps of the chateau.

the entirety of the pogues had been teetering on the edge of completely falling apart, with john b and sarah’s relationship was on the rocks, then you and jj being no longer together.

the entire friend group was crashing down on each other, you’d grown distant from them when it was first revealed that you’d parted ways with the blond boy.

nobody would’ve ever seen it coming, the two of you tried immensely to salvage what remnants of your relationship that was left, but it didn’t work.

ultimately, you both split your ways. for a while the pogues had no clue what was going on, they thought you needed some time for yourself for personal reasons, until, jj had told them the truth.

-

“i hate to tell you guys like this, but me and y/n are uh .. we’re not together anymore. it was kind of a ‘mutual’ agreement between the both of us.” jj said, twirling his thumbs around each other, he couldn’t bring himself to see the looks on his friends faces, the gut wrenching sensation of silence was heavy and thick in the air.

“wait, jayj, you’re being serious?” sarah asked him as she leaned against the old wooden door of the porch, she thought it was some sick joke at first, but the look jj gave her, the hint of worry became very obvious on her face.

jj just simply nodded, “come on, you guys have been through so much, we can’t lose y/n and we can’t lose you either jj.” pope now replied, putting a hand on his friend’s shoulder in an attempt to console him.

“no, pope, you don’t understand how badly i fucked this up.” jj spoke up as he moved away from his friend, john b was past worried at this point.

“enough of these cryptic ass messages jj, what did you do?” john b pressed him, knowing this was obviously a fragile subject for his friend to be talking about.

cleo noticed the change in jj’s physical appearance, he sat upright from his previous slouched position.

“i cheated on y/n .. with kiara.” he spoke lowly, kiara’s figure caved in as she looked down at the porch floor.

the looks on the rest of the pogues faces just as similar to the others.

“wow jj, way to go.” cleo clapped sarcastically, pope and kiara both shot her a glare.

“look i don’t know why you’re giving me that look, you’re just as guilty kiara. you knew that was wrong.” cleo bit back at the two before crossing her arms.

-

“with the way he keeps looking, his eyes might just literally fall out of his face.” cleo said as she peeked back at the boy who’d been playing volleyball past however many minutes.

you simply shrugged, not wanting to mention anything about the boy you’d had past relations with. it wasn’t that jj was a bad guy, he just made one really bad mistake that caused him to lose the thing that he loved the most; you.

at some point in time, you’d thought about forgiving him, but at what cost? on that exact night, jj and kiara had known exactly what they were doing.

“i know it still feels weird for you to be around them, you’ll come around eventually.” she added before slinging an arm around your shoulders, you smiled at the gesture.

“i know i know, it’s a bittersweet feeling when it comes to him. he treated me well, but he kissed my alleged best friend and she couldn’t even tell me.” you exhaled, cleo nodded.

���i get it girl, trust me, it’s not something easy to get over, but i know you well enough to see you get over this like it’s nothing.” cleo chimed in, she was right, no matter how much your heart yearned for him deep down, you couldn’t put yourself in a position to be where you once were.

“thank you cleo, i really do mean it. thank you for not letting me go crazy.” you laughed as you looked over at her.

“if i let you go crazy, then we all go crazy,” she cheesed, “now come here!” she said before engulfing you in a tight and comforting hug.

the two of you pulled away from the hug and walked back to the makeshift volleyball net that john b and pope had made.

“hey! we got dibs next!” cleo yelled to everyone else, john b and sarah smiled seeing the both of you come into view.

“y’all ready to get your asses beat?” sarah spoke as the ball rested between her arm and her side. cleo and you gave each other a look before turning your gazes back over to sarah.

“when was the last time you beat this duo in volleyball?” you spoke up, pope smiled as he chimed in, “literally never.”

you clapped at his words as you and cleo walked up to the net, “heads we serve, tails you serve!” sarah smiled, pope pulled out a coin from his pocket as he flipped it, heads.

