#have to do conf work

[bakingrecipe]

Hi how are you doing

im fine but i have so much to do

[kayayayayayayayayayayayaya]

I dreamed that I was in a cooking completion and I had to team up with Wei Wuxian and Xie Lian.

Once we where done with the 'cooking' I was asked to talk about what we made and the process.

I was so out of my element that I just said the first words that came to mind "Laxatives and Geräte (machines)" and Xie Lian just echoed it with such enthusiasm that I woke up from shock.

Which surprisingly happens a lot with the dreams I have so I just think of it as me dieing of shock in the dream.

[ugh-yoongi]

ex-conomics | csc

you supported seungcheol through years of being an aspiring athlete, and all you got to show for it was your undergraduate degree and an awkward, stuttered apology when he dumped you to go semi-pro. now he’s back after an injury derailed his career, and there’s only one problem: you’re the only one available to tutor him. you - 0; the universe - 1. talk about no return on investment.

⚽ pairing: choi seungcheol x f. reader ⚽ genre: exes to (lite) enemies to lovers; university au; angst, fluff ⚽ rating: while there is nothing explicit in this fic, there are two brief references to smut. while i can't stop anyone from reading this, i would prefer minors do not interact with this or any of my work. ⚽ warnings: cheol is some degree of famous, reader is a grad student/TA, mentions of an injury and coping with the aftermath of it, lots of economics talk that even i do not understand, swearing, one mention of alcohol, some misplaced jealousy, rom-com tropes, dino is kind of a loser but we love him anyway. probably a lot of other things i missed, but this is actually pretty tame for a fic of this length. ⚽ word count: 13.4k ⚽ thank you: a lot of people looked this over for me in the process and i'm sure i will forget some of them so if i do i'm sorry: @the-boy-meets-evil, @hot-soop, @highvern, and @haologram, who also gave me some wonderful ideas for the vlogs. thank you to MIT for opencourseware existing. i took microeconomics and dropped it, so i couldn't have done this without you. everyone in the discord server for helping me along the way and keeping me motivated. ⚽ author's note: i haven't posted a fic in nearly seven months, so i think it goes without saying that there are parts of this i like and a lot more i'm not 100% happy with. i'd love if this was more fleshed out and 10k longer, but i was able to write anything at all so it's good enough. this was written for the back to school with seventeen collab, hosted by @camandemstudios. thank you both for letting me participate! please make sure to check out the rest of the stories! everyone worked so hard and this collab was a ton of fun to participate in. <3

You look down at the paper. Back up at who handed it to you. Down at the paper again.

“You’ve got to be joking.”

The poor freshman kid laughs, all nerves, and even though the sound is grating, you remember what it’s like to be forced into work study. How far away graduate school seemed; how large your professors loomed over you with all their power and knowledge and credentials; how you constantly felt like the dumbest person in nearly every room you walked into for four straight years.

“Um—”

You sigh, just barely resisting the urge to slam your head onto your desk. “I—it’s fine, don’t worry about it.” Your words do little to ease Freshman’s nerves. He’s still hunched over in the doorway of your office, wringing his hands as he shifts his weight back and forth, in for a lifetime of body pain with the way he’s squaring his shoulders. “You’re sure about this, though? Like, I’m really not being set up?”

“I don’t think so?” he offers, slowly starting to turn green right before your eyes. “Dr. Lee ga-gave me the paperwork himself, I don’t think he would’ve messed it up? Oh no, did I mess it up? Should I go back to Student Services and conf—”

Good god, this kid’s anxiety is gonna stink up your office for weeks. “No need!” you interject. “I’ll just…” Sign it, you want to say, but the longer you stare at the sheet of paper the quicker you’re losing your resolve.

TUTORING REQUEST FORM Student Name: Choi Seungcheol Degree: Undergraduate Major: Business Course: ECON04101 Introduction to Microeconomics Instructor: Lee Yeonseok, PhD. Recommended Tutoring: High (3-4 hours per week)

You curse under your breath. Of the two names on the paper, Dr. Lee’s does not come as a surprise. He’s a notorious hard-ass with an infamous attrition rate—most students don’t last more than a week in any of his classes—but he’s also the sole reason you were able to pay for someof your grad school tuition out of pocket with all the tutoring money you made.

That, however, was two years ago.

“Does he know I don’t tutor anymore?” Stupid question. The kid stares blankly back at you, as if to say I don’t know any more than the people in Student Services, let alone Dr. Lee. It is literally my first year here. “I’m Dr. Ahn’s TA this year. I’ve got my hands full with her bullsh… stuff—”

Immediately, you know you’ve said something wrong, because the kid’s eyes light up, all that previous anxiety disappearing like smoke. “Wait, the same Dr. Ahn that teaches the crypto course?”

“No, that one died,” you say quickly. Kid deflates. “Anyway, I don’t really tutor anymore, especially for econ. As you can see”—you gesture vaguely around the cramped four walls of your office—“they’ve upgraded me. They even put my name on a little placard by the door! Go look! They spelled it wrong! If that doesn’t sum up this university I don’t know what does.”

You heave another sigh. Try to school your face and tone into something that exudes professionalism and finality. “Look, I’m sorry I can’t help you. I tutored Dr. Lee’s students for, like, three years in undergrad so I’m sure they just… forgot that wasn’t my actual job here. Who’s in charge of tutoring these days? I’ll shoot them an email and explain all this.”

Freshman gives you a name, and it takes less than a second to find them in the employee directory. You expect that to be the end of it, but he’s still taking up space in your doorway. You quirk an eyebrow. “Yes?”

The hand-wringing returns, along with an embarrassed flush that disappears beneath the neckline of his school-branded sweatshirt. “I just—um. Maybe you could, uh. Send that now? Before I get back there?”

You blink. “Don’t you have to go all the way back across campus? How slow do you think I type?” He shrugs, and you give up on the idea of getting rid of him. “Fine. What’s your name, anyway?”

“Lee Chan. I’m a sophomore. Do you know that guy?”

“Oh. I thought for sure you were a freshman, but you’re gonna need to be more specific, Lee Chan, Sophomore.”

“The guy they want you to tutor.” You freeze. The guy they want you to tutor is—“Choi Seungcheol,” Chan tacks on, and, yeah, you know—knew, you correct yourself—someone with that name, once upon a time.

But there are a lot of Chois and a lot of Seungcheols. It’s been years since you’ve spoken to the Seungcheol you knew, and that was when he’d broken up with you to—“I heard he’s a football player? Well, used to be, I guess. The girls in the office were freaking out so I guess he’s pretty famous, but I don’t know anything about sports, do you? They said they have photocards of him. I thought they only did that for idols.”

You think about being kids together in Daegu. Think about the exasperated looks you’d share when your parents would drag the two of you to festivals: Palgongsan in the autumn, Biseulsan in the spring; transformation and rebirth. Think about being eight years old and watching your father cram into the small space of the Chois’ living room, standing around the TV with Seungcheol’s dad, shouting at Park Jonghwan. Daegu FC made the FA Cup quarterfinals that year, and you think, of everything, that’s what you’ll remember for the rest of your life.

You think about falling in love slowly. Sixteen and clueless, the pair of you were. Didn’t really know any different, just that you’d look at him and feel butterflies. That you’d hold hands in secret. Text beneath the dinner table. That you’d watch him on the football pitch and be consumed by pride. That the future felt impossibly far away, that life would never catch up to the two of you.

You think about all the football jargon you didn’t understand—the academies, the teams, the implications. You think about, I’m thinking about trying out for the FC Seoul U-18, I just don’t think there’s much more I can do here in Daegu. You think about replying, Oh, I applied to university there.

You remember thinking it must’ve been fate, how easy that had worked out. How easy that first hurdle had been overcome.

You think about how fast everything happened. The try-out, the acceptance, the explosion. Remember being unable to go anywhere those first few months without seeing Seungcheol’s face, touted as the next big thing. Think about applying for scholarships when he was applying for international visas. Think about studying for midterms when Seungcheol was studying English for interviews.

You think about the last few weeks of your relationship, when it felt like you were desperately trying to cling to ghosts. Think about how Seoul had once felt endlessly big, both in opportunity and size, and how it now felt suffocating. You think about, So you’re just giving up? Is that what you’re saying? Think about, I don’t know what else to do. It doesn’t feel fair to you.

You think about all the places you’ve watched him. On countless football pitches; shy glances in school hallways; in the passenger seat, wracked with nerves on the drive to Seoul; poised above you in bed, hairline dotted with sweat as he rolled his hips, telling you how much he loved you.

You think about watching him walk out the door, and how you never watched him again.

So you fire off your email, concise and to the point about why you can’t tutor Choi Seungcheol in Introduction to Microeconomics, and turn to Lee Chan, Sophomore.

“No,” you finally answer. “Never heard of him.”

For all intents and purposes, your rejection should’ve been the end of it.

A few days go by. You hold office hours, attend lectures, work on your thesis when you have both the time and the energy. Try to ignore the feeling of bees beneath your skin, anxiety needling each time you check your email. You were well within your right to decline the tutoring request, but you can’t help but feel like you’ve done something wrong. That someone somehow knows who Seungcheol was to you and will pull you up on it. That those girls who’d gushed about him to Chan are somewhere laughing at your expense.

But you don’t hear anything at all about it… until you do.

Sunday evening. You haven’t moved from your couch in hours, some variety show playing in the background, barely audible over your keyboard clacking. Much to your detriment, you don’t write many papers these days, so you’re out of practice. Feels like you haven’t done anything besides formulas in years, all of your academic knowledge reduced to fucking math, so you’re about ready to toss your laptop out the window long before the email even comes through.

You see, From: Lee Yeonseok. You see, Subject: Choi Seungcheol - Tutoring.

Your stomach plummets to the floor.

You scan the body quickly. You see the words personal favor… friend of his father… urgent matter… and your hands start shaking. Whether it’s from the sheer audacity of this man or anxiety, you aren’t sure, but it’s not like it matters. There aren’t a whole lot of people on campus brave or dumb enough to go up against him twice.

“Motherfucker,” you spit, bitter the only taste in your mouth.

Where did you go wrong to wind up here? You’d followed the script: got the grades, passed the exams, received half of the required education for the Respectable Career, helped a few others along the way chase dreams that may or may not have been their own. You’d fallen in love. Only had a broken heart to show for it, but that’d been in the script, too: The First Love, followed by The First Heartbreak.

The split from Seungcheol was supposed to have been the end of that chapter. You’d planned on never seeing him again, and you never would have, had it been up to you. Apparently the universe has other plans, participation required.

“Did you spill onion dip on the rug again?” You startle, sending your laptop flying. Kaori, your roommate, is perched halfway in between the living room and the kitchen like a cryptid, clearly not expecting your reaction. “Oh. Were you watching porn?”

Face burning, you fetch your laptop from the floor. “In a common area? Kaori, please, I have far more decorum than that.”

She snorts, resuming her trek to the fridge. “See, that’s what I thought, but then I walked out here and you threw your laptop so fast it was like watching my ex get caught watching furry porn all over again.” She pries the lid off a large container of yogurt. “You think this is still good?”

“Dunno. What’s it smell like?”

She sniffs it and pulls it back to check the label. “Vanilla, I think, which is concerning because it’s supposed to be strawberry.”

You shrug. “What’s the worst that can happen, you get extra”—you pause, trying to remember the correct order of things, before giving up entirely—“...biotics?”

“Mm, so close. Care if I just eat this with a spoon?”

Nose scrunched, you wave her off. “Couldn’t pay me to eat yogurt on a good day, let alone if it’s expired. All yours, babe.”

Spoon in hand and a pleased smile on her face, Kaori collapses onto the couch beside you. You try to return your attention to your paper, try to find your momentum again, and it works for all of ten minutes before you’re groaning and slamming the top closed.

You don’t even need to look over to know Kaori’s staring. “What’s up with you?” she asks. Before she can answer: “Wait, is this serious? Because I can’t have a serious conversation in this t-shirt.” You steal a glance sideways. Ask Me About My Hemorrhoid! it says, and you exhale loudly. “Don’t breathe at me, I lost a bet.”

“And continued wearing it?”

She jokingly rolls her eyes. “God forbid a girl has hobbies.” Nudges you with her foot. “C’mon, spill.”

Kaori doesn’t know about you and Seungcheol. Most people don’t, aside from a few old classmates from Daegu who found you on social media and tried befriending you once he started making a name for himself in Seoul. After that, it was just easier to keep things private while you were together. New friends knew you were seeing someone but not their name or how long you’d been together. Any curiosity surrounding why the Choi Seungcheol was following you on Insta had been waved away easily. Our parents are friends, we grew up together. Then you broke up, and there wasn’t any evidence to delete, and he wasn’t following you on Instagram anymore, and it was easier that way.

So, yeah—even though you hadn’t met her until years later, Kaori knows you have an ex. She knows you’ve had a few flings and situationships in the time since, too, and it’s why she’s none the wiser when you ask, “It’s nothing, really. Just—do you follow football at all?”

“Nah, not really. The new guy’s pretty into it and keeps trying to get me to watch the games with him, but it’s so fucking boring? I dunno, I can’t get into it. Not in real life, anyway—I binged all of Captain Tsubasa in an embarrassingly short amount of time, though. Why?”

“Student Services asked me to tutor someone the other day and I had to turn it down. I just don’t have the time, you know? This semester’s already killer, and Dr. Ahn’s been riding my ass nonstop about grades. Turns out it’s some football player, so Dr. Lee emailed me asking me to do it as a personal favor, which means, on top of all the other shit I have to do, I’m now tutoring some football player four hours a week in Microeconomics.”

Her face distorts. “God, that guy’s such a prick. Like wow, you’re good at the economy! Good for you! Who cares! Why don’t you go balance the national debt or something instead of torturing university freshmen!”

You also wrongly assume that’s the last you’ll hear of it from Kaori.

Two days later, after Student Services replies to your email with the days and times you’ll be tutoring Seungcheol, she materializes in the living room to harass you.

“You didn’t tell me your football player was Choi Seungcheol.”

The panic is instant. You know how she means it, but it’s not how your body interprets it. All of a sudden it feels like an interrogation, an accusation, and a whopping serving of guilt takes up residence in the middle of your chest for not being entirely honest.

“Explains this weird text Ken sent me.”

She slides her phone over to you, open to her text thread with her current flavor of the week. Beneath an article about Seungcheol enrolling in classes at your school:

doesn’t ur roomie TA there Why are you calling her “ur roomie” like you don’t know her name?? Rude. Also yes. ask her to get me an autograph No babe pls he was my fav player before he got injured No 🙄 fine. can i come over later? Starting to think you’re using me for my roommate. Get your own job 🙄

You hand her phone back. “I didn’t think you’d know who Choi Seungcheol even is.” It’s the best you can do, even though it just digs you a deeper grave. “You said you’re not into football.”

“I’m not, but unfortunately I am into that stupid man.” She sighs, wistful and longing. “Babe, you have to understand. His dick is so big.”

You hadn’t wanted to stay in Seoul for your graduate degree, let alone the same university you’d gone to for undergrad.

You’d applied to schools all over—Japan, Europe, even a few in the States. Romanticized the hell out of NYU, went window shopping for an overpriced apartment, picked a favorite pizzeria based on nothing but vibes and online reviews. In those few months after graduation, there wasn’t a whole lot tying you to Seoul. Your and Seungcheol’s relationship had been old history by then, your parents split. Your dad stayed in your childhood home and your mother moved a few hours closer to her sister. They’d waited until your brother was old enough to be out of the house.

And it’d just been… a lot. Overwhelming. Some days you could barely shower or feed yourself, let alone move halfway across the world, so you’d stayed in the familiar and tried not to let it feel like failure.

But the good thing about familiarity is you learn its tricks, figure out the hiding spots. Early on, your first or second week of grad school, you laid claim to a study room on a floor of the library everyone else ignored. You write notes on the whiteboard with faded blue markers that are still there days later. The chair on the opposite side of the table is always exactly where you left it, the space between it and the table enough to only accommodate you. Sometimes you leave books—old paperbacks littered with notes in your writing—or papers, just to see if they move.

They never do.

And all of this is why it feels like a punch to the gut when that sanctity is tainted. When you’re halfway through a stack of Dr. Ahn’s exams and the doorknob rattles behind you. When you don’t even need to turn around to know who it is, because he still sounds the same, still has that overwhelming presence. You’ve always sensed him before you felt him.

“There you are,” Dr. Lee says, ambling into the room before you can protest. He, too, is overwhelming, just in different ways. Immaculate posture that anchors his slight frame that’s always dressed impeccably and expensively. Wears a watch that’s triple your tuition. Shoes polished so bright they’re nearly blinding. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

This time it is an accusation.

Well, you found me, you want to say, but just knowing Seungcheol is behind him, lingering in that half-study room, half-hallway space, is enough to keep you quiet. Like if you speak you’ll summon him closer and you’ll no longer be able to pretend this is nothing more than a nightmare.

You plaster on a polite smile. Say, “Ah, here I am, kyosu-nim,” and put all your energy into trying to glue Seungcheol to the floor with your mind.

Which is fruitless, because Dr. Lee moves further into the room. Gestures for Seungcheol to follow him with an impatient huff, and the study room is small, sure, and with three people it feels cramped, but that’s not the reason it feels like all the air’s been sucked out of the room.

Seungcheol looks… different. He looks as anxious as you feel, and he sticks close to the wall like he’s trying to disappear. Dr. Lee introduces him with grave importance, unaware of your history, and the forced smile he offers you almost looks embarrassed.

You know Dr. Lee is still hammering away, probably giving you a stern talking-to for rejecting his request the first time, but you can’t tear your eyes away from Seungcheol. Feels like the world around you has reduced to a pinhead, all hyperfocus; feels like your lungs are sucking in stale air one at a time.

“...his father is a very good friend of mine, so I expect…”

You expected to feel nothing. Seungcheol had left to chase his dream—one you’d always been so supportive of that it sometimes felt like your dream, too—and, perhaps naively, you thought the distance and the years would’ve been enough. You expected your heart to have hardened. You expected all those nights you spent crying to hit you at full force. You expected anger, hurt—indifference, at the very least.

“...as many hours per week as you both can manage…”

But you should’ve known better. Should’ve expected the butterflies, the way your palms grow clammy, the way your heart rate spikes. Should’ve expected everything to feel upside-down. You should’ve expected to look at Seungcheol and feel sixteen and in love all over again.

“...you are responsible for his academic progress…”

And that simply will not do. You’ve spent the last few years pulling yourself out of that hole, clawing your way back to something resembling normal. You’ve purged the thought of him from your mind—let his scent fade from your sheets, an old sweatshirt he’d left behind; forgot the way his lips felt against every inch of your skin; forgot the way his entire being lit up when he laughed; forgot the safety he encompassed, the way he whispered all those sweet nothings.

You cannot go there again.

So you roll your shoulders back, smile politely. Say, “Ah, kyosu-nim, Choi Seungcheol-ssi seems very intelligent, I’m sure he is capable of being responsible for his own academic standing, don’t you think?”

Dr. Lee cannot disagree without all but calling Seungcheol an idiot, so he hovers before you in shocked silence. Makes a show of huffing and checking his watch, like he’s all of a sudden remembered he’s late for something and being inconvenienced by this conversation he started, and then he’s halfway out of the library with a terse, “Discuss and figure this out amongst yourselves,” thrown over his shoulder.

You have an entire dramatic exit planned in your head. Gather your things, fake a phone call that makes you sound authoritative and important, and brush past Seungcheol wearing your nicest perfume as if all of this is so far beneath you you can’t even bring yourself to care about it.

Of course, you actually have to brush by him for any of that to happen, and since you’ve already decided you will not go there again, you quickly scribble your email address onto a piece of paper and slide it across the table at Seungcheol, who has steadfastly remained planted just outside the door. “Here’s my email. I don’t have time to discuss this right now.” Seungcheol cocks an eyebrow. You start throwing things into your bag haphazardly. You know you look frantic and affected, but there’s not much you can do about that. “What? Send me a copy of your syllabus and what you want to prioritize. It’ll be easier to get through this if we have a plan instead of winging it.”

He seems to catch on to your distaste because he mirrors it. Scoffs as he rolls his eyes and says, “Yeah, no use spending more time together than we have to,” and if you hadn’t gone years without speaking, you would’ve seen right through it.

But you did, so it stings all the same.

As it typically does, the planet keeps spinning after your run-in with Seungcheol.

You grade Dr. Ahn’s coursework. Try running off your anxiety at the gym, even though it’s pretty good at keeping pace with you these days. You meet Kaori’s maybe-boyfriend sneaking out of your apartment early in the morning and he has the good sense not to mention your ex, but you chalk that up to the mess of hickeys covering his neck and not any sense of social decorum.

Other people’s embarrassment saves you a ton of your own, you’ve come to learn.

Throughout all of this, Seungcheol only emails you once to send you his course syllabus. Doesn’t mention tutoring or provide you with his schedule or ask for yours, so when you’re sitting in a bar with your friends, three or four drinks deep and feeling a little petty, you forward him the original tutoring request and make sure to bold, underline, and highlight the “Recommended Tutoring: High” part for good measure.

He doesn’t take your bait—electronically, at least—but he does show up to your office hours the following Tuesday.

Bag tossed onto the floor, he flops unceremoniously into the chair across from you and says, in lieu of a greeting, “They spelled your name wrong. On the door thing.”

“I know,” you reply, your smile polite and terse. Incredible how he has the ability to raise your blood pressure in milliseconds. “What can I help you with?”

“Depends. How long do you have?”

“Well, considering you’ve shown up to my office hours on time, I’m assuming you already know I’m here every Tuesday and Thursday from four to six. So”—you glance at the clock above the door—“assuming no one comes by who needs my help more than you do, you have approximately one hour and fifty-eight minutes.”

Seungcheol is quiet for a moment as he takes you in. His stare is weighted; it makes you feel a little green around the edges. Clinical and sharp, so far removed from the way he used to look at you. You clear your throat. “I looked over your syllabus. The good news is there’s only a midterm and a final and the rest is problem sets. The bad news is there’s only a midterm and a final so they’re weighted quite heavily. You really need to know this stuff inside-out to have any hope of passing.”

“That’s why you’re here, right? Dr. Lee specifically requested you.”

