#sorry it's been six months since an update

[takeariskao3]

.

[vxnuslogy]

– in between missions.

pairing: sunday x gn!reader

premise: it's been an eventful six months since sunday joined the stellaron hunters. today marked one of their very rare day offs, and what better way to spend the day with the people that's taken care of him.

– warnings: slight angst if you squint, mentions of blood in some parts.

– author's note: updated the lore in this little mini-series (?) LMAOO thank you sunday leaks on sunday for bringing me back to life. so sorry for being a bit ia, tumblr has been such a pain in the ass that it slightly demotivated me to write. new layout for sunday fics too so yippie!! (totally not foreshadowing). art credits to 冒火锅海台 on Weibo for the art. | 4.1k words (LMFAO).

MORNING — 6:00 A.M.

before, sunday would wake up at the crack of dawn; waiting for the sun’s rays as he watered the plants he’d been taking care of. now –he still wakes up earlier than most– he spends his mornings in a big kitchen with the sound of kafka’s humming filling the bubbles of silences that start to form. it was always a pleasure helping the older woman cook everyone’s breakfast without having their loud bickering in the background (though sometimes he would grow paranoid if he never heard it throughout the day; he’s grown used to your voices).

before missions started, all the petty quips, and the laughter, sunday appreciated the quiet moments he gets to share with kafka.

“sunny, can you take over for me? i need to defrost silver wolf’s nuggets.”

sunday only hummed in response. body lazily slipping itself into kafka’s previous position of frying the leftover rice from yesterday. “sunny” was the woman’s name for him; a form of endearment, you said, she does it to everyone. sunday would never admit it himself (kafka often teased how adorable his morning voice was so he tried not to speak until after breakfast), but hearing that little nickname always sent a flurry of little butterflies down to his chest. collecting the pollen from the flowers you’ve carefully placed in between his ribs and spreading it all over his chest. no one has ever given him such a casual nickname before, so sunday had started to cling to it like a lifeline.

when the clock strikes 7:30, it usually means you're about to wake up. after patting his hands dry on a spare kitchen towel, sunday lifts his head and there you are. a small smile spread across his lips when you greeted kafka with a side hug. you still had your bed hair and your eyes were barely open; it was an endearing sight to see.

“good morning,” sunday snaps out of his daze when an arm wraps around his shoulder and pulls him close to your chest. sunday could distinctly smell the chocolate you ate with silver wolf the night before and the soft remnants of your scented candle. he let his head lean more into your touch as he mumbles a soft good morning straight to your heart. ignoring the pair of eyes that crinkle in amusement behind the kitchen counter.

by the time 7:50 rolls around, you’re fully awake. a cup of coffee in your hands as you, him, and kafka go door to door to wake up your little group. from the corner of sunday’s eyes, he sees kafka peer over blade’s door and a grumpy okay go through. on the other end, he sees you greet firefly good morning with a hug before disappearing into another hall to come and get elio. 

before he could even knock on silver wolf’s door, the wooden thing pulled open and he was met with the sight of the silver haired girl looking down at her game console. he chuckled in amusement, patting down the stray hairs that poked up and guided her to the kitchen. he made sure to ask if she’s beaten the boss yet and when she replied with an angry huff, sunday took it as a sign to not bring it up for a while.

it's already 8:10 when everyone is sitting down around the kitchen table. plates of warm fried rice, chicken nuggets, some slices of fruits, pancakes, and multiple cups of teas and coffees were laid down on the table. small chatter started to arise and sunday could feel the energy start to spike as well. as he took bite after bite until he felt your knee bump into his. when he turned to you, he was met with the sight of you pushing more food in his direction.

“you need to eat more,” you said before taking a bite of your pancake. “you’ll need the extra nutrients if you want to fly again.”

sunday just smiled and accepted your offerings without as much as a word.

roughly an hour passes before everyone is cleaning up their spaces. blade was on dishes duty while the rest went back to their rooms to get changed. sunday was in his quarters, buttoning up a spare polo blade had given him when he heard a knock on his door.

“good morning again.” you greet with a smile.

sunday smiled in return and urged you to come in. “good morning to you, too.”

“kafka and firefly are going out for groceries. do you want anything?”

sunday was taken back to the days where he would water the plants in his office back in the penacony. how he would run his finger down each leaf and smile to himself when a flower starts to bloom. if sunday only joined a few weeks ago, he’d declined immediately. but it's been almost half a year since he’s joined, and he’s feeling a bit more comfortable with asking for more personal things.

“plants,” he replies. “the small ones that are easy to take care of.”

you tilt your head curiously like an owl. “why plants?”

“i used to take care of some flowers back in dewlight pavilion every morning. i’d like to get back into that, if you don’t mind.”

sunday recognized that little smirk of yours. with a shake of his head, he accompanies you out his room after fixing up his hair and bid farewell to kafka and firefly.

“let’s get you all the plants you want then.” 

AFTERNOON — 2:38 P.M.

training in the afternoon was something sunday didn’t get quite used to. even now as he’s exchanging blows with blade, he feels quite unsure of his grip around the hilt of the wooden sword; how his footwork felt sloppy and uncoordinated. sunday wasn’t shocked (maybe, just slightly, a bit bitter) when the dark haired man knocked him off his feet for the seventh time in under two hours.

“you’re overthinking things too much,” the man grumbled, offering his hand to him. “it’s written all over your face; stop thinking about the nitty gritty things and start focusing on the task at hand. if you keep focusing on your opponent's footwork, you’ll end up ignoring his swings.”

“right, apologize. let’s go again.”

sunday had never felt such a competitive surge of emotions come over him whenever he trained with blade. the way he swung the charred sword in his hands; his body and how it moved so fluidly like water; and his determination to win despite beating him by more than a mile; it made sunday want to genuinely get better. blade fought like it would be his last battle, and he would go down with a fight.

“mister is getting better,” muttered silver wolf as she collapsed face first by your side, finishing her own training with elio. “he’s keeping up with the old man now.”

you brush away the bangs that stuck to her forehead and offer her a towel. elio, now in their cat form, sat down on your other side and started playing with the orange peels. “sunday has improved a lot huh? it feels like it was just yesterday when he first joined.”

“for reals.” the silver haired girl stretched and tried to reach over for the oranges.

a memory resurfaced in sunday’s mind when he caught sight of you peeling oranges for silver wolf. how you looked particularly at peace in the moment. his mind replayed the image of robin when she came back to penacony after the accident. he had such an intense amount of guilt for not being by her side at such a hard time, he isn't quite sure how to put it into words. 

“brother!” shouted robin as she entered his office, a bright smile on her face and her phone in hand.

before he could utter a word she had shoved her phone to his face, “an orange?” he asked with a confused tilt of his head.

robin nodded and said, “they say when someone close to you peels your oranges, it's a sign of having a strong relationship! is that why you’ve been peeling my oranges for me recently?”

sunday felt the wind be knocked out of him as his world turned upside down. blade had flipped him over to his back and as the cherry on top, whacked him on the head with his wooden sword. 

“for not paying attention,” he grumbled. “let’s call it a day.”

he didn’t get much of a word in when blade was already seated beside silver wolf (the girl shoving an orange slice to his mouth and him accepting it silently). sunday gets up from his lying position, patting down the dust on his (blade’s) clothes and takes a seat next to you. 

“do you mind opening your wings for me?” you ask as you place a small plate of orange slices on his lap.

taking one in his hand and a small bite, he lets the pair of wings by his waist stretch out and lay on your lap. your careful fingers and observant eyes scanning over every feather, smoothing out the ones that stuck out. it wasn’t long before silver wolf put down her console and started poking at his wings too.

“do you feel that, mister?” she asks.

he shakes his head with a small smile, “no, i do not.”

she only hummed and looked up at you. “will he be able to fly soon?”

you take a few seconds to respond.

“soon,” you mutter as your hands re-adjusted the exoskeleton that’s been supporting them. “they look better than when you first arrived. you seem rather curious, what gives?”

silver wolf pouted and shoved at you lightly. your chuckle rang in his ears like music. the same melodies he would play on his record player when the night feels too long. sunday leaned more to your side when the younger girl showed a pixelated character in her game and pointed to its wings. 

“when you fly again, mister, you have to take me with you!” she excitedly exclaimed with stars in her eyes. “i’ve always wanted to know what it feels like to fly.”

sunday felt a tug deep within his heart when he looked into her eyes. silver wolf, surprisingly, was very welcoming of him when he first joined. they got along fine and would even spend their free time in each other’s company. her excited demeanor reminded him of how robin looked when he first took to the skies. the animated expression on her face; her grin reaching her eyes; and the way she’s leaning forward in anticipation.

“when i fly again, i’ll be sure to let you know first.”

his reply was all the more worth it when the girl jumped in delight and landed on blade’s back. your laughter along with silver wolf’s excited blabbering and even blade’s protests made more flowers bloom inside his chest. sunday ceased his chuckling when he realized he had run out of oranges to eat. before he could even ask for more you’re already replacing his empty one with a new plate filled with peeled oranges.

“i can peel them myself, [name].” he says almost in a whisper.

“i know you can,” you dangle the orange peel in front of elio and let them play with it and stack them in a pile. “but let me do it for you.”

EVENING — 6:00 P.M.

“it’s my turn to decide what we get to eat!”

“it’s been your turn for two weeks. if anything, it’s my turn now.”

sunday could only push the two further and further apart, or at least try too. blade was a foot taller than him and obviously more bulked up than him; silver wolf might be the shortest but she knows how to use it to her advantage, zooming from one place to another like a little mouse. he could only plead with a lopsided smile when you enter the kitchen, your towel around your neck to catch the stray waters that dropped from your hair.

you sighed with the shake of your head and pulled silver wolf back into your chest. two arms snugly wrapped around her small shoulders as she kicked and pointed at blade. sunday on the other hand stepped in front of the man with a stretched arm, trying to calm down the silver haired girl as best as he could.

“at this point if you two can’t decide then i’ll just cook whatever i want.” you joked. both heads turned towards you and glared, but you only laughed and let silver wolf stomp her way to sit on the kitchen counter. “how about some sweet and spicy chicken for dinner? that way you both get what you want.”

sunday watched in amusement as silver wolf jutted her lower lip and mumbled on how she wanted cake. blade only slumped his shoulders and grumbled a low fine and started helping you take out all the ingredients from the fridge as well as the pans and bowls.

“i swear you two have worse cravings than a pregnant wom– ow!” you didn’t get to finish when blade purposely knocked your head when he opened a cabinet. your eyes narrowed at him while he only shrugged. a playful smirk on his lips as he shoved your head lower when you went to berate him.

a soft nudge on sunday’s back pushed him a bit forward. elio’s blue eyes in their cat form met his own gold ones and the two stared for a while. the cat motioned his head towards you and blade who chatted over dinner, not long, silver wolf also joined. 

“go join them.” was all they said before jumping down from the table and going to who knows where.

sunday didn’t get a chance to reply when a pair of arms snuck around his waist. he let out a noise between a surprised gasp and a shout that made you snort in amusement. when he turned to glare at you, you only stuck your tongue out and tied the apron around his waist.

“come help us make dinner, sunday.” 

and how could he say no when you’re already dragging him by the apron to the kitchen aisles with all the ingredients laid down.

by 7:15 p.m., kafka and firefly enter through the door and are met with a memorably amusing sight of sunday almost collapsing on their dining table as elio pushes a carton of milk to his direction. you and silver wolf were laughing at him with pointing hands and tears in your eyes. even blade cracked his own chuckle and rolled his eyes playfully as the halovian kicked him in the shin.

the taller woman surmised that sunday had fallen victim to blade’s insane spice addiction. the stray silver spoon on the table with the sauce was evidence. kafka let out a chuckle as firefly came over to his side –still keeping a bit of distance– and asking if he was alright.

“thought you were only getting groceries?” you ask with a raised brow. eyes surveying the amount of bags she and firefly had in their hands.

“there was a sale for clothes,” kafka reasoned. “how could we say no?”

you shake your head in disbelief and give the woman a side hug. “dinner will be ready in ten. help the poor angel soothe his tongue in the meantime.”

kafka laughed as she dropped her bags by the living room couch and guided sunday to sit down. firefly handed him an empty glass and offered to pour the milk in it. he shook his head no and did it himself. the poor boy downed the drink in one go and it didn’t seem enough to soothe his burning tongue so firefly went to get another carton from the fridge.

sunday furrowed his brows and stuck out his tongue. no doubt his taste buds won’t be working for a while.

“why does blade put so much spice in his food?” he questions the older woman who only smiled. her eyes glazed over to where the said man was and sunday followed. 

“bladie can’t taste anything that isn’t spicy,” kafka said, her eyes not once leaving blade’s figure. “a living corpse can’t really taste anything. spice is considered a pain sensation; pain is the only thing he can feel and taste.”

sunday frowns at this new information. he knows little of blade’s past and had made no effort to try and dig it up. he was curious, yes, but it must be an incredibly sensitive topic if every night the man slips away from his bedroom seeking you or kafka out to soothe the mara that’s coursing through his body.

“i… see.” a hand came to ruffle up his hair. he looked up to see kafka smiling down at him and handed him another cup of milk.

“try to ask him about it someday. maybe you’ll be able to help.”

sunday keeps that information at the back of his mind until everyone finishes cooking dinner.

the clock hit 7:25 and everyone decided to eat by the living room to see what kafka and firefly bought in their mini shopping spree. he sat in between you and blade on the floor, using the small coffee table in front of you to hold your food while silver wolf sat on the couch behind him. her legs over your shoulders and slouched on the couch.

time surprisingly passed slowly tonight. only ten minutes had actually passed of kafka showing off her new coat, but to sunday it had felt like eternity. he absentmindedly tossed his food around his plate, pushing away all the spicy pieces of chicken to the edge of his plate.

“not eating the spicy chicken now are we?” sunday whipped his head to blade and glared. warmth rising to his cheeks, wings fluttering in embarrassment when he remembered what had happened not too long ago. 

“your “normal” amount of spice nearly sent me to a coma,” he rebutted with a roll of his eyes. “so pardon me for not wanting to be sent to the hospital.”

you let out a loud laugh and leaned back on the couch. silver wolf was now using his head as support when she agreed wholly with his statement. firefly let out a quiet cough to silence her laugh while kafka chuckled. blade only rolled his eyes and took the pieces of chicken on his plate and placed it on his own.

“you said you wanted to try.” he argued back. a teasing lilt to his voice as he placed a piece of chicken to his mouth to add more salt to the injury.

“a grave mistake that was.”

you cease your laughing and lean on your propped up arm. “well look at you two, getting along so well!”

sunday scowled while blade scoffed. both picking up pieces of food and silently chewing. what started as a small bump of sunday’s elbow turned into a small petty argument about spice tolerance.

“it is quite sweet of you bladie,” kafka started. “for taking all the spicy pieces off of sunny’s plate, i mean.” 

you jumped to the wagon immediately and nodded. “agreed! you’ve never done that for anyone here before. i’m starting to think you’re playing favorites.”

“one more word and i’m dumping the rest of the chili oil on your plates.”

that had shut you up immediately. for extra measures, you scooted away from them both with your plate close to your chest. “shutting up now…”

NIGHT — 11:20 P.M.

sunday let out a long sigh as he tossed and turned in his bed. he had lost count of how many times he’s replayed tonight’s dinner in his mind to at least try and get some sleep and not be plagued by his nightmares. tonight was joyful, and he’d like to keep it that way till the end of the day. but his insomnia had struck him again like always. he’s already drunk two pills from the medication you bought him and it's yet to take effect.

with one last sigh, sunday threw off the sheets over his body and stalked out of his room as quietly as he could. the base was dark in the dead of night. the halls looked more ominous and longer than normal, something he believed was taken out of a horror film. when he first wandered these halls at this hour, sunday would feel the pricks of his paranoia.

but unlike the first time, there were no longer stray feathers of ravens following his wake. his feet weren’t stained by his blood as he dragged his body to the direction of salvation. in these halls, sunday wasn’t carrying a knife he used to plunge into his own chest to try and make the weight of the sins he didn’t commit a little lighter. he was free; free as he could be in the safety of everyone’s presence.

his gaze shifted to the slightly ajar door that led to your workshop. he frowned as he realized you were staying up late again. when he peered into the small crack, sunday was met with the sight of firefly hunched over your desk, sound asleep with stray pieces of fabric by her feet.

the nights at base were usually cold so sunday quickly walked to his room again to get a spare blanket. as quietly as he could, the halovian entered your workshop, silently cursing when the door creaked slightly. making sure he didn’t step on any of the fabrics on the floor, sunday draped the blanket over the girl’s shoulders.

another memory of his resurfaced. on nights like these, robin would sneak into his office with a pillow and blanket in her hands. she would guide his head gently to lay on the pillow and not the harsh wooden table and make sure the blanket over his shoulders didn’t slip until morning came. by instinct, sunday’s hand came to smooth down firefly’s hair and whispered good night.

he started picking up the stray pieces of whites, blues, and blacks from the floor and neatly folded them one by one. placing them in neat piles on your table. with one last look to firefly’s figure, he smiled to himself and quietly shut the door behind him. his next stop was the kitchen to brew himself a cup of tea.

“he’s gone now, firefly.”

even as you called out to her, firefly did not budge and kept her head in between her folded arms. you shook your head and sat down next to her. you had witnessed what happened and you could only guess the conflicted feelings the girl felt.

“do you think he’s a bad person, little knight?” you ask, hands picking up one of the fabrics sunday had graciously folded and laid them on the table. a measuring tape around your shoulders and a pencil snuggly on your ear.

“he’s done bad things, but…” you hum in reply. firefly’s voice was muffled because of her arms but you heard her perfectly fine, much to her dismay. “i don’t think he’s a fully bad person. i just find it… awkward to interact with him.”

“do you want to interact with him?” you wonder. “as friends i mean.”

firefly finally raised her head. hand clutching the blanket draped over her shoulders as the other ghosted over the spot where sunday had patted down and whispered good night.

“i don’t know.”

you only hum. “sunday is rather strange isn’t he? he’s quite the piece of work if you ask me.”

“what about you?” firefly fires back, scooting her chair closer to you. “do you think he’s a bad person.”

“no. no i don’t.” you answer immediately and feel firefly pause. “he’s kindest person i’ve ever met.”

“i see…”

you pat her head gently and fixate your gaze back to your table.

“he’s a lot more like us than anyone expected. sunday has done bad things that hurt those around him, but we’ve also done that haven’t we? take your time. all of us were lonely at some point, so it’s also his first time he’s ever craved someone’s company. we’ve all done that too, didn’t we?”

when a new day started (around 1:56 a.m.) she made her way back to her room. sunday’s blanket was still wrapped around her even when she laid down on her own bed. she never pointed out how you purposefully drafted a space for the ticket you’ve always hidden on sunday’s new uniform.

© vxnuslogy 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.

[toruro]

— ✧ exes and oh's

pairing. choi seungcheol x reader

description. when your ex-best friend breaks up with your other ex-best friend, you’re stuck between keeping this door (that you never wanted closed) shut tight, and making amends. naturally, choosing to let your heart open to the person who ripped it apart isn’t the easiest of decisions, but then again, life has a funny way of making you choose.

tags. smut (18+), UNEDITED (i wrote this mostly when i was half asleep, there will be missing words), angst, oral (f receiving), petnames, past toxic relationships/ friendships, referenced cheating, alcohol consumption (+ mentions of vomiting + poor decisions abt alcohol in general), rebuilding relationships, trust issues, joshua is extremely protective it's honestly a little annoying, a disgusting amount of internal monologue i am So sorry, theres a lot in this one so if i missed anything lmk

fic playlist.

w/c. 15.8k+

a/n. 1K SPECIAL SORRY IT'S A LITTLE LATE...anyways i really tried to make sure this wasn't super corny but i prob got carried away i can't even tell anymore. update. this is cringe as hell

Your day today is slow, like every other. You aren’t sure why you expect anything different—well maybe you do know. It’s the optimist in you, a small voice in your head says, as you drop down your bookbag next to Joshua’s chair, the two of you slipping into your seats. Optimism my ass, you shoot back at yourself.

“Can you cover my shift?” Joshua asks, turning to you on his chair. You two have just finished your econ lecture and are sitting in the library to catch up on notes.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you give him a wary look. “Joshua,” you whine, pulling out your notebook and pen down.

“C’mon you said you needed some extra cash, and I need the night off anyways. I’ll get you back with something,” he promises as you narrow your eyes.

“Now what do you have that makes you need the night off?”

“Well there’s this party—” he pauses when you huff.

“And what’s to say I wouldn’t like to go to this party?” you retort, slightly annoyed that he expects you to cover his shift over something like this.

Joshua signs, running a hand through his hair. “Well I can say that I don’t think you would be especially keen on going,” he tells you honestly, and then when you catch the look in his eyes you falter.

You think about probing further, but second guess yourself—you probably shouldn’t. It isn’t good for your heart. You are trying to work on putting yourself, your heart, first, but as they say, curiosity killed the cat. “Why do you say that?” you ask, and Joshua gives you that look.

He knows where this is going, and he’s slightly disappointed in you for going against your personal goal of not bringing it up. Then again, he doesn’t control you, and while he can try to guide you down the path of reparations and healing, he can’t force you anywhere.

“Cheol’s birthday is tomorrow,” he tells you like you don’t know. Like you don’t still have it marked down in bright blue sharpie on your calendar. It’s only been six months since you’ve last talked to him, and you don’t feel the need to buy a whole new calendar for the sake of getting rid of his and Yejin’s name.

That, and you don’t think taking his name off would help you forget anyways. Ten years, you think to yourself, ten years shouldn’t be disposed of as easily as a calendar, although it seems Yejin and Cheol had no problem doing just that.

Joshua catches you zoning out. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“No it’s okay,” you sigh, leaning back in your chair. “It’s not like I didn’t know, I don’t know why I asked.” Joshua looks at you sadly.

“The party…it’s going to be a big one, since Soonyoung is throwing it. You can come if you really want, you probably won’t run into Seungcheol anyways,” Joshua offers.

You scrunch up your face, shaking your head. “And Yejin? Either way, I don’t want to even think about how it would look if I showed up to a party for his birthday.”

Joshua gives you a wear look. “You don’t know?”

“Huh? Know what?”

“Cheol and Yejin broke up a while ago.”

“Oh.” You blink once, then twice, staring down at your shoes before inhaling sharply.

“I’m sorry. I thought you knew.”

You shrug, responding, “Whatever. Don’t apologize. I don’t have any business with either of them anyways.”

“Okay but—”

“Seriously Josh,” you mutter, turning to him so he can see the pleading look on your face. “Let’s talk about something else, yeah? I’ll cover your shift.” Joshua gives you a tentative look, opening his mouth before you stop him. “Seriously,” you repeat, “It’s fine.”

And the truth is, you are fine. Sure it hurts when you think about them too much, and even if they are broken up, it doesn’t really make you feel much better, but you are okay. Your days are often dull, yes, but you aren’t unhappy. You’re content, and being in your final year of university, you figure that being content is all you need.

Excitement and love are not quite at the forefront of your mind, and while it does cause a nasty knot to build up in your throat when you think about Cheol and Yejin and all the fun times you have spent with them, you quietly tell yourself that things just played out the way they were supposed to.

You tell yourself that if it didn’t work out, it wasn’t meant to work out. That your life had plans, and that those plans didn’t include them.

As you walk home, you scoff to yourself, thinking about how Cheol and Yejin were willing to give up ten years of friendship with you—with each other—for something that didn’t even last half a year.

Of course it’s painful, but at the end of the day, you’re okay with that.

“You’re pathetic,” Yejin spits out, and you feel yourself growing dizzy. Her animosity that’s more apparent than ever is all you can think about it, and it has your jaw going slack. “How could you—” her face contorts into something so full of hate that you brace yourself for her next words, “How could you do this to me?”

You still, blinking as you let the words sink in. You want to argue, to fight back, to defend yourself, but the words fall flat on your tongue. You want to scream, I didn’t do anything to you, want to tell her that your feelings aren’t there to hurt her, but you can’t. “Yejin—”

“It doesn’t even matter now,” she cuts you off, sucking in a sharp breath, her face that was momentarily scrunched up into anger is now relaxing, looking back at the door where music booms from the party.

“Are you just going to leave?” you manage to ask, steading your breaths as best as you can. Yejin looks at you and from the way she’s slightly taller than you, you nearly cower back in anticipation for her next words.

Yejin always did tend to have a bit of a mean streak, but only towards those she felt had wronged her—never to you. Always had a snarky comment to throw, but never in your direction. Always ready to be on the offense if she felt she needed to, and for the first time in your ten years of friendship, you know what it’s like to be on the receiving end.

Yejin never answers your question. “Cheol likes me,” she tells you as if it isn’t obvious. As if you haven’t mulled over that fact for the past month, the tell-tale lips of Joshua spilling you Seungcheol’s secrets many nights before. “He doesn’t like you.” Yejin pauses. “Because you’re boring.”

Your world stills. Everything was spinning in a hazy maze a moment ago but now it all has paused and her words are hitting you in slow motion. “What?” you try to ask but your voice comes out hardly above a whisper.

Yejin scoffs, and you know in this moment that that is the meanest thing she could have done. “You’re boring,” she repeats, “and that’s why—” she takes a deep breath, “—even if he didn’t like me, he wouldn’t like you, so I’m telling you now to give up.”

You gulp, and the words spill out of your mouth before you can stop. “I was never going to make a move on him,” you retort, finally finding the words stuck in your throat, and while you gain confidence for a moment, it withers away when you catch the amused look on Yejin’s face. “I can’t believe you would think I’d go for him if you liked him.”

“That’s your problem!” Yejin exclaims exasperatedly. “You were going to do nothing even if none of us found out,” she spits out, and you feel your knees growing wobbly again as Yejin continues. “You claim you love him but you’re just willing to give him up like that? That’s pathetic. You are pathetic.”

She turns on her heel, and you call out to her one last time. “Are you—”

“Get Joshua to drive you home,” is the last thing she ever says to you.

Taking Joshua’s shift is boring. Not that you expect anything different—getting you excited for work is not one of your optimism’s capabilities. Evenings at the coffee shop are busier than one would expect, but after considering the fact that it’s the only one open past seven p.m. on campus, the crowd begins to make sense.

You spend your time making drinks for the many students who are—much like yourself—simply trying to get through the night, but you would be lying if you say you don’t notice that the turn out is a little…smaller. After all, it is a Friday evening and Soonyoung’s parties are infamous on campus for being…well for being thrown by Soonyoung.

He’ll invite anyone and everyone, so you wouldn’t be surprised if your instagram feed will be filled with nothing but pictures from Cheol’s party tonight. Not that you care. You don’t want to go, you have no reason to.