“oh come on that’s gotta be rigged in someway.” you said out loud groaning and throwing your hands up in the air. sarah shook her head, “don’t hate the ref! hate the game!”

the blonde said as she laughed and tossed the ball back to john b, who was ready to serve the ball. you watched as the ball was tossed up into the air and made it’s way to your side, you set the ball up as cleo spiked it, which smacked john b directly in his eye.

your hands clamped over your mouth and so did cleo’s as you looked at each other in an attempt to stifle your laughter, pope’s giggling could be heard loudly and so could sarah’s.

the brunet boys body laid on the ground dramatically, you and pope collectively sent a look so each other as you helped john b up off the ground and helped him into the chateau.

you could feel jj’s eyes burning a hole in your back but you refused to acknowledge it as you focused on your best friends attention.

“has anyone ever told you how dramatic you are john b?” you yelled from the kitchen finding him an ice pack, the question was followed by a groan and ‘no but thanks for telling me.’

you patted his shoulder before leaving the house with pope, “that was a nasty spike cleo.”

“hey hey, maybe if he put his hands up he wouldn’t have gotten hit!”

-

the next morning rolled around, you woke up on the couch next to sarah, you couldn’t recognize the feeling of the light blue fuzzy blanket or where it had come from but you were thankful for it as the light morning breeze had flown in through the slightly cracked window.

the sound of the fridge door closing snapped you out of your thoughts, to your dismay it was one of the last people to wanted to talk to, jj.

his bedhead was very prominent, yet the only thing you could focus on the way his sharktooth necklace that rested oh-so delicately on his chest.

you remembered the fabricated lie he told you about how he got it when you first met him.

“take a picture, it’ll last longer.” he said without looking your way. you rolled your eyes before sitting up and rubbing the sleep away from your eyes, “please shut up, you cheat-“, john b emerged from his room at almost the perfect time, cutting you off.

“please put your claws away, it’s boat day and i don’t want to hear you two bickering all day.” he mumbled, walking past jj.

you smacked your lips together, “well he started it! -“, john b turned towards you, “and i don’t wanna hear it.”

jj snickered behind his friend as the brunet turned to his friend, “cut it out jj.” the blond threw his hands up to his sides as if he was the innocent one.

you got up from your spot on the couch as you made your rounds to wake everyone up and to your surprise it was easy. you walked out the chateau and down the old porch steps with sarah and cleo laughing about who knows what. john b & pope followed behind with kie and jj.

“you know you wouldn’t be able to ignore her forever. right?” pope said loud enough for only for the four of them to hear which made both kie and jj stop in their tracks and turn around.

“look i know but it’s gonna take some time for me to y’know, say something..”kie mumbled, kicking the dirt. john b looked at jj for an answer, to which he got no reply.

“jj, y/n really loved you and you loved her, and for you to sit here and not say anything is kinda crazy considering you cried day and night when you lost her.”

this had the boy shaking his head and shoving his finger into his friends chest. “you don’t get to bring that up jb. it’s not your place and you know that.”

the stomach churning feeling of guilt and broken trust was heavy in between the four of them. “guys let’s go!” you yelled out from the dock already loaded up on the hms pogue, you waved to the others.

“think about what was said.” pope spoke up before leaving to the boat.

-

boat days were truthfully some of the best days you’d had. being out on the water with the some of the people you love loved. the sound of your screams and laughter along with the sounds of sarah, john b, cleo, and pope’s laughter could be heard throughout the marsh.

jj’s eyes followed your every move, it’s almost as if he was jealous of the way your smile shined brightly when you weren’t around him, his heart crumbled at almost the way you looked when you weren’t smiling his way.

the boy didn’t know why he was acting like this, he felt himself spiraling. being in love with someone was never a thing that crossed his until he met you.

a hand on his shoulder snapped him out of his thoughts, he looked over to see a concerned kiara, “you okay?” she said, almost in a whisper.

the boy shrugged as he turned back around and rubbed his hands across his face.

“you can’t act like you hate her forever j. pope and jb were right, and i know it’s hypocritical of me to say that.” she said, the boy sighed deeply and kiara frowned, “you can act mad all you want but you know deep down that you still love that girl. we all know it, i’ve got my rounds of apologizing to do and so do you. so get to it.”

the brunette girl said before patting his shoulder and jumping out of the boat into the water to join everyone else.

“this is gonna be a long night.” he groaned.