You huff a breath through your nose. “I’m here as supplemental help. I can’t take your exams or do your readings for you. What else are you taking this semester?”

He sighs, sinking further into the chair, very much playing the part of the heir who has no interest in any of this. Which… is unlike him, you think, if you’re even allowed to. The Seungcheol you knew years ago took everything so seriously. Never clipped corners or took shortcuts. Anyone else would think him a spoiled, petulant child. “Business Accounting and International Trade.”

“Could be worse,” you note. “At least those three courses are tangentially related.”

Seungcheol rolls his eyes. “Easy for you to say. I haven’t taken a fucking math class in years.”

You return it. “You remember how to add and subtract, don’t you?”

“I ruptured my ACL, not my…” He trails off, looking a little embarrassed that he can’t name a part of the—“Brain.”

Whatever you were going to quip back with dies on your tongue. It's the first time Seungcheol has broached the topic of his injury—the first you’re hearing of it at all, actually—and he says it like it’s a joke, like it’s not a thing at all, but the pain is all over his face. The bitterness of the situation he’s found himself in. The unfairness of it all.

And there are so many questions you want to ask that aren’t your place: if it’s fixable, if he’ll ever play again, how he’s coping. But you don’t really need to—you can’t imagine how you’d feel if someone suddenly pulled the rug out from under you. If everything contained within the four walls of your office suddenly disappeared.

Not that the man sitting across from you hadn’t already done that, but.

“Right,” you continue, as if he hadn’t said anything at all. You know Seungcheol—know he wouldn’t want you prodding, sticking your fingers in that particular wound. “I want you to take a look at this,” you say, handing over a printout you have saved from your undergrad tutoring days. “Tell me what looks familiar, what doesn’t; what does and doesn’t make sense.”

He looks down at the paper. Back up at you. Down at the paper again. “What the fuck is this?”

“I—what? Cheol, it’s my old notes on recitation. Surely you’ve already covered this—the syllabus says this is week one stuff.” He looks down at the paper again, and it’s so familiar, watching the life drain entirely from someone’s eyes.

You barely resist the urge to slam your face onto your desk a second time.

You meet Seungcheol at the sports center for your next tutoring session.

He likes the humidity and the smell of the chlorine by the pool. He also likes that it’s not the football pitch, so the two of you sit in the bleachers there and go over his lecture notes. Much to your surprise, Seungcheol talks a mile a minute. Has stars in his eyes when he says he finally understands elastic demand curves, supply shock; tells you he spent a whole hour making flashcards.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him so excited since your tutoring began—the first glimmer of hope you’ve felt since Dr. Lee cornered you in your library hideaway. None of this surprises you. Seungcheol has always been smart, even when football was his primary (and sometimes only) focus. He has more determination and grit than anyone you’ve ever met, so you’re not surprised he’s doing well, excelling, but you are surprised—

“Can I ask you something?” Seungcheol shrugs, shoves half a protein bar in his mouth and swallows without chewing. “Why are you… uh. Here?”

“At this university?”

“Not exactly. I mean, I am wondering about that, but I guess… why business?”

Seungcheol hums. Tucks his good knee to his chest and stares down at the pool. No one’s using it, and truthfully the two of you probably aren’t even allowed to be here, but you understand why he likes it. It’s nowhere near as secluded as the library and definitely not as air conditioned, but it is peaceful. Calm. The water laps against the coping in quiet, small waves.

“Ah, I don’t know. You know how it goes.”

You quirk an eyebrow. Never, in all the years you’ve known him, has Seungcheol done anything he didn’t want to do. All that grit and determination. “What about your father, then? Dr. Lee mentioned this was a favor to him. He’s a pretty important person to have in your Rolodex of favors.”

Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see what this is: Seungcheol’s father has new money; worked from the bottom up, made some smart investment decisions that finally panned out after Seungcheol left for Seoul. Started doing his own thing, made a name for himself. Last you’d heard from your mother, Seungcheol’s brother was second-in-command. Hell, even your own brother did an internship there.

So you know what this is: a father helping his son after his dream was shattered, life turned upside-down. You can’t blame him, even if you’ve heard the whispers from all the way across campus. That Seungcheol is washed up now, trying to nepo his way into his father’s company because of it; that all he knows is sports and he should’ve stuck to that, what does he know about business, why is he the one Dr. Lee went out of his way to help.

Doesn’t stop any of them from smiling at him, though; doesn’t stop them from asking for autographs or selfies.

But you also know this isn’t something Seungcheol seems willing to discuss, so you crack a joke—“I mean, business. God, who’d wanna go into that?”—and go back to what he was willing to talk about.

You’ve never hated elastic demand curves so much in your life.

Deep in the throes of tutoring—when you can’t tell if it’s week two or week twelve—you make it back to your apartment just before ten, head pounding.

The door flies open just as you’re about to punch in the code, and there stands Ken, looking far more put-off than you’ve ever seen him. Looks defeated, if you’re being honest, like someone mopped up all his emotions and wrung them out like dirty dishwater.

“Oh, hi,” you say hesitantly. The man in front of you seems too much like a caged animal to let your guard down. “Everything okay?”

He aborts a nod halfway. Mutters an apology as he brushes by you and stalks down the hall, disappearing around the corner to the elevators. Usually he’s a talker—you haven’t been able to avoid a Seungcheol-related conversation in weeks—so you’re a little stunned. Stand there stupidly for a while, and that’s where Kaori finds you a moment later.

“You gonna stand out here all night, or…?”

“Oh—yeah, right.”

You follow her inside. Toe off your shoes and put them in the rack. Focus on the sound of the kettle whistling instead of the overbearing tension in the room. Drop your bag off in your room, throw on a sweatshirt three sizes too big and a comfy pair of socks. Rummage through the fridge for leftovers, contemplate what mindless show you’ll watch as you eat, and you do not, under any circumstances, ask Kaori what happened.

You don’t have to. You knew what this was going to be the first time Ken spent the night—the way he looked mortified to be meeting you in the shared kitchen at seven a.m., wearing a look that begged you not to tell your roommate he was sneaking out.

I, uh, have an early class, he’d said. You know how it is.

Maybe you should’ve called him on it then. Issued a warning-but-not-really. She’ll get attached if you don’t tell her. She should know it’s different for you, if it is.

But you’d convinced yourself it wasn’t your place. Kaori wouldn’t want you in her business like that, so you stayed quiet, just nodded before watching him slip his shoes on and close the door behind him so quietly you wouldn’t have known he left at all if you hadn’t been looking. Gone, just like a ghost.

So, yeah, you know exactly why your roommate looks haunted.

“I’m a few episodes behind on this if you want to watch with me,” you offer, pointing at the television with the remote. It’s a lie—you’ve never watched this show a day in your life, which Kaori seems to know—but she contemplates it nonetheless. “Also, my mom mailed us some cookies. I think they’re in the fridge.”

“Why are there cookies in the fridge?”

You huff a laugh. “They were outside the door this morning before I left for campus. I don’t know—just saw who the package was from and was like, oh, this must go in the fridge.”

She nods. Grabs the container and joins you on the couch. Sticks her feet beneath your butt and doesn’t mention a thing.

The closest she comes is a few days later. Catches you right before you head out to campus and asks how tutoring is going.

“Not bad, actually.”

Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes when she says, “That’s good. I’m glad things are going well for you two.”

Lee Chan, Sophomore makes his unexpected return at your office hours on an unsuspecting Tuesday.

“Can I help you?”

He doesn’t answer right away, just helps himself to the seat across from you. “Maybe,” comes his cryptic retort. “I was thinking about signing up for that crypto course next semester.”

You narrow your eyes. “No, you weren’t.”

He sighs. Looks a little panicked, like he can’t believe that didn’t work. “You’re right, you’re right. I, um—I wanted to come say thank you.” He pauses. “You know, for that… email you sent.”

You blink. “No, you didn’t.”

Lee Chan, Sophomore cracks immediately. Thunks his head on your desk and lets loose a pained sound. It nearly sounds like he’s wailing when he says, “I’m sorry! They put me up to it!”

What you’re able to piece together is this: Lee Chan, Sophomore has become a bit of a celebrity in the Student Services department ever since he met you, Choi Seungcheol’s tutor. And, like any smart, previously unpopular university student would do, he took advantage of it. Might’ve stretched the truth a little to make it sound like he knew more than he did, so now here he is, angling for information the girls with the photocards may or may not have paid him to get.

“They want to know about his girlfriend.”

“His what?”

What you’re able to piece together is also this: the Photocard Girls are certain Seungcheol is dating someone, based on little more than vibes. You suspect these vibes are their three degrees of separation, considering there was an abnormal amount of Change of Major files formed after his enrollment, but you tell Lee Chan that you don’t know anything and, even if you did, you wouldn’t put his business out there like that.

But some part of you still has this inexplicable urge to protect Seungcheol, so you match their offer with interest and tell him to say there’s nothing to report—not that you didn’t know, not that he couldn’t get anything out of you. Seungcheol isn’t dating anyone.

You don’t know if it’s true, but you figure that if it isn’t, he still deserves privacy.

Which is a notion you have trouble explaining a few hours later, when Seungcheol strolls into your office with a grease-stained paper bag full of cheese coin bread, offering one to you with a proud smile that drops slowly when you just stare in return.

“What’s wrong?”

Your mouth opens, closes, opens again. Nothing comes out, even though it should be simple. Some sophomore kid was just in here angling for information or the Student Services department is taking bets on whether or not you have a girlfriend would both suffice, but you cannot bring yourself to say the words.

What you settle on is, “Sorry, I just… had an interesting meeting before you got here.”

“Oh. Are you okay?”

You sigh. Tilt your head back to stare up at the ceiling. “It was about you, actually.”

Seungcheol chokes, starts stuttering over words you can’t make sense of. Says, “Me? Why? I passed my last exam—I mean, barely, but I still passed. And that wasn’t your fault! I didn’t study enough! I’ve been losing my mind over my International Trade class, that shit sucks—”

“It wasn’t about your grades, Cheol.”

“Oh.” Then, slowly, a lopsided, pleased smile overtakes his face. “Haven’t heard you call me Cheol in a while.”

“Seungcheol,” you correct.

He seems to forget all about the meeting. Tries again to offer you a coin bread before he threatens to eat them all himself, so you acquiesce mostly to shut him up, say you’ll bring the extras to Kaori. For some reason, you tell him about how much she’d loved the cookies your mom sent, and the nostalgia sets him off, gets him talking again, asking if they were the yakgwa she used to make when you two were kids.

They were, but you can’t seem to tell him that, either.

Seungcheol: sorry it’s last minute - running late. can you meet me at my place instead?

Seungcheol shared a location with you

You’re halfway to replying—I don’t think that’s appropriate—before you sigh and delete it. Midterms are only a few days away and you don’t have time to argue over where your tutoring sessions will be, so if Seungcheol wants to meet at his apartment that’s where you’ll meet him.

You read over the midterm notes on the train. Once, twice, and then a hundred more times until they’re nearly memorized, all so you can ignore the voice in the back of your head saying what a bad idea this is. That you have no business being on your way to your ex’s swanky part of town or integrating yourself into his life beyond tutoring at all. You shouldn’t know where he lives. Maybe you shouldn’t even have his phone number or answer his texts.

Not that there’s much you can do about it now, two stops away.

Seungcheol greets you warmly, if not a little rushed. Apologizes for the mess once you step inside, although it’s less “mess” and more “haven’t finished unpacking,” but there’s enough clear space to study at the dining table, so that’s where you set up, determined to keep things professional.

“Sorry again about this,” Seungcheol says, placing a can of cola in front of you as he takes the seat across. “I had to meet with my father and lost track of time, I guess.”

“Oh. How’s he doing?”

Seungcheol sighs, leans further back in the chair as runs a hand through his hair. A light brown, now. “Same as he always was, I guess. Talked about the business, about my brother. Can’t get him to shut up about that stuff most of the time.”

“The business is doing good, though.” You cough, clear your throat. “My, uh. My brother interned there during undergrad. I don’t know if your father told you that.”

You don’t know why you say it, because it’s clear from the brief flicker of pain on Seungcheol’s face that he hadn’t known, that no one had told him. And it hurts you too that they felt the need to keep it a secret, to protect Seungcheol from you even in tangential ways.

“He didn’t,” he admits, “but I’m sure he was happy to see him. He was, uh—he was glad to hear you’re my tutor. Said you were always smarter than all of us boys combined.”

You laugh. Hope it sounds casual instead of strained. “Well, no need to prove him right. Come on,” you say, tossing a study guide in his direction, “let’s get to work.”

Everything is alright for a while—nearly an hour at least. He has the formulas memorized and attributed to the correct equations. He can explain supply and demand, preference and utility, but things start to fall apart around budget constraints and constrained choice.

The formulas get mixed up. He grows frustrated when he doesn’t know the answers to your questions right away. Rolls his eyes and gets a little snappy when you correct him, try to explain things differently in a way he understands. At first he’s able to temper it, collect himself before things truly start spiraling out of control, but the longer the two of you sit there the more it all unravels.

He snaps, you snap back, and you can’t figure out why. You’ve survived this long in Seungcheol’s orbit even though you never thought you’d be around him again, and perhaps it was bound to explode eventually, but…

It’s the familiarity, you realize.

You and Seungcheol aren’t friends, though you’ve been playing at it for weeks now: meeting outside of the library or your office, the personal conversations bordering on reminiscing, being in his personal space. You don’t belong here. You don’t want to be his friend—you can’t be, not for real or pretend.

“That’s not what I’m say—”

“Then explain it better,” Seungcheol fires at you, eyebrows creasing. “You’re the tutor here.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m trying, okay? All I meant was—your answer isn’t wrong, but I know Dr. Lee and he’s going to want more than that in a response.”

“Right—not good enough, like I said.”

“I’m just asking you to expand on your answer—”

“And I’m telling you that’s all I’ve got. I’m not like you, all right? I don’t have all this shit just floating around in my head all the time. I’m not smart, I barely have any idea what’s going on half the time, and you sitting here being condescending about it is doing fuck-all to help.”

You inhale sharply, taken aback at the hostility in his voice. Suggest calling it for the night, say neither of you will be productive if you keep going like this, and neither of you bother to apologize.

So much of your relationship with Seungcheol was marred by clichés.

The two of you passing notes back and forth during class. You in the bleachers of all his games, screaming along to the team chants, waving a sign around with his name on it. Not realizing you had a crush on him at all until he liked someone else and it made your stomach hurt. Childhood friends turned lovers.

Another cliché: that it’s starting to feel like that all over again.

Seungcheol sits across from you in the library, econ textbook cracked in half in front of him as he pays no attention. Keeps grabbing his phone each time it vibrates across the table. Can’t fight the smile that forces its way onto his face when he reads whatever’s there.

Stupid, you think—both to do this and to think it’d play out any other way. Seungcheol left years ago. Probably lived ten lifetimes while he was away while you were here in this exact spot doing this exact thing. Barely lived half a life, just stuck your nose in textbooks and forced your way through.

“Cheol,” you say, trying to drag his attention back to the study guide. No use. He’s typing away, presses his tongue into the fat of his cheek as he responds. “Seungcheol,” you try again.

Also fruitless.

You have no claim here, you remind yourself—not to his time, not to him. He’s only here because someone else mandated it. You’re only here because someone else mandated it, but it stings all the same. Another reminder of what used to be, of what ended regardless of what you wanted. Another reminder that the role you used to play in his life is not the role you play now. That the space you used to take up created a vacancy, and eventually it was going to be filled.

And if this was anyone other than Seungcheol, if you were more emotionally evolved when it came to him, it wouldn’t gnaw at you as much. All of this would roll off your shoulders.

But it isn’t, and you’re not.

“If you’re not going to listen, then—”

“I am listening,” he interjects, but he’s not looking at you. Not looking at his textbook or his study guide. Keeps laughing and smiling at his phone, and it’s sick how bothered you are by it. That it feels like your stomach’s been turned inside-out with jealousy; with annoyance, because you don’t want to be here anyway, don’t want to do this anymore, and you’re wasting your time on someone who doesn’t appreciate it.

Perhaps he never did.

“What are we discussing, then?”

Still not looking up: “Consumer theory.”

You laugh—more a huff of air than anything, grin sardonically out of one corner of your mouth. Seungcheol sees none of it. “Wrong,” you answer, already expecting the way he shrugs it off. “I’m gonna skip ahead a few chapters, though. Consider it a freebie for your business class.”

It must be your tone that finally grabs his attention. Cutting, precise, purposeful. Seungcheol lowers his phone, quirks an eyebrow, wonders where this is going to go. It’s clear he’s pissed you off, that you’re itching for a fight. It’s clear the years of silence are finally coming to a head.

“Let’s talk about ROI. You know what that is?” You barely give him a second. “Return on investment. A performance measure used to evaluate the efficiency of an investment or compare the efficiency of several investments. So, let’s say I make one-hundred-thousand won on a ten-thousand won investment: my ROI is 90%. Are you following?”

He nods.

“Great, now let’s try something a bit more hypothetical.” You suck in a breath. “Let’s say I invest years of my adolescence into someone. A friend at first and then something more. Let’s say I played cheerleader, supported every hope and dream he had—went to every game, cheered him on, helped him practice his English. Held his hand and talked him down when the pressure felt overwhelming, when the only thing that felt inevitable was failure. Now, let’s say all I got in return was a stuttered, awkward apology as he dumped me and walked out the door. Let’s say that guy showed up again after years of silence just to once again waste my fucking time.”

The thing about pain is it’s not linear. What hurt five, ten years ago might not hurt today, but it might tomorrow; what hurt yesterday may never hurt again. The thing about pain is it lets you stick your head in the sand until it can’t anymore, and that’s where you are now: that window of time between Seungcheol walking out the door on the assumption you’d never see him again before he bulldozed his way back into your life has been slammed closed, locked up tight.

So you don’t even notice you’re crying until the room goes deathly silent and you can hear the drip drip drip of tears on paper. Until you watch Seungcheol’s hands flex and unflex in mid-air, stuck in that liminal space, wanting to reach out but knowing he has no right to. Until your chest aches so bad you’re sure you’re either about to break into stardust or cease to exist.

Until you say, “What, Choi Seungcheol, would you say my fucking return on investment was?” and he has nothing to say at all.

Kaori invites you to a party.

Just something small to celebrate the end of midterms and a classmate’s birthday. Nothing out of control or raucous, not even the kind of thing that’d earn a second glance from campus security. I won’t even make fun of you if you leave before eleven, is how she sold it to you, in addition to a small amount of begging and bargaining and a powerful set of puppy-dog eyes.

After everything the two of you have been through, you find it hard to say no.

So here you are, nearly eleven o’clock on a Friday, a cup of cheap beer in hand. A friend of a friend of a friend is wailing into a karaoke machine and although your ears are bleeding, it does feel nice for that to be your greatest worry. You aren’t thinking about your classes or how you’ve been prioritizing everyone else’s academic success. You aren’t thinking about whatever’s going on between Kaori and Ken. You aren’t thinking about Seungcheol.

At least you aren’t, until he walks through the door.

You’re going to continue not thinking about him at all—not about the fact he’s alone or how good he looks in a simple black T-shirt that’s a little taut in the shoulders. You’re not going to think about the way the air shifts, like the universe knows he’s important and is willing to accommodate. You’re not going to think about how Kaori catches your eye across the room, recognizes him from all her internet searches, and the way she mouths oh my god he’s so beefy at you.

You’re not going to think about how guilty you feel that she doesn’t know, because if you do you’re certain it’ll take over.

You watch Seungcheol work the room; watch as he floats between conversations, as strangers fall over themselves at the sight of him. How eager everyone is to give him something and how reluctant he is to take them. You watch as he winds up in the same circle as Kaori and how she must mention you, oh, your tutor is my roommate, because there’s a question in return before he turns and meets your gaze.

You wonder why the distance between you feels more insurmountable now than ever before.

Seungcheol finds you in your office.

It’s not a Tuesday or a Thursday, far later than four to six in the evening, but he doesn’t even bother knocking before he’s barreling in, stifling your space with his bad energy.

You haven’t seen him in nearly two weeks. Not since the party, if that even counts. Hasn’t bothered to reply to any of your texts or emails, and that was just fine by you, if that’s how he wanted to act, but it isn’t until he’s brooding on the other side of your desk that you realize you’re still aggrieved, too. Feels a little too familiar, him leaving you behind and in the dark.

So you don’t mean to—typically have much more professionalism than this—but when he tosses a stapled stack of papers with a barely-passing grade on your desk and says, “This is your fault,” the words come automatically and without forethought.

“Fuck off, Seungcheol.” It’s not your words that take him by surprise; more so the roll of your eyes, the accompanying huff. The impression that all of this is beneath you and nothing more than a mere annoyance. That however affected you were two weeks ago is not how affected you are anymore. “That’s what happens when you blow off your tutoring for two weeks because you’re a coward.”

He laughs, incredulous; unable to help the sound the tumbles out of his mouth. “I’m a—I’m a coward?”

“Yes,” you reply, tone giving away nothing. All he sees is feigned nonchalance despite the hurricane you feel brewing beneath the surface. “This,” you continue, pinching the corner of the paper between your fingertips and disposing of it in the trashcan beneath your desk, “is all on you, but do please let me know if there’s anything else you’d like to blame me for. I’m all ears.”

You don’t miss it: the way Seungcheol’s eyes grow wide at your ‘I’m all.’ The way he thinks you’re going to punctuate that sentence with yours, and it nearly has bile rising in your throat. Makes you want to scream, rip at your hair. If the last few months have taught you anything, it’s that you are still hopelessly in love with the man across from you—the man that continues to leave before he’s left, always at your expense.

So, yeah—Seungcheol is a coward, but only when it comes to you.

But he doesn’t look much like one now, gripping so hard at the edge of your desk that his knuckles have gone white, baseball cap pulled down low enough his eyes are barely visible. He’s always been overwhelming, always carried himself with an exaggerated arrogance even when it wasn’t warranted, always took everything so seriously, and maybe that’s why you’d thought he’d treat you the same way. Take you seriously. Wouldn’t just throw it all away on a maybe thing, and that’s why it's been years and you still aren’t over it.

Maybe Seungcheol is a coward, and maybe so are you.