Still, you wonder: would Yejin show up? If they did break up, like Joshua told you, what were the circumstances? Are they still friends? What happened? Why did they—

No.You shouldn’t do this to yourself, you can’t. Yejin isn’t your friend anymore, and neither is Cheol. What happened between them shouldn’t be your business—it isn’t. Leave it alone, you tell yourself, tapping your foot on the ground.

Yet, every time you look over the empty seats that fill the cafe, you’re reminded of just why not many people are here tonight. Seungcheol. Chewing on your bottom lip, you go against your better judgment and pull out your phone, immediately tapping on instagram.

Your stories are filled with a plethora of videos and pictures from the house that Cheol shares with Jeonghan and some other friends. It’s dark both inside and out, the only thing illuminating the house being led lights and pool lights in the backyard.Fondly, you remember last summer and Cheol’s birthday, which was spent at his house with you. Yejin, and some other friends in his pool from morning ‘til night. Fun times, you think, and you quietly wonder if Cheol will remember those memories today, or if he will leave them in his dust.

Tapping through the stories, you purse your lips together, inhale sharply, and begin to make yourself a drink. It’s too late in the evening for you to be thinking about this.

Seungcheol’s head is pounding. He can hear his heartbeat ringing in his ears and then there’s the music that has its vibrations going straight to his heart as he stumbles over his own words.

Lights everywhere flashing different colors and he isn’t sure when one cup turns into two, which turns into three, which turns into fuck-knows-how-many until Jeonghan is grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and pushing him into an empty room, calling Joshua over.

Again, Seungcheol’s head is pounding. And he fucking loves it.

Joshua and Jeonghan, on the other hand, are frustrated. Cheol is trying to push through them, clawing for the door as his legs hit each other in a mangled mess until he’s falling onto them as they hold him back.

“You guys can’t fucking do this,” he whines, throwing his head back as he brings a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“When you said you were going to go crazy tonight,” Joshua mutters, “I didn’t realize you meant literally. Are fucking insane?” he hisses.

Cheol gives him an angry look, seeming to sober up for a moment as he straightens his back. “It’s my birthday, giving me a fucking break.”

“If you keep acting like this it’s going to be your death day soon too,” Jeonghan warns, earning him a glare.

“Seriously, do you want alcohol poisoning or something?” Joshua agrees. “Don’t drink anything else for the night, I’m serious.”

“And if I do?” Seungcheol challenges.

“We’ll tell Soonyoung to call it all off. You know he’ll do it if we ask,” Jeonghan states simply.

Cheol scoffs, but doesn’t reply, exercising his last bit of common sense to understand what Jeonghan and Joshua say, they mean. He needs to tread lightly.

Not that he cares much. He hasn’t got much to lose—Cheol only suggested this party because he knew that if it was anything short of big, he’d be reminded of the missing holes in his life right now.

His plan was unsuccessful, clearly, because even with cups after cups of spike punch, he’s still mulling over the fact there’s over a hundred people in this house and not a single one of them is you. Cheol had asked Joshua to bring it up with you—asked him to lead you in the right direction. The right direction being him.

He wasn’t really sure what his expectations were when he suggested it, but now it’s clear that Cheol really was expecting you to show up. He didn’t prepare for any other outcome, especially not one like this, where he’s wasted before the clock even strikes twelve. He’s on the verge of passing out when Joshua leaves the room, only Jeonghan and Cheol in each other’s presence as the former makes sure his elder doesn’t collapse.

Seungcheol’s head is pounding and he thinks it feels fucking great.

Fuck, he really needs to throw up.

You’re back at the cafe two days later, once again spending your evening serving students. It’s a bit of a lighter day, so only you and Jeongyeon are working, catching up and making light conversation through the day.

“Tired?” you ask her, when you catch her leaning against the counter with a wince.

She nods, turning up to look at you. “Chemistry is killing me. I want to cry just thinking about my next exam,” whe groans, throwing her head back. “I think humans have evolved too much. There’s no reason we should have explore this much about like, fucking atoms. Why can’t we just be happy creatures—ignorance is bliss, after all.”

You laugh out loud, not bothering to look at the door when you hear the bell of its opening ringing. “Take a break, yeah? I’ll manage for the next half an hour, if you just wanna sit and chill for a bit,” you offer, Jeongyeon letting out a sigh of relief.

“Are you serious?” she exclaims before hugging you tightly. “I fucking love you,” she says, pulling away and hopping down the back counter and to the back room while you smile widely before turning around to face the new customer at the counter.

Your smile drops faster than you can blink.

Seungcheol’s smile, at one time, was among one of your favorite sights on the whole damn planet. Now, you can’t help but turn away, too scared to look him in the eye. Scared that if you look long enough, you’ll find something you aren’t ready to see.

Don’t falter, you tell yourself. You haven’t been healing for months for it to amount to nothing. “What can I get you?” you ask casually, looking down at the cashier tablet, pretending to look through the catalog.

You didn’t look at him long enough to see if his smile vanished just as quickly as yours, to see if he expected you, to know what he was thinking at all honestly. You aren’t ready for that, and it’s pathetic, you think to yourself.

“Uh,” is the first thing you hear Cheol say to you after six months. You aren’t sure what you’re expecting him to follow with, but it is most definitely not, “Don’t you know my usual?”

It takes all your self control to not snap your eyes up and say, of course I know your usual, I never forgot, how could I forget, it’s always an iced latte with—“No, sorry, I don’t,” you say flatly, still not looking at him.

Cheol is slightly surprised by your choice of words, partly because when Joshua told him that your door was shut and not going to budge open, he didn’t really believe him. Maybe he knew he wouldn’t be able to hit it straight off the bat when he tried to reconcile, but he definitely wasn’t expecting this.

Not that he planned this—he knew you worked here, just not when. Cheol was just struck with luck when he walked in, ready to order a coffee when his eyes landed on your familiar figure this evening, and as an opportunist, he just couldn’t turn down the chance to try and talk to you.

Of course now, he isn’t sure if this course of action was the right one—you were never cold, not to him, not to Yejin, not to anyone really. It’s weird, he thinks.

“Iced latte with hazelnut syrup, please,” he replies with a small nod of acceptance. Joshua was right. Your door was locked.

“Your drink will come out over there,” you say, pointing over to the left counter. “Cash or card?”

He thinks it’s worth a shot to try again. “When was the last time I used anything but card?” Cheol accepts defeat when you don’t crack a smile, not even one bit.

“So you’re using card?” you ask plainly, turning the tablet over so he can swipe down. Cheol chuckles nervously as he pulls out his wallet. He doesn’t say anything after that, and for that, you are grateful.

Once he’s done paying, you turn on your heel quickly and make his drink. You don’t look up, don’t turn back—you don’t know if you’re ready to see him watching you, if he is at all. You aren’t sure what you’d like more: having him watching you, or having him not.

Gulping down a hard lump in your throat as you wait to pull the shot of espresso, you think deeply. It’s just how Jeongyeon said it, you figure: ignorance is bliss.

Jeongyeon thinks parties aren’t your thing. “They just don’t suit you,” she explains when you’re working one afternoon.

You furrow your eyebrows. “What do you mean not my thing?”

She shrugs, carrying in some boxes of cups. “It’s not a bad thing—I’m not calling you boring or anything—I’m just saying. You’re a very work-at-a-coffee-shop kind of girl, and not a let’s-go-party kind of girl, you know?”

The word bounces around in your mind. Boring.

“I can be both,” you huff. “You’re only saying this because I actually do work at a coffee shop.”

“Whatever,” Jeongyeon shrugs. “Come with me tonight then?”

You scrunch up your face. “Tonight? I work tonight,” you tell her with a frown.

“Get Hyunwoo to cover your shift then, I’m sure he’ll do it,” she suggests. You sigh, pulling out your phone to text your other co-worker.

“Okay, but if he says no it isn’t my fault.”

“Ya-da, ya-da, ya-da,” Jeongyeon mutters, waving her hand at you with a sly grin. “So I’ll see you tonight?” he asks with an eyebrow raised.

“If Hyunwoo is willing to give up his Saturday evening, I guess so.”

“Ugh, he better agree. Tell him if he does it, I’ll set him up on a date with Nayeon.”

You roll your eyes with a small giggle. “You need to stop using her to get what you want—she’s going to stop being your friend if you keep setting her up on dates so people can do you favors.”

“If that ends up happening…” Jeongyeon’s voice trails off as she glances at you. “…well that’s what you’re here for!”

It’s how you end up putting on some cute pants and black crop top that you’ve been saving for a night just like. Jeongyeon and you are ubering the way to whoever’s house this party is at, and you’re pretty sure neither of you have a good idea of how you’re supposed to get home, but that’s a problem for another time.

When you arrive, the house is already packed, but the two of you don’t have too much trouble slipping through the open door and into the crowd of people that fill each room. You haven’t been to a party in a while, and the loud music along with the rush you naturally feel when you're around so many people starts to return to you.

You see many faces—mostly ones you recognize, but the names fall flat on your tongue. Like you said, it’s been a while since you’ve come to a party.

When you make your way to the kitchen, you’re greeted by a kind, familiar voice. Smiling at Joshua as he calls out your name, you give him a sideways hug before you make your way to the counter with all the drinks. “Fancy seeing you here,” he teases, and you push him lightly. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“Jeongyeon invited me last minute…I had to get Hyunwoo to take my shift,” you explain.

“Ah, that makes sense,” and there’s a funny look on his face when he says it.

“What’s with that face?”

“Nothing! It’s just…”

“Just what?”

“You know Hyunwoo likes you, right?” Joshua says casually, pouring you a cup of punch. Usually, you don’t trust what other people hand to you, but Joshua is a safe exception.

“What?” you ask, eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets. “You’re lying. Did he tell you that?”

“Not directly…but it’s obvious. Seriously, who gives up their Saturday evening unless they’re making major bank or they have a crush.”

“Whatever. He’s a sophomore,” you murmur, taking a sip of the drink. It’s so sweet it almost masks the taste of alcohol. “Plus, he’s not my type. And I’m not interested in dating. I have too much going on,” you list.

“Please,” Joshua scoffs. “Your thesis and being a barista is not too much.”

“Shut up! I’m here, at a party, aren’t I?”

“Will you come to the next one?”

“That depends.”

“On?” he asks hopefully.

“Hm,” you hum, tapping a finger on your chin. “When, where, who, why, how.”

“Ugh, you’re seriously annoying about this. Just show up when I call you next, okay?”

“No promises. This night better be good if you want me to live up to that.”

“Well I’m not throwing this party so I can’t control that.”

You grin. “Too bad.” You’re having fun, you realize, even if it’s with the comfort of Joshua. You’re glad Jeongyeon brought you here. Joshua glances around for a moment and then back at you, opening his mouth to speak. “Don’t worry about me,” you tell him before he can say anything, “I can take care of myself.”

“I know, I just—” he stops himself. You know where this is going, and Joshua knows he doesn’t really need to say it. Cheol is here.

“It’s okay,” you tell him, patting his shoulder firmly, and in this moment you aren’t lying. Not to yourself, not to Joshua. It is okay. You are okay.

He watches you for a moment and then nods, ruffling your hair for a moment before waving goodbye to head off in some other room. You spend the next few minutes tossing your now empty cup to the side, heading off to some other room to find Jeongyeon. She’s dancing with some friends and the moment her eyes lay on you, she notices the deep flush to your face.

Calling you over, you dance with Jeongyeon, music blaring in your ear as you’re pressed up against her and other girls you’re sure you knew the names of at some point in your life. It’s exhilarating for a moment, but then suddenly, after around fifteen minutes, it isn’t.

“I’m going to head out for a breather,” you tell Jeongyeon loudly over the music, and she doesn’t seem to hear your words but with the way you’re pointing at the back door, she figures out what you’re saying. Nodding with a thumbs up, she smiles before turning back to dance along with her friends as you slip out of the huddle of people.

You notice a familiar face from the corner of your vision, but you feel too hot and the air is too stuffy for you to bear another second longer, escaping to the backyard.

It’s quiet outside. The night air is cool, and you now realize why no one is out in the pool like they usually are. Looking down at your feet, you contemplate your next actions for a moment before rolling up the hem of your pants until your knees and sitting by the edge of the pool, dipping in your legs.

You hiss at the cool feeling for a moment, but quickly adjust—you’ve been feeling too hot all evening and this is exactly what you need to take a moment to calm down. Alcohol has never quite been your best friend, the liquid always sending a flush of heat through your whole body.

The water soothes you, and you feel at peace for a moment. Then there’s the sound of the door sliding open and a familiar patter of footsteps thuds against the concrete.

“Isn’t the water cold?” Jeonghan says casually, standing next to you.

You shrug. “I needed to cool down.”

“Hm, fair,” he murmurs, sitting down himself and crossing his legs on the concrete edge of the pool. “It’s been a minute.”

“Has it?” you reply quietly. Yeah. It’s only been six months. You don’t let Jeonghan know that you’ve been counting.

“You don’t stop by to drop off the old pastries anymore,” he says. “Mingyu tries to make croissants now, but it’s the one thing he isn’t great at baking.”

You aren’t sure if it’s the alcohol speaking but you’re blunt when you respond, “That sucks.” Jeonghan laughs quietly, nodding. He isn’t used to you being like this —when Cheol said you were different, he wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t really this.

“How’s school? You working on your thesis and shit?”

You shrug. “I guess. Busy times.”

“You’re being awfully cold,” Jeonghan says with a tick of his tongue. “D’you not have any drinks—you’re always more fun when you’re drunk.”

“Thanks,” you mutter with furrowed eyebrows. Yejin used to tell you that.

“Sorry, that was rude,” Jeonghan says quickly when he notices how you still. “I didn’t mean it like that—I mean, I guess everyone is more fun when they’re drunk.” You chuckle a little at that and he lets out a sigh of relief at the fact that he’s able to get you to loosen up, even just a little. There’s an awkward silence that settles over the two of you as he watches you as you kick your feet in the water. Jeonghan thinks he might take his chances.“He misses you.”

You feel tears well up in your eyes, and you really hope Jeonghan doesn’t notice. You hate how you know who he’s talking about right away, not needing to say the name. “Jeonghan,” you say, and you know that your wobbly voice gives it all away, “Do you really think that’s fair?”

He says your name, and you turn away.

“Do you think that’s fair to me?” Jeonghan doesn’t say anything, so you continue. “He misses me? What about me? What about how I feel? Has Cheol thought about that? Has he?”

“I’m not trying to say it’s fair, I’m just telling you how he’s feeling—”

“Okay? There isn’t much for me to do about it,” you reply quickly. “Cheol and Yejin—” you let out a humorless laugh, “—it isn’t fair. Life isn’t fair. I was able to deal with it. I’m sure Cheol can too.”

“He’s really upset with himself for it,” Jeonghan tries to reason. “Even when he was with Yejin. They’d have arguments about it.”

“Okay? It’s not like I asked him to do that. It’s not like he was my friend to tell me about it.”

“Well if you would just listen—”

“No, you listen,” you say firmly, scrunching up your eyebrows. “Did you know what Yejin said to me the last time we spoke?” Jeonghan shakes his head. “She told me I was boring,” you spit out, and you realize that it’s the first time you’ve ever actually recounted that night to anyone but yourself. “And that she wasn’t even mad that I liked Cheol, but that she hated how I let her have him.” You pause to wipe away some tears. “And she was right. I didn’t put myself first. I could have told Cheol first, could’ve worked things out before she found out, could’ve done something for him, but I didn’t, and I’m not going to make that same mistake again so right now I am going to put myself first.”

Jeonghan is frowning now at the intake of all this information. It’s his first time hearing your side of the story, and he can’t help but get confused with the different timeline’s he’s got going on inside of his head. “Is this really putting yourself first?” he finally asks, and you glare at him.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m just saying. He was your best friend for a whole decade. Maybe having him back in your life will do more good than you think.”

You scoff. “You mean do Cheol more good to his life. Don’t look at me like that—what do you know about me that makes you so sure of this?”

“Cheol knows you, you know him, and as far as I know, you could use a friend or two.”

“Thanks for calling me friendless,” you say dryly. “But in case you haven’t noticed, I’m fine. I am over it, and I don’t mind having two less friends. And either way, Cheol couldn’t have been that good of a friend if he was willing to just let go of me like that after all those years.” Jeonghan stays silent. “I don’t need more drama in my life anyways,” you conclude, pulling your feet out of the water and standing up.

“You’re not going to give him a second chance?”

You don’t answer as you walk away.

Choi Seungcheol isn’t drunk, for once in his life. Okay that is an exaggeration, but it’s the first time in a few months that he isn’t stumbling over himself at a party. It’s the first time in a long while that he hasn’t even had a sip of alcohol at this outing, and honestly, he’s quite proud of himself.

He knows why that is, and he isn’t afraid to admit it. When Joshua walks past him and gives him a funny look, Cheol knows what’s up. “No drinks?” Joshua asks, quirking up a brow.

“Joshua,” he murmurs, and he’s surprised his friend can even hear him over the music. “Jeonghan is talking to her.”

Joshua purses his lips. “Yeah, I know.”

Choi Seungcheol is quiet at a party, for the first time in…well pretty much ever. He isn’t under the influence, but it feels like everything is racing through his mind at a hundred miles per hour. Leaning against the wall, Joshua softens his gaze.

“Loosen up,” he says, and then thinks again. “And please don’t do anything stupid.”

“I’m not drunk,” Cheol scoffs, standing up straight as he glances out the back door, watching you kick the pool water. He remembers his birthday party over a year ago—the pool, you, Yejin, fun. Cheol walks away, not sure where he’s heading and Joshua, using his better judgment, doesn’t follow.

Choi Seungcheol isn’t drunk, but he might as well be out of his damn mind.

Tonight is not your night.

Your head is pounding. You fucking hate it. You don’t like getting drunk, at least not like this. Not in the way that you’re seeing two of everything. Not in the way that your body feels like it’s on fire, sweat soaking your sheen black shirt. Not in the way that you’re thinking about everything you shouldn’t.

After your conversation with Jeonghan, you realize you don’t have an answer. Pandora’s box is too tempting, and all your better judgment tells you to leave this door closed. To bury it up, throw it into the ocean, burn it—anything to keep it away from you, but the alcohol that courses through your veins brings the memories flooding back.

Now, you aren’t sure if your head hurts from thinking about Cheol, or from the alcohol, or both.

It’s too much.

You lean against one of the steps as you sit on the stairs, clutching a bottle of water close to your chest. Jeongyeon is…she’s fuck knows where. You lost track of her hours ago—after you came back in from the backyard, you got lost in conversations with people you haven’t caught up with in ages, and one thing led to the next and now you’re on nth drink.

You feel dizzy and the cup in your hand without the water bottle slips past your fingers and before you can act quick enough, the cup is tumbling down the two steps in front of you and spilling all over the floor. Granted, it isn’t the only mess made in this house tonight, and by the looks of it, it won’t be the last, but you still feel bad, quickly scrambling up to pick up your cup and find some tissues.

As you lean forward and stumble over the steps a little, you realize your center of gravity is off and you’re about to fall forward, quickly holding out your hands to brace your fall. As you land on the ground with a thud, your mind spins—everything spins, you feel too warm, and then you feel your drink stain your pants in the spot you fell onto and—fuck, this really is too much for you.

Maybe you should’ve just accepted what Jeongyeon said. Maybe—fuck, who are you kidding—parties definitely don’t suit you. You’d be a fool to deny that now, especially when you’re aching to just leave already, even though you never made any plans of getting home.

That problem that you saved to deal with “at a later time” is becoming a problem you need to deal with now and you race through your options, all while seated on the floor, forgetting about how you need to clean up this mess.

It’s when your head starts to hurt and you scrunch up your face in hopes to soothe your headache when you hear his voice. A warm hand wrapped around your wrist and then it’s pulling you up and onto your wobbly legs. “Let’s get you out of here,” Cheol mumbles, and without weighing the consequences of your actions, you nod along.

You don’t care anymore. You need to leave, and if Cheol is the path to getting out, you won’t mind.

When his arms lead you out the front door and into the night, you feel cold. Extremely cold. Maybe it’s because your body is so warm, maybe it’s because the wet alcohol on your pants is sending shivers up your spine—maybe it’s that you’re starting to slowly realize who you’re with.

Standing on the grass, you aren’t sure what to do now. What should you do? What does Cheol want you to do—you stop yourself. It shouldn’t matter what he wants you to do, you remind yourself, so why do you find your gaze lazily making its way over to his face?

Fuck ignorance and its bliss. Right now, you want to know what Cheol is thinking. He’s looking down at you, and suddenly you feel small. His face isn’t demeaning, it’s not angry, he’s not upset, but you just feel so pathetic.

And god, do you hate that word. It echoes in your head. Your dirtied pants, flushed and puffy cheeks, disheveled hair, all as you struggle to stand up—pathetic. You turn away from him, not being able to watch him watch you any longer.

“Let me drive you home,” he says finally over the thick air.

“You’re drunk,” you protest mindlessly—you don’t have a clue if that’s true at all, but knowing Cheol, it probably is.

“I haven’t had anything all night.” Nevermind, you tell yourself, maybe you don’t know him at all. Can six months really change a person that much?

Cheol is thinking the same thing about you. Your eyes are glossy and you look so out of it and he can’t even remember the last time he saw you like this—the only memories he has are when you first got drunk with him and Yejin in high school. The memory shoots an arrow at his heart, but he brushes off the feeling, focusing on you right now.

“Trust me,” he says. You blink a few times, staring at the ground, then at the sky, and then at Cheol. “Trust me,” he repeats, and now you remember just how well you know him. Cheol isn’t asking right now, no, he’s begging. You think as deeply as your wasted mind will let you.

Do you trust Cheol? No.

Cheol hurt you. Yejin hurt you.

Is this about Yejin? No.

Do you trust Cheol? No.

What is this about? I don’t know.

Do you trust Cheol? I don’t know.

Can you trust Cheol? …

He places a hand on your shoulder and the touch is firm.

Can you trust Cheol? Of course you can.

His eyes are soft as you look up at him.

Do you trust Cheol? Absolutely.

Optimism would say that you left the door unlocked. Joshua would disagree and say that you weren’t going to be inside even if the door was wide open. Jeonghan, surprisingly, doesn’t agree with Joshua—your words were harsh, but the water streaming down your cheeks told him that there was more going on in your head than you let on.

Seungcheol tends to only listen to what he wants to hear, at least that’s what all his friends have noticed. They saw it with Yejin—ignoring all the red flags, late nights of arguing until Cheol would murmur, “it’s fine, let’s just go to sleep.” Reality wasn’t the easiest for him to face, and now it’s more apparent than ever.

“He’s too optimistic about her,” Joshua sighs, throwing himself onto his friend’s couch the morning after. He slept over at his friends’ place, and they follow carefully behind him now.

“He still has hope?” Mingyu asks incredulously, sitting on an armchair.

“Too much of it,” Joshua replies, sitting up straight so that there’s room for Jeonghan on the couch.

“She’s still nice to me,” Mingyu says thoughtfully. “Maybe she doesn’t hate him.”

“Well that doesn’t mean anything,” Jeonghan says. “She’s still close friends with Joshua, so I don’t think she’s going to let that whole situation get in the way of her own friendships.”

Joshua nods in agreement, adding, “That, and I never said she hated Cheol.”

Mingyu furrows his eyebrows. “She doesn’t?”

“I don’t think she ever did,” Joshua says honestly, leaning back into the cushions as he stretches his arms.

“Really? I would’ve,” Mingyu admits and Jeonghan rolls his eyes.

“We know that you would,” he teases, causing the taller boy to pout but keep his mouth shut. “Anyways, I think Cheol is going to keep trying.”

“I know he will,” Joshua mutters, running a hand over his face. “He’s going to go in circles after her.”

“She’s not gonna give in?” Mingyu asks, and Joshua shakes his head, but Jeonghan puts his hand up in protest.

“I think she might eventually come ‘round to a stop,” he says, and Joshua shoots him a look of surprise. “I dunno, I know you and her are close, but I just have a feeling. We’ll have to see.”

“Don’t let Cheol hear that. He’ll take it as a sign to never stop,” Joshua warns.

Seungcheol doesn’t hear this conversation now or ever, but he never had plans of stopping in the first place. He was always more optimistic than you—than anyone you knew, really—and anyone who knows him should know better than to underestimate the extent of his determination.

Jeonghan and Joshua are making that mistake right now, and even though Cheol will never know what they said, he is determined to prove them wrong, for the sake of his own sanity.

Jeongyeon picks up the phone after the first ring. “I am so sorry,” she babbles into the line. “I—fuck—we should’ve figured out a ride—I mean I should’ve figured out a ride since I basically forced you to come and I knew I would be drinking and—god, I am so sorry.”

Your head rings at the way her voice blares through the phone, and you sit up and against your headboard. You woke up only moments ago, greeted by a million texts from Jeongyeon, not bothering to soothe your hangover headache before calling her back—she must have been worried, you told yourself.

“It’s okay,” you mumble, reaching over to grab some water from your bedside table. “I got a safe ride home.”

“Yeah, Joshua told me…but still, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you to find a ride on your own.” “Don’t apologize Jeongyeon, I left you without a ride too so stop apologizing or else you’ll start to make me feel bad.”

You can hear her huff on the other end, and you smile. “Okay fine, but seriously. I’ll cover one of your shifts or something soon because I feel bad for even taking you. You looked miserable.”

“That was only because Jeonghan came up to me,” you tell her honestly.

“Jeonghan? Like Seungcheol’s friend?” she says, and you can tell from her voice that she’s hesitating to even say his name.

“Yes,” you sigh softly. Jeongyeon wants to know more, you can feel it, but you aren’t in the mood to bring it up, at least not with her. “It’s whatever. I’ll see you Wednesday?”

She pauses for a moment, seemingly trying to comprehend your quick switch of topics. “Uh, sure. Text me if you need anything, okay?”

“Mhm,” you hum, pulling back your phone as you click to hang up. Letting your head fall back onto your pillow, you inhale deeply. You remember the night before too vividly—even if you were drunk, there was too much happening for you to forget.

You know you can’t forget, so you decide to do just what you’ve been doing for the past half year: ignore. It’s what you’re best at, after all. Yet as your day goes on, your mind begins to trail off. You think, and you think, and you think until you aren’t sure what was real and what was not from last night.

You start to realize that you aren’t as good at ignoring as you like to think.

“You think too much,” Hyunwoo jokes, watching you stare at the shot of espresso in front of you. You’d made it for yourself as an attempt to feel more energized after your lecture, but you find yourself zoning out as the small cup sits on the counter, waiting for you to gulp it down.

“Uh, sorry,” you murmur, shaking your head a little. “This shift is light and we haven’t had any customers in a few minutes so I just…”

“It’s fine,” Hyunwoo replies with a smile, and you purse your lips. Ever since Joshua told you that Hyunwoo likes you, you’ve been warning yourself to tread lightly. Not that he isn’t a good guy—Hyunwoo is great—he’s just not your type.