-

the group all piled into the cat’s ass as you prepared for a night of what is hoped to be filled with fun. just about everyone had been on their 2nd or 3rd drink of the night and it had been made clear that someone would wake up with a real bad hangover the next morning.

you sat with sarah while giggling over the boys who huddled together and where swaying side to side. “what are the odds that pope’s the drunkest right now? 1 through 5.” cleo says holding up cups of fruit punch and hands them out, kiara right by her side.

“4.” you blurt out.

“3.” sarah says, taking a sip from her cup.

kiara laughs as pope turns around, his leg poked out to the side and his hands right on his hips, following a look of ‘i did not just hear that’. you looked at the boy, but you couldn’t tell if he was actually offended or just simply being dramatic.

the boys made their way over to the cat’s ass and they all slip in with no ease. you were mid conversation with sarah before you felt splashes of water and an arm brush against your back.

obviously, you’d had your back turned to the foreign body but you already knew who it was. sarah could see the visible change in your face when she recognized who it was.

“hi y/nnnnn.” the boy slurred as he rested his chin on your shoulder and wrapped his arms around your waist. the water from the hot tub now going cold.

you send sarah a look of help, her lips spread into a thin line as she mouthed you a ‘good luck’, knowing she’d have to deal with john b. everyone had left the cat’s ass at this point, just leaving just you and jj.

knowing you couldn’t ignore him forever, you put on your big girl panties and suck it up. “hi jj.” you said, you had felt like your mind was truly running a mile a minute.

it would short circuit as you thought of the multitude of things that could come out of his mouth in this exact moment.

“has anyone ever told you how pretty you are?” he murmurs before the tip of his nose lightly digs into your shoulder.

drunk words are sober thoughts, or so they say.

“yeah i have actually, by this blond kid, i know pretty well.” you sigh as jj huffs somewhat very loudly. your eyebrow raised at the sudden change of the boy’s mood, “can he fight?” jj questioned.

the laugh that erupted from your mouth was unexpected and loud, you quickly put your hands up in defense. “woah maybank,” you said before standing up and setting your drink down, “time to wind down now.”

you leaned down slightly to help the boy out of the hot tub, his arms reached up to grab at your waist once again just to pull you down into his lap, his grip on you tight and keeping you grounded in his lap.

“don’t leave.” he whispers, your hands wrapped lazily around his neck, you felt guilty.

you told yourself many times you’d stay away from this for the benefit of your own good.

his head leaned further into your chest, your hand planting itself in his hair, smoothly running your nails across his scalp lightly.

“i’m not leaving j, i promise,” you sighed and placed your chin on the top of his. “now, let’s get you in the house and to bed, safely.” you said, making sure to put emphasis on safely.

the worst thing that could happen now would be one of the pogues spotting you and jj going into his room. by the looks of it, the living room lights had been turned off, which meant that it was lights out, everyone was asleep.

jj followed behind you languidly, his heavy footsteps quieter than usual. getting past the front door was the easiest part, getting him to the bedroom was the more difficult task of this all.

the creaky floor boards made your presence well known had anyone in the house been up. jj looked over his shoulder, kiara on one end of the couch fast asleep, pope & cleo asleep together on the other end of the couch, wrapped up in that same stupid light blue fuzzy blanket.

your footsteps hurried their way to jj’s bedroom, you closed the door. you had to forcibly sit the blond down on the bed, after quietly arguing with him over you staying in the room, you knew full and well you’d be out the room the minute he was out cold.

you’d walked into the bathroom and grabbed a clean rag, you ran some warm water under it and brought it back to jj. he was sprawled out on the bed, one hand on his chest and the other out and to the side of him.

you sat down next to him and wiped his face, he immediately moved his head. you obnoxiously rolled your eyes and grabbed his face, causing you to now turn your body.

“it’s not even cold!” you whisper shouted and continued to wipe his face as quick as you could before he started whining again. his hand lazily made its way to your thigh, his hands on his rough, just like they had been when you first got together.

you set the towel aside on the nightstand, your hands softly cupped jj’s face and your thumb softly moved back and forth over his cheek, you noticed as we that had been slowly healing for quite some time now, it wasn’t the time to ask, nor was it your place.

the feeling of his hand was still very real and warm on your thigh, every minute that passes by almost feels too good to be true.