Because not once since he’s been back have you been able to say what you mean. Can’t seem to tell him about the anger, the hurt, the heartbreak. Played it all off as petty nonchalance because you foolishly thought that would hurt him, that you’ve been reduced to simmering ash, no hope left for a fire.

“I could never blame you for a goddamn thing,” he says, voice so deep you could drown in it.

You so desperately want to know. You don’t want to know anything at all. You want Seungcheol to explain everything to you in detail and spoil the ending, but only if it’s guaranteed to be happy. Enduring another loss like the first time—you’re not sure you can take it. Not after you two have crossed paths like this, because you’ve never quite believed in fate but you think that has to mean something. That so much time and life had transpired and you two came back together.

Today, though, it doesn’t look like you’re going to get any answers.

Seungcheol straightens, looms at full height. Digs into the pocket of his sweatpants and pulls out a thumb drive. Wordlessly, he hands it over, and then he’s gone just as abruptly as he’d arrived.

Again.

Kaori wants to spend the weekend moping, and you can’t come up with a good reason not to join her.

She doesn’t mention Ken once. Not when she’s sobbing over A Silent Voice and Toradora! after that. Not when she keeps glancing at her phone every couple minutes to see if she has any texts. Not when you—only halfway paying attention between grading and your own assignments—suggest ordering something for delivery, maybe that new burger place down the street you heard was good, and Kaori shuts it down so vehemently you can only assume it was Ken’s favorite place.

Kaori just cries over the man with the big dick she never expected to take so seriously, and not even your stonewalling makes her feel ashamed of it.

And there’s respectability in that kind of openness and vulnerability. At least whatever she’s feeling is honest; at least she can admit she’s sad. You think watching Kaori process her breakup might help you process yours too, years too late, so you suck in a breath and ask, “Can I tell you something or is now not a good time?”

Kaori looks over at you. Dabs a soggy tissue at her eyes. “Well, I guess it depends,” is her answer, and she doesn’t shy away from how waterlogged her voice sounds. “If you’re going to tell me you’re a Takasu and Kawashima shipper, maybe, but if it’s anything worse I’m not sure I could take it.”

“I—what? Who even are they?” She gives you a half-hearted thumbs up. You sigh in response, sink further into the couch. “It’s, uh.” Clear your throat. “Do you remember when we met sophomore year? At that party? And I told you I wasn’t looking for anything and you said, and I quote, why not, I have a sixth sense for this kind of thing and I know that guy will have a huge—”

She hides her face behind her hands. “Ew, god, yes I remember that. My dick whisperer era. How embarrassing.”

“Right. And I told you I wasn’t looking for anything because I’d just gotten out of something.”

“Not really by choice, if I remember correctly. I told you if it was quiet it should’ve been loud, and then you never talked about it again.”

You nod. “I—yeah, that sounds like something I would’ve said.” You suck in a deep breath. “Listen, this is probably gonna sound bad considering I did never talk about it again, but—”

“Hey,” Kaori says, nudging you with her foot. Meant to be comforting, somehow. “It’s okay. There’s a lot you don’t know about me, too… most of which I’m not sure you should, actually.”

A laugh forces its way out, gives you a nice reprieve from the anxiety of the conversation you’re about to have. The need to explain it all, the need for advice. Maybe it’s not her—or anyone else’s—business, but you think you’ve kept this to yourself long enough. You and Seungcheol loved each other, once, and it seems foolish that no one knows.

Maybe Kaori had been right. Maybe love should be shouted from the rooftops; exist out in the open. Maybe something hidden in the shadows can never thrive in the light, and you knew it back then, deep down, but now it seems so obvious.

You think back to a few days before the library. Think about how things didn’t feel good but they felt okay. Think about the frustrated crease between Seungcheol’s eyebrows as he stared down at his textbook and how all you’d wanted to do was smooth it. Think about how you’d rolled your lips and tried not to laugh; how you thought it’d take a miracle to help Seungcheol pass this class.

Think about: What is the difference between the short-run and the long-run from the perspective of production theory?

Think about the short-run of your and Seungcheol’s relationship—that you’d burned bright and fast, even though it’d felt like a million years. Hadn’t dared to consider the long-run because anything beyond that bubble felt impossible.

Think about: Which of the following is not a property of isoquants?

Think about the way Seungcheol’s eyes lit up when he knew the answer. That they’re always linear, he said, and you smiled at his enthusiasm, raised your hand to high-five him and dropped it when he hadn’t noticed.

You think about the explanation—isoquants can be linear when inputs are perfectly substitutable—and what those graphs look like. Downward sloping, left to right. Think about how the graphs change when the isoquants are perfect complements.

L-shaped. Less straight as the inputs become poorer substitutes.

You know what your and Seungcheol’s graph would’ve looked like back then.

So it’s easy, almost, to tell Kaori everything. You tell her about growing up in Daegu, about the smell of the azaleas at Biseulsan in the spring. You tell her about how your parents had befriended the neighbors, how they had a kid your age, that that kid was Seungcheol—yes, that Seungcheol.

She’s able to anticipate the rest from there, but you fill in the blanks of what she can’t: being sixteen and falling in love, holding hands, the clandestine notes. All those football matches and how your throat would be hoarse from cheering. How nauseous you’d felt applying to university in Seoul, how excited you were when Seungcheol said he was coming with you. That, after you arrived, it felt like you were living in fast-forward. Barely any time to breathe or adjust; no time to just be you and Seungcheol. You had to be a student, someone responsible; Seungcheol had to be a phenom.

“Could you feel it was going to happen?” Kaori asks, now sat ramrod straight, all her attention on you. “Like, did you know?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “Maybe I did? It’s hard to say now, all this time later. I know things definitely felt different, like life was pulling us in opposite directions.” You laugh, bitterness coloring the edges. “You couldn’t go two blocks without seeing him on some billboard, and I was just… normal, you know? I wasn’t some rising star athlete like he was, I just went to my classes. How was I supposed to compete with something like that?”

Your roommate hums, leans back into the pillows as she stares up at the ceiling. “I don’t think you were. Maybe that’s why Seungcheol was worried—maybe he felt like you were losing your own identity feeling like you had to keep up.”

You want to push back, argue that you weren’t, that you didn’t, but the truth is that it’s possible. That the shadows created by Seungcheol’s dreams were so massive you wouldn’t be surprised if they unintentionally swallowed you up. “It still wasn’t his choice to make,” you say, voice barely above a whisper.

And Kaori already knows all about your hurt, listened as you explained it all and laid everything bare. So when she says, “Sometimes that’s just how it goes, though, babe,” it doesn’t feel condescending. “We do the best we can with what we’ve got at the time. You can say now it wasn’t Seungcheol’s choice to make, because it’s been almost five years and you’ve made a life for yourself separate from him. But the—god, this is gonna sound so patronizing, I am so sorry—but you guys were so young. No one has it all figured out at that age.”

She snorts, runs a hand through her messy hair. “Shit, I’m nearly halfway to thirty and I still don’t know anything.” Adopts a frown. “What do you want now? Do you want closure? Want to try to fix things and become friends?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, biting at a hangnail. “He actually, um. The other day when he stopped by my office, he left me a USB drive? And before you ask, no I did not already look at it.”

“A USB drive? Who does this guy think he is, James Bond?” A pause. “Are you gonna look at it, though?”

You do.

Not until the silver, midnight light creeps in through your bedroom curtains and you’ve stared at the ceiling long enough; waited long enough for texts that never came, for divine intervention to, well, intervene. It never did—fair enough—so you decide to take fate by the reins. Grab your laptop, instant headache from the screen, stick the drive into the port.

It takes a second for it to load, but when it does: dozens of videos, organized by date. Vlogs, by the look of them—some from before your breakup but the majority of them from after.

You’re not sure what you expected, but it wasn’t this.

You click on the first one: a month and a half before both of you moved to Seoul. A fresh-faced Seungcheol appears on your screen, cheeks still round with adolescence. He’s in his room back in Daegu, can’t get the camera angle right. Nostalgia hits you like a ton of bricks as it pans to the side, to the wall behind his bed, and you see all his old posters. Mostly football players you couldn’t name, some girl group he used to love, a few movies. Just below them are some of the notes you’d written him in school, and they’re all you can focus on as he talks about how excited he is for the move.

The next: a few weeks after you’d started classes. By then, Seungcheol was well into the swing of things with Seoul FC. Already a big fish in a small pond, tryout offers from European teams starting to roll in. You can hear yourself in the background stressing over your first exam, wishing a generational curse upon your calculus professor. In the video, Seungcheol laughs, whispers like he’s telling the camera a secret as he talks about how nervous he is for his future. I don’t know why, he says, but it just feels like everything is about to change.

There’s a long pause between that one and the next. You understand why when you look at the date: three months after your breakup. Your hands hover uselessly above your keyboard. Whatever answers you’ve been looking for the last few years are probably in this video, but you can’t bring yourself to open it. Not right away, at least.

You click on a different one at random. Seungcheol’s somewhere in Europe, judging from the language on the signs behind him. Snow falls quietly—whenever he filmed this, it must’ve been early. No one else is around, and he cracks a joke that it’s a good thing, people would probably think he was crazy if they saw him. He doesn’t tell you where he’s going but he narrates the entire walk: points out a cafe he’s grown to love. The way to get to his practice stadium from where he’s standing. Pauses near a restaurant and laughs ruefully, shakes his head, says, I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but one of my teammates set me up on a blind date here and I got stood up. You’d probably think that was funny.

(You do. It also makes your chest ache.)

One from two years ago: Seungcheol in a hotel room, clearly nervous. He raises his hand to wave at the camera and you can see the corners of his nails bitten raw. Dark circles beneath his eyes; cheekbones more pronounced than you’ve ever seen them. On the screen, Seungcheol sighs, rakes a hand through freshly-bleached hair. Sucks in a deep breath as he says, I’m so nervous. I’m so—so fucking nervous and I don’t. Fuck, I don’t know what to do. I want to call you because you always knew what to say but that’s so fucking selfish. God, we haven’t spoken in years, and it’s my—that’s my fault, I know, so I brought this all on myself. I just want to hear your voice.

Another from a week after that: the color’s returned to his face, and he’s recording from what looks like a penthouse apartment. Sleek, modern; a small white dog napping on the bed beside him. He smiles, looks like he got his teeth fixed, looks like he’s no longer carrying around the weight of the world. Talks endlessly and excitedly about some tournament. Talks so fast you can barely keep up. Talks around words tinged with languages you don’t understand.

Seungcheol wins a championship. Records a drunk vlog from the same night, hair soaked through with god-knows-what—water, champagne, you don’t know. But he looks radiant. Looks like the culmination of two decades of dreaming. He looks happy, free, at peace. He looks like the reason he let you go, why he had to go away.

You scroll to the bottom of the files. Pause at the last video, dated seven months before the term started.

“Hi,” he says, and you can immediately tell everything is all wrong. Seungcheol’s in the dark, face only visible enough to see the tears tracking on his cheeks. “This is going to be the last one of these I make. I don’t know if you, uh—I’m sure you aren’t paying attention to me—my career—anymore, but. I, um. I got hurt. Ruptured my ACL. They’re not sure I’ll…” A sob escapes him. Has you wanting to climb through the screen to hold him, thumb away his tears, tell him everything is going to be okay. “They don’t know if I’ll ever play again.”

Seungcheol no longer looks happy, free, at peace. “Maybe you’ll be happy to hear that,” he continues. “Maybe it’ll help you to know I threw away our relationship for nothing.”

Cut to black.

The sudden silence is deafening. Has you desperately clicking back to the video you’d skipped, the one from just after your breakup. Seungcheol looks the same in that one, too, like the life has been drained out of him.

I don’t know why I’m doing this. It’s not like I’ll ever show these to you now, since I…

I’m sure I owe you an explanation. To be honest, I don’t know what I’m doing, I just—things have been so hard, and I’m still trying to make sense of it all. I feel like my life went from zero to a hundred before I could even blink and now I’m scrambling. I didn’t think it was fair to—to drag you through that. Me being away, moving to an entirely different continent. I have faith we could do it, I just. I don’t know, baby, I don’t…

You deserve to have your own life. Be your own person. I’m so scared that the world will never see you for who you are—so beautiful and intelligent and kind. You don’t deserve to be reduced to my partner. And if you ever see this, I know you’re gonna roll your eyes. Probably call me a mean name because I took the choice away from you, because you think I’m trying to be selfless and heroic, and you’d be right. It’s not fair, and I wish I could tell you I’m sorry.

I wish I could just… pluck out my brain and give it to you, because even if it killed me to do it, at least it makes sense to me. And I don’t—I don’t want you to think I’m not hurting. I’ve been sick to my stomach since I left. I know I’m making a mistake, I know I am, I just—how do I do what I think is right in the long-run when it’s not what I want right now, or ever?

I don’t want to get over you. I don’t want you to get over me, and that’s how you know I’m not acting selflessly, because you should. I want you to always be happy, I just… wish it was with me.

So, I’m going to keep making these. I’m going to take you along for the ride, wherever it takes us, because you should be here but I can only hope you can one day understand why you’re not. I’m so—I’m so sorry, I don’t…

I’m sorry.

I love you.

You fall asleep and dream that you were the one meant to meet him at that restaurant.

The first thing you do is make a call to your mother.

“Could you send another container of yakgwa?”

On the other end of the line, your mother tuts, motherly intuition audibly kicking into overdrive. Is probably wearing that all-knowing, sly grin she always does when you try to be coy and evasive. “What happened to the last container I sent?”

“Ah, you know Kaori loves those. They barely lasted an hour after I told her what was in there.”

She hums an acknowledgement. Sounds like she takes a sip of tea. “I remember someone else being quite fond of those cookies, too.”

“Well, they are the most popular cookies in the country, so.”

After haranguing you into admitting they’re for Seungcheol and not your roommate, your mother promises to send them quickly. A few days at most, which buys you enough time to figure out how you’re going to approach the man in question.

The vlogs have turned your entire world upside-down. Answered questions you hadn’t even known you had. Took all that anger and resentment you’d been holding onto and set it free, and now you’re just left with… a void. Want to mend things, and it makes you wonder if such a thing is even possible, if it’s too late, but you don’t let those thoughts get very far.

Instead, you let them spur you into action. Have you sitting in front of your laptop at your desk, office hours long since over, silence creeping in the more the department empties. The thrum of the airconditioning and the tick-tick-tick of the clock are all the only company you have.

You worry if it’ll show on camera, how out of sorts you feel: sweating from the nerves, dabbing at your hairline; cheeks warm to the touch. But you suck in a breath anyway, steel yourself. Look at your webcam and the daunting red circle…

And start recording.

He hadn’t gotten it at first. Not really.

There’d been a container of yakgwa outside his door with his USB drive taped to the top of it. No note—not that he needed one to know who it was from, but he wasn’t sure what it was. A goodbye? A please fuck off forever and never contact me again?

He’d just taken them inside. Ate too many of the cookies while feeling sorry for himself. Maybe had a glass or two of wine to compound the issue, and never, ever considered contacting you. Didn’t think he could bear it if you never wanted to see him again, but he just…

Well, he was drunk and alone and he missed you, and he’d rewatched all those videos he recorded a million times before when he was like this, so what was a million and one?

It’d been the same as every time before: he smiled at the happy parts, cried at all his old wounds. Wanted to reach through the screen and strangle his past self for including that part about the blind date, because he never wanted to date anyone who wasn’t you, why would he say that, felt mortified at the thought of you watching that—

And then there it was.

All the way at the bottom. A new video. One that hadn’t been recorded by him—

Hi, Cheol, you say, and that’s all it takes to reduce him to a sobbing, yearning mess. I’m not sure what to say here. I don’t really record much—sometimes for lectures when the professors are too busy, but never anything personal like this, but I watched every single one you made for me and I thought I should return the favor.

I wanted to tell you everything I’ve been up to since you left, but it hasn’t been much. I got my degree. Tutored a lot in undergrad—the same thing I’m tutoring you in now, actually. I was good at it and it felt good to have something that was mine, you know? I almost moved for grad school. Thought for a while I was going to wind up in New York, but then my parents divorced and it felt like too much, too scary, so I stayed. Kaori also stayed, so we got an apartment together. It’s not much, definitely not as nice as your place, but it’s good enough.

I don’t think I ever told you, but she was seeing a guy for a bit and he was… obsessed with you, to say the least. Thought you were the coolest person in the world. They aren’t seeing each other anymore. Ended pretty badly, but—speaking of which, maybe steer clear of Student Services for a while, too.

Sometimes it felt like failure that I wound up staying here. That I had scholarships from all these far-away, prestigious places and didn’t take advantage of them. That I gave into my fear. And now… I don’t know. Maybe there’s a reason I stayed behind. Maybe there’s a reason you ended up back here, too.

Whatever happens—I don’t want you to think I still blame you. Kaori says we do the best we can with what we’ve got at the time, and I understand now that’s what you did. Even though it hurt me, you were trying to protect me. I get it now. And I’m sorry you had to go through all of that alone. I can’t imagine how hard it must’ve been to go to all these places you didn’t know. To have to deal with your injury, the loss of a dream.

You said in one of your videos that you just want me to be happy, and that’s all I want for you, too, whatever that looks like.

Here’s my address if you ever want to come by to talk.

I love you, too.

—and then he’d been up and out the door, feeling stone cold sober, running to the front of his building to wait for his ride.

Felt like the drive took hours. Must’ve hit every red light between his apartment and yours. Took the steps two at a time just to get to your door faster.

There’s a man already standing outside your door when he gets there. One that looks shocked to see him, stars in his eyes, and when Seungcheol says, “Oh, you must be Kaori’s ex,” he looks more like he wants the earth to swallow him whole. Embarrassed in front of his idol.

He knocks on your door and gets no response. Knocks again, harder this time, and he has to try really hard to stifle his laughter when your voice yells from the inside, “Fuck off, Kenji, I already told you she’s not here!”

“It’s me,” Seungcheol yells back.

There’s quiet again. Just enough time for it to feel like his heart is going to beat right out of his chest and follow Kaori’s ex down the hall.

Then you’re yanking the door open—slowly, so slowly, like you’re scared it’s not actually him. Your eyes are brimming with tears when they meet his own, and he doesn’t let himself think, just goes on instinct, when he grabs for you, hands on your cheeks, and presses his lips to yours.

Somehow you taste the same.

Somehow you taste like redemption.

You taste like home.

Seungcheol kisses you until the tears slow. Kisses you until the universe realigns, until he could map your mouth in the dark. Kisses you until all you’re all he knows again.

When he pulls away, you’re gripping at his sweatshirt, don’t want to let him go. He presses his forehead to yours, offers up a million more apologies, starts talking nonsense. Says he’s going to drop microeconomics, what the hell does he know, he barely has a passing grade anyway, what does it matter, he’s such an idiot—

And then you say, “You came back,” and nothing else matters.

“I always will.”

(Later on, as you’re trying to steady your breathing, slick with sweat, your thigh thrown over Seungcheol’s hip as he stares down at you, dopey smile on his face, you say, “Choi Seungcheol, don’t you dare drop that class. I have worked my ass off to get you to barely-passing.”)

if you’ve made it this far thank you so much for reading! i am still very new at writing for seventeen, so i hope this was acceptable. i'm now going to throw myself into the warped tour vernon fic and will hopefully not go another 7+ months without posting anything. 😭

i would love to hear your thoughts! <3

[stxrvel]

the cliff (1)

hi guys! this is the first azriel fic i post here. i mainly do marvel but i just couln't stop thinking about this so i decided to take it forward. i hope you guys like this! see u next time <;33

summary: you never thought that the road to your mate could bring so much suffering… pairing: azriel x f!reader words: +4k warnings: briefly descriptions of torture, bad words, descriptions of sorrow¿?, angst but a happy ending, i think. also, English is not my first language and i actually read acotar in another language, so sorry for any mistakes! and also!! i haven't read a court of silver flames, so probably the facts around cassian and nesta's bond and feyre's pregnancy aren't accurate, sorry for that!

part 2: the house

part 3: the court

part 4: the routine

You were sure that the decisions you had made shouldn't have led you to that place. With your limp legs dragging against the grass, the wet feel of the mud drying coldly on your skin with each gale, increasing the chills that ran through your body, not only because of the dread and fear you had for your life, but because of the scorching frost on the top of that cliff.

There was something magical about wishing upon a shooting star. You knew it, your parents were living proof that it worked. They had met just after your mother had wished upon a dying star. Mates. And they promised you it would be the same for you. You hoped it would be the same for you when, encouraged by your same parents, you wandered Prythian in search of meeting the other end of the bond that you knew connected you to someone beyond, in search of a connection greater than you could ever understand.

You firmly believed in that magic one night, in the midst of the lonely and almost desolate journey from end to end, when lying watching the night sky you saw it pass by. A helpless shooting star.

You made your wish with your heart in your hand, closing your eyes and whispering as if it were a prayer. Maybe it was. You didn't know if that was what had gone wrong.

All you knew was that, the next day, your journey was over.

You hadn't finished waking up when you found yourself being dragged across the ground of the Day Court, right at the border it shared with the Night Court, from the hands of Ilyrian soldiers who wouldn't listen to your shouted words. Or simply preferred to ignore them.

You weren't sure how much you had screamed at them, even as they took you in the most savage way possible and furrowed you through the wind, the cold gusts of the Nightmare Court piercing your skin. But it had to have been a good while, because the next time you were above ground your throat was so dry you could barely breathe.

You didn't know what was going on, not even when days later, after feeding yourself with only mush and water, you met the first person willing to tell you something and not turn his face away from you. It was a man, Ilyrian too, with gigantic black wings that covered almost all the light in the small room where you were held captive. His constant presence invoked darkness.

He never introduced himself. He would only ask “who sent you?”, waiting for a sane answer from you, one that you couldn't give because every time you tried to say something that was not remotely like what he wanted to hear, he would move two fingers of his left hand and two more soldiers would enter the room and grab you roughly by the arms, pulling you closer to a barrel with water that was in the corner of the room. That was the water you usually drank, and it was never as cold as when they entered the room.

Needless to say, after a couple of days, you couldn't even go near the water anymore.