What is your type? The thought is swept out of your mind before you even come up with an answer, swooping up the shot of espresso and holding it up to your lips.

It’s been three days since the party, and you haven’t talked to Joshua in a minute, so your mind is slightly frazzled. Hyunwoo is nice, but you miss the comfort of your close friend, and maybe you’re just a little curious to see if he has anything to say about Cheol driving you home that night.

You’re sure he does—you can already predict his words: “you told yourself you wouldn’t talk to him.” Joshua might be harsh with his words, but you feel with the way you’ve been losing your damn mind recently, you need someone like him to bring you back to reality.

Maybe that’s what went wrong with you, with Cheol, with Yejin—with the three of you. You and Cheol were too lost in fantasies, Yejin always holding you two down. She was right—Cheol wouldn’t like you. Two people who didn’t know a reality other than their imaginations couldn’t work out.

Cheol needed someone to ground himself, you needed someone to ground yourself, and at the end of the day, Yejin chose to help him. You still think about what you would have done if you were in her situation, and after months, you can’t come up with an answer.

You remember the events leading up to her decision like it’s as clear as day, and no matter how many times you replay that moment, you don’t know what to think, except that you’re angry, you’re sad—they left you.

“I heard you and Joshua,” Yejin tells you quietly, and you feel your heart stop. “You like Seungcheol?” and the way she uses his full name makes you feel almost ashamed for confirming it with a nod.

“I—” you pause, “—I didn’t know you liked him.”

“I love him,” she corrects you.

“Oh,” is all you manage out.

“You’re pathetic.”

That was the start of it. Yejin sent Chaeyoung over the next day to pick up her stuff from your apartment. You didn’t hear another word from Cheol. The last thing you remember him saying to you was from that night is still a jumble in your head.

You hate crying, and everyone knows it. So when you sprint out of the room minutes after Yejin, eyes red and puffy, Cheol knows something is wrong. Before he can walk up to you, there’s a hand on his shoulder and Yejin has her head pushed up next to his ear.

You don’t know what she tells him, but his gaze falters. The last thing you hear him say is your name quietly as you rush away.

That night, Joshua drives you home while you think about how you’re going to tell your mother that Cheol and Yejin won’t be coming to your house for spring break.

That was six months ago. Of course, six months pales in comparison to the decade you spent as friends. The years from middle school, to high school, to college—you three side by side. Things changed so quickly, too quickly.

Sometimes you think about what she might’ve told him—what she could’ve said that made him turn away at every gathering you were both at after that. That made him erase the years you shared before all this. That made you all strangers.

You figure things like this will never make sense to you. You don’t understand now, and you probably never will—you are content with that.

At least, up until three days ago you were. Some small voice in your head is reminding you of the confusion, the hurt, the heartbreak you felt when it all happened. Now, you’re more desperate than ever to know what exactly happened, it’s just a matter of if you’re willing to go down this rabbit hole of reconnection.

It’s like the universe hears you and laughs. The ringing of the door fills the little cafe and you’re pushing yourself off the counter, nodding and Hyunwoo. “I got it,” you tell him, dropping your cup in the sink and walking over to the register.

Of course it’s Cheol standing in front of you. You can’t tell if he found out your schedule from Joshua (but no, Joshua wouldn’t do that to you) or if it’s just something like fate. Fate.

You sigh, preparing yourself for yet another onslaught of thoughts. “What can I get you?”

There’s something mischievous glinting in his eyes. “Don’t you remember my usual?” Cheol attempts, and you’re surprised by his forwardness. Don’t be shocked, you think. Cheol never backs down, never stops trying.

Do you give in? Just this once? He did help you out that night—you aren’t sure if you’d be able to get home in one piece if it weren’t for him. Then again, it could’ve just been one of Cheol’s kind favors, something that isn’t reserved for only you, but just any drunk girl in general. You don’t want to mistake his qualities of a gentleman with him holding out a figurative olive branch.

Trust me, his words are like a broken record in your mind.

You’re thinking too much. Fuck, if he didn’t hold out the olive branch that night, you’re going to try to now.

“Iced latte with hazelnut syrup,” you say quietly, tapping it into the tablet. You’re scared to look up because you know he's grinning. You shouldn’t want to be the reason behind his smiles, but you do.

“Thanks,” he chirps, holding out his card so you can turn around the tablet for him.

“Your order will come out on your left,” you tell him, not looking up. You expect things to stop now, for things to quietly go back to normal.

“Hey, when do you get off?”

You do a double take to make sure you heard him correctly. “Sorry?” You finally look up at him and god, you start to remember why you loved his smile so much.

“I asked when you get off from your shift? Six?”

“I—uh, yeah,” you reply without thinking. “How’d you know?”

“That’s when Joshua gets off on Fridays. Just a guess,” he shrugs. You purse your lips and don’t respond, not sure where to take things from here; yeah you held out the branch but you didn’t expect him to grab it just this quickly. “Can I stay until then?”

You should say no. You really should say no. But then you’re thrown back to three days ago and the words are sounding an awful lot like trust me, trust me, and then you realize you just can’t deny him.

“Okay,” you say softly. You can tell from the look of relief on Cheol’s face that he wasn’t expecting this, and you aren’t sure what to take from that. As you turn to make his drink, you glance at the clock. Thirty seven minutes before your shift ends, and you can’t figure out if you’re going to try and make the time before them fly or go slow.

Handing Cheol his drink, you don’t say anything, your movements swift as you try and unbox your own feelings. Of course, you aren’t given the liberty to do that, not when Hyunwoo is standing in front of you.

“Is that Seungcheol?”

“Take a wild guess,” you mutter, closing your eyes tightly for a moment. Maybe if you think hard enough you’ll realize it’s just a dream where your actions have no real consequences.

“I thought you two didn’t talk.”

“Did Joshua tell you that?”

“Kind of…maybe…I sorta figured it out on my own,” Hyunwoo admits. “Sorry, that sounds weird.” You sigh softly, feeling bad for how flustered Hyunwoo is.

“It’s okay…let’s just get back to work,” you suggest, turning away to clean up some of the counters with your extra time.

You don’t notice it, but Cheol watches the conversation between you and Hyunwoo unfold, and while he can’t hear what you two are saying, he has a feeling he won’t like it. He has to remind himself to not have high expectations, to not get his hopes up, just like Jeonghan and Joshua warn, but he just can’t help it.

But when you agree to see him after your shift (he knows you didn’t technically agree to that, but he knows you and is sure that you caught onto his underlying message), he just has to stay hopeful. So as he patiently waits for the clock to strike six, he thinks about what to say.

To be honest, this all happened on a whim. Again, he didn’t really know that you were working today, he just happened to get lucky. Cheol himself isn’t sure what exactly he wants to say to you, he just knows it is a lot.

He thinks about you a lot. The good, the bad, all the in between—Seungcheol misses you. And he knows that it isn’t fair, that he shouldn’t do this, that he doesn’t have the right—Joshua has made that clear to him on numerous occasions.

“She’s fine without you.”

“But—”

“You don’t have a say about being in her life.”

“And you do?” Cheol shoots out.

Joshua steps back. “I don’t either, but I know how she’s doing better than you. I know how she felt after everything happened.”

Cheol pauses. That, Joshua did. Cheol didn’t know anything, did he? “This isn’t about you, it’s about me and it’s about her.”

“There is no you and her,” Joshua says bluntly. Cheol doesn’t say anything, but he knows in his mind that he needs to change that.

Cheol lets the idea run through his mind, that he's making a royal mistake right now, and all this is going to amount to nothing. He doesn’t mull over it for longer than ten seconds. He is going to do this, and if he doesn’t, he’d be damned if he didn’t at least try.

You get off your shift while Hyunwoo continues his. “You’re going to talk to him?” he asks with knitted eyebrows, pointing at Cheol.

“Uh, yeah,” you say sheepishly in the back, untying your apron. “Don’t tell Joshua, he’ll kick my ass,” you add, only only half joking. Joshua definitely won’t let you hear the end of this, but that is another problem for another time. Hanging up your apron, you grab your backpack from the shelf and slip to the back door. “See you later!” you chirp, throwing Hyunwoo one last wave before you enter the seating area from the back to make your way to Cheol who’s sitting at an elevated stool by the window.

Your once confident strides are much smaller now, you find yourself holding back each one more and more. Do you really want this? Trust me. You’ll just have to find out. “Hey,” you say quietly, and this time you don’t let your gaze fall, tapping on Cheol’s shoulder. He turns around quickly, straw in his mouth as he drinks the half finished drink with a smile.

“Hey, you’re early,” he states casually, glancing at the time. It’s 5:57.

“I guess,” you reply, voice as still as you can manage.

“You’ve probably been here for a while,” Cheol murmurs to himself, getting up from his seat. “You want to go on a walk? The weather is nice right now.”

You want to roll your eyes and tease him, saying “it’s August, of course the weather is nice,” but you stop yourself—you aren’t sure if you’re ready for that level of comfort yet. “Sure,” you agree instead, adjusting your bag over your shoulder as you follow him out the door and onto the main street.

“How was work? Stopped working at the bakery, huh?” he says, and you just don’t get it. How is he being so casual? How is he acting like this is the first time you two have had a real conversation in months? How is he—you don’t even realize you’ve stopped walking until he calls out your name. God, you really missed how it sounded when he said your name. “What’s wrong?”

You don’t even think before responding. “What do you think is wrong?” Cheol is standing a few feet in front of you and the look on his face is confusing…you can’t read it. You aren’t sure if it’s because he’s confused, or if it’s because you just aren’t used to this, or what. Whatever it is, you don’t like it.

“I’m sorry,” Cheol says softly, stepping forward. You still don’t move. “I—uh shit, sorry—this,” he brings a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, “this is weird, you’re right I just, I don’t know—”

“Is there something you want to say?” Your eyes bore into his, and Cheol knows he can’t keep any secrets from you.

“I’m sorry.”

You nod. “Okay.”

“Okay?” he asks hopefully.

“What do you want me to say?” you ask with a shrug. “Sorry for what?”

“A lot of things. Everything,” Cheol admits, and your eyes widen slightly at his honesty. You pretend to glance down at your watch.

“Well you’re going to have to be more specific,” you tell him truthfully, “and don’t have a lot of time.”

“I’ll come again!” he says quickly, holding his hands up as you’re about to walk towards your car. “When do you work? Tell me. I’ll come after every shift.”

“I work almost everyday.”

“I’ll come everyday,” he says with no hesitation. Your heart tightens. You a month ago would have said fuck no, but then trust me, trust me is echoing in your head again and before you can stop yourself, you’re nodding.

“Mondays and Tuesday I get off at 6, Wednesdays at 9, Thursdays at…”

You used to believe Seungcheol always lived up to his promises. When you were younger, you couldn’t think of a single time when he didn’t go by his word. You trusted him, always, so when he broke the promise of “we’ll stick together”—arguably the only one that actually mattered—you were shattered. You still are, or at least your trust is.

Right now, Cheol promises he’ll come see you after every shift. You don’t think you should trust him, but you do anyway, watching the clock to make sure he’s always here on time. You tell yourself you do it because you don’t like to be kept waiting, but you know deep down that you’re just trying to find an excuse.

You’re trying to justify your distrust, even though you already have a perfectly good reason for being tentative around Cheol. Somehow, whenever you’re with him, you forget about it all.

It’s awkward most of the time. Well, more like you’re awkward and Cheol just pretends you aren’t, acting all normal and like you aren’t stumbling over your words and blanking out mid sentence.

You’re not nervous, you just don’t know what to say, the words getting lost in your head as you wonder whether or not there’s a line and where it is and if you should cross it.

Today is the fifth day Cheol comes to see you after your shift. He comes in at 6:54 which is a bit earlier than usual, and it’s the first time that Joshua is seeing the scene unfold. As Cheol walks in, your friend throws you a careful glance before waving over at his friend and connecting fists as he hops over to take his order.

“Iced latte with—”

“I’m not here for a drink,” Cheol says quickly, putting his hand up before he can watch Joshus key in his usual order.

“Huh…did I miss something?” Joshua asks, checking his watch for any missed messages. You chew your lip and Cheol glances at you, realizing that you haven’t told Joshua that you and him are speaking again.

“Uh, no,” Cheol murmurs. He points at you and when he sees that you don’t protest, he proceeds. “We’re, uh, I’m just waiting for her shift to end and—” he stops talking when Joshua whips his head around to stare at you with a look of bewilderment.

You nod shyly, untying your apron as you make your way to the back room. Joshua follows quickly behind you, closing the door behind him while you hang up the garment. “What does he mean by that?”

“I dunno, Josh,” you say, because honestly you aren’t sure how to explain it either.

“Remember what you said?” he tells you—you know where this is headed, and you really don’t want him to bring it up. “You said you’d never forgive them.”

You did say that. “In a moment of anger,” you argue, grabbing your bag. You know he’s just being protective of you, but right now it’s getting on your nerves.

“And? You’re just going to forgive him because he drove you home when you were drunk?”

“I haven’t forgiven him!” you pause. “At least not yet.”

“You’re seriously going to forgive him after all that you said about moving on?”

“I have moved on, Joshua,” you tell him. It’s true. “There’s nothing wrong with letting him back in my life now, especially if he wants to.”

“And what if he fucks up again?”

You roll your eyes as you walk to the back door. “How’s that supposed to happen? Thought you said he and Yejin broke up?”

“They did, but that isn’t the point.”

“Then what is?” you ask exasperatedly. “I’m old enough to make my own decisions. You’re acting like I don’t know the consequences of my actions. You’re acting as if I wasn’t the one who had to go through all that, so please just let me make this decision.”

Joshua steps back and sighs, and by the way he doesn’t say anything as you open the door, you assume he has accepted defeat.

Cheol meets you on the other side of the door, wearing his usual smile. You can only pray that he didn’t hear your conversation with Joshua. “Hey,” he greets and you nod in response. Well if he heard anything, he pretends he doesn’t. The truth is, Cheol hears every word, he’s just very good at putting a smile on his face.

You two walk out of the store silently and side by side. “How was work?” Cheol asks.

“Good. It’s most fun with Joshua,” you reply, walking on the sidewalk like you two usually do. You follow a trail down the street and through some parks for kids, always making a round trip back to your cafe where your car is parked.

The days have been getting shorter, and it’s evident by the way the sky is painted a deep orange right now. “Didn’t sound like he’s too happy today,” Cheol comments, and you halt your steps for just a moment, realizing he did hear you two.

“Uh, yeah,” you mumble. You two haven’t talked about that since you started speaking again. All the things Cheol said he wanted to apologize for were left suspended in the air, waiting for one of you to pluck it out and face reality. Neither of you were ever really good at that. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.” 

“I’m sorry you had to say that,” Cheol responds almost instantly, standing in the middle of the sidewalk and turning to face you.

Your eyebrows furrow when you respond, “What?”

“I mean, shit, I worded that badly,” he groans, bringing a hand up to rub the back of his neck. “I’m sorry that…you know—you said you’d never forgive me and I’m sorry. And I know you probably shouldn’t forgive me but I’m sorry.”

You certainly weren’t expecting that, but then again, you need to remind yourself to never be surprised when it comes to Cheol. You bite back the words, “it’s okay,” because you aren’t ready to say that, so instead you just nod. “Okay.” Your eyes glaze around your surroundings and they fall on a bench. Pointing at it, you say, “Let’s sit, yeah?”

You two sit side by side on the bench, and you think that this is the closest either of you have been in a long time, your thighs almost brushing against each other’s. The sky darkens above you, and you usually would take this as your cue to go back to your car, but tonight, you stay.

There’s a question that’s prodding at the back of your mind, and you chide yourself for even thinking about it. Don’t ask him, don’t do it, and you almost listen. Almost. You figure that the fact that you’re even here with Cheol right now is a sign that things are changing more than they already have, that you’re changing in ways that you didn’t know you could, and Cheol is changing, and he’s changing for you.

Cheol senses it too, that you’re thinking deeply, and he waits. When you’re finally lifting your head and looking up at the sky, he turns to you as you open your mouth. “How did you guys break up?” You can’t bring yourself to say “you and Yejin.” It’s too painful of a reminder that there was once a Cheol and Yejin, and that it came at the expense of you and Cheol and Yejin.

He takes a deep breath and hesitates, but you don’t retract your question. You feel after everything, you deserve to know, no matter how aching the memory is. “She cheated on me.”

“Oh.”

Cheol’s voice is flat for the first time since you’ve started speaking again. “Yeah,” he mutters. You purse your lips together, unsure of what to do, what to say. There was a time that you felt you knew all the right words, all the right things to do, but now you’re lost. Maybe it’s because Cheol has changed, but then—no, it’s not him, it’s you. You’ve changed. You thought you didn’t care, and that was true.

You didn’t care about what happened to Cheol or Yejin or them because they had left you and there was nothing after that. You didn’t care because caring wouldn’t help you get either of them back, and you didn’t care because caring only made long nights of you crying in your bed even longer.

But did you ever stop caring about Cheol? About Yejin? There’s a fine line, you realize, between caring about your relationship with someone and caring about them, and it hits you that not once did you not care about Cheol.

What would you have done if this had happened six months ago? What would you have said? You were never the best at words, but when it came to Cheol and Yejin, you always found some way to make them feel better. Looking over at Cheol, his head hangs low as he chews on his lip.

You reach over your hand and place it on his shoulder gently. “I’m sorry,” you tell him.

Cheol chuckles hollowly, causing you to frown deeply. “Shouldn’t I be the one saying that?”

“We have time for that later,” you reply honestly, not breaking the contact even when he shifts a little, finally looking up at you.

“Later?” he asks hopefully. You smile and nod. This is a promise, you both know. Joshua is going to kill you for this later.

“He got fired?” you snort. “Didn’t he say he could get away with anything?”

“Yeah,” Cheol chuckles. “And to be fair, he did get away with a lot. Honestly, I’m surprised he didn’t get fired months ago. He would give me and Soonyoung discounts all the time, it was crazy.”

“I remember that…” you say quietly.

“Yeah, anyways, he got fired and now he’s complaining about not having extra cash. Minghao’s telling him to just find another job but Hannie is convinced that he’ll be able to convince his boss to hire him back…”

“Knowing Jeonghan, he might just be able to pull that off.”

“Who knows,” Cheol murmurs with a shrug. “It’s late. Do you want to go?”

“Want me gone already?” you tease. Things are more comfortable now. It isn’t the same as before—how could it—but it’s getting there. You aren’t sure you’ll ever be “back to the old days,” but you sure are trying to get as close as you can.

“You know that isn’t true,” he shoots back. You trust him, and if that’s a mistake, you hardly care. Maybe this is where you start to crumble. “I’m just trying to make sure that it’s not too late when you get home.”

He’s being caring, although it isn’t unexpected. Cheol was always caring. “You’re right,” you murmur, not wanting to admit that you might have wanted to sit here and talk to him a bit longer. You stand up, grabbing your back and he follows after you as you walk up the street in the direction of the shop. You return back to the conversation of Jeonghan and his antics both in and out of the workplace, and before you know it, you’re back at the parking lot.

You’ve grown to look forward to these meetings—how could you not—and it does kill a little bit of self control inside of you every time you realize that fact.

“You gonna go now?” he asks softly, and as you stop walking, you let the tension grow thick. This part is always awkward. You don’t know if it’s fitting to say “bye” or “goodbye” or “see you later” or hug him or wave or—you usually settle for a smile but there’s a growing ache in your heart which tells you that maybe you want more.

Cheol seems to think the same, and it all happens so quickly, too quickly, and suddenly you’re going dizzy and your world is spinning.

Choi Seungcheol’s lips are soft.

And they don’t press against yours for more than a second before you place your hands on his chest and push him back. You almost indulge. Almost.

“Why would you do that?” you whisper, not meeting his gaze. Cheol runs a hand through his hair, steeping back with wide eyes.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Fuck, I am so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking—shit, shit, shit—I’m sorry, I’m so sor—”

You ball your fists and your face contorts into some ugly sort of grimace. “Stop saying that!” you cry out, and Cheol stills. “Stop fucking saying you’re sorry! I-I-I hate it!”

“What?” and the hurt is more than evident in his voice.

“I know you’re sorry, okay? I get it,” you tell him exasperatedly. “And you keep saying it—you’re sorry for everything, you’re sorry for all of it. It’s all you say, but maybe if you just stopped and thought for a second you’d realize that no matter how much you keep saying it, I have not once said it’s okay.”

He gapes at you for a moment but recovers quickly, running a hand through his hair. “I—” he pauses, “I don’t know how else to tell you. It’s been a few weeks and—”

“You didn’t speak to me for six months,” you spit out, and you wonder if this is what it’s all going to come down to. The past month of you figuring out your emotions, working out what you want, what’s good for you, what’s not—you’re afraid that right now it will all amount to nothing.

Maybe you two were in your heads too long. Maybe this was your harsh pull back down to the ground.

“Six months, Seungcheol,” you repeat, and he winces when you use his full name.

“I know, I’m s—”

“You’re sorry, I know,” you say quieter this time, slumping against the wall. His lips were so warm, so soft, you still feel their ghost on your lips. You calm down for a second at the thought, but then your anger bubbles up when you remind yourself that Yejin got to taste him too. Got to have him, love him, cherish him for those six months. Jealousy doesn’t suit you, but that isn’t what this is about anyways. Right now, all it does is fuel your heat.

“I just—I don’t know how to really say it,” Cheol admits.

“Well you should figure that out,” you tell him harshly. “I can’t stand here forever, waiting for you to find the right words.”

“You’re right, I know.”

“Do you?” you ask, exhausted. It’s all catching up to you know—you’re tired, so tired.

“I do.”

Do you trust Cheol?

“I don’t believe you,” your voice quivers when you say it, and Cheol feels his heart break at the sound. “I can’t.”

“I know—that’s my fault, I know.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

“I’m trying.” You know he is, there isn’t a doubt in your mind. Inhaling deeply, you choose your words carefully.

“We need to talk about everything,” you tell him slowly.

“Okay,” Cheol agrees quickly. “Okay, where do you want to start?”

“Where do you think we should start? I think that’s where we should start.”

Cheol sucks in a breath and pinches his eyebrows together. You can tell that he, just like you, is making sure he doesn’t say anything he’ll regret. “Well, the beginning, I guess,” he sighs, and you open your mouth in protest but he holds his hand out to stop you. “Okay just listen.” “Fine.”

“I found out Yejin liked me in January,” he tells you.

“That was a month before…” your voice trails off and he nods.

“Before we got together and…” And we stopped talking to you. He doesn’t say, doesn’t need to. “Yeah. Chaeyoung told me. Yejin didn’t know I knew until…”

“Until you started liking her,” you mutter under your breath. You furrow your eyebrows and look up at him. “You know I know this, right? Joshua told me when you told him.”

Cheol seems surprised by that. “What, really?” you aren’t sure why he never expected that—you and Joshua are pretty much like siblings, after all.

“Yeah. I think I knew before Yejin,” you admit. Your voice is small, and the way the entire event of six months ago is playing out in your head is a not so nice reminder of why you’re in this situation in the first place.

“Oh.” Silence. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

You frown. “What was I supposed to say? ‘No Cheol! Don’t like Yejin! Like me!’” you say in a mocking tone. “Why would I do that to her? Why would I do that to you?” you were calm a moment ago, but you feel yourself growing upset again.

“I thought you—” Cheol thinks for a moment, wondering if he should say it, “—I thought you liked me.”

“I did,” you seethe out. “But did you think I was going to beg you to change your mind? To change your feelings?” Cheol is quiet now, and you take it as your cue to continue. “I…I cared about you and Yejin so much—” that’s a lie (you still do)—“and you should know that if you guys were happy I would be okay with that.”

“What about your feelings? Why didn’t you do anything about that?” Cheol shoots back, and it’s starting to sound an awful lot like your last conversation with Yejin.

“You claim you love him but you’re just willing to give him up like that? That’s pathetic. You are pathetic.”

You feel tears stream down your cheeks at the memory and you need to remind yourself that it isn’t worth crying over—but then again, it is. “I would’ve dealt with my feelings just as I have been for the past six months—by myself and totally fine.”

Cheol doesn’t have a response to that, because if there’s one thing he won’t even attempt to refute, it’s this. Because after everything, you have been okay. You have been healing. It killed him every time Joshua would tell him you’re doing fine, because he wasn’t doing fine and he was having a really, really hard time accepting that.

He knows it’s unfair, Cheol knows he’s being anything but fair, but he just doesn’t know how to help it.

It’s the worst that you’re crying now—crying ‘cause of him. Because Cheol knows that you were okay and it was him that decided to butt back in your life to try and make amends, and you being you, decided to let him back in and fuck—he knows he’s being selfish by doing all this and he know he doesn’t deserve this yet you are still here, trying to hear him out.

“I fucked up, I don’t deserve a second chance.”

You choke back a sob, “Damn right you don’t,” and Cheol knows that you’re right.

“I’m still going to try.”

You brush some tears away from your face. “I know.”

You go home that night without another word, and Cheol only stops you to make sure you’ve stopped crying before you start the car and drive off. It’s the next day, and you can’t help but glance back and forth between the door and clock as your shift nears its end.

“You waiting for him?” Hyunwoo asks you from the side, and you feel a little bit bad at the way his voice sounds a bit sad.

“Uh—” Are you waiting for Cheol? “—I guess, yeah.” There’s no reason for you to deny it. You’ve replayed last night’s conversation more times than you can count, and you still aren’t sure how to feel. You need to see him.

As the time nears six, an uneasy feeling pools at your stomach, and you wonder what you’ll do if he doesn’t show up. End it for good? Add it to the list of reasons why you should never talk to him again? Block h—

The bell above the door ringing saves you from that rabbit hole. It’s 5:59 and Cheol waits in front of the door and for once, he isn’t donning a smile. Looking at Hyunwoo, you throw out a small wave before slipping to the back room. Hyunwoo doesn’t follow you, he stopped doing that after the first two times Seungcheol started coming, although you aren’t sure why. It’s a passing thought though, definitely not at the forefront of your mind as you hang your apron routinely and exit through the back door.

Cheol waits for you by the door and you don’t say anything as you both leave through the front. The atmosphere is thick and you aren’t sure who is going to say what and when. It’s only when you’ve walked around two minutes down your regular path that Cheol stops in front of that bench. Flickering his eyes towards yours for a moment of confirmation, he sits down and motions you to follow. You sit side by side and once again, you two are almost touching, but aren’t quite there just yet.

“So,” you finally say. “Where were we?”

“That night,” Cheol replies quietly, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. You glance over at him and can’t help but realize how…small he looks. You want to reach out and hold him for a moment, but you shouldn’t.

