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missjomarch · 6 months

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Josephine - Luke Hughes

A/N: This is the longest thing I have ever written. Like actually. I heard the song Josephine by Pony Bradshaw and my brain was begging me to do something creative with it, so I wrote this. But I'm on my period so it turned very sad and angsty quickly. So now you all get to suffer along with me! With that said please please read the warnings and if at any point you feel uncomfortable click away.

Word Count: 3.7k 😳

Warnings: Grief and angst with no real happy ending or comfort. Cursing, crying, mentions of blood and pain. A half second on 18+ content but no explicit details.

(Portions in italics are flash backs. Enjoy, lovelies. 🫶)

Luke Hughes sat sprawled in one of the cushioned armchairs spaced across the rooftop bar the New Jersey Devils currently resided on. His view of the New York skyline was fuzzy, but he wasn’t sure if it was because of the beer in his left hand or the smoke from the joint in his right. The one thing he was sure of was that he didn’t want to be here, and he damn sure didn’t want to be sober. Luke could feel the pitying looks from his brother and captain all the way across the bar, but at least they hadn’t made any comments tonight.

The team had won the game earlier in the day by a large margin and Luke wasn’t beating himself up over minuscule mistakes like he used to. No, that wasn’t the issue. In fact, Luke was playing some of the best hockey he had in years. His on-ice performance was probably the only reason he was even still on the team, considering that he had been skipping most morning skates and all public appearances for the past few weeks.

He had seen the therapist the team provided and taken the weeks off that the trainers had suggested, so he isn’t sure why they insist on continually doing mental checkups on him. It was irritating. Especially when he didn’t give them the answers they wanted, so they sent Jack to pester him instead. All it did was remind him of you.

“Luke.”

His head snapped towards where you sat in the passenger seat of his car, eyes shining and a soft smile on your lips.

“The light has been green for like 30 seconds, babe. What’s going on in that pretty head, hm?”

Luke always swore that your sweet voice could melt 20 feet of snow in the dead of winter. It was like coming home from a long day to a warm house. It was one of his favorite things about you. So, because he knew you’d ask the question again, he simply shrugged his shoulders in response. He fully planned to keep his troubles to himself in an attempt not to worry you, but then your manicured hand was running through the curls at the nape of his neck.

“Tell me about it, Lu. What’s wrong?”

With your use of the nickname, he was gone. Suddenly all the world’s problems were spilling from his lips, and he couldn’t stop them even if he wanted to. You tended to have that effect on people. You were just so damn easy to talk to. And the best part? You almost always knew how to make it better. A quick kiss and a Band-Aid, and Luke was back on his way with a smile.

“Luke,” you mumbled, “Luke…”

“Luke.”

Jack stood in front of his brother, shaking his shoulder to break him from his trance.

“You okay?” Jack questioned, not missing the shine in Luke’s eyes as they were torn from the skyline view. He watched as Luke took a deep drag from the joint in his hand, exhaling the smoke as he attempted to clear the lump from his throat.

“Fine, Jack.”

“Bullshit,” Jack couldn’t help the scoff he let out, “Get up, we’re going home.”

Luke didn’t have it in him to argue. Not that he would have, anyway. He never wanted to leave the house in the first place, especially after the situation Jack got him into the last time they had gone out. 2 months ago, his brother had dragged him to this same rooftop bar insisting that it’d be good for him to get out there again. It took all of 30 minutes before Jack was pushing Luke in the direction of a random girl. “A good fuck will fix you right up”, Jack had claimed.

“Luuuuke,” the girl below him moaned as he kissed down her neck. He didn’t know her name, didn’t particularly care to either. He was a bit too busy resenting his brother for setting him up with this random girl in the first place.

He tried to ignore the hot anger flowing through him, tried to focus on the heavy breathing of the blonde and the way her nails were raking down his back. Luke’s hands dipped under her shirt, quickly finding her bra and giving it a harsh tug downwards. His fingers fumbled deftly until they gripped her tits, drawing a sharp gasp from the girl.

“Oh! Lu, please,” she whined. When he didn’t respond, she went to pull his face to hers. But Luke had froze, brain short circuiting at the nickname he hadn’t heard in over 8 months.

His throat was burning. His breath turned ragged as he yanked his hands from beneath her shirt. He stared at her with wild eyes, chest heaving.

“Get out,” he ground out. His heart was pounding. What was wrong with him?

“Are you okay?” The blond started back at him with a horrified expression, and Luke had to bite his tongue to keep from spitting out any malicious words. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Leave, please.” He begged, unable to look her in the face.

“Luke, I don’t understand,” she tried to reason, “Luke…”

“Luke.”

Jack was looking at him expectantly from the driver’s side of his sleek BMW as he navigated the late-night New Jersey traffic. Luke blinked slowly, trying to clear the bitter memory from his foggy mind.

“Sorry, what’d you say?” Luke questioned, choosing to ignore the concern blaring in his brother’s eyes. Jack seemingly decided to let it be, instead jumping back into whatever he originally asked.

“I was asking if you thought the stadium series would be a good time to introduce Sydney to mom and dad? I know it’s only been a few months, but I don’t know when they’ll be in town again.”

Luke nodded, “Are you just going to do it at dinner? Or the hotel?”

Jack hesitated, clearly contemplating the options before lighting up, “What if I brought her to the family skate? She’s been wanting to learn anyways! It be just like when you brought jo-” Jack choked on his words, immediately recognizing his mistake. He turned towards his brother, attempting to get a read on his face in the dim light of the passing streetlamps. But Luke had already shut down, face turned to stare blankly out the window.

Jack reached over to give a comforting squeezing to Luke’s left shoulder, “Luke.”

“LUKE!” you squealed as your hands white knuckled his sweatshirt. He giggled at your skating stance before pulling you to his chest.

“You alright there, Bambi?” He smirked down at you as you sent him a glare.

“I’m new to this, asshole. It’s not my fault my teacher is no good,” you threw back at him. It was your turn to smirk as Luke’s mouth hung open in mock offense.

“I’ll have you know that I’ve taught hundreds of kids across the state of New Jersey how to properly skate.”

“Those poor kids,” you quickly retorted, sticking your tongue out as he scowled at you. However, that scowl quickly faded into a look of mischief and your face dropped as his arms loosened around you.

“Fine. Suit yourself, Bambi.” Luke let you go, giving you the lightest of shoves backwards. Then you were stranded. Forced to watch as your boyfriend skated backwards away from you, leaving you wide eyed and terrified as you froze on the ice. Your fear quickly turned to anger, and Luke marked the shift in your demeanor with a laugh.

“Luke Warren Hughes, you come back here and get me right now.”

“Nope. Come and get me, baby.” Luke winked at you as he skated past, only serving to further frustrate you. You’d never admit that his plan was working, but the anger was motivating. You let out a strangled groan before starting to shuffle forward, sliding your skates like Luke taught you. You were doing well for a while, slowly making your way towards where Luke was taunting you from the boards behind the net. That was until two kids flew past you, knocking you off balance and sending you scrambling to regain it.

“Luke! Luke, Luke, Luke,” you called, too focused on your slipping feet to notice if your boyfriend was coming to your aid. Then you lost balance completely, tumbling down towards the ice. You closed your eyes as you avoided flinging your arms out to catch yourself, still heeding Luke’s warnings even as he got you in this mess in the first place. You prepared yourself for the cold hard burn of your backside hitting the ice, but it never came. Instead you landed in a pair of unfamiliar arms, barely recognizing that you weren’t on the ground before being hauled to a standing position. You carefully turned around and were met with Jack’s smiling face.

“Knight in shining armor, at your service,” Jack grinned, adding a small salute for effect. You rolled your eyes, scanning the ice for Luke.

“How long have you been following behind me?”

“Ever since Luke pretended to leave you stranded. He planned the whole thing, I was behind you the entire time to save you from your inevitable demise,” Jack poked you, smile growing impossibly wider at the annoyed look gracing your face.

“Big words for someone who never went to college,” you shot at him, needing anything to level the playing field between you. It was then that Luke finally returned, skating to a smooth stop to your left.

“What’d I miss?”

“Your girlfriend was insulting my intelligence after I graciously saved her precious be-hind,” Jack spoke, adding a bit more than his usual sassiness into the bit. Luke turned to tsk at you.

“Now, now baby. We can’t make fun of people just because they’re less fortunate than us. It’s not Jacky’s fault he’s stupid,” Luke joked, loving the way your eyes lit up when you realized that he was joining your side. Jack, however, stood slack jawed across from you.

“Now what the hell, Luke? I went along with your little plan, and this is how you repay me?” You and Luke just blinked at him, silly little grins sitting on your face. “Go to hell, both of you,” Jack scoffed before skating off. Once he was gone, you turned towards your boyfriend. Your pout returned, but it was quickly kissed away.

“I promised you I’d never let you fall, baby. I just never said it’d be me who caught you.”

You scowled, “you’re such a smart ass.”

“Love you too, Princess,” Luke grinned. You begrudgingly allowed him to pull you into his chest, the warmth he radiated melting the glare right off your face.

You turned your head to press a kiss into his jacket-clad chest, right over his heart. A warm smile graced your lips, “I love you, Lukey.”

“Lukey!”

John Marino stood before him on the ice, stick poised to do the defensive drill coach had instructed them on.

“You’re out of it today, kid. Are we going to do this drill or not?”

“Yeah, my bad. Let’s go,” Luke nodded his head, once again trying to shake the thoughts of you from his mind. He had just barely cleared his vision before the puck was dropped, and John was racing towards him. Practice continued like that, Luke losing focus periodically until one of his teammates pulled him back into the moment.

When he trudged into the locker room an hour later, he was more than ready to go home. These were usually the days he would most appreciate having you to come home to. Leaving a hard practice and coming home to fall asleep in your arms was the best feeling. He tried not to think too much about the gaping hole that memory left in his chest as he untied his skates.

Once he was dressed in his sweats he rushed from the locker room, hoping to escape the arena before anyone could question his mental wellbeing. Luke made it to the car without any hounding from the guys or trainers, but he had to wait for what felt like an eternity before Jack finally made his way into the parking garage.

“What the hell took you so long?” Luke questioned, hopping into the passenger seat as Jack unlocked the car doors.

“Coach wanted to talk to me for a second. You could’ve gotten the keys from my bag, yknow.”

“Yeah, but then I would’ve been tempted to leave you here,” Luke smirked at his brother.

Jack only rolled his eyes, all too familiar with Luke’s teasing. His mind swirled with the reminders his coach had left him with after their brief post-practice discussion. Coach was getting extremely concerned about Luke and the lack of focus he displayed at practice and games. Jack was also concerned, and so was most of the team. He knew he should bring it up, but the joy in Luke’s eyes was so rare these days that Jack couldn’t bring himself to disturb it. He just wanted to support his brother the best he could, but Luke wouldn’t open up to him. Or anyone, for that matter. Not his mom, not Quinn, not even his old teammates from Michigan. Luke wouldn’t talk to anyone about you. So Jack took what Luke gave him. Watching late night hockey, Door Dashing dinner, or playing video games for hours on end. Anything to keep his brother occupied, and make him realize that he wasn’t alone.

Luke finally made his way into his room at 11 pm later that night, feeling relatively okay after eating dinner and watching a Canucks game with Jack. He had felt so unlike himself lately that any small reprieve from reality was a welcomed gift. He also knew that it helped Jack worry about him just a little bit less.

Luke had just turned out his bathroom light after brushing his teeth when his door creaked open, revealing Jack standing in the doorway. It wasn’t unusual for Jack to check on him before bed, but it had recently become more frequent.

“You good to leave for practice at 8 tomorrow?” Jack questioned.

Luke nodded, “Yeah, I’ll be up.”

“Better be. I’m not in the mood to drag your ass out of bed in the morning.”

Luke rolled his eyes, but the wary look on Jack’s face made him hold his tongue on the snarky response he was about to shoot back.

“Promise, I’ll be good to go at 8.”

Jack deemed that a good enough answer, and went to shut the door.

“Alright. Night, Luke.”

“Luke…” you shakily whispered on the phone. Your voice was wobbly and high pitched, the tears streaming down your face evident in your tone.

“Baby?” Luke spoke into the phone, “What’s wrong?”

It was an hour and a half until puck drop, and you should’ve been on your way to the stadium by now. Luke’s furrowed brows caught the attention of Jack in the next stall over, stopping his movements from where he was lacing up his skates.

“I was on my way to the arena, and I…” a broken sob escaped your mouth, startling Luke as he tried to fathom what could’ve possibly happened after he left the house.

“Someone hit me.”

Luke jumped to his feet, “What do you mean hit you? What happened?”

“I don’t know. Someone ran a red light or something and they hit my car. I think I spun into a pole,” your breath was growing ragged as you recited the wreck.

“Are you okay? Where are you? I’m coming to get you,” Luke rushed out as he began grabbing his clothes back out of his bag. Half the locker room was staring now, all with varying looks of concern.

“I don’t know what to do. I’m bleeding,” you squeaked. “Lukey, there’s so much blood.”

This sent Luke into a panic. He was stripping his gear as fast as humanly possible while simultaneously yelling at Jack to give him to car keys. Jack’s concerns fell on deaf ears as Luke undressed, and he finally decided that following Luke was the safest option.

“No. You’re okay, baby. I just need you to tell me where you are, okay? I’ll be there so soon, just tell me where,” Luke begged. He knew logically that the cops would arrive before he could, but he needed to be there with you.

“Don’t know. But my head hurts so bad,” you whimpered out. Luke tried to ignore the way he could hear your voice weakening as you spoke.

“Just stay on the phone with me, love. I’m on my way to come get you, yeah?”

Luke tried to reassure you as he shoved his feet into his shoes and rushed from the locker room. Jack was hot on his tail, car keys in hand.

“ ‘m sorry, Lu,” your whisper was barely heard by Luke as he sprinted down the hallways of Prudential Center.

“For what, love?”

“I wanted to be at your game tonight,” you mumbled.

“It’s fine, baby. There’ll be a million more games for you to come to, yeah?”

Luke attempted to comfort you as he searched for your location, plugging it into the GPS as Jack pulled out of the parking garage. Luke could only hope the pregame traffic wouldn’t get in the way.

“Mhmm. Lukey?”

“Yeah, baby?”

Your voice was barely a whisper, “I love you.”

Luke swore he could feel his heart shatter at the crack in your voice. There were tears streaming from his face as he pushed Jack to drive faster.

“I love you too, princess. So much. Jacky and I are going to be there so soon. I just need you to hang on for a few minutes. Can you do that for me?”

Luke’s voice was frantic and only grew more so when he heard your phone tumbling out of your hand.

“Baby? You’ve gotta stay awake, okay?” Luke pleaded, as tears streamed down his face. His hands shook where he held the phone to his ear.

“Baby? Please tell me you’re okay. I just need you to say something.”

Luke’s begging continued until the line went dead.

“Fuck,” Luke muttered, sobs beginning to wrack his body. Jack looked at him frantically as he continued to navigate the streets of New Jersey.

“Luke? What the hell happened?” Jack kept spitting questions, but he might as well have been talking to a brick wall. “Snap out of it, Luke.”

“Luke.”

Luke awoke to Jack shaking him violently, and he tasted the salty tears streaming down his face before he felt them. ‘No. Not again,’ Luke thought. He shot up in bed, sending Jack scrambling backwards to avoid knocking heads. Luke’s head whipped back and forth wildly as his eyes searched the room. ‘Please, please, please,’ he begged the universe. He ignored the way his brain reminded him of the truth, ignored his brother’s pitying look, ignored the cold bed beside him where you should’ve been. It was if the whole world was pointing and laughing at his grieving heart. ‘Look at this idiot,’ they all seemed to say, ‘He still thinks he can save her.’

“Fuck,” Luke exhaled, finally giving up his futile attempts at disproving what he knew was his reality.

Jack stared as his younger brother lost himself to grief once again. Watching as Luke’s hands disappeared into his curls, head bowed as sob after sob wracked his body. Jack felt helpless knowing he couldn’t take this pain from his little brother. All he could do was hold him and promise to be there through it all.

“I can’t keep doing this,” Luke whispered into Jack’s shoulder. “Every time I wake up, I lose her all over again, and I can’t do it anymore.”

Jack hesitates, unsure exactly what to say in this situation. You were always the one with the best advice, the one who could handle anything.

“We’re going to get you through this, okay? You’re not alone in fighting this,” Jack paused, contemplating how to suggest his next thought. “I know you think you’re fine, but I really think you need help Luke. She would want you to get help.”

Luke nodded, knowing his brother was right. You would hate to see him like this. Ever the caretaker, you had always been the first person to chastise him for not taking proper care of his mental health during hockey season. If you saw him like this, you’d pull him into your arms and then absolutely rip him a new one until he promised to take care of himself.

“I know,” Luke mumbled, “I’ll start seeing a therapist. I think I need to step away from hockey for a bit too. It’s not fair to the guys that my mental health is affecting the team performance.”

“I think that’s smart,” Jack agreed. “The guys might not understand what you’re going through, but they know it’s not your fault Luke. They want you to get better too.”

Luke could only nod, trying to accept Jack’s words as the truth and fight the part of his brain that was saying this was all his fault. Luke was so tired, but he wasn’t willing to go back to sleep when he knew memories of you was what awaited him.

“I’ll call the trainers tomorrow. I don’t really want to go back to sleep, can we watch a movie or something?”

“Of course,” Jack agreed, despite the exhaustion weighing him down. “I’ll even let you pick.”

A slow, knowing grin spread across Luke’s features, “Even Secretariat?”

Jack’s sigh could be heard all the way in New York, but he smiled nonetheless. Just happy to see that Luke was making small steps towards returning to himself.

“Even Secretariat.”

So that’s how Luke and Jack spent their evening, watching movies and eating obscene amounts of popcorn. Luke had smiled to himself for most of the night, feeling a weight lifted off his shoulders. He knew the process would be slow and that he might never truly get back to ‘normal’. But admitting his pain and asking for help, that was enough for now.

#jay writes #luke hughes #nj devils #hockey

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boyfiechan · 4 months

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hiiiii

is there any chance you could do angst to fluff friends to lovers with chan with prompt 2? if not that’s ok 💕💕💕

thank you ❤️

Hi! Thank you for requesting, I kind of got a little carried away with the angst, sorry haha but please let me know what you think of it! <3

Click here to check out my prompt list.

In some way, you already knew this would happen.

Still, it made you terrified. It wasn't even the situation on its own, opening your door to him standing on the other side in the middle of one of the coldest nights of the year, looking so heartbroken and so confused that you can barely contain the need to embrace his body and confess all of the truth that, unbeknownst to him, has been eating you alive for the past few months. It was the aftermath of him learning about the secret you had tried so hard to keep hidden away, the one thing that could change absolutely everything between you two.

You fucked up, and you fucked up really bad.

Chan has been your closest friend for God knows how long at this point. You've shared so much of life together, seeing each other grow, experiencing new things, and learning about the intricacies of adult life and how complicated it is to simply exist sometimes. He was the one you always turned to—the one to drop everything and give you his complete attention when you needed to rant, the one to discuss your completely bizarre theories with, the one to call at the end of the day and share your random thoughts. The routine on nights like this would always be the same: both of you tucked under a pile of blankets on the floor of your living room, watching some sort of movie that neither of you knew anything about but decided on because the name or something in the poster was just so funny you couldn't ignore it. But it wasn't one of those nights, and it had been days since the last time he had even heard from you.

He didn't know.

And you didn't know, either. How could you even tell him how seeing him there made things so much harder than they already had been these last few weeks? How could you tell him that everything had changed, that the friendship you both adored and counted on so much would be completely ruined because your stupid, stupid heart decided to pick up on even the smallest of things he did? And now, after years of being his rock, his confidant, you betrayed it all by falling in love with him? You couldn't. It wasn't fair to him, it wasn't fair to you. It wasn't fair to the years and the secrets you shared with each other. It just wasn't.

And seeing him at your door, after you quickly brushed off all of his questions after accidentally picking up a call from him out of habit, you wanted to hide again. This is exactly what you have been doing since you noticed how your feelings changed towards him, after feeling your heart pick up astronomically as he simply laughed at a stupid video on his phone while you had dinner a few weeks ago. You hid away, rejecting calls, barely ever opening messages, and not answering any of them until you figured out a way to fix all of this.

What have I done? he asked so quietly you could have sworn your heart was sounding louder than his voice. His eyes searched for yours, silently begging for an explanation as to why you just left him so easily, why he's being cut away from your life all of a sudden. Please, you can't do this. Don't do this. Tell me what's wrong.

I love you, you think.

I don't know, you breathe out. You hate lying, hated lying to him even more, but it was for the best. It was easier to break your own heart than to break his.

Please don't lie to me. Please. His steps are so light and he moves so slowly you almost forget where you are. You can see his lips trembling a little, and he rubs his shaky hands as the night seems to get even colder. Can I come in? It's hard to speak. It's hard to think, even, and all you manage to do is step back as he makes his way in, barely even looking around. He doesn't go farther from the door, turning to look at you with a sort of emotion that you can't quite read on his face. What changed?

I love you. Your voice is barely there. It's hard to get it out, hard to even hear it in your own voice. The door is closed, yet your living room seems even colder than outside—you can feel his perfume and his shampoo and your heart breaking all at once and it's too much. I'm so sorry.

It's hard to look at him. It's hard to do anything, really, and your ears don't even seem to process any sound as he takes the last few steps in between you two. Somewhere in between his entrance, he took his shoes off, and as his socks come into your field of vision you notice you've been staring at the ground before you all this time.

No. Here it comes. Here's the feeling you've been avoiding for so long. Tell me to stop.

What? you know you're not sounding anywhere near stable right now.

Tell me to stop, please, or I won't be able to. It's cold inside but you can feel how warm he is, you can feel him right there, his hand searching for yours, his nose brushing against your cheek. It's so easy to get lost in it, so easy to give it all up just focusing on how his skin feels against yours as he plants a kiss on your temples, then another on your cheek, then one more on the corner of your lips. You need him there, you need him even more than you need to breathe, so you don't stop him and he doesn't stop either, finding your mouth with his and giving you exactly what you've been dreaming about all this time. It's unreasonably better than you could ever imagine, his hand suddenly cradling the back of your head as you completely melt into him.