“y’know i’m sorry, right?” he says as his eyes look directly yours, this was probably the first time you’d gotten anywhere close to an apology from jj, and it could be the last one and you’d much rather get this apology now than when he is when he’ll be sober.

“i know you are j, i know.” you tell him but he slightly shakes his head.

“no, seriously y/n, i fucked up big time, you know it, i know it, and so does the whole group.” he finally admits, to him it feels like a weights been lifted off his shoulders.

“i really wanna make things right with you, can we, y’know try again? me and you?” he questioned and you smiled.

“i’ll think about it j, until then please get some sleep, yeah?” you momentarily hesitated before pressing a soft kiss against his lips as his hands inch his way back to your hips.

you softly pull away before sitting up, “goodnight maybank.”

“g’night y/l/n.”

you smiled and got up to leave the room, closing the room behind you, what a night.

-

“you’ve got to be fucking serious right?” you nearly scream, you’ve never wanted to pummel your fists into someone’s face more.

john b waiting to hold you back at any moment. “y/n, it’s not really that big of a deal!” kiara yelled back at you. to make things clear, it was that big of a deal, you thought that after the moment you and jj had last night, he’d stick to his words.

“you’re real untrustworthy kiara, that was real grimy of you.” the words came out of your mouth not giving a second thought.

so let’s do a quick little run down; last night kiara snuck in his room just hours after she’d made sure you were asleep, turns out, they had actually fucked.

only way you found that out was the poorly covered burgundy mark right on her neck, it hadn’t been that difficult to put the clues together.

you looked at jj and shoved your hands into his chest, causing him to stumble back a little. “thank you for showing me that it costs you nothing to do better jj.” the disheveled blond clearly didn’t think this ‘elaborate plan’ would’ve actually worked, it was the stupidest fucking fool-proofed plan known ever.

you shoved him again, “do you get off to making me look stupid? is that fucking it?” you spat, jj groaned, and in an attempt to stop you from shoving him.

“will you please just listen to me. i can explain.” his hands grabbed your arms and this only pisses you off even more.

you did your best and fought to get out his grip, “i don’t want to listen to or hear another word that comes out of your mouth because everything that comes out is a lie.” you felt like you could physically feel your throat start to close up, the dam in your eyes broke and the tears flooded like there was no tomorrow.

john b couldn’t stand there and watch one of his best friends break down like this, so he gestured over sarah and cleo as they took you to the twinkie and got you inside.

sarah hopped into the driver’s seat as she pulled off, you should’ve known better than to trust what jj says. yet here you stand, the same place you stood when he first broke your trust, it was way too good to be true.

the love gods were definitely not on your side and wouldn’t be on your side any time soon, what did you even do for them to not like you? who knows.

you don’t know when the van tatted moving but you sure were notified when it came to a screeching halt as you were launched into the back of the passenger seat face first, the loud thud made your impact known, hearing gasps from the two girls who sat in front of you, they quickly turned around as they saw you laid out on the twinkie floor.

“y/n, holy shit! are you okay?!” sarah said as she got out and rushed over to the other side and opened the door. you groaned and sat up, rubbing your face, a poor attempt to get rid of the pain, which only made it worse.

you looked up at cleo and sarah who were giving you a ‘ouch’ kind of look, “how bad is it?” you sighed.

“bad.” they both replied.

-

you walked along the streets of the mainland, holding a bag of frozen peas to the side of your face.

“y/n i’m really really sorry.” sarah said, the guilt wavering in her voice.

you laughed, “sarah, i promise you it’s okay. it’s probably gotta be the highlight of my day!” if cleo and sarah hadn’t known you as well as they did, then they’d definitely thought that you were insane.

you saw the looks on their faces, “guys please don’t. you’re doing that thing you guys do when you know what i’m thinking about.” you frowned and sat on a nearby bench, dropping the peas into your lap.

the girls plopping down on either side of you, “i feel so incredibly stupid.” you spoke as tears dropped down onto the fabric of your jeans.

both girls hugged you, words would’ve never been wrong express how thankful you are for them.

“you’re an incredibly strong girl y/n, you don’t need him to be happy. your first job is to prioritize yourself over anyone else’s needs.”

sarah told you, you nodded as cleo’s hand came up to your face and wiped your tears away, “we wouldn’t sit here and tell you it’s true if it wasn’t.” cleo told you and you nodded.