It could've been a couple of days, weeks or months… you weren't sure anymore. Time had become an insignificant concept compared to your desire for freedom. You had explained countless times to the Ilyrian the reasons why they had found you wandering near the Court, but that wasn't enough. Not even when you told him that they could confirm it with your family in the Summer Court. No excuse was good enough, the Ilyrian seemed to simply want to find a culprit, whatever he had to do, whoever he had to point the finger at.

And then, one day, you thought you saw a glimmer of hope. Another lone shooting star, which you barely caught through the bars the room had for windows. The memory of your parents flooded your memory, a dark cloud settling over you and drowning out any sense of calm you were able to collect after the ilyrians left. Through tears and sobs you begged the star for a way out, hoping its magic was powerful enough to fight the savage soldiers.

The next day more ilyrians than usual appeared, but they did not enter the room. Not after the High Lord of the Night Court did so first.

And you thought the star had heard you.

“She didn't say anything?”

His dismissive, indifferent tone almost made you shudder on the icy floor, but you didn't let that take away your hope, kneeling in front of him with dried tears and dirt on your face. With your hands clasped in front of you, as if he were a deity personified, you begged him to listen to you, but you had to watch him send you a disinterested glance before he turned in the direction of the entrance.

“Take her away.”

You didn't know why you had expected the high lord to intercede on your behalf, knowing the stories that brimmed through the Courts in Prythian. Your parents had warned you. They encouraged you to pursue the bond on your chest, but begged you to go no further than Court Day if the bond demanded it. They made you promise to return, and that they would then seek a way to find your mate if he or she was beyond the Night Court. You should've heeded, of course you did. When you saw the cold, emotionless eyes of the high lord's face, you regretted every decision you had made.

Even though you knew it shouldn't have been that way, because you had never done anything wrong. You had never tried to harm someone. Maybe that made it harder. Wondering every night why. Why did you deserve to go through that? What evil was it that you were paying for?

There was something magical about wishing on a shooting star, but that magic wasn't guarded for you.

-

Azriel had been spending sleepless nights for weeks now, without explanation. Things were quiet in Velaris, even in the Court of Nightmares. But when he entered the darkness of his room at night, when he tried to close his eyes with his wings spread across the bed, a knot stirred in his chest. Tears would well up behind his eyes and a sadness would engulf him from head to toe. It was so overwhelming that there were few nights when Azriel could contain the feelings and despair of his shadows.

He tried not to let that deficiency interrupt his work, but it was difficult when his eyes would close at the table during breakfast, or in the middle of the room when Rhys talked about the weekly goals. Several times his friends would start asking questions, but it was easy for Azriel to say he had trouble sleeping because that was never an uncommon occurrence over the course of his long life.

It was once Rhys told him that he had told Madja about his problem and she had sent him some herbs that it all started to get weirder.

Yes, Azriel was able to fall asleep. But every night he had strange dreams. Dreams of a life that was not his own. Memories of someone else he didn't even know. Another woman's life, somewhere Azriel could barely remember when he woke up, with more people who must have been close to her, but not to him, who shared her day to day life, who celebrated together with her, who were happy. Azriel didn't wake up much better in the mornings than when he spent the whole night without sleep.

Now he not only had to deal with the heaviness of lack of sleep, but with the questions. He could never think they were random dreams because he heard the same laughter every time, the same voice, the same place. He felt the same tranquility before waking up.

Azriel believed Madja would be his source of answers then.

“Your mate is looking for you,” the old woman answered him, one sunny day in Velaris when he chased her through her tent hoping she would answer his one question. That stopped him abruptly on his feet, his body from the abdomen upward leaning forward a bit from the suddenness of the movement.

“Mate?”

Madja barely hissed in response, a sound of affirmation that would haunt Azriel for several days afterward.

“How is that possible?”

“What?”

Madja was turning her back to him, her small body hunched over as she inspected the medicinal plants she kept for sale. Azriel watched them along with her, his mind moving through the threads of thoughts, between every memory of his dreams and every memory…of her.

“How can she do that?”

Azriel heard Madja sigh and the sound of metal followed as she dropped the gray watering can she had kept for years into place. Azriel could still remember the first time it had been seen, shiny and pompous in the Velaris sunlight. Madja's brown eyes roamed over his face and Azriel hadn't felt this way since the time when Rhys's mom had looked at him with loving motherly eyes.

“Don't ask me how the bond works, Shadowsinger. The Cauldron knows how it does things.”

Azriel could sleep less after that. Madja had left him with more questions than answers. And, on that note, Azriel began to fly over Velaris more often. For some reason, he felt she was close. The bond hadn't snapped into place yet, but he knew that the time was near when that would happen. He didn't even know if it had snapped for her yet, all he knew was that he had a mate over there, too far away from him, and too scared for him to stand idly by.

Eventually, Azriel had to talk to Rhysand. Rhys, his high lord, his best friend, his brother. Probably the only person in the Inner Circle who could fully understand how he felt at those moments. Because Azriel felt he was going to lose his mind if he didn't find his mate and end whatever suffering she was going through. The uncertainty was eating him alive and the hours of hopelessness and fear that were going on inside him, around that emptiness in his chest, did not ease things at all. If he felt this way from the comfort of his home, he didn't want to imagine what she was going through.

Rhysand agreed to allow him more outings to enlarge the perimeter of his search, but the passing days proved his effort fruitless.

“Everything okay, brother?”

Cassian had met his mate. Nesta, Feyre's sister. Azriel was very happy for him, very happy that his brothers had found their life mates and that he could realize the good they brought into their lives. But there was a huge shadow that haunted him, beyond the darkness he carried with him, and it had much to do with the guilt of not being able to find and deliver his mate from suffering. He no longer knew how much time had passed. His shadows stirred restlessly every day, with every memory, with every gale.

Azriel sighed when he felt Cassian's hand on his left shoulder, as they both stood watching Velaris from the top of a mountain.

“I don't know what to do anymore, Cassian,” Azriel let out, his shoulders slumping under the pressure and stress.

He usually didn't talk about the subject of his mate with his brothers, not as often as someone would think to be so close. It was something Azriel held close to his heart and wanted to resolve on his own, but so many failures were beginning to weigh him down.

Cassian patted his shoulder and then gave it a squeeze, trying to silently comfort him, though he knew that would do little to soothe the clamor in his soul. Because, though the bond hadn't snapped for Azriel, he could well believe that he had had it tugging at his chest in an unfamiliar direction for months now. Even if he didn't feel the bond, the mere acknowledgement of its existence was agony, especially when it didn't help him find his mate.

Cassian sighed beside him, letting a few seconds pass in silence before speaking again, his gaze fixed on Velaris' expanse and his heart shrinking at the visible suffering on his brother's face.

“Rhysand is traveling to the camp, will you accompany us?”

Azriel lately had little desire for anything other than touring Velaris and the surrounding area of the Court of Nightmares looking for his mate, but this time he decided to accept. For some reason, Azriel decided to accompany them.

The Night had been feuding with the Summer for a couple of years. Tarquin and Rhysand… were not on the best of terms. The last time Feyre had traveled to the Summer, pregnant with Nyx, Tarquin and his army had held her captive because of a misunderstanding in the information they had obtained from the Spring Court and the Mortal Lands. Rhysand almost destroyed the entire Summer Court with his bare hands if not for Cassian and Azriel, who were able to broker a deal between the two as mediators. It was a very tense time at the beginning.

Mind you, Rhysand did not leave without letting Tarquin know that it would be years before they would return to the same trade, diplomatic and friendly relations as before, if they could ever speak of forgiveness. Azriel remembered how the only person from the Night Court who could cross Tarquin's lands, for a time, was Mor. They were all warned and the meetings of the high lords were suspended, at least with respect to attendance.

For that reason, Rhysand became extremely wary of anyone connected with the Summer Court and for him, being the high lord, it was not too much work to know who wandered near his lands. They had already captured a handful of Summer Court spies in recent years and held them captive in camp with the Ilyrian soldiers.

Of course, the Night Court was much more careful with their spying, having Shadowsinger himself on their side. Azriel had visited the Summer Court a couple of times by stealth, handing Rhysand reports and any strategic breakthroughs he could decipher.

There was one, however, that they could not foresee. Someone Azriel never knew was coming out of the Summer Court. It had been a couple of years since then and it seemed the Ilyrians had been unable to break the spy's stone will.

“Are you going all the way to the mountain?” Rhysand had stopped in front of Azriel as soon as his feet touched the grassy ground, a few feet from the entrance to the camp. His eyes flicked briefly to the bustle behind his high lord, his shoulders tensing unconsciously as he took slow steps towards Rhysand with his hands in the pockets of his tunic and his wings tucked neatly behind his back. Cassian landed behind him, kicking up a layer of wet grass and mud that soiled his boots.

“Argh.”

“I think I'll be at a distance this time.”

Rhysand nodded, with no intention of convincing Azriel to accompany him to give the imprisoned spies of the Summer a death scare.

“I hope the screams are worth this mudslinging,” Cassian spoke up, moving closer to his two friends, forming a small circle. Rhysand barely gave him a glance before turning on his heels and beginning to make his way to the entrance of the camp, where some of the soldiers were clustered to see the high lord. “You're going to be in the bay?”

“Yes,” Azriel walked alongside Cassian, scowling at the entrance through which Rhysand had just crossed, the Ilyrian soldiers freezing in front of their high lord. “I'll watch from afar. Right now I don't have the stomach for anything.”

“I understand, brother,” Cassian squeezed his shoulder again amicably, sending him a tight-lipped look. Cassian was quite good with words, despite many labeling him as insensitive for being Ilyrian, but he knew Azriel well enough to know when he wanted to talk about something and when he preferred not to. “See you then.”

Cassian followed in Rhysand's footsteps, approaching in long strides, while Azriel paused watching his companions disappear into the distance.

Sighing, the knot in his chest tightened. It was so strange to have a void that could feel so many things. Azriel often wondered how it was possible that he still didn't feel the bond, when his emotions had expanded out of his head and there was no longer a feeling he didn't sense inside his bones.

Flapping his wings to take flight, Azriel set off towards the bay, close to the cliff where Rhysand planned to take the Summer Court spies. He was a few yards away, close enough to make out figures, but not too far away that he couldn't hear the screams.

As soon as his feet touched the ground, damp despite the early rising sun, his shadows began to stir around him, restless. They must've sensed his nervousness, the anxiety that ran through his chest like electric currents to his fingertips, causing him to spasm and break out in a cold sweat. Azriel could barely see them moving around him, separating from his body and stirring on the ground just a few centimeters before turning back.

At the top of the cliff he could already make out the figures of Rhysand and Cassian, walking menacingly towards the inmates, leaving them no choice but to keep walking backwards until they fell into the void, where Cassian would then land them, one by one. Azriel could hear them if he wanted to, but his mind and his shadows kept him a bit distracted.

He barely made out the first screams and the sound of Cassian's wings when his shadows began to whisper, much more restless.

Close.

Close.

Help.

Fear.

Help.

Azriel raised his head and his eyes stopped just short of Rhysand's figure in front of about three spies. At that moment, Azriel's shadows took off, moving at great speed across the grass and stones, with the Shadowsinger unable to do anything to stop them, though he tried. His confused gaze swept over the small figures on the cliff, with such speed that his head was beginning to ache, but he couldn't recognize anything.

He was about to fly in the direction his shadows had gone, when a strange, overwhelming sensation, somewhere between irrational fear and deep sadness, sent his back to the ground moving across his chest, as one of the figures slipped and fell into the void. Azriel felt all the air stolen from his lungs, opening his mouth to try to catch his breath, as those sensations coursed through his entire body and settled in his chest, taking strong root as if they belonged there. They were so overwhelming that they caused him physical pain. The ache he must've been feeling for months.

The bond.

The few remaining shadows beside him whispered endlessly.

Help.

Help.

Help.

Azriel raised his head, breathing hard. He felt his chest split open, as if with great force they were breaking his sternum to pull out his heart. It was such an overwhelming and painful sensation that, but for his strong will, he would surely have lost consciousness.

Help.

Help.

Mate.

Mate.

Azriel thought afterwards that he had never moved so fast or with such force as that moment, when he realized what was happening. The adrenaline that coursed through his body, even feeling electric currents run through him from head to toe from the precise moment he felt the bond, didn't allow him to think too much about how the air hurt his eyes because he already knew exactly where he had to go. He had spent so much time flying without direction, walking the wrong paths and searching in empty places. At that moment, when he had a reason and a direction, Azriel couldn't think of anything else. He didn't want to.

He could only look at the figure falling off the cliff from the moment he raised his head. He could only head blindly towards it. The overwhelming fear that threw him backwards was the fear she felt as under her feet she felt the void, her hands moving forward trying to hold on to something that would allow her to live.

Azriel felt like he was about to die with her.

He met Cassian halfway from afar, who seemed to be about to fly in her direction to catch her when he ran into his friend, but Azriel moved too quickly and with anticipation without losing sight of his mate. The chill that ran through his body could've paralyzed him with fear, but how could he stand by and do nothing when his mate was falling to her undisputed death.

He thought he heard Rhysand's scream. Surely it was so, but in his mind there hovered only the thought that he must reach her, he must get there in time. Her hands were outstretched and Azriel stretched out his hands, hoping that would help him move faster.

Mind blank, Azriel felt like he had just pulled his head out of the water, his chest opening in an unfamiliar thrill as his body felt the warmth of his mate's body crashing against him and his arms wrapped around her in a promise to never let go again. His wings wrapped around her immediately after his arms, impacting a few seconds later against the muddy ground.

He was too close to not catch her. The thought left him breathless.

For a moment, he only heard his and her labored breathing, with the whistling of the wind through the trees and the movement of the water of a stream a few feet away. For a moment, Azriel went completely blank. Whether he was there or dreaming, he didn't know.

His hands clamped tightly around her arms, encircling her entire back, feeling the reality of what had happened sink in on him bit by bit. Fear gripped him once more then, considering that there was a chance he hadn't been there to stop that. To prevent it.

He didn't want to move. Still adrenaline coursed through his body and he was so alert that he could clearly hear the voices of his friends in the distance. Seconds later, when he heard their wings, he finally moved.

Azriel met your eyes and with that look alone he knew you had felt the bond as well.

“I'm sorry,” was all Azriel could think of, his eyes crystallizing, voice breaking. “I'm so sorry.”

You were transfixed. Azriel felt you looking at him with fear and that motivated him to move away from your body, but you gripped his arms tightly to hold him in place.

Azriel felt a great heaviness in his chest as he examined your face and what he saw did not please him at all. Guilt swelled on his shoulders, a great weight that ascended with each passing second and he could hardly imagine all that you had had to go through in that camp. You were right under his nose and he couldn't find you. What kind of a partner was he to let all that happen?

When he heard the footsteps of his friends, his shoulders tensed. But it didn't go unnoticed the way you also became aware of their presence and let go of his arms, rushing to hug yourself as you moved to sit behind Azriel. scared. Still breathing rapidly, Azriel sent a warning look. Cassian and Rhysand stopped a short distance away, noticing the obvious hostility emanating from their friend's body, but Rhysand just stopped for a second.

“Azriel, what the fuck?”

Rhysand was so angry that he seemed to have a little red tinge over his face. Good, he was angry, maybe then Azriel wouldn't feel so bad about breaking his face.

“Rhys,” Cassian frowned, quickly picking up on the tense and hostile atmosphere around him. He grabbed the arm of his high lord, who jerked angrily and turned his gaze back to the Shadowsinger.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you aware of what you just fucking did?”

“Rhysand,” Cassian stopped his high lord, raising his voice and holding his arm tightly this time.

Rhysand turned to look at him with a frown and it seemed that, through his mind, Cassian spoke to him. The next time Rhysand looked back at him, his expression was unclenching, but Azriel stood stone-faced in front of you, his hands clasped at his sides and ready to face anything.

“No way,” was all Rhysand muttered, moving to run his hands through his hair.

Azriel felt one of your hands on his back, his senses splitting in half to try and attend to you as he kept an eye on his brothers on the other side. He moved his head to look at you, your frightened expression trying to hide you from Cassian's curious eyes.

“Is this real?”

Azriel felt his heart crumple. Tears welled behind his eyes and burning hurted the back of his throat. He wanted to say so many things, apologize for a million other things, but in that moment he only responded, moving to squeeze your hand:

“It's real.”

[harrysbelovedd]

casual [rafe cameron]

pairing - rafe cameron x reader

summary - when you hook up with your best friend rafe on a drunken night after a party, you can’t stop thinking about it. but rafe, is doing everything he can to stay casual.

warnings - cursing, friends to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort

Sitting at the island club with the warm sun hitting my face is usually one of my favorite activities in the summer on Figure Eight. But ever since I hooked up with my best friend three days ago, I’ve been dreading this event my parents dragged me to.

I sip quietly on my fruity drink, tuning out the sound of my parents mingling with the other guests. That is until, I hear the unmistakable sound of the Camerons walking in to the club.

My head turns at the sound of Rafe speaking lowly to his father as they walk in. Rafe stands next to Ward, seemingly angry at his father but—when isn’t he. On the other side of Ward is Rose, smiling brightly and saying hello to everyone. Sarah and Wheezie trail behind, Sarah running off to talk to Pope who is working catering with his dad.

Rafe looks over at my family’s table, his jaw softening from the tension his father caused when he sees me. I smile softly at him, waving him over.

What he does next throws me for a loop. Instead of smiling back and coming to sit with me, or drag me away from all this—he completely ignores me. He turns around and goes to sit at the Cameron table.

My heart drops and I swallow my nerves roughly, excusing myself to go to the bathroom. I wander through the club inside, being occasionally stopped by my parent’s friends making small talk and greeting me.

When I finally reach the bathroom I shut the door behind me and look into the mirror, finally allowing the tears to escape my eyes.

I knew we shouldn’t have hooked up. I knew it would ruin everything. Change everything. But the one thing I didn’t think of was that he would blatantly ignore me. We’ve been best friends since we were kids and he’s always protected me, been there for me, cared for me.

And now we hook up one night when we’re both drunk—and he acts like all of that means nothing. Regardless of how he feels about us hooking up, our friendship means something—everything.

I hear a knock at the door and quickly wipe my tears and reach into my purse to fix my makeup. When I open the door, I see Rafe. He smiles almost sympathetically which only makes me more angry.

“Hey, I-“

I scoff, bumping my shoulder into him as I push past him. He follows behind, “Y/n? Can we just talk please?”

“My bad, I figured you didn’t want to after you completely ignored me,” I say sarcastically, walking through the part of the club where no one is occupying.

He grabs onto my wrist, pulling me close to him. I push against his chest, trying to get away but his strength keeps me close. “Let go, Rafe!”

“Will you stop being so fucking immature,” He spits. “I couldn’t talk to you out there with everyone. We needed to be away, that’s why I ignored you.”

“Right,” I respond, my voice sharp as knives as I avoid his eye contact.

He sighs, loosening his grip. “Look, okay. We can’t—“ He presses his lips together, seeming to look for the right words. “We can’t do this. We have to forget about it, okay? It never happened. Just be casual,” He shrugs.

My eyes brim with tears, “Be casual.” I whisper. “Be fucking casual?!” I push hard against his chest.

“Yes, Y/n! This will never work, don’t you realize that? We need to just—just forget about it, okay?! It’s going to ruin our friendship if we don’t.” He explains.

I shake my head, tears rolling down my cheeks. “How am I supposed to be casual when you kissed me like that? The things you said to me that night? We may have been drunk but I remember every second of it. It’s burned into my mind, Rafe. It might be easy for you to forget—“

He scoffs, “You don’t think I remember every touch? Every kiss—everything?! I do, trust me. But this just—it won’t work. And I don’t want to lose you.”

His confession should be comforting, but it just feels like he stabbed me in the heart. I swallow roughly, wiping my tears with the back of my hand. “You just did, Rafe.”

I turn around and head straight for the front door. I hop into my car and drive home, never wanting to see Rafe again.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

I stare at my dark ceiling, fighting to sleep after tonight. But the only thing I can think about, is what I’m trying to forget. Rafe.

I close my eyes again, turning to the side and trying to force sleep.

I hear the sound of something at my window, a tapping sound. I get up and slowly walk to the window, peeking out of the curtains.

I see Rafe, leaning against a tree in my front yard as he jumps up, tossing rocks at my window. I sigh, opening the curtains all the way and then the window.

I stick my head out and look down at Rafe. He smiles, dropping the rest of the pebbles in his hand to the ground.

“Can you let me in?” He pleads.

“No.”

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay, um, I’m sorry. I fucked up, Y/n. It’s never been casual with you, and it never will be. You’re the only person on this fucking island I care about. I’d do anything for you, anything to get you back. I-“ He pauses, finding the words to continue. “I love you too much to lose you that easy. I’m just so terrified of hurting you. I’ve never loved anyone like I love you. This is all new to me, but I want to try.”

I close the window and pace out of my room, running down the stairs and out the front door. Rafe stands outside, staring at my window in defeat. But when he hears the door open, he smiles, watching me walk toward him.

“So.. what’re you saying, Rafe?” I ask when I stop in front of him.

He steps closer, cradling my face in his palms. “I don’t want to be casual. I want you to be mine. Please, give me another chance. I don’t deserve it, I don’t deserve you but I’ll spend every day making it up to you.”

A tear rolls down my cheek, his thumb quickly wiping it away. My hands trail around his neck as I stare into his eyes. He means it, every word. I can tell. One of the perks of knowing him so well.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” He smiles.

I nod, and before I could even process it—his lips are on mine. His thumbs rub along my cheeks as he cradles my face, pulling me impossibly close. This kiss is different than the ones we shared when we hooked up. It’s a kiss that feels, infinite. One I know that I’ll be able to share forever, not just one night.

A kiss that is completely un-casual.

[thedivinetarot]

Is this happiness?

Your views of love

☆How to chose the perfect pile for you?

1) Close your eyes.

2) Clear your mind.

3) Take a deep breathe.

3) Ask the question in your head. And the picture you are drawn to the most is your pile.

☆Note:

- This reading will help you reflect on how you see love, especially the romantic love.

- It also analysis your current energy.

- Before you chose any pile take a step and focus only on the intention of finding how you view love.

- Pile 4 is triggering, read at your own risk.

Stay safe❤

Arya

Pile 1

How's your current energy?