“What about that night?” you murmur. There’s too much about that night for you to even fathom what he’s thinking about.

“What did Yejin say to you? In the room?” he asks.

“Does that matter?” You seriously don't want to recount it, but then Cheol is nodding and you just have to give in. “She was mad…same reason as you,” you mumble.

“What do you mean?”

“Didn’t like how I was accepting of it all,” you sigh, leaning back. “I think she just got sick of me,” you finally confess. “Didn’t like me anymore, and then she thought I was pathetic or something and used that as an excuse to just—I dunno, drop me.” You pause, turning to look at him again. “What did she tell you?”

You know you probably shouldn’t ask. It’ll be painful, you know, but you’re confident you can handle it.

“She said it couldn’t work…the three of us. That it was either me ‘n’ her or nothing, because nothing could go back to normal after this.”

You look down. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“You believed her?”

“Well, at the time,” Cheol murmurs, “Yeah I did.”

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry.” Trust me, trust me. “I liked that she liked me. I liked her and I thought I was going to lose you either way and—”

“I said okay.”

“Is it okay?”

“I don’t know,” you tell him honestly. “I beat myself up a lot for all that, you know? Wondered what she could’ve said that made you not wanna fight to be my friend.” You scoff to yourself. “I guess we both suck at that.”

“Huh?”

“You know: fighting for what we want,” you clarify.

“That can change,” Cheol says, clearing his throat. “I’m fighting right now.”

That conversation is the first of many. One month later and Cheol is still fighting. It’s your birthday, and you aren’t surprised that he remembers, but you are surprised when he gets you a gift. A new apron. “Your old one is getting…well, old.”

You’re both sitting at the bench once again, and for the first time, your thighs brush against each other’s fully. It’s warm, it’s welcoming, it’s soft. Maybe you and Cheol haven’t finished crossing the bridge yet, but you’ve definitely finished building it. There’s time for the rest later. You want to focus on you and him now.

“I wonder why,” you say sarcastically, taking it out of the bag. “It’s cute—hey, is this my name?” you ask excitedly, holding up the little spot on the top with some letter embroidered in.

“Uh, yeah, it’s custom and all…I got Minghao to help me with the design.” You smile genuinely, turning to him.

“Thank you, I love it.”

“Thank god. Jeonghan said it was a stupid gift but I thought it was thoughtful…”

“Jeonghan once got you a rubber duck for your birthday, so I would take everything he says about gift-giving with a big fat grain of salt.”

“Hey, I still have that duck,” he tells you, and you both laugh together. “It’s in the bathroom, I only take it down for special occasions.”

“Special occasions being…?”

Cheol taps his chin. “Hmm…birthdays, the last day of school, Christmas…I’d like to think my luck is pretty great whenever I use it.”

“Is that so…” you hum. “When was the last time you used it?”

“Like two days ago.”

“Nothing special happened two days ago.” That’s a lie, and he sees right through it.

Cheol smiles smugly. “I know. It was just right before I came to see you.” Your cheeks burn as you turn away.

Two days ago being the last time you and him talked about all of it. From beginning to end, just like you had so many times before except for the first time, you were finally able to utter the words, “it’s okay, we’re okay.”

“Right…maybe luck really was on your side then,” you tease.

“Whatever,” Cheol says with a pout, watching you glance at your phone. “Do you need to go? I thought you didn’t have anything planned?”

“I don’t,” you say with a huff. “I just saw that my birthday gift from my parents got delivered. It’s fine, I’ll pick it up when I get home later.” You ponder whether this is the right moment to bring it up. “You can… come along if you want.”

It’s almost as if his ears perk up. “To your place?”

“Um, yeah,” you try to come off as casual. “Only if you want,” you add quickly, and he picks up on the double meaning right away.

Which is how you end up here.

“Haven’t been here in so long,” Cheol murmurs, looking over your apartment. It’s the exact same, save for some pictures with Yejin and him that have since been taken down. He would have been upset about it a month ago, but now he is content. It only makes it a goal for him to take more pictures with you now so you’ll have some to put up.

“Mhm,” you nod, putting your bag down on your kitchen counter.

“Hey…” he says softly as you flick on one light. It’s dim, but there’s just enough light for you to see the worried look on his face.

“Everything alright?”

He chews on his lips and he looks pretty. “I need to know where your head is at right now,” he admits. There’s a lot of different meanings to what he’s just asked, but with the way he’s looking at you, you have a pretty good idea of what he’s trying to say. “I don’t want to misread anything like the last time I—the last time.” The last time he kissed you.

You look down at the counter. You brought him here for a reason, but are you ready?

Trust me, trust me.

Of course you are. With Cheol, you’ll always be ready.

So when he’s pushing you up against the wall, hands grappling at your waist, feeling his warm, wet lips against you, you don’t waste a single second thinking about anyone else. You don’t think about what Joshua will say, you don’t think about how Jeongyeon will react, you don’t think about the look on Yejin’s face if she were to ever find out about this because right now, it’s Cheol that’s in front of you, and it’s Cheol that will always be in front of you.

One leg around his torso, your mouth smashes against his in a tangled mess of tongue and lip and it’s desperate and has you aching for more. And then he’s leading you to your bedroom and you are reminded of the fact that Cheol knows this place so well that he doesn’t even need to ask for directions.

Throwing you onto the bed your mind goes blank—it’s as if all the happiness in the world rushes to you at once, leaving you all light-headed and disoriented when Cheol clambers on top of you, his thigh wedged between your legs.

With his fingers pressed deeply into your hips as he runs his tongue along your jawline,rocking  your clothed cunt against Cheol’s bare thigh, his gym shorts hiked up so that you can press your core as close to him as possible. Your breath is slightly labored as his lips press open mouthed kisses all the way down, and you feel yourself become increasingly needy at the way you can see the imprint of his cock against his shorts.

“Shit—you’re so—wait,” he murmurs, pulling his lips away from your burning skin to bore his eyes down at you. “Is this okay?” he asks softly, pulling his knee back so there’s some space between you and him. Cheol doesn’t expect for your eyes to widen, hand shooting out and grabbing his thigh to make sure it doesn’t move another inch.

“Yes,” you gasp out, pulling his leg so hard that he stumbles forward a bit when you do, the hard muscle pressing back against your core. Cheol lets the initial shock of you being needy for him settle in, and suddenly he’s grinning and having one hand back at your waist, the other at your neck so he can tilt your head up and have better access to skin over your collarbone.

His fingers are rough and calloused as they slip beneath your shirt, pushing it up just far enough that your bra is exposed. Hovering above you, you watch through hazy vision as Cheol’s eyes dilate at the sight, swooping his head down to free one of your tits from the cup and catching a nipple in his mouth.

Your body jerks against his as he swipes a tongue over the hardened peak, and suddenly you feel that there’s too much fabric between you and his thigh. “Ch-cheol,” you mutter, tapping at his head that is currently burning beneath your shirt while he sneaks kisses all up and down your stomach, between your tits, and over your cleavage.

“What is it, baby?” he coos, pulling his head out and looking up at you, the pet name shooting shivers up our spine.

“Pants—ah—” you whine when he presses his thigh harder into you. “Pants!” you cry, trying your best to unbutton them with shaky fingers. Cheol picks up right away, helping you unzip them before hooking two fingers on the waistband and yanking the fabric down and over your feet, freeing yourself and your pussy of its unbearable restraints.

“Fuck, this is—you’re so hot,” he murmurs, looking down at your bare legs and tracing his fingers from your ankles to your knees, and then finally through your inner thighs where he bends down and starts to place rough kisses.

Usually, if he was in his right mind, Cheol would have wanted to take his sweet time with you, unraveling, unwinding all of you. But he’s figured that both of you have waited long enough and that you both deserve to be needy, to be desperate, to let this moment pass as quickly as it started because there will be plenty of time for a round two and three later on.

All you need right now is to feel each other, which is how he ends up pushing your panties to the side and digging his tongue into your dripping folds without warning. “Cheol!” you moan loudly, your hand gripping his hair tightly while he simultaneously wraps one arm over your hips, pulling you closer.

Seungcheol is going crazy, he thinks, because the taste of your pussy is better than any alcohol he’s ever drunk. You’re sweet and your cunt is literally fluttering its pretty fuck folds all for him as he slides one finger through them to collect your growing wetness. He feels himself growing high on the feeling and taste alone, his own hips pressing into the mattress in hopes of relieving some of the tension in his own pants.

There’s a slobbering mess that runs down his lips and chin as he fervently makes out with your pussy, and you briefly wonder how a man can be so good at making you feel this good before the thought is swept from your mind by one of Cheol’s thick fingers prodding at your entrance.

Holy hell, you’re so tight for him—gummy walls clamping down on his single digit the second he started to move it in and out’ta you, his mind racing as he thinks about how you might feel around his cock. And Cheol isn’t the only one thinking about it either, because when he’s slipping in another finger, you’re already crying out for more.

“I gotta work you up to it baby,” he tells you sympathetically, using one free hand to shove down his pants leaving him in only a shirt and boxers.

“Don’t wanna wait…” you protest with a pout, eyes shamelessly looking down at his figure hunched over you so you can catch sight of the imprint of his cock against his boxers.

Cheol chuckles, even though he’s on the brink of giving in himself. “Take your shirt off for me, yeah? It’ll save us some time.” That’s all you need to hear before you’re sitting up and yanking the stupidly tight shirt over your head and throwing it to the side as Cheol’s fingers continue their onslaught deep inside your cunt.

It’s less of an in and out motion now, and more of a curling motion that’s exploring you, finding out what makes you hum, what makes you moan, and what makes you go—“Oh fuck, Cheol!” He grins at the sound, leaning down to press a kiss on your clit as he pulls his slick fingers away.

“You wanted more?” he murmurs, slipping his own shirt over his head to reveal the familiar set of abs and toned chest. You let out a dazed smile at the sight, letting your body fall back onto the mattress.

“‘course I do,” you reply without hesitation, watching eagerly as his hand holds the waistband of his boxers and pushes the cloth down, revealing his cock all thick and hard as it springs out and hits his abdomen.

It’s long and it’s thick, and it’s nothing less than what you expected from Cheol, in fact, it’s a lot more than that. But you don’t even have time to think about how pretty his cock looks, pink tip all flushed as a thick vein runs down the side of its length, because it’s pushing against your entrance as he watches your face carefully.

When your eyebrows knit into a convulsion of pleasure and you squeak out his full name, he knows he can't hold back, slamming into your drooling cunt in one go.

And his cock is so big it’s pushing you open, but the pain is so good, so enthralling, that you don’t even mind being split in half if it’s like this—if it’s because every time he pulls his hips back, you know he’ll slam it deeper and deeper every single time, hitting spots deep inside of your cunt that you didn’t even know existed.

All while your limbs are flailing around him, thrashing as you bite into his shoulder, muffling your cries of, “Cheol, Cheol, Cheol!”

Your name falls from his lips too, mixed in with the mindless words of, beautiful, pretty, princess as he compliments you for takin’ him so well and squeezin’ him so good he doesn't know how he hasn’t bust already.

“God, fuck,” he moans when you look up at him through heavy lashes, tethering his boto m lip between his teeth to try and slow his impending orgasm. “Fuck,” he chokes out, “shit—I love you—”

And there is your breaking point. Like the world has come to a stop and there is only you and Cheol and this moment and—god, you really are too far gone now—and him and you is all that matters.

You cum like you never have before, his cock battering your cunt ‘til you’re shaking and crying and yelling out his name as you feel nothing but him, think nothing but him, know nothing but him.

This is the moment you’ve both been waiting for, and as soon as Cheol has noticed your slower breaths he’s pulling out and letting you wrap one hand around his fat cock to help jerk himself off. He’s so close—so fucking close—and then you’re whispering those fated words—those three words—he feels everything in him just snap, hot cum shooting all over your swollen, abused cunt, and Cheol feels his heart swell.

Love.

There’s a lot more you need to work on, you both know that, but it’s okay.

Trust me, trust me.

I love you.

a/n. literally wrote the last part half asleep and i hate the ending but... okay wow … i had a tough time writing this because i really wanted it to be taken slow and i’m not really sure how well it went … also this story might have been a bit a lot of a reflection of a friendship that went wrong in my own life LOL so this might be me playing out how i wish things ended up :/so anyways please sharing ur thoughts and like and reblog!

[hazelsmirrorball]

Roses | Oscar Piastri

SUMMARY: After Rumors go around that Oscar was a ghost boyfriend he decides to show up for his ex girlfriend most important night FACE CLAIM: Lola Tung pairings: Actress! Reader x Oscar Piastri

via twitter!

yn via insta stories! oscarpiastri via insta stories

posted five minutes ago deleted five minutes ago

yn via instagram

liked by ybffs_instagram, olivia.rodrigo, landonorris and 1,230,340 others

yourusername Life recently ever since I decided to be happy

tagged: ybffs_instagram, davidiancono

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user101 the shade? mother leaves for six months and comes back in her reputation era. Love that for her.

user10 I feel that lando liking this post means so much more than just a like

user151 Y/n doesn't follow Oscar anymore. Help.

davidiancono TEAM CAM CAMERON

ybffs_instagram girl finally ur back

olivia.rodrigo I missed you so so much.

user590 I'm sorry but this being post not even after an hour of Oscar deleted story makes me go insane.

user191 they are not broken up! Talk to the hand

y/nandoscarupdates via instagram.

liked by by ybffs_instagram,user178 and 1,000 more.

y/nandoscarupdates a close source to the couple informed us that Oscar Piastri and Y/n L/n have called it quits. They've been broken up for around two months now. Sources say that Oscar and Y/n couldn't make time to see each other due to their busy schedules.

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user10 is the close source y/bff/n? because I think she just e3xposed herself by liking this post

user15 im sorry but didn't y-n go to every single race Oscar had last season? I never once saw Oscar showing up to her things.

user192 I think you guys are siding with Oscar because my girl was always alone in premiers while Oscar always had her by his side.

y/nupdates just posted

liked by user101, user15, oscarpiastri and 178,000 others.

y/nupdates what we are not going to do is hate on this poor girl. I'm sorry but I don't think that updates account is correct. Y/n was noting but supportive in the relationship, I truly believe she went to everything she could. Oscar on the other hand....when did we see him in one of her events? Im sorry but the support wasn't mutual.

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user13 touch some grass. you are acting as if you were also in the relationship.

user16 Oscar liked? what does this even mean?

user98 what does this add to their lore

yn via instagram

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yourusername Opening night for Hadestown! Forever grateful of giving Eurydice life.

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user134 Oscar liking this? guys I need peace

user126 omg! im so so proud of you

user928 our girl is taking broadway by storm

oscarpiastri as they say in theater break a leg

landonorris what is Oscar doing here?

user119 lando wants to start drama

...

Y/n paced back and forth in her dressing room, her nerves taking up her complete body. It was her first show in broadway. She knew they were going to be critics watching her every move. It was different from anything she had ever done before. Yes, she had acted and she did musical theater when she was in highschool but this was something completely different. This wasn’t a school production, this was an actual professional thing that could affect her career. She stopped in front of her dressing room mirror forcing a smile. It was her opening night and sadly none of her close friends were able to show up, different countries or schedules made it hard for them to show up, which she completely understood. But maybe a familiar face in the crowd could ease her nerves. A soft knock on the door stopped her train of thought. She quickly turned her head toward the door watching the assistant manager peak her head through. 

“Hi Y/n! Sorry for interrupting, You have a visitor that wanted to see you before the show started. Since you didn’t specifically put anyone in your visitor list, I wanted to see if it was okay.” She said quickly, knowing her duties she had a lot of things on her plate and the thing she least needed to worry about was about her visitors. Y/n quickly shook her head, not even asking who the “surprise visitor" was to cut their conversation short. She quickly left and a few seconds later a familiar face smiled shyly your way. Your eyes wandered over his body failing on the red flowers he was gripping tightly. 

“Oscar, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in Australia?” She asked furrowing her eyebrows confused as she didn’t want to get closer to him afraid that he was an act of her imagination. 

“I couldn’t miss your special day, Y/n. I know we aren’t together anymore but you were always by my side in my important days. Even my less important ones. I wanted to support you, I know how important this is for you. So I wanted to see you on your first ever broadway show but if you want, I can leave.” Oscar replied while extending the flowers as you pulled him closely into a bone crushing hug.

yn via insta stories! oscarpiastri via insta stories

[chelseachilly]

tired of loving from afar

pairing: mason mount x reader warnings: none, mostly fluff with a tiny bit of angst! word count: 5.3k

a/n: not me writing for someone other than ben lmao?? been really in my mase feels lately so here's a fluffy little long distance relationship fic (also was very happy to read this morning that he's likely going to be back after the international break! my heart has been hurting for him this season 🥺) have a great weekend loves 💓

-

Of the three years you’ve been with Mason, the past six months have been the hardest by far. 

You’d overcome other hurdles in your relationship, like adjusting to the exposure and demanding schedule of a professional footballer, learning to cope with your life being somewhat public and thousands of girls being in love with your boyfriend. None of this was nearly as challenging as having to adjust to him living 200 miles away from you. 

His move to Manchester was bittersweet - you were so proud of him for getting a spot at such a massive club and finally receiving the appreciation and recognition he deserves. You knew he was happy to have a fresh start and a chance to prove himself as a player. 

At the same time, it was incredibly emotional for him to leave his boyhood club, his friends, his family, and you all at the same time. You would’ve given anything to go with him, even if it meant leaving your own friends and family in London, but you were about to start your final year of uni there. You couldn’t just pack up and go, no matter how much you wanted to do so.

You’re passionate about your studies, and you knew it would all be worth it when you graduate and get a job in your chosen field - and in the same city as the man you love. You knew it was only a year.

That didn’t make it any easier to say goodbye.

You’ve both made a massive effort to see each other as much as humanly possible, going up to Manchester every time you have a break from classes or a weekend without an exam or assignment due. Mason has also come back to London any time he gets the chance, sometimes flying out just to see you for the day. You’ve been making it work, but it’s not nearly the same as living in the same house as him. Even when you were both super busy, you at least got to see each other when you woke up and before bed, and now all you have are texts and FaceTime calls. 

On a night like tonight, when you’re exhausted from the week and you just want to be wrapped in his arms watching a film, FaceTime really feels like a poor replacement for the real thing. 

“Hi, gorgeous,” Mason says, a sleepy smile on his face as he answers your call. “How was your day?”

“Hey, Mase,” you say, curling up with a blanket and admiring his face in the soft glow of his bedroom lamp. Judging by the fact that he’s in bed by quarter to nine, you figure he’s as worn out as you are. “It was okay, felt long. I finally turned in my essay, though.”

“Good work, babe, I’m sure you aced it like always.” 

You blush a little, never growing tired of how he takes every opportunity to praise your intelligence. Any time someone asks about your studies, he does a full spiel about how smart you are.

“We’ll see,” you say. “How was your day, love? Any updates at physio?”

The way his smile instantly fades makes your heart drop to your stomach, fearing the worst.

“Yeah, um-it’s looking like a bit longer,” Mason says, and you can tell he’s trying to keep his voice steady so you don’t worry too much. “Maybe another few weeks. They’re not sure.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” you sigh. “I’m sorry. I know how frustrating this is.”

The hardest part about being away from Mason has unquestionably been watching him struggle from afar without being able to properly support him. From the rocky start to the season, to being out due to injuries basically ever since, it’s been torture not being there for him. 

You went up straight away when he first injured his calf in November, needing to both emotionally and physically care for him, but you couldn’t stay long before your exams started. Since then, you’ve done your best to help from London - sending him care packages, calling him as much as your schedule allows, asking Luke and Anouska to keep an eye on him and let you know how he’s holding up. 

In moments like these, though, what you really need is to hug him and tell him everything is going to be alright. 

“Yeah, it’s a bit tough,” Mason admits, fiddling with his hoodie string. “But at least I’m back in partial training, it could be worse. I could’ve done my ACL or something, you know? I’ve been pretty lucky in my career so far.”

One of the many things you love about him is his infectious optimism, how he always sees the best in situations and in people. 

Right now, though, you’re not sure you fully believe the words leaving his mouth. He looks so disheartened and downtrodden. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you ask, frowning. “I know it’s not the news you’re expecting, you’re allowed to be disappointed.”

“I’ll be fine, angel, don’t worry about me,” Mason reassures you. “Just missing you a little extra today.” 

“Me too,” you murmur, touching the screen and wishing it were his face. “I’m sorry I can’t make it up this weekend, but this group assignment-“

“Don’t apologize, baby, I know how busy you are this term,” Mason cuts you off, just as he always does when you try to apologize for being so far away. 

You do the same to him when he tries to say he’s sorry for uprooting your life together, for not being there when you’re stressed about school or just having a bad day. Truthfully, neither of you are at fault, it’s just life. But it still sucks sometimes. 

“We’ll see each other in a few weeks when I have my reading break,” you remind him. “Just a while longer.”

“I know, I’m counting down the minutes,” Mason smiles. 

You talk for a little while longer before you reluctantly have to go so you can get ready for bed, and you promise to call him again tomorrow night. 

The sad look on his face when you say goodnight lingers in your mind as you shower and do your skincare routine, and by the time you climb into bed, you’ve made a decision.

First, you message your group for the assignment you’re working on and ask if you can push your planned meeting to Monday rather than Saturday. Next, you text Luke and ask him to make sure Mason doesn’t have plans tomorrow night.

Lastly, you book a train to Manchester, because you’ll be damned if you don’t go cheer up your man when he needs you.

-

The moment you arrive at the train station in Manchester the next day, you hop in an Uber and make your way straight to Mason’s.

You know that he’s still at training and will be for at least another hour or so, as you’ve been texting Luke for updates so Mason doesn’t get suspicious. It’s not unusual for you to ask how his day is going, but you don’t typically ask for the exact time he plans on leaving Carrington or instruct him to go straight home after training.

Using the key that Mason gave you when he moved in, insisting that it was still your home even if you don’t live there the majority of the time, you let yourself into his house.

You drop your bags and immediately get to work on creating the perfect cozy, romantic Friday night in.

By the time you get the text from Luke that he’s on his way back with Mason, having devised a fake plan of coming over to play FIFA after training to ensure Mason didn’t make other plans, you’re just finishing up.

You’ve successfully transformed his house, which he bought furnished and has put very little effort into making homey, into a much more welcoming environment. 

You ordered flowers for the kitchen table, as well as enough groceries to make dinner for him tonight and to replenish his far too empty fridge. You did a bit of tidying, deciding to do a few loads of laundry for him when you noticed there was quite a pile forming, and it must have been a week or so since the cleaning service he pays for came. 

You put some soft music on his speakers and lit a few candles in the kitchen as well, popping a bottle of white wine into the fridge so it’s ready for your dinner. 

You’ve just started chopping a few veggies to get a head start on dinner when you hear the sound of the front door opening followed by distant voices, one of which you immediately recognize as Mason.

“Do you hear that music?” 

The sound of your boyfriend’s voice after weeks apart fills your stomach with butterflies - you’re just as giddy to see him as you were in your early days of dating. 

“Probably the neighbours, mate,” Luke responds, still playing along with your ruse. 

“I don’t think-“

Finally, the guys turn the corner into the kitchen, and you see Mason come into view with Luke trailing behind him. His eyes widen in surprise for a moment, slightly startled by there being someone in his house, and then he realizes it’s you and his mouth falls open in shock.

“Surprise,” you say shyly, while Mason is still at a loss for words. 

He immediately drops his training bag to the floor and makes a beeline for you, pulling you into a tight hug and lifting you off your feet before you can even hug him back properly. 

You relax into his arms right away, squeezing him just as tightly as he’s squeezing you and breathing in the familiar scent of his soap and aftershave, freshly showered after training. It’s the same scent that lingers on the t-shirts and hoodies that you steal from him every time you come up, wearing them until you regrettably have to put them through the wash. 

“Baby,” Mason mumbles into your neck, pressing little kisses there. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I’m here,” you confirm, wrapping your legs around his waist as he refuses to set you down or let you go. “I missed you way too much to wait another three weeks.”

He pulls back far enough to capture your lips in a sweet kiss, his hands sliding down to your thighs to support your weight as you kiss him back. You can feel the pieces of your world shifting back into place, your heart settling in your chest as you sink into his warmth.

Mason presses a few more quick pecks to your lips before reluctantly setting you down, arms still wrapped around you. It’s only then that you realize Luke is still here, shuffling awkwardly in the corner. 

“Thanks for your help, Luke,” you say with a shy smile, moving to Mason’s side. 

“Of course, the man never shuts up about how much he misses you, so it’s really a favour for me as well,” Luke jokes. “I’ll leave you guys. Enjoy your evening.”

“Thanks, mate,” Mason says with an eye roll and a grin before turning his attention back to you, pressing kisses to your head. 

“Night, Luke! Give my love to Anouska and the kids,” you call out, though you’ve also turned back to face Mason and bury your face in his chest. 

You remain in each other’s arms, just holding one another and breathing in and out for a minute or two. 

You knew you missed him, but you don’t think you realized quite how much until right now. It’s taken such a toll on both of you being apart for so long.

“How long are you staying?” Mason asks quietly, almost like he’s afraid of the answer, as he lightly rubs your lower back. 

“Until Monday morning,” you say. You wish it were longer, but three nights together is the best you’ve gotten in a long time. 

“Really?” Mason asks, pulling back and looking at you with bright eyes. “I thought you had to do your group assignment tomorrow?” 

“I pushed it to Monday, I had to come see you after we spoke last night.”

You reach up to cup Mason’s face with one hand, gently stroking his cheek with your thumb. Judging by the way he’s avoiding eye contact with you, you know you were right to come. He’s obviously been struggling with the disappointment of the never-ending injuries, all the uncertainty it’s brought. 

“I’m okay,” he says softly, turning his face to press a kiss to your palm. “Now that you’re here, everything’s okay.”

You melt at his gentle words, but they don’t do much to ease your worries about his emotional wellbeing. 

Mason gives you a quick peck on the forehead before looking around the room, noticing the food you’re preparing and the cozy, romantic vibe you created for your evening. 

“What’s all this?” he asks, a small smile on his face. 

You’re not keen to drop the subject, but you don’t want to ruin your rare weekend together by bombarding him with questions either. You know he’ll talk about it when he’s ready. 

“I just ordered some food for dinner and restocked your fridge a bit,” you explain. “I figured you would be happy to stay in tonight, so I got stuff to make your favourite pasta.”

Before he can respond, the dryer beeps, signalling that the load is done. He raises an eyebrow at you.

“Are you doing laundry?”

“I just threw a couple loads of your clothes in, I noticed you were running behind,” you shrug. 

Mason looks at you with complete awe, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” he says softly. “You being here is enough. It’s more than enough.”

You smile, wrapping your arms around his neck once more. 

