#I wrote about half of that fic………….. maybe I’ll finish it one day…….. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

toruro · 1 year

Text

— ✧ exes and oh's

pairing. choi seungcheol x reader

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

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

fic playlist.

w/c. 15.8k+

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh? Know what?”

“Cheol and Yejin broke up a while ago.”

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

“I’m sorry. I thought you knew.”

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

“Okay but—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And if I do?” Seungcheol challenges.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck, he really needs to throw up.

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

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

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

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

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

Your smile drops faster than you can blink.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The word bounces around in your mind. Boring.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s with that face?”

“Nothing! It’s just…”

“Just what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Will you come to the next one?”

“That depends.”

“On?” he asks hopefully.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrug. “I needed to cool down.”

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

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

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

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

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

You shrug. “I guess. Busy times.”

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

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

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

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

He says your name, and you turn away.

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

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

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

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

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

“Well if you would just listen—”

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

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

“Excuse me?”

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t answer as you walk away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tonight is not your night.

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

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

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

It’s too much.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Do you trust Cheol? No.

Cheol hurt you. Yejin hurt you.

Is this about Yejin? No.

Do you trust Cheol? No.

What is this about? I don’t know.

Do you trust Cheol? I don’t know.

Can you trust Cheol? …

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

Can you trust Cheol? Of course you can.

His eyes are soft as you look up at him.

Do you trust Cheol? Absolutely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love him,” she corrects you.

“Oh,” is all you manage out.

“You’re pathetic.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, when do you get off?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that Seungcheol?”

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

“I thought you two didn’t talk.”

“Did Joshua tell you that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s fine without you.”

“But—”

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

“And you do?” Cheol shoots out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry.”

You nod. “Okay.”

“Okay?” he asks hopefully.

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

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

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

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

“I work almost everyday.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Iced latte with—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And what if he fucks up again?”

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

“They did, but that isn’t the point.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyebrows furrow when you respond, “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I remember that…” you say quietly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Choi Seungcheol’s lips are soft.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know, I’m s—”

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

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

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

“You’re right, I know.”

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

“I do.”

Do you trust Cheol?

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

“I know—that’s my fault, I know.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m still going to try.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

You look down. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“You believed her?”

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

“Okay.”

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

“I said okay.”

“Is it okay?”

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

“Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you, I love it.”

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

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

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

“Special occasions being…?”

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

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

“Like two days ago.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Which is how you end up here.

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

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

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

“Everything alright?”

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

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

Trust me, trust me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Love.

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

Trust me, trust me.

I love you.

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

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sharkboywrites · 6 months

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HIII If you're accepting requests rn I'd love to ask for something done! Floyd leech x autistic (preferably trans, but it's okay if not as well!) male reader! basically I'd love for my fave character to comfort me lol,,, Like... bodily affirmations, squeezes, lots of sweet kisses... maybe some crying... Idk!! just go with whatever comes to mind! (sorry if too vauge, I feel sooo braindead rn XD)

yah ty if you get around to this!!! it'd make my days so much better, I've already read all the stuff in the floyd x male reader tags so I'm feeling so deprived of good n' comforting content aughhh....

Bad Days

Floyd x autistic trans male reader

A/N: So funny thing I wrote like half of this and then my app reset so I have to rewrite almost I’ll of it :,) but anyways this is also kinda a comfort fic for me because I’ve been dealing with a lot of sensory issues and transphobia lately , along with being borderline denied an autism assessment so this is a fic for both of us anon

Trans male reader, autistic reader, dysphoria, sensory issues, autism meltdown, non sexual nudity

Days like these are tough. From the moment you woke up you could tell that something was wrong. It starts with the clothes. The shirt and jacket just feel wrong.

But there’s nothing else to wear so… you wear it. Then it gets worse in class. The temperature is just too much, and it makes your clothes feel so much worse, like you want to just scratch at your skin until the feeling stopped.

The noises the people make around you are unbearable. The gum chewing, the lip smacking, all of it is just to much. It makes you want to tear your hair out and rip your ears off.

The lights are too bright and everyone is just so loud, it’s starting to feel like your getting a migraine, like you just can’t take it anymore and start screaming at any moment.

And of course somehow these feelings just make you more aware of your body. You’re suddenly hyper aware of your chest, your waist, your face, even your voice. It’s all too much.

Luckily, when you first came to Night Raven Colege, you thought ahead about this. It was important for your teachers to understand your situation, diagnosis or not.

Crewel was aware of your situation, and with one look you’re able to slip out of class. You rush back to your dorm as quickly as possible, suddenly grateful that classes were going on so nobody could see you. You can’t help the whines that slip from your throat as you desperately try to hold yourself back from completely breaking down into a mess of screams and cries.

You’re able to quickly make it back to your dorm, locking yourself in your room and throwing off your uniform. Sure, being completely naked almost in tears in your dorm room isn’t the most flattering thing, but you just had to get that stupid uniform off.

Rubbing down the worst feeling parts of your body, you’re able to calm down enough to dig out your favorite clothes and throw them back on, even if they not be in the best state. You just need them right now.

Being able to use any type of noise cancelling headphones or earbuds helps calm you down a little bit more. Just having them in, even if you’re not playing anything, it helps get all of the noises from the day out of your head.

A drink of water also helps. In very few gulps you’re able to swallow almost an entire bottle of water. You lay down in your bed, breathing heavily as you start to calms down in a safer environment.

As you lay in bed, you can feel your soft blanket in your feet, rubbing them back in forth to get a nicer sensation than what you were feeling for most of the day.

Taking a few more sips of water, completely finishing off the water bottle, you take your stim toy of choice. You have all of your favorite options thanks to everyone at NRC giving them to you. As you fidget and play one of your favorite videos, you start to think. You managed to slip out of class, and you didn’t even hurt yourself or make a complete mess of your room. At least that’s some progress.

You’re cut off by your thinking by a knock on the door. Not able to form words at the moments, you pull yourself out of bed and peek out of the door.

Standing there is your tall, rather intimating boyfriend.

“Eh? Shirmpy what happened? You just left class so suddenly…”

He has his usual playful drone to his voice, but you can tell the slight hint of concern, a difference you’re sure only you and his brother can notice.

You stay silent, just giving him a pained look and hoping he understand. He does.

“Not talkin’? Alright… you want me to stay?”

You’re able to give him a small nod, and he walks right in and practically jumps onto your bed, making grabby hands at you, his mood doing almost a 180, as he usually does.

You could always depend on Floyd to understand what you’re going through. He also has his fair share of his own mood swings and tantrums, he’s never judge you for your own.

You walk back to bed and slowly slink into his arms, leaning against his chest comfortably. Floyd was somehow never too hot or too cold to cuddle with. He was somehow always the perfect temperature no matter what you were feeling. It almost feels like he knows how to control his own body temperature on purpose.

He squeezes you tight, not as hard as he does when he’s mad at someone or intentionally trying to hurt them, but a real, genuine hug. And it’s perfect. Others would complain that his squeezes are way to tight, but to you it’s perfect. He’s almost like a weighted blanket. You’re glad you make him feel safe enough to hug you as hard as he wants with genuine love.

He snuggle close to you, leaving soft kisses on his he top of your head and cheek, but not anywhere that may be uncomfortable in your overstimulated time. He’s mindful of where exactly he’s touching you, he knows what parts don’t want to be touched in these moments, even the most obscure ones.

As the two of you snuggle and watch whatever you chose to put on, he mutters sweet things to you.

“I love yooou.” “My boyfriend….” “My boy.” “So handsome”

It seems like he’s in a lovey mood now. Even with his sudden switches, he always seems to know the right things that you need to hear. He also checks up on how you’re feeling.

“Are ya comfortable?” “Feelin’ any better?” “Are you too warm?” “Do ya want your stuffed animal?” “Want me to move my arms?”

When you aren’t talking, the both of you are in a comfortable silence. It starts to become hard to keep your eyes open after the day you’ve had combined with the cozy environment with your boyfriend holding you tight.

Eventually, you can’t fight the exhaustion anymore and feel yourself starting to drift. Before you fully fall asleep, you feel a soft kiss on the top of your head and the arms around you squeeze just a bit tighter.

“G’night Shirmpy, sweet dreams…”

Aaah I love writing comfort fics. Usually my head cannon style posts do better than my actual fics so I guess I’ll see how this goes. Also this is based on my own experience with autism, so if it doesn’t fit you I’m sorry, Ty for reading and have a nice day

#male reader #sharkboywrites #mlm #mlm blog #twst #twst x male reader #twst x reader #twst fanfic #autistic reader #ftm reader #trans reader #transmasc reader #floyd x male reader #floyd leech x male reader #floyd leech x reader #floyd x reader

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precious-little-scoundrel · 3 months

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Dear John | Part 2

Masters of the Air Fanfiction

Part 1

Series Summary: Major John Egan wasn’t the pen-pal sort but a couple of hours into a dark night full of writing condolence letters he finds himself wondering why he never tried his hand at the nicer forms of correspondence. Who better to reanimate his numb inspiration than the glamorous Miss Lana Tierney? -the army’s girl next door, the pinup so prolific she was practically a wall paper print and Bucky’s long-standing cinematic crush. It’s not like she’ll read it anyways. Right? Right.

Warnings: suggestive language, crass vocabulary, the vintage form of sexting -honestly this is mostly fluffy in reply to his more overt letter

Author’s note: after episode four I’ve got feelings and fics for this universe that are far ahead of these establishing pieces. So I’ve gone ahead and tossed this preliminary one out but I may very well skip around and ahead to October next. At least now y’all know: she wrote him back. Hehe. If it’s of interest, I’ll probably end up writing John’s reaction to receiving this response as well as Gale’s response to realizing his friend actually went and sent that awful thing.

Date: Early August, 1943

Dear John, (I’m sorry Major Egan, I just had to)

Thank you for your kind letter of the 18th. It’s been many years since I received so delightful a correspondence or so candid an expression of admiration. And you should know I keep most of the letters the sweet people of this country send me. They’re stacked in quite an orderly fashion in my various garages, kept for the rainy days to peruse and keep the blues away and also so I might try very hard to reply. I don’t take such affection for granted. It’s humbling really, always has been, to be so loved by folks but it’s another level entirely to be singled out by someone as brave and impressive as yourself.

I found your letter to be heartfelt and wonderfully brave and in an effort to be equally transparent, you should know that when I finished it I clutched it to my breast and whispered half a dozen prayers for you. Or as you might say, I held it to my knockers.

That’s an awful word, you must know that Major.

As is “rack”, for that matter, but I’ve a sneaking suspicion that you would make it sound charming as even your blotted paper was electric. How could you dare to praise my film set flapjacks and mention making babies? I’m fizzing just glancing at it. You really must be quite the fella and I’m terribly sad now that our rendezvous, such as you say it was, got cut short. You must reprimand your friend -Buck, is it?- and tell him he did an bad deed that night. There’s nothing I like better than duets and hamburgers, we might’ve been one of the great loves by now if he hadn’t meddled. But don’t be too hard on him, if he’s the sort to take it well, kiss him for me, after you chide him.

But since we are being honest, I must admit, reading your letter, being privy to your thoughts, seeing myself through your eyes as it were - dear man, I feel rather riled. Quite riled, in fact. Why, I haven’t felt riled in a while, not like this. Not like an ordinary girl with an extraordinary boy. Do you know what I mean?

Maybe you don’t.

I mean regular, old fashioned flustered. That’s what you’ve made me. And thank you for that, John. Can I call you Johnny? I wonder if you’re the nickname sort, or if you’re real stern and serious, a real John-John. Not a Johnny at all. But either way, I think you deserve a treat, for being so nice, Major Egan. For reminding me I can feel my pulse somewhere besides my wrists before a show -and for all you’re doing in the war, besides. There seems to be no safer hands to trust this to, you do seem so very fond of them, I am led to believe you’d be protective of them, too.

Enclosed is something for the personal morale, I hope you’ll think of me nightly with it at hand, in fact, I’m so excited about it I’ve taken this ill advised measure to insure you do. I’d very much like a report, do they live up to your expectations? They’re homegrown, after all, I hadn’t much say in them but now I’ve got them, I don’t see why they shouldn’t do their bit to keep you alive. A small sacrifice.

One of those reasons you mentioned, John, you’ve so many of them, more than you know. A million souls over here rooting you on, insisting you make it out the other side.

I’m forefront among them, I’ll be scanning the crowd when I come to Europe -because I will, at your invitation. Perhaps if you send me a picture of your own mug I won’t be looking a fool asking every man in uniform if I remind them of an acorn. Are you going to tell me what on earth that means? I’ve tried to work it out but I always end up with some mathematical conundrum and I just know in my heart of hearts you wouldn’t let me down like that, would you Major? It’s something awfully salacious, isn’t it? Please let it be!

I’m a vain little thing and I can’t deny the way this poor heart of mine is all pitter pattering at the thought of you being so awful while also so nice. It’s a strange blend, and rather like my coke, I do prefer my men mixed.

Best wishes, may you have cloudless skies and fresh coffee to your heart's content. My sources -and I’ve excellent ones, an upside of working the war bond circuit- tell me you’re airforce. I think that’s remarkable and I hope you give that picture some thought. Mine, and yours.

Your vain little friend,

Julia Jean Turner

P.S.-I’m only ever ‘The Lana Tierney ‘ to strangers, and we aren’t strangers now, are we? not if you’re to take my picture to your bunk. i suspect you may have already taken that liberty. who’s to say I did not take similar liberties upon reading certain stirring passages of your letter? Xx 💋

__insert vintage titty pic__

Whew this week was a doozy wasn’t it? Here’s some fluff for those of y’all who needed it, and I can promise angst soon for those who want to stay in the soul shattering mood. Hope you enjoy. Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, let me hear your screams.

Drop a comment to let me know if you’d like to be tagged in any of my MOTA fics. Xo

Taglist:

@stylespresleyhearted

@ab4eva

@earth-to-lottie

@suraemoon

@blurredcolour

@steph-speaks

@crazymadpassionatelove

@rubyfruitjungle

@taestrwbrry

#masters of the air #masters of the air fanfiction #john egan #John Egan x oc #mota fanfic #bucky egan #dear john

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mothwingwritings · 3 months

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Release

F!Reader X Ren Hana

Hello everyone!!! Back at it again with a new Boyfriend To Death fic ❤

I know what you might be saying. “Wow another BTD fic based around a collar, real original Moth” BUT in my defense I actually wrote this one before the story I wrote for Strade. My brain barfed this out a few months ago (when I finished playing through Ren’s route for the first time) but I wanted to make something Christmas-esque because it was December, so Strade’s story came out first.

Regardless, I had a lot of fun writing both, so I hope you enjoy them too! ❤

Though there is nothing overtly sexual in this, due to the subject nature of this fic this story is 18+ ONLY please!!!

Warnings: imprisonment, abuse (physical and mental), reader has some extreme Stockholm syndrome going on, incredibly unhealthy relationship, biting, blood, reader gets hurt, mentions of sex, I guess maybe petplay potentially??? (what with the collar and all).