Hello pile 1🤍 (this pile is for people in committed relationship, if you are single or not seeing anyone then it is not your pile. Even if you have a crush or dating short-term or hooking up, kindly chose something else)

So, right of the bat I see that you may be a little bit ungrounded and you feel kind of imbalanced? I see that you may have had a disagreement with your partner. But not that big you broke up, no, he may be in the next room setting there doing his own thing. Or maybe he is trying to understand the problem from your perspective. I feel emotional guys, you both madly in love with each other so don't worry. The problem will be solved and you both will be able to look back and laugh of how silly it was. It is like a little disagreement between you two. He might be a water sign (Scorpio, Pisces or cancer) or he might have those placements. And you might be an earth sign (Capricorn, virgo and taurus) or you have those placements. I see you two had this disagreement because of a woman around you, she might be a friend of yours or his. Don't let her affect your relationship. Give yourselves some time then come back to discuss what happened or how you feel. Anyways, let's get into the reading.

How do you view love?

This pile’s energy is so sweet and innocent. They view love as this everlasting thing that make you stronger. You might be someone who was miserable and devastated before meeting your partner. And when your partner came into your life, you had this spiritual awakening and you started to realize how sad and depressed you were. I see that you may be someone who used to do alot of good things to people, you have like this cute little sunny energy but unfortunately people who was drawn to you wanted to suck up on that light. Or it might be your partner (take what resonates). Anyways, so when your partner entered your life he might opened your eyes and showed you the bigger picture if you know what I mean. He might helped you to be more authentic or powerful. I have this image of someone who was ungrounded or is clueless of their own potential and when your partner entered your life he helped you to be more aware of how powerful you are. So, you started to see love as this powerful energy that transform your deepest strength into power. I see that your partner might be older than you or he might be a gentle dominant. Like he doesn't really pressure you to do what you do not want to do. Also this pile is a sweetheart; you see love as belonging (I feel like crying). You might feel like your partner is your whole family, he is your home. He make you feel content and happy that your views on love are so pink and Disney like. I see that you see love through pink colored glasses. Love is that HUGE wonderful thing that you can feel with your partner. Your partner always elevate you and make you feel more confident in yourself. You might be someone who struggled with self worth and you always linked your outer beauty to your inner worth. It doesn't have to be but that's how you viewed yourself.

Thank you for reading

Stay safe🤍.

Pile 2

How's Your current energy?

This pile might have been dealing with spiritual awakening. I see you simultaneously trying to do shadow work but it is not over. If you constantly working on your negative beliefs and consume endless content about spirituality without taking breaks to reflect and reassess yourself you might get confused. I see you feeling sad and depressed, you may think that you belong no where. Your family life is chaotic and no one is there to understand what you are going through. You are in a transitional period. I see that the chapter you are trying to close is not finished so it cause you further frustration and you keep wondering if you are doing the right work or not. I see that from inside things seems chaotic; it is like you are on a roller-coaster, up and down. This is a part of spiritual awakening pile 2, you need to embrace it. I know it is hard and unpredictable but believe me you'll feel good after a couple of months. Try to meditate at night it will help you fall asleep, also you don't have to take everything on your shoulder. Try to break the task step by step. Try Journaling it is going to help you so much. I feel like there's still things that you need to work on in order for this chapter to finish but Do NOT try to rush healing. It takes time and effort but it will be worth it. Now let's get into the reading.

How do you view love?

You view love as stability pile 2. You want stability, you want long term commitment, you want someone whom you can depend on emotionally and you provide for them financially. You may be someone who take ages to trust people and let them into your life. I see that you are very generous with effort and money, you give your heart and serve it on a golden plate. I also see that trust is something very important. Like if you don't trust someone they will never know anything about you. I see that in the past you trusted the wrong people, you gave them everything you have that it caused you to feel devastated and frustrated. People might used you financially or for your money. I feel like this pile really like to support people by providing for them, you might give people that you love money, food, and other materialistic things like gifts and you do it A LOT. you are someone who is afraid to repeat the same mistake by giving people chances and helping them so you are now putting walls around your heart. I see that you are rejecting many romantic offers even if those people seem nice and your type. You don't want anyone pile 2. This pile is so generous financially tbh. Listen to me pile 2, there's nothing wrong with helping others but don't let the past define your future. Not everyone is interested in the materials, especially money. I mean yes money is important but it is not everything. And I'm sure you'll find good people whom you share your life and resources with. Also I feel like this pile like to watch others from afar and observe them. The dominant energy on this pile are earth signs (Virgo, Taurus and Capricorn). Anyways that's all I have for you pile 2.

Take care❤.

Pile 3

How's your current energy?

I see that this pile is isolated and if not isolated then you may be reflecting on yourself a lot. I see that you are pouring all of your focus inward. You truly are in the hermit mode. I see that some people in this pile are feeling nostalgic to someone, there's this urge of reaching out to this person. I think they miss you too pile 3, and if you don't reach out they will. I see a lot of feelings between you two you might be connected to each other on a spiritual level. Others in this pile are in fact are nostalgic to their childhood? You may be thinking of how you used to enjoy things in a child's wonder but it is not how it used to be. This pile are working on themselves, I see you may be doing inner work (meditation, reflection, shdow work) or outer work (losing weight, working out, trying to change something about your appearance like your hairstyle or hair color or your style). Anyways, I don't really see any dominant placements for this pile. I see also that this pile is living mundane life, like there's this unbreakable routine to you guys. Like you might be waking up, doing the same things that you did yesterday and then go to sleep in endless cycle. Try to get out pile 3, go watch the sunrise or sunset. Don't waste your life waiting for opportunities. Go make them yourself, make memories. Reach out to that person, play with children, book that trip. Do something pile three don't waste your time waiting for life to happen.

How do you view love?

See pile three now I understand why you are living like this. You are waiting for the kind of love that is going to set you on fire. What I mean you see love as this exciting and otherworldly thing? You might be influenced by movies and love songs. I don't know why I keep singing "off to the races by Lana Del Rey", this song has literally all the things you want in your love life. You want excitement, danger, possessiveness and awakening to your potential. See that one scene from the vampire diaries where Damon met Elena and heard her talking on the phone about breaking up with Matt, this scene here. That's what you really want pile 3. You might be someone who was in a long term relationship but after breaking up with that person you felt drained and tired. It left you collecting the pieces of your heart by yourself. I see that you took a lot of time healing. Ooooh yes I got it now pile 3! You might be someone who is afraid of the idea of love because you get sucked in and consumed by it. I see that you are someone who might have attachment issues, I see that you can get the love you desire but you need to figure out how your attachment style work. You can search about attachment style and see which one is yours so you can know how to deal with it. Also I do see that you need a partner who is going to keep your identity in the relationship without really losing it. I think that's what you need pile 3 to keep your identity without being mixed and dissolved in one another and a lot of passion and this giddy nervous feeling. I see! That's why you are waiting for things to happen instead of making them, because that thing you consider is very hard to get. But you can have something like that if you find the right person. Sorry that I didn't write a lot in this pile since I included many things that suggest how you view love.

Take care pile 3 and stay safe❤.

Pile 4

How's your current energy?

Pile 4 Are you being challenged on your healing journey? I see that you either been challenged or you are being bullied by someone. I see that this person has a nasty energy. They are not leaving you alone and they are always picking up fights with you. Like they love how you react and how tormented you feel. This person is literally draining the light out of you. I see that someone is being abusive to you. I don't see a partner here and if it is please you don't have to stay with them. It is like someone here is being abused and challenged, like cornered by someone else. I see that this person (whoever that person is) isolating you and paralyzing you. You might be grounded? I mean in your house? I see that you are trying to pick up the courage to face them, please do it Pile 4 so you can get rid of them. Returning to the first case; if there's no one abusing you, then you might be feeling challenged on your healing journey. There's this beliefs that is keeping you stuck or paralyzed you are isolating yourself because you are afraid of someone hurting you. I'm seeing that you were being treated unfairly by others. So, as an outcome you became so afraid to live authentically again. I see that this fear is taking the light out of you. But I see courage, like you started to realize that there's light at the end of the tunnel. And that you shouldn't be afraid because you already took the lesson. And now I see that you are trying to enjoy life after being afraid of it. This pile has also mixed placements so I don't see any need to writing it down here.

How do you view love?

This pile got the worst cards and it is so terrible. As a tarot reader I've never seen something like that before, at first you got good cards but then the bad ones kept jumping out. So, I returned them and reshuffled but they fall again soo🤷🏻‍♀️. Okay let's start out, I see that this pile see love as a torment love story. At first you tell yourself that everything is amazing and great and there's this sharing of resources between two partners and then boom everything is going to turn out to be abusive and heartbreaking. You guys might have dated a lot of narcissists. John and the letter K can be significant? I don't know why all of sudden I get that. Anyways, you know how narcissists at first treat you so well you think that is too good to be true and your prince charming has finally arrived but then everything suddenly turn 180° with them. Like they start controlling you, limiting your interactions, then they isolate you to abuse you furthermore and then after they take what they want they leave you for someone else. This pile’s view of love is very sad and distorted. I see that you view love as devastation. Like you might die because of it. You might be someone who has been to a lot of karmic lessons with narcissists or people who have extreme mental problems. You might see yourself as their savior but I return to you getting abused and mistreated. I see that a lot of times you were the victim in a relationship that you thought was love but it is not love pile 4! Number 5 is significant, you might be life path number 5, or your birthday have this number. Love is pure and genuine, this pile is almost the opposite of pile 1 (you can read it to know how they view love). Listen pile 4, love is something so pure, so gentle and heart warming. But what you felt wasn't love. It was attachment, manipulation and control. It was not love! Also love put you at ease, I see that you may be someone who might have CPTSD. Now I got it pile 4! That's why at the beginning of this reading I felt like someone is mistreating you! Hey don't let that person play you and walk away. Start walking away from that situation, move on. There's plenty of people out there who are going to treat you well. And if you are already walking away then I'm saluting you. Stay strong pile 4. You can do it! I believe in you!

Stay safe❤.

Post date: 29th/Aug/2024-Thur

*Feedback is appreciated

[pitchsidestories]

All the rumours are true II Leah Williamson x Reader

arsenal women masterlist

Leah Williamson's Instagram story

Her music is amazing ! Love her latest Single! 😍

Williamson_Babe Is Y/N refering to Leah in her lyrics when she sings North London forever?! 👀

Musiclover96 Omg, I bet she does. Are they dating? That would be iconic.

The september morning light was streaming through the large windows of your girlfriend's appartement while you both were drinking your first coffee of the day.

With an amused look on her face Leah read the latest comments on her instagram story before showing you one observation a fan made:"And are they right? Is that line about me, darling?"

"Which one?", you asked giggling.

The blonde defender let out a small huffed noise:"The North London part?" A teasing smile appeared on her pretty lips before she continued:"Or did you just try to show you're an Arsenal?"

You could not help but blush as you were currently wearing one of Leahs old Arsenal jerseys, simply because it was your favourite sleeping shirt, especially when the football player or you were apart from eachother due to your busy careers.

"Actually it was an ode to my flatmates when I first moved to London.", you mocked her in return.

Not really convinced by your answer Leah wanted to know:"Oh really? Who was it?"

"You know them, we'll meet them for dinner next friday, love.", you reminded her in a nonchalant tone.

The blush from earlier came back as you confessed:"But the fans are right, I wrote the line when I was thinking about you."

"I thought it was dedicated to your flatmates.", the defender throw an eyebrow up.

"It's for them and you. Soon they will be my former flatmates considering I'm moving in with you on friday.", you drew gentle circles with your fingers on your girlfriends arm.

Jokingly Leah replied:"Unless you decide that you miss them and want to move back in with them."

"Right."

"It's possible.", Leah shrugged with her shoulders before hugging you from behind and resting her head on your shoulder.

You could feel her strong arms around you, making you feel grounded in this exact moment.

Because that's what you were for eachother, lovers who could be one true self, leaving the public figures label behind at the front door.

Carefully, you pulled yourself out of the hug and walked over to the kitchen counter to make yourself another cup of coffee and while you were at it, poured your girlfriend another one too while casually changing the subject, "When did you say was your next home game again?“

With an innocent smile you set the cup down in front of her. Leah eyed you warily but with an amused smile on her lips, "Why? Do you want to come and make the fans speculate even more?"

"No, I want to support you.", you answered and grabbed Leahs cap from the counter and put it on, "I could even wear an undercover look, see?"

With a laugh your girlfriend nodded, "I‘m sure that‘ll work."

You put your hands under your chin, blinking at her with big eyes, "As Miss Undercover in the stadium."

"I won‘t stop you if you‘d like to go.", Leah grinned, obviously not unhappy with that idea herself.

You caught the hint and as you sat down at the kitchen table again, you asked, "But would you like me to be there?"

Leah leaned over to you to press her lips onto yours and mumbled into the kiss, "Maybe."

When she pulled back, she snatched her cap from you and put it down on the table. "I take that as a yes.", you laughed as you watched her stride across the room to your record player.

On the first few notes, you recognized the song she put on as your newly released single.

Leah was slowly swaying to the music, smiling, as she confirmed, "You should take it as a yes. I would love to have you there."

You raised your eyebrows at her in amusement , while you watched her moving around in her old oversized shirt that she slept in last night, "Is that what you call a dance?“

"No, I'm very convinced this is a dance.", the defender stated confidently while she took your hands in hers so you two could move together to the tunes coming from the record player.

"Lee, we didn't even had breakfast yet.", you laughted out loud because of you're girlfriend's goofy mood.

"You need breakfast for that?", Leah asked you with a teasing smile.

You shook your head:"No, but I don't want the bacon to burn."

"I can take it out while dancing with you.", the blonde woman replied in a flirty tone.

Arsenal Wfc Instagram Post

arsenalwfc Look who came to watch our game today 👀

katiemccabe Does she know I excist? 😏

leahwilliamson In your dreams McCabe 🙄

Giggling Beth greeted you with a hug, while you both got seated in the stands at the Arsenal match a few days later:"Hi y/n, you and Lee are both terrible at the undercover looks."

"Excuse me, we thought this is perfectly fine.", you answered in a playfully offended tone.

Not in the slightest convinced the injured striker said; "Sure, no one will notice you."

"So, not good?", you sighed.

Amused the blonde looked at you:"No."

"Awful,  the fans will recognize you.", Vivianne remarked grinning.

Her girlfriend suggested in her jokingly manner:"You can try to hide behind Viv."

"Yeah that definetly works, you and Beth are the same height.", the dutch woman nodded.

"Thanks guys."

"You're welcome.", Beth winked at you.

Excitedly you jumped off the seat as Leah made one of her rare goals:"Oh my god Lee scored!"

"Leah!", the blonde striker shouted her teammates name beaming proudly.

Happily Vivianne observed:"She's coming to us."

"Can she celebrate anymore subtle?", Beth rolled her eyes.

Vivianne pointed a thumb in your direction as you excitedly waved down to your girlfriend, "Worst Miss Undercover ever." "They‘re both bad.", Beth agreed more amused than actually annoyed.

Now it was the dutch strikers turn to roll her eyes, "Honestly. Throwing kisses to each other like the love birds they are." "It‘s disgusting."

As Leah went back to her position on the field, you turned around to the couple, "You two know I can hear you, right?" "We do but we thought you were too busy celebrating with your girl.", Beth shrugged.

With a smirk, you winked at her, "We‘ll be even more busy after the game." "Too many details!", Vivianne groaned and grimaced in disgust. Beth just shook her head, "Oh god."

"You can tell that they have not lived together for that long yet.", Viv commented. Beth slipped a hand on her girlfriends arm, "They‘ll grow out of it soon."

"Once routine settled in." With a smile on your lips, you only listened half-heartedly. Your gaze was fixed on Leah playing. You knew you would never get tired of her.

Alex Scott Instagram Story

She knows all of Y/N lyrics. Such a fangirl 😂

A few weeks later, Leah was standing in the crowd of one of your concerts in London. Alex Scott was accompanying her. The former football player snapped a few photos of Leah singing to your songs. "Look at you, Lee. You‘re so in love." "In love?", she repeated surprised. "Yeah, you definitely look like it." Leah gave a small shrug and a wry grin, "I guess I am." Alex looked satisfied, "It suits you." "Thanks."

Both of them were ushered backstage during your last song. "Hi, did you enjoy the concert, girls?", you greeted them, wiping sweat of your forehead with a towel. Leah went in to hug you, "We did. You were great tonight."

Alex could not help but tease the defender: "Leah knew all the lyrics." "They're my favourite songs.", the blonde defended herself, grinning sheepishly. You could not help but tease her:"Especially the North London song, right?" "I think a line of it will be my next tattoo.", Leah thought out loud. Innocently you asked, while kissing her blushed cheek:"So we'll do a partner tattoo?"

[flowershines]

can you do reader giving jake a head while jake is in front of his computer desk having a meeting with his colleagues 😵‍💫

{warnings} ⇨smut, fluff (if you squint), blowjob

not proof read

Shallowness surrounded your apartment while you laid down turned towards the wall scrolling aimlessly on social media as you hoped your boyfriend would get home soon. You were always very understanding of your boyfriend being an idol but it’s also very hard to see him work himself till he breaks, as he has been doing for the past few weeks which gave you both no time to see each other. When he would step foot in your apartment you would already be passed out, he would usually walk over to you as he made sure you were comfortable in the blankets and kiss your forehead then would lay down next to you.

He would leave before you could wake up as the day repeats itself throughout the week. Hours had passed while you waited for your phone to brighten up your face with his text being displayed on your screen but the only thing that would brighten your day was watching your boyfriend and his members do their lives, it gave you comfort knowing he was alright. His hair was frizzy which made his hair lay mesially on his forehead, your eyes trailed down to his collarbone as the necklace you had got him for his birthday laid loosely above his shirt which brought out his muscles.

His head rolled towards one side then towards the other as he cracked it while suddenly looked at his phone which brought your text to his attention, he picked his phone up and said it was an emergency as he walked out of the hotel room and into the hall only to see your phone light up from his contact calling you. You couldn’t help but get a rush of excitement running through your veins as you found out it was him, answering the call you heard his husky voice go through one ear and out the other. “Hey gorgeous, I'm sorry I couldn’t get back to you earlier. I’ve been busy all day plus I have to stay all night and have a conference with the members to talk about our comeback.”

He said as he huffed out the last sentence you could tell from the way his demeanor changed that he was filled with stress which caused you to nonchalantly pout slightly, “So I can’t see you tonight?” a sigh was heard from the other line “No, i’m sorry baby. You could come over to Hybe so that way during any free chances I can spend it with you.” his voice changed slightly into a more upbeat one as the thought came to his mind. “Of course I will baby, do you need anything from here?” “Nah, I'm okay. Please hurry over, I can't stand another minute if you're not here in my arms.” Hanging up the phone you immediately shot up from your spot that had previously left you rotting in the bed, walking swiftly towards the door you grabbed your slippers then walked straight to your car.

His touch could make your knees weaken, his voice could bring tears to your eyes, everything about him looked like god had shaped him into the perfect man. You were always lucky to have the best boyfriend ever. Sometimes you doubted yourself but wouldn’t try to focus too much on it. On your drive there a smile was prominent on your face, you always missed him when he was away yet this time felt way more different than any other it started to turn from an ache to a pain. It wasn’t like he had no idea what you were feeling. If anything he was feeling way more worse due to all of his stress, missing you, his family, comeback after comeback. You just wish he would get a break.

Pulling into the parking lot you could not wait to get inside, grabbing your essentials you walked into the building and headed straight to the lobby as you were met by a bunch of their staff as they were leaving for the day since the live had ended. You loved the staff, they were all so supportive of your’s and Jake’s relationship and they were always sweet to you making sure that you never felt left out, “Hey Y/n, they are all still upstairs waiting for the conference room to open up but I have to go home. I'm exhausted. Have a good weekend sweetie.” one of the staff members had told you. “Thank you, you too. Sleep well.”

Heading towards the elevator you got up to the level where she had told you where all the members were, as the door opened you saw your boyfriend who was waiting on the couch in front of the elevator. Looking up you saw his face light up as he saw you, he didn't even give you any time he ran into the elevator with you instantly wrapping his hands around you. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders as he leaned down to hug your waist, the sounds of soft whimpers and sobs pulled you out from the crevice of his neck as you looked at his face. Tears fell from his eyes, “Baby.” you said as you brushed his hair out of his face and played with his hair as he pulled you tighter.

“I-I.. Y-y/n-n…” Not a single word was able to fall from his lips, his words were weakened and soft. It broke your heart you could not handle seeing him like this. You just wish there was some other way you could cheer him up, yet he has to spend the whole night in this building just like most nights. You shushed his words as you walked him back to the couch, you knew he would not break down like this infront of the members so thankfully they went into the nearest room when they heard Jake’s broken down voice.

Rubbing his back he pulled away from your shoulder as he tried to rub off his tears that stained your shirt “Oh, baby don’t worry about that. What happened?” pulling him to the couches you had him sit down, “Just everything, it’s too stressful.” His eyes started to water, you pulled your long sleeve down further past your fingers as you wiped his tears away as you listened to him pour his heart out of all of his stresses. “Calm down, we can talk more about it when we get home but it is 10:30.” He stood up instantly and wiped his tears urgently walking into the conference room as he would wait for the rest of the members to show up. You walked him to the room and saw how the table looked like it was divided at the bottom of it, “I don’t wanna go I just wanna go home.” he whined “The faster you get this over with the faster we can go home.” grabbing your hand he pulled you into the room with him.

“Don’t leave me please, I can hide you.” You giggled at his comment as he pulled you further into the room, “Please, for emotional support. You can hide under the table, it's closed off, they won’t even see you.” “Jak-” “Please.” he begged while you rolled your eyes, giving in to his saddened state. “Fine.” Ushering you to the floor and having you crawl under the table as the other members started to fill in the empty chairs, while they made sure Jake was okay.

As they talked about the most recent upcoming events they have planned you couldn’t help but play with Jake’s shoelaces due to complete boredom, he could not sit still. His hips were constantly moving and shifting in his seat, tapping on his knee you made him know that everything was okay yet that wasn’t the case on why he was so anxious.