“I know, but I wanted tonight to be perfect and relaxing,” you explain, pecking his lips. “No stressing about football or school or anything else. Just you and me.”

“You’re amazing, Y/N,” Mason sighs, squeezing your waist. “Can I help you cook?”

“No, but you can pour us both a glass of wine from the bottle in the fridge and sit down and tell me about your day,” you smile, kissing him one more time before pulling away to return to your meal preparations. 

Mason does as told, sneaking another few kisses when he brings you over your glass, then sitting at one of the stools at the kitchen island.

You treasure this domesticity more than almost anything with him - the simple act of chatting about your days while making dinner is something you’ve missed terribly.

When the pasta is ready, you dish it out into two bowls and bring them over to the table. 

“God, I missed your cooking,” Mason grins as he dives into his portion, obviously starving after a day of training. “It’s delicious, babe.”

“Thanks, Mase,” you reply, pouring yourself a little bit more wine. “You want some more?”

“Might as well, it’s not like I’m playing tomorrow,” Mason says, the offhand comment hurting your heart much more than he intended. 

He’s still smiling at you as you pour his drink, but you don’t believe for a second that it’s real. 

“Do you want to go tomorrow?” you ask after a minute of silence while you both eat. “I know you usually go to the home games, right?”

Mason shrugs. “Yeah, we can if you want.”

Once again, you don’t press him further, listening as he changes the subject and starts updating you on Ben’s latest girl troubles. 

After you’ve finished and cleaned up, you head into the living room to catch up on the new episodes of Drive to Survive. You always save your favourite shows for when you’re together, sometimes dodging spoilers for weeks just so you can enjoy it properly with Mason.

The moment you sit down on the couch, Mason pulls you into his arms for the first real cuddle you’ve had in weeks. You very contently lean into him, resting your head on his chest and humming in delight as Mason slides his hand under your hoodie and begins to gently stroke your lower back. It’s not with the intention of anything sexual, though you’re sure that will come later, it’s just an innate need to be as close to you as possible. 

It’s the most relaxed you’ve felt since he left your flat in London three weeks ago, your body and mind decompressing with every moment spent in his arms. 

A few hours pass, and you can feel yourself growing tired, but you’re enjoying Mason’s commentary on the Alpine rivalry far too much to interrupt and suggest you go to bed. Your yawns are betraying you, though, and Mason begins to gently run his hand through your hair.

“You ready for bed, sweetheart?” he asks softly, kissing your forehead. 

“It’s so early,” you murmur as you glance at the time on your phone, barely past 9PM, yet you can’t contain another small yawn which makes Mason chuckle. “Sorry, I guess I’m tired out from the week.”

“No worries, we have the whole weekend,” Mason smiles. “Honestly, I’m a bit worn out too. Wanna go upstairs and I’ll get us some water?”

You nod as he stands and helps you to your feet, pressing one more gentle kiss to your forehead before heading into the kitchen. You make your way up the stairs to his bedroom and head into his ensuite bathroom. 

It occurs to you as you’re flicking the light on that you forgot to grab your toiletry bag from your suitcase in his room, and you’re just about to turn back for it when something catches your eye. On one of the shelves above the toilet, there’s an array of products that wasn’t here last time you visited. More specifically, there’s a version of just about every hair and skincare product you use on a regular basis, and you really doubt that Mason has taken up doing hair treatments or using Drunk Elephant serums.

Maybe it shouldn’t mean as much to you as it does - he’s always been thoughtful, and you know the expense of buying all this is nothing to him - but for some reason, the simple gesture nearly brings you to tears. 

Mason appears in the doorway a moment later, smiling softly at you.

“You okay, love?” 

“When did you buy all this stuff?” you ask, gesturing to the shelf. 

“Oh, uh, a couple days after the last time I came to London,” Mason says casually. “I took pictures of everything in your bathroom to make sure I got the right stuff, I just wanted to make it easier for you when you visit.”

As you look into his soft, sincere gaze, your love for him feels more overwhelming than ever. 

Which means your guilt does, too. 

“Mase, I’m so sorry I haven’t been up to visit more lately,” you say, your voice unsteady. “I know you’ve been struggling, and I know you’ve been keeping a lot of it from me because I’m busy with uni, but you’re my priority and I should’ve-“

“Hey,” Mason says gently, interrupting you with a hand reaching up to cup your cheek. “Don’t ever apologize for focusing on your studies. I know how hard you’ve been working, and I’m so proud of you. You don’t need to worry about me, I’m gonna be fine.”

“It’s not fine,” you shake your head, tears now streaming down your face. “You’ve always been there for me, and now you’re in a new city and a new club and you’ve been dealing with injuries and I’m all the way across the country.”

“Y/N, we knew this would be hard, and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t,” Mason says, wiping your tears away with his thumbs. “But it’s not your fault I moved clubs while you still had a degree to finish, or that I’ve had a tough season. Some things are out of our control.”

You know he’s right, but it doesn’t make it any easier. Hearing his sad, defeated voice on the phone after a disappointing medical assessment or bad game and not being able to hold him has been one of the hardest things you’ve ever done.

“I just worry about you being here all alone,” you say quietly. “I know you have your teammates and you spend a lot of time with Luke, but in London you had me and all your friends and your family was closer and - I just hate that I’m not with you.”

“You’re here right now,” Mason says, pressing his forehead to yours for a moment. “You dropped everything to come see me today, babe. You have no idea how much that meant.”

“I would do it every weekend if I could.”

“I know,” he says with a sad smile. “And I would leave all of this and spend my time helping you study and supporting you if I could, but this is our reality for a little while longer, angel.”

You sigh, nodding in agreement and staring into his big brown eyes that bring you so much comfort. 

“I’ve just missed you so much,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a tight hug. 

His own arms circle your waist and tug you impossibly closer, his nose buried in your hair so he can breathe you in.

“I know, baby, I’ve missed you too,” he exhales. “So, so much.”

You hold him for a while longer, cherishing every brush of his hand against your back and every kiss he presses to your temple. You want to memorize the feeling of his touch, so when you’re back in your bed in London a few days from now you can close your eyes and try to imagine you’re still in his arms.

After a few minutes, you break apart to finish preparing for bed. You brush your teeth together then go through your skincare routine while Mason watches fondly, letting you put some moisturizer on him when you’re done with it. Then he strips down to just his boxers, teasing you lovingly when you obviously check him out, and passes you a comfy t-shirt from his drawer to change into. You make a mental note to fill up your suitcase with a few of his hoodies before you leave - the ones you have at home no longer smell like him. 

You climb into the bed together, noticing that the side you usually sleep on has all of its pillows in place and that the nightstand is almost empty except for the glass of water he set down for you. Like he’s still been leaving that space for you even when you’re not there to fill it. 

“C’mere,” Mason says immediately, tugging you into his chest. 

You relax against him, laying your head over his heartbeat and tracing his tattoos with your finger.

“Will you tell me how you’ve really been feeling lately?” you ask in a gentle voice. He immediately tenses, and you know he still doesn’t want to discuss it, but you’re not leaving Manchester without talking to him about this. “I saw the look on your face when I asked about the game tomorrow, babe. Please just talk to me.” 

“I don’t want to burden you with all this,” Mason says, refusing to meet your gaze. “I know how busy you are-“

“I told you, you’re my priority, Mase,” you insist. “And it’s actually more concerning when I don’t know what’s going on with you. If you talk to me, then maybe I can help.”

Mason sighs and moves into a more upright position, still holding your hand and playing with your fingers as a way of grounding himself as he gathers his thoughts. 

“I just never thought it would be like this, you know?” he mutters. “I thought that coming here would solve everything I was going through at Chelsea, but in a lot of ways it’s been even harder.”

You nod for him to continue, gently squeezing his hand.

“I thought when all the contract stuff was resolved and I was at a new club everything would be fine, but then it’s just been constant injuries and trying to adjust to a whole new life without actually being able to do the thing I love most,” he goes on, making your heart splinter even more. “Fifty-five million pounds and I don’t have a single goal to show for it.”

“You can’t help that you’ve been injured, baby,” you say softly, though you know he already knows that. “If you were in top form, you’d be scoring goals all over the place. I know it.”

He smiles slightly, always grateful for your neverending confidence in him. You’ve been his biggest fan from the moment you met, cheering him on through every high and low of his career. 

“Maybe, but I haven’t had the chance to try,” he mutters. “I’m just stuck here, being useless to the club and hours away from you. I basically upended our lives just to end up not playing for months.”

“Mase, if I’m not allowed to feel guilty for us being apart, neither are you,” you say firmly. “Coming to United was the right decision. It may not feel like it now, but I promise it will in the long run. And if not, we’ll find a new place for you to show everyone how amazing of a footballer you are. Even if it’s in a different city or another country, we’ll figure it out.”

“Babe, I feel bad enough that you’re moving away from London to be here next year, I’m not gonna ask you to move again,” Mason says, still fiddling with your fingers. “I have to make it work here.”

“And I’m sure you will as soon as you’re better,” you tell him, bringing your joined hands to your lips. “But if it ends up not being a good fit, I will happily follow you anywhere you want to go.”

“Even the States?” Mason jokes, making you roll your eyes and poke him the ribs. “It would be cool to play with Messi.”

“You are not going to the MLS any time soon,” you reprimand him. “But yes, I would go to Florida for you, babe. That is how much I love you.”

Mason laughs, moving your joined hands so it’s his turn to lay kisses on your knuckles.

“Wouldn’t be so bad. The weather’s good, and we could hang out with the Beckhams,” he says, smiling against your skin. “We could take our kids to the beach-“

“Oh, our kids, huh?” you remark, raising an eyebrow. 

“Well, by the time I’m actually ready to play in the MLS…” 

“Alright, we’ll move to Florida with our hypothetical children in ten years,” you say decisively. “Then you can retire and stay home with them while I work.”

“I could take them to Disney World every day,” Mason sighs happily. “Oh, and the Harry Potter thing! Our kids would love that.” 

As much as you’re both joking, the thought of a time in the future when you’re settled with a family and not having to deal with all the separation and uncertainty makes your heart feel warm and fuzzy. You can’t wait to have a family with him someday. 

“In all seriousness, babe, you’ve already accomplished so much in your career and I know you’re going to do so many more amazing things,” you tell him, reaching out to cup his cheek. “And even more importantly, you are such an incredible person off the pitch.“

Mason blushes, leaning into your palm and holding it to his face so you don’t withdraw your touch. You know he struggles to take compliments sometimes, but you also know that this is something he needs to hear. 

“Which is why I refuse to listen to you call yourself useless when you do so much for your family, the community, for me - you make everything better, Mase,” you say softly. “That’s why are so loved. It’s why I fell in love with you, not because of your job.”

He takes a moment to soak up what you’re saying, still holding your hand to his face and pressing a few kisses to your palm. 

“You mean you’re not in it for the money?” he says after a minute, eliciting an eye roll from you. 

“It’s mostly for the money, but the abs don’t hurt either,” you tease, poking his stomach and making him laugh out loud for the first time in as long as you can remember. 

Mason pulls you into his arms again, leaning back and tucking you into his chest so your nose is pressed to his neck. You give him another tight squeeze, unable to get enough of his cuddles.

“Thank you so much, baby,” he mumbles into your hair as he slowly rubs his hand over your back. “For coming and for making me talk about this stuff. You always know exactly what I need.”

“Of course, my love,” you murmur. “Just promise me you’ll keep talking to me, okay? I don’t care how busy I am, I want to know what’s going on with you.”

“I promise,” Mason swears, squeezing your hand that rests over his heart. “And the same goes for you. I know how stressful this term has been, but I’m always here even if I can’t physically be there to help.”

“I know you are,” you smile. “And I know you’re the reason Ben or Woody brought me dinner or care packages before every midterm. They wouldn’t admit it, but I suspected they were under orders to check in on me.”

Mason chuckles. “Yeah, well, gotta send in the subs when I can’t do it myself.”

You hug him even tighter, throwing a leg over his and letting him shift you back into a more comfortable position for sleep. You’re yawning again, the exhaustion finally catching up to you now that the worry gnawing at your mind over Mason has been relieved.

“So, for tomorrow,” you say, your voice lower now that you’re both getting sleepy. “I think we should go to the game with Luke and Anouska, she already texted me and asked us to come over for dinner afterward. That way you and Luke can show your faces at Old Trafford and we can spend some time with them and the kids. Then, you and I can come back home and have a bit of a romantic night in.”

Mason doesn’t respond right away, and you give him a moment before you look up at him to see if something’s wrong. But when you do, you see only an adoring gaze and gentle smile on his face.

“Is that plan good with you?” you ask, “we don’t have to do any of it, I just thought-“

“No, no, it sounds perfect,” Mason cuts you off. “You’re perfect. I was just thinking about how much I love you.”

Your heart melts even more for him, if that’s possible, and you can’t resist leaning in to press another lingering kiss to his lips.

“I love you too,” you say, pressing a few more kisses to his cheeks and nose for good measure. “Now, let’s get a good night’s sleep so I can show you how much I love you in the morning, yeah?”

Mason nods with childlike enthusiasm, making you giggle again as you lay your head back on his chest. 

You can’t wait for the time to come that all of your nights end like this, curled up next to the love of your life, but for now, you’re grateful for this one.

No matter how many miles are between you, your heart is always gonna be wherever Mason is. He’s your home, whether you’re on opposite ends of the globe or in the same bed. 

You sleep better than you have in months.

please leave me a comment if you enjoyed this or send me an ask just to chat, love hearing from all of you xx

[immortalxrose]

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐞, 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐞 [ʸᵃⁿᵈᵉʳᵉ! ᴼᵐᵉᵍᵃ ˣ ᴼᵐᵉᵍᵃ! ᴹᵃˡᵉ ᴿᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ]

summary; Paris Willaims has been stuck in the same world loop for years. 135 to be exact. It's always the same- he's the helpless omega who so desperately needs an alpha to save him. No matter how many times he tries to escape, he's always brought back. That is until you come along.

Warnings; Yandere themes and behaviors.

Notes; Sorry this took so long! Updates might be a bit slow since school has started back up. Also, I am very sorry that this is a bit shorter than the last.

Part Two

It's been two months since the semester started, and Midterms were just around the corner. [M/N] had been cruising through his classes so far, so he wasn't worried about how he'd do. Most of his classes were just gen ed, all freshman-level and fairly simple. It also paid to be smart.

[M/N] was heading to the library for a study group. Listen, he's smart, but he isn't smart smart. Plus, it's a math class. Say what you will, but math is absolute hell.

“[M/N]!” Paris’ voice called out across the busy campus. The [h/c] male looked back as the pink-haired male ran towards him with the same bright smile. The shorter omega wore a green turtleneck, tight jeans, and black platform boots. [M/N] was shocked by how much effort the shorter omega kept putting into his outfits. [M/N] himself had already given up on the whole ‘dress nice’ thing instead of opting for some sweatpants and hoodies. Look, he isn’t going to get all dressed up just for class, especially since he’s spending hours sitting.

[M/N] stared down at the omega approaching, feeling himself smile at the other's welcoming grin. Paris was a very determined omega and somehow weaseled his way into [M/N] life. The pink-haired omega was resilient, refusing to take no for an answer. It was annoying initially, but the other persisted and somehow became what many would consider a friend.

“What are you going here? Your classes don’t start till 2, right?” The shorter male tilted his head, looking up at him with that stupidly adorable look.

[M/N] nodded. “Just here for a study group.”

"Oh. For what class?"

"Math."

Paris grimaced. "Ew."

[M/N] laughed. He held the same sentiment, honestly.

Paris smiled just slightly. He looked at the taller omega with a strange glint in his eyes.

Suddenly, a burning feeling was at the back of [M/N]'s head. He could sense someone approaching, smelling them before he could see them. It was a vulgar scent, reminding him of lit cigars. He looked behind him to see an alpha walking towards them, likely a few inches shorter than him. Something was telling him this experience wasn't going to be fun.

Paris grabbed onto his hoodie sleeve to look behind him. "What are you-" Hr froze, watching in horror as the alpha grew near. He buried his face into [M/N]’s side, his body trembling. His pheromones grew sour. A small whimper left his lips, startling the [h/c] omega.

[M/N] placed a hand on Paris’s back. “Are you ok? Do you know him?”

The omega nodded frighteningly. “He…” The alpha grew nearer, and the omega buried his face farther into the taller side. He continued to speak, his voice muffled. “He’s one of the…alpha’s I told you about.”

[M/N]’s eyes widened. Since the start of the semester, Paris had come to him, complaining about a group of alphas, six to be exact, all trying to court him. He’d refuse multiple times, even going so far as to decline one of them publicly. Yet they were frighteningly persistent. They continued to pursue and court Paris. One of them even went so far as to try to follow the omega back to his dorm. Luckily, [M/N] had been returning to his apartment when the pink-haired male asked him to walk him home.

[M/N] looked back up just as the alpha stood before them. The alpha’s scent began to pour out of him in waves, attempting to get the [h/c] male to back down. But, spending 3 years in an alpha-riddled military base, you don't easily submit just because of some random alpha. “Do you need something?” The alpha ignored him, his gaze stuck on Paris. [M/N] gritted his teeth. “If you're just going to stand here and stink up the place with your scent, then you can leave.”

Shit. 

Paris panicked as the pest grew nearer. He felt sick as the alpha’s scent surrounded him. Nausea settled into his stomach as the scent of cigars penetrated his nose. His legs felt weak as he buried his face in your side. ‘No, no, nonononononono, NO!’ His whole body shook, his scent turning sour with fear. 

His thoughts weren’t on his own safely, honestly. He knew the alphas wouldn’t dare harm him. Their affection for him was too high for them even to try. And even if they decided to try anything, he’s learned to carry two pocket knives, anyway. No, he was worried about you. He knew you could probably protect yourself. You were big and much stronger than him. But these pests were terrifying, even to him. And he’s had years to get used to them.

When he peeked up at you, he was astonished at how calm you looked. You were around 3 inches taller than the pest, yet you practically towered over him. You stood unwavering before the alpha, hardly deterred by the wretched scent. For whatever reason, he expected you to cower and submit. At least, that’s how everyone reacted to the alpha, regardless of secondary gender. 

The pest, Cole, if his memory serves him right, was the next head of a rather influential and dominant family. They trained him to stand above everyone else from a young age. He has great control over his scent and how to make others fall to their knees. 

Yet you didn’t even bat an eye. 

Instead, you stood before the alpha, gently pushing Paris behind you to shield him from the alpha’s gaze. Paris let out a startled gasp at your actions. His grip on your sweater loosened slightly. He quickly looked up and stared at the back of your head. You were…protecting him? He hadn’t expected this. Perhaps it was the effect of the game, yet he’d been used to everyone blatantly ignoring his pleas for help. Even when it was obvious how uncomfortable he was, no one paid attention to him, whether friend or foe.

Yet here you are, protecting. He watched as you stared down Cole. Your actions only solidified his theory that you were not a part of this game. Your existence and actions did not fit in this game. You were made just for him.

He let out a silent chirp as he snuggled into your back. ‘My mate’s protecting me,’ his thoughts raced as his fingers curled around the soft cloth of your sweater. He pressed his nose against your back, inhaling your scent. His body calmed as he began to purr. 

[M/N] stared down at the alpha, his gaze hard and filled with anger. These types of alphas are the ones he despises. The ones that think they have power over everyone just because they're an alpha. The ones that think everyone should submit to them. [M/N] has had years to get used to alphas like this. He’s also had years to force them on their knees and submit them. 

The alpha’s eyes were on him now, a snarl on his face. “How dare you speak to me like that, beta?” [M/N] huffed out a laugh. So the bastard thinks he’s a beta. This will be fun. The alpha continued. “You should never come between an alpha and his omega.”

[M/N] smirked at the absolute audacity. “Your omega? As far as I know, this omega doesn’t belong to anyone.”

The alpha snarled, his scent growing increasingly heavier as anger flickered in his eyes. His scent was beginning to attract the attention of others on campus. Crowds began to form around them, and whispers surrounded them as people pulled out their phones to record. It made him uncomfortable, knowing they would rather stand by and watch. Absentmindedly, [M/N] wondered if his study group had already started.

The alpha, however, puffed out his chest at the newfound attention. Despite the height difference, the alpha attempted to intimidate the ex-veteran. He poured out more of his vulgar scent in his weak attempts. “Do you even know who I am? I’d advise you to watch your tone.”

The [h/c] omega recoiled. What kind of stereotypical rich kid shit is this? [M/N]’s eyebrow twitched. His arm reached back, landing on Paris’s back, and feeling the omega purring “I couldn't care less if you Jesus Christ himself. You and your little gang of friends have been harassing and stalking my friend.” The alpha bristled. [M/N] continued before he had the chance to reply. “It’s fucking disgusting for you all to keep harassing him, even after he rejected your advances. You know that’s how you get a restraining order, or, better yet, a harassment charge.”

The alpha’s face fell as a snarl overcame his features. “You!” The surrounding people gasped, some laughing at the alpha’s ugly face. The male’s face grew red with rage. “You have no reason to speak to me like that! You're just some lowly beta, you have no right to come between this!” The man suddenly stepped forward, his fist clenched and raised in some intimidation tacit. He suddenly smirked. “Someone needs to put you in your place.”

Predictably, the alpha swung his fist toward his face. [M/N] quickly grabbed the man's fist. The alpha’s strength could hardly compare to his. [E/C] eyes met dark brown eyes as the omega squeezed. 

The alpha screamed, his other hand shooting up in a pathetic attempt to pry [M/N]’s fingers off. His knees started to collapse into themselves as he folded in pain. Seconds passed as the alpha cried, completely humiliating himself in front of the entire campus. Everyone stared, their whispers ranging from the alpha’s pathetic state to the supposed beta’s strength. [M/N] stood towering over the withering alpha, his gaze devoid of emotions.

It reminded him of the times when he’d had to prove himself to the alphas on base. The alphas who acted all high and mighty, only to end up sobbing at his feet for mercy. 

[M/N] finally relented, letting the alpha’s still-clenched fist go. The poor man fell to his knees, holding his now bleeding fist as he sobbed. His nails must have dug deep into the palm of his hand for blood to spill. Regardless, [M/N] just watched the depressing scene without a lick of remorse.

Everyone watched the scene with interest. Their phones set off, clicking pictures and taking videos of the scene. Their whispers and jeers circulated the air. [M/N] hummed in satisfaction. “I wonder…” He drawled, bending down just low enough to reach the alpha’s ear, yet loud enough for any students close enough to hear. “How does it feel to get your ass handed to you by an omega?”

[bookish-bogwitch]

Thank you @roomwithanopenfire, @rimeswithpurple, @blackberrysummerblog, @nausikaaa, @larkral,

@hushed-chorus, @alexalexinii, @monbons, @whatevertheweather, @run-for-chamo-miles,

@artsyunderstudy, @mooncello, @brilla-brilla-estrellita, @forabeatofadrum, and @aristocratic-otter for the tags over the past few weeks. I've had a crazy month (90% in crazy a good way) and too frazzled to come up with my own WIP posts, but have enjoyed reading yours and being included.

Here are six ten moody little sentence from Chapter 11 of Basil Pitch's Diary. (In case you missed it, I posted Ch. 10, September, a few weeks ago, then fled the country.) Baz is hanging in in Niall and Dev's room:

The last time I was here with Niall, he’d told me to hold out for more than ear scritches and the occasional carrot. Now we sat on his bed with a chessboard between us. “Baz,” Niall said quietly. “What are you doing?”  “Beating you.” I moved my queen to menace his remaining bishop. “With Snow, I mean.” Niall did that thing where the rook and king hop around, which shouldn’t be allowed, and I realized he’d won. Again. Somewhere, in a parallel universe, there is a me who grew up with someone to play against, demolishing a Niall who never went to math camp.

Below the cut: musing, a posting plan, and more tags.

Musing: I've actually written a ton since the last chapter even though I've been AWOL, but for a while no matter what I wrote, Baz felt out of character. I'd write a scene, like it, and then think "but why is he doing this?" Then I'd rewrite with Baz behaving completely differently, and that also felt OOC.

I worried that I'd somehow doomed myself with inconsistent characterization, but then I figured it out: Baz at this point is deeply inconsistent. He presents himself to the world one way, he tells the reader / himself that he's something else, and deep down he's a secret third thing. And sometimes his masks slip.

To some extent this is every unreliable narrator. But boyo has REALLY tangled himself up at this point. Something's gotta give. Until it does--which it will, soon--I have to be very clear in my mind, even if Baz isn't, about which Baz is driving the Baz at any given moment.

A lot of you can do that sort of thing intuitively. I can't. So I've been building this out (showing you just the headers b/c spoilers):

This might stultify some (most?) of you. For me, though, it's freeing. When my brain isn't trying to keep track of everything, my imagination can unfurl.

"'Everything'?" you ask. "This isn't that plotty a fic." It's not, but it's already 2.5x longer than anything else I've written, which means developing skills I haven't needed before. Anyway, my BPD chart and I are having fun. We're very happy together.

Posting Plan

I pushed myself to get Ch. 10 up before leaving home for three weeks, because Ch. 9 had ended on such a wretched note. While I was happy to have gotten it up, I didn't love the self-imposed time crunch (though betas @cutestkilla, @facewithoutheart, and @thewholelemon were fuckin' heroes). Feeling rushed had me stressing and second-guessing choices that were probably fine.

My plan now is to pause updates until I have at least a very rough first draft of the final chapter, then post it all at regular intervals. I know a longish pause means some folks who'd been reading along will wait until it's complete, if they return at all. To those folks--sorry, and I get it, and thank you for reading in the first place, and I love you.

Tags and shy waves to @brendughh  @beastmonstertitan  @carryonsimoncarryonbaz  @carryonmylovelies  @creepyspice

@comesitintheclover @cows4247 @confused-bi-queer @artsyunderstudy@chen-chen-chen-again-chen

@chronicallyhomoerotic @drowninginships @dragoneggos @excalisbury @emeryhall

@erzbethluna @ebbpettier @fight-surrender @fatalfangirl @gay-at-ikea

@fiend-for-culture @forabeatofadrum @foolofabookwyrm-activated @arthurkko @j-nipper-95

@gekkoinapeartree @goblindad-emoshit @henreyettah @hertragedyconnoisseur @hushed-chorus

@icarus-n-flames @ineffable-grimm-pitch @ic3-que3n @ionlydrinkhotwater @iamamythologicalcreature

 @ileadacharmedlife @ivelovedhimthroughworse @shrekgogurt @im-gettingby @youarenevertooold

@monbons @mooncello @raenestee @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @messofthejess

[solradguy]

hey whatever happened to that post of you defending sol x ky and sol x sin

Lmao. Ok. Alright. You know what? I've been putting up with this shit for six fucking months now. I'm done with you, Xavier, and your little echo chamber on Discord. You're telling people I'm into pedo shit now and you're straight up pulling it out of your ass. I'd call you out by your handles but you're a coward that gets everyone else to do your dirty work for you.