Thank you for reading!

“Okay… You promise you’ll be a good girl, right? No funny business?”

Despite being perched on soft carpet, your legs ached from kneeling on them for the past half hour. You kept your back pin straight and your shoulders even, your hands neatly folded in your lap. His voice was cheery as he spoke down to you, playful even, but you knew Ren well enough to know that these next moments were crucial. With him, even the most benign moments could turn at the drop of a hat.

“I promise Ren. I’ll be good.”

Your voice was soft as you responded to him, big doe eyes looking up at the beastkin in expectation. Your promise wasn’t a lie- you always intended to be good for him, striving to do so even when the situation made that nearly impossible. You bit your bottom lip apprehensively, a slight shiver wracking Ren’s body when you did so. He was watching you just as closely as you were him, drinking in your form, honing in on each and every move of your body and change of expression.

He smiled at you, that sad half smile he always got when he was grappling with his inner emotions. “I know you will. You are always good for me… To me…” He hesitated for a moment, staring with trepidation at the key that lay in his hand. It was no bigger than his pinky, but seemed to weigh him down regardless.

“I’m just, um, nervous I guess. But I’m not sure why? It’s not like taking it off is gonna change anything,” Though he laughed to dispel the tension, it had the opposite effect, his nerves palpable as he fidgeted where he stood.

For a moment you thought he was going to go back on his word. Tell you to forget about it and toss the shock collar’s key aside, leaving you stuck in it for another day. Part of you wondered if that would even matter. Ren was right, nothing truly would change, collar or not.

… But still, you couldn’t help but hope. That cruel, nagging feeling swelled up in your heart, making your breath hitch in anticipation. Your heart beat like a drum in your chest and sweat slicked your brow as you watched him nervously turn the key around in his palm, your fate in his hands as he mulled the decision over.

It had been months now that the collar had been around your neck, heavy and overbearing, a constant, torturous reminder of your new life. He had only allowed it to come off in brief intervals when you showered or when you slept so that you could find some comfort as you laid next to him, caged in by his embrace. Otherwise it wrapped around your neck like a noose, and even though these days its intended purpose was hardly necessary, Ren kept it firmly in place. He was too afraid to keep it off you for long, worried that given the choice you would abandon him too.

But you wouldn’t. For better or worse, whatever twisted feelings Ren had harbored for you, you now shared for him-all of his ardent affections reciprocated. Deep inside you knew this all was wrong, and it would be a blatant lie if you said you no longer felt any fear or sadness over all that had transpired (all that continues to transpire) while he held you in captivity. Even so, none of that dulled the fact that at this point you craved his touch, yearned for his smile, and wanted nothing more than his companionship and love to get you through the lonely struggle life had become.

After spending months with him as your only companion, you had grown to care deeply for Ren. Though the experience was often terrifying and confusing, you had learned to place your trust in him as he watched over you the past half year, relying on him for all your needs and necessities. The more time you spent together, the more you learned about him. And the more you learned, the more you began to open up to him.

After a certain point, love began to blossom.

That feeling flourished within, growing so unruly that even his moments of torment and cruelty were accepted with open arms. It took you awhile to realize it, but you now understand that everything Ren does he does for your benefit. Whether he was treating you like a princess or teaching you a harsh lesson, Ren did everything in his power to make sure you were cared for, protected, and aware. Life wasn’t always fair and kind, it was better to be taught that at the hands of someone who loved you then to experience it unexpectedly out in the wild.

Looking back on it now, you were a fool not to appreciate him sooner. All the fussing and fighting you did when he first brought you home seemed completely ridiculous now. He took you in, let you live in a nice home, prepared you home cooked meals every day, and lavished you in affection even when you were being stubborn and didn’t deserve it.

For all that he is and all that he has done for you- the good and bad alike- he deserved nothing but your wholehearted devotion in return. Thinking about the past made you cringe but you refused to let yourself get caught up in it, doing your best every day to be good for him and make up for your prior indiscretions. He loved you with all that he is, poured his soul into caring for you and keeping you content. No past lover had ever treated you with the loyalty or attention that Ren had, and you were thankful for that.

His happiness had become your happiness. To risk the life you had built together by taking advantage of his kindness was unthinkable.

But even with your steadfast dedication to him, he still continued to mull over this decision with a deep scowl plastered on his face. An ache blossomed in your chest. Surely he had to realize by now that he was just as precious to you as you were to him? You pouted a bit as you watched him agonize over the situation, your heart hurting to see him have such a lack of faith in your bond.

“… Ren?”

Your questioning voice caught his attention, dragging his focus away from the key he was clutching in his sweaty grip. The moment you had grabbed his attention, you slowly began scooting closer to him, your knees itching as they scratched against the fibers of the fancy carpet. Once you neared him, you raised your hands till they cupped his, gently enveloping his shaky fist in your warm hold. You pulled his hand towards your mouth, delicately kissing each of his fingers as you stared up into his eyes.

“If you don’t want to take it off, you don’t have to,” you smiled at him genuinely, your lips lingering on his thumb before you pulled away. You felt a shiver pass through him as his eyes grew hazy, boring into yours with growing intensity, “I can tell it’s making you uncomfortable, so it’s OK. I am not upset, we can keep it on another day-“

“No.”

Your eyes widened at the assuredness in his voice, all previous concern nonexistent. “No… It’s time to take it off. It’s only getting in the way at this point. Just… Gimme a second, OK?”

He positioned himself behind you, nervous hands fumbling as he worked to remove the collar. After several seconds of poking and prodding, a loud ‘click’ came from the back of your neck followed by a small thud as the heavy collar fell from your body, colliding with the carpeted floor.

Your hand’s shot up to touch your exposed skin, a shiver coursing through you as the cold air hit your sweaty flesh. Tears began to well in your eyes as the realization donned on you. You were free. You had been a good girl for Ren and he rewarded you for it, just like you knew he would.

“W-well,” you heard Ren stutter above you, clearly a bit nervous about what may happen next, “What do you think? How does it feel?”

“It feels amazing,” your voice warbled as you still got used to the sensation. Its absence was foreign and exciting and you couldn’t help but break out in a huge, elated grin. “Thank you Ren. Thank you so much.”

He lowered himself in front of you, crouching on his knees. “Can I see?” A hint of worry still remained in his timid voice, fearful that you may still end up rejecting him.

You looked to him with a smile and nodded, baring your neck for him to witness. “Of course! I probably look a little bit different without it on, huh?”

“Pretty…” His voice was breathless as he dragged his fingers gingerly across the freed skin of your neck. His pupils dilating slightly as he felt you shudder under his touch. “So, so pretty… But also, a little barren, don’t you think?”

Your breath caught at the insinuation, a small wave of panic causing your body to tense. Did he regret his decision after all? Was he going to put the collar back on? You had told him it was fine if he decided that, and you weren’t someone who went back on their word, but at the same time… that was before you experienced it. Now that you realized how good it felt without that horrible, weighty reminder clinging to your skin, you dreaded the thought of it attached to your body once more.

An airy chuckle fell from his lips as he noted your reaction. He leaned in closer to you, his hand cupping your cheek as he brought his mouth close to your ear.

“Don’t worry pumpkin, I’m not going to put it back on. But I do hate the idea of you walking around without something on your body to signify that you’re mine, you know?” His caress traveled from your cheek, his right hand snaking around your head to cradle it, pulling you closer to him. His free hand wrapped around your waist, which kept you flush against him.

“I want to give you something better than that collar,” his voice had become strained, lithe fingers curling up to entangle in your hair, tugging roughly on the strands at the base of your neck. “I want you to have something personal, something that will look perfect on you.”

Without another word, he latched himself to your neck. Not in a kiss, but a harsh, powerful bite.

You gasped as his sharp incisors dug themselves into your flesh, a wave of pain causing tears to flood your eyes. You pressed your fists against his chest, biting down on your trembling bottom lip in an effort to hold back your cries.

Warm blood trickled from the wound as he detached himself, a vibrant trail snaking from the puncture wound to slither down your neck. His tongue stopped it before it hit your collar bone, leaving a wet, sloppy streak across your neck as he licked up the mess.

“This is much better, right?” He asked tentatively, his fingers traveling down to trace the wound he had inflicted. Blood coated his fingertips as he ran them over the injury, his breath hitching as he smeared you with crimson, “prettier… you are so pretty, (name)…”

“T-thank you Ren,” you flinched at the movement of his fingers, shuddering as he pressed down on the open wound, “It’s much better.”

“Hmmm,” he hummed, pivoting your head slightly so that he could nuzzle into the unmarred side, “but it’s not perfect yet, there needs to be more.”

Another abrupt bite sunk into your flesh. This time you couldn’t help but cry out, blubbery whimpers tumbling from your quivering lips. You felt Ren shiver against you, your reactions eliciting an excited moan from him that was muffled by your flesh in his jaw. The hold his teeth had on you eventually yielded, but the assault of his mouth did not. Feverish kisses pressed against the new wound, his tongue lapping at the blood as it muscled its way across the puncture. You whined at the sensation, waves of pain emanating from the weeping, gory wounds as he continued to aggravate them.

When he finally pulled away tears had already begun to fall freely down your cheeks. Though he had given your neck a much needed break, you were given no time to collect yourself as he proceeded in pressing his lips firmly to yours. The taste of copper flooded your tongue as he deepened the kiss, forcibly pushing himself against you until you had no choice but to lean backwards, your back falling flat against the floor as he crawled overtop you.

He placed his hands on either side of you, his legs straddling your hips as he sat himself atop you. You were effectively caged in when his lips parted from your own, and though his face was obscured in shadows, you could clearly see a swath of your blood spread across his mouth. It perfectly complimented the animalistic hunger in his eyes, his mischievous fox like features seeming far more sinister than normal as he leered down at you.

If you didn’t know any better, you would fear he was going to eat you alive.

“I want to mark you in all kinds of ways, (Name),” His tongue darting out to swipe across his bottom lip, a sliver of pink peeking through the red, “I want to mark you to show you how much I love you. I want you to be able to look at every inch of your body and be reminded of me. That way even if we get separated, you won’t be lonely. You’ll have a constant reminder of how much I love you.”

A serene smile spread across his face as he looked at you, the vibrancy of his blush nearly matching the blood that coated his mouth and chin. He shifted a bit above you, the feel of his hardening cock unmistakable as it pressed against your pelvis.

“I love you,” his voice wavered as he leaned closer towards you, unsteady breaths fanning your face as his lovesick eyes drank you in. His lips were teasingly close to yours as he continued to smile down at you, a small, happy laugh tumbling from his lips as his tail began to swish behind him in excitement.

“I’m so glad I made you mine.”

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moongurl95 · 14 days

Text

7 Times the Charm

GN!MC / May or may not be an alternate version of a long fic I'm working on, but I've hit a writing rut and this prompt by @serpensortiamaxima (this is dedicated to you too OP!) got me churning out this piece until 4AM (now i can sleep with my brain empty! XD) also divider credits here

Summary: It was no secret that the Three Broomsticks can also be considered a social gathering for the latest news, and Sirona Ryan, the owner was at the neck of it. Or, a glimpse of a blooming relationship she'd observed since that Troll Attack in Hogsmeade. (One-shot also posted on AO3)

“Oh, there’s a face I haven’t seen before.” This may be the first time Sirona Ryan’s memory seemed to have failed her as she was confident in remembering her clientele.

“It’s my first time here.” The student had replied almost sheepishly, which explained everything to the bar owner. Of course, she’d heard about the latest talk in the streets of a Hogwarts student having been caught in a dragon attack.

“Welcome! Butterbeers on me.” Sirona assumed that the student was a transferee, after all, she’d never heard of a student starting this late in their Hogwarts education. “Glad to see you two escape injury.” She glanced between the two students with growing worry, having planned to check on the other shopkeepers and residents once the crowd had buzzed down from the recent Troll Attack in Hogsmeade.

“Thanks to this one. Single-handedly took down a Troll!”

“Is that right? Well done.” Of course Sirona couldn’t take the Sallow boy’s claim seriously, not when she was sure of the way the boy had looked admiringly at his new classmate. Before she could decide to play matchmaker however, they were interrupted by some brutes’ arrival.

The second time Sirona next saw the pair was on a relatively calm day in the Three Broomsticks, she considered herself not eavesdropping at all while the two students had quite the passionate discussion over a round of Butterbeer.

“Honestly! Why do you have to trouble yourself on a trip to get something for my sister? Anne wrote she’d be delighted by your very presence alone.”

“Because Sebastian, it’s common courtesy to bring a gift when visiting your friend’s family.”

Now this seemed to be a development. Sirona had to keep herself looking busy as she wiped away at the mugs on the counter, casting a knowing glance by the corner table to quickly spy the flustered look on the Sallow boy’s face.

Sirona could only hope to Merlin that his ‘friend’ fancied him the way he seemed to.

In exchange for asking her assistance on where to find her friend, Lodgok, Sirona in turn thought to request the new student’s help in retrieving her box of letters. Though she never would have predicted they’d also come as a pair this third time around.

“I’m not letting you go alone. And for Merlin’s sake, why a mine of all places? Do you happen to know what sort of creatures could possibly live there??”

Sirona could only watch in amusement as the Sallow boy was being pushed out by his classmate in an attempt to shush him, “Alright, alright – I’ll tell you all about it on the way. Just get going so we can at least finish this while there’s still sun out.”

The door to the Three Broomsticks had shut after their departure so Sirona could only guess how the rest of their day would go. One thing was for sure though, if she’d initially thought the Sallow boy only fancied his new friend before, then now Sirona was absolutely certain the boy was now smitten.

Maybe there was good reason to owl Mirabel after all, nothing better than an entertaining chat about young love over tea.

The next time Sirona served Butterbeer to the new student at the counter, she was half expecting them to be with a familiar face. Instead, they sat alone, looking quite under the weather as they seemed to stare unseeing into the tankard, Sirona was just about ready to lend a listening ear after she’d served all the other customers’ orders when the student had stood up just as a familiar Slytherin entered the premises.

Sirona was quick to notice the two of them weren’t on speaking terms as they passed by each other – the Sallow boy taking the stool beside where his friend just left. She chose to quietly serve him his share of Butterbeer before she continued to keep busy.

“Sirona, would you apologize if you said something… true but ended up sounding… mean?”

So that was how it was… “Well dear, first of all, it’s not what you said, but how you made them feel. So yes, an apology should be expected.”

“But… how?”

Sirona raised an eyebrow at him as if to say the answer should be obvious enough, but ended up sighing in exasperation as the boy looked pitifully at a lost, “If you aren’t ready to tell them personally, then a letter might suffice, and don’t make it just a simple apology either – at least, offer to take them somewhere you’d think would be meaningful to them.”

“A letter! That’s just it, of course!” Sirona watched as the boy waved his hand in thanks as he rushed out the doors, she hoped everything would turn up for the better the next time she saw those two together.

It didn’t however, for just days before the 5th, Sirona herself had received an unmarked letter notifying her of Lodgok’s passing – his gentle soul did not deserve the fate he was dealt with by his brother’s hands. Yet also here in her supposedly lively pub, sat another lost soul who she dearly tried to keep from straying to the Hog’s Head by keeping the Sallow boy’s tankard refilled with Butterbeer.

She’d heard he just lost his uncle and that the Sallow girl also informed him late, the poor twins were now left all alone.

And just when Sirona felt the boy slipping away, from the doors came in a face who she hoped would be successful in reeling Sallow from his darkest thoughts.

“Sebastian!”

Sirona was glad to see the boy encased in a hug, he dearly looked like he needed one…

“You’re safe now. I promise, I wouldn’t let them take you away.”

It may have well been a secret language only the two students shared with each other, but Sirona was nonetheless relieved to see the boy’s shoulders relax, the undeniable soft sob that escaped him was a sound that would forever tug at her heart.

And it seemed that heart wrenching sob echoed around the wooden panels of her establishment as the once lively pub was filled with students of varying years, all of which ranged from sniffling for their parents to a quiet uncertainty that loomed over the older ones.

Hogwarts was under attack, and despite how Sirona herself could not believe such a situation would even come about, the evacuated students who took shelter in the Three Broomsticks were enough to leave her unsettled for what was to come.

“Sirona! Are they here? Did they at least stop by here?” She could only shake her head in response, clearly seeing the Sallow boy was distraught.

“Sebastian! We have to settle ourselves and wait for Black’s announcement –“

“They could still be there, Ominis!” His next words were barely audible but somehow Sirona managed to catch a hint of it, “What if they’re fighting for their lives – alone? Against a Goblin Rebellion!”

“Attention, students!” Black did make an announcement right after that, clearing his throat as if today was a normal occurrence, “I am proud to announce that my esteemed faculty has handled the – uhm… rebellion. Yes, the Goblin rebellion – wait, what was that?”

Everyone seemed to hold their breath as a House Elf seemed to whisper the latest news to his master, who gasped out as if he was scandalized, “A casualty you say???”

Sirona felt her heart drop at the sudden news, she could only watch as Sebastian Sallow all but rushed out of the doors, fearing for the worst.

Fear melted like snow from a season past, and while Spring came a bit too late for those who grieved, the flowers still bloomed.

The Three Broomsticks was once again abuzz with an energy of celebration and nostalgia – students crowded with relief at having survived their O.W.L.s and others were busy planning their summer ahead – two of which Sirona couldn’t help but approach, “Butterbeers on me, to the Hero of Hogwarts.” She’d winked before leaving the pair in their usual spot by the counter, not really meaning to overhear…

“So… I heard Fig left you a place in his will, back to London it is for you then?”

“Yes… and Feldcroft?”

“Can’t say I relish the thought of spending summer by myself, but I have a way to keep busy by doing some odd errands here and there, I suppose.”

“What would you say to a ticket to London?”

“What..?”

“I was only really planning to spend a few weeks there, fix some things that need to be done and well… spend some time in Feldcroft with you… if you’ll have me?”

“Of course! I – but why even take me to London – not that I’m complaining but –“

“Because I care, Sebastian. I – care about you… very much.”

Sirona couldn’t keep herself from spying a glance then, very happy to see the pair both sporting flustered faces. It may have taken a while, but there wasn’t a perfect time than any to start anew.

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts #sirona ryan #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy oc #hl mc #hl oc #hogwarts legacy characters #hogwarts legacy sebastian #sebastian x mc #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy imagine #hogwarts legacy fandom #hogwarts legacy fanfic

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rosyjuly · 6 months

Note

approximately one million years ago you wrote a little 3 sentence fic about office workers George and Alex and I’m wondering how things are going for them IF you had any divine musings

Wolff finally takes mercy on them; hires three people for social media management. It’s only taken George half a year and two ppt-s to convince him that being under 30 doesn’t automatically qualify you as competent, and anyway his age is a depreciating asset. But they’re here now, and it’s great – they love to feature him, still, but at least it’s not him who has to edit the godforsaken TikTok videos to perfectly match the audio.

The only downside is that with the new colleagues, they desks no longer fit into the corner of the second floor where George has been withering away for the past two years. It wouldn’t make sense to separate the comms team, so Claire makes them move up to the third. It makes more sense to be with the marketing team, anyway, she says. But now they have got the sales department on the other side, and in the open-plan office there’s just a lot more calls George has to listen to while he drafts the copies for the latest campaign. It makes him miss the data analysts.

For the first few weeks, it’s not that bad. He either gets lunch with the new coworkers, trying to get to know the boys and girls in the marketing team, or has half a pack of crisps while trying to finish a press release, wiping his hand after every bite to avoid staining his laptop. Then the onboarding finally finishes and he doesn’t need to spend two hours each day to explain the ropes to Frederik.

All of a sudden, he looks around, watches everyone else type away or nod at their screens with their most faux-genuine face, and he feels deeply, excruciatingly alone. He picks up his phone, opening the WhatsApp thread with Alex. Instead of the steady flow of texts, he can see the date annotated after every message or two.

He’s told himself that the distance might do them good; that it’ll be healthy to stop looking over at Alex after every joke he cracks, that he shouldn’t be so attuned with Alex’s tea refills. A pint or two on Fridays would still be fine – hunched over a barrel in lieu of a table on the pavement, shoulders pressed together and complaining about the bloody ridiculous prices. But he didn’t expect this. The hollow, tender part in his ribcage that feels half-filled with regret as he thumbs through Alex’s texts about how he didn’t know Quality Assurance could be so bad, and maybe George should still be doing that much overtime if it meant that Alex didn’t have to listen to one more overzealous phone apology.

You think Sales is much better? he sends back. It’s just past noon. Wanna grab an early lunch?

YES. You won’t believe the bs Marko pulled this morning, Alex sends back almost immediately.

George shuts his laptop, doesn’t announce that he’s getting food for once, lest someone tries to join him. Walking back into data analysis should not make anyone feel fond, yet here he is; the philodendron on Patrick’s desk has a new leaf.

“Here to pick Alex up?” Patrick asks, pushing his headphones back. It makes George’s stomach warm, both with embarrassment and, mortifyingly, with pride.

“You know how he is,” he tells Patrick, “gets lost in those Excel sheets and I’ll starve to death.”

“I’m ready, shut up,” Alex says, saving his work with a few efficient motions. “First person to complain about me in the sheets, I’ll tell you that–”

“And how would I know?” George asks, trying to ignore the hot shiver that runs up his spine. Alex whips around and George almost walks into his chest; when he raises his eyes, Alex is looking at him with his head tilted, like he’s a pattern Alex needs to find in a set of corrupted data.

#i cannot find the old prompt for the LIFE OF ME #sorry i got carried away thinking about structures as usual #george/alex #little fic #rosy.ask #my fic

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eddiemunsonswhxre · 2 years

Text

never be me / eddie munson

masterlist

one shot

cw: angst, painful as heck, cursing, tears galore

eddie decides he’ll never be good enough for you and refuses to let you believe otherwise.

a/n: i want to include this in a possible future fic i’ll be writing so here’s a sneak peak of the pain it will cause :) also i wrote this in the car on the way to tennessee so if it sucks or has a lot of errors im sorry

eddie knew it was a dumb idea from the start. you were pretty, popular, a token good girl. and he was him.

you deserved one of those preppy boyfriends who took you to nice restaurants, wasn’t afraid to hold your hand in public, and one who didn’t have a reputation as he did. he couldn’t even let himself make it official with you. he was too scared.

now he was making it to your house as he did almost every thursday. except today it wasn’t for a study session. he’d graduated, because of you. you’d both graduated that previous weekend. he felt terrible as he thought of how to go about this. he’s never broken up with someone before, shit he’s never been this involved with someone before. he’s never loved anyone like this before.

he wanted to be selfish and keep you forever, but you had such a big future ahead of you. you’d been accepted to harvard, your dream school, and he didn’t want you having to worry about him. he’d corrupted you, so badly, and he regretted every second of it because all along he knew no matter how much he wanted too he wasn’t going to stay with you.

he’d changed you from your parents golden girl who never put a finger out of place to one who constantly defied them. you drank, you smoked, you began questioning your beliefs in god that you were so firm in when you first moved here, you were different. he took all those qualities away from you, but the thing he regretted the most was taking your virginity.

he held your purity ring in his hand as he walked up towards your front door. his hand was shaking while he stared at the dainty silver ring he wore on his necklace for the last two months. he took your virginity, something that was super important to you, just because he was selfish. he wanted to live in ignorance as long as possible, but he couldn’t spend any more time pretending like he wasn’t going to break your heart at some point. he took a deep breath and rang your doorbell.

it took a few moments and your door was flinging open. “eds! i didn’t know you were coming,” you say, smile covering your face as you fling yourself into his chest. eddie closes his eyes and gulps.

he lightly rests his arms on your back before pulling out of the hug. “sorry, i was just wondering if we could talk,” he says weakly. you nod, standing on your toes to press a peck to his lips before grabbing his hand and guiding him inside.

“oh, i was going to call you earlier but i’ve been cleaning all day,” you began as you guided him to your bedroom. “i was thinking maybe we could go to that one water park outside of indianapolis on saturday? i know you’ve never been, and we could take robin and steve too?” you asked excitedly, recalling eddie previously mentioning how fun a water park looked.

eddie feels the inside of his nose burn as he already feels like crying. he wills them back, wanting you to believe he wanted this breakup. “i can’t,” he says firmly and you half turn to him on the stairs with a frown.

“oh, well then we can go sunda-“

“i can’t,” he interrupts you and you close your mouth slowly.

you reach the top of the stairs at this point and pout. “maybe we can go next weekend then?” you suggest.

eddie feels the pain in his heart intensify already. “uh, no, y/n, i don’t think so,” he says and your pout turns into confusion. “can we just- please sit down i have some stuff i need to get out,” he huffs, more frustrated with himself then anything.

“yeah, um, o-okay,” you stutter nervously. you finish walking him to your room, dropping his hand as you sit on your bed.

he bites his lip, pacing and rubbing his hand over his face as he tries to compose himself. you look at him with concern, worried something was wrong. he looks into your eyes, faltering as he sees the worry painted in them. he wanted to back out, maybe spit out that he loved you and finally wanted to be what you wanted.

but he couldn’t. because you deserved better than him. he walks up to you and holds your ring out to you. “you should take this back,” he says shakily.

you look from his eyes to the ring. “why?” you ask.

eddie grits his teeth nervously, looking away from you. “i um-,” he starts, having to stop and take a deep breath. “whatever we are… i want it to be, to be done. i-i’m breaking up with you,” he says, looking anywhere but your eyes.

the whole world around you went blurry. your ears started to ring as a huge lump took hold in your throat. you’re silent for a moment as you process what he just said. break up. he doesn’t want you anymore. eddie looks to you and when he does his heart crumbles. he wants to take it back, but it’s too late. “b-break up?” you whisper and eddie winces.

he nods and looks off to the side again, tearing his gaze from your broken expression. “this just isn’t working, y/n,” he says softly.

“w-what isn’t working? i did- i did everything you wanted,” you ask, desperate. eddie closes his eyes as a knife digs into his already torn heart. you were right, you did everything he asked you to and here he was, saying you weren’t enough. fuck.

“we just aren’t meant to be together, okay?” he says, grabbing your wrist and placing the ring in your hand. tears stream down your face as the cold metal makes contact with your hand.

you looked up to him, swearing you saw the regret in them. “but we are, you-you said so,” you say and eddie furrows his brows.

he shakes his head, “i never said that,” he whispers, wracking his mind to try and remember if he did.

your lip quivers as a sob threatens to spill from your lips. “you did,” you sob out and eddie resists with everything in him to keep from scooping you into his arms and telling you it was all okay, that it was just a mistake. “after graduation, when we all got drunk at steve’s, you told me that you never wanted to be with anyone else. that we were-were made for each other,” you cry and eddie’s entire face falls.

“i-i did?” he chokes. he didn’t think he got that drunk that night.

you nod your head yes before standing. “take the ring back, it belongs to you now,” you say, holding it out.

his guilt filled eyes begin to water. “y/n, no, that’s yours,” he whispers.

a bit of rage enters your bloodstream. “no, because you took it, remember? i let you because you made me believe you cared about me! so, this is yours,” you say, slamming it into his chest and waiting for him to take it. he does with shaky fingers, intimidated by your small outburst. you never lost your temper.

you turn around, pulling at your hair so hard you feel like your scalp could bleed. eddie feels himself collapsing on the inside at the state of you. he reaches out towards you, wanting to pull you into him. “you told me you loved me… you lied?” you ask, refusing to turn to him.

eddie doesn’t know what to say. he does love you, but he doesn’t want you to convince him to stay. “that doesn’t matter,” he dismisses, resting his hand on your shoulder.

you fling his hand off you and spin around. “doesn’t matter?! are you fucking serious?” you scream, causing eddie to physically jump. oh fuck, you almost never cussed.

“y/n…” he starts carefully.

you shake your head, fists clenching. “no, eddie! you mean everything to me! you’re- you’re basically all i have. yeah there’s robin but she doesn’t know me like you do, i told you everything. everything! i let myself fall in love with you because you acted like and told me you loved me too. and now what? you just wanted to get to me, change me, corrupt me? take my virginity, make me need you, and then leave?” you scream.

a couple tears trickle down eddie’s cheeks. “no, no, baby, i promise you that’s not it,” he says, taking a step towards you.

you shove him back with the little strength you can manage. “then what the fuck is it?” you cry.

“i had to leave you before you left me,” he admits and you turn to glare at him.

“what?” you ask.

eddie closes his eyes. “it’s not just that, but you’re going to college, y/n. harvard for fuck’s sake! i can’t keep you when you have all these opportunities. and-and i don’t deserve you. you deserve someone so much better, someone who can make you happier than i can,” he explains and you stare at him with disappointment in your eyes as your heart splits further.

“since when did you think you got to make this choice for me? i don’t care what i deserve or what you think i deserve. i want you, eddie! i only want you,” you say, choking on your words

eddie shakes his head. “you’d be making a mistake if you stayed with me. there’s so many guys so much better than me. you said it yourself i corrupted you. you need someone stable, someone who knows how to care for you, someone who’s everything you need. and it’ll never be me. i’ll never be able to be that for you. i’m not doing this because i don’t want you or don’t love you, i’m doing this because you need to realize you can’t love me,” he explains, watching you cry.

“that’s such bullshit,” you scream, face soaked in tears.

eddie lets out a small hiccup and shakes his head. “baby, i’m doing this for you,” he says.

you cover your face with your hands as you try and grasp this. “you can’t decide this for me. i-i know what i need and i want to work on it with you because i want it to be you! maybe i wanted to be corrupted, did you ever think of that? i don’t care if you’re stable because in relationships you care for each other when you’re not. you are everything that i need, eddie,” you beg, trying to get it through to him.

eddie closes his eyes in a mix of pain and frustration. “no, i'm not. you’re not thinking long term, baby. i can’t follow you to school, you won’t even have me around and i can’t support you from hundreds of miles away even if we could work this out,” he explains.

you go quiet and let out a sob. “i denied harvard,” you whisper and eddie freezes up.

“you-you what?” he asks, stunned.

you look up to him, pain pouring from every pore of your body. “i told harvard no, eddie. i’m going to university of indianapolis, it’s like less than forty five minutes away,” you say, picking at your nails.

eddie feels his chest deflate. “why’d you… harvard is your dream school,” he says, confusion filling his bones.

you looked up at him with empty eyes. “harvard is a dream, you’re real,” you say quietly and eddie’s whole heart shatters.

“you didn’t go to harvard… because of me?” he asks in a whisper.

you nod, biting your lower lip. “you begged me not to go… told me you needed me and shit and that everyone else always leaves. i didn’t want to be everyone else, and honestly i’d rather stay close to you that start over again completely in a new state,” you admitted.

eddie closes his eyes. “that’s so,” he starts, “stupid,” he exhaled. you narrow your eyes at him, you did it because you loved him.

“i did it for you, for us,” you say, anger filling your blood again.

eddie shakes his head. “no, i-i’m not holding you back. call them, write them whatever. you need to go to harvard,” he demands.

you furrow your brows. “no, eddie i want to stay here, with you,” you say.

he shakes his head once more, swallowing. “you can’t stay here with me. be-because we’re not even together, at all anymore. i'm not changing my mind. i’m sorry, but, there’s never going to be an us,” he says, really only saying it so you’d go. he couldn’t be the reason you didn’t go to harvard. he was nothing compared to that school. that was your dream, not him.

“but, eddie, i love you, and i know you love me too-“ you say but eddie holds up his hand.

he knows you’ll probably know he’s lying, but he prepares to lie anyway. “no, i don’t. no matter what you do, i won’t be with you. just- i-i never want to see you again. goodbye, y/n,” he says, turning and bolting out of your room.

your heart shatters as he leaves. “eddie!” you call, bolting after him. “eddie, wait, please,” you say, running down the stairs after him. since when was he fast?

eddie tries his best to tune you out, tears falling freely from his eyes. “eddie, please, don’t do this. please, don’t leave me,” you scream, sobbing as you blindly run out the door he left open in his rush.

eddie chokes on his sobs as he hears your pained cries. “eddie, please,” you sob, as he opens the door to his van, hopping in and starting it. you reach his passenger door which was locked but you put your hands to his window. at some point, it has started to rain and your tears were starting to bleed into the rain drops.

eddie takes one look at you and falters, he was breaking you. and it hurt like hell. “please, i love you,” you sob, hands slapping on the wet glass. it’s for your own good, eddie tells himself. he throws his van in reverse and floors it out of your driveway.

you try running after him, but he’s peeling out of your neighborhood like he was running from the police. eddie lets out a sob as he watches you fall to your knees at the end of your driveway, crying into your hands as the rain soaked through your clothes. “god damnit!” he yelled, slamming his hands on the steering wheel.

just about twenty four hours later there’s banging on eddie’s trailer door. he groans, burying himself further into his depression bed. he was currently laying in just his boxers in a mess of tissues, snot covered sheets, a blanket you’d left in his van, and holding one of your sweatshirts you kept here to sleep in. the banging doesn’t stop and suddenly on his window, causing him to jump.

“get out here, munson, i know you’re in there,” steve harringtons voice yells at his closed and covered window.

“fuck,” eddie mutters. he was definitely about to get his ass beat. he stood up, pulling on a stray pair of pajama pants and wiping his nose for the millionth time. there’s more knocking on his door and he groans. “i’m coming!” he yells hoarsely. he marches to his door, swinging it open to see robin, steve, and dustin standing at his door.

dustin’s jaw drops at the sight of eddie. his face was beet red, his eyes were swollen, red, and glossy, and his nose looking raw from rubbing it, not to mentioned his bloody lips for how much he was biting them. “where’s y/n?” robin asks directly, looking around eddie.

he furrows his brow, maybe she hasn’t told them yet. “not here?” he questions, voice nasally. robin pushes past him, deciding she needs to search for herself. “hey, what the fuck?” eddie says, stumbling back.

“she’s not with you?” steve asks, looking at dustin who looked panicked. “that’s your girlfriend, man, you’ve gotta know where she is,” he continues.

eddie coughs into his hand, eyes stinging again. “she was never my- doesn’t matter. we broke up, yesterday,” he says, crossing his arms and looking down to his toes.

“oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. that’s probably why,” dustin says, slapping steve on the arm, an alarmed expression on his face.

robin comes back to them, tears in her eyes. “i don’t know where else to look,” she whispers and eddie looks between them all.

he starts to panic, what were they talking about? “wait, what’s going on?” he asks, looking to dustin knowing he’d be the first to spill anything.

“y/n is missing,” he says and eddie’s eyes widen.

“what?” he yells, fear flooding his entire body.

robin and steve look between each other and steve knows he has to talk because robin’s about to start crying. “y/n was supposed to hang out with us last night and take dustin to breakfast this morning. she didn’t show up or answer any of our calls. we went over last night but no one answered the door. about an hour and half ago i took the hidden key they have and just went in. she’s not there but her car is and we-we found this,” steve says, reaching into his pocket. he pulls out a crumpled piece of notebook paper and hands it to eddie.

i need to be alone, please don’t look for me x -y/n

eddie feels like his soul leaves his body as he begins to shake.

oh god.

oh no.

what did he do?

#stranger things 4 #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #munson #stranger things eddie #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #stranger things #eddie #eddie x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson one shot #angst #cliffhanger #whoopsie #pain #breakup

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simp999 · 1 year

Text

I'm so proud of you, Pt. 2☆

Ship: Giacomo x GN! Reader

Series: Pokémon

Word count: 4.2k(9.1k total)

A/N: My longest fic yet, I stayed up 'til 4 am for this, I wrote every lyric out myself help

Warnings: swears in song lyrics, skipped some lyrics to shorten it up. You can skip playing the songs, but I'd suggest playing the last one for sure!

Themes: Comfort, fluff, friends to lovers

Taglist: @ultranimallover33 @5centsanhour

Masterlist

Chapter 1

Giacomo woke up to rays of sun shining into his room, getting too bright for him to continue snoozing. He laid on his side, his arms in front of him, almost as if he should have been holding something. …Hey, hold on a sec. He should be holding something, or rather, someone.

‘No, no, no! This can’t be right, it was too real! It couldn’t have just been a dream,... right? I finally had the guts to confess and it was just in a dream?’ His face starts to feel warm, and he begins to feel his eyes sting slightly. Giacomo attempts to smile to himself.

‘Man, I sure am hopeless.’

Giacomo is about to roll back over to fall asleep to waste the rest of the day away, but an odd smell interrupts him. It smells like food. Tasty food. Pancakes? His nose forces his body to sit up and turn around to look at the kitchen area of his dorm out of curiosity. There he spots you, slightly swaying your hips and bopping your head to the sound coming from- are those his headphones? Sneaky.

He can’t help but notice his heart skip a beat, or two. Maybe three if he pays close attention. Giacomo lets out a breath he didn’t notice he was holding in, and silently makes his way over to you with a smile on his face.

He gently puts his arms around your waist and his head in the crease of your shoulder, reassuring him that yes, you’re really here. You, on the other hand, were completely focused on your pancakes and may or may not have gotten spooked by Giacomo. You pull his headphones off of your ears to rest on the counter next to you, clicking the button on them to pause the music. Bluetooth headphones sure are nice.

“Mornin’ sleeping beauty.”

Giacomo begins to sway a little, just like last night.

“Mm, can I help?” His voice is deep and muffled, given that he just woke up and has his head in the crook of your neck.

“Nah, m’ almost done.” You begin to put some carefully cut strawberries on top of your guys’ pancakes. Giacomo glances over at the nearby clock that reads 11:09. ‘No point in going to school now, I guess.’ Not that he minds spending the rest of his day with you, of course.

“How long've you been up?” Man, you could definitely get used to his morning voice. And clinginess.

“Hmm, since around seven or so.” You had to thank your mental alarm clock for that. It can be useful, you’re just about never late for school, but it even happens on days off at times. There were so many mornings where you’d wake up every hour, or even half an hour, in fear of missing school and being a 'bad example'. You finish up the pancakes by sprinkling a tiny bit of icing sugar on top, asking Giacomo to bring the maple syrup to the table so he can decide how much he wants.

“Damn, this is hella good.” He was genuinely surprised at how good the food is. Yes, it did smell amazing, but he’s also seen your sandwich skills. Yeah, not too hot when it comes to those.

You snicker at his phrasing and tell him that it’s one of your favorite breakfasts for the days when you’ve got time to yourself. Which doesn’t happen often, so it’s more of a weekend kinda thing, but this is an exception.

“And Gia?” He looks up at you from his place, his mouth completely stuffed and you can barely hear an ‘mhmm?’ from him. “Thank you. For yesterday, I mean.” You now have his full attention, “All this ‘trying to be a good example’ and being ‘the perfect champion’ isn’t something I can do anymore. It’s not like I’m just gonna quit being champ or anything, but I’ll try to take it easy from now on. Which means I won’t care about what others might think of me anymore, and I’ll be more outgoing and expressive in public. Y’know, let the people think and do whatever they want.”

“Cool.”

You look at him expecting to get more of an answer, but you look over to him only to see him shove even more pancakes in his mouth. Okay sure, that’s cute and all but come on, man.

“Gia…”

“Mhrm?” Once again, very muffled. You’re so close to laughing but you’ve got to keep your composure!

“This means I’d like to hang out more, outside of just our dorm rooms n’ stuff.”

He’s quick to chew up the last bit of food he had in his mouth, (and may have choked on it a bit).

“Oh.”

He looks at you like you’re kidding, even a little. You know that people are going to assume stuff about the two of you, and are probably going to make fun of you for hanging out with a former ‘bad guy’, right? He can’t tell what emotion was written across your face, but he could tell you weren’t joking.

“Wait like, for realsies? I’m not exactly a good example.”

You sigh, it seems this really isn’t getting through his thick skull. You grab his hand.

“Yes, for realsies. I mean it when I say I don’t care what they think anymore. And I’d say you teaching that new student guitar made you a perfect example, sweetheart. Just depends on the subject.”

He flushes a little at the mention of that scene, you remember him teaching that kid? That was forever ago. Right around the time you guys first started meeting up to battle, right? Guess you really meant it. Yet again, his heart can’t seem to slow down. So you guys will be hanging out a lot more, then. That’s fine, that’s completely fine. He’s not nervous about that, not at all. Why would he ever be nervous, huh? Not like you guys never hung out outside of school. In public. With other people around.

It’s normal for your heart to feel like this, right?

Man, you’re good at making him feel weak.

He stands up from his chair, collecting all of the dishes you two just dirtied. After he clears his mind a little, he’s back in reality.

“Um, then, what now?” He fidgets with the sleeve of the hoodie he fell asleep in.

“Well, my team and I make it a point to go outside at least once a day, and it’s quite nice outside, so how about a walk to the park?”

Of course, he’s down to go. He grabs his hat and pokéballs from the corner of his desk and Mabosstiff is already at the door, wagging his tail, ears perked up at the mention of the word 'walk'.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Mabosstiff is enjoying the walk and the warmth of the sun, while Giacomo notices a slight irritated frown on your face. He asks if something’s up, and you know that you said that you wouldn’t be worrying about stuff like this, but there’s somebody sneaking pictures of the two of you from behind. Seems like it might be someone from the journaling club. You’re not annoyed that they’re getting pictures of you and Giacomo and probably going to write about you two, actually, you might like the idea. Not that you'd admit that to Giacomo, though. But cutting in on your personal time with him? What a pain.

As soon as you mutter “Photographer, five O’clock.”, he’s making his way behind you to shield your body from the camera in one swift motion. You eventually notice that the dude left after giving up, but it seems Gia hasn’t. Makes sense, he’s probably not used to this. You bring your hand up to his and lock pinkies, bringing him back up beside you to show that you guys had nothing to worry about now. You begin to swing your arms back and forth absentmindedly.

‘Cute.’

The two of you finally make your way to the park and take a seat while your pokemon start to play. Skeledirge crawls over to Mabosstiff and they start to carefully duke it out. You find it funny how gentle Skeledirge is with its chomp, and the same goes for Mabosstiff when it uses ice fang instead of using crunch or payback.

The playfight reminds Giacomo of a certain dark-type user who’s supposed to come tour in town. He heard that he had another artist he respects from Unova coming to make a special appearance, too. Now, how is he supposed to bring this up casually? You still have a busy schedule, right?

“Hey, so, um-”

Is he asking you on a date? No. Why’s he so nervous about this then? It should just be pure excitement, given that this artist is his favorite.

“If you’re not busy tonight, I heard that there’s a concert going on in Levincia later if you wanna go?”

“Of course, who’s going to play?”

“A dark-type user from Galar, He does lots of rock and alternative music. Heard he just recently retired from being a gym leader, so now he’s got time to tour.”

“Piers?! Man, the one time I didn’t check online to see if he was touring he comes right here. He’s my favorite artist, know just about all of his songs, too. And yeah, Marnie, his younger sibling, took over the gym for him.” It was pretty hard to contain your excitement. With how busy you’ve been lately you haven’t had time to even consider concerts or anything of the like, but you’re taking a day off, so who cares? If you aren’t going to worry about what others think anymore, then why not take it to the max?

“Hey, think I have time to get a haircut and get some new clothes? I’d rather fit in with the crowd more there.”

“For sure, let’s go to the hairdresser’s and get you a new fit. Actually, would you be down for getting your makeup done too?” He’s shocked that you know the artist, and so very glad that you enjoy his music. Better make this a memory worth remembering, so he’ll give it all he has to make this the best concert you’ve ever gone to.

“Depends, what were you thinking?”

“Hmm, black eyeliner and messy black eyeshadow?”

“Bet.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The next few hours were spent shopping for alternative style clothes. You’ve always loved punk and alternative fashion, but you haven’t been able to wear it comfortably while being champion. Layering accessories and wearing messy clothes is so fun, you’ve seriously gotta do this more often. Now that you’ve got your outfit on and your hair done, it’s time for the makeup. Your accent color is red, you wanted to match the hot pink that Piers has but it seems there aren’t lots of pink accessories with the style you were going for. One last look in the bathroom mirror and you walk out to see Giacomo on his swivel chair with all the makeup beside him.

“Damn, you look awesome. Ya’ ready for the makeup?”

You give him a nod and walk over to him, unsure of what to do next. He pats his lap, silently telling you to come sit. Once you’re all settled, he gets to work.

It doesn’t take long, he just has to messily put on some black eyeshadow, whatever thickness eyeliner you chose, and a bit of red under your eye to make it all pop- and match your accent color.

Okay sure, maybe he took a little longer since he couldn’t help but lock eyes a few times. And maybe steal a few glances at your lips. And when you asked if he had black lipstick? Even better, a good excuse for him to keep staring. And is that technically and indirect kiss? Never mind, forget about that. Maybe he took advantage of the situation and kept his hand on your chin and face whenever possible. But whatever, it’s all done now, and you look so “damn badass” right now.

You’re finally allowed to look in the mirror on the desk, and you’re elated with the outcome! The smile on your face says it all. It’s not one of those ‘kind, respectful’ smiles, it’s the one that shows all your teeth, and had you grinning from ear to ear. He’s surprisingly good at makeup, and your eyeliner is really even and sharp. You’re really about to go see your favorite artist with your favorite person. It doesn’t get much better than this, does it? You’re about to stand up to go make any last adjustments, but not before sneaking a quick peck on Giacomo’s cheek to thank him for his efforts. It takes him a minute to remember where he was and what he was doing, maybe even who he was.

“Hey, get back here! I gotta fix your lipstick now, idiot!”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The two of you finally make it to the concert, definitely not the first people there, but you’ve got a good view of the stage from where you are. The hype builds up as the crowd continues to grow, the time of the concert nearing.

“Get ready for a mosh pit with me and my party. Levincia, it’s time to rock!”

You grab Giacomo’s hand in anticipation, excited to finally be able to belt out the lyrics of your favorite songs at full volume.

“I’ve got a shotgun tongue”

“And tick like a timebomb,”

“All black everything.”

“I’ve got a switchblade wit”

“That cuts like a bitch,”

“And I think you two should meet.”

You take a deep breath in, and let it all out. Finally able to enjoy yourself and have fun for the first time in what feels like forever.

“I wanna BREAK FREE from my humanity,”

“I wanna release the animal in me.”

“B-B-B-Break free your curiosity,”

“You’re gonna give me what I need.”

Giacomo has never seen you like this before. He never expected this side of you. You just keep breaking that fake, perfect image of yours, and he’ll admit it’s pretty hot. The bright lights of the stage beaming on your face, and the giant smile written across your face contrasting the darkness of your clothing were seriously something to cherish. He’s only ever seen you this happy a few times. In, and out. Deep breaths. He’s ready for the next verse.

“I’ve got blood on my hands,”

“No guilt on my conscience.”

“The war in your path,”

“The sex in your violence,”

“ALL OF MY FLAWS, I WEAR THEM WITH HONOR!”

“A purple heartbreak for all we’ve suffered.”

“I am the enemy,”

“I am the enemy”

He could have sworn he heard your voice raise just for that one line.

Piers got the crowd to wave their hands, to jump, to yell, to do whatever he wanted the crowd to do and it was awesome.

“Give me liberty or death”

“Charge me more and pay me less,”

“I SAID GIVE ME LIBERTY OR DEATH!”

“Ahh f**k, it, just give me death.”

He chuckled a little at that line, it almost sounded like you made it personal when you sang it. The concert was going so well, he’s so glad you seemed to be enjoying it.

“ALL OF MY FLAWS I WEAR EM’ WITH HONOR!”

“A purple heartbreak for all we’ve suffered!”

“I am the enemy,”

“BRAND NEW NUMB!”

And that was the first song. Giacomo looked over to see you trying to catch your breath, him doing the same. What an experience, there sure isn’t anything that can match this, not even playing it as loud as you can at home can even compare.

The next song immediately had a catchy beat. It was pretty cool to immediately see everyone bounce almost in sync.

“I see a red door and I want it painted black,”

“No colors anymore, I want them to turn black.”

“I see the girls walk by, dressed in their summer clothes,”

“I have to turn my head until my darkness goes.”

“I see a line of cars, and they’re all painted black,”

“With flowers and my love both never to come back.”

The song gets even catchier, and Giacomo notices the way the chains on your belt jump while you bounce to the beat.

“I see people turn their heads and quickly look away.”

“Like a newborn baby, it just happens every day!”

You notice how he’s looking at you every so often and you smile at him, as well as offer a thumbs up to show that you’re doing good. He must be checking up on you, concerts can get overwhelming, after all. But you’re having the time of your life.

“Maybe then I’ll fade away and not have to face the facts,”

“It’s not easy facing up when your whole world is black!”

“No more will my green sea go turn a deeper blue,”

“I could not foresee this thing happening to you!”

“If I look hard enough into the setting sun,”

“My love will laugh with me, before the morning comes.”

“I wanna see it painted, painted, painted black!”

“Black as night, black as coal”

“I wanna see the sun blotted out from the sky.”

“I wanna see it painted, painted, Painted black!”

Lots of good tunes so far, you definitely remember blaring these songs from your headphones lots of times in the past.

The next song was very sudden, but as soon as you heard the first lyrics, you knew it was about to get hella loud.

“Suffocate, everything,”

“They complicate, everything,”

“They steal your fate, every day,”

“But you can’t believe it!”

“Take yourself far away from nothingness,”

“A million miles from emptiness.”

You loved to see the way Piers rocked out to all of his music, it was definitely his passion. He’s a lot more enthusiastic when he plays live than when he battles.

“Remember the days, of the innocence,”

“Before it came in waves?”

“Remember the trust? It was blown away,”

“Into oblivion.”

“Remember love,”

You glance over at Giacomo for a quick second, seeing him scream the lyrics at the top of his lungs. He sure does have a nice voice, you’d love to hear him make at least one cover. But the right song hasn’t come on yet.

“Remember hate, remember everything,”

“They said just to break you again.”

“Remember all, all of your enemies,”

“Forever and ever, they,”

“Suffocate everything, they”

“Complicate everything, they”

“Steal your fate, every day”

“But you can’t believe it!”

A taller person ends up in front of the two of you, and Giacomo can tell you’re struggling to see Piers. He motions for you to get on his back after bending down for you. You can’t hear him over the music, but can tell what he’s getting at. Now that you can both see, it’s back to enjoying the music.

“Forget the decay, and the endlessness,”

“Of all of our mistakes,”

“Forget all the blame, and the apathy,”

“And throw it all away.”

“FORGET THE PAIN,”

“FORGET THE HATE,”

“FORGET ALL YOUR ENEMIES,”

“THEY WILL NEVER BREAK YOU AGAIN!”

He could feel how powerful your voice was thanks to how close you were to him, he could feel your belly and chest move every time you took a deep breath.

“LEAVE IT ALL BEHIND YOU!”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It had now been nearly an hour since Piers had shown up on stage.

“You all better enjoy this, I don’t do encores, and we have a guest artist joining us for our last song.”

The crowd went crazy when a short girl with white hair walked onto the stage.

“Yeah! Ya’ll better get hyped for this last one!” Roxie's voice came over the speakers.

You looked at Giacomo in disbelief, he never mentioned having Roxie up on stage tonight! He just shrugged and smiled at you.

Your heads immediately turned to the stage as soon as you heard the first note. Another note along with the first lyric, and you were singing the hardest you have all night, hoping and praying to Arceus that Giacomo knew the lyrics. There was a good chance you’d lose your voice after this one, you’d definitely need to drink lots of water tomorrow.

“You’ll never take us alive!"

He looked over at you and started singing his part, almost like he was waiting for this moment the whole time. Not like he checked the setlist beforehand, or anything.

“We swore that death with do us part,”

“They’ll call our crimes a work of art!”

You started bouncing in place to the beat, so excited to be right here, right now, with him.

“You’ll never take us alive!”

“We’ll live like spoiled royalty, LOVERS AND PARTNERS,”

“PARTNERS IN CRIME!”

“Partners in crime~”

You grab his hand again and squeeze it tight, grounding yourself. This is one of your favorite songs, you had no idea he even knew this song existed.

“This, the tale of, reckless love, living a life of crime on the run,”

“I brush to a gun, to paint the states green, and red.”

“Everybody freeze!”

“Nobody move!”

“Put the money in the bag,”

“Or we will shoot!”

“Empty out the vault, and me and my doll will be on our way,”

“Our paper faces flood the streets,”

“And if the heat comes close enough, then we’ll play with fire, ‘cause!”

“You’ll never take us alive!”

“We swore that death will do us part,"

“They’ll call our crimes a work of art”

“You’ll never take us alive,”

“We’ll live like spoiled royalty, lover and partners,”

“Partners in crime!”

“Partners in crime~”

“Here we find our omnipotent outlaws, fall behind the grind tonight.”

“Left unaware that the lone store owner,”

“Won’t go down without a fight!”

“Where we gonna go?!”

“He’s got us pinned!”

“Baby I’m a little scared,”

“Now don’t you quit!”

“He sounded the alarm, I hear the sirens closing in!”

“Our paper faces flood the streets,”

“And if the heat come close enough, then we’re burning this place to the ground, ‘cause!”

“You’ll never take us alive!”

“We swore that death will do us part, they’ll call our crimes a work of art.”

“You’ll never take us alive,”

“We’ll live like spoiled royalty, lovers and partners,”

“Partners in crime!”

“Partners in crime~”

(The Placerville sheriff’s police department, come out with your hands up, we have the place surrounded. Put your weapons down, PUT YOUR WEAPONS DOWN! Ready men, aim, FIRE!)

The thrill and excitement coursing through yours’ and Giacomo’s veins were the only thing keeping you two from getting flustered over the lyrics. This is like a dream come true. Was this basically you two shouting your love for each other? Yeah, and you both were none the wiser.

“The skies are black, with lead-filled rain,”

“A morbid painting on display!”

“This is the night the young love died,”

“Buried at each other’s side.”

“You’ll never take us alive,”

“We swore that death will do us part,”

“So now we haunt you in the dark,”

“You never took us alive,”

“We live as ghosts among these streets,”

“Lovers and partners, partners in crime!”

"Partners in criiiiiime~"

“PARTNERS IN CRIME!”

With both of you completely out of breath, no longer able to hear anything but the crowd cheering, you jump tackle Giacomo for a hug. He spins you around and you can barely tell what he’s saying, only thanks to the way you saw his lips move could you tell what he was saying.

“That was epic!”

He knew that you couldn’t hear him, so he figured he’d chat with you more after the concert.

People slowly started getting out of the way, you and Giacomo were pushing through the crowd, attempting to get some merch. You ended up getting ahead of the crowd, and you bought shirts, keychains, bracelets, and pins for yourself and him, and got him a CD of Piers’ latest album. You even managed to get a quick picture with Piers and Roxie after and got him to sign the CD.

Only after all the commotion was over and you guys were back at his dorm, you on his bed and him on his chair, did he start to think more clearly.

“Hey, you spent a ton today, didn’t you? You shouldn’t have bought me all of that stuff at the concert, at least let me pay you back. I could have bought my own stuff you know.”

You bring your head up from where it was resting.

“You can’t even buy half a potion, shut up.” You snicker a bit at that, always taking any opportunity to make fun of Gia. “But seriously, you’re like, the best. Ever. I should be thanking you.”

You look at him and your smile turns sincere.

“You deserve the best, love.”

His cheeks go pink at the nickname, but he’s not too flustered for a comeback.

“You are the best, sweetheart.”

Songs used in order:

Brand new numb - Motionless in white

Paint it, black - The Rolling Stones

Leave It All behind - Cult To Follow

Partners in Crime - Set it Off (my favorite band!!🔷️⏳)

5h 20m

Jan.25-26.23

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barclaysangel · 1 month

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Guardian Doll (part 2)

Took me a while but I finally finished the second part of this story. I still have barely any idea on where it’s going so I don’t know if I’ll keep updating. But I still wrote something. I think I would like some help on where I can take the story, I wouldn’t mind that at all. But for now, please like or comment if y’all liked this fic please. The character, Cecilia, is based on me when I was younger sooooo she needs some extra love and care. The first part of the story is on my fic archive secondary blog.

Anyways, thank you and enjoy :)

Word count: 1.1K

Tags: @vi0lentg0d @streets-in-paradise (if you want to be tagged later on, let me know!)

The walk home was peaceful.

Cecilia kept humming Halsey songs under her breath, Tiff the doll safely secured to her hip almost like it was a baby, as she made it to her house. She had to adjust her hold on the doll to pull her keys out of her backpack, unlocked the door, and walked inside.

There goes her last bit of freedom.

Her house wasn’t the biggest but it was something. It was just her and her parents that lived there. Well, currently only her father was there, home from work while her mom was still at her job, sitting in front of the tv.

When her father heard the door open, he turned his head to look at her. “Hey, kid.”

“Hi daddy.” Cecilia said softly, walking into the living room to further greet him before her father’s eyes landed on the doll tucked under her arm.

“The fuck is that?”

“A doll I found by the cemetery,” she replied, smoothing back the blonde strands, “I don’t think she belonged to anyone. She was just left there for who knows how long.”

“I’m not surprised. The thing’s freaky.” Her father scoffed at it and then turned his attention back to the news on tv.

Cecilia frowned but went to her room. “Ignore him, muñeca bonita. You’re not freaky at all to me.” She told Tiff before placing her on top of her bed and dropped her backpack to the floor.

Just like the house, her room wasn’t all that interesting either, rather simple actually. There were no posters hung up because her father didn’t want nails in the walls and her room was rather messy. Half of it was because she was lazy and knew where everything was in the mess, and the other half was a silent way to rebel against her mother wanting her to be more “feminine”.

Geez. Maybe she really did have issues.

But that was something Cecilia would worry about another day. Right now, she adjusted the leather jacket on the doll and then sat on her bed, taking her hairbrush and began brushing through Tiff’s blonde hair while seating the doll on her lap. She made sure to be careful with any tangles and knots, not wanting to cause any damage.

Ever since Cecilia was a kid, she would always play gently with her dolls. She never wanted to break them and would cry if she accidentally did. Overall, she did her very hardest to treat all of her toys and dolls like they were living people.

Of course, she knew now that they weren’t alive or anything. Yet, she supposed, old habits die hard.

“You know, I think you’re the most beautiful doll I’ve ever seen, Tiff.” Cecilia spoke, turning the doll around so it was facing her. “Who would leave you out on the cemetery all alone?” She asked out loud but knew she wouldn’t get an answer.

Instead, she placed the doll down beside her so she could pull out her folder from her backpack. “Want to watch me do my homework?” She placed her hands on Tiff’s head and gently moved it up and down to make it look like it was nodding, giggling. “Okay, you can watch then.”

So Cecilia spent the next couple hours doing homework, music playing on her phone since it was the only way to help keep her concentrated, alone. Well, not entirely. Tiff might have been a doll but she still liked having the extra company since Cecilia was often so lonely sometimes.

One of the many downsides to being an only child. She lost count of how many times she prayed for a younger sibling growing up before just completely losing faith.

Cecilia was solely focused on her homework and showing Tiff her work that she didn’t notice her mother coming home until she was in front of her doorway.

“What is that?” Was the first thing her mother said, an almost disturbed look on her face as she stared at the doll.

“Tiff,” Cecilia responded simply, “I found her and she was in great condition, no scratches or anything.”

“Aye, que fea…” Her mother said with an almost disturbed look on her face.

Cecilia got an almost offended look on her face by her mother’s statement. “No she’s not!” She insisted, pushing her homework off her lap and replacing it with Tiff. “Look at how green her eyes are. She’s so pretty!”

Her mother didn’t seem to believe Cecilia, still looking perturbed as she shook her head. “Whatever…” she grumbled before walking away.

Cecilia sighed loudly, wrapping her arms around Tiff and hugging her. “Well…you’re pretty to me,” she insisted and then turned the doll around to face her, “and badass too.” She giggled and poked the tip of her nose.

She stayed with her new doll for a while, doing homework until it was time for dinner. That’s when she finally left Tiff unattended, lying her down on her pillow. It had only been for half an hour, half an hour of uncomfortable and boring silence, until Cecilia was free to go back to her room and saw Tiff sitting at the edge of her bed.

Was that where she left her?

She was sure she did and just shrugged her shoulders, picking up the doll to take her to get ready for bed. Cecilia talked out loud when she was doing this, telling Tiff about her interests and her favorite or least favorite subjects at school. She was sure she was being annoying, blabbing while brushing her hair and then her teeth, but it was nice just talking to someone who wouldn’t tell her to shut up.

She really was used to being told to shut up for so long.

Cecilia got into bed and pulled Tiff with her, turning off the light and lying down beside the doll. She was quiet for a moment, turning on her side to face Tiff. “Hey, Tiff. Can I tell you something?”

The doll, of course, didn’t respond so she continued speaking. “I…don’t have any friends. They just don’t like being around me. They think I’m weird and a freak. Maybe I am. I’m just…really alone, I guess. No friends. No brother or sister. My parents always work and don’t have time for me. It’s just…me. I’m alone.”

Cecilia went quiet, processing her own words. She was completely and utterly alone.

Eventually she just smiled and shrugged her shoulders so casually. “Eh, whatever. Life sucks and then you die, I guess. But at least I’m not alone now. I’ve got you.” Cecilia smiled sweetly at Tiff and hugged her tightly.

She must sound so crazy, talking to a doll and acting like she’s real and can hear everything she’s saying.

Maybe she was going crazy.

Oh well.

Cecilia yawned and closed her eyes, keeping her arms around her new favorite doll. “Goodnight, Tiff…”

#luna talks #admin #chucky #chucky 2021 #bride of chucky #tiffany valentine #original character #oc #cecilia carter #chucky fic #guardian doll #chucky fanfic #tiffany the doll

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daniwib · 5 months

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Fic Writing Review 2023

Words and fics

• 281,412 words published to ao3

• approx. 150,000 more unpublished (unfinished WIP’s)

• 2 fandoms (911 & 911 Lonestar)

• Most recent drop: Night at the (Wax) Museum – an utterly cursed piece of work that is virtually unreadable. Seriously. I dare you to try. I wrote this for a guess-the-writer event and made it so unrecognisable as my own work that virtually no one read it at all. It’s a fun story and I hope that more people will read the grammatically correct version that I’ll be posting hopefully today.

• Longest fic in 2023: empty, broken, lonely, hoping at 44k (Buck and Christopher are presumed dead when Buck’s building burns down) This is one of my favourites this year.

Top 2023 fics by kudos

• empty, broken, lonely, hoping (Buck and Christopher are presumed dead when Buck’s building burns down). I really like this one and am quite proud of it. One of my favourites I’ve written this year.

• Losing Hope (Buck gets pregnant right before the lawsuit but loses the baby). Huh. This surprised me. I never thought I’d write mpreg or lawsuit fic OR that it would be one of my highest kudos’d fic this year. How bizarre!

Upcoming events and projects for 2024

Gah this is scary, I have so many.

Reluctant Werewolf crack – I really need to sit down and finish the last chapter of this. It’s about half done.

Coronation crack – likewise. I got blocked when RWRB was released and featured a polo scene very similar to what I was planning for Buddie in England and haven’t been able to get back to it since. I think I’ll scrap that chapter and just finish it off. I loathe having unfinished wip’s partly posted, it does my head in.

Big werewolf AU – featuring all my favourite tropes of kidnapped Buck, worried Eddie, Buck whump and Eddie whump too. I started it in January 2023. It’s fully plotted and maybe 2/3’s written at around 70k.

Navy Seal Buck – there’s something so fun about secretly bamf! Buck going all out to protect his firefam. He gets whumped during the course of, naturally. Again, started in January 2023, fully plotted and is maybe half done at about 50k-ish.

Angsty Buckley family drama set around the Madney wedding aka the one that will make you all weep. Fully plotted, partly begun.

Kidnapped TK – this one is so big and complex that I’m thinking of turning it into a novel some day. Fully plotted and partially written.

Eddie porn reviewer. Plotted only.

Buck sex worker. Plotted, partially written.

Carla romance novelist gets Buddie together. Plotted, partially written.

Plus the other 90+ ideas in my Ideas folder!

I’m unlikely to get much done before Christmas, too busy with family stuff and am recovering from having to have an emergency appendectomy while also having Influenza A this week. It’s been… rough.

Same for January as hubby and I are going on the first holiday alone together since having kids – Tasmania here we come! I am very glad my surgery didn’t ruin that.

Thank you for the tag @sherlockcrossing

No pressure tagging: @daughterofscotland @rogerzsteven @cal-daisies-and-briars @ronordmann and anyone else who wants to share!

Rules: Feel free to show whatever stats you have. Only want to show Ao3 stats? Rock on. Want to include some quantitative info instead of stats? Please do this. Want to change how yours is presented? Absolutely do that. Would rather eat glass than do this? Please don’t eat glass but don’t feel like you have to do this either.

#tag game #fanfic #my writing #Ao3 #Whump #Angst #911 #Buddie

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mysweetgirl2-love · 1 year

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Result of Tina's - Steve Harrington x Reader

(a/n): SO. Uhm. Hi, again. No, I didn't die, yes this did take forever to finish, everything's fine. Life just got a little busy again LMAO.

But! I'm back, hopefully going to finish the rest of these in a timely manner, but I also have been challenged to participate in nanowrimo- and I have a whole fic idea planned already that I know is going to be "novel-length"... so, if you read my Hopper one shot and like how I wrote there, then maybe this might be exciting for you :)

If not, and you just want more of these... "quick"... one shots, I'm happy to provide!

Without further ado, here's Steve getting you out of a considerably tough situation ;-; enjoy-

Content Warnings: you're drunk, and being Billy's a creep in the beginning, but nothing happens? so do with that as you will-

Word Count: 3.6k

Prompt #11: Drunk

✦✧✦✧

The room hasn’t stopped spinning for awhile, ever since that last drink you knew you shouldn’t have topped off. But, the basketball guys hadn’t stopped with the antagonizing comments ever since the party started and you never were going to back down to any challenge they would’ve presented to you.

So, when the all-hailed Billy Hargrove claimed that Tina would’ve wasted alcohol on you because you wouldn’t finish your drink, you let his provoking get the best of you. Definitely now facing the consequences of your stubborn actions.

Everything was spinning, nauseating in both sight around sound, making the entire experience just that more awful. You also were fighting the urge to fight the nagging man beside you, infuriated he could even begin to feel entitled in spending time with you after pressuring you into drinking that excessive amount of alcohol in the first place.

“Billy, piss off…”

“Hey, Doll, I’m only here to help. You’re not doing too hot,” his bare arm wrapped securely around your waist, chills ran up your spine.

“No, I… I’ll be fine,” your hands pressing into the side of his open vest, sloppily pushing him away. His body was stagnant before you, it was truly no use. “Go… go enjoy the party.”

“What, when I can be spending time with you?” His grip tightened, you revoltingly groaned, “Not a chance…”

“God…” you gasped, like him being this close was suffocating. Arguably, it might’ve been, you almost wished the air would be squeezed from your lungs, and would cause you to faint. Unfortunately, even drunk you were too painfully aware of Billy, and the half-lidded gaze he was directing at you. “Seriously, Hargrove…”

Two days in, and he was already creating an undeniable reputation for himself. An asshole flirt jock, who loved drinking. Nothing new, but never would you think one would be so drawn to you. Not the right jock in Hawkins, at least.

“Hah, I am being serious..” he hushed, breathy and suggestive—your skin crawled at every advance he continued to make. “C’mon, I heard Tina’s parents mattress is a water bed. How fun would that be?”

“Gross!” As though a higher power willed you into sobriety, you finally shove yourself free of the tight arms against your waist and stagger back from the other’s body. “Holy shit, you’re disgusting.”

Intoxication was already beginning to fight back against your consciousness, and you didn’t waste any time in tripping away from Billy. Arguably desperate to escape any further advances he was bound to try pulling on you when everything about reality already felt so muddled for you as it was.

Breaking out from the shadows of the hallway, you tumbled back into the crowd of students who crowded the main rooms, disappearing amongst the noise and costumes—in search of help? You weren’t sure, you just knew you had to get away. Far, far away, out of the danger that was that disgusting Californian and his stupid ass constantly wearing jeans.

“Yo, wait up!” You hear the grading voice of Tommy calling after you, and you just keep pushing. Refusing to let yourself be helplessly guided back to Billy.

Not looking, regardless of the fact that you couldn’t see to begin with, there was suddenly a forceful resistance blocked your escape. Floundering, you brought forward readied fists to fight against the person, already seeing their shit-eating grin in your mind’s eye.

“Fucking hell, can’t you just take no for a fucking answer?! I’m not a fucking object—“

“Woah, woah, woah,” suddenly hands grabbed at your arms, and there was a hasty tone speaking your name in getting you to calm down, “what’re you talking about? I haven’t even seen you tonight.”

Frozen in place, you peer up to find the person before you and are surprised to not find the rat-tailed mess of a mullet above you. Instead, you found a large, brown head of hair above a forehead and darker eyes staring on in worry as the man found himself panicked to find you in your current state.

“St—Steve?”

“Harrington.”

Stiffly, or as stiff as you could be in such a woozy state, you slowly turned to face where the other, all-too familiar voice was coming from. Billy stood before his lackeys with an almost threatening stance angled in your’s and Steve’s shared direction. He made sure to eye you up and down before actually meeting Steve’s gaze, licking at the front of his teeth—and it made the action feel like a threat.

“Where’s Nancy? Shouldn’t you be with her right now?” He asked suddenly, your heart seizing at the memory of seeing the two arrive together. Billy had a good point, where WAS Nance?

Turning over your shoulder, you looked to see what Steve had to say and almost jumped when the obvious glare was narrowed in Billy’s direction. It wasn’t hard to discern what was going on here, you figured, and Steve was already getting to the bottom of it with just these simple questions.

“Why should I tell you?” He countered, and you were relieved that it sounded like Steve wasn’t planning on trying to prove anything to the blonde, “You gotta problem with us being apart?”

“No. Not that.” He nodded in the direction of your self close to Harrington, “I do have a problem with you staking claim to my date.”

What were you all, primal animals? You grimaced at the suggestive tone Billy presented in calling you ‘his date’, which was also the farthest thing from the truth. Neither of you showed up to the party together, you had barely known the guy at the start of the night.

“He—He’s drunk, Steve—“ you felt almost hysterical in wanting to explain yourself to the man above you, the one who felt like your one shot at being saved from this situation entirely.

It didn’t matter, Steve’s scowl remained on Billy and he was quickly coming to terms with what was happening here. Instinctively, Steve suddenly wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you behind him—out of Billy’s direct line of sight and replacing you before his teammates.

“See… I don’t know how much I like what’s going on here.” He began, taking a step forward to the now throughly irritated California boy. Regarding you by name, he tilted his head on its side, a menacing stance against the antagonizing group he too had been a target of. “But, the way you refer to them, on top of how they’re seemingly desperate to get away? Doesn’t… really give me the sort of ‘date’ vibe.”

Billy’s mockery had toned down at this point, and he didn’t see the outcome going his way. Maybe it was because he was too drunk to hold a fair fight, or that he knew there were other’s at this party who would desperately throw themselves at him; whatever it may be, he seemed disinterested now.

“Whatever, ‘King Steve’…” he suddenly stepped forward, and you felt your heart drop to your stomach as he loomed towards Harrington. All he did was knock shoulders with the man, going back to be a head amongst the crowd with one last comment, “You’re definitely not getting anything from a prude like them, anyway.”

It didn’t necessarily sting to hear Billy refer to you, honestly it was more so a relief that he wasn’t hooked on getting you alone after being challenged by Steve. He didn’t seem like the type to let someone confront him and get away with it. Either way, with Billy’s pushing past Steve, the rest of the boy’s fell in line, all moving to follow Billy back on his adventures of fucking around on Halloween night.

Relieved, you slouched forward and woozily leaned into the back of Steve’s shoulder. It felt like you could cry, you were so alleviated that the worst seemed to be over. Then, your brain started to fumble and your ears began to ring with the music in your background—and maybe the worst was yet to come.

“Shit…” you groaned, feeling the body against you turn and readjust you to lean into his chest. It was way more comfortable than his shoulder blade, and your weight was threatening to give out with how nice it felt to be supported.

“Jesus christ…” you could hear the frown in Steve’s voice, “how did you let this happen?”

“Mmm—Billy… he… he dared me-“

“You idiot.” Steve interrupted, not needing anymore information to know how he wanted to handle this situation, and he began readjusting your slackened stance to place your limp arm over his own shoulder and hold you up in that fashion.

Loose-lipped and losing yourself, you’re only grumbling illogical speech while Steve begins stumbling with you in his arms towards Tina’s front door. Determined to get you out of this environment, and at least to fresh air. Nothing you would ever object to, in a moment like this.

Gulping in the cold air that was clean of human sweat, free of cheap perfumes that seemed to coat every other body in that home, and pure of the burning scents of alcohol mixed with weed. Fresh and mitigating of all the pollution a high school party brought to an atmosphere.

Being freed from the suffocating walls of Tina’s Halloween Bash woke your sobriety. And you almost leaped from Steve’s side, his steadying hand keeping you from getting very far.

“Easy, easy…” he hushed, a endearing annoyance coupled in his tone, “I hate to say it, but I really thought you were better than this.”

“Don’t lie.” You gasped, steadying yourself in the night’s atmosphere, acclimating to the drastic change in surroundings. “You don’t hate saying it.”

Steve pathetically snorted, finding your dark humor to make your circumstances less drastic. He felt a pang of guilt, you being taken advantage of shouldn’t be something to laugh about just minutes after.

“Do you know what you drank?”

“That… stupid, fucking punch bowl.” You force out, clearly trying to recall how the chain of events fell into place, “He gave me a whole cup of it. You know… getting his guy’s to chant “chug”.”

Steve grimaced at the thought, and wondered if he remembered that happening earlier in the night or was he really just that caught up in the web of Nancy he felt so trapped in. The thought of Nancy was another pang in his heart, and he leveled to focus back on helping you instead.

“Here, let me take you home.” He suggested, beginning to once again position himself under your arms in preparing to move you to his car.

“Agh, shit… but I drove here—“

“And you’re sure as hell not driving back. That’s your fault for drinking,” he criticized, “hopefully you learn to let things go because of this.”

You let out an exasperated moan, rejecting his words as you tried to keep your mind from drowning back in its incoherent, intoxicated state. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I know my consequences have actions!”

“…Your actions have consequences—“

“That too.” You growl, pinching along the bridge of your nose as you reflected on thinking a little more before you spoke. Regardless of your level of intoxication.

You felt yourself being leaned more into Steve suddenly, your bleary eyes scanning over the object in front of you and recognizing you were standing before his car. Harrington using one hand to fumble in the depths of his pocket to look for his keys.

Suddenly all-consuming guilt washes over you, and pushes weight on your shoulders in wanting to hold you down—not wanting to become a potential burden to your fellow classmate.

“Steve…” you feel his movements pause, you pacing yourself to find words that felt right, “Steve, you don’t… you really don’t have to do this—“

“What? Get you home safe?” He countered, the opposition clear, “Yeah, and you never had to prove anything to that dickwad. Yet here we are.”

He threw his passenger’s door open and immediately began folding you to fit past the door frame, inevitably getting you into the car’s seat. Your head fell back without any more protesting at Steve, finally giving in to the fact you maybe needed some ‘taking care’ of tonight.

The sound of your seatbelt clicked beside you, and Steve pulled on the strap to make sure you were securely fastened into the car. Safe, finally.

No words were said until he closed your door and entered from the other side of the car, all the noises were still proving to be a discombobulation for your senses—ears arguably ringing when Steve slammed his door close. You had to bring a finger up and apply pressure momentarily, eventually settling limply back in the seat.

“Hey,” Steve snapped his fingers near the same ear, your body jumping conscious at the sharp noise, “can’t go out on me yet. What’s your address.”

Bitterly, you give him the information requested as he turns the car’s ignition over and let’s the machinery hum to life. “…A please wouldn’t be unappreciated.”

“Let’s remember who’s helping who out here,” Steve retorted, you sending him a deep scowl that immediately settled when catching the smirk peeking up at the corner of his mouth. Biting at the inside of your cheek, you gave a disbelieving huff before rearing your head in the opposite direction.

The slight rumble from the car’s engine, along with the darkened familiar forest you knew to surround Hawkins, honestly made the silent drive a surreal experience. You and Steve hadn’t ever been good friends, not close at the very least. You knew him to be almost like Billy was tonight, exploitive of the girl’s at school just to get the “quickie” in whenever feeling the urge to.

You weren’t aware what had happened behind closed doors, but the Steve you knew a year ago had clearly become someone else. Here he was, going out of his way to drive you home, leaving Nancy at the party no—

“Nancy!”

Lurching forward, Steve’s foot slams on the break in alarm at your sudden announcement out of your comatose state, breathing heavily as he wide-eyed the road before you. No signs of another car in sight.

“The fuck are you doing?!” Steve is suddenly yelling, and your eyes fall to your lap at trying to jog your memory from what you were just remembering.

“Nancy.” You repeat steadily, squeezing your eyes shut as you try to muster out the question you felt necessary to be asked, “She—She’s… she’s still at the party—“

“Don’t worry about her.” Steve shot down, your attention turning back towards him and seeing the evident hurt detailing his features. “She’s got a ride.”

“Who—What?” You shook your head, “She came with you, though?”

“Jonathon showed up.”

That was a name and face you were familiar with, being the two kids decently good at photography to often be found with a camera around town—the minor difference being you didn’t know what Jonathon did with his skill, meanwhile you helped photograph for the school’s paper.

From when you both had spoken together, usually while waiting for photo’s to process in the red room, you knew Jonathon grew suddenly extremely fond of Nancy around November last year. Knowing she had also been seen around with Harrington, you thought it was a pipe dream for someone like him, but didn’t give him your harsh take on reality. His brother had just recently been found at that point, and you knew his whole family didn’t need anymore negativity after losing him in the first place.

On a similar note, who were you to judge who Jonathon pined after or not? You weren’t in a much better boat with obsessing over Nancy’s other half. Obsess is maybe too strong of a word, but since first laying eyes on ‘the hair’ Harrington himself—you couldn’t deny yourself you found him attractive. And he was in love with Nancy, and there was nothing you could do about it.

Nothing changed, clearly: Jonathon was still as single as he was a year ago, and though Nancy and Steve took maybe a month’s time not being seen at school together, around the holiday’s they too went back to normal. Maybe Nancy was found talking to Jonathon more often than she had before William Byer’s was declared missing, but there wasn’t much to think besides friendship.

Not when her and Steve would be subjecting the rest of the student body to their canoodling in the hallways. Gross.

What could’ve changed in the past four, or so, hours that resulted in Steve willingly leaving Nancy’s side. Shouldn’t she be in his passenger seat instead? …What were you doing here?

Never in your life would you have considered this outcome a possibility. Riding drunk in Steve’s passenger, him insisting on getting you home safe. The only times you both had interacted before was when you’d fight back against him and his old friends, emphasis on old, who liked teasing Jonathon. They never seemed to target you as hard, but you knew Carol had done something at one or another. Most of the student body beginning to ignore you like the plague and all, rumors of herpes? Old, run of the mill, shitty high school behavioral stuff.

Again, something had changed, and Steve no longer went after Jonathon like before. Arguably, they became… better behaved acquaintances. But, it took the edge of your interactions with Steve entirely, and it just so happened you shared a math class in your shared senior semester. It wasn’t uncommon you found yourself helping him in class, you thought that was maybe the most progress you were ever going to make with the King himself.

Wrong again—the proof displaying itself before you in the fact that Steve was lecturing you on the dangers of drinking, and seeing it through you made it home.

“…You let her go with Jonathon?” Okay. Admittedly, that was the wrong way of asking why Steve was taking your pathetically intoxicated self home instead of Little Miss Wheeler’s. But, it got your curiosity across.

Steve shifted uncomfortably in the driver’s seat, his foot easing back onto the ignition as the car resumed its steady pace down the dimly lit road. “Yeah.”

Your lips pressed together in a fine line against your face, hearing the tone of voice and not finding it one to truly befit Harrington. He wasn’t a person you would consider to be seriously hurt by these kind of things, or really you just didn’t know the guy. You didn’t know if it was from guilt or the alcohol jostling your consciousness, but you were overcome with shame and gave an exaggerated sigh.

“Well, then… thank you for going out of your way to do this for me…”

You closed your eyes and steadied against the headrest of your carseat, reaching your hands forward and pressing them gently into the dashboard in front of you. There was no expectation for Steve to respond in that moment, and you were content in the silence that once again befell the car’s interior. Never having turned on the radio, it was nice to hear the car smoothly driving in the direction of your home.

“…It’s really no problem.” Steve gently spoke up, you tensing in response as you held baited breath in what more he could say. “After all the help you give me in calculus? I think it’s the least I can do.”

“Hah.” You pathetically scoffed and turned in on yourself, “Please. It’s not like I know what the hell I’m doing in that class, anyway.”

“Trying to tell me you’ve been promoting my failure from the beginning?” Steve asked, a hint of laughter behind the question.

“I mean, I’m confident I can understand the concepts better than you. So, it’s more like slightly above failure.”

You felt a light nudge at the back of your arm, giggling slowly to yourself at the pressure.

“Keep your hands on the wheel, one handed is not cool. It’s not cool to be dangerous.”

“You tell the D.D. as you, yourself, can’t walk a straight line.” You hear Steve’s blinker click at a turn, the car eventually shifting in a direction that you couldn’t quite define with your eyes closed.

“Touché,” you grumble, snuggling back into the cushion of the seat, “that doesn’t change my thanks though.”

“Well, your thanks is appreciated.” Steve reassured, “Happy to help.”

It made you smile at how sincere his tone sounded, you glad he was ‘happy to help’. Not knowing where you might’ve ended up if he didn’t. Trying to push the memory of Billy’s over exertion out of your thoughts, you settle more into the chair with a light frown. Steve must’ve sensed that you were drowsily recollecting something, so he reached a hand over again and gave your forearm a reassuring squeeze.

Not entirely expecting the point of contact to be made, you lightly flinched in surprise—but made no move to brush him off. You preferred him holding onto you, it soothed you a lot more than you wanted to admit; and so it went with a silent appreciation.

“I thought I said two hands…”

“Hah, go to sleep.” Steve laughed quietly, you feeling the vehicle resume its movements with his hand still delicately remaining at your wrist. Unwavering.

It was sending you the message that this wasn’t the last time you two would be caught together in this kind of situation. Where one of you may need help, and the other would be there to BE that help. A guiding hand to make sure neither of you didn’t spiral into oblivion.

Not letting yourself get too carried away in that thought, and also just wanting to enjoy the company while it was here, your brain subsided into whispers of thoughts. Drifting consciousness as the car easily glided down whatever the hell street you had made it to by now. No stress, no worry, anxiety subdued… you enjoyed it. Your first car ride with Steve ‘the hair’, King of Hawkins High, Harrington.

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stupid-and-cute-are-enough · 8 months

Text

cough. here's a little super short fic i wrote bc i make those too. be sure to check out the silly extra details i added in the tags!

@get-rammed

Monty lets out a heavy sigh, sitting on the much too small couch in his room, his handler close by his side, messing around with wires in the open compartment on his arm. Something went wrong with his claws again, and management is convinced that it’s the programming or the wiring that’s the problem, sicking his handler on the problem again and again. Monty doesn’t think it’s either of those things.

He huffs again and drops his head onto his free hand, boredom clawing at his... shell. His handler bumps with a small clank.

“Sit still, you big baby. I’ll be done in a minute.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’ve never been one to sit still, sweets.”

“Yeah, well, you’re gonna today.”

He rolls his eyes again, resisting the urge to let out another huff. He knows fusing over this is only gonna make it take longer. That and… he can see the bags under his handler’s eyes. It’s late. Far later than any other employee stays, except those working the graveyard shift. It seems like even the other animatronic handlers have gone home for the day. He can tell that they’re tired, but they never bring it up to him. They probably don’t want to worry him, all things considered, but that just makes Monty even more anxious. They look half asleep already, so Monty decides to occupy them with the most meaningless conversation he can muster.

“Hey, so, like…” Monty trails off, rolling his free hand at the wrist. “I barely saw any, uh, human staff around today, even though it was super fuckin’ busy. Why’s that?”

His handler stops, blinking for a second. “Oh, it’s, uh, Labor Day. It’s like a national holiday about unions or something, and people usually get the day off.”

Monty raises a brow. “Why didn’t you get the day off?”

They snort. “You don’t get the day off, so I don’t get the day off.”

Monty hums. “... That’s pretty shitty for us then, huh?”

They laugh, patting his arm. “Yeah. It is. Hey, I just finished up re-wiring everything. Give me a test and see if everything works right?”

Monty obliges, clenching his fists and spinning them around at the wrist. He mimics plenty of movements he makes while playing on stage, and nothing stutters, nothing stalls, or makes any weird noises. His internal diagnostics show no issues, either. All seems well, so he leans back and gives a smug, shit-eating smile. One that’s familiar.

“All’s workin’,” he replies, keeping up his smile when he sees the weight lifted off his handler by the news. They don’t like being comforted. Not directly, anyway.

“Great,” they sigh, slouching into a more relaxed position. They close up the compartment on Monty’s arm, giving it one last, solid pat.

“You good to recharge and everything?” They ask, packing up their small tool bag and tossing it in some random corner of the room. They barely put it away anymore, but management hasn’t caught on yet. Or maybe his handler just doesn’t care that they’re supposed to put it away. Either is possible. “Do you want me to lay with you?”

Monty thinks as they bustle around the room, turning down the lights and doing a cursory glance at his recharge station. He does want them to lay with him. He always does. But Monty sees the exhaustion in their shoulders and feels some kind of misplaced guilt. They’re this tired because he’s a Glamrock now, not just a side attraction. He became more of a handful. He broke more. He needed them more at all hours of the day. They’re his handler. He’s tired, and he’s not even human.

“Naw,” he says, tilting his head and smiling. “I’m good.”

“Alrighty then,” his handler puts on a brave smile, grabbing their oversized Monty jacket and slinging it over their shoulders. Before, Monty would’ve teased them about being such a simp, how they don’t need his merch because they already wear his face all day, or how they could literally just zip up their uniform, but he lets it go for tonight.

“Se you tomorrow, big guy.”

Monty doesn’t comment on how today is already tomorrow.

“Goodnight, cher.”

His handler leaves, muttering about how they’ll probably need to catch a bus because they “don’t think they can drive like this,” and Monty wants nothing more than to invite them back. To give them the whole couch and let them sleep. But for all the crazy hours Fazbear Entertainment expects of them, they’re not allowed to stay overnight. No one is allowed to stay overnight, except for the night shift workers, who all had to sign crazy amounts of paperwork, and they both know it.

So, instead, Monty watches them make their way to the entrance. He watches as they struggle with their ID until the heavy metal doors rise, and they can slip out the door. He strains his eyes to see them disappear into the dark until the metal doors obscure them from view and hopes for all it’s worth that tomorrow will be easier.

___

please ignore any silly typos im p sure i got them all but its super late. i wanna post this tho so im posting it. i may or may not repost this later but like. as a better version lmao ram pls tell me if monty is OOC i was punching AIR trying to write this guy 😭 i thought i knew him well and then BAM no the fuck i dont

#i was gonna write smthn for the were-beings au first but i constantly get hung up on the concept of monty/anon having a bittersweet period #when theyre still adjusting to monty becoming a glamrock and neither of them are having a good time but dont wanna worry the other #^as the virus begin to take hold it'll that it’s not his fault they're in this situation #and Anon doesn't have the right to make him feel guilty (\they\ don't make Monty feel guilty but its best if he grows to hate them)#Fazbear Entertainment does not allow talk of unions on the premises #Monty huffs a lot bc that’s how real gators complain #i visit a rescue in my state every year and there’s always one guy that’s got a lot to say. usually morris #Anon broke Monty’s swearing filter but made him promise to never swear while he's working or else they’ll BOTH be in big trouble #i also thought way too hard about how the handlers get in/out of the building after it locks down but tbh they probably use an alt entrance #i love making up fake lore i find it fufilling #fnaf #fnaf security breach #montgomery gator #self insert #security breach monty #security breach #i rlly only ever post at the most god awful times huh #I POST BC I WANT TO NOT TO PLEASE TUMBLR #my post

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layla4567 · 5 months

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First of all. Loved your Mr. Tophat fic. I don’t know what’s wrong with me but with how you wrote him having a little tantrum and throwing his tophat on the ground, I could visualize that perfectly in my head. It made me laugh. Kudos to you. With that being said, whenever you get the chance, can I get Mr. Tophat x fem!reader who visits the carnival of doom and they’re a student journalist? They have a camera and walk around taking photos of the carnival to write of news review about it. Reader decided on making a story about the carnival since they’ve always loved the carnival and circus aesthetic and overall environment. Obviously mr. Tophat takes notice of this and as much as he is honored they love his carnival enough to make a news story about it, no one is supposed to remember it. So what is he to do about this situation? I’ll leave that up to you! Thank you again! And I’ll understand if you can’t write this! Sorry for rambling, I just love this character sm.

First of all: Your message made my day! You don't know how gratifying it is for me to know that you imagined the scene just as I thought of it, thank you very much. Second: Sorry for taking so long to answer this request 😭, your idea was very good and I loved it but when I wanted to write the story I had a little creative block lol (well besides I was writing other things) that said I hope you enjoy this story :)

ARE YOU LOST?

Mr. Tophat x Female reader

Summary: Your work as a journalist is not all joy and honey, when you come across the Carnival of Doom you will regret having visited it… or not?

Warnings: not proofread, mention of dagger wound, a tiny bit of blood mention nothing too serious, the reader is of legal age, maybe a dark/angst ending(?

WC: 3k

As a journalism student you are almost always outside your house taking photographs or taking notes about everything you see. In your room there were newspaper clippings that you took as inspiration and some of your own work that you had proudly framed on the wall. But your passion was not only journalism and getting juicy news but also carnivals and circuses. All that themes had always caught your attention since you were a child, you always thought that circuses, no matter how happy and fun they were on the outside, on the inside seemed mysterious and gloomy, hiding dark secrets and that fascinated you. That's why you didn't hesitate to visit the Carnival of Doom when you saw a poster days ago hanging on a street pole, it looked interesting and you hoped it wouldn't disappoint you.

Now you were lying on your bed with one leg bent over the other, sighing and holding up in front of your eyes the circus pamphlet that you had torn from the pole. You weren't sure whether to go or not, you had heard wonders about the circus (at least wonders for you) that it was mysterious and intriguing and was unlike any other. And where there is a mystery you always have to keep your nose in the matter, but… what if everything was a failure? It wouldn't be the first time you've been disappointed by news that seems incredible and then isn't even half of what they said. That's what you were doing when your mother knocked on the door before entering.

"Come in"

Your mother brought a tray with a sandwich and a glass of orange juice.

"Hi honey, sorry, I thought you were studying, I didn't want to interrupt you."

"Don't worry mum, I was taking a little break"

You left the bed and reached out to grab the tray that your mother lovingly handed you.

"It's ok love, don't stress too much and if you need anything else call me, alright?"

She caressed your cheek and you nodded, smiling. After she left your room, you sat at your desk and ate a little despite not being that hungry. Your head couldn't stop thinking about that damn circus. Ready to finish that once and for all, you grabbed your bag and put everything you needed: A notepad, your camera that you had bought with your savings and a small recorder just in case. You left your room and went down to the kitchen where your mother was still cooking, it seemed like she never got tired but that was her love language: making food.

She turned around when she felt your steps down the stairs.

"Oh Y/n, did you finish eating so quickly, daughter? Do you want something else, my love?"

You smiled sweetly "No mom, I'm fine. I just wanted to say that I'm going out for a while to photograph something and get some good news."

Your mother shook her head smiling as she looked back at the boiling pot on the stove. "Fine but please don't come back late, okay?"

You ran to put your arms around his shoulders and give him a soft kiss on his cheek. "I promise. You're the best, love ya!"

With your backpack on your shoulder you headed towards the famous circus. The sun fell over the horizon and dyed the sky soft lilacs and blues while the clouds contrasted in warmer colors such as oranges, pinks and yellows. When you arrived you noticed something different in the place, as if a cloudy and heavy atmosphere had settled in the air, but that wouldn't stop you, you were a girl who was difficult to scare. The circus was surrounded by all kinds of people: Contortionist women arching their backs and putting their heads between their legs while they couldn't stop staring at you, sword swallowers or men spitting fire like dragons. Although everything seemed threatening, you simply smiled sideways and took several photos. The closer you got to the entrance you saw clowns with sad makeup and ridiculous big shoes.

"Oh look at that"

You took a photo again and the clown seemed to frown, there was another one with a big made-up smile, you pointed the lens at his face and zoomed in but when you were going to take the photo you noticed something strange. Despite the cheerful makeup you could see deep anguish in his eyes, behind that false smile the clown seemed to ask for help with his pupils. Suddenly a tear seemed to roll down her cheek. You frowned and lowered the camera.

"Okay that was weird.."

You decided to spend that awkward moment and entered the tent where excited and anxious people were waiting for you sitting in the seats. In the center there was an empty round beach. You sat near the front with your camera ready, hoping to photograph the great presenter and hoping that they wouldn't take your camera away. They said that the ringleader was a fascinating man. Suddenly the lights went out and only two turned on pointing towards the center, the people's voices became a murmur until silence reigned. A tall figure wearing a black top hat slowly approached the platform from the darkness. You couldn't see almost anything but you heard a noise like something hitting the wood, when you realized it the distinguished man was already in the center with a cane in his hands. He carried it forward by his legs and stood tall, he was wearing a blood red jacket, black gloves and white pants with black stripes, it reminded you a little of Bettlejuice.

His hat was so big that it covered much of his features except his smile. A sinister smile with its corners stretched up to the ears. Suddenly he raised his head and you saw his eyes, green and just as hypnotic as his smile, everyone said that the circus presenter was mesmerazing but they had never said that he was so... attractive.

He cleared his throat and with a solemn gesture said "Ladies and gentlemen, human beings and creatures from the other side, I am your humble host Mr. Tophat and today I will be your guide that will take you to a totally new experience."

Mr. Tophat looked at the entire audience, but when you gave a small giggle upon hearing his stage name, he shifted his gaze until he met your eyes, and pierced them as if he wanted to enter your soul.

"I hope you like all of this and remember no matter how weird things get, it's all part of the show."

He said winking without taking his eyes off you, he bowed slightly and smiled again with that wide and macabre smile. The lights went out and when they came back on Mr. Tphat had disappeared from the platform. Everyone applauded but you felt a chill on the back of your neck, it was the first time you felt uncomfortable in a circus, you had always loved it when you were a child but you had to admit that this one truly was unique and not in a positive way. You shook your head remembering why you were there and prepared your camera, taking out the flash so as not to alert anyone. The first presentation was a man throwing knives at a target. At first it was quite boring, the target wasn't that far away and the man didn't even have his eyes closed. As if they had read your mind, the man took out a blindfold and covered his eyes, ok this was getting interesting. He aimed perfectly and hit all the knives. Suddenly Mr. Tophat appeared and asked for a volunteer to please come on stage. A 12-year-old girl raised her hand and walked up to the stage. The swordsman accompanied her to the target and you saw that they tied her wrists and ankles with a strap. You frowned and tilted your head, the entire audience seemed equally confused so the ringleader raised a hand to calm the atmosphere.

"Please don't be scared, everything is under control"

Mr. Tophat nodded to the man for permission and then began throwing the knives at the target. Everyone held their breath expecting the worst, but luckily no knife hurt the girl even though they passed close to her body. The audience applauded in relief while the presenter smiled satisfied. You raised the camera to your eyes and took a couple of photos without realizing that Mr. Tophat noticed.

"See? I told you so. But now how about we up the ante?"

People didn't understand what that meant but it couldn't be anything good. The ringleader grabbed the blindfold and covered the man's eyes. The audience felt their blood freeze and not even the flying of a fly could be heard, even the girl seemed to tremble with fear. The man stood tall and threw the first knife that hit the target over the little girl's head. The audience gasped and the girl screamed in fear while the presenter watched everything in amusement. The next knives stabbed near his arm, his stomach, and his inner thighs in that order while Mr. Tophat uttered enthusiastic, Machiavellian laughter. A dagger had grazed the girl's skin a little, causing her to bleed slightly, but despite that the girl was unharmed. The audience was horrified and seemed glued to their seats, unable to move or blink. This was definitely something new for you.

The following acts were not as disturbing as the previous one but they were still strange. You took as many photos as you could until you noticed that Mmr. Tophat looked at you suspiciously. At the end of the performance Mr. Tophat bowed, taking off his hat and saying goodbye laughing. After that strange performance, people didn't know whether to applaud or run. Without much applause, the people slowly left the tent in silence as if they were leaving a funeral. You sat there a little longer trying to process what had just happened. Was it all real or a vile trick? Mr. Tophat had said it was all part of the shor but… was it really all planned? You didn't even want to imagine what would have happened to that poor girl if the man missed with the daggers.

You got up determined to photograph the place and maybe you could even sneak into the dressing rooms and find out what everything was like backstage. You had a hunch that not everything was as it seemed, and if you could get the scoop on some dark secret of the circus you would be very successful. ! You could already imagine the covers: "Excentrio circus hides a macabre mystery about its shows."

Stealthy and silent as a mouse you slipped behind the curtain to photograph something, anything would do. Behind it were messy ropes and cables as well as wooden crates. You opened one trying not to make noise and looking everywhere nervous. You expected to discover human parts, rotten tentacles or something much worse but when you opened it you only found circus clothes. You searched the background a little but there was nothing suspicious, disappointed you walked further finding a dark door in a hallway. It was the only one and it was a little ajar, you hesitated whether to go in or not since that would be an invasion of privacy and you didn't want to be too disrespectful. But you wanted to get to the bottom of it so you grabbed the knob and sighed.

"It's all for my work"

Upon entering you noticed a mirror with bright, blinding lights that belonged to a white dresser. To your right was a large mahogany closet. You approached to see it closer and noticed a beautiful carving of roses on its edges. You did a 180 degree turn trying to find something interesting but damn there was nothing, where had all the people gone?

You walked over to the dresser and looked at the table trying to find something. There was a lot of makeup powder and some books. You picked one up and read on the cover "Dark magic and its secrets." Finally something interesting. You took a few photos, you were so focused on it that you didn't realize that someone was behind you.

"Didn't they teach you that it's rude to go through other people's belongings?"

You jumped and screamed as you turned around. Standing there with his cane on his shoulders was Mr. Tophat looking at you seriously. He placed the tip of the cane on the floor and approached slowly, without rushing, as if he knew you had no escape. And in fact it was

With every step he took you moved further away and stuck your body to the edge of the dresser, leaning your back back trying in vain to keep the distance between him and you. When the man was close enough, he raised the brim of his hat slightly with his index finger to look at you better. God, he was even more intimidating in person. His cologne flooded your nostrils and intoxicated you like the most powerful old wine. You had to close your eyes tightly to avoid his green-eyed gaze on yours.

"So you're the camera girl who was in the audience."

You opened your eyes in surprise and your eyebrows raised somewhat fearfully which caused Tophat's Cheshire smile as a soft guttural laugh left his lips.

"Oh please dear, you don't think I didn't notice do you?"

You swallowed loudly as you felt him get even closer to you and his gaze scanned you. He went from your eyes to slowly travel to your body, his almost predatory gaze made you nervous. His eyes finally stopped at your backpack that you were carrying over your shoulder.

"Mmh, what do we have here little one?

He quickly put his hand in your bag and took out your notebook.

"No! Give me that, it's mine!"

He laughed amused and held the notebook up while with his other hand on your shoulder he moved your body away from him, preventing you from reaching your notebook.

"Let's see what we have here, shall we?"

With his thumb he opened the notebook to a random page and his eyes quickly scanned your messy handwriting. When he read something his eyes widened slightly and his corners stretched up a little.

"Oh my my, but what is this I read here?" He quickly gave you a mischievous and surprised look as he returned his eyes to the paper "It's the first time that I have visited this circus and I find myself with the first pleasant surprise: The ringleader is not only magnetic and hypnotizing as many said, but he is also quite handsome."

You screamed in annoyance and embarrassment as you pathetically tried to squirm to escape his grasp and reach for his hand but he was stronger and just laughed loudly at your efforts. Then he threw the notebook aside and looked at you funny.

"You flatter me deeply, darling" He said, placing his hand over his heart. "They have called me many things, but this is the first time that a girl as pretty as you calls me handsome."

He smiled at you and gave a small bow without taking his eyes off yours just like he did when you were in the seats. Then he stood up and became a little more serious.

"Now let's talk seriously. Why did you really come to my circus? Are you a photographer?"

"Jo-journalism student"

Why did you have to tell him what you did? Stupid. You could have lied to him and that's it, he didn't have to know the truth. But shit, he was so intimidating and those almost neon green eyes made you dizzy if you looked at them for too long. His penetrating gaze made you feel naked, vulnerable before him, as if he could see through your skin, beyond your flesh.

"Ah I see.."

Mr. Tophat with his cane made slow circles around you like a vulture hungry for carrion. He looked you up and down, studying you, and was delighted when you turned your head nervously so as not to lose sight of him. Suddenly he stood next to you almost face to face and grabbed your chin tightly, making you turn your face so you could look at him, you moaned in pain.

"And I suppose the journalist wanted to reveal the secrets of this carnival, am I wrong?"

Faced with your silence, he lifted your chin so he could see you well.

"Come on, let me see those pretty eyes of yours and use your words, my dear."

It was the first time you felt afraid, really afraid. You didn't consider yourself a scary person at all, you laughed at horror movies and you loved supernatural things. But this was different, a feeling of danger oppressed your chest. Even so, you drew strength and courage from your gut to answer.

"Maybe"

At your outburst of bravery, Mr. Tophat let out a syrupy and poisonous laugh at the same time. He let go of your chin abruptly and walked away a few steps, caressing the end of his cane between his fingers.

"Oh darling, I'm afraid that won't be possible." He feigned sadness. "Maybe I'll have to keep you here for a while so you can reconsider."

All your alerts sounded inside you like the sirens of the purge. Stay locked up here? forever? No, you couldn't allow it. You quickly directed your gaze towards your notebook and towards the door behind Tophat. If he noticed he pretended not to, so you ran to pick up your notepad and then you rushed towards the door but he was faster and grabbed you by the arms firmly.

"Where are you going so fast huh? Please stay a little longer, the best hasn't started yet"

You turned your head everywhere in terror, trying to find a way out, until your gaze met the black magic book that you had photographed. Had this guy made a deal with the devil or something and that's why he behaved that way? If so you were screwed. The man noticed that you were looking at the book and put his arms around you, hugging you and brought his mouth close to your ear, his breath tickling you.

"I see you found my book, I can teach you some tricks if you want" He whispered, smiling

Those insinuations, his macabre smile, his strong grip and notorious superior power over you were too much. You fell to your knees to the ground dejected, tormented by the possible nightmare you were about to live. Mr. Tophat's evil laugh accompanied you for a long time as you felt your eyes water.

.........

You didn't come home that night, nor the next day or the day after that. Your mother desperately searched everywhere without giving up, hoping that one day you would return, in the streets and newspapers you can see wanted posters with your face on it. Y/n L/n's whereabouts were never found again, it seems that you were just another child of those disappeared by the demonic ringleader of the Carnival of Doom

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