“what would i do without you guys.” you said you pulled them into a tight hug.

“you know we got your back forever girl.” cleo says.

once you made it back to the chateau, the three of you got out the twinkie uncontrollably like a bunch of kids. in the distance you could smell the bonfire, “guys oh my god i could really go for some s’mores right now!” sarah said as she patted her belly which made you and cleo both laugh at the same time as the three of you walked over to the billowing smoke and found john b and pope sitting on a log.

“what’s going on here?” cleo asked, the boys turned around, looking like they’d been through it all.

“my god what the hell happened to you guys? where’s kiara and jj?” sarah asked, examining jb’s face for any bruises, only to find a small scratch just above his eyebrow.

you mentally rolled your eyes at the slight mention of both kiara and jj’s names, you quite honestly wanted nothing to do with them.

if timing couldn’t have been any worse, the roaring sound of a bike engine catches everyone’s attention forcing them to completely turn around in unison, who else to make an entrance like that other than the infamous jj.

“oh you’ve seriously got to be fucking kidding me.” pope groans in annoyance and throws his hands up in the air before getting up. jj takes his helmet off before tossing it to the ground and getting off his bike, turning the engine off.

jj eagerly makes his way to where you all are and stops in his tracks, he was messing with his knuckles or possibly punched something or someone, his knuckles were battered and bloody.

“and where the hell have you been!” pope exclaimed, seeing pope this angry was something out of the ordinary for you. the blond was at a lost for words, this time he look like he’d truly been hurt by someone or something.

“let me tell you something about yourself man, i get it none of us are perfect, but the way you flipped out on me and jb? not cool man, not fucking cool. and you know it too.”

pope said, you could feel the anger radiating off of him. you could visibly observe how much of a nervous wreck jj was in this moment. “hold on pope, something’s off, real off.” you spoke up, not sure if you should speak behalf.

“what’s going on with you jj?” you said, his eyes were full of worry. he knows that he’s messed up and he himself isn’t sure if his friends, the people he needs and loves the most will ever forgive him.

“i got into some shit with my dad a-and we fought-“ the slam of a car door grabbed everyone’s attention and whipped towards the sound, it was kiara, hopping out her car and towards the rest of you.

before anything else she saw jj’s face as her face dropped. her hands came up to his face, the rest of you watched in confusion, you rolled as you walked away, refusing to see the couple in front of you.

your life truly couldn’t have gotten worse in those last few minutes.

-

your legs dangled over the dock as you watched the moonlight hit the water. looking out, you could barely see anything within 20 feet of you.

the wind carried a cold breeze that brought goosebumps across your arms. suddenly you heard footsteps to the side of you, jj.

you groaned out loud and got up, “no! please y/n, sit, please.” he begged, you shook your head and put a hand in front of you, he could see that you were tired, physically and emotionally.

“i don’t want another apology from you jj, every time you promise me something it goes way left. the other night sealed it all, no one else took care of you but me. why do you keep doing this to me? what did i do? you hurt me on levels no one could ever imagine.”

the feeling before you cry all too familiar, the sudden lump in your throat and the salty tears that overflow your waterline.

“y/n, please-“ he tried to hold your hand but you pulled away.

“you never loved me, you enjoyed being seen with me. i’ve seen the way you look at kiara, i really hope that you treat her the way you should treat someone.” you looked at him and he was the one shaking his head.

“you gotta believe me when i say i’m trying y/n, you know what i’m going through. it’s tough for me and i’m trying to manage my life around it, i couldn’t image my life without you in it.” he said as he grabbed both of your hands, the hands you found your solace in, now feeling unfamiliar to you.

you inhaled deeply, your breath shaky and tears uncontrollable, “i want to believe that jj, i really do. i can’t continue to put myself in a position where i continue to be hurt over and over again. be with someone who will be able to love you unconditionally.”

the tremble in your voice was painfully clear and heartbreaking to not only you, but jj.

you smiled as jj’s thumb lightly swiped across your cheek to wipe away a stray tear, your eyes were watery beyond relief, and so were his.