And there's where you know everything has changed, but it doesn't terrify you anymore. Not when you can feel why he didn't even mind the cold outside, knowing damn well he must have walked all the way from his dorm to your door demanding an explanation as to why you disappeared from his life. That's when you know it all, when you can almost hear his heart beating inside his chest as you hold his face closer to yours.

That's when you know the complete truth—he loves you too.

#bang chan x reader #chan x reader #bang chan thoughts #boyfriend!bang chan #bang chan fluff #bang chan angst #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #prompt list requests

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tookthe-405 · 4 months

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VBS

Chapter 2: Damage gets done ~ hozier (MY LOVE)

DAILY CLICK🍉 DONATE ON

LINKS🇵🇸 GOFUND.ME!!

a/n: again, sorry this took so long, life’s been stressful but I hope y’all like it <33 its long af tho

this is honestly just me messing around with happiness and then destroying it soon 😍

c/w: smut in future chaps!!, religious trauma, internalised homophobia, religious manipulation/abuse, implied abuse by parent

summary: you grew up religious without questions and in summer you would get send to vacation bible school. The camp always felt like prison to you, until a very interesting girl appeared.

7/22/2007 (sunday, week 1)

Readers pov:

10:02 a.m

The faces of the others were frozen as you trudged back to the hostel, which you couldn't blame them for. You don't see two girls with wet clothes here every morning, and the fact that you had to walk past the dining room to get to the stairs didn't exactly help you stay inconspicuous.

You and Ellie lost track of time a bit and were already too late when you noticed that breakfast had already started. The dining room doesn't really have a single door, the room was just completely open with no wall or door that could have protected you from being seen.

Giggles and agitated whispers immediately started as Ellie walked past the large room and down the corridor. Pastor Tobias' eyes pierced into back of your head as you walked past the hall.

Ellie found it all very entertaining and waved to a group of people who greeted her back with a laugh.

You, however, couldn't meet anyone's gaze, not your friends and certainly not Pastor Tobi's.

With your head bowed and your wet hair hitting your red cheek, you quickly fidget past all the spectators.

After 2 days, the events came dry from the lips of the people and you and Ellie could walk through the halls with a little less shame.

Or at least you did.

Ellie didn't think the whole thing was so bad. She said she didn't care and that it was worth it. That you hadn't done anything wrong, and she was right, you hadn't done anything bad.

But guilt was beggingly nibbling at your skin, hoping to be let into your brain where you would make up some fucked up mistake.

The singing of the choir and hazel next to you make it a little harder to think about all this, but not impossible. With your luck, you might dream about it. The whole scene in front of you, is so familiar that it feels like you are timely. The many children of different ages who sing their souls out to be enough.

Some of them are also really good, and some are good and love to sing. But they will probably not get any further than your little congregation, because it was explained to you from an early age that those talents you own are there to serve God and only him.

Acting out of free will would make you feel too guilty.

Your gaze rushes behind a shoulder to Ellie, and even she sings with it. Ellie seems to have made friends with a group of boys and girls a few days ago. She fits in pretty well, everyone looks like they don't feel like being here.

The short-haired girl catches your eyes and winks at you slightly, which makes you grin. She's so inserious, it's to laugh sometimes. With the same grin, she makes a small movement with her fingers and hands that looks as if she is composing something on an invisible piano. You understand that she just wants to tease you and show her a guitar-playing gesture.

"Don't do that!"

The hissing in your ear scares you, and you shake together briefly. After you have stretched your body forward again, and your shoulders feel like wooden boards, you give Hazel an apologetic look.

She unobtrusively holds a finger to her lips instead of telling you to shut up.

But her look is not as angry as she sounded, she admonishes you to stay out of trouble and you have to admit, that has often saved your ass.

When you were smaller, you wanted to try out almost everything, whether it was because of your quick trust in other people or because you just hated yourself too much to have any self respect left, no matter what it was, it almost messe up your life. Or rather your social life in church. And Hazel was like a warning hand that pulled you back again and again, saving yiuin the last moment.

When the piano music ends quietly and slowly, everyone sits down again, and a squeak sounds through the room. The piano that is played on every morning is old, but still sounds quite good. You could play all the hillsong songs and the old ones of your grandparents with your eyes closed if you had to, but Tanja does a good alternative job for you.

Your mother liked it so much, when the piano was played in the service that she thought it would be all the more beautiful if her daughter sat up there.

"Good morning everyone"

The older pastor leans against his narrow pedestal with the large cross on front and looks slowly through the rows.

"Personally, I find that 2 days are enough to get used to a life in nature and among themselves with God" he sighs tired for a short time as if he is already disappointed about something.

"Tomorrow you will go to the city with your assigned room partners and grou leaders and spread God's word”

Groaning resounds around in the room, most of pre teens who would rather do anything else than talk to strangers in the summer heat. Your group also has less desire, but this happens here every year like a kind of tradition, so you've been preparing for it.

"Not only that! The kitchen also prepares candied apples, which you can then all hand out nicely together!"

That was new. However, you understand the purpose behind it, you would also like it more to sit and listen here with a candied apple. In recent years, so many people have slammed the door in front of your nose that a few apples can't be bad.

"Hey girls" Louisa's voice makes you all look over your shoulder.

She kneels in front of you to be able to whisper better and more inconspicuously.

"You have kitchen duty this afternoon, please don't forget it and don't plan anything"

you all nod in Union.

"fuck"

"Kate!" Admonished hazel.

"What? It always takes like what? 2 hours?-"

"2 hours and 46 minutes" you improve her.

The four girls look at you confused.

"I stopped time last year out of boredom"

hazel grins at you, you twist your eyes but there is also a soft smile on your lips. You know exactly what's going through her head.

'That's so weird but just too sweet'

"I can't even remember the last time" murmurs naveah dreamy, her gaze rigidly on the ceiling.

"Probably because it was so traumatic that your brain simply deleted it for you" Kate dramatically her index finger against her head.

"It wasn't so bad, Kate exaggerates."

"I don't"

"my legs hurt all day"

Kate's and Mia's voices roll over and you smile. Hazel looks at you questioningly. You gambled with your shoulders.

"2 hours and 46 minutes Hazel..."

the girl shakes her head and her brown curls fall around her face a few times. "I thought it was okay"

Kate snorts. "Haze you would walk around in underwear in the snow if it happened in the name of the church."

"You wouldn’t?

11:38 a.m (sunday, week 1)

Three. You got 3 soccer balls shot in your face within 1 hour. You're not surprised that one of them was from Caleb, but the other two were shot by the same pretty black-haired girl, and it didn't look like she was sorry.

"What the…"

You stare at her and Caleb's backs during the water break and hope that it was just a coincidence, even if deep down you know that it wasn´t.

"Does he still not like you?" Naveah, sweating, picks up her water bottle while her eyes wander from time to time between you and Caleb.

You shrug, now more focused on Caleb fooling around with some guys.

The air in the gym was incredibly thick and almost unbearable, but the leaders still talked you into a soccer match. It was more or less Hazel's decision anyway and you guys do everything she does. The high windows let in the warm sun, whose heat wasn't particularly welcome right now.

The teams are mixed, meaning there are boys and girls on the same teams, aged 16 to 18. There weren't many, but enough to at least form 2 fair groups with even a few substitutions on the bench.

Ellie is nowhere to be seen , which doesn't surprise you, you regret ever saying yes to this, but you miss her in the disgusting, sweaty, narrow air. Her presence and her funny jokes would have been the only thing that could have made this a little less shitty.

"What's the deal with him anyway?" Naveah doesn't seem to let this go.

"We just don't like each other, that's just how it is sometimes."

She frowns.

"I don't think you can hate each other so much without a reason."

"I don't hate Caleb, I don't really care about him"

Naveah lets out a snort.

"Damn didn't know you could be a little bitchy too"

Caleb turns briefly in your direction and you take that as a sign to turn away and finally sit down for the next 8 minutes. Naveah does the same.

“I think everyone can be a little bitchy, you can’t like everyone and everything”

“Jesus could”

“Well im not Jesus”

she stretches her legs out next to you and sighs deeply.

"I know, even if this doesn't sound good, I sometimes find the principle of the church really fucked up. I try to love everyone, even people who do bad things to me, but it doesn't always work."

You're very surprised that she comes to you with this, but now that she did, you want to give her the best comfort you can.

"That's okay, naveah. We're neither God nor Jesus, we can do some things and we can't do some other. And we find a lot of things difficult. So Hate who you want"

naveah laughs and then becomes creepily serious again.

"Thanks, since you became friends with Ellie, you seem more relaxed to me."

Thinking, you try to remember your life before Ellie, but you can't. Before that everything was much more colorless, it didn't make as much sense as it does now.

"yes, I guess"

"no matter what Hazel says, you're right, Ellie isn't bad. How can a bad person make someone else this happy?"

12:24 p.m (sunday, week 1)

You haven't heard from Ellie all morning. It was almost as if she had completely disappeared, and if you're honest, you've had the feeling for a while that one day, she would just run away from here.

You wouldn´t hold it against her, but you would still feel dejected and left behind.

naveah and you talk a lot more after the game, she's more like you than you thought and you think she's good company. She understands your humor and you don't feel stupid or judged after every sentence you say.

It often happens to you that you wish for a world and reality in which it was always so easy to live. Where not every breath you take feels wasted.

You try very hard not to think about Caleb or your siblings back home. Homesickness seemed to catch up with you sooner or later anyway, but you didn't expect it to happen so quickly.

The summer heat was bearable, but it was still uncomfortable, so you spent most of your time indoors. Shortly after 12, Naveah suggested playing a few rounds of Uno with you, and since there was nothing better to do, you agreed.

"My father taught me uno, I can still remember that"

there is a very faint smile in her voice that touches your ears. She sounded a bit sad, as if she´s mourning that time of her life.

"I don't know your father at all"

you put a wish card on top of the pile of other cards. One round probably turned into a few.

"He's not really a christian, sometimes I think that's why he is the way he is"

"What do you mean?"

"He has a lot of emotions, he doesn't know what to do with them."

Christian parents are often very strict, as there are many rules in both parenting and the Bible that you have to follow. But since Naveah is talking about her atheist father, you don't really have a picture of what she really means, both your parents are religious.

"I don't understand exactly what you mean naveah…"

half of your brain is focused on the girl in front of you and the other half on the cards on the floor. Naveah moved around a little to sit down a little more comfortably, but this position didn´t seemed to free her from the emotional discomfort.

"Sometimes he doesn't know where to put all the anger. My mother doesn't help much with that either. Both of them know how to provoke each other, but only one of them knows how to deal with feelings."

"I still don't know what you mean? How does that affect you and your fathers relationship?"

It seems absurd to you how you talk about something like that while you're playing Uno, but if that's what she needs.

"Girls, lunch is ready and then you have to rinse off."

Louisa's voice flashes through the room and everyone moves quickly, but you make a mental note to talk to her about it later. You walk at a slow pace down the hallway and the other girls just rush past you. You remember how easy everything seemed to you at that age.

On the second floor you meet Jonathan.

“Hey you got wash up duity, don’t you?”

A dramatic groan leaves your mouth and you nod.

Joanthan is nice. You know his parents very well and you both grew up together as often as you saw each other at school and he was one of the only boys who wasn't interested in bullying girl for fun.

"Are you in the same room with Samuel?"

“Samuel and Austin, luckily”

You nod in understanding and see your group of girls whizzing past you out of the corner of your eye. Hazel turns to you briefly and gives you that grin and suddenly you know exactly what's going on here. An unpleasant feeling spreads through you and you try hard to ignore it.

"yeah… it's nice that you're still friends"

"I can't believe how long I've been able to put up with these two"

You giggle a little bit uncomfortable and think about the many pranks the three boys have pulled off. Both here in the camp and at school.

“Have you planned any new pranks?”

"hmm I don't know if I can tell you that" Jonathan grins at you.

"Well, if I hear something about a prank, I know who it was."

He shrugs and chuckles softly.

"Do you know what you're planning to do after the summer holidays? Now that we've finished school." you ask him.

He doesn't seem so sure about his answer.

"Not really, I don't know yet whether I want to stay here or go further away. Samuel wants to study in new york, I feel a bit left behind"

left behind. You know the fear of that as well.

"No matter what you decide, you have a future everywhere, time goes by either way"

he smiles at you and combs a few thick curls out of his face. You notice that he's looking at you longer than necessary.

"Hey would you like-" "Jesus where are they?"

You try strenuously to find Hazel's brown curls over the many people's heads, but they are nowhere to be seen.

"Sorry Jonathan, I have to find the others before they can no longer manage to save a seat for me."

you lie coldly to his face.

Without any further words, you quickly march through the many groups. You can feel his confused look burning at your spine, but whatever he wanted wasn't what you wanted.

You notice two things in the dining room.

Luckily Hazel secured a spot for you and Ellie is talking to the girl who shot a fucking ball at you. Twice.

Ellie's face seemed neutral, she was smiling slightly.

Jealousy overcomes you and you´re embarrassed at how quickly and unexpectedly it happens. Your cheeks redden and you feel very immature, like in middle school when you were mad that Hazel had other friends besides you.

You sit down in silence next to Hazel, who has already placed a plate at your place. Some pureed vegetable soup that you have to force down.

"What did Jonathan want?" Kate leans forward eagerly.

Unexpectedly, Jonathan is a good distraction for once.

"You're being so childish"

"Come on, we're just curious"

That's how it was always with the boys. No matter what people say, Christian girls are obsessed with boys, no matter how much the feeling of guilt trys to destroy that. For many, boys even come before God in terms of interest.

Not necessarily boys, but more the romance itself. The acceptance and recognition of being enough for a man.

Your eyes flick to Ellie, who is still talking to her about something seemingly funny. Of course you don't care.

“He didn’t want anything from me and even if he did it i would not care.”

1:14 p.m (sunday, week 1)

You are just waiting to be let into the kitchen. It's nothing unusual to take on kitchen duty in camp. It's a kind of thank you from the church to the kitchen for cooking warm food every day. Every girl's room gets a turn twice a year. After the girls' rooms have all been through to the second time, there are two more boys' rooms so that it doesn't get unfair. Ironic isn´ it?

Every year it's the same, every year you can hear the boys crying and complaining when they're the ones who have to do it this year. Now was your day where you have to wash 200 dishes. The staff and managers involved.

Ellie isn't here yet. She can't really have forgotten it, Louisa reminded her not to do anything between 1 and 3 p.m. this morning.

"Okay girls, then let's get to work."

Lousia opens the door to the kitchen a little too enthusiastically with her key and everyone follows her limply. It's the same place with the same number of dirty dishes.

Washing the dishes yourself isn't that bad for you, it's the fact that this kitchen is so damn dark.

For some reason there are only 3 windows in the white, old room. The tiles on the floor are already old and a few edges have broken off, the potholes were noticeable on the sole of your slippers. It still smells like soup and detergent and you wonder who would want to spend hours doing something like that.

“Here” Hazel hands you gloves and an apron.

"Sorry I'm late" Ellie stands in the doorway, panting, looking for Lousia's gaze, but it still stays on you.

"Hey" she smiles at you… shyly?

You smile back and pull the apron over your head.

"Ellie… please don't let this happen again."

“I promise it won´t”

Hazel also hands her the things and Ellie doesn’t hesitate for a second. You're a little surprised that she showed up at all, but she seems a bit inergic to you.

"Okay, we'll divide into 3 groups and one will rinse while the other dries and puts thw dishes away," you almost order the others.

You grew up with a very tidy mother and a big sister, you know a lot about tidying up and organization. That's why no one hesitates and does what you said.

"I wanted to talk to you all day"

Ellie's rough voice loops into your right ear and you quickly grab the dishes and a sponge as a distraction and start to rinse.

"I'll rinse you dry"

Ellie seems surprised to have to pick up a plate but does as you say.

"Everything okay?"

What bothers you is how easy it is for her to read you.

“Yes, everything is perfect”

“It doesn’t seem like it?”

"That's your self Ellie?"

"Did anything happen?"

"No"

"Did I do something?"

"Ellie!"

You say her name a little loudly and Mia, who is standing across from you, turns to you briefly and smiles encouragingly at you.

No, that is completely wrong. You shouldn't be mad at Ellie, you should stand by her, she could be in distress or something.

You direct your gaze again, an embarrassing blush on your face.

As strange as it sounds, Ellie really looks beautiful in an apron. Her soft curves, her forearms that show off her fair, freckled skin and the black ink of her tattoo. She always has to pull up her sleeves no matter what she does.

"I just had a bad day okay?"

You take the next plate.

"Her name is Ruth"

Ruth. you imagine how the name would feel on your tongue, how it would taste. How it would taste on Ellie's tongue. Shaking, you banish the thought because the thought of a sentence where both Ellie’s tongue and taste appear, seems too dangerous to you.

"I didn't ask that"

"You didn't have to"

Nobody speaks for 10 minutes, there is complete silence. Your thoughts rush from one corner of your brain to the other. You didn't want to argue with her, you didn't want to be anything other than hers.

soon you realize that you have no right to be angry with Ellie. She can talk to whoever she wants. Strangely enough, it also seemed to make a certain amount of sense for Ellie that you were angry.

You Wonder why.

"I'm sorry," she murmurs next to you, a wet glass in her hand.

"You don't have to be, you didn't do anything, Ellie."

Your anger subsided, and your longing for Ellie's soft, warm voice grew.

"I haven't paid any attention to you all day."

"You don't have to-"

"But I want to. As often as I can."

Sometimes you think that she doesn't even notice what she's actually saying to you. That she's in a trance and doesn't even notice what's falling over her lips. How vulgar her allusions are, and how good they feel.

You turn around briefly, but no one seems to have heard.

"It's okay, don't worry about it now."

"I really am sorry though." Her hand rests gently on your back, but doesn't quite touch you. it is the gesture itself that counts here, but you can't help but think of her soft skin, of her many freckles that are certainly not only on her face.

"I know. Me too, I shouldn't have acted around like that"

her face shows how happy she was with the situation and you smiled too.

"I like your hair. It's really pretty braided" she whispers

her hands sadly turn back to the dishes and your gaze remains stuck to her for a while. But how could you not? who would ever want to look away from her?

"what did you want to tell me?" you ask her.

"how do you know that I want to tell you something?"

"you get really fidgety when you want to talk about something"

you notice so many things about her. how her leg fidgets slightly, how she keeps having to change her position and shifts her hips from left to right, how she bites her cheek, sometimes too hard.

"um... I had an idea"

"Ellie, no-"

"I haven't said anything yet"

the running water covers your voices, luckily, and no one notices.

"We're handing out these apples tomorrow and I thought to myself-"

you give her another glass and look into her soul.

"That's stupid and we're not 10 anymore, Ellie, what makes you think of something like that?"

Ellie takes the glass slowly and carefully, not breaking eye contact with you. Her eyes look hurt.

"Please explain it to me" you try to make your voice softer, more trustworthy.

"I don't want to be here. You don't understand, you're here every year and people love you. There's something wrong with me and I'm reminded of it every fucking day, I just want to show him what it's like to be treated like that"

you could hear the tears in her voice. You noticed early on with your brother that some people just don't cry, or at least don't like to. They express their tears differently, with Ellie it's her voice.

Her voice shows how she's feeling just as clearly as tears would have.

The kitchen is divided into two compartments. One is where they cook and the other is where they put the dirty dishes and clean them.

"How are we even supposed to get into the kitchen? And how do we know that they haven't already put the glaze on the apples? We don't know anything, Ellie-"

"Jesse's mother is volunteering to help in the kitchen. He said that he needs to help his mother to candy the apples this evening. But before that we can make a few changes."

Your mouth is slightly open. She has really thought this through. You hand Ellie another glass and stare at the door at the end of the room. No chance of her just getting in there. Louisa is a very nice manager but even that wouldn't gat an approve of her.

"How are we even supposed to get in there?"

CLINGGG

a high, loud noise bounces around in the air and you flinch so much that it hurts.

"fuck"

"oops" Ellie grins at you slightly after she has dropped the glass, you gave her to dry, on the floor.

"I'm so sorry, god I'm so clumsy"

Ellie gives you a whole scene, in which you don't have to do anything but hold back a laugh.

"Louisa, forgive me, it just fell out of my hand"

the other girls have to hold back a giggle too, even Hazel.

Ellie's high, dramatic voice sounded bad like a dying cat, but once again you were impressed by how daring she is.

"Yeah, yeah Ellie, clean that up. The broom is in the storage room"

Louisa presses the many keys into Ellie's hand and doesn't seem at all surprised.

"Thank you very much sister" for a moment you thought she was bowing.

„we’re not catholic Ellie-“

„But Mrs. I don't know where the storage rooms are"

„And I’m not married“ Louisa sighs

"Shit Ellie, I'm kinda enjoying this"

Kate grins at her and Ellie winks as Louisa gives Kate a warning look.

Ellie puts a strong, secure arm around you.

“Please accompany her”

Louisa waves her hands in the air between you two

“Sure” you reply like a robot

Ellie's arm pulls you towards the exit door and almost slams it behind you.

"first we ruin the glaze, then we can get the broom from wherever that was"

"in the storage room"

"whatever"

There are two doors to the kitchen. One that is in the washing up room and connects the two rooms and another that leads directly to the kitchen. The other entrance can be taken through the dining hall, and that's where you headed.

"if the pastor sees us, we're dead, Ellie"

you walk quickly but are still careful when you go around corners.

"I know, I think he wants to hang me on a scarecrow, I had a dream about that recently-"

you grab her arm and shove her back behind a safe corner.

"phillip"

"who the fuck is Phillip"

you press Ellie lightly against the wall because you are sure that sometimes she can't control her body properly. you peek around the corner slightly and see the orange hair.

"He's like the pastor's right-hand man, his best friend is also his roommate and his assistant."

"Pastors can have roommates?"

The orange spot at the end of the hallway slowly disappears like the light of a car on a dark night. This time you go first and Ellie follows you like a dog, she is also much quieter.

You feel 6 years younger and you like doing something you've never dared to do. Otherwise it was always the boys who played pranks and even though you never admitted it, you were always jealous.