Six. Fucking. Months.

I haven't posted anything about you publicly, and have never said a single word to you, because of the sake of the wiki and the people in that project that are/were friends with you, and cared about you. But it's clear you're absolutely out of your mind. You've crossed a line with this Sol/Sin shit. This probably isn't you that sent this ask, but I'd be willing to bet it's someone from your echo chamber Discord server because no one except the people in there hate me as much as you do. Even the transphobes on Twitter that sent me death threats have moved on better than you have.

Here's the entire story about my (not even direct) interaction with you and your server for everyone to know.

Back in March—which was nearly six months ago, I cannot stress that enough—you wanted to edit the Bedman page on the new wiki and put information on there that wasn't verifiable, namely that he was a legal adult. We had the page locked because of other people that wanted to vandalize it and weren't willing to unlock it for you specifically, but we were willing to put any additions on there that you suggested. One of our admins spoke with you to try to resolve this. You wanted full editing credits for everything put on there that was written by you. Even if you were editing the page yourself, that just isn't how wikis work. During all of this, we were made aware that you were shit talking us and writing death threats about us. You also trash talked my translations, for some reason. When the negotiations with our mod didn't give you the outcome you wanted, I believe our mod blocked you.

We thought that was the end of it. Over the past few months we'd get little updates about you from concerned people that thought we should know. Other than those updates, we forgot you even existed.

Last night I was made aware that you've been stalking my blog, and trash talking me, for the past six months, and now spreading rumors that I'm into Sol/Sin. I made two vague posts about it, the first ones I've made since this situation started six fucking months ago. I deleted them after being told they were making the situation worse, which they were. You've also been manipulating one of my friends and saying you would kill yourself if any more posts were made about you or this situation.

Then I got this ask.

Xavier: You're a lying, manipulative, piece of shit that needs to stay in his damn lane. I'm sorry for whatever situation led you to become this obsessive over not being able to edit a VIDEO GAME WIKI PAGE to say that the maybe-minor is legally fuckable, but it's not my problem. Guilty Gear and Bedman are clearly bad for your mental health if you're still this mad at ONE PERSON who HASN'T EVEN SPOKEN TO YOU for as long as half a year now. You've made me out to be a demon in your mind entirely based on vague interactions and reading too much into my Tumblr posts that were never about you.

Move the fuck on already. I have never spoken to you, I hardly know who you are, and yet you still hate me so much.

[sparreaux]

Stop the Eviction!

As most of my followers know, my spouse and I (both disabled and living on a single income) have been fighting to stay in our rental home for months now. This started when our landlord decided to start using a local property management company who decided all back rent needed to be paid or we needed to leave. (Honestly, that part is fair as we owed quite a bit.)

This was, quite unfortunately, a few days after I had had a harrowing accident where I fell very hard and received a concussion, which has only added to our stress as it affected both my health physically and mentally as well as costing my short term memory. (I still cannot remember that night or the next week clearly) I have been struggling with managing my symptoms since.

We have striven to get the company their money at a detriment to our utilities and food bills, but we have been fortunate to receive so much help and support.

For the past several months, it's only gotten worse. The company had a court date we were never notified of (which had us judged as no shows so the company was free to break any repayment contract we had signed), added fees such as a pet deposit we paid when we moved into this house almost six years ago, legal fees for said court date, late fees that were never discussed before, extra fees from who knows where and basically have just been monthly harassing us with ten day eviction notices and even threatened us with the sheriff. Also they're claiming we didn't pay them on a certain month. Every time we thought we were on track, they'd pull something else. They've been rude and quite frankly, I would love to move to a different house if that was at all an option, but it's honestly not.

I had set up a gofundme, but since we've been paying everything we've got to back rent, our phones have been shut off for the time being and I am completely unable to log in to update or anything.

The management's company's ledger for us currently sits at $2,275.00. They are asking for at least $1000 before the end of the month, after we've already paid our monthly rent plus some. We have people that we can talk to on Monday, but unfortunately, nothing else until then.

I am also very, very behind on commissions. There are several that are almost finished, but my fibromyalgia has been badly flaring, making it extremely difficult to put out the results I want. That being said, if you do not mind waiting a few months, I will happily add you to my art commission list for whatever you'd like to donate to help us.

Tl;dR: Two disabled people with pets are trying not to be evicted. Will draw for donations.

Thank you so much for current and past support. I promise I am trying to get back to everyone who has helped, it is just taking time, more time than I expected. I am sorry and again, thank you.

0/$2275

C*shapp, P*ypal, V*nmo: duessa

[plussizefantasia]

hey ok ok here it goes please: i was wondering if you could make a thor x plus size reader where. she was one of his online friends when he was chubby and drunk. and then he didnt update his profile picture so you thought he would look like chubby thor when you both decided to meet in person. but he actual was normal fit thor when he showed up and the plus size reader is afraid to accept a date from him thinking its all a joke. no one could like her in her head and she didnt wanna get hurt from him thinking he couldnt like her being plus size and thor being all charming and loving and thinks she looks like a goddess? idk something like that?

My Goddess

A/N: Dear god I'm so sorry. I have fallen off the face of the planet and have left this amazing ask in my box for literal months. Anyway... I hope you like this I've been working on it for a while.

Pairing: Thor x PlusSize!reader

Word Count: ~1,600

You were nervous, beyond nervous. Even though it had been probably five years since you had gone on a date you were going on a date with a guy you had only ever seen pictures of. Through a convoluted chain of friends who knew friends who knew single friends, you had been given the number Thor. Yes, that Thor, the God of Thunder himself, actual Avenger, and totally hottie Thor. 

No matter what his reputation was he was very sweet. He talked to you all the time, the two of you texted and called and had been speaking for about six months now. The distance had been off-putting at first, you were in New York City working your dream job and he was leading his people in New Asgard halfway across the world. Regardless you had made it work, even with the time difference.

 You had exchanged some pictures about two weeks in and while you were surprised at the shape the actual God was in you found him arguably even more attractive with the bit of gut he had grown. He had told you about his battle with his mental health, how losing his brother and the battle with Thanos had taken a toll on his confidence in himself. He confided in you that he didn’t feel fit to be a King, that he thought he had let his people down, and that he knew he had let himself go but he didn’t see the point in training anymore. 

You sent pictures of yourself in exchange and also revealed your insecurities. How you thought that you were too much in every way, too loud, too big, too opinionated. That the messages you had received from the people in your life had torn you down and that you sometimes struggled to hold the pieces together. You both bonded over your vulnerabilities and for the first time in a very long time, you were happy.

At first, you had expected him to stop talking to you, it had been a good run and you were happy that you had talked to the literal legend at all. But the sight of your body had been a turn-off for so many before, you didn’t think a literal god would be any different. But he just praised you for your beauty and continued flirting with you. He made you feel stunning with the way he articulated his thoughts about you. He spoke in sonnets and was generous with his praise. You had never been in a relationship like that before, sure you had had boyfriends before but they never waxed poetic about you. Your weight was always something to be looked over because your personality was so great. 

They hadn’t liked you because of your body but despite it.

Thor wasn’t like that, he was charismatic and charming, you supposed that came with the territory of being a prince. He was also terrifying. 

The first time he asked to meet up in person was a few days after you sent over the first picture. He had told you how much he loved talking with you and that he wanted to spend time with you in person and show you a good time. He had told you he could come to New York, that he wanted to just see you, to hold you, to be with you. You had turned him down.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to meet him because you would be crazy to not want to be wrapped up in his arms, not only was he one of the most amazing guys you had ever met but he treated you well (and he was a god). It was just your insecurity that kept you from meeting in person, your worries about yourself always got in the way. And they continued to get in the way until you got a little too tipsy one night and dared yourself to invite him out dancing. You woke up the next morning with a massive hangover and a place and time to meet the God of Thunder.

That led you to tonight, meeting Thor at one of the more relaxed clubs near your place in an outfit that had taken way too long to settle on being nervous as hell. You knew that you would recognize him when he walked through the door, he was pretty distinct even without all the fame. But your anxiety had you arriving half an hour early and now you were just sitting and waiting for the moment he walked through the double doors opposite of the bar you were currently residing at.

What you weren’t expecting was the beefy Viking-esque hero who had waltzed in the door. He looked good. He looked more than good, he looked majestic. He looked thinner than in his photo. 

You had heard about the second battle the Avengers had had with Thanos, you had tearfully thanked Thor over the phone when you had received an extremely confused text from your little brother who had been dusted the five years prior. You just didn’t think that Thor getting back into the Avenging game would mean that he would zap back into perfect shape this soon. After all, it had only been about a month.

But here he was. Decked out in a black button-up with the sleeves rolled about three-quarters of the way. Dark jeans that hugged his ass just right and some deep red sneakers that looked to be somewhat well-worn. His golden hair was braided intricate and adorned with metal rings and beads to hold it into place. He had shaved his beard you clocked, and the long locks that cascaded off his face were replaced with a closer cut, it was still there but it was much neater, and you could see even more of his beautiful, beautiful face.

It took several seconds to decide on whether or not to flee. This was not the guy you had agreed to meet, you agreed to meet the soft man who was vulnerable with you, this was a warrior who commanded attention. The attention you weren’t sure you wanted on yourself.

In the time you took debating with yourself and making an escape plan, he had noticed you and made his way over to where you were seated at the end of the bar.

“Your pictures did not do you justice, you are even more angelic in person” his words caught you off guard and sent a jolt up your spine and right into your cheeks, turning them crimson. You took another sip of your drink and placed your cup down on top of the napkin laying on the bar. 

“Neither do yours, You're much… taller than I thought you’d be.” He laughs at your words and leans his hip against the bar in front of you. His upper body encroached in on your space and sent more blood rushing toward your cheeks. 

In a sudden moment of vulnerability, he looks into your eyes and asks “Is that a problem? Me being too… tall?” You know what he was asking, he had changed and he knows that. He was asking if you still wanted him. If you wanted to be with him now even though he was no longer the man in the pictures whom you have connected to.

“No, no I don’t think it is” You smile and place your hand on his. The smile that lights up his face is more than enough for you to know you said the right thing. 

The two of you talk and talk all evening. He charms you and you charm him right back. You feel like a live wire, energy coursing through your veins. He is a drug and you are already an addict, but there is something that holds you back.

“I have to ask,” you started “Why did you want to meet me?” apparently it was your turn to be vulnerable. “I know I’m not exactly the most gorgeous woman out there” You duck your head and get suddenly get very interested in your drink. You think this is your fourth, maybe it’s your fifth you can’t remember. Either way, you're feeling floaty and need to know what’s going on in his brain before this goes any further.

He places two of his fingers under your chin and lifts until your eyes meet his. “I wanted to meet you because you have bewitched me. Your beauty is beyond measure, I have traveled the nine realms and have never beheld a more marvelous visage than when I was graced with your image. You have captured my heart with your wit and charm and most importantly you have made me want to be better.” His words stole the air from your lungs and there was only one thing you could think to do.

You lunged forward and grabbed his face with your hands, you placed your lips on his and closed your eyes, waiting and praying for him to reciprocate your bold move. You didn’t have to wait for very long, in the next moment his fingers had woven into your hair and his tongue was swiping against the crease of your lips.

It felt otherworldly, you and he wrapped up in each other, as cliche as it sounded everything but you two fell away. You could live like this, you could die like this and you would go happily. Eventually, you two had to separate, even gods had to breathe.

Your foreheads met one another and he chuckled against you.

“My goddess” he had whispered in between the two of you.

You kissed him again.

[rafesapologist]

the set up — rafe cameron; part nine

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: you've been one of the pogues since childhood, and your loyalty has always lied within your friend group, who is practically your family. when a threat by the name of rafe cameron begins to threaten the pogue's plans, they assign you to gain the trust of the dubious kook and keep an eye on what he's up to. however, now it's been six months since your friends set you up to spy on the kook prince himself, but what you didn't anticipate was to fall head over heels for the boy. your relationship had soon become inviolable shortly after your guys' first exchanges, much to your friends' dismay, and you two became practically inseperable. that was, until rafe discovers the truth.

warnings: swearing, some angst

author's note: hi my loves. so terribly sorry for the extensive wait it took for this chapter to be released, between school starting and things going on in my personal life taking an abundance of my time, it has been difficult to sit down and make the time to write. with each chapter, i always want to curate a piece that you all will enjoy n i never want to give you guys something half-assed. anywho, i have seen and read all ur comments about updating this series i promise, ur requests have not been ignored! thank u for being patient <3

The car ride to the chateau was quiet and tense. Your eyes stayed glued to the window, rather than looking at Rafe, who you instinctively knew was pondering a thousand reasons as to why you had a sudden shift in your demeanor. At some point, he had placed a gentle hand onto the top of your thigh, but much to his dismay, you shifted your legs towards the passenger door. His brows furrowed at your reaction, confused as to why you were rejecting his touch as though you weren't just begging for it merely an hour ago.

You hated being so callous towards him, especially without giving him an explanation as to why you were exactly, but you knew it was for the best. Your loyalty still belonged to the Pogues.

"We're here." Rafe blurted out rather dryly as the car came to a halt. With the lack of sound from the tires moving or the engine running, the atmosphere became even more unpleasant than it was prior. Your eyes shifted from the window to your lap while you fiddled with your thumbs in an attempt to form a sentence before parting ways with the boy sitting next to you, who happened to be surveying your every movement, unable to come to a conclusion about what was happening in your mind.

"Hey, I'm sorry if what we did made you uncomfortable or was too much. I don't want to overstep your boundaries or anything." He coughed, scratching the back of his head as a subtle display of his nerves taking over.

"No, it's okay," you shook your head, eyes staying locked onto your hands, "It's not that I promise. I just - Forgot I had something to do tonight and it hit me last minute." The little white lie you chose to go with was minor and meaningless, yet you felt an immense guilt at the pit of your stomach for the deception you were fronting right before Rafe's solemn face.

"Oh," Rafe sighed as he nodded, "okay yeah, that's alright. Well in that case, I guess I'll see you later. Maybe we can go out sometime this week." He flashed you a weak smile, with partial intent to try and ease the tension in the air, and another to try and convince himself that things between you two were okay and that you weren't pushing him away all of the sudden.

"Yeah, maybe so, Cameron." You replied with a forced smile that went unnoticed by Rafe, nodding quickly as you hoped to brush his comment under the rug for the time being. "Thanks for driving me, by the way. I appreciate it." You thanked him, a conciliatory approach to your final goodbye in hopes that it would clear Rafe's wondering mind of any doubt between the two of you.

"Of course."

You pushed aside your incentive for a short second as you leaned across the seat, placing a gentle kiss onto the blond's cheek, a small residue of your strawberry chapstick temporarily tattooed onto his skin. He soaked up every bit of it.

"See you later, Rafe." You breathed quietly against the side of his face as you backed away, taking in one last glance of the stunned boy as his eyes fluttered back open, just before hopping on out the car and trailing up the steps of the chateau. You made sure to turn around and wave to Rafe one last time before entering, a signal to assure him that you were safe and that he could finally drive off.

"Y/n? What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be with-" You cut Kiara's prying short as you were in desperate need to relay your newfound information amongst your friends.

"Rafe and Ward are shipping out the gold tonight, like literally within the next thirty minutes." You blurted out frantically.

"Wait, what? Are you sure?" John B questioned, his eyes wide with disbelief.

"Pretty damn sure, considering he just told me about it. That's why I came here as soon as I found out," You stated in urgency, "we don't have much time before it happens. He's heading to meet his dad right now."

"We gotta go." Pope interjected immediately, an unfamiliar sterness in his tone.

"And do what, Pope? How are we supposed to stop them with no plan ahead of time? Kiara asked, raising an appropriate question to the matter. The news came so last minute that none of you really had time to digest what was happening, let alone come up with an elaborate plan to stop something that had been in the works for weeks prior.

"We'll find a way. We always do." JJ spoke up as he rose confidently from the couch, which in turn earned an eye roll from you at his gesture and stupidity.

"Don't be naive, JJ. We can't just magically stop Rafe and Ward, especially since you know they probably have backup here to keep anyone from getting in their way." You spat back in annoyance while the grudge you held against JJ from the day before lingered in the forefront of your mind, causing everyone to look between you and JJ in confusion.

"Right.." Kiara interjected, attempting to cut the tension that was heating up in the room amongst two of her closest friends, "Well, if none of us have any solutions then what can we do." She huffed, her face ridden with apprehension.

"Actually, I might have an idea." You heard the voice of Sarah Cameron join in on the conversation, eliciting everyone in the room to turn their heads in the direction of the blonde Pogue.

"It might be a longshot, but, why don't we just distract Rafe and Ward, and the rest of us go in during the meantime and get the gold before they realize?"

"Who would be doing the distracting?" Pope Inquired with his arms crossed, hesitation at the forefront of his demeanor, yet there was still a hint of agreeance that became evident by his curiosity.

"Well, y/n can call up Rafe, pretend there's an emergency or something. While she's doing that I'll go meet up with my dad, then you guys can go in and do what you need to do. We can at least hold them off for a bit, it should give you guys enough time." Sarah proposed the calculated scheme. It wasn't a bad one, far from it actually, but part of you hated it at the same time. You weren't too fond of the idea of lying to Rafe for the second time in a row, all within a 24 hour time span. It made you feel peccant and iniquitous, which went against everything you stood for morally, but you had to look at the bigger picture and push aside your guilt for the moment. This wasn't about you, it was about doing what's right for your friends and defending them. After all, you were their biggest hope.

"Alright, I'll do it. But I can't promise I can hold him off for long, he seemed pretty eager to get there to meet Ward." You heaved.

"That's okay, we should only need a few minutes." Pope nodded, a smile peaking through at the corners of his mouth, his eyes glimmering with a newfound sense of hope in them.

"Thank you, y/n. We couldn't do this without you." You were taken by surprise with the embrace of your sanguine confidant, who held onto you like you had just given him the world. Your body relaxed in his arms as you hugged him back, giving him the assurance that you were going to do your best to help him in whatever way you possibly could.

"I should probably call Rafe then, I don't want to waste anymore time than we've already lost." You stated, pulling back from your friend. Pope responded with a head nod as he gestured you away.

You flashed your friends a small, insincere smile as you walked off into one of the bedroom of the chateau. Your heart raced at what you were about to do, worrying that if Rafe senses any ounce of deception it'll all blow up in your face, or worse, he'll lose all trust in you.

You took in one last deep breath as you unlocked your phone and went straight to your contacts, scrolling until you found Rafe's name. Your finger hovered shakily over the 'call' button as you stared at it for a few seconds, wondering what you were even going to say to him. Your eyes wandered around the room as you tried to ground yourself for a moment, bracing for whatever was to come for you and your friends. You didn't want to do this, but what other choice did you have? This wasn't about you, this wasn't about what your feelings or what you felt was right or wrong. It was about the people you cared about the most, and in that moment, they needed you greatly.

You allowed yourself to fall back into the mattress, letting your body sink deeper into the foam as you gazed at the ceiling in deep thought. You could hear the sound of the front door opening and closing in the living room, alerting you that your friends had left, leaving you to do your part of the deal.

"Y/n? Is everything okay? I thought you'd be asleep by now."

"I'm not okay right now, Rafe. I need you."

taglist (sorry if i missed anyone, please let me know if you'd like to be on it!): @ellesalazar, @champomiel, @vadinaleme, @kys4-20, @gills-lounge, @allsmilesreally7, @sublimepenguinpeach-blog, @sp00ky-spr1te, @bibliophilewednesday, @haroldpotterson, @i-love-rafe, @ellesalazar, @calmoistorm, @abundantxadorations, @fals3-g0d, @gillybear17, @oiiviagrande, @hockeybabe87, @augustlikesdeath, @wpdailyminimeta, @palmwinemami, @loxleys-blog, @ikisscline, @flyestvenustrap, @ilovesteveharrngton

[whysodelirious08]

Radio Silence - E.M short story (OlderEddie x Younger reader)

------

A/N: This is just a sad fic. Sorry!

Theme: Hurt/No comfort

Pairing: Older Eddie x Younger Reader (Fiancé)

Word count: 716

Warnings: None. But this isn't proofread sorry lol

----------

You had sat at the airport for hours. Waiting. For a text. For a call. For just…anything. A sign that Eddie was okay. But you go no updates. You had sat there thinking about how you'd been so supportive with his decision to do another tour after previously retiring early half a decade before. You knew he had only retired because of the burnout and he needed a permanent excuse to avoid his manager and the hectic schedule. And when he proposed the idea to get back on the road, you told him to go for it. You helped him prepare and sure, everything went well for the first two or three months of the tour; you called, he sent postcards, you flew out to see him twice and saw him play live.

But then the calls slowed and the postcards near enough stopped. When you did hear from him he would apologise but he didn't sound too guilty. And he would talk in a way that gave the impression he wanted to get off the call. Like he needed to be somewhere else. You tried to reason with yourself; that he was tired. That he was busy. That he was probably feeling a little burnt out. But the lack of communication and want to talk to you hurt like hell, it was a punch to the gut that you could barely recover from. You knew there was an age gap between you, but that had never been an issue. You feared he had rethought your relationship, that maybe you were too young for him. You tried not to let your thoughts get to you but you spent so much time alone in that airport, alone with your feelings.

The box of assorted chocolates sat almost lonely next to you on the drive back in the passenger seat. They were his favourite kind. The kind you had called up and specifically asked the shop for since they didn't sell them anymore. But you knew how much Eddie loved them. So you paid the extra. You didn't even think twice. You had waited six months for this moment. Where you would be reunited with the man you swore to marry. The man who had taken you to your dream location for a private proposal, who had taken a class to be able to make your engagement ring by hand. And now you were alone in your car, the sun was setting and you hated every station that played so you just sat in silence.

You could feel the burn starting up in your nose, the tears starting to cloud your vision but you forced it all back. Forced it away. You couldn't let yourself get worked up. Not while you were driving, it was dark and the rain was starting to pick up, you didn't need to make the ride home riskier. You didn't find it any easier to pull yourself from the car than it did from your seat at the airport but with the gentle encouragement of your dog in the window you hauled yourself and Eddie's gifts into the house. Your dog leaning all over your legs as you tried to get in the door.

Dio. The black German shepherd rescue that you surprised Eddie with after you had settled into the new house together. He had been so happy, so ready to name the puppy. And now, when Dio should be greeting Eddie, he was trying to console you as you stopped in the kitchen, sobs slowly erupting from your chest. Your sobs and Dio's whines were the only sounds that echoed through your darkened house, only the kitchen and hallway lights on as the rain patted softly against the windows.

Eventually, you became numb. Numb enough to heat some food up. Numb enough to sit in the bath until it became cold. You slept with Dio in the bed that night. And the following nights until the puppy became an old dog. Until you too were much older.

Eddie never called. Never came home. A new hand in his. A new home. A new dog. A new life.

You didn't know why and perhaps you didn't want to. And you never loved anyone else after Eddie. Your heart too broken for another.

[janicho88]

I Got You- Chapter 7

Pairing- Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Female! Kazansky reader

Word count- 3,398

Warnings- Language, mentions of domestic violence, injuries, and abuse, abusive boyfriend, hurt reader, protective Jake. If I missed something, please let me know.

A/N- Before we get any further into this, there will be a few differences from the movie. Ice was sick, but beat it, the aviators are there for a six-week training, not three. I’m sure there are going to be Naval inaccuracies. The first few chapters will be a little heavy, but we will move past that. This chapter is un beta'd, all mistakes are mine. Sorry it has taken so long to update, well anything. Here is my birthday treat to you this year!

Summary- When you have finally reached a breaking point, you call the one person you trust for help. He’s never seen you as more than a friend, but he is the person you know you’re safest with.  It’s been months since he has had so much as a text from you, but Jake Seresin would do anything for the Navy princess he met years ago.  The pilot knows she means more to him than he ever will to her, but he will do anything for her.

Series Masterlist

 The sun streaming in the open curtain wakes Jake before his alarm does.  He starts to stretch before noticing you have once again curled right up to him.  A small smile appears on his face as he looks down at you half on his chest.  He doesn’t want to dwell on it, but this is definitely something he could get used to.

Trying to slide out of bed without waking you up isn’t as successful as Jake was hoping.  You try to tighten your arm around him, but end up moving your wrist enough to aggravate it.  Sitting up quickly, you hold your casted wrist with your good hand.

“I’m sorry,” Jake starts apologizing to you, “I was trying not to wake you.”

“It’s my fault,” you automatically reply.  The soreness in your throat has you wincing slightly.

“Stay here, I’ll go grab the ice and a pain pill.”  Jake was out of the room before you could stop him. 

Carefully getting up, you follow him downstairs. He looks up from your bottle of medication as you enter the kitchen.

“You didn’t have to come down, I was going to bring it up.”

“I know, but you need to get yourself ready, and not worry about me so you aren’t late again.  I can take care of this for myself.”  He starts to argue, but you cut him off.  “Really Jake, I can do it.  It’s not the first time.”  

You see his face harden at the reminder that Josh has done this to you before.  As his jaw clenches, you put your good hand on his cheek, “I’m okay, please go get yourself ready.”

He hesitates but finally returns upstairs to shower and get dressed in his uniform.  After he exits, you start the coffee maker for him, and make a quick trip to the downstairs bathroom before returning to the kitchen.  

Forgetting about the ice and pills, you start getting eggs and bacon out of the fridge so you can make Jake breakfast before he leaves for work.  You’ve never had to cook one handed before, and it’s trickier than you were anticipating. The eggs finish up just as you hear his footsteps on the stairs, looking around you realize you forgot to get him toast, and you hurry and put that in before he enters.  

Looking around the kitchen as he enters Jake turns to find you carefully flipping bacon, “What’s all this darlin’?”

“I was trying to get your breakfast finished before you got down here.”

“I appreciate this, but you really don’t have to do all this.  You’re hurt, I can make my own while you rest.”

He must have seen your shoulders slightly slump, because he keeps talking,  “but it was awful nice of you to go to all this trouble.  Will you sit down and ice your wrist for me please?”

Turning the bacon off you do as he asks.  He tries to divide the food between two plates, but you tell him it’s for him.

“You need something to take your pills with, so they don’t upset your stomach,” he reasons. 

“I’ll just have a banana for now.”

He finally gives up with a sigh and grabs a banana for you.  

“I’m not sure how long I’ll be today.  If Mav lets the others go early, I might be able to have the second flight done and be back by 5 still.  Is there anything you need from anywhere on my way home?” 

“No, don’t worry about me.  I don’t want to distract you from your work and get you in trouble again.”

“Hey, don’t worry about that.  I put your leftover pasta in the fridge, it’s by your stuff from Penny you put in there.”