Lowering his hand from being placed on the table to now grabbing your hand and placing it on his pants inching closer and closer to his cock, this man never surprised you anymore how he can go from devastated to horny in minutes. Running your fingers along the edge of his cock his foot tapped at you as he sat back more further into his seat, even though the members were talking you could hear his shaking breaths. Unzipping his pants you went as slow as possible trying not to make any noises that the members could hear, his breath hitched causing some of the members to stop and look at him. Taking his cock out while licking the tip his body language screamed tense, shoving his cock in your mouth you put him as far as you can down your throat.

He grabbed your hair tight as possible and pushed you down as far as you can go, the feeling of his shaved pelvis on your nose caused you to swallow due to the sudden itch. As you tried not to gag on him the sound of everybody wrapping up and packing up their thing’s multiple ‘goodbyes’ were heard, the footsteps lead out of the room as Jake rolled his chair out giving you room to crawl out. Getting back onto your feet you tucked his cock back into his pants which caused him to whine and beg you to ‘keep going’ but you just wanted to have sex with him in your bed. “Let’s go home, we can finish this later baby.”

[simbury]

How I got my Sims 2 game working on my new Windows 11 laptop, step by step.

OKAY. Gadies and Lentlemen.

I have seen plenty of these around, but I wanted to share my process!

So I bought an MSI creator laptop. The specs are as follows:

CPU: 13th gen Intel i7-13700H

RAM: 16 GB DDR5

GPU: NVIDIA GeForce RTX 4050 laptop GPU

Step One: Fresh install. I used the EA App to install the UC version on my new laptop.

Step Two: Download and install RPC launcher. This will automatically apply the 4gb patch. Run as administrator, but not in any kind of compatibility which renders the 4gb patch useless.

Step Three: Download and install Graphics Rule Maker. I used all of the recommended settings, aside from texture memory which I set at 2048 mb for reasons that will become clear later.

Step Four: Memory allocation fix (empty standby list). Explanation here.

Step Five: Setting virtual memory. I used instructions from this post at MTS - My virtual memory paging file is now minimum of 25000 and maximum of 30000. You'll need to adjust to your system's own specs.

Step Six: In game settings. Shadows Off. Neighbours Off. Lighting Medium. RPC Settings. Apply 4GB patch. Automatically Clean Cache. Lot Imposters Optimized. Sim/Object Shadows Classic. I also have lot view ocean reflections ticked.

If your game works like this with no flashing and crashing, awesome. Mine did not. I firstly tried several different texture memory sizes, but they had 0 impact.

I believe the next step is only for NVIDIA cards, but may be wrong.

Step Seven: DXVK. The most recent version from, here. There are plenty of instructions on how to install out there. But make sure you install the 32bit version. I have these two following lines in my DXVK.conf file (and do make sure it is saved as a conf file, NOT a txt or similar).

d3d9.maxAvailableMemory=2048

d3d9.presentInterval=0

The first line corresponds to the texture memory mentioned earlier. DXVK installs won't recognise more than that and having it higher can cause crashes apparently. The second line... No idea what it does but it was mentioned in several guides and reddit posts.

I don't know if the newer versions of DXVK allow fullscreen mode as the older ones did not, but I play in borderless mode anyway which works.

I also delete my thumbnails folder every so often.

I hope this helps someone, this silly old game can be cantankerous but I was determined to get it running again!

[clarionglass]

gang,,,,, gang. i am honestly still reeling from The game changer account reblogging the comic,,,, my god. my god.

for newcomers: welcome! thank you for being here!! for those who may have only seen the part of the fic linked to the comic, this is part 6 in the series (because truly i cannot stop myself). all the other parts are linked in the lil game master cinematic universe blurb i've got down the bottom of the post, and the whole thing is now on ao3!

and speaking of my lil blurby thing, if anyone else wants to play around in the game master cinematic universe, tag me so i don't miss it and i'll add whatever you make to the list!! and if you just want to chat about the crossover, hit me up! truly i am so happy to have as many people playing in this sandbox as want to be here :D

but anyway, without further ado:

a selection of correspondence (game master cinematic universe, part 6) | read on ao3

From: Sam Reich (@dropout.tv) To: Group <Dropout cast and crew> Subject: Announcements and info

Hi all,

Just a quick announcement that we have a new member of the team joining us at Dropout! Some of you have met him already, although you may not have realised it—he worked on A Game Most Changed and Escape the Greenroom in season 5, and Bingo, Deja Vu, Beat the Buzzer and Sam Says 4 in season 6, doing some of the hosting in my place.

And before you ask how that can be, this man is my exact doppelganger! He’s a time traveling alien who, for the moment, we are calling Other Sam, because we’ve agreed that the name he’s chosen is not exactly appropriate in a workplace setting. He’s here on a kind of rehabilitation program, as shows like Game Changer provide the sort of enrichment that he needs, without him having to resort to things like planetary conquest and murder. We also have him to thank for our new studio—he has kindly allowed us to use his (currently grounded) spacetime machine to record in, seeing as he did blow up our original studio. On an operational basis, nothing should have changed with the studio, but I do recommend you don’t go poking around in cupboards, just in case.

I promise on everything dear to me that this is not a joke.

I hope you’ll all make Other Sam feel welcome! So there’s minimal confusion between the two of us, he and I will be taking care to differentiate ourselves (he says he will try and look, in his words, “more evil”, although I’ll admit I’m not quite sure how that will work).

Series leads and producers, if you would like to include Other Sam in one of your shows, please let me know. He’s a lot of fun to work with, and he’s promised us his best behaviour, so I can guarantee there will be none of the aforementioned planetary conquest and murder. Of course, the wellbeing of all Dropout cast and crew is my highest priority, so if any of you are not comfortable working with him, please let me know as well, and production and I will ensure you are not cast in the same episodes. In future seasons of Game Changer, we will be sharing the hosting duties, so if you’re on an episode, it’ll be made clear which of us you’ll be working with.

On a related note, you know I hate being the bearer of bad news about mandatory seminars, but there is a training seminar next Monday on psychic defence techniques. This seminar is a requirement if you’re going to be working with him, and even if you’re not planning on that, I’d strongly advise coming along anyway.

As always, if you’ve got any questions, don’t hesitate to get in touch!

Cheers, Sam

---

[Note: many responses with the general sentiment of “what the fuck?!” have not been included in the selection of return correspondence.]

---

From: Brennan Lee Mulligan (@gmail.com) To: Sam Reich (@droput.tv) Subject: Re: Announcements and info

I need this man in the dome immediately. 

---

From: Siobhan Thompson (@gmail.com) To: Sam Reich (@droput.tv) Subject: Re: Announcements and info

Hi Sam,

Many thanks for your email, and for letting us know about Other Sam. You don’t need to confirm or deny this, but I’m assuming he did something to us during the Deja Vu recording. I haven’t felt entirely comfortable around you since then, and until now I haven’t been able to find a logical reason why. You mentioned psychic defence techniques in your email, so I take it that there was some kind of mental fuckery involved—perhaps a memory wipe? 

I don’t know what he did, and I’m not sure I want to know, but whatever it is, I don’t think it’s good. I would very much appreciate it if I don’t have to work with him.

Best wishes, Siobhan

---

From: Grant O’Brien (@gmail.com) To: Sam Reich (@droput.tv) Subject: Re: Announcements and info

Hey Sam,

I’m already digging up info for a Breaking News segment. There’s someone on reddit called scarfytwin who says they might be able to give us some good info, but I might need to sign a few things first? Looks like it’s tangled up in some British government stuff, which is wild. Sounds juicy, whatever it is, and I reckon it would be good payback…

Best, Grant

---

From: Lou Wilson (@gmail.com) To: Sam Reich (@droput.tv) Subject: Re: Announcements and info

Man, are you telling me that Samuel Dalton was kind of a real fucking thing?? No way. If you let me punch him *hard* one time I’ll go on any show with him.

Cheers, Lou

---

From: Brian David Gilbert (@gmail.com) To: Sam Reich (@droput.tv) Subject: Re: Announcements and info

Hi Sam,

This explains a lot about the weird feelings I’ve been having since Deja Vu! I know something terrible probably happened during that recording, but I’d love to just sit down with Other Sam and have a chat. Do you recommend we just meet in a professional context, or would that be something you’re able to organize?

Thanks, Brian

---

From: Zac Oyama (@gmail.com) To: Sam Reich (@droput.tv) Subject: Re: Announcements and info

Cool.

---

From: Ally Beardsley (@gmail.com) To: Sam Reich (@droput.tv) Subject: Re: Announcements and info

Absolute freak behavior and i love this for you, sign me up for anything!

---

From: Mike Trapp (@gmail.com) To: Sam Reich (@droput.tv) Subject: Re: Announcements and info

Hi Sam,

Huh, that sure explains some things. This will probably be cool in future, but for right now, I think I need to do a bit of processing. I’ll let you know!

Cheers, Trapp

---

From: Vic Michaelis (@gmail.com) To: Sam Reich (@droput.tv) Subject: Re: Announcements and info

Hi Sam,

Intriguing! If you think he’d be up for the prosthetics, I’d love to have either of you on Very Important People next season. Both of you together would be even better!

Vic

---

From: Lily Du (@gmail.com) To: Sam Reich (@droput.tv) Subject: Re: Announcements and info

Hey Sam,

I’ve had a chat to Grant, and I would love to put this guy on Dirty Laundry. Grant says he’ll share what he finds out from the reddit person with me, and we might be able to make a good episode happen.

Cheers, Lily

---

From: Sam Reich (@dropout.tv) To: Other Sam Reich (@dropout.tv) Subject: Fwd: Announcements and info

Well, most people seem to have taken it well! Looks like we’ll be having some fun…

---

From: Other Sam Reich (@dropout.tv) To: Sam Reich (@dropout.tv) Subject: Re: Fwd: Announcements and info

“Not exactly appropriate in a workplace setting”?

---

From: Sam Reich (@dropout.tv) To: Other Sam Reich (@dropout.tv) Subject: Re: Re: Fwd: Announcements and info

We discussed this. You agreed.

---

From: Other Sam Reich (@dropout.tv) To: Sam Reich (@dropout.tv) Subject: Re: Re: Re: Fwd: Announcements and info

I most certainly did not. I said “hm”. “Hm” does not count as agreement.

---

From: Sam Reich (@dropout.tv) To: Other Sam Reich (@dropout.tv) Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fwd: Announcements and info

You do know this is a group of people who I can guarantee, on hearing the word “Master”, would react the exact same way Grant did?

---

From: Other Sam Reich (@dropout.tv) To: Sam Reich (@dropout.tv) Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fwd: Announcements and info

Fine. “Other Sam” it is.

---

missed an installment of the game master cinematic universe?

original idea by @ace-whovian-neuroscientist: x

art by @northernfireart concept: x scissor sisters sketch: x sam and his doppelganger: x escape the death beam: x

by @bloopdydooooo drawing collection: x

writing by me (!) part one (escape the greenroom): x part two (deja vu): x part three (sam says 4): x part four (you think you know someone): x part five (point and counterpoint): x part six (a selection of correspondence): you are here!

[h2llish]

【╰ヾ❝ COULD'VE BEEN ✧„

VIL SCHOENHEIT ── when it could've been ☆ angst, heartbreak, requited feelings, gender neutral, lowercase intended, not proofread

inspired by my fic from me to you

he remembered the moment you came to him, with a smile so sad and ready to be rejected as you gave him a envelope with your handwriting at the top, for vil. with it, a rose wrapped safely in ribbon. by the look on your face and the shyness in your tone as you gave it to him, he could guess what was in the letter tucked inside the envelope must've been important, at least to you. you didn't bother to wait for him to open and read it, you didn't seem to want a response if he did, only apologizing and thanking him before turning away.

rook was with him, with a knowing look that looked a little sad in similar to your smile. he questioned it, but rook brushed him off in rook fashion, telling him it wasn't his place to speak on your behalf. what did he know that vil didn't? the actor wondered silently but trusted his friend despite his question and worry for you.

so vil tucked the letter away and waited till he was alone in his room. as the day ended and he finished his night routine, he sat comfortably on his bed and grabbed the letter.

dear vil,

i've written this letter six times now, and i know that if i continue to read over this, i'll never gather the courage to give it to you. so please excuse how messy it is, and the mistakes you may possibly find.

by the time you get this, i'll be ready to leave for my world. ortho found me a way home, and i wish to return there, even though i'll miss a lot of people here. i'll miss you the most. i'm sorry you had to find out through a letter, a lot of my friends remained unaware, but when you get this, they'll all know just like you.

perhaps you've caught on, but rook was one of the few who knew, he also knew you were going to receive this letter. but, if you are upset at all, please don't be upset with him. i asked him to keep things to himself, he wasn't even meant to know. he was just respecting my wishes.

to the reason of my letter, this is where it might get messy, i hope you understand.

vil, i think you're wonderful, amazing even. while i know how we started off may not have been the most eventful or greatest, you've been respectful. even after you overblot, and forgive me for bringing it up, you've been nothing but kind to me and i thank you. when you offered your own money to ramshackle and then helped rebuild it when it was damaged, i was incredibly grateful.

you work hard, and you care about your dorm. not everyone may see it, but i do vil. you've done your research, have gotten to know everything about your dormmates, and made diets and routines just for them. it shows you really care.

we've gotten close. i care about you, and i think you care about me. we're friends.

but i'll be honest with you, my feelings for you have become more. i'm falling in love with you. i understand if you don't feel the same, i'd feel better if you don't, knowing my feelings were unrequited so i can leave with the guilt of only leaving my friends.

i'll probably be gone by now, and if not, i ask that you don't approach me. i wouldn't be able to keep myself together if you do. i want to go home, nothing will stop me from doing that. i'm sorry we can't have a proper goodbye, but for my own reasons, selfish i understand, i can't face you so this will have to do.

goodbye vil. and thank you for being my friend.

perhaps things could've been different.

sincerely, your friend, [name].

romantic feelings were new for the actor, you were the first person he'd felt anything for. he loved you; he realized as he sat there, hair pulled back neatly and mask on his face. he pinched the end of the letter in his feelings, relaxing when he worried he would tear it.

he respected your wishes in the letter, remaining in his room as he read over the words once more. although it was heavy on his shoulders, he knew even if he had left to confess his requited feelings, your decision would have never changed.

perhaps things could've been different, but you'd always choose your home, and he could not blame you.

patting myself on the back for managing to write something even if it's short. my headaches chilled out again and i took advantage.

do not repost, translate, copy or run my writing through an ai

[beyondthesefourwalls]

This Love Came Back to Me (13-Final)

Summary: You and Bradley hadn’t ended on bad terms; really, you stopped before the two of you could even truly begin. Still, in the last seven months, you had never completely left his mind. So when you suddenly appeared in front of him at the bar, asking for a favor and pulling him into a kiss, he thought maybe it was the perfect opportunity to see if this time, things could be different. But what neither of you realized was that there’s more going on than just rekindling a lost romance, and it might not be as easy as simply just wanting it. 

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader (no use of y/n)

Warnings: second chance romance, language, smut and allusions of smut, stalking, breaking and entering, violence, attacks, blood, unhealthy obsessions, delusions of feelings, unwanted attention.

Part Thirteen Word Count: 6.1K

Part Twelve :: Series Masterlist

----

----

Bradley had an incredible feeling that something was wrong.

He couldn’t really explain it, but there was a twisting in his stomach and his heart was steadily beating faster in his chest. He knew he was being paranoid and he tried to calm himself down, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

“Come on,” he muttered, tapping his hand against the steering wheel. Traffic was slow moving and he was so close to the turn he needed to make, but his rare impatience was shining through. He breathed an audible sigh of relief when he could finally take his foot off the brake. He sped up, driving faster than he normally would. But it seemed that the closer he got to your house, the more anxious he became. 

He thought it would go away when he finally pulled behind your car in the driveway that wouldn’t be yours for too much longer. But then he realized that you weren’t in it, hadn’t waited for him like he asked, and he cursed under his breath. He got out of the Bronco quickly. He had just slammed the door when he heard a scream come from inside. 

His blood ran cold, his heart stopped in his chest, and he ran.

_____

“It’s so good to see you,” Paul breathed, smiling at you in what he probably thought looked reassuring. “You look so pretty today. I love when you wear blue. It’s my favorite color. How did you know?” 

The light blue sweater you were wearing was suddenly making you itch. Your bottom lip wobbled against your will as you stood there in front of him. Paul looked more disheveled than usual. He was in his normal work attire of khaki pants and a wrinkled plaid button down, his lanyard with his badge still draped around his neck. His red hair was mused like he had been running his fingers through it, and his thick glasses were sliding down his face, the eyes behind them wide and crazed, even as his words were spoken almost…gently. It was a horrifying juxtaposition. 

“I’ve missed you so much,” he continued, not waiting for you to answer his previous question. He took a step closer to you, and you backed up on instinct, your heart pounding in your chest. The fear that you had been desperately trying to hold at bay was creeping up your spine. Your lower back hit the edge of the counter and you whimpered when you realized you had allowed him to cage you in. The scent of his cologne was overpowering, like he had poured the entire bottle on himself. You wanted to gag. You needed to get away from him, but you couldn’t seem to move your feet. 

Oh, you should have waited for Bradley. Why hadn’t you listened to him? 

“Have you missed me?” 

You didn’t say anything, you couldn’t, not with this terror sitting in your throat. You could tell by the huff that he let out and the way his smile dipped that your silence was starting to make him angry. You had to swallow several times before you could force any words out, and even then, your voice was soft, nothing more than a whisper. 

“Paul…why are you doing this?”

The man in question cocked his head to the side, his brows drawing together in a frown. “Doing what?” he asked, sounding genuinely confused. 

“All of this,” you said, your voice shaking. 

“What do you mean? I’m doing it for you. For us.” 

You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, tears slipping down your cheeks. “There is no us, Paul. I don’t want anything from you.” 

He huffed out a loud breath through his nose as his jaw ticked, and the hair on your arms stood up. You were frozen in place as he took another step closer to you, nearly flush with your own body now. His hand reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. You flinched away from his touch, and his blue eyes darkened as he shook his head. “You don’t mean that.” 

“I do,” you swore. 

“You’re confused,” he argued back.You could feel his hot breath on your face, and you wanted to scream. You couldn’t remember a time when you had been more scared than you were at that moment.

“I’m not.” 

“Yes you are,” he snapped, eyes flashing dangerously. Another tear slid down your cheek as your body trembled, and he leaned closer. "You know, I've been waiting for this moment for so long," he whispered, his lips brushing against your cheek. You recoiled from his touch. 

“Please, Paul. Just let me go.” You knew that you were trying to rationalize with someone who was probably too far gone to be reasoned with, but you had to try. At the very least you had to buy yourself a little bit of time. 

“I can’t do that,” he said, his voice growing more desperate. “I can’t let you leave me again. I won’t let you.”

You pressed your luck and shuffled just the slightest bit to the side to try and escape, but he grabbed your arms as soon as you shifted. You gasped at the intensity of his grip. God, why didn’t you listen to Bradley? You never should have gotten out of the damn car. This was all your fault. 

Bradley. 

“Bradley’s on his way here,” you stammered, and you weren’t sure if you said it to see if it would give him enough pause to let you go, or just to reassure yourself. But Paul’s expression changed in an instant. Gone was the fake kindness he had been trying to maintain, replaced by an ugly sneer that made the fear that had been consuming you turn into panic. He looked completely unhinged, and you knew now, more than ever, you had to get away from him. You started to struggle against the hold he had on you, but his fingers pressed down harder and his nails dug into your skin.

“Everything changed as soon as he showed up,” he hissed, and you flinched when you felt his spit hit your face. He shook you, like he was trying to will you to hear him. “He took you from me.” 

You wanted to tell him that you were never his to be taken, but you didn’t think you could get the words out. You were trapped. Panic was clawing at you from the inside out, making it hard to think. Your heart was pounding so loudly in your chest that you could barely hear anything else, and it was starting to get hard for you to breathe through the panic. Tears streamed steadily down your cheeks, and your blurry eyes shifted quickly, searching for something, anything. You tried your best to inhale and unintentionally caught the off putting scent of the rotting and fresh flowers that were littered all over the counters at your back. 

Several vases of them. 

Before you could overthink it, or really even think of it at all, you jerked your leg up. Your knee connected with Paul’s groin and he let out a loud groan, stumbling back and doubling over. His grip loosened just the slightest bit and you wrenched your arms free of him. You turned quickly and grabbed the vase of freshly purchased flowers, identical to ones you had loved so much before. You swung it at him right as he was standing back up, and the glass connected with the side of his head with a satisfying shatter. He yelled out in pain and you took your opportunity.

You shot past him, trying desperately to go for the front door. You just had to get to the door. But you had only taken a few steps when your feet were kicked out from under you, sending you sprawling to the ground. Stars exploded in your vision when your head caught on the edge of the side table by the couch on the way down, and then bounced off the hardwood. Your eyes fought to adjust as you tried to get up, but a rough tug on your legs had you sliding across the floor. Your vision swam as you were flipped onto your back, and Paul was on top of you in an instant. 

You struggled under him, trying to push him off, but his weight pressing on you made it hard to move - hard to breathe. His eyes were wild and his breathing was ragged as he stared down at you. “I told you that you couldn’t leave,” he said, low and menacing. “Why did you do that?” 

“Get off of me!” you cried, trying to free yourself. Paul fought to grab onto your wrists as you flailed underneath him. 

Get away, get away, get away. 

“Stop it!” he yelled. You sucked in as much of a breath as possible with the weight on your chest and screamed as loudly as you could, desperate for someone to hear you. To help you. 

Paul’s eyes widened and he slapped his palm over your mouth so hard that it stung, pushing your head harder into the floor beneath you. “Shut up!” 

You bit down on the hand muffling your sound, and Paul hissed, yanking it away. You kept screaming as you managed to get one of your hands to his face. You scratched, feeling the skin break underneath your fingernails. You kept struggling beneath him even as one of his hands found its way to your neck and a loud bang echoed throughout the room, followed by a terrified shout of your name. 

—--

Bradley had experienced fear in his life before, and anger even more than that. The emotions were all too familiar to him. Yet there was something different about the way they spread through his body like wildfire as he burst open your front door and saw you on the ground with the man who had been tormenting you on top of you, his hand around your throat. Your legs flailed as you tried to kick your way out from under him, and Bradley saw nothing but pure, hot, dark red. 