Jealous of the freedom to behave like an asshole and not face any consequences. You wanted to have that laugh, that bond of having done something wrong together and to experience the big drama afterwards. To be praised for having done it.

"Shit, you like this, don't you?"

How can she read you so well?

"No!"

When you get to the door you stare at her knowingly.

"Yes you do, you're not as good as you always act doll. And I mean that in the best way possible"

"You're full of shit Ellie"

you let her pass you and the green eyed girl hastily tries to find the key.

"hey" you calmly touch her quick hands.

"calm down. don't stress Ellie"

her cheeks redden and her hands slow down.

"i really can't find it. fuck do you even have the key to the kitchen as a group leader?"

out of instinct you pull the door handle to use the key and the door opens.

"That was easier than i thought-"

Ellie puts the keys in her back pocket and carefully sticks her head into the kitchen. you keep watch so that no one walks by and tells on you. you quickly scurry after Ellie into the empty, warm room and smell the sweet air of the apples.

"the door has a fucking window" Ellie whispers in your ear and points at the door from where your friends are cleaning dirty dishes, the door that leads to Louisa who Is waiting for her keys.

goosebumps spread across your arms and legs and you are not sure if it is where Ellie is or the chance of being thrown out of the camp.

as you stand in front of the big pot you both breathe in out of reflex.

"It smells good, I even feel a little bad about ruining it"

Ellie watches the bubbling bubbles a little dreamily.

"Isn´t that actually vandalism?"

you ask thoughtfully.

Ellie almost laughs out loud and puts her hand over her mouth. You grab her arm and press even harder against her mouth so that she is really quiet.

"No, that isn't really vandalism oh my god you are innocent"

"Wow thanks Ellie, it was so enlightening"

you spend a while looking in the kitchen for something that might taste good and after a while Ellie finds vinegar that is probably decades old.

"that is so disgusting, remind me not to eat any of it"

Ellie's look confirms that somehow you'll have to eat it anyway.

"it will noticeable if we don't eat anything, just a small bite"

"Ellie what the fuck" you massage your temples with your thumb and watch her open the vinegar.

"not too much, okay?"

"yeah yeah"

In the end she used almost half the bottle to make it really gross. for an "extra reaction" she said. In the end you almost got caught by the pastor's right hand. In the end Ellie held your hand for exactly 4 seconds.

It was impressive how those 4 seconds stayed in your head for hours.

INTERACT WITH ONE OF THE LINKS UP THERE

Please post and repost a lot about Palestine especially right now. The videos shock me to my core and are really disturbing but people live these lives, these are children of someone. Please take your focus on the people in Palestine who are going thru hell. Help where you can

I really hope you liked this chapter, I will upload more after focusing more about palestine so it might take a while! Btw SO SORRY ITS THAT LONG

Taglist: @elliewilliamgfooc @bready101 @a-little-bit-of-everybody @vqxen @hersuniverse @nelzooo @shiimer @bellaramseysgirlfriend @sonthingwithl @vi0lentb3rry @elliewilliamsblunt @be3flow3r @adelaide013 @abbysbraids @mourningdovee

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vanillabeams · 1 month

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• meet me at our spot •

warning!: 🍃(weed) , no smut unfortunately, girl reader!

Synopsis: suna doesn’t really understand why he has these odd feelings for you and why he feels so different around you, should he tell you?

suna realizes his strong feelings for you when his at the gas station late at night with atsumu. when walking up to the cash register he spots a pack of strawberry flavored pocky, he stares at it for a moment before picking them up. this catches atsumu eye “ why’d you get those? you don’t even like pocky” suna is quick to respond “ well y/n loves them..i was thinking i could get her a pack” atsumu chuckles at this and wraps a arm around his shoulder “ always thinking about her huh? and you still deny the fact your in love with her” he pokes at his cheek. confusion crosses over suna face as he realize atsumu is completely right. he then starts to think back on how you have such an affect on him. “hey! there is a line behind you!” the cashier snaps him out his thoughts.

atsumu words kept on replaying in suna head. suna already knew he had strong feelings for you but inlove with you? that scared him really bad. it’s quite literally 4am in the morning and atsumu has said those words 2 weeks ago so why the hell were they still buzzing around in his head?

suna hasn’t realized that he is completely high out of his mind staring at his roof for an hour thinking about you, intill he reaches his phone and click on your contact calling you. it didn’t take long for you to answer even tho he woke you out of your sleep “hey y/n were you sleep?” he can hear your groan from the other side of his phone and that answers his question “i’m sorry for waking you up, i just needed to talk to you it’s important” the other side of the phone grows quite before you start talking again “ mhm o’kay..” your voice is soft and tired on the other end it’s so peaceful to suna hearing you like this it almost makes him smile. “ meet me at our spot, okay?” he hangs up the phone grabs his keys.

he parks his car next to yours and he spots you sitting infront of the lake.“y/n!” he calls out your name to make sure it was you.once you stand up and he sees your afro he is sure that it’s you. you guys walk up to each other and he grasp you into a hug “ you actually came..” you hug him back of course but confused on why he didn’t think you would “ yeah why wouldn’t i? you said it was important” he lets you go and nods his head at your response. he takes your wrist carefully and walks you guys over to the pond sitting down taking in the beautiful view.

“i’m not as mad at you anymore for waking me up..this view is beautiful” you stare ahead of you at the pond while suna is staring at the view beside him. the dark blue night sky looks so majestic on your beautiful skin and the pond making it look like sparkles in your brown eyes while the wind is pushing thru your afro. “ yeah such a beautiful sight to look at” he wasn’t talking about the pound he was talking about you.

you turn your head away from the pond and to him “ so what’s going on?” suna starts messing around with his fingers nervously “i-..ok what i’m about to say is going to be scary and ruin our friendship..but i don’t think i can keep it from you anymore” suna face expression is calm and serious while your trying not to laugh “ don’t tell me your spiderman?” and with that you bust out laughing. suna rolls his eyes and can’t help but to crack a small smile he loves your laugh. “ no im being serious y/n” he looks you in your eyes to let you know his being serious.

“2 weeks ago i was at the store with atsumu and i picked up one of your favorite snacks..” you look at him confused and lost because this is something he always does but you try not to cut him off and just follow along “mhm.”

“ and he pointed out something, somthing thats true” he breaks eye contact with you and looks at the pond “ he said i’m always thinking about you and i keep on denying i’m in love with you” there’s a silents that falls between you guys “ well everyone thinks and says that rin” suna takes in a deep breath preparing for what he is about to say “but..what if i am inlove with you?” he turns his head to capture your face expression “ you can’t be in love with somone before you can even have feelings for them” the silence that kept on growing in between you guys sentences was painful because you both knew what he was trying to say well at least he thinks you know already.

“exactly.” your lips parted and your eyes grew slightly bigger a small detail that nobody would’ve noticed but suna did. “ what are you trying to say?” suna head falls back looking at the sky extremely nervous for what he was about to say “i’ve always felt strong feelings for you, months ago y/n i swear when i first saw you my first thoughts were you are the most beautiful thing anyone could ever lay there eyes on, like a work of art,” the only thing that filled your eyes was the water moving in front of us, now he began to grow worried, did he make it seem like he only wanted you for your looks?

“..which is nice and all but your personality has an huge effect on me y/n you don’t even know the half of it” he grows embarrassed rethinking this whole situation putting his face in his hand sighing. “how so?” you looked so focused on his face you’ve never seen him so bold in your life. “ y/n you’ve influenced me to stop smoking and only using edibles because i know you don’t like the strong smell of it, you’ve made me soft..so incredibly soft, i’ve let you paint my nails,draw in my notebooks, steal my hoodies, and so much more..these feelings that i have for you only grew stronger the more i’m around you y/n”

“..but that’s just me having an postive effect on you, you don’t actually know if your in-.” suna cuts you off now growing a bit irritated “y/n please stop denying the fact that i’m inlove with you, i’ve never wanted to kiss someone more in life so badly when i’m with you.” he can feel his face grow red and hot from what he blurted out “ i’m sorry i didn’t mean that part scratch that i-.” his sentence is interrupted by your laugh “aww you wannna kiss me??” no one can ever make suna flustered and stutter like you can “i- i don’t know..i didn’t mean to say that, i just grew a bit irritated because you kept on denying it” he scratches his head and avoided eye contact.

“ i just wanted to keep on hearing you talk about how much you loved me silly” you face your body towards him. “ so this mean you..you love me back?” he looks at you with wide eyes, you roll your eyes at his stupid question “ of course i do, it’s so obvious rin” he can’t help but smile a bit at your respond “ can i kiss yo-.” before he finishes his sentence you grab his face and place your soft lips on his.

“ will you be my boyfriend?”

“mhm” is the only thing he can mumble from being to carried away from his kiss with you.

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musings-of-a-rose · 1 year

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I'll Always Wait For You - Chapter 18 (Final Chapter)

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

Word Count: 6900+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

Notes: Well, this is it. The final chapter. I’m feeling very emotional about this one, as these 2 are my babies. This fic was the second thing I ever started writing AND my first series. I started it in November of 2021 and now I’m ending it in June of 2023. Thank you to everyone who has read it, left comments, reblogged it, talked about it off of Tumblr (I am still FLOORED that this has happened!). This is what keeps people creating. Even if you think you have nothing important to say, or if all you say is just a keyboard mash of letters, I can promise you ALL of it means the world to us. So I dedicate this fic to you, the reader. You’re the real star here and I can’t express my love enough. If you’re ever wanting more, I am always down to write one shots, drabbles, character insights, what ifs, etc for this fic (and any of my others).

Now excuse me while I go cry

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

I'll Always Wait For You Masterlist

Frankie Morales Masterlist

<<Chapter 17

“You look so beautiful!” Olivia gushes over you after she tucks the last braid into place, watching you stand and do a little twirl in your white dress.

“You think so? It’s not too much?”

“Too much? Girl, it’s your wedding day. You can’t be too much!”

Smiling, you smooth out your dress as you take in your reflection. You’re marrying Frankie. Your Frankie. Frankie, whom you’ve been in love with since you were 19. This is real. It’s happening.

Ok, technically, in the eyes of the law, it happened a few weeks ago at a courthouse. But there’s something special about gathering in front of your close friends and family, wearing a beautiful dress, and getting to repeat those vows in front of everyone. A soft knock at the door brings you out of your head and Olivia walks across the room to peak her head outside.

“Mosa, it’s the photographer. Are you ready for the first look?”

“It’s HERmosa!” Frankie’s muffled yell comes from behind the door and Olivia smirks.

One last glance in the mirror at your reflection and you nod, turning your back towards the door. You hear some shuffling as Frankie is ushered in backwards and the photographers get into place.

“Turn in 3..2..1..Turn!” Olivia says and then steps back.

You turn, your eyes finding his almost immediately, as if they were drawn there. He’s dressed in a tailored suit, fitting his form perfectly, his grandfather’s kerchief folded and poking from the pocket. But what you’re really interested in is his face, his eyes growing wider and glossier the longer he looks at you.

“Hermosa, you…you’re beautiful,” Frankie says, awestruck.

“You’re just figuring that out?” You say behind a smile.

“No, I mean I always knew but…wow.”

He walks up to you and cups your cheek, running his thumb across it as Olivia hisses something about makeup from the corner of the room. But you couldn’t care less. Frankie was here, marrying you. This is all you’ve dreamt of for well over 10 years. A tear runs down Frankie’s cheek and you wipe it away.

“Are you ok?”

He sniffs and smiles. “I’m the best I’ve felt in a long time. I just…I only wish we would’ve done this sooner.”

“We did. We got married in the courthouse, remember?”

He smiles at you. “I meant more that we never…that we stayed together since that first kiss.”

“Me too. But we can’t dwell on what-ifs. We can only think about the here-and-nows.”

Frankie tips your chin up and presses a light kiss to your lips, the clicks from the camera going crazy. You pose for photos for several minutes before Olivia ushers everyone from the room, winking at you when she says she’ll give you 10 minutes of alone time before she came to get you. The second the door closes, Frankie pushes his tongue in your mouth, pulling you as close as he can.

“I can’t mess this dress up, Frankie,” You say pouting.

“That’s ok. I can work with that.” Frankie grips your hips and spins you around, bending you over the back of the chair and clasping a hand to your mouth as he takes you, your hands desperately trying to reach behind you to pull him in closer.

15 minutes later, Olivia knocks on the door and enters hesitantly, smirking when she sees you smoothing down your dress, Frankie’s face more pink than when she had left.

“It’s time,” she says, tossing her thumb over her shoulder and looking at Frankie pointedly. He turns to you and kisses your cheek.

“See you out there?”

“Raging sharks couldn’t keep me away.”

He kisses you once more before Olivia starts clearing her throat. When he straightens up a curl falls on his forehead and you softly push it back to where it was, feeling Frankie’s eyes on you the entire time. He opens the door and looks outside befire turning back to you.

“Your gift is here.”

“You don’t have to get me a gift, Frank-”

Santi walks through the door, dressed in a nice tux and smiling from ear to ear. You hadn’t seen him since the day he confessed his love for you and you had missed him terribly. Frankie was your best friend, but Santi was a close second and you’d hated the idea of getting married without him there.

“Santi?”

“Hey, Hermosa.”

You catch a glimpse of Frankie’s smile before he closes the door as you wrap your arms around Santi, feeling him squeeze you back just as hard. Separating a few moments later, you dab under your eyes as you try to choke back tears.

“If I smudge my makeup, Olivia may kill me.”

Santi laughs. “She’s Benny’s girl, right? She’s perfect for him.”

“She’s really great…but how are you here?”

“I uh…Frankie called me a few weeks ago and told me…well, everything. I’m sorry I was screening my calls, Hermosa. I just…I needed time.”

“I understand. But…you’re here now! Are you ok?”

“I’m doing alright, Hermosa. Actually, pretty good.”

“You’ll have to tell me all about her.”

He laughs. “I will. But uh, hey - do you need a Man of Honor? If…if that would…be ok?”

“I would love to have to as my Man of Honor! But…Benny already agreed and I don’t know how to tell him -”

Santi waves his hand. “Benny was in on this. He knows and already said it was ok with him as long as you wanted it.”

Your eyes go wide. “Wait. Benny knew you were coming and he didn’t tell me?”

“Yeah.”

You gasp. “That bitch!”

Santi laughs his hardest yet. “So…”

“Let’s go, Man of Honor.”

The next thing you know, Frankie’s kissing you, everyone whooping and cheering, Aurelia throwing more flower petals into the air as they announce “Mr. and Mrs. Morales.” The rest of the night was like a blur, between photos and eating, first dances and cake, you barely had time to sit until things started to wind down long into the night. When you tried to help clean up, Olivia literally slapped your hand away and glared at you.

“Absolutely not. Benny!” He walks over and play groans when she says she’s recruited him to help clean up. She pretends to twist his nipple when he starts to complain and he yelps, high pitched and smiling as they play fight for a few moments before he gives in, grabbing plates and stacking them to wash.

Frankie looks exhausted and he’s limping a little, so you beg him to not carry you over the threshold. “You did that when we got courthouse married.”

“Yeah but-”

“No. I’m not having you throw your hip out on our wedding day. Not from this.”

He chokes and smiles, giving in, a dark twinkle in his eye. “Alright. If you insist.” But by the time you’d made it upstairs and gotten your clothes off, both of you were too exhausted to do much of anything aside from a shower and literally fall into bed. But Frankie made up for lost time the next morning, waking you with what he claims was already your third orgasm of the day, his curls mussed up from being buried between your legs. He presses his body to yours, swallowing your whimpers before he adds his own, hips shaking with release.

You spend your honeymoon at the Miller family cabin upstate, the only clothing you wear being one of Frankie’s shirts and sometimes his hat, which drives him wild. He celebrates another sobriety milestone while there, smiling wide at your praise. When you get back home, you can see he has an extra pep in his step, always a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, always wanting to touch you, whether a hand to your wrist, a touch to your lower back, or a smack on your ass, chuckling as you yelp and smack him back. When you ask him why he looks exceptionally happy, he credits you. “I finally got the girl of my dreams, the love of my life.”

—-

Frankie and you settle into a comfortable routine. You were no strangers to living together, the adjustment taking no time at all. Life goes on as normal, except now, you get to live it with Frankie, no longer separated by a stupid argument, misconceptions, or a bitch of an ex wife. This was exactly where you were meant to be.

Several months later, Frankie follows you into the family restroom at Target, slinging your purse over his shoulder as he rifles through the bag of stuff you’d just purchased.

“Pink dye first, right?” He asks, raising his eyebrows as he looks at you.

“Yeah. They’re more accurate supposedly.”

Frankie tears open the box and studies the directions, as if he hadn’t done this several times already. He opens one of the sticks and hands it to you, turning around to give you a little privacy.

“Start the timer,” you say as you zip up your pants. Frankie hits go on his timer and turns to face you, a pregnancy stick held face down in your hand. He can see your nerves, your worry and concern on your face.

“It’ll be ok, Hermosa.”

“Yeah I know. But what if it isn’t?”

“It will be-”

“We’ve been trying for months, Frankie. I know the OB said to try for a year before fertility testing but-”

Frankie walks up to you and pulls you to him, applying a gentle pressure as he hugs you close, kissing the side of your head. “If it’s negative, then we keep trying, ok? It hasn’t been a year yet and sometimes these things take time.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Will told me that it took them months to conceive Liam. And they were trying too. Just…breathe. In….out…”

You breathe with him for a few breaths. “You always were annoyingly calm in a crisis.”

He smiles. “Wouldn’t help to freak out behind the joystick.”

You open your mouth to reply, but his timer cuts you off. Your mouth jams shut, nerves taking over your body as Frankie holds your gaze.

“If it says negative, we can keep trying. Remember that. I love you no matter what, Hermosa.” You nod, taking a deep breath. “Ready?”

“Ready.” You flip the test over and look, 2 bright pink lines staring back at you. Tears immediately fall as you laugh, turning the test around to show Frankie, who yells, grabbing you up in his arms and hugging you tightly. He kisses you for a moment, pressing his forehead to yours.

“I fucking love you, Hermosa.”

“I love you, Frankie.”

He yanks the door open and whoops loudly, people turning to look at him as you follow him out of the bathroom.

“I’m going to be a father again!” He pumps his fists in the air, smiling from ear to ear as people cheer, clapping and congratulating you as they finish their purchases, one older couple handing you a gift card on their way out, telling you to spoil that baby.

—-

Frankie was hesitant at first with your pregnancy, despite being so supportive and actually wanting a child with you. A couple months in, you finally ask him why he seems afraid to touch you, that you won’t break. He finally confesses to you that when Elizabeth was pregnant, she did nothing but yell at him, belittling him and wouldn’t let him touch her at all, not her belly, not even to rub her back or feet. She called him horrible names and would blame it on the hormones. Your heart breaks for him and you have no words. Well, you have words but they aren’t nice ones. Instead, you sit next to him on the bed, leaning back onto one arm, and take his hand with the other, gently placing it on your lower belly. His eyes light up as he looks at your tiny for the moment bump, tears welling in his eyes as he brings his other hand up to take the other side. He pulls your shirt up just enough to see your belly skin, giving it a tiny kiss.

“Hey, little one. You grow strong in there and don’t give your mom too much of a hard time.”

From then on, Frankie is all in. Whatever you need, he gets it, even if it’s a ridiculous request at 3am. He’s constantly touching your growing belly, talking to it as much as you do. He finds Aurelia’s old crib in the attic, a few boxes of baby stuff and a bassinet up there as well. He sets up the nursery under your instruction, letting Aurelia help with the decorations when she comes on the weekends. You decide to wait to find out the sex of the baby, thinking it would be something fun to do. So instead you call it “Bean”.

“Think Bean will like this?” Frankie asks, pointing to a baby swing.

“They might, but Frankie, that swing is nearly $150. We can’t afford that.”

His shoulder’s slump but he agrees. “Maybe we can check the thrift shop. It’s the one thing Will didn’t toss our way.”

He was there for all of the classes too, birthing ones, breathing ones, even the hypnobirthing ones. He signed up for a “birthing partners” class, learning the best ways to support you not just during labor and delivery, but during the 4th trimester, or immediately postpartum. He helped you practice your meditations, making sure you had everything you needed and that you remember to take your prenatal and drink enough water.

When you’re 8 months pregnant, getting winded from walking down the hall, Frankie gets a call from his boss at Flyboyz on his day off, asking him to come in. He grabs his hat and gives you a quick kiss before leaving, reminding you to drink water. He’d been working a lot lately, trying to make extra money so he can stay home with you and the baby for the first month. You’re not sure how long he’ll be gone, so you plop yourself down on your bed, pulling over the basket of baby clothes that still have to be sorted and you get to work, separating the sizes, long sleeve vs short, nightgowns from onesies. A couple hours later, the front door opens and Frankie slams it behind him, the picture frames rattling on the walls. You set aside the footie pajamas you were folding and go to stand up, but Frankie comes storming into the bedroom before you can move, anger coming off of him in waves.

“Frankie?”

He yanks his hat from his head, tossing it onto his dresser, knocking some things off of it. “I can’t fucking believe her!”

Struggling a little, you manage to get up and cross the room to him, placing your hand on his mid back. He recoils, anger flashing in his eyes but it’s not directed at you. Unsure of what happened, you know he needs to calm down before he can tell you. You grab an ice cube out of your glass of water and turn to Frankie.

“Give me your hand.”

He looks at you, eyebrow raised. “What?”

“Just do it.”

He stares at you for a moment before shoving his hand out. You flip it palm up, opening his fingers and place the ice cube in his palm. He yelps, but you hold his hand firmly so he won’t drop the ice.

“What the fuck, Hermosa?”

“The cold will help reset your nervous system.”

“I don’t think- it’s too fucking cold, Hermosa.”

“Just another few seconds.”

His chest, which had been heaving a moment ago, has slowed down, the anger still there but at a manageable level. You tip his hand and grab the falling ice into your own palm, putting it in the sink in the bathroom before coming back to the bed and trying to sit on it. Frankie is there, taking your hand and helping you into bed. He goes to stand but you squeeze his hand and pull him until he sighs, sitting on the edge, his shoulders slumped.

“How do you feel?”

“Fucking angry, but…the edge is gone. Ice…who fucking knew?”