you would’ve given this boy the world, had he only given you the chance to. providing the best for each other was the only way that you and jj could have a healthy relationship with each other.

you took a deep breath and slipped away from his touch, you smiled at him before walking away to prevent any more tears that would slip out.

jj watched as you walked away from the dock and into the chateau, yet of course, he’d eventually find himself crying.

of course you’d still be around, he just wouldn’t get the chance to hold you on the colder nights, falling down a rabbit hole of endless deep conversations. he would never be able to fall in love with you all over again.

he didn’t expect for any of this to happen, the only one that he ever really loved. the girl he thought he would spend the rest of his life with, the memories and all the love they’d given each other, slipping right through his fingers.

the world was crashing down on the two, they knew that they would be better off without each other.

oh how they wished time could rewind and they could redo everything, but this was the best for them.

it would forever be y/n & jj.

“we’ll be alright.”

[lizzyscribbles]

You know what I realized yesterday through an event that I desire to never deal with again in my entire life?? Toga’s parents really did suck.

Today’s Rambling Thought: Toga, and why her parents deserve hell.

Picture this, it’s the evening, I’m getting ready to get on a discord call with my friend because we’ve been watching MHA together and we usually chat between episodes (it’s their first time watching the show, we’re in season three). I go to use the bathroom and what do I find?? Remnants!!! Of a bird!! I’m not talking about a few feathers here, I’m talking bones, a pile of internal organs, and a half mutilated wing covered in blood and God knows what else. Completely dismembered. Of course, there are two potential culprits in this crime scene, both cats. (I should mention these aren’t my cats, I was watching them for a friend), but I’m pretty sure the one circling my feel and meowing proudly is the one. So, I get to clean up bird guts at like 8PM, trying my hardest not to gag.

AND YOU KNOW WHAT I DID TO THE POTENTIAL CRIMINAL??

Nothing. I patted his head and gave him a scratch.

All this delightful context to put into perspective this realization that came to me later that night, how is it that I - someone who actually had to clean up a mutilated bird - nicer to a cat that ISN’T MY OWN than Toga’s parents were TO THEIR OWN DAUGHTER. Now I’m no saint, and I realize a cat and a human are completely different, but come on, for real guys?

I don’t think we’re told how old Toga is in the scene where she’s offering her parents the bird (if you know please share) but we know she’s a little kid. Like I’ve said before, I’m studying psychology in college and I worked with kids in foster care, so if I know anything at all it’s this: Children are little sponges, and they automatically want to do whatever it is you tell them not to do. It’s a natural part of development, and actually something we don’t really lose as we get older (the specific term is rebel psychological reactance I think). So it’s really no surprise that after years and years of being told nothing but no when it came to these urges she had, she eventually just snapped. The kids I worked with were the same, the longer they were in the shelter I worked at the less they felt inclined to listen when we told them no, and I don’t think I need to explain why that’s dangerous.

Now, I’m not saying that consuming another’s blood as a child or gnawing on yourself in your sleep is normal behavior or something a parent shouldn’t be concerned about, but there’s a reason therapy focuses on replacing negative coping skills with positive ones. Did they ever go beyond just calling her weird and creepy? Did they take her to a doctor get a blood test and find out if maybe there’s a reason she was doing this beyond just being freaky? Does she have an iron deficiency?? I’m just rambling now and that’s pure speculation, but no, they just kinda insulted her over and over, told her not to, and sent her to quirk counseling which IS NOT a substitute for actual therapy I’m sure. The bottom line here is that you can’t take something away and not add anything in. You can’t tell someone not to do something and not supplement it with something else.

It’s little wonder that once she snapped, she went straight to “I just want to do whatever I want”, because she spent her whole life being told not to be something. I think it’s easy to forget that Toga is still legally a child at the start of the series, one who has not been taught how to safely deal with her urges. No wonder she felt more at home with the league of villains, they gave her what she never got. No wonder Ochaco’s actions in the final chapter shocked her so much. She was never accepted for who she was until then. She was never treated like she was a normal person.

The people who were supposed to love her most in the world saw her as a disease to be rid of, and I that disgusts me more than a dead bird ever will.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk, I’m gonna go ramble about how, as an author and a fan, I love her end even if it makes me so sad, and Ochaco’s part in it.