“Thank you.”

He looks at you, and bites his lip before talking, he can’t keep this from you.  “Speaking of Penny.  She knows you’re here.”

You turn to look at him so fast you irritate the bruises on your neck.  “You told Penny?”

“Not exactly, she saw you grab the food, and confronted me when I stopped to pay her.”

“So instead of worrying about Uncle Mav telling dad, Penny will tell mom.”

You look so close to tears, Jake rushes to tell you, “she promises to keep this to herself.  Said if either one of us needed anything to let her know.” 

You just nod in response, and look at the banana still in your hand before setting it down on the counter. 

Jake is just about to leave for work, when he looks at you standing by the door waiting to lock it. 

 “I didn’t even think about this yesterday, do you need to call your job?  Tell them you aren’t coming back, at least not right now?”

Looking down you shake your head slightly, “I don’t have one anymore.”

He has a feeling he knows who is responsible for that.  “Okay, you can tell me about that later.  I didn’t look at your phone last night, please don’t turn it back on yet.  I’ll figure something out tonight.  Have a good day Princess.”  Without thinking, he gives you a kiss to the top of the head before shutting the door. 

Jake walks out to his truck and slides behind the wheel before he lets his composure slip a little.  “FUCK!” he yells out.  Angry at your piece of shit ex who did this to you, and himself for not doing a better job of checking on you when you stopped reaching out.  A small part of him knows that if you were hiding it from your parents and everyone else, you probably wouldn’t have confided in him either.  But the part that wants to beat himself up, says he could have prevented your hurt.  Taking a deep breath, he starts the truck and heads off toward base.

You watch from the window as Jake takes a few minutes to leave the driveway.  You wonder if he forgot something, or if you did something to upset him this morning.  Maybe you should have stayed out of his way and let him get ready for work without having to deal with you?  You’ve been enough trouble for Jake, and you haven’t even been here 48 hours.  

Most of the squad is in the locker room when Jake walks in.  Unfortunately, Rooster is the first one to notice him.  

“Look who decided to grace us with his presence today.  And he’s not even late.”

“Shut up chicken.”

“What did you wake up on the wrong side of whatever chick you took to bed last night?”

Hangman glares at his fellow pilot, while Fanboy snickers in the corner, and Coyote tries to figure out if he is going to have to step in before a fight happens.  Before anything else can happen, the locker room door opens, and Maverick sticks his head in.  

“Hangman, my office.”  The captain retreats just as quickly as he appeared.

“This has to be some kind of record for you right?”  Bradshaw goes back to poking.  “Usually you're the golden boy with your superiors, at least at first.”

Jake quickly changes into his flight suit, doing his best to ignore the other man’s comments.  He doesn’t have time to play games, and he won’t risk pissing off Cyclone and being sent back. 

Once he leaves the locker room, Hangman quickly heads to his captain’s office.  Maverick is looking over a file when he knocks on the open door.  

“Come in and shut the door.”  Once the younger man does, Mave continues.  “I talked to Warlock this morning.”  When he can see the lieutenant start to speak up, Maverick holds up his hand.  “I didn’t say anything about Y/N, don’t worry.  He’s going to check the flight plans scheduled for later, and Cyclone's own schedule to see when we can get you up for a second run today.  When the others leave, just hang back.”

“Yes sir.  Thank you.”

“How is she this morning?” 

“Her voice is still a bit rough.  You can tell she hurts, but she doesn’t come out and say it..  She’s worried you’re going to tell her parents.”

“I’ve never kept anything important from Ice, and I don’t feel right not telling him this.  That’s for sure, but I will give her some time.”

“Thank you.”

“Keep her safe, lieutenant.  Dismissed.”

Hangman heads to the room they are using to discuss mission parameters for today.  The rest of the squad is already in the room, along with Hondo.  Maverick, Cyclone and Warlock, thankfully walk in before Bradshaw can open up his mouth to try and antagonize him again.  The captain gives them a rundown of the terrain they will be working with today.  Once they are divided into pairs, those not on the first hop head to the ready room to wait.  

Back at Jake’s house you take the garbage bag of things Jake pulled out of the closet for you, and look through it in the spare bedroom.  There are a few bent pictures, the frames broken and gone.  You put them under a book on the dresser to try and flatten them out.  The books he didn’t want you reading, a deployment letter from Jake, Josh had torn apart.  It took you a few days to tape that one back together, but having a small part of Jake close by gave you hope that you would make it through whatever your now ex did to you.  You had taken anything else Jake had given you and hid it at your parents by that point. 

Taking a look around the bare room, you know Jake will probably remember to pick up more sheets tonight.  That means you will have to move in here and out of his room, this letter will be the only part of him you can hold at night once again. 

Trying to shake off the tears that want to fall at that thought, you leave the room and see what needs to be done around the house.  You aren’t going to sit around all day again.  No, you have to show Jake you can be a good roommate so he won’t kick you out.  After you clean up, you can start on dinner so he has a home cooked meal to come back to.

Later that afternoon, when everyone has completes the first practice hop, Mave dismisses the group.  As the rest clear out of the briefing room, Jake remains at his desk.  Coyote stops by the door and waits for his friend, noticing he isn’t moving.

“Hey man, are you coming?”

“No, I have to go over some things from yesterday with Maverick.  I’ll catch you later.”

“I think we’re all grabbing dinner at the Hard Deck later, you’re coming right?”

“I’m not sure.  I’ll…”

“Dude, why not?  What’s gotten into you the last few days?”

Hangman knows if he wants to keep the others off his back, he needs to at least make an appearance tonight.  “When I finish up here, I’ll stop by.”

Satisfied for now, Coyote heads off to the locker room. 

Maverick walks back in a few minutes later.  “Warlock says Cyclone is heading out for a meeting off base.  He cleared us for airspace in half an hour. Go get ready.” 

Hangman heads back out to the tarmac and checks his plane over for the second time today.  It’s been refueled and is ready to go.  Climbing inside and completing precheck, he waits for the all clear to start up and take off. 

Pete knew Jake was one hell of an aviator, he demonstrated that on his first day.  But the older pilot still isn’t expecting the run the younger man gave him today.  He came very close to shooting him down before Maverick was able to spin around at the last minute.   Both men then head back to base before Cyclone is expected to return.

Back at Jake’s house, you’ve done your best to sweep and dust the already clean house, but your sore ribs and broken wrist make the easy tasks a challenge.  It isn’t long before you really start to hurt, but you ignore the pain in order to start preparing dinner for Jake. 

After his shower Jake changes back into his khaki uniform to run home and let you know about his unwanted dinner plans.  He really does need to do something about getting you a working phone.  When he walks in the front door of the house a short time later his mouth is watering at the smell.  

“Hey Darlin’ I’m back,” he calls out so you don't worry about who is walking in.    

There isn’t a response to his greeting as he’s taking off his boots.  Slightly worried, he turns and looks around the living room for any sign of you.  After a second glance at the couch, he realizes you are curled up in the corner of it sleeping.  Taking the blanket off the back, Jake carefully covers you up with it, but that is enough to wake you.

Jumping up in shock, you stand up quickly and wobble on your feet.  He reaches a hand out to steady you.  

“Easy there, it’s just me.  I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I just sat down for a minute.  The chicken!”

Jake looks at you in confusion as you take off for the kitchen.   Standing in the doorway he watches you open the oven and go to pull out a pan.

“Hey let me do that,” he says as he tries to take the hot mit away.

“I can do it,” you argue.

“Okay, but you probably shouldn’t.  You need to be careful with your wrist.”

“No, I needed to make dinner.”

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to make dinner.  I appreciate the gesture, but you don’t have to.  The only thing you should be worrying about right now is resting and taking care of yourself.”

“No, I have to…”

He cuts you off standing right in front of you, with his hands on your shoulder.   “You don’t have to do anything.  This does smell amazing.  I’m going to have to steal a bite before I leave.”

“What do you mean, leave?” you question, with worry in your voice.

“The others can tell something is going on with me, and keep trying to figure out what that might be.  They are all meeting at the Hard Deck for dinner and are expecting me there.  I’m sorry but I need to go make an appearance. I promise I won’t stay too long.”

Jake can see the disappointment flash in your eyes, and the moment you try to cover it up.  

“I really am sorry.  But if I don’t go they are going to end up over here and we are going to have more noses in our business than I think you want right now.”  He reaches beside you and pulls a piece of chicken off one of the breasts.  “Damn girl, tastes and good as it smells.  I wish I could stay, but raincheck for tomorrow?”

 All you can do is nod.  You didn’t tell you to make dinner, you just assumed he would be expecting it like Josh did.  Josh would have demanded you make something, complained about it before eating somewhere else anyways.  Jake at least pretended to have enjoyed it.  

“How about I make you a plate before I go.  Then you can at least sit down and enjoy your hard work.”

“No thanks, I’m not very hungry.”

“You need something.  Are you taking your medications.”

“Yeah, I’m fine.  Just leave it Jake.  You should get going.”

“If you’re sure.”

Giving a slight nod you begin picking up the kitchen.  Wrapping up everything you made to go into the refrigerator.  Jake stops in the kitchen doorway, feeling bad that you went to all the work and he isn’t staying.  He almost goes screw it when his phone beeps with an incoming text.

Coyote- Dude, where you at? 

He lets his friend know he’s on his way before heading to the door once more.  You saying his name stops him.  

“If you leave the sheets, I’ll wash them while you’re gone.  That way you can have your own space back tonight.”

“Oh crap.  I’m sorry I came here straight from base.  I will grab some tonight.  I’m sorry.  I’m sure you are ready to get away from me and have your own space.”

Neither one of you have the heart to tell the other that isn’t what you really want. 

While Jake is on his way to hard deck you pick at the salad you made, not that it tastes as good as the chicken probably did.  You know you need to watch what you eat, Josh always told you how bad you looked.  That’s probably why Jake wants you out of his bed.  Lord knows he has shared it with women you look much better than you.

Jake arrives at the Hard Deck, making his way to the bar before finding his squad.  Penny spots him, giving him a puzzled look before grabbing his usual beer.  

“I’m surprised to see you here tonight.  Is she with you?”

“No, she’s back home.  The squad has been giving me crap about blowing them off.  It would be better for all of us to appease them for one night.  Do you know if they have already ordered food?”

“I think they just sent their orders back.”

“Can I add a burger to my tab please.  I don’t think I’m going to be here too late.”

“Coming right up.”

Drink in hand Jake makes his way over to the pool tables to watch Rooster take on Bob.  Bradley looks up after taking his shot, smirking as it goes in.

“Look who finally decided to join the team.”

“Bradshaw, still can’t shut that mouth huh?”

“What?  Can’t take a little heat?”

Hangman looks the table over, seeing Bradley is currently ahead.  “I’ll take winner, and when I kick your ass you back off.”

“You think you can take me?  You haven’t been in here practicing very much lately.  I’ll bet you're rusty.  When I kick YOUR ass, you do the honorable thing, pack up and go home.  No one wants you here.”

Coyote starts to head toward Rooster until Hangman pulls him back.

“You’re on chicken.”

It doesn’t take long for Rooster to finish the game with Bob.  The next game starts out pretty evenly, but it doesn’t take Jake long to take control.  The striped balls are all missing from the table now, Hangman leans over to line up his shot.  He looks over and Rooster and asks, “any last words?”  Before hitting the 8 ball without even looking at it.  The ball spins into the side before rolling into the corner pocket securing Jake’s win.  With his trademark smirk, he looks to the other pilot before laying down his stick.  

The food is brought over before Rooster can start something else up, and Jake ignores him, his thoughts going back to you.  Grabbing his burger from Penny he moves over to one of the two top tables with Coyote.

“Glad you finally managed to grace us with your presence.  What’s been going on with you dude?”

“Nothing you need to worry about man.”

Jake’s ringing phone cuts the conversation short.  Grateful for the interruption he doesn’t glance at the number before answering.  “Seresin.”

After being unable to find you at the hospital or medstations, Josh angrily sits at home waiting for your return.  When that never happens, he calls some of his friends the next morning to see if you had spoken with any of their wives or girlfriends.  That comes up empty, not that he figured you were dumb enough to run to them.  Next he tries tracking your phone using the Find my Phone App, and a tracker he installed.  Both of which say the phone last pinged a tower in Santa Ana.  What were you doing there?  He has to leave for work before he can do anything more with that information. 

 When he checks later in the afternoon, it still tells him the same city.  Talking with the phone company he finally gets a hold of the last number you dialed.  Now to find out where you tried to hide. 

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[sailor-aviator]

Fool's Fare: Chapter Four

Fool's Fare: Chapter Four

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Captain Jake "Hangman" Seresin had come close to swinging from the gallows more times than he would care to admit. He's stolen, cheated, even killed. The worst thing he's ever done? Broken the heart of a woman. Having broken the heart of the woman whom Davy Jones himself had fallen for six years ago, Jake is now cursed to live as something not dead, but not alive. He's doomed to live a half-life for the rest of his existence unless he manages to obtain the treasure Davy Jones deems most valuable. The problem? He has no idea what it is, and he only had seven years to obtain it.

Triggers: Serious discussions, Flirting, Language, Falling overboard. I think that's it.

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: Hey! Long time, no see kind of. I know it's been a HOT minute since I've updated this story, but I'm hoping to update it a little more now that Don't Hang'em Til Noon has basically wrapped. Hanging By a Moment will be out probably sometime in the next month, but we'll see! In the meantime, enjoy! Anyway, it's a little shorter than my usual chapters, but I'm trying to get back into the swing of this story a little bit. As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! 18+ ONLY!! You can also find me on AO3 under sailor_aviator where I post my updates as well!

Series Masterlist || Moodboards || Playlist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin Tag List

Your head was pounding something awful as you came to. The light was blinding as the sun filtered in through the window, the crash of waves echoing up and through the room. You were nestled comfortably against a plush pillow, your body cradled by the soft mattress beneath you. You let out a groan as you moved to sit up, pressing against your temples in the process.

“Well, good morning!”

You whipped your head around to look at the source of the voice, wincing as the sudden movement caused a flash of pain behind your eyes. Natasha sat perched on the bed opposite yours, a grin stretched across her face as she watched you.

“What?” You muttered, squinting your eyes at her in confusion. “What’s going on?”

You didn’t remember much from the night before, just the faint memory of tears and two different feelings of shock mixed in with passing faces and jeers.

“You had a lot to drink last night, Guppy,” she smirked at you, one leg propped up to lean against as she studied you, amusement still shining bright in her eyes. “Came up from the galley to find you asleep in bed with Jake sitting there right next to you. It was a sight for sure.”

You groaned once again as the events of the night before came rushing back to you, hiding your face in your hands. The reveal of your father’s past. The ale the men kept handing you. Bradley’s betrayal. Jake knowing who you were all along. The feel of his hand on your cheek.

You peeked through your fingers to look at the other woman. A smile ghosted on her lips, widening the longer you looked at her.

“You’ve nothing to be embarrassed about,” she assured you. “Everyone on this ship has done something they aren’t proud of after too much ale.”

“Nonetheless,” you muttered, dropping your hands back down into your lap, “I’m sorry you had to see that. I’m not usually like that.”

“I believe you,” she smiled. “It must have been quite the shock to get all of that information in one go.”

“It was.”

“So,” she hummed, her smile shifting into a conspiratorial smirk. “Why’d you do it?”

Your brow furrowed in confusion. “Do what?”

“Why’d you sneak on the ship?” She scoffed, leaning back against the wall, rubbing her thumb and forefinger together as she continued to watch you.

“Oh,” you murumured, glancing away and towards the window. It had to be almost noon with how bright it was outside. How long had you been asleep? “I did it to make sure Bradley stayed safe.”

She quirked an eyebrow at you and you sighed, fidgeting with the blanket in your lap.

“He’s the only family I have left,” you whispered, fighting back the tears that threatened to make an appearance. “I would never forgive myself if something happened to him and I wasn’t there to stop it.”

Natasha didn’t say anything for a moment, instead moving to stand, walking over towards her wardrobe on the other side of the room. You watched her rummage through, pulling out several different pieces of clothing.

“Here,” she said, tossing some of the pieces to you. You caught them, looking at her in confusion. She chuckled before starting to change. “I figured you’d want a change of clothes. You’ve been wearing your old ones for a while now.”

You eyed the clothes in your lap before moving to change as well. Once the two of you were decent, she headed for the door with you hot on her heels. Her hand hovered over the door knob as she turned to look back at you.

“Guppy?”

“Yes?”

“What you did was really brave.”

“You idiot!” You shrieked, throwing your shoe with all of your might. It launched across the deck, hitting Bradley squarely in the shoulder as he flinched, his hands shooting up to try and block the offending item.

“I know, but why?” He hollered, looking around for any way to escape. Several of the men on deck watched the scene with amusement, some already cackling at the large men cowering in fear as you stalked towards him.

“They all knew, Bradley,” you hissed, punching the meat of his arm once you were close enough. He winced, rubbing the spot lightly as he glanced from you to the rest of the crew.

“Knew what?”

“Knew that I was a girl,” you growled, placing your hands on your hips as you glared at him. He stared at you for a moment, mind struggling to catch up. Another moment passed before a light of realization sparked in his eyes, and he looked around wildly at the crew, some nodding and shrugging.

“They knew?” He breathed, eyes darting to your smaller form hesitantly.

“The whole time, in fact,” you groused, now crossing your arms over your chest. He swallowed thickly, a sheepish smile crawling onto his face.

“Oh,” he chuckled nervously. “Oops.”

You landed a solid punch to his upper arm, causing him to cry out.

“Would you stop that?” He snapped, dodging your next blow and maneuvering so that he held your forearms in his hands. “That hurts, you know.”

“Good!” You shot back, still glaring at him. “You deserve it after everything.”

“It was an honest mistake!” He reasoned. “How was I supposed to know the disguise wouldn’t work?”

“It’s not just about the disguise, Bradley.”

His face went slack at your words, a mixture of regret and guilt flooding his brown eyes as the effect of your words rushed over him. No one on the deck spoke or moved as the two of you stared each other down.

“Alright you lot,” Javy called out from the upper deck. All eyes turned to where he stood, a stern expression on his face as he looked over the crowd. “Get back to work. There’s still lots to do before we dock tomorrow.”

Your eyes darted from him to meet the green ones already on you. Jake had a bemused expression on his face as he watched you while leaning against the rails, a twinkle of something that you couldn’t name shining in his eyes. A smirk tugged on his lips as you stared at him, shooting a wink your way before standing up straight and turning to move back towards the cabins. You felt your cheeks warm, glancing back at Bradley who was already watching you with a knowing look. Your irritation with the man was renewed and you pushed at him with all your might, sending him stumbling back a couple of steps.

“You lied to me.”

“He didn’t want me to tell you, Guppy,” he sighed. “He didn’t want you to know that part of him.”

“So instead,” you seethed, “I had to find out from strangers instead of my own brother.”

He had the good sense to look ashamed, and he looked away from you and out towards the sea. “You shouldn’t have found out about it like that.”

“You’re damn right I shouldn’t have,” you huffed.

He peeked over at you, watching you from the corner of his eye.

“I’m sorry.”

It was your turn to watch him now. Bradley was your brother, and no matter how much of an idiot he could be at times, you still couldn’t stay mad at him for long. The anger drained from your body, replaced with a calm sense of acceptance as you turned to look out at the sea with him.

“Are you hungry?” You asked. He shook his head, grimacing.

“No, not at all.”

You turned to look at him again, worry now etched across your face as the wind whipped your hair about.

“Bradley,” you started, “when was the last time that you ate? You didn’t eat much last night.”

He gave you a noncommital shrug, avoiding your eyes as he answered.

“Guess it’s been a while.”

“Are you not feeling well?” You hummed, reaching over to feel his forehead. He shirked away from you, eyeing you warily.

“I’m fine, Guppy, really.”

“If you aren’t eating, then you aren’t fine,” you scowled. “We’ll have to go see a doctor when we dock.”

“Guppy-”

“No buts,” you said firmly. “We’re going in the morning.”

“You know, you’ve caused not one, but two scenes on my ship now.”

You whirled around to meet a familiar green gaze. Jake’s lips were tugged into his signature smirk as he regarded you. Your cheeks once again warmed under his gaze, and you pursed your lips as you gazed back at the water before you.

“Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” he chuckled. “It’s fun having a fiery little thing like yourself on board. Keeps things from growing monotonous.”

“I’m glad I could at least serve as your entertainment,” you muttered with a roll of you eyes. He appeared beside you, resting up against the edge of the ship as he continued to watch you. It was just the two of you on the deck, the rest of the crew having moved down into the galley for dinner. You had stayed behind to bask in a rare moment of solitude, but now you welcomed the company.

“It’s better than nothing, I suppose,” he hummed thoughtfully.

“I want to be treated like a regular member of your crew, captain.”

He threw his head back with a hearty laugh, his voice almost echoing off the walls.

“Pretty girl, that is the last thing you want.”

You turned to him with a scowl. It grew deeper as his smirk widened, and you felt the creeping coolness of night crawl across your skin as the sun began to sink below the horizon.

“And why is that?” You demanded, raising your chin at him in defiance. His gaze dropped down for a moment before he locked his gaze back with yours, leaning in closer. He was so close that you could feel his breath tickle the skin of your cheeks, and you sucked in a breath.

“Because,” he drawled, his nose brushing yours. “If you were one of my men, I’d have you walk the plank for even sneaking on here in the first place.”

You snorted, but sobered when his face remained impassive.

“You can’t be serious.”

“As the dead, darlin’.”

He pushed away from you, sauntering over to pick up a board lying off to the side. With a grunt, he lifted it, placing it at the opening where the gangway would normally sit. He secured it down, and once he was sure that it was steady, he turned to you expectantly. You stared at him, unsure of what to do, and he raised an eyebrow at you.

“You want to be treated as a regular member of the crew, don’t you?” He taunted, the faintest hint of humor still in his eyes. You pursed your lips, throwing your shoulders back as you marched towards him. You eyed the wooden board warily, glancing back at the blond who looked at you expectantly. You turned back around, taking a hesitant step onto the board.

“You’re not going to back out?” He called to you as you took a couple more steps, now standing precariously over the water. You glanced back at him.

“Not on your life, captain,” you smirked. “I want to be a member of this crew.”

The humor was gone from his face as he watched you take another step, his lips pressed into a thin line. You were at the edge now, and you looked back at him with a brow raised in challenge.

“Dammit, alright,” he grumbled, eyes darting between you and the water below. “You’ve proven your point. Just get back over here.”

You smiled triumphantly, carefully maneuvering to turn around and head back when a sudden gust of wind knocked you off your balance. You stumbled back, but there was nothing there to catch you and you caught the briefest glimpse of Jake’s eyes widening in shock as you plummeted to the depths below.

The water was cold, shocking you when you hit the waves. You were suspended for a moment, panic not having set in yet. Swirls of blue blurred your vision, nonexistent shadows reaching up from the deep to grab at you.

You scrambled towards the surface, kicking your legs in a desperate attempt for air. You felt a hand wrap around your upper arm, dragging you upwards until you broke the surface. You sucked in a lungful of air, eyes darting around until they landed on Jake’s form next to you.

“Are you alright?” He asked, looking you over. You nodded, not entirely sure if you were or not, but knowing that you were still alive. Jake breathed out a sigh of relief as he turned to look back at the ship. You heard the distant sound of shouting, becoming hyper aware of Jake’s arms wrapped around you as the two of you bobbed with the waves.

“Lucky for you,” he continued, “Javy saw you fall and moved the crew to action while I dove in after you.”

You didn’t say anything, starting to shiver as the adrenaline caught up with you. Without thinking, you rested your head against his chest, seeking out the warmth he gave off. You could have sworn his grip tightened, but you heard the sound of one of the life boats hitting the water, and relief sank over you.

Moments later, Reuben was reaching his hands out to grab you, Jake passing you to him as he helped lift you into the boat. You tumbled onto the floor, landing at Mickey’s feet as he scrambled to wrap a blanket around you. Jake landed next to you, waving off Reuben as he began to inspect you more thoroughly.

“I’m fine,” you muttered as he ran his hands over your arms. He ignored you, brow furrowed in silent concentration. When he was sure that you were fine, he nodded at the two other men.

“Let’s get back to the ship.”

Humiliation washed over you as you were once again standing on the main deck. Bradley was front and center, dashing over to you to conduct his own investigation into your well being. You pouted, eyes refusing to leave the floor. You could feel the stares on your drenched form, and you struggled to keep from shivering in the cool night air. A rustling came from behind you, and you jumped when a heavy coat was draped over you. Jake must have shrugged it off before diving in after you because it was still dry as it sat on your shoulders.

You turned, seeing Jake fixing the crew with a glare.

“What are you all staring at?” He asked coldly, leveling each man with a stare. “Get back to work or out of my sight.”

The rest of the crew quickly scrambled to obey, none of them daring to give you another look as Jake rested a hand on your shoulder. You burrowed into the warmth of the leather, inhaling the scent that lingered. Clean linen and a hint of musk. It should have worried you how it set your mind at ease almost instantly.

“Guppy, what were you thinking,” harped Bradley, brushing wet strands of hair out of your face. You stared at him, feeling Jake stiffen behind you. Refusing to meet the brunette’s eyes, you offered him a slight shrug.

“Must have leaned too far over the railing, Roo,” you muttered, your fingers fidgeting with the ends of the coat. “It won’t happen again.”

Bradley didn’t seem convinced, but didn’t say anything as he glanced up at Jake.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Jake grumbled, his hand tightening slightly on your shoulder. You watched him gesture towards someone, and Natasha popped up to stand beside you.

“See to it she gets some rest,” he told her, his eyes glancing to you before landing back on her. She nodded, wrapping her arms gently around you as she began to guide you towards the cabins.

“Guppy.”

You stopped, turning back to look at him. His sea-green eyes wandered over you, his jaw flexing like he was mulling over what to say. He locked eyes with you, and you once again caught a flash of swirling blue before it disappeared. You frowned, wondering what you just saw, but Jake shook his head, letting out a sigh.

“Get some sleep. You’ll need it.”

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[mio-actuallywrites]

The World You Once Loved 2

Apparently being in your world is still surprising for you.  PREVIOUS NEXT

2/?

//Reader lives in Japan.  not proofread

Fyi through out all these parts NO book 7 spoilers.  also I assure you next part I will try to make it longer!!

Apparently 8 months in Twisted Wonderland means 16 on Earth. And those 16 you have spent in a coma. Apparently your Roommate Oboko said you had got ran over by a car and have been in a coma ever since. 

She had also told you the night before you woke up, items had appeared in your room, apparently in your suitcase. (Haha I wonder why)

After the doctor came in, checked on your vitals and health you were told you needed to stay a day or more in the hospital. So after getting to eat earth food again, thinking about what you missed in that last year, thinking about all those memories and how they are doing right now you were ready to go back. 

After getting Oboko to drive you to your place, you finally entered the house you thought you would never return too. 

After entering the front door, your eyes immediately trailed to all around the house, all the furniture was the same, but it was werid to see new and not old furniture, I guess living in Ramshackle caused you to get used to the sometimes uncomfortable and dusty furniture. 

“All are you going to enter?” Obokos voice rang in your mind as she suddenly lightly pushed you in, bringing you out of your shock. 

“Sorry Oboko-Chan I’m just still in… shock you know??” You replied hoping she would just shrug it off. 

“It’s fine, however I have your phone with me if you wanted it, I was gonna give it to you in the car. But I wanted you to get adjusted.” She replies as she hands you the phone. “I’ll be in my room if you need me!” She yelled as she left. 

You stood there for a second as you grabbed your phone and went to sit on the couch. 

You put in the password you would never forget, no matter how many worlds you been in you will always remember. *insert password* seeing as you logged in, you had million of notifications, filled with texts, updates and snaps that were left unseen for the months you were gone. 

You opened up Magi- no Instagram and viewed every news peice you missed. The new Taylor Swift album, the new update to Genshin, the upcoming movies, new trends etc. It seems like it will take AWHILE to catch up on all of those events. 

After looking through the app you decided to go into your room, and see the place you thought you would never see again. 

However right when you entered the first thing you noticed was the luggage you clearly packed a few days ago. You went over to the luggage and opened it, once you opened it the first thing you saw was the picture of you and the first years + Grim. You guys were all at Ramshackle probably at a sleepover. 

Under the photo you found your diary you kept that you bought at Sam’s shop. It was filled to the brim with the 8 months you spent there, going from your first unbirthday party to (Something that happend in chapter 7)

After picking up the diary and putting it on your desk, you grabbed your school uniform, and hung it up. Once you hanged up your school uniform in your closet you then grabbed the photo and hung it up next to your desk. 

Thinking about what to do with your life now that you finally returned after it being your goal for so long. But wasn’t completing a goal make you happy?

Today marks the 1st anniversary since you left. If you were right it had been six months since you left in Twisted Wonderland. Your friends were now 2nd years and some were about ready to graduate. And again, If you were right, they were in the middle of finals, since you left during that period. 

Yes although you did have the period of tears, and overwhelming sadness of leaving all of those memories behind, right now you were living your BEST life right now. 

While you were in your 3rd year of Highschool. Like Night Raven, you stayed at the High School with your Childhood friends, Oboko and Saki. Yes you did have your fun with them, but what about those past memories that you dearly loved and held at your heart?

“Reader? Are you there? We still have work to attend to and close shop, not zone out.” Your co-worker snapped at you. 

“Sorry Keiko, I tend to a lot.” You responded, although it was a little bit of a lie, you would still cling onto those memories from time to time. 

“Anyways, I’ll finish the dishes you start locking up.” She responded, completely ignoring your response. 

You nodded in response and left the Cafe’s kitchen to go lock up all the windows, doors, blah blah whatever this job paid good that’s all you cared about. 

After quickly finishing it up, you walked to the back door walking past Keiko who was still washing dishes, you were always fortunate when you didn’t have to. (Who even likes washing dishes???)

“Bye Keiko! See you tomorrow!” 

She had mumbled a response as you left the door and entered your car. 

While jamming out to the new album of your favorite artist, the drive home was relatively short. Basically 5 minutes.

You pulled into the driveway and couldn’t wait to get into your home. All that felt nice was a nice warm shower and watching your favorite episodes of your favorite show/anime. With a cup of hot chocolate on the side. 

As soon as you entered the dorm avoice hit you. 

“Hey, reader, just like 5 minutes ago there were some people saying they knew you and kept assisting them. I don’t know if you know them but the acted like they knew you for a while or so. They are in the kitchen currently because they acted like they haven’t eaten in awhile. Uh please be safe?”

/ENDING WAS RUSHED, once I have time I’ll go back and edit. 

[nininikki]

𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐘, 𝐌𝐑. 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 | eren jaeger x black fem!reader

I. delightful little laughs and golf excursions

✧ summary! — upon meeting one another, you and governor eren jaeger struggle to deal with the onslaught of mutual attraction that inevitably follows.

✧ warnings! — mentions and consumptions of alcohol, adultery (eren is an aspiring cheater), golfing (🏌🏽), an arranged-ish marriage, age gap—reader is 29 and eren is 40, smut—handjob, heavy petting, making out.

✧ author’s note! — this part is the first of what is hopefully many. updates will be sporadic but hopefully still very entertaining. & i already know what you’re thinking, eren can’t be potus bc he’s german blah blah yeah well eren can’t do much of anything bc he died so let’s just be delulu together. lmk if i missed anything in the warnings.

✧ word count! — 4.7k

14 MAY, SIX MONTHS AFTER THE PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION

the wings of a baby red bird whispered clumsily through the brisk noon air. without thinking, almost reflexively, you blew the bird a bout of kisses. good luck, you’d thought to yourself, hoping to quell the sick feeling curling in your stomach. though, it was only lunch with mikasa, so how much luck would you need?

a secret service agent escorted you to your table, where mikasa was already sitting. her lips, stained with crimson, stretched into a smile so wide her face could’ve cramped. “(y/n), i’m so glad you could make it!”

mikasa stood and enveloped you in a hug, the flowery scent of her perfume nearly making you vomit where you stood. “oh, don’t even mention it. the pleasure was mine.” pulling away from her embrace, you smiled to ebb the sick feeling. “besides, it’s been forever since we had lunch. y’know, with the election and all.”

“well, yes, being the first lady is quite the job.” mikasa…almost giggled. a childish, giddy, schoolgirl giggle that felt out of place coming from her thirty-nine year old mouth. that coupled with the way the diamonds in her glimmering wedding band caught the sunlight and nearly blinded you when she pushed a short lock of hair away from her face. if only she knew how greatly she tormented you without even knowing it.

swallowing the saliva that had pooled at the sides of your tongue, you smile again. “i can only imagine.” and god, if you hadn’t spent a considerable amount of time doing just that.

the moment you both slid back into your seats, a waiter made his way across the lawn and next to your table, a bottle of wine in his hands and ready to be poured into your respective glasses.

“no wine for me, actually.” mikasa said to the waiter, despite keeping her gaze trained on you the entire time. “a sparkling water will do.”

and when he turned to you, “i’ll have what she’s having—the sparkling water. and can you add a lemon slice?”

“of course, ma’am. it’ll be right out.”

“not drinking, huh? that’s…new. i like it.” mikasa joked just as soon as the waiter was out of earshot.

you let the words fall gracefully, naturally off your tongue. not rehearsed or practiced at all. “don’t get your hopes up. i’m trying out the whole method acting thing. fuckin’ sucks, i tell you.”

the waiter was back, setting two glasses of sparkling water on the table. “well, if anyone can do it, it’s you.” you both raised your glasses in a silent toast before taking the first few sips.

it definitely quelled the nausea you were feeling, so you drank and drank and drank until you looked down at the cup and saw there was only ice and dripping condensation left to show for it. “sorry. i haven’t eaten, i guess.” you explained, humiliatingly breathless.

“trust me, i know the feeling. can you get her a refill?” mikasa requested, and the waiter quickly obeyed, taking your glass and heading off again.

for a moment, there was only the sound of leaves whistling through the wind, an occasional singsong of birds, and the fizzing of mikasa’s drink across from you. until she cleared her throat, a loud ahem slicing through the false sense of tranquility you’d trapped yourself in.

“let’s not beat around the bush, (y/n). you know and i know that i didn’t just invite you here for nothing. so let me just be straight with you.” it was all happening too quickly for you. all the words coming from her mouth, all the feelings you were supposed to be feeling—all delayed to make way for numbness more painful than anything. because you knew what she was about to say. it was just a matter of whether or not you could control what would happen after she did. “i know you’re fucking my husband, and i want you to stop.”

***

7 JULY, FOUR MONTHS BEFORE THE PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION

look a man straight in the eye when you shake his hand. your mother had always told you that, but you’d never understood the importance of it. up until now.

until you were shaking hands with the governor of california and trying not to crumble under the intensity of his gaze. a gaze so fervent and piercing it was en route to perforating whatever it was that shielded your soul.

“lovely to meet you.” his voice was syrup. soft and smooth and saccharine and dripping into your ears with every word he spoke. “you’re even more beautiful in person.”

so are you, you wanted to say. and it was true. he’d been at the forefront of every news channel and magazine for the past year or so. and up there, he was all pretty eyes and luscious hair and ivy league-educated words. up close…up close, he was different.

as your gaze slid down the thick, almost shiny locks of his hair, you felt your hand—the one currently in the snug grasp of his shake—twitch with the urge to reach out and touch it. to slide the pad of your thumb down a strand, or perhaps thread all of your fingers through the dark mass of waves and revel in that sensation alone.

could he feel the pulse in your wrist begin to pick up speed when you let your eyes roll over the prominent bridge of his nose? or the full, pillowy curves of his lips? of course, you couldn’t stare there for too long. or you’d run the risk of wanting to kiss him, and god only knows what that could lead to.

and did he notice the skin of your palms become sticky with sweat when you finally let yourself look into his eyes? they were a haze of blue-green darkness. hypnotic, oceanic irises growing thinner and thinner as they stretched around the steadily dilating expanse of inky black that were his pupils, making for a sight that—for lack of a better phrase, and because you could actually feel your airways being blocked with unadulterated awe—took your breath away.

if anyone was more beautiful in person, it couldn’t not be him. however, you’d bitten your tongue, settling for, “you’re too sweet, mr. governor.” your voice, a soft peal of laughter that you assured only indicated the utmost professionalism.

“un-unh.” he released your hand from his grip, and you weren’t prepared for the onslaught of goose flesh spreading over your arms when his palms settled over the skin there. “it’s eren. call me eren.” you sure as hell weren’t prepared for him to embrace you in a friendly hug and kiss on the cheek.

you laughed a delightful little laugh. one that surely couldn’t be conveyed as anything but amiable. “only if you call me (y/n).”

“well, (y/n), my wife and i are big fans of your work.”

at the mention of your friend, you took your guilty eyes off him, and let yourself be flung back into reality. back to the party you were currently attending, with its nearly blinding beams of camera flash, sweet drips of champagne spilling past your lips, and wispy tendrils of smoke curling through the air.

the party where you’d originally come to just look pretty and stuff your face with hors d'œuvres, but were interrupted by a tap on the shoulder and a face all too familiar and smiling to be any perfect stranger.

mikasa ackerman—the laidback teacher’s assistant you’d sparked a friendship with your entire senior year at harvard. the girl you considered a very close friend and mentor from the week you met up until the day you graduated, soon after which the two of you lost all contact. but you hadn’t sweated it. you were too busy pursuing your acting career, she was too busy becoming a lawyer. and the governor’s wife, apparently.

“god, i haven’t seen you in ages.” her cheeks were tinted in a cheery blush, mouth turned up in a lopsided grin, an empty champagne flute balanced clumsily between her fingers. “well, not in person at least.” her wide, megawatt smile was the last thing you saw before she hugged you as if you had never stopped being friends. “but you’re in all those big movies, y’know. it’s like every time i turn on the TV, there you are.”

you blinked bashfully down at your feet, a gentle smile playing at your lips. “don’t make me blush.”

“oh, nonsense.” she rocked back and forth on her feet, running her fingers through her dark pixie cut. “y’know, my husband never believes me when i say we used to know each other.”

“when’d you get married?” your mouth picked up in a delighted smile, recalling distant, collegiate memories of mikasa wanting, ‘partnership and a powerful husband, in that order.’

she stood on her tiptoes, beckoning someone over with a fervent wave of her arm. “uh, close to four years ago, maybe. don’t quote me, though. i’ve had one or two.” what you weren’t expecting was for the governor of california to stroll over, a little tipsy and equally disoriented from the crowd he’d just emerged from, his gaze alight with something you couldn’t quite place when it landed on the two of you. mikasa interlocked your arms, her voice an ecstatic slur. “see, baby! i told you i knew her!”

***

you’d stumbled into your home that night with remnants of the party still stuck to your skin and an invite to lunch at the jaeger’s country club the following week.

***

14 JULY

“i always knew you were bad at sports, but golf? really?” mikasa chimed, her lips pulled apart in uncontrollable laughter as your golf ball swerved clumsily around the course.

when eren’s husky laugh floated into your ears, you could feel them toasting with embarrassment and shame. because your eyes had taken to feasting themselves upon him at the most inappropriate times.

because just as you were about to swing your club, there your eyes were, trailing over his towering figure. his hair, usually parted and coiffed to perfection, sat a little messier today, perfectly curtaining the gently chiseled edges of his face. his bottom lip, plush and pink, confined between busy teeth, making for a sight that sent a blush down your neck.

all that went without mentioning the sleeves of his oxford tee—rolled neatly up at the elbows and showcasing the perfect definition of his forearm as he leaned over on the handle of his golf club.

you swiped your tongue across your bottom lip in misplaced concentration. the expensive watch glinting around his wrist sending your lips up in a tiny smirk. because he was just your type. so handsome and so kind and so…

a tangible rope of guilt strung itself around your neck as your eyes traced over the gold wedding band on his finger. a symbol of perpetual love and unity that you were practically defacing as you continued to drool over him in the presence of his wife.

so, when it was time for you to swing your club, you’d spooled yourself in a web of distraction and ended up missing horribly.

“must be the wind.” you said, hoping that the bursts of laughter that followed would be enough to distract you from the guilt.

***

“here, let me help you.” eren offered, purely out of the kindness of his heart. not because of the way you stood there, the golf club perched sweetly in your grip with not a clue in the world how to use it. not because of how pretty you looked today—the delightful hem of your opaque-shaded skirt coming to a halt in the middle of your thighs and contrasting perfectly with the smooth darkness of your black top.

not because of the smile stretching across your face—so beautiful, pearly, and white that it nearly took one of his eyes out. not because of his budding attraction that had sprouted the moment you caught his notice on a silver screen and had only gotten worse when he’d laid eyes on you in the flesh. and certainly not because mikasa, his wife, for god’s sake, had stepped back inside for one reason or another—to powder her nose or something—and inadvertently granted him a moment alone with you for the very first time.

“listen, mr. governor—”

“—eren.”

“eren. listen. i may not golf every weekend like you weirdos,” you joked, and he couldn’t help the grin gracing his face. “but i know my way around a club, alright.”

“yeah, sure looked like it.”

you went silent for a moment, tongue clicking around in your mouth while your gaze wandered elsewhere. “fine.” you sighed out, faux exaggerating an eye roll and pout. “show me the reins, or whatever.”

***

that was how you had gotten here. the callused palms of governor eren jaeger pressed up against the backs of your hands under the guise of helping you swing a golf club. except there was no guise, and the feeling of having his hands on yours again had your mind nestled in delusion.

“okay, now, hit it.” he said, the words lowered an octave and trickling with honey as he uttered them into your ear. “aht, aht. remember,” his grip grew a bit tighter on your hands just as you were about to swing. “softly, just like i said. don’t think you’re advanced enough to do it any other way.” a teasing lilt colored his tone.

“i think you’re just holding me back, governor.” at that, you stole your eyes away from the union of your hands and blinked them shyly in his direction.

“eren, please.” if he was saying please, his eyes certainly didn’t convey it. “or i’ll have to start calling you esteemed actress, (y/n) (l/n).”

“you think i’m esteemed? don’t flatter me.”

“you don’t wanna know what i think about you.”

delighted heaps of air passed through your nose and mouth a couple times before you realized you were giggling. giggling like a blushing virgin on her first date over a few simple words. what was he doing to you?

your teeth dug deep into your bottom lip. “are you implying something, eren?”

eren neglected to answer, only staring at you whilst smoothing the pad of his thumb over the back of your hand. “now, on my count, you’re gonna putt it, alright.”

“mhm,” you hummed, forcing yourself to look back down at the ball.

“one, two,” you kept your eye strained on the ball. despite the heady scent of his cologne burning through your nostrils more prominently than ever. despite the very foreign, yet also very very welcome, feeling of his hands on you. “three.”

on his count, you putted the ball just as he’d instructed. was it an exaggeration to say you could feel your pupils dilating? reducing your irises to mere rings of color as they followed the movements of the ball?

it rolled into its intended hole with a satisfactory thunk, and you could feel eren shoot you an i told you so gaze so prominent it felt as though it had grown legs and crawled over your back.

you pursed your lacquered lips. “i could’ve done that in my sleep. just distracted, that’s all.”

as the words left your mouth, you became acutely aware of the distance—or lack thereof—between you and this very married man. sucking a sobering breath through your nose, you detangled your hands from his with as little awkwardness to spare as possible.

***

“what the hell are you doing in my house?”

peeling your boots off, you padded into the conversation pit where your manager was sitting. chowing down at a subway sandwich with hardly enough time to breathe between bites.

“i’m your manager.” they said, voice muffled with bread and meat and sauce. “what kinda manager would i be if i didn’t make arbitrary visits?”

“the kind that respects my privacy.” you made a seat for yourself beside them, examining the bag to see what they’d gotten you. “and besides, these visits are never arbitrary. you’ve always got a reason.” meaty, cheesy delight filled your nostrils as you pulled your sandwich from the bag. they had delivered your favorite, and that was enough to hear them out. even if… “usually a bad one.”

“i guess i do.” hange sighed, shaking the ice around in their cup of mountain dew. “so, i’m assuming you know why i’m here.”

chewing like a woman starved, you shook your head. “i’ve got no idea. been on my best behavior.”

“oh, really? well, allow me.” hange gingerly wiped their fingers of sandwich remnants and pulled something from their nearby briefcase.

a magazine. one that had your face on it, which wasn’t anything foreign. although for whatever reason your face was on it must’ve been what had hange in this frenzy.

the headline read, HOLLYWOOD HARLOT MOVES ON TO POLITICIANS accompanied by a photo snapped of you and eren meeting for the first time. locked in what page six would probably call, a steamy gaze. although, what other way was there to describe it? if you hadn’t known any better, you looked like a pair of star crossed lovers separated by war. or something.

“eren jaeger? him? him?” hange’s face was more angry than disappointed, which was good enough in its own right. “out of all the politicians, you sleep with the married one who’s running for president?”

you steadfastly defended, “i didn’t sleep with anybody.” although what you actually did wasn’t much better.

“look at this, (y/n)!” hange jabbed a finger at the image before pushing deep breaths through their nose. “he’s looking at you like he’s never seen a woman before.”

you denied, taking a sip of their mountain dew. “he was starstruck, hange.”

“that’s not what they think.” per usual, hange didn't waste a breath dismissing you. “they think you’ve moved on from sleeping with movie producers to politicians. which is really, really bad.”

“yeah, i’m aware, but still. it’s not true.”

“these people don’t know this. don’t care, either.” hange threw the magazine hazardlessly over your coffee table, pushing their glasses over their hairline. a usual indication of their utmost seriousness. “look, with a little threatening—”

“—threatening?”

“yeah. slander, defamation, whatever charges i could think of. not the point. i got them to scrap the story.”

your head fell atop their shoulder in unimaginable relief, arms releasing tension you didn’t even know was there. “thank—”

“—but, i don’t always know how well that’ll work, so please.”

“please?”

hange took your hands in a vice grip, probably hoping to squeeze some sense into them. “stop making politicians fall in love with you.”

***

21 JULY

did you have him under a spell? there was no way to exactly prove that. but eren exhibited all the signs of a man charmed. yes, charmed. there wasn’t a more perfect way to put it than that. you had charmed him. with your dazzling laugh and your perfect hair and all those funny things you said that made him completely forgo the fact he was running for the highest office in the land.

every day following your little golf excursion, you had made dutiful work at setting up shop in the confines of his head. occupying his every passing thought with the sound of your laugh, embedding his psyche with the memory of your hands in his, rendering him completely oblivious to the wedding band on his finger with just a twinkle of your eye.

no, that last part was on him and him alone.

now, he’d be the first to admit that his marriage to mikasa was a strange one. her parents knew his, and when he met her, he could already kind of tell he was going to marry her. and not in the phony, sappy, hallmark greeting card way, no.

but in the way that meant he was thirty-three, still unmarried, and could see this as his parents’ way of throwing a bride at him. the idea wasn’t all that unappealing. mikasa was beautiful, smart, and quick-witted, and eren could see himself falling in love with her. hell, parts of him had. the little naive ones, but still.

but the little spark was gone. y’know the one that ignited in his belly whenever she kissed him on the cheek? or took his hand in hers? or whispered sweet nothings in his ear? it was gone. he guessed that was a side effect of marrying someone you didn’t really like all that much.

they eventually managed to become two people that lived together and occasionally had sex. some of which was pretty good, all of it in an attempt to get mikasa pregnant at some point later in the year. only five presidents had been childless throughout their term, and eren was unlikely to be the sixth. but he couldn’t speak too soon. his approval ratings told a different story.

still, regardless of whether he loved mikasa or not, eren had a respectable amount of resolve. he wouldn’t step out on his wife because a twenty-something-year old looked at him with eyes that were bespeckled with midas’ touch. no matter how beautiful or funny she was.

so, why was he standing here? here being the middle of his bedroom, staring into his eighty inch TV screen as if it contained the cure for cancer or something.

“do you like it when i touch you here?”

oh. that was why. he’d mindlessly turned on the television as he toweled himself off, not even noticing one of your films had been playing until his ears caught the familiar tone of your laugh. given the recent state of his mind, (and how frequently you occupied it) even a simple laugh was enough to have his neck snapping in the direction of the screen. but it wasn’t any simple laugh.

it was nearly identical to the way you’d laughed during your golfing stint the other way. identical in its coquettish cadence. identical in the way it spilled easily out of your lips.

“mmm, yeah.”

except you weren’t playing golf with the man on screen. you were letting him slide his palm up the expanse of your inner thigh until the skirt of your dress began to crumple and bunch around your upper legs.

you were spreading your legs around the movements of his hand and parting your lips so he could slip his tongue into your mouth. you were pulling him forward by the meat of his biceps, and at the same time, he was taking you into his lap and sliding the straps of your dress down your shoulders.

the camera then cut to a single shot of your face, crumpled with unbridled, purely pornographic pleasure. it wasn’t long before eren found himself enraptured with the sight: your lacquered lips parted to make way for an outpouring of contented sighs. the translucent and nearly invisible pearl of sweat beading at your hairline. the unfocused picture of your hands carding through your companion’s hair.

one could nearly call it a vision.

nearly.

because the next scene was of you again. face sated with contentedness as you stumbled through the throes of slumber, some sort of dream premiering beneath the lids of your eyes.

that was the real vision. a fact eren and his slowly hardening cock could get attested to.

then, mikasa was walking into the room. she glanced at the TV. “isn’t she amazing in this?” she asked, a happy tone accompanying her smile.

“i haven’t really seen it.” eren admitted. he actually had seen a number of your films (three to be exact), but you did have quite a few of them. that wasn’t even including the new one set to premiere in just a couple of weeks. at that thought, eren considered the possibility of calling and congratulating you. an option that was as outlandish as it was stupid.

call you. so he could do…what, exactly? make a fool of himself just for the sake of hearing your voice? though, he wouldn’t consider himself too above that. he had unabashedly flirted with you with his wife less than a mile away. not to mention the erection dimpling the meat of his inner thigh.

and what was more? he was running for president! he wasn’t in his twenties anymore. the days of newborn love and hopeful courting were long behind him and if he planned on being elected, surely it should stay that way.

mikasa slid into bed, her lithe body sheathed in the creamy silk of a nightgown and stretching under the cover of the sheets. “well, you should. it’s some of her best work.”

you’re telling me.

***

eren had ventured back into the bathroom to change into his pajamas. as well as rinse the horniness from his system via splashes of brisk water, an attempt so futile he couldn’t help but scoff at himself.

“we should call her.” mikasa suggested upon eren’s return to their bedroom. “y’know, congratulate her on the movie. maybe have her over for dinner after the primary.”

but eren could tell by the spectacles sitting gingerly over mikasa’s nose and the tell-tale scrawling of her pen in her planner that it was no longer a suggestion. the plan had seeded itself within her mind, and therefore bloomed to fruition in reality. “i’ll have floch set it up, yeah?”

“‘m all for it, honey.” eren murmured, stamping her temple with a kiss as he slid into bed next to her.

***

it was only a few moments later when mikasa set aside her planner and glasses.

“i know how stressful it’s been.” the cold and soft palms of her hands found themselves on eren’s neck, scaling down the planes of his clothed chest and just whispering at the hem of his pants. “with the election and all.”

eren slid a tentative hand around her wrist, head shrouded in rapidly blooming feelings of guilt. “mikasa, what’re you doin’?”

“just wanna help.” she breached past the soft flannel, fingers threading through the soft mount of curls at his base. “will you let me do that, honey?”

mikasa’s fingertips kissed the skin of his inner thigh, and the strangled moan that bubbled from eren’s throat seemed to be affirmative enough for her.

she wrapped her digits around him, breathing out, “see, you’re already so hard. just let me…” a delighted exhale tunneled through her nostrils, eyes brimming with contented triumph as she dealt him that first stroke. “let me make you feel good.”

it had only been a short while when eren let his eyes flutter to a close, and an even shorter while when you began to blanket every thought in his head. he really had no business thinking of you. in fact, that was probably the last thing he needed to do. but god, how he wanted you.

how he wanted you here, sitting above him and handling him just the way he needed. he distantly recalled the way your hands looked the other day—soft and small and barren of any jewelry. how they felt in his hands and how they’d feel around his dick. a hiss whistled through his teeth and the grip he had on mikasa’s hand spasmed.

“tell me how good it feels.” mikasa cooed, taking her other hand and swiftly maneuvering that same grip over to her breast. and eren wasted no time letting the doughy flesh spill between his fingers, feeling her nipple harden beneath the pad of his thumb as hazily kneaded it.

eren just had to screw his eyes a little shut tighter, and it was you. laying above him, holding him in your hands, whispering all those sweet nothings in his ear as you brought him closer and closer to his peak.

and, oh, was he close. so close that all he had to do was think of the way your mouth formed around your laugh, or how good it felt to touch your hands, or the way your lips formed around the words, “mr. governor.”

sparks bursted behind his eyes as he came. shaky breaths wracking his chest and uncharacteristic noises flying from his lips as he rode out his high. all while holding back the urge to call out your name.

while still trying to feasibly pump breaths through his lungs, mikasa took him in a messy kiss. so messy that it would’ve bordered on lazy if she hadn’t mounted herself atop his dampened lap almost immediately after.

“c’mon, honey.” an ecstatic grin broke across her face as she pulled her tank top over her head. “i think tonight may be the night.”

© NININIKKI. do not translate, copy, or modify my works in any way shape or form.