Your name tore from him as he lunged forward. He tackled Paul off of you, the force of his weight sending him sprawling to the side. The smaller man’s expression transitioned rapidly from shock to anger, but Bradley wiped it off just as quickly. 

He didn't even think about what he was doing, he just acted, his fist connecting with Paul's face once, and then again, and another time after that.  Each hit was fueled by the months of anger and frustration he had felt knowing what he was putting you through, of the nights he spent holding you after you woke up screaming, and each tear he had wiped away. 

The man underneath him did his best to swing back, catching Bradley once awkwardly on the jaw, but Bradley quickly overpowered him and his limbs fell weakly to the ground at his sides. He felt as Paul’s nose bent under his knuckles, blood flowing freely down his face. It was like something else had taken over his body. He couldn’t feel anything but the need to protect you. 

It wasn’t until his name on your lips broke through the ringing in his ears that he came back to himself at all. 

He looked over his shoulder to see you had pulled yourself up enough to lean against the couch. You were gasping for air as you sobbed, tears streaming down your face, and Bradley felt his heart break at the sight of you. He spared Paul one more glance. The man was still conscious, if only barely, staring up at him with bleary eyes, and Bradley leant over him with a sneer, pressing his forearm against his throat. He spoke low, so only he could hear. “Don’t fucking move.” 

He quickly moved off of him, crawling the few feet to where you were. You were shaking, your eyes wide and scared and trained on the worthless lump of a man sprawled out on the ground. Bradley knew he needed to get your focus on him, and he also desperately needed to touch you, to assure himself you were as okay as you could be. He moved slowly, trying not to startle you as he brought his hands up to cup your face. He guided you so that your eyes locked on his. He breathed out your name in a shaky exhale. 

“Bradley,” you croaked, and his heart broke a little more. 

“I’m right here,” he promised. His voice was hoarse, and he couldn’t help the tremble of his hands as he brushed away your tears. “I got you.” You let out another sob, and Bradley’s face softened. “Come here, baby.” 

You didn’t resist when he pulled you into his arms, curling against him and burying your face in his chest as you cried. Bradley held you tightly, shifting off of his knees to sit so his back was against the couch, and your back was to the man still bleeding by the coffee table. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, inhaling your scent as he did. He tried to focus on the feeling of you in his arms to calm his own racing heart. He ran his hand over your hair, and his eyebrows pulled together when he felt something wet and sticky. He pulled his hand away, seeing blood on his fingertips. His eyes widened as he pulled back from you just far enough to meet your eyes. They were still wide, and now he could see how they were slightly dazed, too. 

“Bug, baby are you hurt?” he asked, his voice urgent and laced with concern. He was already carefully touching your head again, searching for injury. His breath caught in his throat as he felt the bump on the side of your head. He gently pushed your hair aside, his eyes narrowing as he saw the gash that had opened up on your scalp. It was small, which is maybe why he hadn’t noticed it before. But it was there. 

“Fuck,” he muttered. He felt a rush of anger all over again, heating him from the inside out. He felt the urge to scramble across the room and finish what he had started, but your soft whimper as he touched around the wound kept him grounded. He knew that you needed him right now. He had to swallow the fury he was feeling and focus on you, but it was thick in his throat. 

Slowly, he let his hand drift down to your neck. The skin was still hot from the pressure Paul had put on it, but he pushed past that, focusing on the feel of your pulse thudding against his fingertips. He let his eyes close for just a moment and took a deep breath. 

He had to take care of you. 

He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, pulling away and cupping your face in his hands again. He brushed some of your tears away as they fell, slower than they were before. Your sobs had lessened, too, but your breathing was still shaky. He gave you a sad, tight smile, trying to push some sort of reassurance to you. “I need to call 911, sweetheart.” 

You squeezed your eyes shut and gripped the front of his shirt in your hands. He knew that you hated hearing that. Your head lolled slightly, and his heart thudded in his chest as a shot of panic went through him. Your name was on his lips before you nodded, opening your eyes and straightening up to look at him. They were still fluttering, fighting for focus, and he was fairly positive that you had a concussion. But you whispered a soft “okay”. Bradley pressed another kiss to your forehead and helped you stand just far enough to get off of the floor and onto the couch itself. He pulled you back into his arms as soon as he was beside you, tucking your face into his chest so you were facing the cushions. He wished he could get you out of here completely, but you weren’t the only one he had to keep an eye on right now. But he’d be damned if you had to look at the piece of shit across the room.

He ignored the sound of him groaning as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. He dialed the three numbers quickly, his voice calm and steady as he talked to the operator. He gave them your address, as well as the case number he had memorized from the police report you had filed. All the while he held you close, rubbing soothing circles into your back. Once he hung up, he risked a glance over at Paul. The man was still crumpled on the floor, holding his bent nose. But he didn’t try to move or to run, laying on his back and blinking up at the ceiling; Bradley wondered if maybe he finally realized how fucked he was. Or maybe if he had just hit him so hard that he was concussed, too. 

Still, he felt his anger ignite once again and his hands unconsciously clenched into fists. He wanted nothing more than to go over there and finish the job, to make sure that man never hurt you or anyone else ever again. But he knew that wasn't his place. Right now, his only place was here, holding you. You were the only thing that mattered. 

"I got you," he whispered into your hair, his voice soft. "I got you.”

——

You kept your eyes closed, face pressed into his chest, focusing on the sound of Bradley’s voice as he spoke with the 911 operator as opposed to the words he was speaking themselves. You didn’t want to think about what had just happened, about the feel of Paul’s hands on your arms and on your neck and the weight of his body on top of yours. You wanted to go back to the carefree happiness you had felt and forget this night ever existed. You just wanted to stay in Bradley’s arms and pretend that everything was going to be okay. You felt safe, protected from anything; nothing could hurt you. 

You just wanted to stay right here. 

"I love you," Bradley said softly, his lips brushing against your hair. You weren’t sure when he had gotten off the phone or if he had said anything else to you, but the words made you blink your eyes open slowly. 

You had to swallow a few times, your tongue heavy and your mouth dry. Your voice was hoarse when you were finally able to return the words in nothing more than a whisper that still felt too loud. "I love you too.” 

Your head was fuzzy and your arms were tingling, your fingers still weakly curled into the fabric of his shirt. You wondered if you were going into shock.

After what felt like an eternity, but simultaneously no time at all, you heard the sound of sirens outside. Bradley’s grip on you tightened, and you felt the exhale he let out against your forehead. His voice was gentle and comforting when he spoke. “We’re going to get this all taken care of, okay?” 

“Kay,” you whispered. 

He pulled away and cupped your face in his hands, and the calluses on his palms felt so good and familiar against your cheeks that you couldn’t help but lean into it. You blinked at him slowly when he asked you to look at him, and the worry that shone in his eyes made your heart clench. “I’m going to take care of you, Bug. I promise.” 

You knew he would, without a single doubt in your mind. 

It was all a bit of a blur after that. The cops arrived first, and you let Bradley do most of the talking. It was almost like you were separate from your body, or listening through a seashell, as he explained what he had walked in on and everything that had happened before this, too. You flinched when Paul’s voice broke through the fog in your head. You had almost forgotten he was even in the room, he had been so quiet, but now he was saying your name, the sight of the police officers having sparked something back in him. 

“Don’t do this, please. Just tell them this is all a misunderstanding. We-we belong together. Why don’t you know that?” 

He sounded weaker and less sure of himself than you had ever heard, but you didn’t want to hear him at all. You squeezed your eyes shut and buried your face in Bradley’s chest again, trying to block it all out. 

You were relieved when, almost immediately, your boyfriend was scooping you up into his arms and carrying you outside. You rested your head against his shoulder, breathing in the scent of his cologne as he whispered soft reassurances to you. “The paramedics need to look at you, baby. And I need to finish talking to the police. I’ll make it quick, I promise.” 

He set you down gently on the edge of the open ambulance. You gripped his t-shirt in your hands, drawing his eyes to you. You felt pitiful and small when you whispered, begging him not to go too far. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and promised he’d stay within sight. You felt a pang of separation anxiety as he let go of you. He only stepped a few feet away to where one of the officers from inside was now standing, notepad in hand. He was close enough where you were sure he could hear everything the paramedics were saying, too. 

They were all business, but their touch was gentle as they checked you over, asking you questions and assessing your injuries. You felt the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes again as the dull pain in your head where the gash was and the ache in your neck and your arms where Paul had grabbed you seemed to register. It was all too much, and you wanted to curl up into a ball and disappear.The flashing lights from the police cars cast an eerie glow over the street, and you felt a lump form in your throat. You kept your eye on Bradley the whole time. He stood tense with his arms crossed over his chest as he talked. He kept glancing at you, sending you reassuring smiles. But there was a pinch in his eyebrows, and - 

You cried out at a sudden pain on your scalp. Bradley was by your side before the paramedic had even finished muttering her apology. 

“Sorry about that, just cleaning it up.” 

You gripped Bradley’s hand as a tear slid down your cheek. He ran his thumb over the back of your hand and shushed you, his voice low and soothing. “Shh, it’s okay, I’m here.”

You focused on his touch and his voice as the paramedics finished with you. You vaguely heard the words concussion and antiseptic, and you forced out a thank you where you hoped was appropriate. The woman who had been helping sent you a warm, kind smile as she took her gloves off. She nodded in your direction and muttered about giving you a moment before she slipped away. 

You leaned into Bradley’s side when he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, grateful for the warmth and comfort he provided. You were exhausted, physically and emotionally, and you just wanted to close your eyes and rest. But the sound of someone clearing their throat made you open your eyes again. The officer who had been talking to Bradley was now standing in front of you, his expression serious. 

“Can’t this wait?” Bradley asked. You glanced up at him, noticing that line between his narrowed eyes again. Without even consciously thinking about it, you raised your hand, smoothing it out with your thumb. He looked down at you, his features softening. He smiled, but you knew it was half hearted at best. 

The officer’s lips thinned and he shook his head. “I’m afraid not. We need to take your statement, miss.” He looked at you expectedly, pen poised over the paper.

Bradley’s grip on you tightened. You leaned further into him, and it was like you were both trying to draw and give comfort to one another all at the same time. His fingers traced soothing patterns on your arm as you took a deep breath. 

Your voice was shaky, detached, as you described as much as you could muster. The man in uniform standing in front of you jotted down notes on his notepad and asked questions as you went, which you answered as best as you could. 

“And when your boyfriend showed up? What happened then?” 

Even through the haze in your mind, you saw how the older man’s eyes flicked over to him. You looked at Bradley, too, seeing the way his jaw clenched. He stayed silent beside you, but you could feel the tension in his body. You knew he was angry, thinking back on the interaction. You thought about how Paul’s grip on your neck and weight on your body had released so suddenly. You had scrambled away, and it had taken you a few gasping breaths to register that Bradley had him on the ground in much the same position you had been. You had watched, almost transfixed in a way, as he laid into him. 

But he stopped as soon as you said his name. You could only imagine how he had felt in that moment, seeing you like that. You knew how much anger and hatred he carried toward your old coworker, contrasted and heightened by the love he had for you. It was in Bradley’s nature to protect the ones that he cared about, and he had walked into something terrible. But he hadn’t hesitated to put his own anger and vengeance aside the moment you needed his comfort, instead. 

“He protected me,” you murmured quietly. You heard the breath of air that he let out at your words. 

The questions continued for a few minutes, until a commotion near your front door drew all of your attention. Your breath caught when you saw Paul being led out with his arms behind his back. For a terrifying moment, he met your eyes. A shiver ran down your spine as fear spiked in you all over again. And then he started yelling for you, struggling against the hold another of the cops had on him. 

You flinched back, squeezing your eyes shut. Bradley turned so he was shielding you completely and drew you into his chest in much the same way he had done inside. He went the extra step of covering your ears to drown out all the noise and kept them there until a slam of a car door cut off the voice screaming your name. The tears you had been desperate to hold back slipped down your cheeks, and your chest felt tight all over again. 

“Please,” Bradley pleaded softly, and you knew he wasn’t speaking to you. “She’s been through enough tonight. She’s given you more than enough - just let me get her out of here.” 

The officer must have agreed, because the next thing you knew, Bradley was buckling you into the Bronco. He pressed a kiss to the side of your head and murmured that he would be right back. You heard the click of the lock once he closed the door, and you let out a breath of relief at knowing no one could touch you now. You let your eyes fall close and your head rest against the cool glass of the window as you waited. 

He was gone for several minutes, and when he unlocked the car and climbed in himself, he set your bag down on the floor at your feet. 

The trip back to his apartment was silent, not even any music playing on the radio. Halfway there, you unbuckled your seatbelt and slid over on the bench seat to press yourself to his side. He didn’t say anything, just shifted to wrap his arm around you. You let your eyes close, and when you opened them again, you were parked in his normal spot. 

“Let’s get you inside, baby,” Bradley murmured, and you felt so drained, you could hardly even nod. You barely register him leading you inside, or how he knelt on the ground to take your shoes off, and then helped you sit on the couch. He brought you a glass of water that he helped you drink, and now, sitting here in the quiet of one of the places you felt the safest, that you felt the emotions hitting you all over. 

“I’m sorry,” Bradley said softly, running his thumb across your cheek. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner.” 

You shook your head, feeling the weight of the day’s events pressing down on you. You didn’t know how to explain that it wasn’t his fault, that you were just grateful he had come at all. You just wanted to be held, to feel safe. He seemed to sense that, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. 

You leaned into him, the tears streaming down your face as you buried your head into his chest. Every part of you ached, and you didn't know how to make it stop. You tried to take deep breaths to calm down, but the sobs kept coming. All the while, you clung tightly to Bradley’s body, his arms secure around you.

You don’t know how long you sat there, crying and clinging to one another on the couch, when the thought came to you. Mustering all the strength you could, you muttered the words into his soft shirt. “Is it over now?” 

“What, baby?” Bradley asked, and you sucked in as much air as you could, letting it out slowly. You pulled away just enough to look up into his dark eyes. 

“It’s over now, right? He can’t…he can’t hurt me anymore, right?” 

Bradley’s expression softened, and he ran his hand up and down your back. “No, he can’t hurt you anymore. You’re safe now. I promise.”

____

Six Months Later 

You woke up to Bradley’s lips on your skin. 

You were laying on your stomach, face pressed into the smooth material of your pillow. The sheet had pooled near your hips as you slept and you could feel the warmth of sunbeams through the thin curtains on the window contrasted with the cool air from the ceiling fan spinning above on your bare back. Bradley pressed kisses along your shoulder blades, featherlight touches that had you wondering if maybe you were still dreaming. But then you felt his fingers tracing up the indents of your spine and you knew this was real. You shivered in delight, a sleepy moan escaping into the pillow before you rolled over. 

“Morning, Bug,” he rasped, voice thick with sleep. You couldn’t help but shudder again at the sound of it. You opened your eyes to see Bradley propped on his side, head supported by one hand. With the other, he traced the outline of your collarbone. 

You smiled and reached up to brush your fingers through his hair. “Morning, handsome.” You leaned in for a kiss, relishing the feel of his warm lips on yours. “What time is it?”

“It’s still early. I couldn’t sleep, so thought I’d wake you up instead.” The next kiss was deeper, and you felt your body starting to respond to him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, and after a moment, he chuckled against your lips. 

“What’s so funny?” you asked, pulling back slightly to look at him. 

“Nothing.” he replied, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Just happy to finally wake up here with you.” 

You hummed in response and smiled, knowing exactly what he meant. 

It was almost hard to believe that just six months ago, you had been in the middle of a nightmare. It had been a whirlwind since then. You had started a new job that you absolutely loved and that you were thriving in. Paul had been arrested and charged with assault, stalking, and breaking and entering. You had been granted a restraining order against him, even though hopefully you wouldn’t need it for a while while he served out his sentence. 

Bradley had been there every step of the way. He never pushed, never pressured you into anything you weren't ready for. He just held you close, listened when you needed to talk, and loved you fiercely. 

You had decided pretty soon after the incident that you wanted a fresh start together, in a place completely on your own. You had found a cute little house that suited both of your needs. It was the exact same distance to work for both of you, had a spare bedroom and an office that you would utilize on your work from home days, and a small yard where maybe you could get the dog you had both been joking about for awhile. It wasn’t totally updated and would need some work, but it was perfect. You were in the middle of closing when Bradley had gotten deployment papers in the mail. He was scheduled to leave a week before you were planning on moving in, and would be gone for nine weeks. You had talked, briefly, about putting everything off. He knew that you were still working through a lot, and he hadn’t wanted to put the pressure of moving into a new house completely on you. 

But you had been tired of feeling weak and dependent. So you had smiled and kissed him and told him that it would be okay. You waved him off with tears in your eyes while you watched the carrier ship pull away, and then you went back to his apartment and finished packing boxes. You were determined to make the house you had purchased together into a home for him to return to, and that was exactly what you had done. He had looked around in wonder when you brought him home just yesterday. It was the first night you had spent together, and it had made all the stress worth it. 

“Hey,” Bradley said softly, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “What are you thinking about?” 

You smiled and snuggled closer to him, burying your face in his chest. “Just how lucky I am to have you,” you whispered. 

He chuckled and wrapped his arms around you tighter. “I’m the lucky one,” he said. “You’re the strongest person I know.” 

He leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a gentle, lingering kiss. He brushed his nose against yours when he pulled away, and for a long moment, you just laid there together, sharing the same breath. “I think we should take a trip,” he murmured, breaking the peaceful silence you had fallen into. 

You let out a surprised laugh, shaking your head. “You just got home.” 

“I know,” he shrugged. “But I have a few weeks of leave, and you have some PTO saved up. Maybe we can go this weekend.” 

“Did you have somewhere specific in mind?” you asked, deciding to humor him. A playful sparkle that almost looked mischievous crept into his dark brown eyes and he nodded, kissing you again. 

“I was thinking of a cabin in the mountains. I might know a place with a good hot tub.”  

You felt a flutter in your chest at the thought of the first trip you had taken together to just the place he was describing, and how it had been the perfect escape. It was the first time you had expressed that you loved one another. You hadn’t been back since, but you had thought of it, every once in a while. Clearly he had too. It would just be the two of you, secluded away from reality, able to enjoy each other's company without any distractions. 

You smiled up at him, and he returned the gesture, his eyes shining with excitement.

"Sounds amazing," you said, and he leaned down to kiss you again, his hands roaming over your body. The kiss quickly turned passionate, and before you knew it, you were lost in each other - just the way you should be. 

-Fin-

-------------

Series Masterlist :: Main Masterlist

Notes: And there we have it. Thank you so much for everyone who stuck around. Can't believe we made it🖤

Thank you to Mak and Em for all of your help making this story come to life. This one is for the two of you.

And thanks to Mak for the AMAZING banner!

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[skyfullofcelestia]

The Storm on the Horizon

Story: Everyday misunderstandings and how would they handle them.

Characters: Dan Heng, Jing Yuan, Gepard

Dan Heng

Deep down in his soul, he knew it must be just a misunderstanding. But the absence of your smile every time you see him, no more random touches on public places from you even though you knew he prefers to keep them private… He loved being loved without any shame, but never told you. And now he regrets it. You were his biggest cheerleader and now you felt like a stranger. Dan Heng spent much time wondering if the two of you are a good match. He preferred his silent solitude while you were always the loud one, cheering him up for every small accomplishment. Without your presence, his life felt quiet. Too quiet.

“Y/N?” Dan Heng jumped up when you finally came by his cabin.

“Hiii.” You smile without the usual spark in your eyes. “I just stopped by for… this.” You point at a small bag you left behind.

“Yes, of course.” He mumbled, “Why… why do you want to take it?” Dan Heng asked, not able to resist questioning you anymore. 

“Ummm...” You frowned confused. “I just want to take my cosmetics bag. I need it. Is there a problem?”

“No. You just kept it here since we began dating and now you are taking it away.” His small wrinkle in between the brows deepened.

“March organized a last-minute sleepover. I thought that you would not mind…” You stopped yourself and let out a deep sigh. “What is this all about?”

“I have wanted to ask you.” Dan Heng looked at you with a hesitation written all over his face. “You have been so distant lately, I was wondering if…”

“You would be too.” You cut him off. “Asking Mr. Yang if there is a point to stay in a relationship with me.”

“I-I did not mean it like that!” Dan Heng raised his voice with realization. “I trust him and I needed to ask him…” 

“If you should be in a relationship with me? Like he knows us more than we do?” You smiled with disbelief.

“No, of course not. There is just this feeling that I cannot get rid of. You are so bubbly, always excited for every new day and adventure ahead of us. I prefer my own company, being able to work in peace. We are so different.”

“And maybe that was the beauty of our relationship. We were able to give each other what we lacked. I brought you spontaneity while you anchored me when I flew too high.” 

“I agree.” He smiled a little. “But you are talking in the past time.”

“Maybe you were right to doubt us.”

“You do not love me anymore?” Dan Heng pierced you with a painful stare. 

“You opened the room full of doubts for me. But you should ask that yourself first.”

Dan Heng studied your face for a moment trying to find the right words.

“I love you.” He finally interrupted the silence. “I have loved you since the day I met you. When you are next to me, I feel like I am home. Home where I can feel… safe, comfortable, and loved.” He tried to stop himself from saying more, but the words kept pouring. “I should not doubt you, your love, my love, us… I imagined my future without you and it felt… empty. I do not want to be without you. Life like that feels not worth living.”

You wrapped your hands around his neck, caressing the back of his head. Your heart felt full, but light at the same time. The heaviness that was dragging you down for days was suddenly gone. You grabbed your phone, quickly excusing yourself from today’s plans because you were not planning to leave Dan Hengs's cabin anytime soon.

Jing Yuan 

His days were always busy, usually gone without even realizing it. But today was dragging like never before. Jing Yuan checked the time for the hundredth time. It is past your lunch break but for some reason, you did not stop by like you usually did every Friday. Now it was the third time without your pastries and even though he loved them very much, he knew that your absence was making him sad more than his sweet tooth and growling stomach.

“General! Where are you going? We have an important meeting with…” Yanqing protested, confused.

“I will be right back!” He said right before a loud slap of his office door.