“So..may I ask what happened?”

His eyes darken with repressed outrage. “I thought I was getting extra work. Instead, my pilot’s license has been suspended, pending a review.”

You sit up quickly, eyes going wide. “What??”

He nods, his jaw clenching. “Apparently, someone made a claim that I was using when I flew some clients and now they have to investigate.”

You knew that Frankie had been clean over a year, that he wasn’t using at all. “Oh, Frankie. Wait..who made the claim?”

He looks at you. “It was anonymous but I know it was Elizabeth.” He says her name with absolute disgust and hate that you nearly pull back from him.

“Elizabeth? Would she-”

“Oh come on, Hermosa. You don’t think it was her? I’ve been clean for well over a year. She’s the only one who would have known that I used that would make claims.”

“What about Rick?”

Frankie shakes his head. “Nah. He left Flyboyz while you were…out of town. I told him he had to leave or I would report him for selling. He started to threaten to bring me down with him, but then remembered you were…not in my life and he could see the rock bottom in me, I guess. So he backed off, just left to go elsewhere. There’s no way it’s him. It’s her. It’s always her causing shit. I’m so fucking sick of it!”

Placing a hand on his back, you start to rub it, adding in little scratches here and there like he likes. “She is a bitch.”

“I just got my license back. I worked so hard on that.” He puts his face in his hands, resting his elbows on his legs. You scoot towards him wrapping your arm around him.

“I know you did. But you said suspended? That doesn’t mean revoked, right?”

He shakes his head. “No, it doesn’t.”

“So…what does it mean?”

“It means, I can’t fly until it’s reinstated. I have to pee in a cup at random times during the week for 6 months to prove I’m clean before they will lift the suspension.”

“Well there you go!”

He looks up at you, his eyebrows pulling together. “There I go, what? We can’t afford for me to not have this income, Hermosa.”

“We’ll be ok-”

“You’re about to have a baby. Your income won’t happen for a bit, and that’s fine, but we needed this extra money and now I can’t provide that. All because of my bitch of an ex!”

“Frankie, we’ll be ok. If we have to borrow money, we can.”

“I’m not borrowing money.”

“Fine. Then I will borrow it.”

“No, I’ll…I’ll figure something out.”

“Frankie-”

“Just…can we just stop for tonight? I’m trying to process this.”

You open your mouth to argue but then see the exhausted look on his face. “Sure. Why don’t you come talk to us? That always makes you feel better.”

Leaning back against the headboard, you watch as Frankie scoots up the bed, getting level with your belly as you turn on your side so you’re not being squished. He chats to the baby for a while, about everything and nothing and by the time he’s done, his shoulders are relaxed and he’s not as angry anymore.

Elizabeth never fully admits to being the one to make the claim, but you see the look on her face through the car window when you make your next exchange for Aurelia after Frankie confronts her and you know she did it. There’s nothing you can say or do except wait it out. Frankie getting his license back will be all the revenge you’ll need.

—---- (Skip to the next line if you don’t want to read about labor. It’s not terribly graphic at all, but I know it’s not everyone’s thing)-------

“I never thought I’d have to beg you to have sex with me!” You stomp your foot, furious that Frankie won’t follow the doctor’s advice.

It had been a few weeks since his license was revoked and you were a week past your due date and not happy about it.

“Hermosa, I don’t-”

“Want to hurt me, I know, I know. But the midwife even said that sex is the best way to induce labor because of the prostaglandins in your semen.”

“You make it sound so sexy.”

“Frankie,” you pinch the bridge of your nose, taking a deep sigh. “I am the size of a house. I am miserable and sweaty and I haven’t seen my feet in months and I just want to have this baby already. If it’s my belly, I can turn around-”

“You are fucking gorgeous.”

“Then please?”

Frankie studies you for a long moment, his shoulders starting to slump and that’s when you knew you had him. “Alright, fine. We can try it. But we’re going slow, taking our time, ok?”

“No arguments here.”

Contractions started within an hour of Frankie cumming inside of you. You weren’t sure at first what you were feeling, but it sort of felt like a bad period cramp, so you assumed this must be it. Frankie timed them all for you, helping you breathe as they got more intense and closer together, and when they were close enough apart, Frankie helped you to his truck and drove to the hospital. In between contractions, you watched him as he drove, expertly winding his way through traffic, a look of focus on his face, a little furrow between his brow the only indication that this was not a normal day behind the wheel. How lucky you were to have this man, who can be calm in stressful situations, want to spend his life with you.

“What?” Frankie glances sideways at you before turning back to the road.

“You’re cute when you focus.”

A smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. “Remember how cute I am when you’re in transition.”

Before you know it, you’re in a labor and delivery room, barely spending any time in triage before they whisked you away. Hospitals can be a frustrating place to have a baby. Each nurse walks in and tells you to rest between contractions, try to get some sleep when you can, but then a new nurse comes along within an hour, always rousing you from sleep to take your blood pressure or put their fingers where you didn’t want them. You’d finally had enough of the latter and told a nurse to kindly fuck off, and denied internal exams unless it was a medical emergency. Frankie was by your side the entire labor, putting counter pressure on your hips when you needed it, pulling your hair from your face, sneaking you snacks because they forbid food and you said you’d chomp off your own fingers if they didn’t let you eat. Transition was hard, but all of a sudden, you knew it was time to push. Following your body, you get on all fours, taking your calming breaths, but then realizing that Frankie was not next to you. Turning your head, you see him, wide eyed and backing towards the door.

“I’ll just-” He points his thumb over his shoulder at the door.

“No, please. I need you here with me.” Another contraction has you breathing again and it’s a minute before he replies.

“You want me here?”

“Yes. I need you, Frankie.”

His eyes start to water over and it doesn’t occur to you then, but later that night it’l come to you - he wasn’t trying to dodge out of the delivery. He was having a flashback to when Elizabeth kicked him out of the room right when Aurelia was making her way into the world, and your heart hurt all over again. Frankie is at your side in an instant, turning to yell for the nurse who had surprisingly not come in for some random check.

“No time!” You yell, letting out a low groan, a technique you learned to help move baby down and out. Frankie’s face slides into focus mode and he moves behind you, just in time to catch the baby as it comes sliding out. He gathers the baby up, holding it close as it screams into the world. The nurse comes running in then, having heard the baby crying as you turn onto your back, arms outstretched to hold your baby, skin to skin.

“Baby is here! I didn’t even know you were transitioning! You were pretty quiet.”

The nurse bustles around and does her thing while Frankie transfers the baby to your bare chest. Tears stream down your face as you look at Frankie, who has tears of his own. He kisses the top of your head. “I am so proud of you, Hermosa.”

A few moments pass, the baby calming against your chest. “Hey Frankie? Is the baby a boy or girl?”

He slaps his hand to his forehead. “I forgot to look! I was so focused on catching the baby and whether it was breathing and not dropping it that I don’t think I looked! Here.” He lifts the hip of the baby and smiles.

“We have a son. I have a son!”

—---No more labor/delivery details—---

Luis Christian Francisco Morales was born perfect. 10 little fingers and 10 little toes, skin glowing. He was the perfect combination of you both, although you say he favors Frankie mostly.

You both settle into your roles as new parents, a lot of it being new to Frankie too, since Elizabeth had denied him so much. He was determined to not miss out on things this time, making sure you both had everything you needed and watching Luis when he stayed awake between feeds so you could have a nap. Aurelia cries the first time she sees Luis, big ugly sobs, and when Frankie finally calms her down enough to ask what’s wrong, she simply says “He…he’s…s-so so cute!” She happily takes up the mantle of “Big Sister” when she’s with you. Once, you wake from your nap only to find all 3 of them sleeping, Luis curled up on Frankie’s broad chest, Aurelia tucked onto his other side. You snap a photo and then quietly leave the room, taking the time to actually shower.

About a month in, Frankie comes back from dropping Aurelia with her mom. His eyebrows were pulled together in confusion as he stares down at his phone.

“Everything ok?” You ask, shifting the bottle you were feeding Luis with so it was a better angle.

“Yeah. Uh…Santi just texted me.”

“Oh yeah? Everything ok?”

“Uh..he says congrats on Luis, that he’s the cutest, and that he was out of service for a bit and he’s sorry he didn’t text earlier.”

“That’s ok. I know he’s busy.”

Frankie is quiet for a moment. “He offered me some work.”

“Work?”

“Well, not just me. Benny, Will, and Tom too.”

“What kind of work?” When he doesn’t answer, you look up at him. He kicks his shoes off and sits next to you on the couch.

“Consulting.” His eyes don’t meet yours, focusing instead on his fingers, where he starts to pick at the skin around his nails.

“Consulting.” You say in disbelief.

“Yeah.”

“Wait, like a mission?”

Frankie shrugs. “No? I mean, it’s just scoping out a place and looking for weaknesses. We give our report to the government he works with and then come back. Easy peasy.”

“If it’s so easy peasy, why aren’t you looking at me?”

He takes a deep breath and let’s it out slowly before looking at you. “It’s for a week. Just trying to find holes in a fence.”

“And why do they need you?”

“They need a pilot.”

“You don’t have your license.”

“It probably doesn’t matter over there.”

“Frankie, I don’t-”

“I’ts $17k, Hermosa. We need the money.”

“I don’t like it. So much can go wrong. Who’s house is it? Definitely no one that’s a stand up citizen. What happens if they find you first? No, I don’t like it.”

“Just..he’s coming to town tomorrow and we’re going to chat about it at Benny’s fight. Let me ask some more questions.”

“I don’t like it, Frankie.”

“I know. Just..let me talk to Pope.”

—----

It’s late the next night and you start to pace the floor of your bedroom, wondering when he’ll be back. He’d texted you to tell you Benny had won the fight and they were stopping at the bar for a quick drink before Olivia takes him home to play nurse.

That had been 2 hours ago.

The door finally opens downstairs and you quietly make your way to the kitchen, where you were hearing Frankie move around.

“Did I wake you?”

You shake your head. “I was awake. Luis is asleep.”

“Good, good. He go down ok?”

“Yeah, actually in his bassinet, but Frankie? How did it go?”

He gets a glass of water, chugging half of it before setting the glass down on the counter. “It’s just a recce. No live fire.”

“There’s a possibility of people shooting at you??”

“I mean, we are casing a place. It’s always possible if guards see you or-”

“No.”

He looks at you. “Hermosa, we need the money.”

“No.”

“I don’t have a job. We need this.”

“No money is worth your life, Frankie. None of your lives.”

“I won’t be in any major danger. I’ve done worse.”

“Yeah but you didn’t have a family then.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“No. No, I don’t like this, no.”

Frankie puts his hands on his hips, cocking one hip back as he looks at you. “We’re behind on bills.”

“So? I’ll borrow some money and you can stay.”

“Hermosa-”

“Or I can get another job? A new client. I can-”

“You just had a baby, so no.”

“Then I can-”

“Hermosa.” He says it firmly, that hip still cocked back as his eyes find yours, resolve in them.

“You’ve…you’ve already said yes, haven’t you?”

His tongue comes out to swipe across his bottom lip. “We leave Thursday.”

Silence stretches between you both as you stare at him in disbelief. “I can’t believe you made that decision without me.”

“I made the decision for us. We need the money.”

“Oh, fuck you and the money! I said I could borrow it. You’re just being stubborn!”

“I’m taking responsibility! We needed money and this just happens to come our way? I have to take it.”

“So you’re saying it’s fate that Santi texted you to lure you down there with the promise of $17k? You’re telling me that it’s just consulting and nothing else? Can you promise me that?”

He shrugs. “That was the original deal.”

“But can you promise me?”

He studies you for a moment, his eyes lingering on yours. “I’m going, Hermosa.”

And with that, you turn on your heel and walk out of the kitchen, closing the door behind you, wishing you could slam it.

The next couple days were torture. You kept trying to convince Frankie to stay, convince all of them to stay. You didn’t want any of them going. But they all said the same thing that Frankie said. “It’s just consulting.” Thursday morning, Tom comes to pick up Frankie pretty early. He leans over to kiss you in bed and you take one more shot at trying to get him to stay. Your fingers wind into his curls as you pull him to you, deepening the chaste kiss he had started.

“You can still stay,” you say, your voice barely a whisper.

“I’ll be back in a week, Hermosa. I love you.”

Tears streaming down your face, you reply. “I love you too. Please don’t die. Don’t any of you die.”

Frankie chuckles. “We’ll be fine. I’ll call you in a couple of days once we’re settled, ok?”

—----

Except, Frankie did not call in a couple of days. Neither did any of the others, nor had they reached out to Stacy, Molly, or Olivia. There was no one to call, no contact. They needed it that way for whatever consultation they were on. Stacey brought the kids over and Olivia came too, all of you opting to stay together and support each other at least during the day. As the few days stretched into a week, which stretched into nearly another, Olivia split her time between you and Stacy’s, offering to watch the kids so you each could have a moment to yourselves. She was at Stacy’s tonight, Luis snuggled and tucked in beside you as you channel surf the tv, landing on nothing in particular. It was day 10 and about 2am so all of the infomercials were on. You landed on one for some random kitchen gadget when your phone rings. You jump, grabbing for your phone to quickly hit the silent button before it wakes Luis. It was an unknown number, but definitely foreign and so you pick up right away.

“Frankie?”

“Hermosa,” he breathes a sigh of relief, his voice wavering on the last syllable of your name.

“Are you ok? Is everyone alright? Fuck, I’ve been terrified out of my mind.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. Things got…out of hand. I can explain more when I get home.”

“I understand. But you’re ok?”

“I’m ok. A little banged up but ok.”

“Everyone else?”

The way he’s silent has your throat closing up, making it difficult to speak. “Frankie?”

“It’s Tom.”

While Tom and you never were best friends, there’s no way you would’ve wished death on the man, nor would you have wanted to have his girls without a father.

—----

Frankie’s mom takes Luis while you drive to the airport, there to pick up Frankie as Olivia and Stacy were going to get Benny and Will. You had experienced all of the emotions these past 10 days, mostly anger and fear, but when you heard his voice, a part of you caved. You just wanted him home and were grateful that he was alive.

You spot Benny first, towering over a majority of the crowd as people file out security and head towards baggage claim. Then you see it - a dark blue standard heating oil cap bobbing next to Benny and suddenly, you’re running, pushing people out of the way as you run towards him, Frankie seeing you at the last moment, dropping his bag to gather you in his arms, burying his face in your hair. Olivia and Stacy copy your actions, Will hissing when Stacy throws her arms around him. He mutters “I’m ok.” before pulling her to him. Pulling back, you look up into Frankie’s black brown eyes, taking in all the features of his face, his laugh lines, the spot where his one dimple pops up, the fact that he had the audacity to shave his beard.

“You shaved,” you said simply, running a finger along his jawline.

“Yeah. But I’ll grow it back just for you.”

His lips crash to yours, his hands cupping the sides of your face as you press your body against his, fingers twisting in his shirt.

“I’m still mad at you,” you breathe out between kisses.

“Fair enough.”

Hugs were exchanged all around before everyone went to their homes. On the drive home, Frankie tells you everything, how it was just a consult but then they decided to try and do it themselves, how it would’ve all been fine if they hadn’t missed their window, or if Tom had listened when he said it was too much weight for the helicopter.

“Wait..you crashed?”

“Yeah. It was just a little crash.”

“Frankie!”

“It’s me. I landed us…mostly fine. We all walked away.”

He explains about the money and the people from the village, and how they had to trek up the fucking Andes mountains and down the other side. How a young man from the village had wanted revenge and got it, dying himself in the process. How they carried Tom down the side of the mountain, leaving a ton of money there, only to make it to safety and come back with a new chopper to get the money and safely make it back in a whole other country, which is where he called you from. By the end of the story you’re silent, tears quietly falling down your face as you realize how easily they all could’ve died on the side of those mountains. How one of them did.

“We each put about $5mil in a trust fund for Tom’s girls, made sure Molly was taken care of. It’s what Tom would’ve wanted and it’s…it’ll never be enough.”

“Hey,” you squeeze his thigh and he looks at you, tears on his cheeks. “You are not to blame. Every one of you knew what you were doing, knew there were risks. And while I can’t say who shot first as I wasn’t there, Frankie, it was self defense. And, I’m sorry, but knowing you and knowing Tom? I’d bet money on him shooting first.”

Frankie nods. “Yeah I guess so…. are you mad at me still?”

“I was all prepared to be so pissed at you, but honestly? I’m just glad to have you here and alive.”

Frankie spends the next hour between your legs and you spend the hour after that washing his hair and tending to his arguably minor wounds. Once you were clean and dressed, you made him something to eat, as you’d have to go get Luis shortly. When you set his glass of water down, he grips your wrist, pulling you into his lap.

“How are you feeling? Do you need to call your sponsor?”

He shakes his head. “Surprisingly, no. I think I’m just so grateful to be alive. And there’s one more thing.”

“What?” You ask nervously.

Frankie leans in closer, speaking low in your ear. “We got the rest of the money.”

“The $17k?” You said stupidly.

Frankie smiles and shakes his head. “A lot more than $17k.”

Your eyes widen. “What?”

“Millions, Hermosa. Each. Millions. We’re set for life, as are Luis and Aurelia.”

“Can we stay here?”

Frankie chuckles. “What?”

“I don’t want some giant mansion. I want to stay here. In our house.”

Frankie smiles and kisses you lightly. “We can do whatever you want to.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Besides take care of my family?”

“Besides that.”

“Once I get my license reinstated, I want to start my business.” His eyes light up as he talks about it, how he had already looked into getting retired choppers, and had gathered up some possible contacts, even scouted out some property. The only thing that had stopped him was the money, which was no longer an issue.

—----

6 months later, Frankie’s license gets reinstated, the owner clapping him on the shoulder and apologizing for everything. A month later, Frankie opens Chopperz, his veteran owned and operated helicopter tour business. It’s a instant success - apparently people really want to experience flying in various retired military equipment being flown by actual veterans. He even has repeat customers, although a lot of them are women and you catch more than one of them blushing when he talks to them.

Will and Stacy build a new house, much bigger to fit their expanding family, ecstatic that they were finally having a girl. He quits giving speeches almost immediately, staying home with his family and helping Frankie out when he needs it.

Benny and Olivia confessed that they had actually gotten married the day after Benny’s last fight, not able to wait any longer. When he came home, they took off to travel the world while their dream house was being built just down the road from Frankie and Will.

Santi went to Australia to find Yovanna and her brother, following them around until they got settled. He and Yovanna stayed together for a while, and he took some time for himself, wandering the world to see things when he wasn’t in a uniform. He eventually came back, building a house down the road from Frankie and the Millers. But to his first get together with everyone, he brought a girl, which wouldn’t have surprised anyone, but you could see the way he looked at her, constantly touching her lightly, pressing kisses to her head, shoulder, lips, anywhere he could. And she was doing the same, her eyes lighting up every time they looked at each other, so when you asked him later, away from everyone else, he scratches the back of his neck and admits that he thinks she’s the one, that she gets him, understands him, and doesn’t give a flying fuck about his money, which she didn’t even know about until now.

Frankie and you were finally happy, after all these years. Elizabeth finally stopped her shit, leaving you and Frankie to be happy and only communicating when it regards Aurelia. Instead of moving, you decide to expand your house, adding another couple of bedrooms because you want to eventually expand your family. Frankie is beyond happy, smiling at Luis and Aurelia as they run around their new treehouse in the backyard, feeling you wrap your arms around him from behind, kissing his broad back before moving to stand next to him, his arm around your shoulder as you both watch your kids.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask, turning your head up to him.

“How happy I am. How I wish we had started this all sooner, that it didn’t take such a shitty road to get here, and that it didn’t take us this long.”

You reach up and cup his face, pulling him to you as you kiss him, his soft lips lightly nibbling at yours.

“I’ll always wait for you, Frankie.”

—----

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General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe @greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @hauntedmama @giuliarogers @icanbeyourjedi @wretchedmo @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso @theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz @dirtytissuebox @gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @sarahmilesbendrix @booksarekindaneat @mrsudontknowme @swol-bear @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox @amneris21 @gooddaykate @alindeluce @avengers-fixation @paintballkid711 @harriedandharassed @ladykatakuri @marrianena @practicalghost @withakindheartx @batdarkladyvampir @justanotherkpopstanlol @mermaidxatxheart @alexxavicry @ichigodjarin @justreblogginfics @sullyosully @kmc1989

#frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #pedro pascal #frankie morales x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal character ff #pedro pascal character fanfiction #frankie morales x f!reader #francisco catfish morales

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ma3mae · 1 year

Note

Hi, can I request? I'm actually doing an exam and yeah it almost finished but I didn't finished 100%. Can you do a scenario where the reader is overthinking about the exam that she submitted. When I didn't finished I was like overthinking that I'm useless, failed, worthless, etc. ( i did that because I thought I can upgrade this semester but turns out I'm failed.) Thankyou so much of you can write this thing for me! (Also can I get a cuddle from Chuuya 🥺🥺🥺)

"Exams are a hassle"

Summary: Exams have been stressing you out for weeks now so how does your boyfriend comfort you? (Chuuya x Reader)

Genre: plenty of fluff but also a bit depressing ^ anon request tells u why

Warnings: a bit of self loathing and sleep deprivation bc exams are the best booster for self confidence I FEEL U ANON

A/N: thank you for your request!! I hope this will somehow be able to lift you up 😩✋ you can do it, anon!! Soon you'll be done and then u can relax and enter bsd brainrot again. Also didnt proofread this bc im writing this in a car so the nausea is lowkey kicking in 😩😩 hope this doesnt seem rushed omggg

Part 2 : In sickness and health

Nakahara Chuuya

our cheeto boy finally coming home after a normal day work

Like comepletely annihilating a mini terrorist organisation LMAO 🤡

he comes home to find yourself on the same spot and legit same position on the couch he has last seen you like FKING 12 HOURS AGO???

is instantly baffled and worried because??

"Are you seriously STILL preparing for your exam?? Don't you need a break??"

he immediately shuts himself up tho as he just sees the dark bags under your eyes and the red eyes and oh no :((

a sniffle follows as you bury ur face into your hands and this BOY IS JUMPING across the room to get to you

Jk but hes instantly by your side and cradling you in his arms

h-his light? the love of his life??? HATING HERSELF???? BC OF AN EXAM?????

u know what that means 🚓🚓🚓🚓🚓🚓

Jk no jail

Hes gonna come at you WITH FACTS THO 😤✋

********

Exhaustion was weighting onto you like nothing else. Your eyes were hurting at this point from having to look at the same screen for weeks now, only taking breaks to go to the toilet or either drown yourself in energy drink or coffee.

Your boyfriend would often be absent because of his work and he'd support you as always. You saw the worry in his eyes and he would ask if you'd like his help or if there's anything he could do for you.

But you kept refusing him since he had already enough on his shoulders in your eyes. He was probably even more tired than you yet still managed to shine so brightly whenever he'd look at you with so much adoration in his eyes for you, no matter how horrible his day went.

Slowly but surely felt something bubbling up inside you.

"No... I can't deal with this right now." you tried to convince yourself as you swallowed the lump inside your throat.

You looked at the time on the screen of your PC, trying to see through the blur infront of your eyes.

3:47am

Fuck, you were tired. You just wanted to quit everything, cry yourself to sleep and finally be at peace but no. This shitty exam just had to be one of the most important events in your life and you really couldn't fuck this one up.

As you buried your face in your hands, you could faintly hear keys rustling outside the door.

No! I can't let him see me like this!

Yet your tears just wouldn't stop and soon enough you heard him enter.

"Hey, doll. What the hell, you're still awake? I told you to just go to sl-!"

You didn't want to answer him. No, you simply couldn't even if you wanted to.

Only mere seconds passed before you felt gloved hands grasp both of your hands.

"Sweetheart... Listen to me."

You merely shook your head as he watched your shoulders tremble.

Clicking his tounge, he lifted you up with ease, pulling a sudden yelp out of you.

"No, Chuuya. Please put me back, I have to g-"

"Y/N, just listen to me for one damn time."

How could you refuse him? When you could feel his warmth so close to you.

Yet your guilt was frankly consuming your whole being. You could hear it in his voice.

Was he angry? Annoyed?

Because of you?

You just wanted to get through this exam by yourself. How could you burden him when he had already enough on his own plate. He didn't need someome like you just adding more onto it.

"I'm sorry, Chuu..."

You felt him sit down onto the couch, the soft light of the screen illuminating the space.

"For what?" He whispered to you as he began to rub circles onto your back.

"It's just..."

A sigh escaped as you felt his hands grasp yours, finally letting him see you fully for the first time and yet the sight made your heart clench.

"No, none of that shit anymore, alright? If you want to rant about it then rant. If you want to cry about it then cry. But no way in hell can you expect me to sit back any longer. It already went on for long enough these past few weeks. You need a break, Y/N. "

There he was.

The love of your life, wearing his heart on his sleeve for you as he poured it out.

Always being honest with you and laying himself bare.

Its what made you fall in love with him but you couldn't deny that you envied that part of him too.

Yet he always managed to make it a part of you too with words alone.

"But I can't. I'm afraid, Chuuya. Afraid that I'll fail this. Because then what? I don't know what I'm supposed to do if the worst would happen. I just-!"

You couldn't see anything anymore. Eyes so blurry as you tried your best to look at him.

And he still managed to leave you breathless as he wiped your tears away, feeling as if you'd be looking at the sunrise itself.

Always giving the energy to let you see the next day.

"I just don't want to burden you. Anyone. Even myself. But what am I supposed to do? I feel so useless everytime I memorize something and I just keep forgetting it because I just don't want to fail. What should I just d-"

Soft lips met yours, a slight tinge of the cherry chapstick you had gifted him on your taste buds.

"You are not a burden, Y/N. Not to anyone, you or even me. I meant if for every time when I asked if I could help. Yet you would always tell me you'd want to do this yourself and if my girlfriend wants to do that then why shouldn't I let her? But everyone has their limit and you need to understand that. I know you've been crying yourself to sleep these past few weeks and I hated myself for letting something like this happen. "

He let his lips linger on your right cheek.

"It's okay to be afraid."

Linger on your left.

"It's okay to cry.

Linger on your forehead.

"But the last thing I'd let you do..."

And lastly return back to your lips.

"Is you feeling like a burden. Feeling useless and everything that comes with it because you are none of that."

You gently took his face into your hands, letting your shaken eyes gaze into his firm ones.

"But what if I fail?"

"You won't. I know you can do it. I've seen how you are, Y/N. Hell you're one of the strongest people I know. You'll stand up for what's right. Every time I come battered, bruised and everything else, you'd always be there to comfort me, tend to my wounds, even feed me when you have to. Your presence alone would make the weight vanish on my shoulders, yet you always carry it without any complaints. So let me do the same to you and help you. "

You tightly wrapped your arms around him, burying your face into his shoulder.

"But it's just an ex-"

"You better not fucking tell me that its JUST an exam. I'm not listening to any of that for tonight."

You felt his lips stretch into a smile as he buried his face into the crook of neck.

"Let's just go to bed and I'll help you rehearse everything, okay?"

"Are you sure about that? Is your patience gonna hold out long enough?"

You let out an "acK!" as he suddenly tightened his arms around you.

"Don't underestimate me, doll. You've seen what I can do so rehearsing for a puny exam won't be a challenge at all. So let's-!"

He lifted the both of you up with his ability, floating towards your bedroom.

"-just sleep already because we both deserve it after tonight, alright?"

You couldn't help but chuckle at his sudden silliness.

"Oi, what are you laughing at"

"No, nothing. Just appreciating my boyfriend, his handy power and the love he'd always give me."

"D-Don't be so sappy. Rest and save that energy for tomorrow."

"Hmm, oh well. But I still wanna say that I love you though."

"Out of nowhere... but I love you too. Always will."

*****

Anyway yall rehearse that shit together and ur boy being the one to take breaks bc bro wtf have u been learning???? This some science level shit?? But he gives u snacks, cuddles, support and everything you need

bro's gonna pamper you as soon as you finally had ur exam and you gotta restrain him from showering you with gifts bc of how happy he is

HIS future wife deserves the best after all 😤😤😤✋✋✋✋

if u tell him that he doesnt need to buy you so much and that you'd be happy with him just being there then oh...

dont expect him to hold back after being so cute 🤡 especially after yall havent done anything for weeks probably so time to catch up 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️

#bsd x reader #chuuya x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #nakahara chuuya

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damagedintellect · 1 year

Text

Dazai Osamu x reader

💌 Reading into the palms of isekai bullshit:

Chapter 7 💌

Summary: You were no stranger to isekai bullshit. It’s not like you had a problem with it. The genre took over the anime scene for years now but you try to stay away from thinking about how you would handle the situation. The last time you thought about inserting yourself into your favorite show you wrote a 100k word xReader fic for your favorite characters and you didn’t want to spend all your time consumed by the brainrot again. Never again, you promised yourself that was the last time you’d let the devil on your shoulder win. You clicked on chapter 1 to start the adventure over again but when you opened your eyes and saw Dazai O-FUCKING-samu getting choked by Kunikida you honestly hoped it was a dream.

Notes: With Artfight slowing down on my end I have come to feed the hungry readers...also idk why this chapter turned out so angsty bc that wasn't the plan but yeah know what it sounds about right. Another isekai so I can play around with BSD like dolls.

★ Chapters [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] ★

💌 Word count: 2,286 💌 <= Previous Chapter | Next Chapter =>

A few days later was the day Kunikida had a very important schedule to uphold. Everyone was left to their own devices and it was a nice change of pace compared to the past few weeks. Kunikida had left a few minutes ago while Ranpo was still complaining about the lack of snacks. You had mostly finished up your tasks for the day and were acting like you were still busy so Ranpo wouldn't bother you. It's been weeks since you were relieved of your snack fetching duties but you could feel him practically directing all of his grievances at you specifically. There were other people in the office. Why did it always have to be you who gets the snacks? Aside from Kunikida and Yosano, everyone else was here. You observe Dazai as he agonizes over not being able to ruin Kunikida's day yet. You still don't know what the hell happened the other night.

All you know is that Ranpo made a suggestive comment about it which didn't help you piece anything together. Dazai had been acting weirder than normal too. It's like he was having more mood swings than usual and you’re not sure how much of it is an act. You are also not the only one who's noticed the brunette’s weird behavior, even Atsushi said something about it. Although he thought you and Dazai had an argument because apparently the brunette would tense up at the mention of your name. Even more puzzling was that the moment you were left alone with Dazai he would act one of two ways. One being that he would reluctantly cling to your side, hovering over you like he was expecting or waiting for you to do something or two he would scoff and make some excuse, no matter how stupid, to disappear. Like he actually made it a point to tell you instead of just leaving like he has in the past. Almost like he was reasoning more with himself then having the goal be informing you of his absences. As much as it was intriguing it was almost hard to watch but you didn’t want to ask him about it because who knows what can of worms that will open and you weren’t ready.

Speaking of can of worms, Ranpo has been calling your name trying to get your attention. You slammed your hands on the desk standing up to look at your senpai. "Okay I get it, what snacks do you want?"

"Chips, pocky, ramune and you know what it feels like a melon pan kind of a day!" He smiles wide, kicking his feet up on his desk. Cocky bastard.

You rolled your eyes "So the works then got it," you looked at Dazai who was still moping. "Anyone else need me to pick up anything?" The room filled with a chorus of "No"'s as you grabbed your wallet and made your way out the door. The agency would reimburse you for Ranpo’s snack habits later.

Dazai watched you leave. It's been infuriating that you refused to ask about that night and seemed to brush it off like it didn't matter. So much for that confession of yours. He was aware that, yes, technically he wasn't supposed to know that. He promised you he wouldn't tell, but you told him yourself. He can't get over the fact you haven't picked up his bitterness on the subject or that you are blatantly ignoring it all together. He doesn't understand what your play is and moreover he can't get over the irrational thought of wanting to touch you. It has been driving him insane. He doesn’t get these kinds of impulses but since you shared your feelings with him he wants to be close to you in any way you’ll have him. You were also the one who saw through and called him out on his bullshit, not many could do that so why has that stopped? Is it because you need to see his palm again? Did the alcohol mess with your talent that badly? All he has is more questions and really no way of getting answers out of you unless he talks to you like a normal person. Dazai was by no means a normal person and what was the point if he wasn't supposed to know this information to begin with. If it was anyone else he wouldn't care about the confrontation or lack thereof but he does now and he hates it.

The sound of an incoming text rang out through the office. He looked over at your desk. It was your phone, you forgot it since you stormed off. He sighed, reaching for it. You would be back soon but he was bored and all of his attempts to shake up Kunikida weren’t working either. Was he losing his touch? If he sent Kunikida a message from your phone he would probably have a better chance at fooling the blonde. When he opened up the messenger he nearly dropped the phone as he read who the incoming text was from.

Chuuya<3

Hey, I have time today if you wanted to do the thing

Dazai gripped the phone tightly, his knuckles turning white. Why was Chuuya messaging you and what was with that contact photo! You were both naked in bed. You looked like an ethereal being while the smug redhead was holding you like he owned you, giving Dazai eyes that were taunting him. It made his blood boil. Was this why you didn’t care to find out about that night? Was this all really just a game to you and how could you betray him with Chuuya of all people! Dazai grit his teeth. Realistically he shouldn't care so why does he feel like this? He knows how demented his line of thought was but for the first time he let his jealousy cloud his judgment. You guys weren't exclusive, heck you guys weren't even anything to begin with. Just two coworkers who sometimes hung out outside of work but still he felt it was a low blow. He needs to stop his train of thought before he does something he'll regret. His emotions were already festering by the time you finally made it back to the office. He felt that itch again, the sudden urge to touch you. Why? He didn't understand it at all.

You dropped the bag of snacks on Ranpo's desk hoping that the ramune crushed a bunch of chips. This is the last time you’d be going on his snack run or else you were going to- you know what you don’t know what you could do as a counter. Ranpo kind of has you by the balls since he knows your secret. You deflated once you realized that he could actually make your life a living hell if he wanted. “Enjoy.” you sigh slouching as you turn around colliding with someone as you were grabbed by the arm and hastily pulled into the infirmary.

Dazai had dragged you across the office without a word. It was unsettling for the others to witness. Atsushi was concerned he'd never seen such a grim expression on Dazai before. Could it be because he failed at tricking Kunikida and he needed to take it out on someone else? "Shouldn't we stop them?" He asked warily but no one made a move. Everyone continued on like this was an everyday occurrence.

Ranpo only kicked back further into his chair, opening the bag of chips "Leave 'em. You might get scarred for life if you try to intervene." Ranpo rolled his eyes. This is what you get for playing with fire. Although he doesn't exactly know what Dazai saw on your phone, he does know that the two of you were a ticking time bomb and have been the whole week since the fall of the guild. He only hopes you know what you’re doing because babysitting you was not his job unless you were getting him more snacks.

As soon as the door locked, Dazai pushed you against the wall, easily pinning your wrist so you couldn't escape. His tone was dark. It would have made you shake with terror if it wasn't so hot. Right now, the position you were in, was a sexual fantasy of yours for sure.

"What happened to not being so easy? Huh?" He accused you, almost demanding an answer. It was jarring to hear him be this intense.

“Um, ow! I don’t even know wha-” He cut you off with a messy kiss, aggressively biting your bottom lip as if to say don’t lie to him. You actually had no idea what he was talking about. In fact you almost thought this was all of his pent up emotions from the past few days.

"Such a pathetic lie when you throw yourself at anyone who gives you the slightest bit of attention. Tell me was I not-"

"Who am I throwing myself at if not you?" You spat back not waiting for him to finish his monologue. You were furious because from your point of view you have no idea what the fuck he's going on about. He's the one who's been acting strange. If anything you should be the one yelling at him for not talking with you if he had an issue. Although you should have seen that coming. Technically it's what he was doing right now so you guess he did get there eventually but still you were mildly flustered and enraged with the delivery.

Dazai was silently scanning your eyes. You weren't lying to him. His fingers were digging into your wrist and your heart rate remained the same. Your eyes were clear and there were no obvious tells that your statement was false. He fucked up. He was wrong. He knew he was from the start but the impulses were too much for the rational part of his brain to stop while he was ahead. This is why he distanced himself. He wasn't capable of having nice things. He's spent so long waiting for the other shoe to drop he can't even trust that things could be different this time. As he loosened his grip on you the words cascaded from his mouth. "Then why did you sleep with Chuuya?" It shouldn't hurt him but it made his heart clench just the same. Dazai has had his fair share of one night stands. Sometimes it was nice to feel a human connection with another person. It should be no different but this was you. When did you become so important to him?

Your eyes widened in shock. He saw the photo. The trap you had set up weeks ago. Dazai was jealous, it worked. That's why he'd been acting weird. How long has he kept this to himself? Was that why he wanted you to ask about that night and the things you don't remember? Before you could register your actions your body moved on its own to close the distance between you with a tender kiss. Caressing his face you looked him in the eyes. It was now or never. "Dazai, I am in love with you! Chuuya was only trying to help make you jealous so I could gauge if you even remotely liked me back." You blurted it out in a huff as you watched his expression drop and become unreadable.

"Well it's a shame I don't feel the same because right now I think I hate you the most." There was no emotion to his words and he practically vanished out of thin air. Dazai needed space while he figured out what was going on in his head. Isolation was the only thing he knew that would bring him said clarity. He doesn’t regret his word choice but he also doesn’t think hate was the right word for it. He was irritated for sure but he didn’t exactly hate you. He definitely hated the situation though. The brunette was still wondering how you managed to get under his skin like this. Now that he wasn’t in the same room as you he understands the train of thought behind the picture and how Chuuya’s involvement led to the prank. It was partially his fault you even met to begin with. This also answered his questions about the redhead after the encounter. Looking back this must be how the others feel when he pulls one over on them. It was not a pleasant feeling.

The room spun around you in a blur. It took you longer than you would have preferred to get yourself together and rush out of the infirmary. All the others pretended to mind their own business but you didn’t see Dazai so he probably bailed out of the office. You had to fix this before it was too late. Although something in the back of your mind wasn’t adding up. Why now? If he knew about the picture since that night why was it only today that he brought it up in a blind furry? There had to have been something to trigger this reaction. You don’t bother making an excuse to leave the office but you do grab your phone from Dazai’s desk. It didn’t click until you were halfway down the stairs that you had left your phone on your desk so how did it end up on Dazai’s. You frantically checked your messages and sure enough there was one from Chuuya. You frowned as you messaged him back blatantly lying about the other’s reaction to the prank. On one hand it did work as intended but how did it end up like this?

★ ★ ★ Pervious Chapters [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] ★ ★ ★

#the BSD isekai au that no one asked for #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x reader #bsd fanfic #bsd x reader #bsd imagines

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graneymar · 2 years

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Can you write an imagine about baby fever? (With richarlison or ney)

💗💗

#2. RICHARLISON: BABY FEVER

SUMMARY: above

WARNINGS: none

PAIRING: Richarlison x fem!reader

My best friend just gave birth to her first child a few weeks ago - a beautiful babygirl called Liliana. I've spent every free second with Nessa and her daughter. Whenever Richarlison went to training or met his friends, I was immediately on the way to visit my two girls, bringing a couple of new shirts, toys or stuffed animals for Liliana every single time. I knew Nessa since I was like 10, so my best friend of almost 15 years having a baby actually felt like I suddenly had a child myself.

Nessa was invited to a birthday party and asked Richarlison and me to babysit. As soon as she stepped into our apartment, Richarlison took Liliana and covered her little face with hundreds of kisses, making her smile slightly. "She’s allergic to cow milk, so please make sure you only feed her that", Nessa said, handing me a pack of baby food, "And please don’t cover her with blankets without being in the room, she could pull it over her face. There’s a sleeping sack in the bag." She continued on telling us what we should be careful of, until Richarlison interrupted her. "Ness, don’t worry. It’s not the first time I'm having a baby over. Y/N is an aunt of two. We'll be okay, relax." Nessa sighed out pouting her lips, "I know, it’s just the first time leaving her with someone so long. Please call me if somethings unclear. Don’t hesitate!" Richy and I nodded and told her to have fun before she eventually left our apartment. "Let’s get the party started", Richarlison laughed.

Since Liliana was only three months old, she almost spent the whole time sleeping. She would wake up and cry every now and then, signaling she was hungry. Every time I was about to get up and prepare the food for her, Richarlison stopped me and did it instead.

"No amor, I'll do it", he insisted and jumped up once she was crying again, stopping me from getting up another time. I grabbed his hand and smiled as I looked up to him, "Let me do it at least once." He pressed his lips together. "But… no, please. She’s so adorable."

"I know she is, but you’ve been with her all day. How about you look for a movie meanwhile, hm?", I suggested. He groaned, but finally nodded and dropped himself back onto the couch, clicking through Netflix. I prepared Lilianas bottle, checked the temperature and picked her up before feeding her on my arm. Richarlison watched us with a wide grin. "What?", I chuckled when I noticed.

"Have you ever thought about getting a baby anytime soon?" My eyes widened at his question, I almost let Lilianas bottle fall in shock. That was something I didn’t expect, for sure. "Uhm, I.. uh", I stuttered, refusing to look at him while my cheeks heated up, "How soon? I mean, yes I would love to have a baby some day, but… soon?" Richy quietly laughed as he noticed how nervous I got. "I have actually been thinking about it a lot, especially after every time I see Liliana. We both obviously love kids, we do have some experience. Finances are positive", he paused for a second, "And I can't imagine a better mother for my children. I really want to grow a family with you, Y/N. I'm not saying it has to happen right away, but maybe we could… you know, just see what happens?" I got so overwhelmed by the things Richarlison was saying, I didn’t even notice Liliana was choking on her food. "Oh oh oh", Richy exclaimed, taking Liliana out of my arm and held her over his shoulder, slightly tapping her back. The way he didn’t even care about the vomit on his shirt - he simply cleared her up and continued rocking her back and forth on his arms while having a huge smile on his face. I breathed in heavily, "Let’s see what happens." He quickly turned around to look at me. The disbelief, but also the joy in his eyes was clear to see. "Really?", he asked. I nodded, nibbling on my bottom lip. "I know you'll be a great dad", I started, "And maybe I'll be a pretty good mother too." Richarlison softly pecked your lips and stroked your stomach. "Richarlison Jr. in the making", he said, making you both laugh.

#football imagine #football imagines #imagine #imagines #richarlison #richarlison fanfic #richarlison smut #richarlison x reader #richarlison x you #richarlison imagine #richarlison imagines #richarlison fluff #pombo #richi

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iviarellereads · 10 days

Text

The Dragon Reborn, Chapter 42 - Easing the Badger(1)

(THIS PROJECT IS SPOILER FREE! No spoilers past the chapter you click on. Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For the link index and a primer on The Wheel of Time, read this one! Like what you see? Send me a Ko-Fi.)

(Dragon fang icon) In which we finally learn what that smell was.

PERSPECTIVE: Perrin enters Illian, it's marshy so there are bridges sometimes, he misses blacksmithing. He notices two palaces on either side of a large square, and Faile explains that the bigger one is the King's Palace, and the Council of Nine were allowed to build any palace as long as it's no larger than his, so they built the same palace two feet smaller in every direction. So it is with the relationship between the two, ever since.

Loial's presence isn't novel here, and he worries that Ogier come here so often, and from his own stedding at that. Perrin tells him Moiraine values him too much to let them just take him back if he doesn't want to go.

Perrin's hearing is sharp enough to hear Moiraine say "something is wrong in this city". Perrin wonders what he's not seeing. On closer inspection, he can feel it, in the way the people are acting, but nothing specific. Many people look angrier than they should be. They finally come to an inn called Easing The Badger, its sign a badger dancing next to a man with a shovel. Perrin assumes it's some old local story he's never heard.

Moiraine is known as Mistress Mari here, and she asks the innkeeper if people are angrier than usual. The innkeeper, Nieda, says the previous winter was harsh, she woke to ice in the washbasin a couple of mornings, even. A winter not seen in a thousand years here, surely, almost enough to make her believe in traveler's tales of frozen water falling from the sky.(2)

Nieda says that there's a new lord on the Council of Nine, Lord Brend, nobody remembers hearing his name before winter, but he was raised to the Council within a week of entering the city, and now he's the strongest of the Nine.(3) She has strange dreams about him sometimes, too, walking in strange places with staircases like mazes. Nieda says she does maunder on, she'll show them to their rooms, and then a nice dinner. Moiraine asks what ships would be sailing to Tear, and Nieda says, well, none! The Council forbade all ships sailing to Tear a month ago, and the King never contradicted it.

They go to their rooms, and Perrin worries at Moiraine's fear as Nieda talked. They all wash up and make their way back, and Loial tells Perrin the Ogier stonemasons left with their work unfinished last winter, very unusual. Soon, everyone’s down for supper, at which Moiraine is stiff and distracted. Also, the meal is focused around fish. Faile hates fish, so Perrin taunts her by smiling around a big mouthful of his, and Moiraine tells her to eat, any meal could be her last, especially with them.

As Nieda clears the fish dish and lays out an assortment of cheeses, Perrin smells something vile, the same something he smelled in a few other places this book. He sees six men with ordinary faces crossing the floor toward them. He yells "They have knives!" and before the bouncer, Bili, can even cross the floor, the group have taken out all six.(4)

Moiraine heads for the door, Lan intercepts her, and Perrin can just hear their conversation. Lan says he pledged to keep her whole, but she says she must go alone. He protests, but...

She cut him off. “Heed me, Lan. Should I fail, you will know it, and you will be compelled to return to the White Tower. I would not change that even if I had time. I do not mean you to die in a vain attempt to avenge me. Take Perrin with you. It seems the Shadow has made his importance in the Pattern known to me, if not clear. I was a fool. Rand is so strongly ta’veren that I ignored what it must mean that he had two others close by him. With Perrin and Mat, the Amyrlin may still be able to affect the course of events.(5) With Rand loose, she will have to. Tell her what has happened, my Gaidin.” “You speak as if you are already dead,” Lan said roughly. “The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills, and the Shadow darkens the world. Heed me, Lan, and obey, as you swore to.” With that, she was gone.

=====

(1) Begin the sex jokes again! You may recognize this inn name from TGH chapter 9. Bayle Domon gets some trouble there before he goes off to meet the Seanchan. Even the places get recycled in this series where appropriate. (2) Yeah, consider Illian just about synonymous with Florida or the parts of California that don't bother to look a little north and west at their mountaintops. (I mean that as fondly as I can mean it for places I've never been and have no interest in seeing for myself.) The last time I read this chapter according to my notes was late in the winter, with the snow piled at least a good 2 meters/well over 6 feet deep. (You may have heard of lake effect snow, now multiply that to Atlantic ocean effect snow, that's what I get where I live.) (3) That's a suspicious rise to power. Do we have any clues to what might have happened in, oh, the last year or so, any people maybe freed from three thousand years of sleep who might seek power for themselves and be able to attain it without attracting any unwanted outward attention? (4) Ah, so the smell was Gray Men after all. (5) Er, hate to break it to you, but she doesn't have Mat anymore anyway.

#wheel of time #wot #the wheel of time #twot #the dragon reborn #tdr #wot dragon fang icon #perrin aybara #faile bashere #moiraine damodred #lan mandragoran #loial #nieda sidoro #bili (wot)

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mirrortouchedsea · 1 year

Text

Enstars Rarepair Week Day 3: Domestic/Stargazing

Word count: 554

Pairing: Tatsumi Kazehaya/Shu Itsuki

---

It was the middle of the night when Tatsumi woke up. He checked his phone for the time. 2:23am. Much too early for him to be awake, but he didn’t feel tired enough to go back to sleep any time soon.

He unlocked his phone and took a quick look at his Hold Hands messages, an unread message from Shu was sent about ten minutes ago.

Shu: Kazehaya, are you awake?

Shu: Ah, it is rather late for you. Apologies for the disturbance.

Tatsumi chuckled softly.

Tatsumi: It’s okay, I couldn’t sleep. What do you need?

Shu: I was visiting the countryside in France for inspiration on an outfit. It has to be themed around something in nature and I regret to say that I’ve been struggling with it.

Tatsumi paused for a moment before swinging himself out of bed. He grabbed his cane and made sure he hadn’t woken up Koga before leaving the room.

Tatsumi: I might have an idea.

Shu: By all means, tell me what you’re thinking.

Tatsumi made his way to the roof, careful again to be quiet as he opened the door. He knew that a simple photo or video wouldn’t be enough to capture their beauty, but he hoped that maybe the sky in his home country would spark some inspiration in Shu. Tatsumi pressed the button for a video call.

It rang for a moment and Tatsumi was worried he had been a bit too forward this time, but Shu quickly answered, the screen black.

“Shu-san, turn your camera around so I can see you.”

The screen changed as Shu grabbed the phone and it went to turn as if Shu meant to point his external camera at himself before seeing the button to swap to the right one.

“Why did you need to call me?” He asked, voice quiet through the tinny speaker.

“I just wanted to hear your voice, that’s all. And I thought maybe talking out loud might help you work through your ideas.”

Shu grumbled a little bit before agreeing with Tatsumi.

Tatsumi flipped his own camera to face the night sky, stars twinkling gently above him.

“What constellations do you see, Shu-san?” he asked, pulling the camera back to try and widen the shot.

“Ah, there’s Altair, and Vega should be visible tonight too.”

“It is almost time for the Tanabata festival.”

“Ah, is it that time of year already?”

Tatsumi hums in affirmation and watches Shu scribble some notes on his notepad.

“I think I’ve figured it out, thank you. Apologies for waking you up for something so trivial.”

“Fufu, don’t worry about it Shu-san. It was nice getting to talk to you like this. I just wish we could spend Tanabata together.”

“It is a little short notice but…I might be able to make some arrangements to visit. Kagehira has been begging me to come back for the festival as well.”

Tatsumi turned his camera back around and smiled. “That would be great, Shu-san.” He yawned.

“Ah, I’ll let you go now. Thank you again, Kazehaya.” Shu clicked the end call button before Tatsumi could say anything.

Tatsumi, with the thought of being able to spend the Tanabata festival with his boyfriend fresh in his mind, walked back down to his dorm with a smile on his face.

#no notes on this one its just cute tatsushu stuff #es rarepair week #enstars rarepair week #enstars #ensemble stars #tatsumi kazehaya #shu itsuki #tatsushu #<- entirely invented between me and lis do not question it. anyway

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inkofamethyst · 10 months

Text

November 20, 2023

Weekend thoughts.

So I've had an album to help deal with anxiety for the past couple of years, and I think I now have an album to promote self-confidence and hype myself up before an event. Beyonce's Renaissance has been played regularly this semester (almost) straight through. It's great for a power walk to campus.

UGH okay so six months to the day after my last day of undergrad my school-supplied free HBO Max subscription was cruelly ripped from my grasp without warning. I knew it was coming eventually, and I've been working on clearing my watchlist for months. Unfortunately, their bet was totally on point. I immediately resubscribed. And best believe imma watch every CENT's worth (I watch a minimum of 1-2 Batman episodes a day these days, and when you consider the convenience, the cost isn't bad). So it seems that my streaming service hopping has begun, as it's neither necessary nor responsible to pay for several services that all have the same role. (I might let Max go over break to focus on reading and watching shows on my parents' accounts at home.)

My... ceramics-friend (a cohort member) invited me to a friendsgiving she was hosting (she knows a lot of people who live in the area), and it was not a bad time at all. I get nervous in situations (lol there could be a full stop right here) where I only know the host, but a couple of people I knew/was acquainted with showed up and that made things a bit better. I employed my usual strategy of "find a place to sit and then stay there" and that was good. I didn't stay to the end, but pretty close. I did meet some really cool people!! (Side note: I don't really drink bc I don't care for the taste, but we're now at the age where a goldenish drink is more likely to be gin with other flavors than apple juice and now I know that it is absolutely necessary to ask what something is before filling a glass (but best believe I finished my whole (tiny) glass like a big girl). I tell people that I'm a bit stunted due to covid but truthfully it's just because I'm pathetic boring uh uhh.. intensely introverted (still gotta mind how I talk about myself these days, even an unchecked joke could set my progress back)).

This summer I'd bought two pairs of Docs (one on a whim and then another that I'd wanted for years and years) because they were both ridiculously discounted. I'd broken in the impulse pair over the last several months (1461 patents, they're going to be my ~conference docs~ I think) then a week or so ago decided to start breaking in the other pair (1460 Nappa). Ngl, I thought they were a huge mistake at first. Tight, inflexible, tough to put on. My feet HURT. But. After a couple of days out (only a few hours at a time), they feel quite a bit better. Still months to go, I know, but I feel relieved.

Last thing: after having my third eye opened to the idea of building equity through a house and feeling intense rage against the idea of renting for the rest of my life (specifically if I choose to settle in one place), I've come to realize that this foreverrent thing touches more than just housing. I want to own my favorite albums now, my favorite movies, shows. I don't want my ability to consume my favorite media to be at the mercy of a streaming service. The most difficult part of that though (after figuring out the list of what I want to own and also paying for it over time) is figuring out where to store the hard copies. This might be a problem I spend more time working out this summer when there's less going on, but now that I'm ~radicalized~ I just wanted to state that it's on my radar. It's probably not reasonable to chip away at this while I'm in this apartment since it won't be my final place in grad school and I don't want to move more boxes than needed.

Today I'm thankful for.. uhm uhh OH I'm thankful that the clicking noises don't wake me up at night anymore.

I wonder how much of that half circle skirt I'll be able to complete at home over break [edit, four days later: none]. May have to hem during winter break.

Also the M9 reunion post-apogee was SO FUN k bye

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voasprofile · 2 years

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vil with an s/o who is a singer and love music from their orig world

I could probably shorten the title but eh I'm new cut me some slack

being brought to whole other world without knowing anything about it can really take a toll in our little readers hearts

luckily they have their phone with them, music really brings comfort to people. especially because it was the only thing familiar to them. what's in it? well yk only the most heart swelling, gut wrenching, eyes watering, hair pulling music you could ever think of

either that or the most back arching, eyes rolling, butterfly giving music

or yk like a psychopath like me, both. on shuffle

ok neways

vil had known of the prefect, not very hard to

they were the talk of the school, from being magicless, to defeating what like 4 overblots, or being in trouble like every other hour

they were rather infamous to put it nicely

what he didn't know them from is their music

like holy hell, how tf did they get so popular? when did this happen?

well tbh he didn't find out until he saw people discussing about a new underground artist

after that he forgot to search up their name whoops

until he saw a vid from twistedtok raving abt this artist

so he was like eh why not and searched them up

it was yuu(pun not intended) he was kinda surprised like weren't you just fighting jamil 4 weeks ago?

browsing to yours list of song was like browsing through a teenagers diary

angst, angst, oh a horny song, and another one, and another one, and oh wait this sounds like- nvm it's angst

and it was just yuu recreating their fav songs and publishing it cause their phone died and twst doesn't have the same charger things

not me promoting but think somewhat this playlist of mine

you had garnered a lot of attention, for someone who plagiarized /j

don't tell anyone, but vil would totally listen to your music

i mean come on

but he wont admit it, that little bitch

during vdc camp, he would wear them small ear phones and would guard his phone with his life, like no one needs to know abt this

except rook knows, he always knows

and epel, because he once barged in vil's room for smth idk he seems like the type to do that

you only found out because vil asked you to play the song they were supposed to be practicing on. which was supposed to be the most recent one

but when you clicked play it was your song. let me put something totes not embarrassing for the both of you, hmm let's see

i wanna be your slave by maneskin yuu

the song was the next song as the practice song just ended a few seconds prior

silence engulfs the room your voice singing the most vile things anyone from here has ever heard you say

you kinda just froze like what were you supposed to be feeling?

why does it have to be this song?

so you were internally freaking out still frozen as rook puts it on himself to save two prideful beings egos. and walks to you and slowly gets the phone from your grip before pausing the song

while vil was witnessing the end of his life his career with an open mouth

"so you like my songs eh?"

"shut up literally shut up"

wow what a non-toxic way for the beginning of a beautiful bloom of a relationship

there was a lot of songs that reminded you of vil yet you only realized at like 2 months into the relationship

so you began dedicating love songs to him and only him cause like duh he's your so

but like the songs that are erotic and sad like real sad are literally dedicated to no one

cause your a moody little bitch who when even the slightest bit sad release a whole ass song with the most heart breaking lyrics

when asked in an interview on who hurt you, yuu were like

"haha myself"

or like abt those sussy songs

"i was feeling down so i had to cheer myself up"

or those songs dedicated to vil

"i am madly in love"

you two were almost the epitome of a picture perfect couple

almost(i thought abt making an angsty ending but i decided against it)

that bitch rook always steals your thunder

you were performing a new love song to vil and asking his thoughts about posting it

and rook comes up and recites a poem right. in. front. of. you.

you almost grabbed him by the neck and not let go for 30 minutes. by accident of course

so it was like a competition to the both of you

and the vibes were like yuu being like

"homewrecker"

and rook being like

"lmao what you talking abt neways. your skin as fair as snow and as smooth as porcelain-"

cue you throwing a vase at him

overall 10/10 would be a cute relationship

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst yuu #twisted wonderland #vil shoenheit x reader #vil x reader #vil twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x yuu #Spotify #voa writes

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sysba · 2 years

Text

cal x edith - first kiss

[cal belongs to @night-triumphantt ] wc: 1.2k a/n: this week had valentine's day and ockissweek and well, i'm equally bad at both but i drabbled caledith first kiss for my and judie's eyes lol there's 2 parts before this because they literally take like a year just to confess i hate them sm anyway enjoy void i'm not gonna proof read shit

“Christ, I’m beat.”

Edith winces when her back hits the counter. The shop looks nothing better than it did a few hours ago; knocked-over boxes of music records everywhere, papers and books all over the floor, and the clock marking 11PM as she sighs.

From his less-than-comfortable seat on that same floor, close as he can be without letting his knee touch hers, Cal smiles at her.

“I can finish this up. Maybe you can get some sleep upstairs?”

‘Should’, ‘could’, ‘maybe’... Cal somehow mastered the art of caring for Edith without ever telling her what to do. It works, most of the time.

But this time he’s not even done talking and she’s already objecting, so he rushes to add, “I don’t mind! Really. It’s been a busy day, and you haven’t stopped for a moment.”

Neither has he, but it doesn’t seem to matter much. Edith shakes her head almost too fondly, a little scoff of amusement leaving her lips before she takes a swig of her drink (an abominable mix of tequila and Kahlúa with far too much of the latter to be called appealing).

She seems to consider something for a moment, eyes narrowing just barely as she nibbles on the inside of her cheek.

“Maybe we should just leave it. Close the shop for a day or something.” She says it nonchalantly but frowns once she notices the odd look on Cal’s face, who’s staring at her with a mix of concern and confusion and a secret third thing. “What?”

“Nothing,” he replies a bit too quickly, a deer in the headlights stumbling on his words, “I, uh… You never take a day off, it took me off guard.”

He’s mumbling, but his low voice reaches her anyways because she clicks her tongue at him in mock offence– Cal doesn’t even notice, too distracted by the playful smile that follows.

“Yeah, well,” Edith nods towards the mess surrounding them with something like resignation. “All things considered, we might deserve a break.”

Cal huffs a small laugh at that, but neither of them shows any sign of wanting to get up. It takes him a moment before he goes back to his task, patiently sorting through a bunch of vinyl.

Edith makes no move to stop him, apparently too engrossed in her drink. He thinks her cheeks are a bit darker, but whether it’s the alcohol or a trick of the dim lights he’s not quite sure.

There’s a comfortable silence lulling them, the first they’ve had in a while; they haven’t really been able to share a space like this lately, not without a pervading sense of awkwardness making either of them run away at the first occasion.

In fact, they’ve barely ever been alone for more than a couple minutes for the past few months. Not ever since–

Hoping Edith won’t notice, Cal subtly shakes his head to try and banish the memory of their last real conversation. It doesn’t work, it never has.

‘You love me.’ Her accusation rings loud in his mind even months later, still vicious, still true.

He can still taste that same bitter desperation he felt as she walked away that time. The metallic taste of it sits on his tongue, and he can’t seem to swallow it down, so much so that he almost begs her to stay once again.

He looks at Edith once more. Her eyes are closed now, head tilted back to rest against the counter, offering the full sharp curve of her neck to him; it’s odd, seeing her so vulnerable. Like a nerve exposed, a jugular eagerly pressed to a blade. There’s something almost sacrificial about it, and it’s gratifying.

Cal can see every detail of her even in this dimness, from the waves of her hair meeting her broad shoulders to the long shadows of her lashes on her cheeks (and what he can’t see he can make from memory, like the faint freckles on the tip of her nose and the ever-present cracks on her lips).

Her chest rises and falls quietly, rhythmically. The sight is so peaceful that when she speaks it takes him a moment to register she’s awake.

“Edith?”

The corners of her lips curl a bit.

“I wanted to say it back,” she mutters again, and this time he catches it. Her eyes are open now, but she doesn’t look at him. Not yet.

“That day, after you…” she lets the sentence hang in the air, gesturing vaguely.

After he almost said it. Not that she needs to explain that, of course. It’s wonderfully, cruelly poetic how she brings it up now, in the very same room.

“I thought about saying it, but then I got– scared, I guess.”

She grimaces as she says it, teeth clenching around the ‘scared’ as if admitting it is physically painful. Cal swallows hard.

“Scared of what?” He whispers because somehow, somehow he knows anything louder would be a mistake.

“You.”

The single word is a knife to his lungs, it knocks the air out of him and has him bleed the unspoken. She smiles again, sickeningly sweet, all glossy eyes and heated cheeks.

“You scare me the most, y’know.”

He’s sorry. It hurts.

“I’m sorry, I–”

“I’m scared whenever I see you. ‘Cause I look at you and I’m just, ‘Shit, I’d do anything for you!’ And I’m pretty fucking sure I actually would, which is… Terrifying.” Her words come out in an almost sleepy chuckle, slurred and rushed and self-loathing. “Scares me whenever you leave, too, because then I’m always waiting for you to come back. ‘S a bit pathetic, really.”

She’s finally looking at him. Was her gaze always this warm?

“I know what it means, now. You looking at me like that.”

I’ve been looking at you like this the whole time.

Even when she didn’t look back.

Cal’s heartbeat is so loud he can barely think, barely breathe. But he asks anyway.

“What?”

He doesn’t understand what’s happening until her lips are ghosting over his (when did she lean in?) and he thinks he’s stopped breathing altogether. She tastes like sugar and coffee and a little bit like blood, and she kisses him as if she’s done so hundreds of times before.

Practised, familiar, with her thumb stroking his cheek and his hand clinging to her t-shirt. How she always cares for him out of habit, and how he chases her without even realising it– they kiss in that same way, like they’re saying both hello and goodbye.

Edith’s palms feel searing against his jaw, but she’s smiling, and Cal thinks he’d burn painlessly if they actually were.

“You love me.”

It’s not an accusation anymore.

I love you, does that scare you, too? I love you I love you I love you–

“I love you,” she says it before he can, and he looks so bewildered that she laughs. “That okay with you? You’ve gone real quiet on me.”

“You, ah… I–” He tries once, twice, and then a few times more till he can knit the three words together. “You love me?”

She hums, looking serene and maybe a bit drowsy.

“Quite so.”

#they're in Loveeee #caledith #edith blake #ocs #judie tag #cw alcohol #sorry i forgot to add the warning #mywritings

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fcble · 1 year

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FORM IS EMPTINESS (EMPTINESS IS FORM) — PART 2 OF 2

Emptiness does not differ from form, form does not differ from emptiness, whatever is emptiness, that is form, the same is true of feelings, perceptions, impulses, and consciousness.

SUMMARY: In which Eunsu leaves. FEATURING: Fable ensemble WORD COUNT: 9.1k WARNINGS / NOTES: Off screen minor character death. Religious themes and discussions. If you’ve ever read anything from Eunsu’s perspective before in a previous Fable iteration, no you haven’t <3. You can also CLICK HERE or in the source link to read the whole thing at once in a Google doc.

66 DAYS — MINGEUN

Fable’s comeback showcase is delayed because Eunsu went to the bathroom ten minutes ago and never came back. Mingeun paces around backstage, anxious to perform. It’s his first time standing on stage in almost a year. He’s missed it so deeply his chest aches, like a legitimate physical ailment.

It should be difficult for him to pace with his bulky overcoat, but he’s gotten used to it over the past few years. He also has to dance in it, so walking back and forth down a hallway really isn’t a big deal.

“Stop it. You’re causing me stress,” Intak says, eyes half-closed. He sits on the ground, probably trying to keep his food down. Why did the guy with stage fright become an kpop idol? And how does he still have stage fright almost three years after his debut? Mingeun will never know.

He wishes he could be wearing a watch. His wrist feels naked without it. And he wants to know when they’re supposed to go onstage. He knows they have people in charge of coordinating all of that, but Mingeun wants to know too.

Jaeseop stops Mingeun on one of his passes. “You should go find Eunsu,” he says in a low voice.

“Me?” Mingeun asks. “Byeonghwi is younger—”

“You’re the second youngest. Eunsu is your best friend,” Jaeseop says, cutting him off. “Go find him.”

“Fine. I’ll go.”

Mingeun tries the bathroom first. That’s where Eunsu said he was going. He pushes the door open, and yells, loudly and shamelessly, “Eunsu?”

There’s no response. Mingeun double checks that he’s in the men’s bathroom—yep, those are urinals. Where the fuck is Eunsu if he’s not using the fucking bathroom? He forces himself not to panic, taking deep breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth, like his therapist always says.

He continues down the labyrinth of backstage hallways, getting farther and farther away from the stage. Forget his watch, Mingeun wants his fucking phone.

Then he hears the barest hint of a voice. Mingeun couldn’t call himself Eunsu’s best friend if he couldn’t recognize him from a whisper. He carefully grabs at the folds of his outfit, and continues down the hall, feeling like fucking Cinderella.

Eunsu’s voice drifts out from a small doorway Mingeun would have missed otherwise. The door blends in with the rest of the white wall, and carries the slightest scent of bleach. A cleaning supply closet? What is Eunsu doing in there?

With absolutely zero tact, Mingeun pushes the door wide open. “Eunsu! We need to go.”

“Oh. I didn’t realize I was late,” Eunsu says, blocking Mingeun’s view of the small, dark room. He seems down and not like his usual self, although that’s the way he’s been for the past couple of weeks.

Mingeun tries to crane his neck past Eunsu, to see if there’s a second person in the room. “You”—he pokes Eunsu in the chest—“are incredibly oblivious sometimes. What are you doing here? Are you seeing someone? Or are you talking to yourself? Is something wrong?”

He can’t help the way his voice rises in pitch with each question. Eunsu brushes him off.

“It’s nothing,” he says, closing the door not quite all the way.

Nosy as he is, Mingeun tries again to peek inside the room.

“You came here to tell me we have to go,” Eunsu says. “We have to perform now.”

They do have to perform now, so Mingeun lets it go. “You’ll tell me about it later, right?”

“Of course,” Eunsu says, hesitating only slightly as they almost run back to the rest of their group.

They meet Byeonghwi in the hallway, only most of the way back.

“What took you so long?” he asks. “They sent me after both of you. It’s like a horror movie, where one person goes off on their own, and the next person sent after them also disappears.”

“You were going to be next,” Eunsu teases, like he wasn’t melancholy and morose five minutes ago when Mingeun found him.

An hour later, after their showcase finishes, Mingeun corners Eunsu in the dressing room. Literally. Eunsu sits on a stool in the corner of the room, wearing half of his stage outfit. He’s discarded his jeogori in favor of a plain t-shirt, but he still has his baji on, more interested in his phone than changing.

“So what were you doing earlier?” Mingeun asks.

“Do we have to talk about it now?” Eunsu asks without looking up.

“We can talk about this now, or we can talk about it in the van.” Mingeun knows Eunsu probably wouldn’t want everyone involved in the conversation. There are some things that stay between just the two of them. Or mostly between the two of them. Andrew and Byeonghwi are the only ones still here, and Mingeun figures they’re close enough that it’s fine if they overhear whatever Eunsu has to say.

Eunsu finally puts his phone down. “It’s something you wouldn’t understand.”

“Really?” That just makes him want to know more.

With a sigh, Eunsu asks, “Do you believe in reincarnation?”

“No,” Mingeun says. “It’s…” He searches for the right word. He’s pretty sure Eunsu doesn’t, but what if he does? It’s not like religion is a common conversation topic for the two of them, unless Haksu is also involved.

“Then we have nothing to talk about,” Eunsu says. “Can you leave so I can change now?”

“I don’t see what reincarnation has to do with you delaying our comeback showcase by fifteen minutes.”

“I’ll put it a different way. You know how Haksu-hyung talks about God and his dreams all the time?”

“Idol Joan of Arc,” Mingeun says. He recalls Eunsu saying that once.

“Yeah. Religious experiences that leave a mark on you. Maybe fundamentally change who you are.”

Mingeun doesn’t like where this is going. “You had a religious experience backstage at the comeback showcase of our sixth mini album?”

“Yes. Sort of.”

“I thought you weren’t religious.”

Eunsu has the decency to look embarrassed. “I thought so. I think I was in denial. I was trying so hard to get out of my hometown and away from my parents that I thought the only way was to be someone completely different. But I didn’t have to run away like that. I think Haksu-hyung helped too. He’s just so… himself.”

Mingeun still has no idea what any of that has to do with their comeback showcase or reincarnation. He’s glad, though, that Eunsu is learning more about himself.

Eunsu must see the look of confusion on Mingeun’s face, because he says, “It’s a lot to explain.”

“It’s a lot to hear,” Mingeun says.

“Byeonghwi!” Eunsu calls. “What do you think of moths? Religiously?”

Mingeun turns around to see the youngest member pause two steps from the door.

“Ancestors,” Byeonghwi says with a thumbs up. Then he leaves.

“That doesn’t help,” Mingeun says.

Eunsu sighs. “It’s like this. A family member, someone you know, someone you were very close to, dies. Death isn’t the end, because of samsara.”

Mingeun opens his mouth to ask what that is.

Very clearly anticipating the question, Eunsu says, “The endless cycle of birth, life, and death, until we reach nirvana.”

“So you think your brother came back as a moth.”

“Not exactly. There are six realms—” He cuts himself off. “I can’t explain everything. But I left home less than forty-nine days after Yonggeum-hyung—” He stops again. “His spirit could have followed me. You probably think this all sounds stupid.”

There are tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, and for the first time, Mingeun thinks he pushed too far. The first thing he thinks of is how crying would ruin Eunsu’s makeup. He hates himself for it. He doesn’t even have the emotional capacity to comfort his friend, and their performance is over.

“I don’t,” Mingeun says. They’re the only two left now. Andrew must have slipped out at some point. “We don’t have to talk about it anymore, if you don’t want to.”

It shouldn’t have been him having this conversation with Eunsu. It should have been someone who would understand him more. But then again, is there anyone closer to Eunsu than Mingeun?

“Do you mind if I change now?” Eunsu asks, somewhat shakily.

“No, not at all,” Mingeun says. “Sorry I asked so much of you. I’ll wait outside.”

He trips over his feet in his haste to leave the room.

Standing outside the dressing room, Mingeun reflects on everything Eunsu told him. The moth. Reincarnation. Spirits. Yonggeum’s spirit followed Eunsu to Seoul and appeared to him as a moth backstage at the comeback showcase for Fable’s sixth mini album. Okay. Mingeun can wrap his head around that. It isn’t any more farfetched than the Eucharist.

Eunsu emerges not long after, wearing his own pants this time. He looks composed, like his normal self again.

“I’m sorry,” Mingeun says again, fulfilling a Canadian stereotype.

“Don’t you think it’s nice, sometimes, to talk about yourself?” Eunsu asks, completely ignoring Mingeun’s apology.

“I guess so,” he says begrudgingly. He wanted to say yes with confidence, but his only reasoning would have been that he enjoys talking about himself on camera. With Mingeun, everything goes back to being an idol.

“I’m not upset,” Eunsu says calmly. “We don’t need to talk about this again if you don’t want to.”

“Yeah,” Mingeun agrees, because he sucks ass at having any emotions other than anger and despair.

They step out into the not-quite-summer night. Jaeseop rolls down the passenger window of the van. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” Mingeun answers, because at the time, that’s what he believes.

59 DAYS — JAESEOP

“It’s not too late, if you want to take a break,” Jaeseop says. Their latest album released a week ago, and he can tell Eunsu isn’t into it the way he usually is.

“No, I can do this,” Eunsu says.

The pile of discarded tissues and the way he barely leaves his bed unless he has to say otherwise. Even now, Eunsu is buried under his blankets in the summer weather. It’s hard to tell it’s warm and bright outside with the curtains closed.

“I think you should take a break,” Jaeseop repeats. He sits on top the covers at the foot of Eunsu’s bed.

“I told you, hyung, I don’t need to. I can do this.”

It sounds like he’s trying to convince himself more than he’s trying to convince Jaeseop. Jaeseop is skeptical about all of this.

“Don’t push yourself too hard,” he says.

“I’m not,” Eunsu says. “This is my job.”

“No one expects you to do your job if you’re grieving.”

“I’m—we’re different.”

Jaeseop is not. He would take a break. There’s nothing embarrassing about wanting to step back for a bit, especially considering what Eunsu is going through.

“Idols are human too,” he says, as gently as he can. “At the end of the day, it’s just a job.”

“Am I just your coworker?” Eunsu asks. “What other job would have you at my bedside like this?”

“Nurse. Doctor,” Jaeseop says, even though he knows those aren’t remotely similar comparisons.

Eunsu shakes his head. He’s been different since he got back from his short trip home. Solemn, somber, older than his twenty-something years. He was always unflinchingly serious, but the air that surrounds him now has changed. Jaeseop knows exactly why. He doesn’t know if Eunsu recognizes himself in the same way.

“You don’t have to treat me like a kid,” Eunsu says. “I can take care of myself.”

Jaeseop raises an eyebrow, leaning back against the wall, flush against Eunsu’s bed. “I’m not treating you like a kid. I want you to consider all of your options. I know you don’t think you have any other choice but to keep going, but you do. There’s no shame in slowing down or pausing.”

“And I’m telling you, hyung, I don’t need to do any of that. I’m fine.”

Eunsu is obviously not fine. Jaeseop has never seen him so insistent on anything.

“What’s the name of our new album?” he asks.

Eunsu is silent. The names are often confusing and Jaeseop has started saying the wrong ones from time to time. Yet they’ve been living and breathing the party theme for over a month. Eunsu stands out in his misery. Jaeseop doesn’t want to think only of the group and the group’s image and the group’s public perception, but he has to at least consider it.

If Eunsu’s heart isn’t in to it, and he can’t fake it, then maybe it’s better if he’s not there. Taein could force Eunsu onto a hiatus. Jaeseop doesn’t want to involve his uncle in this. He can solve their problems himself.

“What are you trying to prove?” Eunsu asks.

“You want to promote something you don’t know the name of,” Jaeseop says. “You should be able to see how that sounds.”

“Byeonghwi probably doesn’t know the name of our new album.”

“Byeonghwi never knows the names of our albums. Don’t use him as your example.”

Eunsu sits up, incensed. “So Byeonghwi can never know an album name and promote just fine, but when I forget one of them, I need to take a break?”

Jaeseop says, very bluntly, “Your brother’s death makes this a completely different situation.”

He doesn’t expect Eunsu to hang his head and say, softly and sullenly, “I know. I thought I could come back and pretend nothing is wrong. To everyone else, there’s nothing wrong. Everyone around me—you too, hyung—keeps living their lives, and I’m the only one whose world is upside-down.”

He looks like he’s going to keep talking, until his phone rings. He picks it up on the second ring. “Hi Mom.”

Eunsu sounds almost chipper. “I ate earlier.”

Jaeseop knows that’s a lie. He figures Eunsu would want to talk to his parents in private. The bed creaks as he stands up.

Eunsu stares at him questioningly, and gestures for him to sit.

Jaeseop sits back down on the edge of his bed.

“Mm-hmm, I’m doing well. Don’t worry too much about me,” Eunsu says. He pauses briefly. “Yes, I’m eating and sleeping.”

The bags under his eyes become more prominent every day. He offers a few more words of reassurance, then hangs up the phone. The call is short, not more than a few minutes.

“She calls me every day now,” Eunsu says. “Sometimes multiple times a day. If I don’t answer almost immediately, it scares her. It scares me too, to see how she’s become. Sometimes think I made a mistake coming back.”

“I’m sorry,” Jaeseop offers, even though he knows it’s not nearly enough.

Eunsu waves him off. “Before, I liked being here. I liked being an idol. That’s why I thought I could come back and keep doing this like nothing changed.”

Jaeseop doesn’t like the past tense. He shifts in his seated position. “It’s your decision,” he says. Either way, whatever Eunsu decides is best, Jaeseop wants to support him. It’s his choice to make.

“I know,” Eunsu says, sounding miserable. “I was hoping you’d convince me, one way or another. You weren’t very convincing.”

“I don’t want to pressure you. I think you’d benefit from a longer break, but that might not be what you think is best for you.”

In this very specific situation, Jaeseop thinks he’s right. But to pressure Eunsu so much until he has no choice but to accept? That makes him just like Taein.

“I don’t know what’s best for me anymore,” Eunsu says, “but I want to promote this album. I’ll learn the title.”

Jaeseop supposes that’s enough for now. “Okay,” he agrees. “Remember you can always change your mind.”

53 DAYS — BYEONGHWI

In the bathroom mirror, Byeonghwi can only see the very top of Eunsu's head as he sits on the ground.

“Red?” Eunsu asks.

Byeonghwi nods, garbage bag crinkling over his shoulders.

“It's very bright.” It sounds like Eunsu doesn't approve of his choice.

“That's the point.” Byeonghwi doesn't have to be good at home-dying his hair; he just has to do a good enough job for the stylists to pick up where he left off. Taein will hate it, Daewoong will hate it, but Byeonghwi is beginning to care less of what they think.

It should be the opposite, really, because now Byeonghwi is somewhat famous. People see him and recognize him. He hasn’t decided if that’s a good thing or a bad thing yet.

He leans forward, closer to the mirror, to make sure he hasn’t missed any spots. The hardest part about doing this on his own and also having dark hair is how long it takes. When he’s satisfied, he pushes aside the boxes of dye, two toothbrushes, his and Haksu’s skincare collections, and sits on the counter.

“When you decided to become an idol, is this what you thought it would be like?” Eunsu asks.

“No,” Byeonghwi answers, quickly and honestly.

Eunsu seems satisfied. Byeonghwi is pretty sure most of them think like this. It manifests in different ways for everyone: he box-dyes his hair, Andrew is obsessed with writing a perfect album, Haksu pushes them all down for a chance to boost himself up, Mingeun is restless and always wants the next big thing. He hadn’t thought of Eunsu like that. Eunsu strikes him as someone who’s satisfied with his lot in life.

“I don’t think I gave it much thought,” he continues. “I thought an idol was just someone on TV, someone who could sing and dance. I could sing, so why couldn’t I be an idol?”

Eunsu nods, maybe in agreement, maybe in acceptance. “This isn’t what I thought it would be either. I thought being an idol was something I could do forever. That once I started, I’d be able to keep following this path, and everything would be laid out for me.”

“You’re only realizing this now?” Byeonghwi asks light-heartedly, in a very desperate attempt to lighten the conversation.

“I have a different perspective now. I wasn’t able to see any of this before.”

Byeonghwi so badly wants to say that maybe all Eunsu needs is to take a break, that maybe he’s burnt-out. Mingeun says that a lot. Maybe Eunsu is the same. He keeps quiet and lets Eunsu talk.

“It’s really changed how I think of my place in the group.”

Byeonghwi has a cold, sinking feeling in his stomach that has nothing to do with the cold, sinking feeling on his scalp.

“I think,” Eunsu says softly, almost to the point where Byeonghwi has to strain his ears to hear him. “I’m going to ask Taein-nim to terminate my contract.”

“You can’t.” The reply is reflexive.

“Why?”

Byeonghwi doesn’t have a good answer for that. “Fable wouldn’t be the same without you,” he says lamely. “It wouldn’t be the same without any one of us.”

“You’d recover,” Eunsu says dismissively. “I’m only thinking about it.”

“Stop thinking about it. Think about us instead.”

“I want to do what’s best for everyone. Myself, Fable, and my parents.”

Bringing his parents into the conversation is a low blow. Byeonghwi has spent the past three years being the exemplary son in Fable. Now he has no choice but to hear Eunsu out.

“Okay,” he says, idly swinging his legs. “What do your parents have to do with this?”

“They’re getting older,” Eunsu says. “I know my dad will keep his position for as long as he can, but what happens after that? The temple is his livelihood, and my grandfather’s livelihood, and my great-grandfather’s, and my great-great-grandfather’s, and back so far I can’t even count. I can’t be the one to give that up for some stupid idol career.”

Byeonghwi doesn’t think an idol career is stupid.

“Did your dad tell you this?” he asks.

“No, but—”

“It’s conjecture! You can’t leave the group because of conjecture!”

“It’s not the kind of thing my parents would tell me,” Eunsu says, sounding miserable. “They tell me that I can do whatever I want, and for so long, I’ve been doing whatever I want. Shouldn’t I start thinking about someone other than myself?”

Byeonghwi realizes what the problem is. Eunsu spends too much time with Mingeun. Mingeun has all these ideas of individualism and acts on the whims of his own desires and has probably never heard of Confucianism or filial piety in his entire life. It’s very clearly affected Eunsu.

“You should,” Byeonghwi says. It’s only after he speaks that he realizes his words are an admission of agreement. He doesn’t want to Eunsu to leave, but he also couldn’t imagine turning his back on his parents and a family tradition.

“I thought you’d agree,” Eunsu says. “Now you have to help me break the news to everyone else.”

Byeonghwi is blindsided and betrayed. “Did you plan this out?”

Eunsu nods. “A little. You know no one else would agree so easily. I couldn’t pull the parent line on anyone but you. I’ve been thinking about it a lot. Talking about it makes it feel a bit more real.”

He talks around the topic, never saying it’s his departure.

Byeonghwi swallows around the lump in his throat. He doesn’t want Eunsu to leave, of course. But to be stuck between your family and your personal ambitions? It’s a hard, terrible choice that he hopes he never has to make.

“I’ll miss you, hyung,” he says. “I’d give you a hug, but…” He holds up his gloved hands, tinged red.

“I haven’t left yet,” Eunsu says. “We’ll make the most of it. I promise.”

16 DAYS — ANDREW

Andrew has been writing an album for slightly over a year. He goes through phases: sometimes he's the best songwriter to ever exist, and it's a tragedy that no one's ever heard his songs. Other times everything he writes is the most cliché piece of shit to ever exist on Earth.

He doesn't have anyone to talk through it with. Intak moves so much faster, while Andrew obsesses over melodies and countermelodies and if his art is good enough. His friends are classical music enthusiasts who think it's slightly ridiculous that he's a kpop idol and indie enthusiasts who will listen to anyone, so long as they have less than a thousand Spotify monthly listeners. Fable isn’t included in that.

So Andrew works on the bits that he can, when he can. At the very least, he knows he wants to incorporate real instruments wherever he can. It always sounds better than samples or synthetic instruments.

The only parts he can do on his own are the piano parts, because that's the only instrument Andrew can play with confidence. Even then, using his keyboard isn't the same as a grand piano. Disgruntled, he deletes the recordings off his computer.

Then he recruits Eunsu. It's the bass, after all, that makes music sound better. Eunsu's short-lived cover band bassist career has always been a point of interest to Andrew. How did he have the resources, in his small town in the middle of nowhere? Growing up in a place like that is something Andrew knows all too well.

“I'm out of practice,” Eunsu says when he arrives, carrying his guitar case across his back.

Andrew dismisses his concern. “It's fine. I don't think the parts are too complicated. You’ve looked it over, right?”

It’s a bass line. How hard can it be? Andrew also sent him the music a few days ago. Surely he’s been able to practice at least a little bit, so that he’s not sight-reading when he should be recording.

Andrew busies himself with finding the sheet music of the correct parts for the correct songs. He gives up his seat to Eunsu to walk him through the process.

“The microphone is here. You can adjust the height or the position to whatever’s comfortable for you, as long as it’s within a few inches of your strings.” He pushes it around to demonstrate.

“Press the red button to record, and then again to stop. You can play back everything at once, or mute the other tracks. The recording will start at wherever the marker is. This is a draft. It doesn’t have to be perfect now.”

“This is overwhelming,” Eunsu interrupts.

“You’ll figure it out once you start,” Andrew assures him. “I’ll be here if you need any help.”

Showing anyone else his music is always a tense situation. He knows he can’t appease everyone, and even when it’s people he’s close too, it’s still stressful. What if they dislike it, and it changes their opinion of Andrew as a person? He wouldn’t be able to stand it.

But Eunsu doesn’t do any of that. He plugs his own earbuds into Andrew’s laptop, and listens. Andrew tries not to hover directly behind him and breathe down on his neck. Eunsu starts to play, a few hesitant notes echoing in the room.

It’s impossible to tell if he’s good or not. At the very least, he sounds like he’s in tune. Andrew doesn’t know what part of the song he’s listening to, if he’s warming up or experimenting. He should know what his own song sounds like, he thinks, slightly disgruntled.

Andrew expects Eunsu to ask for clarification, or something similar. Eunsu surprises him by rewinding to the beginning, and playing in earnest, foot tapping and head bobbing. Andrew pumps his fist in silent victory.

The instrument's low tones sound so much better than he had expected. He can see the rest of it coming together in his head: he'll make the piano part work somehow, maybe get a drum recording from Hwajung. Andrew entertains himself with fantasies of finally finishing some songs, then an album, polishing them to perfection, winning music shows and topping charts.

Eunsu's play style is by the book. He plays the music exactly as Andrew wrote it—down to each note's dynamic and articulation. It's devoid of any improvisations or new licks or riffs.

“Where did you learn how to play?” Andrew asks when Eunsu pauses the recording.

“I taught myself,” Eunsu says, spinning around in his seat. “My friends wanted to try and start a band. I had to be part of it, so I begged my parents to buy me an instrument until they gave in. The band never took off. We stopped after a few months. I'm the only one who still does music.”

He says it lightheartedly, like it's a story he's told over and over before. It reminds Andrew of himself, at probably that same age, making noise in GarageBand.

Eunsu changes the topic back to the matter at hand. “Let me try this one again, and then you can listen to it.”

He doesn’t wait for Andrew’s response, but goes back to the beginning of the song. He likes it, Andrew realizes, a bit belatedly and a bit hesitantly. It almost seems too good to be true.

The pride and recognition he feels buoys him throughout Eunsu’s recording. He isn’t listening too closely, content to let Eunsu play his music. Eunsu is a musician too; he can be trusted.

When the next take finishes, Eunsu hits the trackpad with maybe more force than necessary.

“Are you satisfied with that?” Andrew asks.

Eunsu hesitates for the barest second before he nods. “It was better than my first one by far.”

That doesn’t sound very promising, but Andrew refrains from passing judgment. He leans over Eunsu’s shoulder to stare down at the computer screen. From a quick glance, he can tell he’s going to need to adjust the track volume. Eunsu fidgets in the chair while Andrew reaches for the mouse.

“Don’t be nervous,” he says. “I’m sure you sounded fine.”

“Weren’t you listening?”

“With the rest of the music,” Andrew clarifies, bringing up the volume on Eunsu’s recording.

He switches the sound output to his speaker system, and presses play. Then he skips over the intro, eager to get to the parts Eunsu added.

It sounds fuller, more complete, with the bass line. Andrew was right. Of course he was right. The bass makes the songs sound better. There are a few places where Eunsu lags behind or pushes ahead of the beat. Andrew makes a mental note as he listens.

“It's not bad,” he says at last.

Eunsu taps his fingers against the body of his guitar. “If it was good, you would have said it was good,” he says sullenly.

“It was your second take.”

He leans forward to point out a few parts of the recording. “Try these parts again. You start to fall behind here.”

Andrew drags the cursor over the specific bars to specify what he means. Then he steps back to give Eunsu another chance.

It always amazes him how quickly Eunsu adapts to feedback. He’s seen it happen in the studio before: the producer or Intak will give him instructions, Eunsu will practice a few more times, and then he’ll perform flawlessly.

Today, it seems like something is off. Eunsu plays slightly better, but it doesn’t match up to the vision in Andrew’s head.

“Again,” he says.

“Did I miss something?”

Andrew ignores his question. He’s missing something, but it’s hard to describe. It’s more of a feeling—the song is fast and bright, and Eunsu’s playing doesn’t have the same energy.

“Same part,” he says instead. “Stay on beat.”

Eunsu plays it again. And again. And again.

Andrew rejects every take.

“Maybe you should learn how to play the bass,” Eunsu jokes half-heartedly. He shakes his left hand out, and Andrew sees the string imprints across the reddening pads of his fingers.

This is only the first song, and it’s going much worse than Andrew could have ever expected. He makes an executive decision.

“Let’s stop for now. You can practice a bit more, and then we’ll try again in a few days.”

For a moment, Eunsu looks like he wants to protest. Andrew is not in the mood to entertain him. But all Eunsu says is, “Okay, hyung. Let me know when you want me to come back.”

He appears eager to leave as he starts to pack up. Andrew is left contemplating. It seems the only way he’ll get anything done is if he does it himself.

14 DAYS — KIYOUNG

Eunsu’s departure is turning into an event. Which it is, of course, but he sends Kiyoung a meeting invitation titled, “Eunsu’s Departure Letter Writing Session.” Kiyoung adds it to his calendar.

When the time and day both arrive, Kiyoung meets Eunsu in the company meeting room. Eunsu sits at the head of the table, surrounded by an array of pens and paper. To his surprise, Andrew is sitting on Eunsu’s right—scowling, arms crossed, foot impatiently tapping out a beat. He’s never seen Andrew this mad before.

Kiyoung takes a seat on the other side of Eunsu, wondering what could have pissed Andrew off so badly.

“You didn’t need to invite both of us,” he says.

“I didn’t,” Eunsu says, arranging his pens. “I only dragged Andrew-hyung out of his studio a few minutes ago because he was there.”

“Do you know what he’s doing?” Andrew asks.

“I’ve had this in my calendar for a week,” Kiyoung answers.

“He told me”—Andrew checks his phone—“seven minutes ago.”

“Can you help me write my letter?” Eunsu interrupts.

Kiyoung doesn’t know the first thing about writing a departure letter. He’s written resignation letters—one resignation letter, to be exact—before, but that’s a completely different situation. It must show on his face, and Andrew’s as well, because Eunsu follows it up with, “You’re the only two people who have had jobs outside of being idols. Please?”

Andrew sighs. “Fine. Mingeun probably has a template for this kind of thing memorized.”

“Mingeun doesn’t know I’m leaving,” Eunsu says. “I haven’t told him yet either. He’s going to take it really badly.”

“He’s going to take it worse than me,” Andrew mutters.

“When are you going to tell him?” Kiyoung asks. It comes as a surprise—he thought Mingeun would know first.

“He’ll figure it out eventually. Or when I post this letter. Please don’t tell him.” Eunsu waves a piece of paper through the air. “How should I start?”

“‘Dear Fabulists’ or something like that,” Kiyoung attempts.

Eunsu puts his pen to the paper. An ink blot begins to spread from the tip. He holds it there without writing anything for a moment. Eventually, he puts the pen down. “I can’t do this.”

He buries his head in his hands. “It’s embarrassing. I know I’m going to hate everything I write. It doesn’t seem genuine.”

“If it’s how you feel, that should be enough,” Kiyoung says. This is most decidedly not the same thing as a resignation letter. He could lie out of his ass for one of those. Eunsu should not lie about this.

“That doesn’t have to be the only thing you say,” Andrew says, seemingly on board now. He scrolls through his phone. “You can write about how much you enjoyed being in the group, or how you’re thankful to your fans, or something like that.”

Kiyoung stares at him across the table. “Are you reading other letters?”

“Yes.” Andrew doesn’t even sound embarrassed. “Neither of us know the first thing about what should be in one of these letters.”

“Did you talk to Taein-nim yet?” Kiyoung asks.

Eunsu seems to shrink in his seat. “Not yet. I thought I could do this first. To show him I’m sure.”

To Kiyoung, being able to leave would come before writing the letter. But it’s Eunsu’s departure, and he gets to choose the sequence.

“Dear Fabulists,” Eunsu says as he starts to write. “This is Eunsu. Today I’m sharing with you my decision to depart from Fable and the company.”

Kiyoung interrupts. “You should add something before that to soften the blow. Like a ‘I hope everyone is doing well’ or ‘It’s been a while since I spoke to you.’”

Eunsu scratches the words “first draft” across the top of the page and adds another introductory sentence between his name and his departure announcement.

“Thank you to everyone who loved and supported me as a member of Fable. Because of you, I was able to create fond memories with my members that I’ll remember forever.”

“You’re not going to finish recording all the parts for my songs,” Andrew says suddenly, as if it just occurred to him.

Eunsu looks up from his writing. “I’m leaving the group. I don’t think it’s necessary for me to be part of an album I won’t even be here for. You don’t know how long it’s going to take you to finish it, or if Taein-nim will allow to release it.”

“I want you to be on the record,” Andrew insists. “You’re an important part of the group.”

“You thought I sounded like shit a few days ago,” Eunsu says.

Andrew shrugs, not denying it. “You said you’d practice and try again. You also didn’t tell me you were leaving.”

He seems hung up on that fact.

Kiyoung intercedes. “There’s still time,” he says, when he knows that’s the very thing Eunsu is running out of. The days will slip by, like sand through his fingers, and then Eunsu will be gone.

“I need to finish my letter first,” Eunsu says. “After that”—a shrug—“I’ll figure it out. One task at a time.”

Now that he’s started, it seems like it’s easier for him to write. The page begins to overflow with words, Eunsu’s neat handwriting stark against the white page. He edits his own writing as he goes, crossing out and replacing words, pausing only to think briefly before moving on.

Kiyoung tilts his head to read it. There are a lot of sentences about their fans, and how much Eunsu appreciates their love and support. Coming from him, it makes sense. Eunsu is an idol through and through. Kiyoung can’t imagine him doing anything else.

Eventually, Eunsu puts his pen down and stretches. “I think I’m done.”

Andrew takes the paper first, skimming over Eunsu’s words. “Do you mean all of this? Genuinely?”

“Most of it,” Eunsu says.

“Even this one?” Andrew taps one line. “‘Although I will no be recognized as a member of Fable, I will treasure these precious moments I spent with Fabulists forever.’”

Eunsu winces. “A little less on that one.”

“Then don’t write it.”

“Don’t you think the fans would want to hear it? It’s reassuring.”

There are still times when Andrew is immensely culture-shocked. Kiyoung figures this is one of them.

“It’s not a big deal,” he says. He reaches across the table and takes the letter.

It’s more or less what he thought would be in it. The line Andrew singled out isn’t even the worst one.

“The ‘I will support Fable just as Fabulists do’ is a nice touch,’” Kiyoung says.

Eunsu flushes. “Thanks. I really like that one. Do you think it’s too much?”

For Kiyoung’s tastes, it certainly is. But it’s not by him or for him. So he says, “The fans will like it.”

They won’t like his departure, but the point of the letter is closure and acceptance.

Eunsu turns expectantly to Andrew, who says, “If Kiyoung thinks the fans will like it, then it’s good to me.”

With that recommendation, Eunsu looks pleased. He takes a clean sheet of paper from his pile and starts to write a cleaner version.

“Thanks for helping me with this,” he says as he starts to write.

Kiyoung doesn’t feel like he did anything of note. He accepts the thanks anyway. “We’ll miss you.”

He thinks he speaks for all of them when he says that. There’s a lump in his throat. Kiyoung has no idea where that came from.

“I will too,” Eunsu says, pausing in his writing. “I’ll visit all the time. Don’t worry too much about me.”

He says it lightly and cheerfully. Kiyoung knows he won’t be able to do that.

6 DAYS — JAESEOP

“Get out.”

When Jaeseop asked to be treated like any employee and not like the CEO’s nephew he is, he forgot to consider all the times that it would come in handy. Like when one of your group mates wants to leave the group and you have no idea how your own family member will react.

“I’ll be alright if you go,” Eunsu murmurs softly.

Jaeseop shakes his head. “I have to be sure my uncle doesn’t try to do anything sketchy.”

Eunsu gives him a look that seems to ask something like, You don’t trust your own uncle? Jaeseop trusts him in family settings, not in business ones. He has yet to move on from when he first agreed to work with his uncle, and he was asked to break up with Seoyeon. Nevermind that they had been dating for two years at that point, and Jaeseop never asked to be an idol.

“Can you get another chair, Eunsu?” Jaeseop asks.

Eunsu looks hesitant, like he doesn’t want to leave.

“If I leave, Samchon will lock me out,” Jaeseop says pleasantly. He glances at his uncle, who doesn’t deny it.

Eunsu’s mouth forms an O. “I’ll be right back.”

For the time being, Jaeseop sits on Taein’s desk. “I hope you’re not too hung up on our image to listen to Eunsu.”

“A lot goes into running a successful business,” Taein says.

“Is that something you’d know?” Jaeseop asks with faux innocence. He could run this company better, but it’s not like his uncle would ever take his advice.

He doesn’t think it’s very sightly for CEOs to entertain the thought of murdering their employees, but that’s the look on Taein’s face.

“You always wanted seven members in the group. Have you changed your mind now?”

Jaeseop can practically see Taein seething. But what’s he going to do? Fire him?

“I made sacrifices for the eight of you. I’m the one who made it so that you could all debut.”

“You didn’t want to do it. You tried to make Mingeun lie for his career.”

“Mingeun has nothing to do with this. It worked,” Taein says.

There’s a bang on the door as Eunsu lugs a second chair in. Jaeseop jumps down from his seat and holds the door for him.

“Thanks,” Jaeseop whispers, taking a seat.

Taein steeples his fingers in front of him. “What did you want to discuss with me today?”

“I want to end my contract,” Eunsu says. If Jaeseop looks carefully, he can see the way Eunsu trembles ever so slightly, hands shaking in his lap. “I no longer think it’s right for me to be an idol, and I wish to leave on good terms.”

“You sound very sure,” Taein says. “But are you sure?”

What does that mean? “Samchon, I don’t think this is a decision Eunsu would make lightly,” Jaeseop says.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion, Jaeseop,” his uncle snaps. He turns back to Eunsu, calm again. “This is a very serious decision.”

“I’ve thought about it for a long time,” Eunsu says.

“Yet you stayed,” Taein says.

“I felt like I had an obligation to the group. I wanted to see all eight of us through the promotional period.”

“And you have an obligation to the end of your contract. Another four years.” Taein taps the pads of his fingers against his desk in an unnecessarily distracting motion.

Jaeseop doesn’t like this. Eunsu stayed because of the group, not because of his contract or Taein.

“You should explain,” he says, nudging Eunsu’s knee with his own.

“Is that necessary?” Eunsu asks, biting his lip.

“Don’t egg him on,” Taein says.

Jaeseop fucking hates talking to his uncle. “I’m not egging him on. You’re pressuring him and stressing him out.”

Eunsu takes a steadying breath, and says, “I know I have an obligation to you, and to everyone else in Fable. At the same time, I also have an obligation to my parents. Especially because”—he takes another deep breath—“because I’m their only son now. I can’t be here, in Seoul, so far away from them when they’re growing older and they need someone to learn about the family business before it’s too late.”

“It’s very tragic,” Taein says, looking as if he couldn’t care less. “That was something you should have taken into consideration before you left.”

“I was seventeen. I didn’t know any better.”

Jaeseop also thinks it’s ridiculous that death by drunk driver at the age of twenty-eight is something people should prepare for.

“I’m prepared for this,” Eunsu says, fishing out a folded piece of paper from his pocket. He’s hitting every talking point they went over in the past week. “I wrote a letter explaining my situation to the fans.”

He hands it over to Taein, who unfolds it and skims it quickly. Then he starts methodically tearing it into small pieces.

“You won’t need this,” Taein says, “because you won’t be leaving.”

Both Jaeseop and Eunsu stare at the paper scraps as Taein pushes them neatly into a pile. In every single one of Jaeseop’s daydreams, Eunsu would tell his story, maybe with some extra tears and groveling, and Taein would agree to let him leave.

“Why?” Jaeseop asks, standing up so that he can look down on his uncle. The sounds of his hands hitting the desk echoes in the small room. His palms sting, but he ignores it. “Why are you doing this?”

He can feel Eunsu tug at the hem of his shirt. “You don't have to do this for me. I'll be alright if I stay,” Eunsu says.

His voice sounds so small that Jaeseop's sense of justice rears its head. He fought for Mingeun and Kiyoung and won. He can do this for Eunsu. In the back of his mind, he thinks he should have made a PowerPoint presentation. Taein loves PowerPoint presentations.

“You won't,” Jaeseop says. He doesn't mean it in a mean way, but it's obvious, the way Eunsu is barely holding himself together.

He leans across the desk. “Samchon, are you oblivious or ignorant? You don't see how this is affecting him?”

Of course he doesn’t. That’s supposed to be Jaeseop’s job—leader and parent and therapist all at once.

Jaeseop has never done this with the person in the room before. He's sure Eunsu will forgive him for whatever he says, even if he talks about Eunsu like he isn't there.

“Letting Eunsu leave would set a dangerous precedent. Anyone else dissatisfied with their career would think they can do the same,” Taein says, looking unbothered by Jaeseop's words.

It’s obvious that he’s bluffing. As far as Jaeseop knows, no one else in Fable is dissatisfied enough with the group's direction to leave. A bit upset, sure. But to leave? That’s a completely different issue.

“I’m not dissatisfied,” Eunsu says. “I like being an idol. I like being part of Fable. It’s because of these extenuating circumstances that I’m asking to leave.”

“The reasoning isn’t important,” Taein says. “A departure is still a departure.”

“No one else wants to leave,” Jaeseop says.

Taein gives him a sidelong glance. “Not everything is about you.”

Behind him, Jaeseop hears Eunsu take another deep breath. “I can explain everything.” He pulls at Jaeseop’s shirt again. Jaeseop sits down reluctantly.

“You know who my parents are, and what they do.”

For a moment, Jaeseop doesn’t know who he’s talking to. Eunsu is almost secretive of his past. It’s like he sprang into being in Seoul when he was in high school. Jaeseop knows only the barest bones of his childhood. He sees Taein nod along, and he sits back and listens.

Eunsu weaves a tale of his older brother, inheritance, and the role he was expected to play. His voice catches every time he says Yonggeum’s name. Jaeseop has heard very little of this before, and it was all in the past few months. He wonders how long Eunsu has kept it all in. All his life?

“I think you can recognize, sajang-nim, how I never expected to be in this position.” He seems more composed now, words coming out smooth and even. “If the circumstances were any different, I wouldn’t be asking you for this.”

He stands up from his seat and bow formally, bent ninety degrees at the waist, arms pressed to his sides.

Jaeseop feels sick. Eunsu shouldn’t have to do any of this—bowing and scraping and pleading—to convince Taein of something so simple.

Taein spends a long moment taking in Eunsu’s words. Jaeseop is on the edge of his seat.

“I’ll think about it,” Taein says.

Jaeseop is almost optimistic as they leave.

“That wasn’t a yes,” Eunsu says. “I think I gave more than I got.”

“Coming from him, thinking about it is as close to a yes as you can get. Do you know any lawyers?” Jaeseop asks.

“Do you think I’ll need a lawyer?”

A shrug. “It might be nice.”

Eunsu ends up not needing a lawyer. He does need to rewrite his departure note, bemoaning about how hard it was the first time, and how he’s already forgotten what he’s written. It’s bittersweet for Jaeseop, to see him in relatively high spirits for the first time in months. He wishes it didn’t have to end so soon.

0 DAYS — MINGEUN

On August 2, 2021, a picture of a handwritten letter signed by Eunsu is posted to the official Fable Instagram. Mingeun sees the number of likes and comments jump by tens and hundreds. How is he learning about this at the same time everyone else is?

He bursts into Eunsu’s room, not even bothering to knock. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re leaving?”

Eunsu is sitting on the floor of his room, surrounded by his belongings, two suitcases, and some cardboard boxes. And for some reason Mingeun can’t even begin to think of, Byeonghwi appears to be helping him pack.

“You knew?” he asks, giving Byeonghwi in the most deadly glare he can manage.

The youngest member blanches in the face of Mingeun’s wrath.

“I told him,” Eunsu says, always the picture of calm and serenity.

“You told him and not me?” Mingeun asks, voice rising as he points accusingly towards Byeonghwi. “I found out through fucking Instagram?”

He storms across the room and grips Eunsu by the shirt collar. “Why?”

“You read the letter,” Eunsu says. He tries to extricate himself from Mingeun’s hold.

“You can’t tell me the same things you tell the fans. Does our friendship mean that little to you?” He drops Eunsu and looks wildly around the room, taking in the progress of his move out.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Byeonghwi slip out the door. He ignores him. Eunsu has stacked boxes and boxes and things, all over his bed and his desk and his shelves. Mingeun pushes them to the ground, one at a time, just because he can. Each one tumbles with a crash. It does nothing to assuage how Mingeun feels.

“Hey, whoa, Mingeun,” Eunsu says, like Mingeun is a fucking horse. Eunsu grabs his wrists, pinning them together.

Mingeun twists out of his grip. Between the two of them, he’s always been the stronger one. It’s a pity he isn’t strong enough to keep Eunsu from leaving.

“I know you’re upset,” Eunsu says, somehow still calm.

Upset is an understatement. If Eunsu leaves, it’s like half of him is carved away. Mingeun wants to wreck and tear and destroy, as if that will fix the soon-to-be-missing part of him.

“You think I’m upset?” Mingeun says incredulously. If he wasn’t so, well, upset, he would laugh. It’s ridiculous.

Eunsu shrugs. “Maybe a little more than upset.”

Mingeun takes a step forward and socks him across the jaw.

“Ow,” Eunsu says, massaging his afflicted face.

“You deserve worse than that,” Mingeun informs him. He feels ever so slightly better.

“I knew you’d do something like this,” Eunsu says. He starts to pick the boxes up off the floor. Mingeun doesn’t make a move to help him, even though it was his fault. “I had to wait until it was too late for you to stop me.”

“I wouldn’t stop you,” Mingeun says. It’s an obvious lie. He moves a pile of clothes from Eunsu’s desk chair to the floor and takes a seat.

Eunsu doesn’t even bother to call him out on it. “I didn’t want you to try to change my mind either.”

“When have I ever successfully changed your mind?”

Mingeun told him not to leave SM. Eunsu did anyway. He told him not to buy that ugly ass NFT (Minah told him they were scams). Eunsu did anyway, and was roasted alive on Twitter by their fans. Mingeun watched it all happen in real time in an almost self-satisfied way.

“This time could be different,” Eunsu says.

“If you say it like that, it sounds like you don’t want to leave.” Mingeun doesn’t allow himself to have hope.

“I don’t think I want to leave,” Eunsu says, beginning to stack his clothes in a suitcase.

“Then why?” Mingeun asks, frustrated. “Does it have to do with Yonggeum?”

He knows Eunsu hasn’t been himself ever since his brother’s death. He thought that was something he’d get over by now.

“It has everything to do with Yonggeum-hyung,” Eunsu says, sounding like he went to the Lee Taein School of Public Speaking. “It was his duty to inherit the temple. Mine was anything but that.”

Mingeun nods along like he didn’t hear all of this two years ago, when Eunsu tried to out-drink Andrew and got so drunk he threw up twice in the bathroom and once in his bed. The two of them had crammed themselves into Mingeun’s twin-sized bed, and Eunsu had overshared for probably the first and only time in his life.

So Mingeun knows how his idol dream took shape: Yonggeum’s wishful thinking for a way out, for Eunsu to experience everything he couldn’t; how Eunsu interpreted that as seeing the world and finding no other way to do it other than becoming a celebrity; discovering a passion for music and moving to Seoul to reinvent himself. He did that last part so well Mingeun is still jealous that he couldn’t do the same.

Eventually, Eunsu stops packing and keeps talking. “I don’t know if it was my dream or his dream. I keep asking myself what he would do in this situation. I wish he could tell me what the right choice is.”

“What about the moth?” Mingeun asks suddenly.

Eunsu tilts his head. “Moths don’t talk.”

“But when you were backstage, you had that conversation.” He feels like he’s losing his mind.

“It doesn’t work like that. It wasn’t a conversation. Moths don’t talk.”

Now Mingeun feels stupid. Of course moths can’t talk.

“So that’s it?” he says, trying to save face. “It’s over?”

“It is for me,” Eunsu says. “It’s not the end for you. You can keep performing. I know that’s what you want.”

Mingeun doesn’t have the heart to tell him that sometimes, he doesn’t know what he wants either. Sometimes he feels like he’ll cave to the pressure of everyone else’s perceptions and expectations, and he has no other way to deal with it except to continue on.

“I’ll do it for you,” he says instead.

Eunsu looks surprised. “You’d do something for someone else?” he jokes.

Mingeun scowls and hits him again.

It takes Eunsu the better part of a week to pack. In the end, he fits his whole life into three suitcases and five cardboard boxes. He overestimated the number of boxes he needed, and now the rest of them sit in piles in their living room, like a permanent reminder of his absence.

All seven of them—it’s strange to think of them as seven—see him off at the train’s platform. Taein and Daewoong are there too, but Mingeun couldn't care less about them.

He stays at the edge of the platform, watching as the train begins to pick up speed. Eunsu waves at him through the window. Mingeun waves back until Eunsu becomes a blur from some combination of the movement and his tears.

He feels Jaeseop’s hand on his shoulder. It has to be Jaeseop, because no one else would do that. Mingeun ducks his head away for a moment, drying his eyes.

He lets Jaeseop lead him away from the edge, resolute in some newfound determination. If he doesn’t take it upon himself to keep Eunsu’s dream alive, who else will?

#╰ to be written in ink is to be immortal — [ writing. ]#ficnetfairy #fictional idol community #kpop oc #kpop fanfic #idolverse #idol oc

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