….

“What is going on?” A tall shadow appeared out of nowhere. 

Jing Yuan was standing right in front of you with his arms crossed on his chest.

“Why?” You almost chuckled.

“Why? I should be the one asking you why you left your man hungry again.”

“Honey, I already told you that pastries and sweets are not real meals. You need to eat a proper lunch.”

“I Know.” He frowned. “But you always bake for me. You were the one who said that it is one of your ways of showing your love.”

“I am just busy. I will bake you your favorites tomorrow, ok?” 

“That does not count.”

You rolled your eyes without a word and turned your back to him trying to get back to work when a big hand grabbed your arm and turned you back to him.

“Talk to me.” He whispered gently. “What is going on?”

You looked him deeply in his eyes, wondering if you should tell him or not. He should be the one to find out by himself, but there is a possibility that he would not.

“I had a birthday. We were supposed to visit my parents. We just had our anniversary…”

His face almost darkened. How could he forget?

“So many occasions and you forgot about all of them. I do not care about the gifts or big celebrations, but I would love to be able to go to sleep with you next to me at least twice a year. Is that so much to ask?”

“It is the bare minimum that I promised you.” He looked down at his hands. “And I was not able to keep my promise.”

“I know you are a busy man, Mr. General. But I need you too.” You sighed. “Maybe we should take a break.”

“What?!” Jing Yuan almost growled. “And what is the point of that? You are upset that I do not have time for you, so you propose to separate so we can spend even less time together?”

“It does not make sense, I know. But I need some space to think things through.”

“I will give you any corner of the space. Just pick one and I will bring it to you on the silver plate.”

“That is not what I meant.”

Before you can protest any further Jing Yuan pulled you to him and tightly wrapped you into his embrace.

“If you love me, I will not let you go anywhere. We do not need space from each other. We need the exact opposite.” He whispered into your hair. “Pack your stuff, we are leaving.”

“What? I am in the middle of work.” You tried to pull away from him, but he did not let you.

“General's order.” He smiled.

“But, but… My boss will not like it.” 

“I will deal with him, darling.” He smiled sheepishly. “Now let me make it all up to you in a really special place.”

To say that Jing Yuan had not left you alone for even an hour that weekend would be an understatement.

Gepard

Another long and exhausting day at work has not stopped him from waiting for you until late at night. When the jingle of the keys finally filled the quiet hallway of your home, Gepard straightened himself on the sofa.

“Hello, baby.” You smiled. “Why are you up so late?”

“I was waiting for you.” 

“Ok? Have I done something wrong and you want to arrest me now?” You grinned at him as you made yourself comfortable right next to him.

But he pulled away, making your carefree smile disappear.

“We need to talk.” 

“Obviously.” You frowned. “Can you just tell me what is going on?”

“Your behavior is confusing me. You keep telling me how much you love me, but you act oppositely.”

“How? Why do you think that? I am even more confused than before.”

Gepard´s puppy eyes locked with yours and you realize that he truly meant every word he said.

“Oh, baby.” You cupped his face with both of your hands. “Just tell me what is bothering you. I am sure we can work it out.”

“I love you, I want to spend my whole life with you. You are the most important person in my life. But so do my sisters. I was disappointed when you could not make it to our family dinner. For the third time.”

“It was just really bad timing.” You almost chuckled relieved. 

“I want you all to at least know each other. I would love you all to be friends after some time.”

Without a word, you sat down on his lap showering him with dozens of kisses all over his face.

“Please, answer me.” Gepard tried to fight you off unsuccessfully.

“Do you know why I was out so late?”

“You were out with your friends.” He frowned, confused.

“Yes. And one of them is called Serval.” You smiled.

“Mine Serval?”

“I only know one.” You shrugged.

“Oh,” Gepard scratched his head. “So you two are friends? You do not hate her or anything like that?”

“No, my silly baby. I do not hate any of your sisters. I was just busy so I could not meet them all at once.”

“Now my turn!” Gepard laid you down on the sofa and positioned himself over you as he drowned you with kisses all over your body. “I am so happy.” He murmured into your skin.

[justabigassnerd]

The Talk

Pairing - Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell x daughter!reader, Bradley Bradshaw x Mitchell!reader

Word count - 2,701

Warnings - mentions of sex, lil' splash of angst, fluff

Summary - you and Bradley near the next step in your relationship, however, you worry about it

Sequel to - 'Overprotective Aviators'

A/N - what is up y'all? I appear once more to offer y'all a fic that was a lovely anon request! I had so much fun writing this and I hope I did the idea justice! I won't ramble so as per y'all, please send in requests, feedback and enjoy!!!

It had been almost one year since Bradley asked you out on a date and your relationship was still going strong. It took your dad a good week or so to actually process the fact you were dating his best friend’s son but after a long talk with Bradley which ended with Bradley ensuring he’d do his best by you and wouldn’t break your heart; your dad accepted it. Though it didn’t stop him from insisting you kept your PDA to a minimum when you were in his immediate vicinity.

The further into the relationship you got with Bradley, you started to get more intimate, lingering touches lasted longer than usual. You hadn’t had sex with Bradley, but your mind was screaming at you that you were getting clear signs you were nearing that step in your relationship. You were sure Bradley had much more relationship experience than you. He had girlfriends before he got with you, but Bradley was your first relationship. You had never been massively popular in high school so many boys didn’t look your way. Even if you did have boys throwing themselves at your feet, you were sure your dad would’ve chased them away sharpish.

Carole had quickly caught onto the changes that happened with you. She noticed how you and Bradley were more touchy than usual. How you often went off seeking privacy with him more often than not. She knew Maverick and Goose hadn’t picked up on the changes. She loved the two men dearly, but she knew there wasn’t a thought that occurred in their heads most of the time. She also knew that she should have a conversation with you, woman to woman.

One day, when Bradley was out with Maverick and Goose, working on repairs on the P-51 Mustang Maverick had found himself in possession of, Carole had headed over to your house, knocking on the door and greeting you with a smile.

“Hey, sweetie. Could we have a chat?” Carole asks as you invite her in, following you into the living room and sitting on the sofa as you nod.

“Of course. Is everything okay?” You reply, sitting down on the sofa, leaving a little gap between both you and her as your mind begins to race with worst-case scenarios.

“I just wanted to have a chat with you, woman to woman.” Carole says softly, taking one of your hands in hers and squeezing it softly. You remained silent, confused about what she was getting at.

“Now, sweetheart, I’ve noticed some changes with you and Bradley, and something is telling me you two are nearing that step where you are going to have sex for the first time.” Carole says, getting straight to the point as you feel your face get hot very suddenly.

“What? Carole, I don’t-”

“y/n, don’t bother denying it. I have eyes you know. It’s okay if you want to take that next step together.” Carole says, not letting you try and hide behind a lie. You remain silent for a moment, processing her words and thinking about your own doubts.

“I’m scared.” You admit quietly, dropping your head as Carole squeezes your hand softly, getting you to look at her.

“What are you scared of, sweetie?” Carole asks softly, her gaze never leaving you. She was all too aware that you didn’t have any kind of maternal figure in your life, so she always did her best to be a trusted woman in your life, especially since your dad had a tendency to sleep around and never get in a relationship.

“Bradley’s been in more relationships than me. He probably knows what to do and what not to do with things like that. I’m scared I’m not good enough for him.” You confess, blinking back the tears that threaten to spill past your defences as Carole coos quietly, bringing you into her arms as she rubs a hand up and down your back as she holds you tight.

“Oh y/n/n. You don’t need to worry about that. Bradley is most definitely head over heels for you. I know taking steps like this is scary, but communication is key in relationships, sweetie. Goose and I have to have conversations about things. Every couple needs communication, it’s what keeps relationships afloat. You don’t even need to have the conversation the next time you see him if it doesn’t feel right. Just make sure you do talk about it. I’m sure if you spoke to him, he’d understand. If he doesn’t then just know he’d have some hell to deal with because I did not raise him to be that way.” Carole says, pulling away and grinning when she notices the small smile creeping onto your face. You knew she was right, that relationships required communication and if you just spoke to Bradley, you were sure everything would be okay. Before you could say another word, you hear the front door unlock and Maverick announce his return with Goose and Bradley entering behind.

“Honey, what are you doing here?” Goose says the moment he sees Carole in the living room, immediately sweeping her up into his arms and pressing a delicate kiss upon her lips.

“Just wanted to keep y/n company while you men were gone.” Carole says, grinning up at her husband with loving eyes. Bradley then squeezes past his parents and sits alongside you, pulling you into a quick kiss.

“Hey, don’t push your luck, Bradshaw.” Maverick scolds as you and Bradley pull away from the kiss, smiling softly at each other.

“Dad.” You mutter, glancing over at Maverick who holds his hands up in mock surrender.

“Let’s go sit in the garden, the weather’s beautiful.” Bradley says, tugging you to your feet and leading you to the back door to head out into the garden as the adults watch with soft smiles. The second the two of you are out of sight, Carole turns to Maverick.

“Mav, we need to talk. Alone.”

“Wha- don’t you want to include me in this conversation too, honey?” Goose splutters, looking between Maverick and his wife.

“Nick, honey, I love you, but this is a Maverick thing. Besides, I know he’ll tell you the second the two of you are left alone.” Carole says, looking up at her husband and patting his cheek lovingly as he pouts lightly. Carole then grabs Maverick’s wrist, tugging him into the privacy of the kitchen and turning to face him the moment she hears Goose turning on the tv to occupy himself.

“What did you need to talk about, Carole?” Maverick says, leaning back against the kitchen counter with folded arms.

“You need to speak to your daughter.” Carole says bluntly looking at Maverick who blinks in shock.

“I literally spoke to her a minute ago.” Maverick starts, confused as to where Carole was going with this conversation.

“No. Your daughter is growing up Pete. And growing up means that when she gets into a serious relationship, she’s going to take that big step when she’s ready.” Carole says, watching as Maverick’s eyes narrow in confusion before widening in realisation.

“You don’t mean…” Maverick starts, knowing where Carole was going but hoping he was wrong.

“Sex? Yes, I do mean that.” Carole says as Maverick glances out the kitchen window, seeing you and Bradley curled up together in the hammock.

“I- are you- how did you find out?” Maverick manages to force out, looking back at Carole who bites back an amused grin at Maverick being rendered almost speechless for the first time in his life.

“I spoke to her, woman to woman. I gave her a little advice, but her dad needs to give her the rest.” Carole says, watching as Maverick’s shoulders slacken.

“You’ve given her some advice, why can’t you give her the rest? I’m not a woman.” Maverick says, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“Pete, I may be a woman but you’re her father. You’re the only parent she has, and she needs her dad to talk to her about this whether you like it or not. She needs you to teach her how to be safe when it comes to sex. I know it's an awkward conversation, believe me, I know. How do you think Goose fared when we gave the talk to Bradley? He couldn’t get a full sentence out, I think he stopped functioning altogether. I know it’s tough when you realise your kid is growing up, but they still need our love and support regardless of their growing independence. Just talk to her Mav.” Carole says, resting a hand on Maverick’s upper arm as she gives him a soft smile. Maverick sighs lightly, but nods his head regardless, looking down at the tiled kitchen floor.

“I’ll talk to her.” Maverick says as he shifts his gaze to look back up at Carole who pats his arm.

“Good. Now, let’s get back to Goose, he might go insane if he’s alone any longer.” Carole laughs lightly, turning around and opening the kitchen door and heading into the living room while Maverick remains rooted in place for a moment, thinking over how to approach the conversation with you, re-joining Carole, and Goose once he had collected his thoughts.

That evening, after the Bradshaw’s had headed home for the night, Maverick was sitting alongside you on the sofa as you watched the tv. Carole’s words echoed around Maverick’s head as he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. Without warning, Maverick grabbed the remote and muted the tv, ignoring your protests.

“y/n, we need to talk.” Maverick starts, and you immediately have a feeling that you know where this is going.

“Did you speak to Carole?” You ask, fiddling with your fingers as you look down at your hands.

“I’d say she cornered me into the kitchen and spoke to me. But yes, we spoke.” Maverick says after letting out a weak chuckle.

“Dad, I-”

“Squirt, you’re going to need to let me talk, okay?” Maverick politely interrupts, shuffling around to face you properly.

“Carole told me that you reckon that you and Bradley are nearing that next step in your relationship. I need to make sure you know how to be safe when you do make that step. You need to know you have the right to say no if you don’t want to have sex. Don’t let yourself feel pressured into saying yes if you don’t want to. As long as you’re safe and know you have the right to say ‘no’, you’ll be fine. I just want you to be safe.” Maverick says, making you look up at him before he offers you a soft smile before he reaches out, wraps an arm around your shoulders and tugs you into his side.

“Bradley won’t force me to do anything, will he?” You ask, looking up at your dad who softens.

“No, sweetheart. As much as I like to pretend that he annoys me because he’s dating you, I know he’s so in love with you and Goose and Carole raised him to be nothing but respectful. It’s just important that you know that you can say no if you don’t want to have sex.” Maverick assures, rubbing a hand up and down your back before pressing a kiss to the top of your head as you nod against his side.

“I really love Bradley. I’m scared I’m not good enough for him because I don’t have as much relationship experience as him.” You admit quietly, curling further into your dad’s arms like you were little again.

“Oh, y/n/n. Like I said, Bradley is hopelessly in love with you. He’s as in love with you as Goose is in love with Carole. You have nothing to worry about.” Maverick reassures, squeezing you lightly.

“Carole said a similar thing.” You say as you laugh lightly to yourself as you remember Carole’s words from earlier. Maverick didn’t reply, opting to stay silent and relish the feeling of you curled in his arms. He knew you were growing more independent by the day, and that you would reach a point where you wouldn’t want to find solace in your father’s arms anymore, so he relished any moment he got with you.

“I love you, dad.” You mumble, smiling to yourself when you feel your dad press another kiss to the top of your head.

“I love you too, y/n.” Maverick whispers as you return your attention to the muted television, planning on how to approach Bradley with the conversation.

The time for you to speak to Bradley came a couple of days later, Maverick and Goose were at Top Gun, teaching, and Carole was out visiting some friends, so you had gone around to Bradley’s house. The two of you were upstairs in his room and sat on his bed as you kissed each other passionately. As you pulled away, resting your foreheads against each other, Bradley’s hand brushed against your thigh as he moved to set it on your hip. You tensed up at the contact and Bradley noticed, immediately pulling away and looking at you worriedly.

“Are you okay?” Bradley asked, his eyes searching yours as you silently scold yourself for flinching at Bradley’s touch. You’d never flinched at his touch before, but you knew why you had done so. It was time to have the conversation you were most fearing.

“Bradley, I feel like we’re getting close to that step in our relationship where we… you know… have sex and I’m going to be honest; I’m terrified I’m not going to be good enough for you. You’ve been in relationships before, and I don’t know how well I measure up to old girlfriends you had.” You ramble, opening your mouth to speak more but being stopped by Bradley gently resting a finger on your lips to silence you.

“Honey, let me talk for a moment, okay? It’s okay if you don’t have much relationship experience, we all start somewhere. I don’t know everything about relationships. I love you, and there’s no rush about anything. We don’t have to have sex or anything unless we’re both ready. There’s no rush for anything. Yes, we’re getting a bit more intimate but that doesn’t mean we have to be leaping into anything if we’re not ready. We can take it slow, that’s more than okay.” Bradley says, his gentle smile never leaving his face as he speaks, his finger moving from your lip so he can cup your face gently, his smile widening as you leaned into his touch.

“I love you too Bradley. Sorry for blurting all that out, I’ve just been panicking for a couple of days.” You apologise, attempting to bury your face in his palm. Bradley carefully removes his hand so he can see you properly.

“There’s my beautiful girl. It’s okay. I’m glad we talked about this. My parents always tell me that communication is important. I also want to be sure you know you can always come to me to talk if you need to.” Bradley says softly, leaning in and pressing his forehead to yours as a smile breaks out across your face.

“And you can always talk to me if you need.” You say, quickly leaning closer to press a quick kiss to Bradley’s lips. Just as you pull away, Bradley grabs your waist and pulls you back in, kissing you again as you bite back a giggle at your boyfriend’s sudden movement.

“Is this okay?” Bradley asks as he pulls away, his eyes flicking down to his hands before looking back up at you.

“More than okay.” You confirm, kissing him once more until the need for air becomes too much.

“As much as I’d love to keep kissing you. I had a date idea. There’s that new mini-golf place that has just opened along the beach. I was thinking we could go there and test it out, a bit of fun and competition.” Bradley says after pulling away and a cheeky smile crosses his face.

“I hope you’re ready to lose Bradshaw.” You say, a smirk covering your face.

“In your dreams, Mitchell.”

[cityof2morrow]

Mod Organizing & Load Order Shenanigans

Published: 5-1-2024 | Updated: N/A MOD ORGANIZING During the [first] "pandemic summer," I started reorganizing my game folders. I also started  a "conflict management" list, containing all the known conflict info from download pages, new conflicts I discover while playtesting, etc. It's 44 pages long at the moment....a testament to my unapologetic mod addiction. I encourage all simmers to keep a list like this. It’s very reassuring (and handy!) to be able to look up known conflicts or keep track of mods which have been merged (duplicate files can break your game FAST!).  **I won’t be able to share mine at this time but most of my info comes from the same pages where I download CC/mods - shout out to the creators who take the time to include this info.

MY LOAD ORDER(S) I number my folders and use mostly lower case filenames to force the load order I want – these were the most important changes I made re: how I maintain a heavily-modded-but-still -very-functional game. With few exceptions, this has been much more effective than keeping track of the number of z's and cases. It also means I don't need to rename downloaded files - I just put them in the right folder. When I played exclusively on mac, I learned that numbering the store cc folders was the ONLY way I could get all the content to work. I never figured out why but I imagine it was because the mac series doesn't include expansions required for some of this content.

DETAILS (the codes) I put that grad school debt...I mean...those grad school research skills to good use and made up my own codes. Here they are... 0= files needed in every save aka my "essentials." These include repair files, shader/UI files, CEPs, global probes (like scriptorium, money globals, inteen checker, inventory checker, etc).

1= mods that do NOT need a load order, some OFB-themed sets I want to keep separate from other CC - like the #co2bellabrand or upcoming #co2cdkseries stuff.

2= mods that require a hard load order. As @episims writes HERE, this only works for mods with non-game-breaking conflicts between them. Only the last mod in the sequence will retain ALL its intended functions. The code for this section goes like this: [number]-[what the mod deals with in-game; i make sure to consider alphabetical order]-[load order number] -name of the mod(s)

I have several global mods that need to load as close to LAST as possible. These folders all start with "2-z-[load order #]-." The "2" tells me they need to load in a certain order and the "-z" makes them load after all the other #2 folders.

See Object Freedom 1.02 (@fwaysims, 2023) and Shiftable Everything (@lamare-sims, 2022) both load at #78? I don't have them BOTH in game at the same time, but giving them the same number ensures that the right load order stays no matter which one i'm paying with. 3 = build mode and neighborhood deco/defaults

4= buy mode

"ts1," "ts3," and similar labels = content that was converted for Sims 2.

5=CAS/bodyshop

OTHER DETAILS I also label folders with certain "type codes" - these tell me things like whether they add permanent data to my saves (custom memories, careers, foods, etc. do this) or whether they are maxis-match. Here are some examples:

-BIN = mod files which go in the program folders -DEF = default replacement -MEM = this content includes custom memory data -MM = maxis-match or an add-on for default game furniture -ADD = content that is not maxis-match -NPC = this content includes or changes one or more NPCs -FIX  or -EDIT = this is a fixed or uniquely edited version of a pre-existing mod -BETA and -TEST = this mod is unfinished and/or a test version Remember, conflicts do not always mean something has to be removed from your game, nor are all conflicts unresolvable. No matter what kind of method(s) you use to organize your game – it’s just important to try/have at least one in the cut.

CREDITS Thanks: Episims, PleasantSims, and all simmers who include load order/conflict notes. Sources: Beyno (Korn via BBFonts), EA/Maxis, Forcing the Load Order of Mods (whoward/Pick’N’MixSims, 2021 via sims2tutorials), Image(s) (Alexander, 2016), Offuturistic Infographic (Freepik).

...Oh and yes...I AM in fact an INTJ/Capricorn.

[effira]

Hey, you!

Is your computer and/or mobile phone dry?

Would you like it not to be?

then BOY DO I HAVE JUST THE THING FOR YOU!!

So I made a Rainmaker shimeji! Download and installation instructions under the cut!

HOW TO INSTALL

Windows:

You will need:

A Windows computer

A .zip and .rar software. like winrar or 7zip or whatever, doesn't matter.

The latest version of Java 8

Basic knowledge of how to unzip and move files on your computer

IF YOU DO NOT HAVE ANY OTHER SHIMEJIS:

Download the .zip file

Unzip it wherever you like

Open the folder and make a shortcut to "shimeji-ee.jar"

Move this shortcut to your desktop

Double click the shortcut

There she is!

If shimeji-ee.jar doesn't want to open and instead prompts you to use winrar, right click it and change the application you prefer to open it with to Java

IF YOU HAVE OTHER SHIMEJIS ON YOUR COMPUTER:

This Shimeji was made for Shimeji-ee. I cannot guarantee it will work with other software.

Make a new subfolder in the /img/ folder of your shimeji software. Title it "rainmaker". Or anything else, I'm not your dad.

Download the .zip file

Extract it wherever you want

Copy all the images from my .zip file's /img folder into the shimejiee/img/rainmaker subfolder

Copy the "conf" folder from my zip file into the shimejiee/img/rainmaker subfolder

Open shimeji-ee.jar

Right click on the app icon, and go to settings -> Choose Shimeji

Select Rainmaker

Done!

Android:

You will need:

A shimeji app that supports custom shimeji. I prefer this one:

A file explorer for your phone, if it did not come preloaded with one.

Download my zip file

Unzip it somewhere you'll be able to find it

In the app, create a new shimeji. Direct the file to the /img/ folder of your extracted zip file

Mess around with the animations a bit if you'd like -- this app can mess up the frame order for some animations but it's fixed pretty easily.

Spawn her in.

You're done! Have fun throwing her away from your keyboard every 2 seconds while you text.

DOWNLOAD: