#it's been on ground zero for years I just hope to God I get some SCHWANG

[iuwon]

X ▸ yang jungwon (part i)

▸ DESCRIPTION : what do you get when you have a stupid asshole of a bestfriend (who’s completely head over heels for you, should he add) and a fucked up ego that refuses to admit any form of defeat? you guessed it: the summoning of a jealous ex-boyfriend who dumped you two years ago, and is hell-bent on winning you back.

▸ PAIRING : ex!yang jungwon x female reader (feat. nishimura riki)

▸ GENRE(S) : angst, fluff, slow burn, exes au, college au

▸ WORD COUNT : 28.5k+

▸ WARNING(S) : this is very fast-paced for a slow burn, VERY cringe-y angst and writing (pls spare me it’s my first time😭), fake-dating with riki, JUNGWON REDEMPTION ARC ON PART 2, breakup scenes, indication of hang-ups and love triangles, jealousy, profanities, mentions of a car accident, blood, flashbacks from before and after the breakup, both reader and jungwon have issues :D, this has a second part because the fic is too long, not proofread, kindly let me know if there are any more ^-^

▸ SPOTIFY PLAYLIST : here

▸ UPDATED A/N : hello!! i finished this fic on the start of 2022 and then left it like that when i went on my hiatus, so rereading it nearing the end of 2022 .. i CANNOT take this seriously LMFAOO i was high and i dramatized everything im sawry. But. this is the longest fic i’ve written so far and for that i’m sort of :D i have little to almost zero experience of writing long fics AND angst, so i really hope to any who read this won’t have any high expectations T^T pls lmk your thoughts on this one!

▸ REQUESTED! for my scorpio twin anon :)

SOME PEOPLE ARE JUST LIKE KITES.

Someone had said that once, you remember. They’re the type of people that don’t have their two feet planted anywhere near the ground. They fly, and they keep flying. They have their mind fixated on solely reaching higher and higher up the sky just to blissfully enjoy the breeze. 

They continue to fly up once the string is held securely in someone’s hand. The thought never crosses their mind that the person holding the string might ever grow tired, or that the person would only continue to hold on because it’s hard to release the string - because it’s hard to let go.

Sometimes, the kite flies away. Either the wind current was too strong, or maybe it slipped out of your grasp. In the end, the one holding the kite is always the one to blame for carelessly losing them - it’s the person who mourns of the lost kite and suffers the consequences.

.

.

.

↻ … ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ 

You were the type that always focused on studies. 

A homebody was what you were. To you, school was meant for school. The topic of boys never interested you, and Yang Jungwon wasn’t anywhere never of an exemption. 

Yang Jungwon, the notorious musical genius – the charming boy-wonder who lived in his own 4D world. People could say countless of sweet things to describe him, but you would forever see him as a person who was incapable of holding an interest for anyone for longer than his short attention span could hold – much more a romantic one.

You hissed in frustration, “Yang Jungwon, I swear to God, if you will not leave me alone -” your tone doesn’t faze him at all, as expected. He was immune to all your threats and remarks long before. A wide cheeky grin splits open his features before his hand reaches over and snatches your chemistry textbook at the mid-sentence of your threat, peeking over at it, “Chemical bonding?” he reads aloud, titling his head. 

And he irritates you further. Your mid-term finals were next week, and you were barely getting any of the subjects done at this rate. You were close to college, and you did not want to have anything, or anyone mess it up. 

You glare at him, “I’ve been at the same topic for the past half hour because of you,” trying to reach over your stolen textbook from the boy who never just seemed to leave you alone, his lips tug downwards in a musing pout. He stares at you before his eyes light up in thought. 

Without another word, he leaves his chair beside you, not before passing you your book. You immediately grip onto your textbook with relief, skeptical that he’d grab it back away from you again.

Moments pass and you have the time all to yourself to study, but it’s too quiet for you - despite being at a bustling café. You turn your head to both your sides, eyes subconsciously searching for him. You blink, where did he go? Did you manage to kick him out once and for all -?

A whisper from your left ear interrupts your thoughts, and you feel a warm figure lightly pressing against you from behind, “try to sing out the formulas, they’re easier to remember.”

You almost yelp in surprise, jumping away from him. Where the hell did he come from? “Yah, are you crazy -?” you began, but he starts to lightheartedly poke fun. “C’mon, do it. It’ll be easier to remember,” he encourages you, pulling out a guitar from behind. You didn’t even bother to question where he had the time to get his guitar. All you were thinking about were ways to make him leave.

You shot him a look, annoyed. “Do what?”

He was always so childish. So bothersome.

He randomly strums out his guitar strings before picking up a tune, “Sing the formulas out,” his eyes momentarily directed you to the textbook laid out on the table, “I’ll help you with the melody. Go on,” you were ready to throw a harsh retort at him, telling him off to how he was wasting your time and how his idea was stupid - but his eyes; his perfectly shaped eyes looking ever so purely earnest your way.

You hated it.

You weren’t a musical genius or any of that sort, that was all Jungwon. You couldn’t just whip out the best melodic high note nor could you memorize a thousand slide powerpoint discussion even with the help of music. He didn’t have to worry about his grades - hence, his carefree attitude - and he didn’t have to stress over finals week when his career in music was already made out for him. All he ever did around school was tag along and annoy you, try the most obnoxious attempts to ask you out, play his guitar, and listen to music in the earphones he never took off. 

You hesitantly look away, if you went along with him - maybe he’d go away once he got what he wanted to do. Little did you know how helpful the technique Jungwon suggested came out - or how fun it actually tuned out to be despite how awful your voice was, he was still looking at you like you were the singing like the angels. 

Barely another hour later, you remarkably managed to get it all by heart and cover the topics that couldn’t have been covered in at least three days - with the help of the one person who has been disturbing you from studying in the first place. You could only gawk dumbly at his guitar. 

Jungwon could sense your astonishment from miles away, and that made him all the more complacent with the huge beam he was wearing on his face. He wasn’t going to merely let this go. That trademark boyish look of his is back. “For my payment of very helpful service,” he starts as if you had ever asked him in the first place as he pretends to think, humming, “I’ll accept it in forms of you allowing me to take you out,” he suggests gleefully, his eyes sparkling in mischief. 

You would normally scoff at his attempt yet again, telling him off - but this time. You couldn’t keep count of the endless tries he’s pulled this trick. This time you helplessly shake your head with a roll of your eyes. You couldn’t keep count of anything anymore, nor were you going to start now.

Yang Jungwon wasn’t going to give up on you.

… ᵉⁿᵈ ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ ↺

.

.

.

TWO YEARS LATER [ JUNGWON’S POV ]

Through the extent of his memory, you never failed to take care of Yang Jungwon.

Not once. No matter how hard you would push him aside and passively act like you didn’t care much about him, you would be there for him; you would always be there. By his side.

And then you were gone.

Jungwon was two years older now.

Checking the items in his shopping bag to see if everything was complete, he leaves the grocery store, rummaging through his purchased items when his body swiftly crashes onto something. He takes a few steps to regain his stance as he stumbles backward.

“Oh, sorry,” someone says, and it takes a moment or two before he snapped out of his daze. He turns instinctively to the direction of the voice as he tries to readjust his grip on his pile of bags.

That voice. He knows that voice. 

But for a moment, his breathing halts, body stiffening instantly at the sight of someone he’d never expected to see. Never. Never again. Because this time, it’s you.

You.

You blink, showing mild surprise. And indifference. As if you were looking straight at a stranger. Your eyes pointedly averts itself away from him while you keep the proper formalities and try to start a conversation with your composure, “Uh, hello. How are you?”

To say that he’s caught off guard is too much of an understatement.

You looked different.

You looked good.

No.

You looked beautiful.

Is he dead? No, wait. What? Air gets knocked out of his lungs and he feels like he’s been punched in the gut at the same time.

You looked more beautiful than the image that he had of you for the past years, and it breaks him.

Like nothing has ever pulled you down – as if leaving you only did you good – as if it never happened or affected you by the least. 

How could you look so well?

To say that Jungwon looked like a mess was an understatement.

He bit his tongue, cursing for choosing the greatest timing. He tugged at the hem of his shirt, subtly trying to adjust it. What should he do . . . now? How should he start? 

How were you? Why didn’t you look for him? Were you doing fine? Did you find someone else? Have you moved on? Should he move on? Did you -

In the short silence, you seemed to be relieved to receive a text message, the ding that gives you an excuse to look away and check your phone. You make a face, feeling suddenly alarmed. Expression rushed, you formally bid him goodbye, and it fucking hurts him even more. “Nice seeing you. I should be on my way now. Have a nice day.”

A strangers’ nice pleasantry. With no sincerity. 

But you walk away, leaving him – not bothering to ask him for another meet-up. Jungwon is left standing in the middle of the street, dumbfounded.

Like it ended here.

Is this it?

He wasn’t even able to get to say anything.

This was worse than being nothing to each other.

It was worse than being treated like someone you hated.

He tries to inhale. 

Jungwon has no idea, honestly. Not anymore. 

One day, he had told himself for years.

One day, he would broadly smile at you. He’d stand proudly confident, and you’d know that he’s gotten over you for good. He’d win and see that he’s no longer suffering. You would see. You would. He’d get over you.

But bumping into you for the first time in years had Jungwon rethinking if he’s ever gotten over your eyes in the first place.

.

.

.

PRESENT 

You can sulk for a little, throw a tantrum - but a kite is a kite. There’s no chance of it coming back; once you let go, it doesn’t look back at you to pause and run back to your hold. There was only one thing you could do from thereon: you could always forget about it, toss it aside like a child does, and replace it with a new one; making sure it’s a much better kind. 

That. That was something you reminded yourself time and time again for the past two years. Though the line was taken from a measly television show that you’ve watched long ago, it’s been the only line of string that kept you from looking back - like a mother telling her child to stop crying over a lost kite.

But, right then and there, it was like time itself pauses for you when you stand in the same café four years ago, hearing the all-familiar voice that you could never forget. There, when you feel your heart beating out of your control and dropping dead. There, where you’re not sure of the extent of what you could restrain yourself from doing.

You don’t know how you’re suddenly transported to the direction of the soft voice - it’s familiarity greeting you, and for a brief second, the memories you’ve burned long ago painfully flash back to mind - you almost flinch.

[ now playing ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ train wreck by james arthur ] 

“I don’t wanna lose this, but I’m not getting through this. Hey, should I pray? Should I pray? Yeah,” Yang Jungwon.

It’s him.

Him, with his stupidly beautiful voice and his damn entrancing presence dragging you back harder than you remembered, and the pain he’s trying to immerse himself in as he ignores his physical surroundings. 

And you.

You, as you’re trying to fight away the haunting flash of memories that are slowly starting to accompany you, and you, as you could do nothing but fleetingly watch him. 

This was the second time you’ve bumped into him. You snorted, why was he always everywhere you went?

And it was like after the years of methodically stitching yourself back together, you’re transported back to the same person you were two years ago. 

A fool.

“To myself? To a God? To a savior who can …” 

You admit, there were days where you forgot his face - or in other words, days where you refused to acknowledge how he used to look at you. Days where it was too painful to even think about. 

You swear to yourself that those days are long over.

Standing across the end of the room after three years of absolutely nothing from him felt suffocating, as if there was no air to breathe. You didn’t realize you were holding in a short breath, and when you exhaled - you felt pinning, and needles, and knives stabbed deep into your lungs. 

“Unbreak the broken, unsay these spoken words. Find hope in the hopeless - pull me out of the train wreck,” 

When Jungwon’s eyes slowly open, the first thing he sees is you. 

Both your eyes meet, and he freezes. All too slowly. Everything in motion. You notice how his eyes widen, and how the old memories flash in his eyes all the same. 

PainMiseryHurtDisbeliefHope-

The regret.

All this happens in front of you. A dream. A nightmare. All at once. Your face remains passive and unaffected, hard - nonchalant with ease, refusing to feel bothered. Time seems slow, but you don’t hesitate to casually walk away, being the first to break eye-contact. You didn’t want to spend another second in that room.

Your grip on the drink in hand tightens in its own accord.

You’ve moved on.

But what was this sort of feeling enveloping you in?

A teasing wolf-whistle startles you on your way out of the café, ripping you out of the lethargic trance you were warped into. “Was that an ex I saw over there?” You find Nishimura Riki with his shit-eating face and his waggling of eyebrows up beside you. Grimacing at his face, you harshly nudge your elbow to his sides in annoyance. 

Breathing is a little bit easier with him around.

But you still feel like vomiting. “Is shutting up not part of how your brain is wired?” you roll your eyes, showing no effort at all to hide your agitation. He lets out an amused laugh, his playful gaze only duplicating itself as he proceeds to brutally tease you. 

Riki isn’t an asshole. Not really. He’s what you’d call your best friend … without much other choice. Though he can perfectly embody one, he knows his limits (though you may sometimes find yourself doubting it) and the extents to where he can joke around. He can be all sorts annoying and a douche whenever food is on the line, but he’s the only one who’s stuck with you since day one of what happened two years ago - and never bothered to pressure you into questions that tormented you even further.

You lost contact with the friends you had once shared along with Jungwon. It felt embarrassing and uncomfortable to hang around them with everyone aware of what happened, until it was long months later that it just didn’t seem right to suddenly start hanging around them again after your efforts vigorously avoiding them.

You’ve lost a lot.

And you just met the man behind it all.

Nishimura Riki was sort of all you had, and he knew that too. He figured everything that happened eventually through time, by himself. Picking up the little things wasn’t too difficult to do, neither was piecing everything together with a little help and slow nudge from you over the years. 

“He’s moving in this building, you know,” he looks over to your side.

Your stomach lurches, freezing in place. Your jaw nearly drops to the floor, gaping at him like your eyes would bulge out any second. 

Over your fucking dead body. 

That building was precisely the building you lived in. “What?” you nearly yell, causing passersby walking along the sidewalks to throw the both of you looks.  

He rolls his eyes, “Geez, princess, clam down. I was kidding,” he bumps his shoulder next to yours, as if he was trying to shake you up. He starts going over about how you were showing ‘hang-ups’ symptoms before you start barking a mouthful of threatening-nothings to have him shut his mouth, running after him.

Something rings different, however.

Yang Jungwon.

The name lingers in the back of your head, no matter how hard you try to push it away. It’s been three years, but when the kite you’ve lost years ago - the kite you swore you’ve already forgotten about - comes back, what then? 

.

.

.

↻ … ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ 

You weren’t necessarily the warmest type of person.

Blank faces, blunt responses, and sharp glares were all people received from you. You got others avoiding you in return, it was a give and take situation that benefited perfectly on both sides – perhaps more on your side. It worked as a repellent to kept everyone off your radar. And you liked that. You enjoyed being left alone. You found peace in your own solitude, away from other people. You were never exactly fond of people, either way.

Yang Jungwon was certainly a different breed.

Maybe it was the challenge that he liked, at first. You; the unwavering and ‘unbeatable’ challenge that provoked him – enticed him. That kept him coming. You were a brick wall, and he was someone who had the world at the palm of his hand.

But you don’t know how his intentions changed along the way.

You don’t know what made him change his mind – or what part of you that he saw that made him choose to do so, but it wasn’t of any use to figure out how.

Because he wanted you, now.

And he would ever-so-bluntly admit that.

All your efforts of shrugging him off made him fight harder for you. It was useless. The more you would curse at him with the harshest words just made him want to tag along by your side even more with that boyish grin never leaving his face.

He was a weird one.

“You know, you’re not as mean as how the people label you as.”

“And you’re more annoying than they claim you to be,” you don’t crack an amused smile. Jungwon wonders if he’s ever seen you smile – or even wear anything else of an expression that didn’t look bored, annoyed, angry, or enraged. He takes a moment to visualize how beautiful you would look when you smile and decides that he’ll do anything to see that happen. Just like that.

“You keep tossing me away,” he defended himself, the corner of his lips tugging downwards in the smallest pout.

“You keep coming back,” you retorted back, eyes shooting daggers.

By the look of his face, you realize your response wasn’t the best. “I’ll keep coming back to you,” he finishes. A lopsided grin. His brain was wired differently.

You didn’t hold back your prolonged suffering exhale.

It was a careless remark.

Such a recklessly made promise.

… ᵉⁿᵈ ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ ↺

.

.

.

↻ … ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ 

[ JUNGWON’S POV ]

No one loves you like Yang Jungwon.

Whenever you’re blabbering about something with the biggest smile on your face, every time at that exact moment Jungwon knows that no one can ever be as fucking in love you like a dumb plain sheet of white paper like he can. Nor can they get to know you - or the 2 am you. They wouldn’t get to know how beautiful you look with the one side-lamp illuminating a side of your face - and the little things that come along with it, it’s only him. 

It’s only him.

But when he stares into your eyes, he knows it all too. No one is as bad for you as Jungwon is either, he believes, and it fucking destroys him as he holds onto you tighter, his hands slightly trembling. He can’t lose you, he doesn’t want to, and he doesn’t know the person he’ll become if he ever does. He doesn’t know if he’ll even make a day after it. 

Why didn’t he think that there would ever be an end to a sweet dream?

Yang Jungwon is your first, but someone else is going to be your last.

Someone else that wasn’t him. 

He muffles the sound of the soft cries that escape him as you peacefully sleep next to him in his tight hold, unaware of what’s to come.

He’s everything that he promised you he would never be.

… ᵉⁿᵈ ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ ↺

.

.

.

THE NEXT WEEK

Riki must’ve placed some sort of curse on you for this to happen.

You could vividly imagine his shit-eating face with his loud laughter already.

Whatever witchcraft or shitty attempt of ‘fate’ this was, Nishimura Riki was going to be the cause of your death. Though this has barely anything to do with him, you can’t think of anyone else that brings that much bad luck to you. You’re seriously starting to think the world is unreservedly just fucking with you for entertainment.

Just when you thought you were never going to see him again.

Yang Jungwon stands at the front of the classroom, leaning on one foot with a backpack slung over his one shoulder. You almost facepalm, this was some Egyptian curse that was going to follow and haunt you, wasn’t it? Perhaps the ghost haunting you was in the form of your ex-boyfriend.

Of course, the new student had to just be him.

You never thought you would ever see him again. Thankfully, he doesn’t notice you and sits the farthest from your area. You keep your head focused on the individual work assigned to the class. If this whole thing could keep up, you could probably spend the next semester without him knowing you’re in the same class, then, you could hopefully change classes by the next - it wouldn’t be so bad. You didn’t have to acknowledge him.

That is, until the Professor starts assigning him roles and tasks. “There are the modules for you to read, and then around four individual minor projects to keep up with. The fifth individual project, however, majorly affects your grade,” he pauses, lightly smacking his lips as he scans his student list. 

He flips through papers as he continues, “since you’ve missed most of the term, I’ll be pairing you up with Lim Seoyeon,” he drags the last word, scurrying through his papers to find another name, “and Y/L/N Y/N. Both are only lacking their thesis papers, while the others are still lacking to submit three projects, so it would be most convenient for her compared to the rest.” 

Your stomach churns, feeling sick. Physically cringing, you felt like creating an uproar. Wherever Yang Jungwon goes, trouble always follows; this simply could not be happening to you. Lord, it was the least convenient to you. 

This world couldn’t hate you this much.

You wanted to curse any of the gods above you placed you in this shithole, being beyond frustrated and unwilling. Anyone but him. You could only mournfully regret passing all your projects in advance, it was ironic. You get yourself into fucked up situations for being a good student? What is this university? 

The Professor doesn’t clarify anything with you - nor does he justify the situation and the injustice, but only throws a nod in acknowledgement in your direction before he waves at Jungwon in dismissal - excusing himself from the classroom.

Your eyes could almost bulge out.

What was happening . . . ?

Jungwon’s eyes sweep over the room before he finds you, but you note how he doesn’t look the least surprised to see you. He stares, trying to discern your expression, but you once again break eye contact within a second.

You were in hell.

You had no option to stalk up to the teacher’s desk to bargain when the professor wasn’t there in the first place. You were fucking stuck with him. You felt the burning flames when he got up to make his way to you, and as he stood right in front of you. Choking to death because of a meatball in live television seemed like a much peaceful idea that kept most of your remaining dignity. 

Maybe if you kept your head buried with studies, he would go away.

“Y/N,” a voice acknowledges you.

Fuck, you could remember that voice anywhere. 

“It’s nice to see you.” Yang Jungwon. 

You made a noise in response.

The feeling was not reciprocated.

You hate the way he sounds.

Like he wasn’t the same person three years ago.

You forcefully nod curtly at him, and you’re drowning.

Suddenly, we are strangers again. An unwanted stranger. There was no other option rather than tolerating him until it was all fine. You could do this. You didn’t want to, but you had to, otherwise you’d be at the polar end of the classroom by now if you had the choice. 

But you chose to ignore him: Ignore the fact that he sat right next to you in close proximity, ignore the fact that you could smell his cologne - the familiarity of it and how it smelled like home, and ignored him like he never existed when he tried asking questions. In your defense, either they were a waste of time to answer, or they could easily be found in the textbook. 

“Hi, I was wondering if –” Ignore it.

“Do you know where the questions for –?” Ignore it.

“Don’t you think this project is pretty difficult –?” Ignore it.

And you turned a blind eye to the fact that you disregarded him because you didn’t know if you could control yourself.

Seoyeon was a lifesaver, managing to keep you sane as she voluntarily chose to step in to help Jungwon out after hearing all his questions directed to you left unanswered. You wouldn’t know what you would do if you were forced alone with him. She reads the room but doesn’t question anything. 

You tell yourself it was anger that made yourself this way.

Blind consuming anger.

You hate how Jungwon could still manage read you after all this time.

A quiet and gentle question, “Y/N, are you mad at me?”

You barely react, but your eyes squint on their own. You weren’t going to lie nor deny it, you do really wish he hadn’t chosen to interact with you. Staring blankly at your laptop screen, you don’t move. A hushed voice - a subconscious that you swore you lost long ago - in the back of your head whispers an answer before you force yourself to shove it down. You almost scoffed; are you mad at him? What kind of a dumb question is that? 

He was nothing but an ass, he hadn’t changed. 

“No, why would I be?” You answer brusquely, your tone signifying that you were keeping a distance from him without having to say it.

You hope the cue was taken.

There was no need to keep the friendliness with him – you weren’t obligated to. Formalities were all there was left. At least you would treat him with the respect that you were scraping your skin out for, right? Whatever you had with him - it was over. It was long gone. 

You refused to be controlled under the palm of his hand ever again.

You swiftly pack your belongings and left him without a work or glance to spare his way the second you hear the bell signal the end of the period right on time. You don’t even bid your classmate, Seoyeon, goodbye. You’d apologize to her later and explain things to her, hoping she’d understand and lend a helping hand.

It’s been two years and the minute he shows up, you find yourself crumbling and unable to control yourself, and that frustrates you. You’re slipping.

Being around him was a waste of energy.

You remind yourself that you feel nothing. 

He was a stranger to you now.

Once again, you walked away from him, gripping the strap of your backpack tightly in sheer annoyance and vexation. Mind racing, you try to find a reason; why was Yang Jungwon in your major and university and what in the heavens above does he want from you?

.

.

.

LATER

Riki roars in laughter, his hand slapping his knee as he nearly falls off the chair. You were almost tempted to push him off. 

“You think it can’t get any funnier than that, but it does!” he pretends to wipe away a fake tear, “you ignored him all the way through!” he bursts into fits laughter once again. 

“Poor guy, getting the silent treatment from someone like Y/N on your first day at college is depressing,” he empathizes, though it doesn’t sound by any means sincere. Nothing about Nishimura Riki is sincere. “At least I’m not the only one Y/N treats like shit!” he notes positively with a beam on his face, but you’re not sure if that’s anything that’s supposed to be of positive news.

You whack the back of his head, and he whines. “When have I ever treated you like shit, you dumbass?” 

“I’m taking this as a form of harassment,” he grumbles.

You stick your tongue out at him mischievously, “Oh, boo-hoo, you big baby, ‘s not like you don’t bully the hell out of me,” you roll your eyes, “and help out and do something about Jungwon, will you?” you ask him for a favor, your tone indicating exhaustion.

He furrows his eyebrows at you, “What’d you want me to do - bury his body? Doll, I barely even know the guy.” 

You swing your arms - shooing something nonexistent away for gesturing, “Just keep him away! I don’t know, do one of those stupid ideas that you always come up with. I can’t stand seeing his face,” you complain, almost childishly stomping your feet in outrage. This was unlike you.

He lowly whistles, “I was really hoping for some real kind of exes-to-lovers type of k-drama lead coming to life,” he comments, and you muster the biggest disgusted glare at him. He only shrugs his shoulders with a mere ‘hey-what-can-you-do?’.

“However, there’s a …” he trails off, lighting up like a lightbulb with an idea in mind already. 

You raise a brow, “A what?” 

He looks at you with a grin, suggestively wiggling his eyebrows, “We can fake-date.”

You were dumb to ask him for ideas. You groan. “Not again.”

“C’mon,” he probes you, tugging at your arm. Was he really that bored with his life to want to fake-date you?

You blankly stare at him, deadpanned. “You get dumber and dumber the more I talk to you,” you don’t hold back from telling him, receiving a dirty scowl thrown at you, “I’m serious! Isn’t that what people do whenever one of their exes show up?”

Squinting at him, you ask, “Just how many fanfics have you been reading?” 

He crosses his arms, “Make fun of me all you want, but we both know that those ideas never fail,” he huffs, “you wanted him gone, didn’t you?” he tries to resonate, “Everyone thinks we’re already a thing anyway, it won’t be too hard, or would it be much of a trouble if we just went on with it. We’re basically pros at this dating thing, aren’t we?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, “Yes, and getting back at him would feel rightfully good as hell and all but,” you sigh in exasperation, hating to be the one to ruin the fun, “doing that would mess everything up even more, I’m sure. We’d be the ones ending up as the dumb fools in the situation. Did you already forget the time we fake dated to get that girl obsessed over you off your back? And how it backfired on us?” you stated, and Riki’s thoughtful silence justified your stance. 

You’d rather die the most undignified death than have Yang Jungwon win the second time around, and that was not happening under Nishimura Riki’s watch.

“If I could just turn into a wizard or anything like that and ‘magic’ him away,” you plopped an arm up on the desk, resting the side of your cheek at the palm of your hand, “probably turn him into a damn ugly and useless broomstick while at it, too.”

Riki lets out a humorous short laugh at the sight of you, “Cheer up, princess,” he slings an arm around your shoulder, poking your cheek, “I’ll help you too, and I’ll beat him up whenever he tries to go near you; hot sexy Nishimura Riki cares about your cute dumbass,” You bump your hip playfully toward his. I’m not leaving you alone, is what he was trying to say.

He’d excuse it as simply returning the favor that he asked from you. The time when the both of you fake-dated, and it backfired – forcing you to reach extreme measures that went on for months.

Right, you had Riki. And he wasn’t going to just ditch you, not like him. He’s stayed firmly next to you for the past two years through all the shit you put him though (and all the shit he put you through). Riki may have been a rascal, but he was nothing compared to how shitty Yang Jungwon was.

You simply just had to keep going and help Jungwon out in certain parts while interacting the least you could and ignore him (or preferably call Riki to tell him off, he’d love to finally be given the chance to annoy the shit out of someone) whenever he tries anything funny. As soon as it was over, you’d do your stay out of his way and pretend like nothing happened. After all, he was the one who left. If anyone was trying to run away, it’d be him.

Everything was going to be fine. You didn’t care.

It was no big deal; no extensive measures were needed.

A sharp inhale.

You didn’t know if you were lying or if you were telling the truth.

.

.

.

[ now playing ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ yellow by coldplay ]

↻ … ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ

Jungwon liked to follow you around.

He also liked dragging you along with him with whatever excuse he could come up with. You never could really decipher what that oddball was thinking, just when you thought you caught up to him, he surprises you with something new every day. 

Lee Heeseung, your senior, was discussing that week’s event that the school was holding with you when Jungwon swoops in and drags you away without second thought, “Sorry, hyung! Gotta borrow her today ~” he throws a grin, and Heeseung could only roll his eyes, staring in playful disbelief after the both of you, “ya, that’s what you said the last three times too!”

Jungwon gives the kind of pleading look you know Heeseung couldn’t resist, “I swear I’ll pay you back with free lunch, hyung!” he yells back. You were used to being dragged away or trailed around by him; it wasn’t anything of the ordinary. He winks at you. 

No matter how hard you would try to avoid him or threaten him, he was always looking at you with the most mischievous silly and crazy ideas in mind. 

On the other hand, he didn’t really enjoy the idea of you hanging out with other guys.

Could you call him delusional? You really wanted to.

And then there was this other instance, where Jungwon had sulked behind you the whole period, making noises that surely irritated you whilst you interviewed Park Jay for a class paper, who was a part of the varsity team. It forced you to spend the entire day with him for the interview, which Jungwon did not seem to like. It came to the point where you had to embarrassedly excuse yourself from the number of huffs and noises he was making. Jay was left giving confused looks, completely distracted from the whole topic that the whole interview was pointless no matter how hard her tried to ignore Jungwon.

“What is your deal?” You hissed at Jungwon in annoyance as soon as you scurried away from the varsity team, “you completely embarrassed me over there, you rascal!” He doesn’t hear you. He seemed deep in thought, as if he was battling with himself. Jungwon faced you with the biggest frown - looking more distraught than ever, “You don’t like him, right?”

Your mouth slightly hangs open, thrown off-guard. What?

“He isn’t your type, isn’t he? He doesn’t look like it. You’d never go for a guy like him.” He looked ridiculous – and it wasn’t much of a shock to you. An idiot and a loser. You figured it’d only be a matter of time before he completely lost his mind. It was as if he was talking to himself. You lightly whacked his arm, trying to get some sense into him and snap him out, “What are you talking about, you rascal?”

He bores his eyes onto yours, “Whatever. I won’t let you, anyway. I’ll stay by your side you ‘till the day I die if I have to.” His eyes were set with firm determination, yet you didn’t bother pressing on - being sure he was up to no good, as usual.

He was speaking, but you couldn’t piece together what he was trying to imply. You didn’t really care either, he was a weird guy. Still, you were frustrated at him for just having to mess everything up for you again, “I can’t believe you,” you muttered incredulously, turning your heel to start walking away from him – you were done with this boy. 

“Hey – angel, no, wait. Where are you going –?”

… ᵉⁿᵈ ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ ↺

.

.

.

↻ … ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ

Admittedly, you didn’t hate Yang Jungwon as much when you had first met him, but the dislike started to grow at a profound rate when he started acting as a nuisance the more occasions he stuck around.

You weren’t exaggerating. Jungwon was just the epitome of overbearingly unable to understand social boundaries and your extreme dislike of having him in a 2-mile radius near you.

And you had your dignity, but Jungwon was an entirely different topic. Hiding from him in the gymnasium lockers was your last resort.

“Gotcha,” a cheery voice slides in beside you out of nowhere. Your heart almost jumped out of your body in fright, did he always have to jump-scare you out of nowhere?

“Seriously –?!”

“Stop playing hide and seek with me, angel. I’d love to play this game some other time with you but not now! We have somewhere else to go!” He has got to be shallow. Or dumb. Really dumb. You don’t know. As much as he loved blabbering endless nonsense around you that never seemed to make sense and was barely capable of leaving your side, you barely knew anything of him.

 You glowered at him, “I’m not playing hide and seek with you, you rascal! I’m obviously avoiding you –!”

He pats the top of your head before gently grabbing your hand, interrupting your nth effort to knock some sense into him. “Let’s go! It’s my turn for a Y/N day.” he points forward, leaving the library baggage hall that he found you hiding in. A Y/N day? What were you to him, an item? You groan, sounding sorrow. You really thought you got away from him this time. “Yah, we’re going to miss class!” 

You didn’t even know why you bothered.

Jungwon tilts his head, giving you a look as if to tell you to not worry, “We’re going to the river today, anyway. I brought my boombox with me,” he proudly tells you, and you aggravatedly sigh, feeling defeated. You swore you made all the measures needed to carefully avoid him, thinking you were finally left alone. 

“Why do you always bring me along?” you deadpan, trying to wriggle free from his grasp. He was probably going to insert another flirtatious line or something among those actions. Why don’t you ever leave me alone? 

You never really got it. Any of his interests, in fact. Why was he so determined to pursue you? There were countless of girls who were more of a ‘challenge’, and they were all the more interesting than you, with no doubt. What did he see in you? “Don’t you have any other friends?” you pulled a face at him. Jungwon has been by your side for such a long time that you grew accustomed to his presence, still, you weren’t going to admit that. 

“I don’t want to hang out with them, I want to go with you,” he simply explains, as if it was the most obvious answer.

You furrow your eyebrows at him, irritated, yet curious as you stress, “Why?”

He pauses, still looking ahead as he guides you forward, “Being around you makes me happy.” You simply glance at him and the look he has makes you shiver.

Jungwon was always straightforward. There was not an ounce of shame in that man’s soul. He said what was on his mind without any filter, and he also had a peculiar way of thinking, which in terms, you guess, made him intelligent. 

A beat passes, and you don’t find a retort to throw back at him.

Jungwon was like this beaming sunshine and busted in the dark hell you drowned yourself in.

Even if you enjoyed the darkness.

He always knew where to find you.

He found you.

… ᵉⁿᵈ ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ ↺

.

.

.

Every year.

Every moment.

Jungwon was always there.

Yang Jungwon always knew where to find you, it was like his sixth sense. He could spot any of your bullshit or anything that you were hiding from him in a mile radius. There was no bother in hiding from him. He would always pop up by your side with a lopsided smile, carrying his guitar around and whining to you because he wanted to do something fun.

He was a bothersome child.

He was there in the times you didn’t want to see him, and he was there in the times where you needed someone but there was no one to turn to. It was as if you could summon him, you would always retort. 

Making up excuses was his specialty, he always seemed to disregard everything to tag along with you. He made crazily creative alibies that never seemed to run out just in order to be able to stay by your side.

Until one day he stopped.

Until one day he ran out of reasons.

So, where was he and what was he doing two years ago when he left you the moment you needed only him the most?

One day, you woke up and he was gone. You haven’t heard from him since. Not a trace left. Not a ghost left to haunt you. And somehow, that haunted you even more. 

Where did you go?

.

.

.

↻ … ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ

You liked the pastries that Jungwon used to make for you.

You remember that he made them for you a lot. Whenever you did a job well done on a simple test or if you overworked yourself, you always found a box of your favorite flavors on your desk or locker the following day. You didn’t have to question who it was from; he didn’t have to say anything.

You weren’t accustomed to having that kind of treatment. A simple job done is merely a simple job done. There hasn’t been much of a pat on a back or a congratulatory party for the little achievements, and that was completely fine you. However, that wasn’t the case for Jungwon.

Puzzled, you held up the mysterious box, “What is this?” 

“Sweets. Try them and tell me if you like them or not,” you could tell that he was anxious in anticipation. You try and hand it back over to him, “Oh, I’m not really in the mood for sweets, you can go ahead and give them to Minju though, she loves -”

“I didn’t make them for Minju,” he stands in front of you, sort of dejected and earnest. That was a new look on him. His face seemingly somewhat deflated, and somewhat embarrassed. He scratches the back of his head awkwardly, refusing to meet your gaze as he shakes his head and changes his mind, trying to reach over the box to save his dignity in the situation.

Your eyes slightly widen, processing, “Wait,” you withdraw your extended arm, looking back at the box, pointing to it, “you made this?”

“It’s not really any -” Jungwon starts, reaching out for the box for him to take back but you swat his arm away.

“You should’ve said so, dumbass! I love things homemade,” you explain lightheartedly, your eyes glittering once you open the box to reveal damn beautifully decorated chocolates. Your mouth formed an ‘o’ shape from the blow, almost gasping.

He did that?

“You don’t have to act all that, you know,” Jungwon adds, and when you spare him a glace, you realize he’s being serious.

You roll your eyes at him, ready to punch his arm. Acting? He wishes! Was he just wanting more compliments from you, or did he really believe that his baking didn’t look like the prettiest things ever? They looked too beautiful to eat but you didn’t know if you could manage to restrain yourself from eating something that looked so delicious. “Shut up, look at that! Are you, like, a world-renowned baker or something?” 

As soon as nearly half of the box was eaten by you, you mentally felt something hit you, like a pang. Though you couldn’t exactly discern what. You felt something, a lurch of it. A swell of happiness, a swell of being seen, a swell of not being alone, not anymore. “Jungwon?” you looked at him.

He leaned his weight against the wall in the front of you, taking one of his earpieces off, “Mm.”

“Thanks,” It was casual, but you meant it. You really did. He could read it from your eyes. He probably spent a lot of time making these, you thought. Then you realize that’s all he ever did to you; spend his time on you. 

He’s sincere. A troublesome rascal, definitely. But sincere. It’s funny how it took him to just make some homemade sweets for you to see and realize, “you’re not that bad.”

You don’t know if you left him speechless, but you walk down the hallway with him staring after you. Words left unspoken.

Something new had changed then.

You didn’t know what to call it. 

But it felt good.

… ᵉⁿᵈ ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ ↺

.

.

.

[ now playing ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ meet me at our spot by the anxiety ]

THE NEXT MORNING

[8:04 am] unknown number: hi good morning

[8:04 am] unknown number: it’s jungwon :)

[8:05 am] unknown number: i just wanted to wish u a good day

[8:06 am] unknown number: i’m really proud of u

Four text messages to ruin the start of your day.

And in addition, there it was: the exact familiar box of pastries on the desk you were at yesterday that morning.

You nearly got yourself nauseous at the sight.

Were you dreaming? 

Blinking it off, you snap out of it. You scoff, Jungwon was more shameless and a lot bolder than you thought. What was the box supposed to signify? ‘I’m proud of you’?, ‘I’m sorry’?, or an ‘I miss you’? Either way, you never knew Yang Jungwon could ever stoop so low.

Two years and the first thing he does is give you a box of sweets, was he thinking it’d pay back all the shit he pulled? Bribe you with sweets and suddenly everything would be okay?

Your resentment for him grew even more.

Anger was a better feeling to experience other than any of the other emotions.

At the side of your eye, you could see Jungwon. You pretend not to, and you try so hard. You don’t miss the glances he throws you, he was probably waiting for your response.

Surely, he should expect from you that the response was going to be nothing good. Does he know you at all?

Throwing it away seemed over the top, but you didn’t know what the rest of your options were. You hesitate, eating it would only make him believe that everything’s okay. And in case Jungwon didn’t get the memo: everything is not okay. 

This won’t hurt you.

You toss the box to someone else; your hands slightly freeze on its own for a moment when you realize Jungwon was watching. Only for a moment.

You weren’t taking his bait.

You didn’t want it.

You don’t look at him, and you don’t bother to see his reaction. Biting down your tongue, you jabbed your pen down the desk forcefully - you ignore the sense of guilt. He asked for it.

It takes a bit more effort to remain nonchalant this time.

Jungwon was getting in your nerves. Again.

.

.

.

LATER

You were dragged into a library group filled with people you barely knew of by Ningning and Seoyeon. You recognized Jake Sim from chemistry class, and a few others that you weren’t entirely confident you knew the name of. Jungwon was there. Of course, he had to be.

Though you were an expert at turning invitations and confessions down, you really weren’t much of the action type. Some would call you the ‘all bark, no bite’ type, but that was mostly because people who ensued and pressed on having it their way was just stubborn.

Most of your life, people went along your bark, it was rare that anyone went against it – but not impossible. Yang Jungwon.

The name flashes by your mind involuntarily as if it was a burn.

As if your mind works on its own, you find yourself staring at him – he paid no interest in the conversation as he mindlessly scrolled through his phone, bored. The only word he had ever said was when he had assertively stated that he wanted the seat that was close to yours. He had also joined the conversation and firmly voted against Jake sitting next to you. What a problem boy.

[02:44 pm] yang jungwon: u look good today

You were bored, but definitely not bored enough to be willing to immerse yourself into that mess.

You were entirely out of the group’s topic of conversation yourself, immersing yourself all in your head and thoughts until a girl named Naeun – you think – waggles her brows at you. “What about you, ms. ‘most-popular-with-guys’?”

“How many of them did you turn down this week?” Lee adds into it lightheartedly, poking fun.

Jungwon’s attention is immediately averted to you – and you hate that you can feel his gaze boring into your face.

You feel more uncomfortable than ever, trying to argue with them, “What? That’s not true—!”

Ningning’s eyes glint in mischievousness, taking in your denial as something you were embarrassed about as she joins into the conversation. But it wasn’t, not entirely. 

You were highly uncomfortable. “Don’t deny it. You’re more than just ‘popular’ with guys. I swear I saw with my own eyes at least two guys try and hit you up on this exact library alone from the past few days.”

You could hear chortled laughter from around you.

You know none of the voices belonged to or were from Jungwon.

You’d rather suffocate.

“I heard you were pretty popular with the guys during your high school years too!” Seoyeon chirped. You felt nauseated. Where did they even hear that information? You incredulously retorted to yourself.

“D’you date any of them?” Lun from literature class pipes in, interested. You feel your face turn hot against your will. “Any hotties you can introduce me to?” someone adds into it suggestively, clearly enjoying the topic of discussion.

Your face starts to sour, reeking of irritation.

“Ooh! I remember hearing Y/N dated a guy during high school. That’s probably why she wasn’t able to date much?” Ningning suggests, and you wanted to kick her out of the room. Was anyone just not able to pick out on social cues? Was everyone not able to notice how uncomfortable you looked?

Seoyeon’s eyes enlarged in alarm, “Y/N dated before?” Despite the distressing situation, you almost slipped out a laugh, you were always known for your strong dislike towards romance and men and you liked it that way. You guess the impression still hasn’t changed.

He’s in the exact same room right now, you wanted to spit out. Your face hardens, but you don’t say anything. 

“What’s the big deal? We were barely anything anyway.”

Ningning does not get your clue, instead, she looks more confused than ever. “Huh? From what I heard; you both were pretty serious.”

“You never told me anything about him,” Seoyeon complains, grabbing your arm and repeatedly swinging it around. With everyone’s attention on you, your usual ‘i-hate-everyone’ façade falls into dust.

You snort, keeping your tone casual, “About what? He was barely anyone special, in the first place.”

A bunch of unanimous curious ‘oohs’ were heard around the room. “Oohlala, spill. What made the relationship end?”

You take a thoughtful pause, as if it was the first time you were giving it thought, “He was selfish.” A shrug.

You ensure that the whole table hears your answer, especially him. Ningning scrunches her nose in distaste at your answer, “Ugh, typical. Boys really aren’t shit.”

“You’d give your entire world to them, and they decide that it’s not enough. Discontented assholes.” Lee comments with a bunch of insults thrown away without regard, and the Seoyeon pretends to vomit at the mention of boys. “Dirtbags. His loss,” is all she says.

You really don’t have any idea of what to do in this situation.

A strangled noise escapes Jungwon, and he covers it up with loud coughs. He looked like he’s just been badly burned, and you try to casually shift in your seat. The rest of the group takes it as a cue to ask him the same question as well, figuring he wanted to be included.

“And what about you, newbie?” Jake notices, an effort to try to get Jungwon to feel included. “Ever dated before?”

He stares blankly in response. A glance your way, and it takes a fraction of a second for you to avert your eyes away. You hope no one caught that. A moment. Or two. Until, “No, never.” Casually, with a helpless shrug before his attention was back on his phone. He doesn’t even regard that you were ever a part of his past.

Your insides clenches on their own.

That was it. The signal. You were back to being notoriously known for your cold behavior, good grades, and popular game with men, while Jungwon was back into his reputation of being a cute and care-free affectionate and loveable brat that would never do anyone wrong. 

Everything was back the way it started.

Rewind. A start over. Where Jungwon doesn’t get to see the nurturing, caring, childish, and mischievous side of you, and where you never got to see the depth to him: his coolness and his silence. The eyebrow lifts, his head-pats, his reliability, his loyalty, his promises, his stories, his determination – everything about him that everyone missed, that was simply nothing now.

We’ll never be those kids again.

Your phone buzzes.

[02:52 pm] yang jungwon: i figured u didn’t want them to know.

[02:54pm] yang jungwon: are you mad?

Both your eyes meet in the midst of the others bickering with each other.

All the remnants of history erased.

.

.

.

↻ … ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ

[ JUNGWON'S POV: 1 YEAR AGO ]

“I’ve been looking for you all night!” she skips, twirling in front of him, “What d’you think? I figured you might like this outfit.” She had an annoying voice, and was definitely way too clingy. Black long hair or something, honestly, any of the faces he’s seen were all only just blank and empty to him.

Jungwon doesn’t even regard her existence.

“C’mon ~” The girl drags, tugging at his arm. He doesn’t even know her name. He’s probably crossed by her more than a couple times with the way she was acting.

She was annoying. Not like you at all. No one was like you.

Jungwon was already in a sour mood. “You’ve been stuck at the couch all night, you lame-dummy!” She points a dragging finger to his chest, “No one wants to be a lame-dummy, c’mon, come with me! It’ll be fun,” she tries to persuade in a sing-song voice, inviting him in.

It doesn’t shake him by the least.

He shakes his head, shortly emitting a single scoff in irritation as he jerks away the hand on his shoulder. His tense facial features say everything. Without saying another word, he chooses to leave the room quietly and awkwardly without bidding goodbye to the other friends who invited him.

These parties were useless. Everything was useless. Every day was too boring and empty without meaning.

He had no place here.

This wasn’t where he belonged.

He damn well still belonged to that person he always has belonged to.

You.

… ᵉⁿᵈ ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ ↺

.

.

.

[09:12 pm] yang jungwon: hello bo ;]

[09:12 pm] yang jungwon: i hope u had a good day :)

[09:17 pm] yang jungwon: i’m always here if u need me

[09:17 pm] yang jungwon: just so you know 

[09:17 pm] yang jungwon: i’ll always be there

[09:20 pm] yang jungwon: and i hope i crossed your mind at least once..

read

.

.

.

A FEW DAYS LATER

You were beyond thankful to have Seoyeon around him to save yourself the awkward interactions.

She was the icebreaker. The only factor that allowed you to act as if Jungwon wasn’t there in the first place and ignore his existence. Given that she was an icebreaker, she was also clueless. 

She had no idea of the hatred you had for him - or the reluctance to look his way, much more interact with him. It wasn’t her fault, but you wish you rather didn’t have to explain the situation to her as the only option for her to stop trying to get you and Jungwon to talk.

“Wasn’t yesterday fun? It was nice having new people around,” she brings up as a conversation starter. Jungwon was minding his business working on his project on the side, the both of you had your free time. You politely smile at her, and you know it looks genuine. Explaining things to her wasn’t ideal – you shudder that the possibilities that would happen once you’d confess the situation.

Maybe Jungwon was a private secret of your past that you were never meant to bring up to those in your present.

“That reminds me, who’s the group you hang out with? We really should hang out more.” She slightly frowns before adding, “You’re really fun!”

“You too,” you add with a half grin, and you genuinely mean it. You kindly nod in agreement with a laugh, desperate to end the topic – but Seoyeon doesn’t cease her intent of giving up her first question.

She smiles at you expectantly as she awaits for an answer, and though you know she’s really just trying to make friends, if awkward topics were all that she was going to be bringing up around you, you would rather not converse with her at all. “Oh uh, that question,” you forced a laugh that comes out awkward, “no one else, really.”

Her lips form a small ‘o’ shape, apologizing for intruding. She softly gasps, alarmed, “Really? To be honest, I think it’s because everyone’s intimidated of you. It was until a few seconds ago that the whole campus figured you had countless of friend groups. Me included.”

You furiously shake your head at her, making a dreadful face in which she giggles at, “Oh God, no.” you comment, “it’s really just me,” you pause, “and Riki of course. Riki. Me and Riki. No one else. Kind of a loner,” you coughed out an awkward ramble, but Seoyeon never even seemed to mind.

“That’s cool, neither way! I get to have you to myself,” she teases lightheartedly as she links her arm around yours.

You were too flustered to notice that Jungwon had heard everything.

.

.

.

THAT EVENING

[10:21 pm] yang jungwon: hi love

[10:22 pm] yang jungwon: you must be tired i hope u rest up tonight :)

[10:22 pm] yang jungwon: i’ve really missed u

[11:49 pm] yang jungwon: goodnight love, sweet dreams :) ♡

read

.

.

.

By the next day, at the end of class, you’re forced to work with Jungwon at the library for the afternoon. Seoyeon was running late by fifteen minutes. This was the only time you didn’t mind.

The air is cold, and the tension was cutthroat, you could suffocate, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Starting a friendly conversation? Why even bother?

You decided to ask him straightforward the moment he tries to initiate conversation by asking you a question, cutting him off, “What are you pulling at?” you blankly stared at him, pokerfaced. Maybe you went off too aggressive, but his face slacks; he was definitely accustomed to your whole act of ignoring his existence, and probably never expected you to even spare a glance his way.

A long pause before he regains his composure, “What do you mean?” his voice is a lot quieter and controlled compared to the past. Now that you notice it, he’s changed in a lot of ways. He’s no longer the bright happy-go-lucky rascal that you were once familiar with. No longer the one who didn’t care about grades, but the one sitting beside you at one of the best universities. He’s … matured a lot.

“The messages?” cutting directly into it, your eyes narrowed on him, “what are you trying to pull at?” you interrogate him. Tell me lies. Tell me the truth. Tell me you’re leaving. Tell me you’re staying.

Surprise is written all over his face, catching him off gaurd, “They’re nothing,” he clears his throat, words getting caught in the midst of it. “I just thought … I, um,” he trailed off, avoiding direct eye contact.

Your hard gaze doesn’t falter, patience running thin. “Spit it out, Yang.”

He winces at your tone, and you wished you hadn’t seen that. “I just thought that you needed it. Not needed it exactly, but, well, I assumed - I wanted to let you know -” he doesn’t finish his sentence, but starts another one instead, “I just miss you,” he states, and he’s looking at you - you remember that kind of look. The kind of look that would once tug at your heartstrings.  

Once.

You don’t know what Yang Jungwon is pulling at.

Hm. 

You stare down hard at him - eyes narrowed, prospecting, judging, and surveying. You no longer tremble at his words. You don’t falter. Have you grown immune to them? Maybe you were sincerely and truly over him after all.

He was pulling at his charms. His thoughtfulness - the little aspects that’d make you believe that he actually cared; the things you so easily fell into. Not anymore. Not after you believed, once. 

Once was enough. It’s all a simple game to him, isn’t it?

The day you break down in front of him and let him hold the strings again would be the day you would die.

Not showing a flicker of emotion, you nonchalantly tsked, irritated, “Don’t bother again, will you?” 

Jungwon doesn’t say anything, but you feel his lingering stare.

Your settling glare on the textbook in front of you could burn holes. You let him go – you dismiss him, but he never leaves his spot.

Why does he always linger behind?

.

.

.

[01:03pm] yang jungwon: i don’t know if we should be alone together

read

.

.

.

[02:54pm] yang jungwon: i really can’t control myself when you’re around

read

.

.

.

[04:23pm] yang jungwon: i miss the old you

[04:26pm] yang jungwon: im sorry

read

How much was it going to take for you to admit that you felt the same?

.

.

.

[05:33pm] yang jungwon: just so you know i didn’t mean it that way

[05:33pm] yang jungwon: i just noticed that you’ve changed

[05:33pm] yang jungwon: of course you’ve changed

[05:35pm] yang jungwon: you don’t look at me the same anymore

read

.

.

.

[04:47am] yang jungwon: hi bo

[04:47am] yang jungwon: im sorry but i cant

[04:48am] yang jungwon: i really cant let you go

message delivered

.

.

.

A FEW WEEKS LATER

It didn’t take much for her to piece together. She noticed the pattern of behavior from you, your sour and aggravated persona, and Jungwon’s desperate efforts, then figured you were probably his ex.

“You know,” she clicks her tongue, “the thing about love and hate is that there’s a very thin line between them.”

She squints, fingers fiddling around with a penny as she tries to explain, “they’re two sides of the same coin.”

You made a face. She’s been going about this for hours and showed no sign of stopping. Whining, you turn her way, “what are you taking about this time?”

A grin. She raises both her brows in surrender, “You guys got a lot of unfinished business.”

You give her a look, unimpressed.

“The guy nearly snapped his head yesterday the moment he heard you laugh because he wanted to know what you were laughing about,” Seoyeon stares down at you steadily, provoked that you managed to toss the fact over too easily.

You throw her a crumpled piece of paper, and she easily dodges your throw. “Sure.” you snort, barely feigning any interest.

“Cut him some slack! He was your ex for goodness’ sake, some feelings for him still have to be there at some point. You can’t hate your ex that much without actually-maybe-probably loving them,” she singsongs teasingly. This was lighthearted, you knew, but. 

You deadpanned. Feelings. 

She has got to be serious.

Some feelings still have to be there.

Your heart didn’t feel anything.

Not anymore.

She stares at you in the silence, faking astonishment.

Her mouth forms a small ‘o’, “You’ve got to be serious.”

You only blink at her.

“Stop … don’t you feel anything for him anymore? Or is it like … nothing at all?” Of course, she was talking about him, you knew that - but why were you suddenly caught off guard? This was crazy.

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

No one has ever asked you this question.

How were you going to answer that?

You resented him.

You were angry. More than pissed.

You hated everything about him.

Your face scrunches up in disgust at the thought, but you answer her question after a pause, “One thing I know for sure,” you start casually, pausing in consideration, “is that I don’t want to see that annoying face of his again.”

You meant every word, this time.

You were willing to do whatever it took for that to happen.

At that moment, Seoyeon then concludes that the both of you had unfinished business. Jungwon was clearly not over you, anyone with a mile radius could see that. The boy was drop-dead crazy for you.

The more you try and repress feelings, the larger it grows.

How cliché does that sound?

She tilts her head to the side, glancing your way. But in a way, she knew it wasn’t one-sided, either.

.

.

.

[ now playing ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ all too well by taylor swift ]

↻ … ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ 

“Jungwon?” you whispered incredulously. Rubbing your eyes due to your half-asleep state, you leaned your frame against your door with your worry starting to alarm you awake. “What’re you doing here?”

Standing at your apartment door, your boyfriend appeared rugged, his eyes tired and drowsy. You noticed his clothes were still of what you saw him wear yesterday morning. your heart ached to see him in such a state, concluding he had spent the whole day producing, working, and overworking himself without rest. You hated whenever he did this to himself.

Seeing you frown, Jungwon pulls you to his embrace, wrapping you around his arms with a contented sigh, “Just wanted to see my baby,” he mumbles out incoherently, fighting through sleep, “I’ve missed you.”

.

.

.

You clung onto him, your face still at a cloudy state of haze – unreservedly astounded. Meanwhile on the other hand, Jungwon continues to laugh over your dumbfounded look. He pinches the sides of your cheeks, cooing over at you. As you try to wriggle yourself away, you found yourself embracing your figure back into his arms to squeeze his waist tightly in fear that he might disappear. He teases you at the action, lightheartedly calling you his little koala, but you don’t miss the endearing tone to his voice – or the way his breath hitches from your embrace.

“You’re here,” you managed to breathe out to yourself, burying your forehead against his neck. Squeezing your eyes shut, you desperately hoped to the gods above that the moment you opened them, everything wasn’t just going to turn out as another dream of yours. You could barely process much more comprehend what was going on, ‘he’s here, he’s here, he’s here’ were the only notions you could formulate by the slightest, chanting through your brainwork repeatedly for you to comprehend. Humorously, you didn’t wonder how he was possibly here, or why. He shouldn’t be - he was too busy. 

You didn’t think about the fact that he’s supposed to be halfway across the world working on his production, and definitely not here. Inhaling his scent, your ongoing worries and stress had seemed to evaporate, your form relaxing almost immediately. He smelled like home.

The loud chatters and distinctive outside noise from people passing by that surrounded the both of you, along the fact that the both of you were in a public place – all had seemed to drown out and appear forgotten. You clung to his warm figure after months of being apart, out of all the days you’d secretly dreamed about him surprising you, you never figured today was going to be that day. You clasped onto him even tighter, your smile growing wider by the second, it’s been quite some time since you ever felt half this happy.

He let out a low vibrating laugh with your face pressed against his chest, engulfing you tightly around his hold whilst swaying the both of you side to side. It was little moments and acts of efforts like these that mattered most to you. You drowned yourself at the rhythm and sound of his heartbeat that spoke the words the both of you already knew; he had missed you.

“I promised, didn’t I?”

.

.

.

Maybe you were always too busy for Yang Jungwon when the both of you dated.

Maybe that was it.

Maybe that was the reason why.

Or maybe he simply always seeking attention from you, constantly and childishly. He complained about you studying too much as he started sulking alone was, he wandered around the place ‘miserably’, while you were trying to place your focus on your book, refusing to give into him again.

A little later and he tossed the fact that he had to pick up some errands, and you volunteered to help accompany him since he mentioned that he’d only be out for a while.

But after picking up the things he had acquired through his errands, the rain was against your luck and poured heavily. You cursed at yourself, having brought no umbrella with you. Looking at Jungwon, you could judge immediately by then that he didn’t bring one as well.

“Running for it sounds pretty good,” you suggested with a beam on your face, but you noticed how Jungwon huffed in disagreement, not approving of the idea; worrying that the rain might get you hurt or sick as he starts pulling out deliberate excuses and reasons.

“It’s too slippery out in the rain, you might fall,”

“Car accidents happen more often in the rain,”

“You’ll get sick, can you afford to be sick at a time like this?”

You ignored all his protests when you decided to just audaciously leave the store entrance before walking into the rain without any given warning.

He doesn’t say anything, and when you glanced back at him in question, you immediately noticed how visibly irritated he was with you misbehaving and ignoring him. Jungwon was always overly protective over you.

Though you appreciated it, his over-protectiveness wasn’t something you exactly needed at this time of your mid-terms. You just needed to study, and Jungwon could simply work on his music. The place you were at wasn’t too far from home, so it wasn’t exactly too absurd to make a run for it. 

His eyes zeroed on you, giving no humor in his eyes, “Come back in here.”

You looked at him with fake-pleading eyes, “I left my notes back home,” you frowned.

“I don’t care. You are not getting sick.”

He wanted to sit the rain out, of course he did. But you didn’t know when the rain was going to stop, or if it ever showed any signs of stopping, in the first place. Just by your boyfriend’s tone itself, you knew you got yourself in trouble. That was not a good sign, he would always pull some crazy idea that would always try to teach you a lesson. 

You didn’t move an inch from your spot.

Jungwon hurdled at you once he realizes that you were being stubborn, wrapping his arms around your waist securely regardless of the hefty downpour of rain, “Step another foot further and I’ll make sure you’ll never be touching your beloved notes again.”

“Ugh, Yang Jungwon, are you crazy?” you argued, trying to untangle yourself from him but his firm grip wouldn’t let you go.

“Jungwon, I’m serious! I really need to study, I have my exams—!”

“Aish, you’d be on your deathbed, and you wouldn’t even think of me at all, you would only care about studying!” he contested nonsensically as he dramatically complains.

You scowled at his comment, your face souring as you try wriggling yourself out of his grasp even harder, “Yah, you rascal!”

“Come back inside and I’ll let you go,” he conditions, a small grin showing that he had won. You glower at him, but having no choice but to subit and wait the next two hours by the porch of the store for the rain to subside. He covers you by towering in front of you, ensuring that you weren’t going to get hit by the rain.

Jungwon was a lot of maintenance - a lot of people would say, but he was adorable.

And most of all, he was yours. 

… ᵉⁿᵈ ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ ↺

.

.

.

PRESENT [ JUNGWON'S POV ]

Jungwon spends the rest of his night at school fixing up your science project, without an ounce of sleep.

He finds Sunoo dropping by the room, slightly jumping in surprise at the sight of him there. He covers his chest with his hand, “What the hell are you doing here?” he lightheartedly scolds him.

But he pauses squinting at him, “Were you . . .” his eyes widen, “Dude, did you spend the entire night here?” he asks Jungwon, bewildered. “Doing . . .” he tilts his head, taking a peek, and his mouth hangs open as he finally pieces things together, “-Y/N’s science lab project . . .?”

Sunoo’s eyes almost budge out of his sockets. “Isn’t this what Y/N’s been worrying crazy about –? How did you –?”

He couldn’t exactly admit that he’s overheard you complaining about your project and begging others to help you with it miserably. He knew you always took your grades seriously, but, how could he explain this to Sunoo of all people?

Jungwon looks conflicted, immediately standing away from your project. He was finished wish it, anyway. He just needed to get here undetected by you. Kim Sunoo was a problem, however. There was no way Sunoo wasn’t not telling you about this.

“Don’t tell her I did this,” Jungwon tells him, reading Sunoo’s next moves.

His eyes dart from the project to Jungwon. He frowns, confused. “Why not?”

Jungwon hesitates with his words, being careful. “Just because. Don’t.” What the hell can he say? The bell rings, and he panics. 

“She has a hell of an ego, you know this. Tell her you fixed this or something. I don’t know. Make some shit up.”

He scurries out the lab but hangs behind at the entrance door for a few seconds.

Jungwon emphasizes what he’s told Sunoo. “I’m counting on you, bro.”

He slips away like a ghost.

Sunoo tells you that Ningning and Jake helped with your final lab project, and you believed it – eyes sparkling with relief and complete utter gratitude. You wondered how they got to finish the project in a day. They were the chemistry experts of the class, anyway – who were you to question them?

Sunoo sees Jungwon at the side of the room looking at you and your project. He watches him watch you. How happy you were with the project, and the endless showering of compliments. Was he really just . . . not going to tell you?

Sunoo takes a look at both you and Jungwon and scratches his head in utter confusion. What was going on with the both of you?

He has no idea what that boy is hiding.

.

.

.

A FEW DAYS LATER IN THAT WEEK

Jungwon really was getting in your nerves.

On your way to class, you did nothing but mind your own business when he swirls out of nowhere and pushes you aside, refraining you from entering the classroom. You furrow your eyebrows in annoyance, trying to wriggle away from his grasp, but his grip stays firm. He’s holding the sides of both your arms to let you stay in place, looking anxious and rushed. “Wait.”

“Yang Jungwon, what the hell?”

He tries to find words to say, but he can’t find any. “I . . . like the color of your hair. Did you dye it?”

Your stare is blank. “What?”

“I need recommendations. I might use it too, so –“

“This is my natural hair color.” you deadpan, without an ounce of friendliness, “now if you’ll excuse me –”

“No! Gah,” he lets out a frustrated noise, rushed, “. . . the speech report! I need help in –“

He was messing with you. He had to be.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to do,” you try to breathe in calmly, but you were talking through your gritted teeth. “You submitted your speech report last week,” you hissed, your patience running thin.

You finally wriggle yourself free from his grasp, and that was when the panic was evident in Jungwon’s features.

You barely get to move an inch before, “Do you still have hang-ups on me?” He rushes out of nowhere, an attempt of desperation.

What?

To say that you were at a loss for words was an understatement.

You freeze. Staring at him, dumbfounded.

Were you simply a joke to him?

What was he saying? He was desperate, willing to just have your attention anywhere else. You could not enter the room. That was his plan.

You were trying to regain composure. Clamping your jaw down hard, your eyes narrowed. “Please, kindly fuck off.”

You stalk away, pissed off.

As soon as he ensured that you were walking the opposite direction, and Jungwon heaves a small sigh of relief. At least.

He budges the door classroom open – the room he had noticed that a couple of asshats were trying to pull on harsh pranks on – and immediately, an old tray of leftover food spills from above, falling flat on the floor instead as Jungwon dodges it from anticipating this beforehand.

And you piece thing and thing together.

This was what he was driving you away from?

Because that could’ve been you.

His eyes settle on the group of bullies seated at the end of the room. He cracks his knuckles. Jungwon’s eyes have never been so deadly.

Jungwon comes in class later with a purple bruise coloring his upper left cheek, and a busted lip.

You don’t ask him the story, but instead, you assume the worst in him. Like you always do.

He’s up to no good.

He always was.

.

.

.

[08:12pm] yang jungwon: are you going?

[08:21pm] you: ?

[08:21pm] yang jungwon: oh hi love

[08:22pm] yang jungwon: are you coming to gyeonju tower tomorrow? i wanted to tell you in person today but you seemed like u were in a rush to leave

[08:24pm] you: ? what do you want

[08:25pm] yang jungwon: i wanted to explain things

[08:25pm] yang jungwon: and explain myself

read

[08:53pm] yang jungwon: i want to make things right

[08:54pm] yang jungwon: please let me, bo

[08:54pm] you: im busy.

[08:57pm] yang jungwon: i’ll be waiting for you tomorrow at 1pm

[09:00pm] you: i said im not going.

[09:02pm] yang jungwon: just one chance, please

[09:04pm] yang jungwon: one last one

read

You didn’t care, you weren’t going.

.

.

.

THE FOLLOWING DAY

You’ve decided that you wouldn’t go.

You won’t go.

You won’t go, end of discussion.

You spent the last night considering it until two in the morning. You’ve finalized your decision. “This is a no-brainer. Who does he think he is? I’m not giving him the satisfaction,” you rant morely to yourself - it was almost as if you werer trying to convince yourself instead.

You tug at the ends of your hair in frustration, hissing. Both Ningning and Seoyeon watches you in silent amusement after being told of the situation. The two were the only ones who knew about you and Jungwon, and the only two who you’ve been ranting to for the past two hours.

“I’m not going,” you repeat aggravatedly, exclaiming as you fling your arms. You pace around the room. 

Ningning languidly lazes around the chair as you frantically pace around the room, “So you’ve told us for the past forty six times,” she can’t help but comment, fighting away her grin. You scowl at her, grabbing the strap of your bag to sling it around your shoulder.

“You guys are annoying. I’m leaving.”

Both Seoyeon and Ningning stare after you, waving you goodbye at your stressed state.

Ningning props herself up with her elbows, leaning her cheek with the palm of her hands as soon as you’ve left the room. She stares at Seoyeon, who was mindlessly scrolling through her phone, “She’s definitely going, isn’t she?”

Seoyeon tosses the bag of chips that she’s been hogging Ningning’s way - which she accepts immediately, munching down on the ones on her palm with disinterest, “Yep.”

.

.

.

LATER, 1 PM

You tug awkwardly at your sleeve, eyes searching for a certain figure in mind as they bunglingly dart around the place.

So, maybe you really did end up going to the tower. Just to check things out. That was it. And maybe see if he was there. If he really showed up. Hear what he wanted to say if it was important. Nothing more. You felt bad just leaving him alone - you weren’t like him, intentionally leaving someone on for hours to wait for you. 

You had a conscience. You simply showed up because you didn’t want to be burdened by it. 

You don’t know how long you waited on the first half of the period under the heat of the sun from the tower, but by the time you take out your phone to check the time, it was half past one in the afternoon.

Tick-tok.

Tick-tok.

You stare at your phone’s lock screen, expecting a text from Jungwon to pop up any second to inform you that he was probably running late. Anything.

An hour passes by.

You figure you’d give him another thirty minutes. Just another thirty minutes. If he wasn’t going to show up, you didn’t care anymore. You would leave.

It was past 30 minutes.

Another hour passes by.

Until rain starts to lightly drizzle.

Until clouds start to darken.

Until your legs start to ache.

And until you were soaking and clothes drenched with water in the pouring heavy rain.

Again.

Until it dawns on you.

Jungwon isn’t here.

He wasn’t coming.

He was never going to.

And there you were, standing alone stupidly – a fool. A fool who never learned her lesson after two years.

He was enjoying this; toying with you, he’s got to be.

You don’t know why you really expected anything else from him.

A heavy exhale.

You don’t know why you hoped you did.

.

.

.

You get a call from Jungwon by the evening. You were dumbly weak enough to easily get manipulated to answer the phone.

He sounded frantic, “Hello? Y/N? I’m so sorry, I wasn’t able to attend our meet-up. I’m - I’m really sorry, I was really planning to go -” You wish you could believe him.

“Yeah. It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” you sound too monotone for your words to sound like you meant them.

“I’m so sorry that you waited on me, I promise I’ll make it up to -” No more promises. No more, Jungwon. I can’t take anymore.

You harshly cut him off, oppressive. “What do you mean? I didn’t come. I told you I won’t, didn’t I?”

You still had your dignity. Lies were all that you had left. You’d lie just for Jungwon to not get that sense of satisfaction from you. You wouldn’t let him.

He is silent, “Yeah, I know.”

You inhale, vexed. Your eyes flicker around the room, feeling flighty with apprehension. “What’s up, anyway? What held you from coming?” you made an effort to sound as casual as possible bringing it up, as if you didn’t care. As if you didn’t spend the whole afternoon drenched in pouring rain waiting for him.

A long silent pause again. You could tell he was hesitating to answer.

He tries to let out a lighthearted laugh as he waves it off, "It’s nothing.” 

It was nothing, again. It’s always nothing. Were you ever something - anything - to him?

It takes a moment for you to register his response. How effortlessly care-free he was about it. Your tone appears tight, “Okay. Well, it’s good that you weren’t able to go. I wasn’t there anyway.” You didn’t know what else to say other than stressing that you never came. That you didn’t care.

Lie.

“Oh,” is what Jungwon replies with, he sounded distracted - like his mind wasn’t in the conversation. He wasn’t interested in talking to you anyway, why did he bother calling? 

You grit at your teeth, “I’m not a fool, Jungwon.”

You don’t know if he’s even listening to you, you start to question. It takes long for him to respond, “I know.”

He was being as short with his responses as ever. Was this what he called explaining himself? You doubt if he ever cared about making it up to you in the first place. You try to hide your disappointment in your tone with impatience, “Is that all? I’m gonna go now. I’m busy.”

You don’t wait for his reply.

You immediately end the call and toss your phone as far as you could.

You hope that was worth it for Jungwon.

.

.

.

[ JUNGWON’S POV ] . . . what really happened

Jungwon woke up three hours earlier that day.

When Jungwon was getting himself dressed, a boy from across the city was still sleeping through his alarm that he wasn’t able to set the night before. Meanwhile, a girl was waiting somewhere in the city’s lobby, waiting for her boyfriend to pick her up.

While that happened, Jungwon was on his way to a jewelry shop to buy you a gift. He was beyond excited to see you. The boy from across the city was still sleeping, but the girl’s boyfriend eventually came to pick her up. On the other side, Jungwon had forgotten his credit card, and had no other option to pay by cash.

By this time, the sleeping boy’s mother barges into the boy’s room to wake him up as he was late for class – and asking him if he spent another late night playing with his friends. The girl in her boyfriend’s car receives a text from her ex while her boyfriend stops by to pick up the cake they ordered for their anniversary.

Jungwon was nearly at the Gyeonju tower when the boy who was running late for class stumbled out of the house, got on his bike, and peddled as fast as he could. The girl was already texting her ex-boyfriend by this time, and before she could tuck her phone away as soon as her boyfriend got into the car, the boyfriend had caught her already.

All the while the couple slowly started to argue about her talking to her ex, Jungwon was stuck in traffic and anxiously waiting – frustrated. Though he had more than an hour to spare, he wanted to see you as quickly as possible. This was the moment of his life that meant most to him. The boy who was running late took a wrong turn because he was not on the right state of mind, still half-asleep.

The couple argued all the way to the girlfriend’s parents’ house while the boy in the bike running late was trying to find his way out of the unfamiliar place, completely flustered. Jungwon had already arrived at Gyeonju tower, parking his car before trying to fix up his hair. He never really cared about how he looked like, but Jungwon’s nerves were jittering. This was the first time he was so anxious to see you.

And finally, at the same time, the boy was too distracted to see the couple’s car in front of him – as well as the couple, as they were still too busy arguing. Jungwon had just gotten out of the car, crossing the road.

It all happened too quickly.

If the son had set his alarm the day before and wasn’t running late for his class, if the girl hadn’t picked up the call from her ex-boyfriend, if couple hadn’t been arguing while the boyfriend was driving, or if Jungwon didn’t take his time in the car mirror trying to make sure he looked good for you - then maybe he would’ve gotten to meet you that night.

Maybe he wouldn’t have gotten into that car accident.

Maybe none of this would’ve be happening right now.

Life is a series of multiple interactions, they said.

The next situation Jungwon finds himself in was lying still – unable to move – in the hospital emergency room with blood – his blood? – covered all over his clothes, and when he gains the smallest bit of energy to barely open his eyes, he feels like he’s lost everything all over again.

In spite of all the events, he remembers you.

Your smile.

And his promise.

But he blacks out.

.

.

.

The moment Jungwon awakes into consciousness, his first thought isn’t what he was doing in an emergency room hospital, all alone. It isn’t wondering why he had blood all over his clothes, or why his body physically hurt too much for him to move.

His first thought was you.

His first thought was always going to be you. Where were you? What-? He sees the small bag settled beside him, squinting at it - before realizing it was for you. For the meeting. Today. Shit. In less than half a second, he ignores the pins and needles of his skin feeling like it was being stretched out just to reach his phone and dial your number. 

“Hello? Y/N? I’m so sorry, I wasn’t able to attend our meet-up. I’m - I’m really sorry, I was really planning to go -”

Your tone interrupts him midway, seemingly clipped and tight. “Yeah. It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” were you mad? Guessing by the tone of your voice, you seemed upset. Lord, he begged for that one chance you gave him and he had to go through this out of all the occasions?

You pinches the bridge of his nose after running a hand through his hair, cursing inwardly. How many more chances could you give him? You would never believe him ever again. “I’m so sorry that you waited on me, I promise I’ll make it up to -” 

Your response hits him right in the gut, harder and more painful than any of the stitches and bandages he had being freshly reopened. “What do you mean? I didn’t come. I told you I won’t, didn’t I?”

His throat constricts, eyes lowering as the grip on the phone tightens, “Yeah, I know.” He hangs his head low. 

You shrug it off with disinterest, your tone indifferent. “What’s up, anyway? What held you from coming?”

He hesitates, glancing down at the patches of bandages and stitches. He doesn’t try to explain. He doesn’t want you to know. What could he say to cover things up? He tries to avoid sounding suspicious with a lighthearted laugh, “It’s nothing.”

God, it sounded fake.

Your indifference rings through his mind over and over again. Did you really not care about him anymore? Did you really mean it when you said you weren’t going to go? A sharp stab in the heart each time the thought rings through him.

A pause.

“Okay. Well, it’s good that you weren’t able to go. I wasn’t there anyway.”

“Oh,” was all Jungwon could respond with, he was beginning to feel dizzy - overwhelmed and exhausted. A sharp buzz rang deaf through his ears.

The room started to spin as you continued through the call – unaware, “I’m not a fool, Jungwon,” you remind him. Was it really the end?

Has he finally lost you?

He doesn’t know what to say, but he couldn’t deny the fact that it hurt. Everything hurts. Fuck. A long pause, “I know.”

“Is that all? I’m gonna go now. I'm busy,” you harshly end things, not bothering to expant the conversation or on the details. You don’t push him. You don’t care.

The line went dead.

A piece of him along with it died too.

Jungwon sits at one of the emergency room’s beds alone and he realizes that the hospital could heal all his physical wounds and scars, but he doesn’t think the internal pain he’s feeling could be treated.

A nurse that was passing by finds him passed out, unconscious, and unresponsive only long minutes later.

.

.

.

A WEEK LATER

Initially, you had planned to keep away from Jungwon at all costs the moment classes started again. He could suffer all he needed.

But.

You don’t see Jungwon.

Not that you cared if he was around - it was a relief to you that you didn’t have to deal with him, but didn’t you .. deserve an explanation? 

No.

That’s right. An explanation from Jungwon for ditching you was something you would never get. That hasn’t changed, and you were a fool for believing otherwise. 

You repeatedly sneak glances by his desk - anywhere, for a sign of him. It was useless to ask anyone else. His friends? When had Jungwon ever tried talking to somebody that wasn’t you? 

Not that you ever took notice, either. 

It’s been a week.

Seconds tick by slowly, and lectures drag in what seems like hours. It comes to the point where you almost decide on texting his number and demanding where he was. It took every part of yourself to manage to not do so.

Your notifications remained empty this time.

No messages. No calls.

He’s gone again.

.

.

.

THREE WEEKS LATER [JUNGWON’S POV ]

With a fractured arm and multiple wounds and stitches, Jungwon had to opt to wait three weeks before he was able to attend classes again.

He only looks forward to seeing your face.

To explain everything to you.

He messed up again.

Maybe you were looking for him? It’s been three weeks, maybe you had wondered for a fraction where he went all of a sudden? Maybe you were worried? Maybe you were concerned? Or maybe you didn’t care? Maybe you were celebrating right now?

He flinches that the thought. 

He spots you by the hallways after his hour long search around the campus. You barely looked bothered at all. That was fine, Jungwon reminded himself. He walks his way towards you with the gift he had bought you weeks prior, when the accident had happened. The gift he had protected with his life to save, and had held on for weeks to give to you. If he wasn’t going to explain things, he at least wanted to give you the gift he had picked for you. 

He thinks you’d look pretty in it. 

However, as soon as he tries to open his mouth to speak to you once he was close enough for you to hear him, you coldly ignore him entirely. You pack up your things once you hear the bell, ringing just in time for classes to start. You barely even spare him a single glance.

You walk past him like was invincible.

Like you couldn’t care any less of what happened to him.

It turns out, you were never worried at all.

That fucking him hurt more than being hit by a car a hundred times ever did.

.

.

.

[01:24 pm] yang jungwon: im sorry

[01:29 pm] yang jungwon: can we talk?

[read]

You blocked yang jungwon’s number that day.

.

.

.

[JUNGWON . . . ]

Seoyeon made you laugh.

It was unintentional, he guessed. But she made you laugh. In a way. Other’s might’ve called it a snort. It was a goofy side-comment he made when you expanded the instructions on the chapter needed to be finished. He felt himself destructing and freezing while his heart soared and ripped itself apart. He swore he was flying while being drowned six feet under at the same time.

As someone who spent his entire life on music, Yang Jungwon has heard many sounds. Various melodies and tunes, but none of them were like yours. He’s been walking around tone-deaf for the past few years because it was like he forgot the way your laugh sounded and the way it made him feel like he could do anything.

It was like you immediately regretted it - laughing with him in the room, and maybe his emotions were written all over his face because Jungwon was losing you all over again when you disclose your emotions off once again from him. Then he’s all but greeted with a cold face - an effect of the mess he caused.

He remembers the time where you were his to call, and now, you couldn’t even stand to look at him - or be in the same room as him. He remembers the time where you would look at him and the way your eyes would light up, and now, he looks at your eyes for a fraction of a second and they’re dead. Once vibrant and easy to read - now empty and desolate. Nobody is home. They’re emotionless for him.

Your eyes only tell lies now.

You’ll never be like the way you used to be again.

To think that he ruined it. That he ruined a smile that ran so deep and had so much meaning. A smile that was always for him. A soul that had so much love and kindness for him. He shattered that. That was because of him.

He remembers the time where receiving ‘I love you’s from you were everyday like routines to you, and he compares it with the flash irritation that would cross your face and the petty tone of anger he would get from you every time he tried talking to you. 

You’ve changed.

He doesn’t know what those two years have done to you.

What he’s done to you.

Maybe he really messed it up. Maybe he should run and leave and never see you again so he would stop hurting you and fucking you up over and over again. Maybe he should let you move on and let you be happy with someone else. Maybe he should just stop hoping because the gods above know that they don’t trust him with you alone. 

It was killing him.

Jungwon couldn’t do any of that.

Getting to see you every day - it was already much of a blessing compared to the two years in the shithole he went through without you, waking up to feel nothing but empty - if it’s not endlessly torturing and tormenting himself for putting you through what he had to. 

But couldn’t Jungwon be a little selfish? Just this once? Couldn’t he ask for a little bit more?

If Jungwon could admit, he never wanted much, nor has he asked for much either. To say the truth, he doesn’t care about ninety percent of his life: fuck his gods be damned ‘career’, fuck air and water and happiness and money. 

Yang Jungwon was someone that had no interest in the world. He never really got to care about anything. But you. He met you. You were his first. You were all he cared about. You were all that really mattered.

And that was his world.

You were his world.

It’s been two years since he lost you - since he let you go for good, and that was worse than dying. Each moment was as if it was meant to come back at him and break his soul - or whatever’s left of it. All Yang Jungwon gives a damn about is you. 

He was damn well still in love with you, and he was never getting you back.

He’s lost you.

And the separating distance between the both of you proves it better than anything.

.

.

.

[ now playing ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ hold me while you wait by lewis capaldi ]

↻ … ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ

THE TWISTING POINT

.

.

.

Jungwon wasn’t in a good mood today.

It was most likely because of work, so you didn’t want to question or pressure him into dwelling into it any further. You stayed smiling, knowing that whenever you were down, Jungwon knew exactly what to do. He needed sunshine.

You hear glass shatter, and loud clanging accompanied with it. You sprang upwards, racing to Jungwon’s aid to check yourself if he was hurt.

As you stared at the mess created, and the person who seemingly intentionally created the mess, you only stood by the doorway. 

You knew him, he wasn’t the type to let his anger consume and get the best of him, nor was he the type to physically express his anger. Especially around you. Jungwon loved the idea of you seeing him as a laid-back unique oddball, and you’ve rarely ever seen him irritated or angry. You’ve never seen him like this, however. 

You remained silent; your gaze downcast. Whatever happened in the studio today must have been seriously rough enough to affect him into a state like this. 

The room is too silent. “Won?” He loves being called that name; he’s told you. It gets him erupting with happiness in no time, but why isn’t it working now? 

Why does Jungwon’s eyes look so empty?

“Can you leave?” he asks you when you try to help clean up the broken shards of glass, finally uttering a word after the first time you’ve seen him today. 

“I don’t need you here right now.”  

Jungwon sees the way you freeze. The way confusion flashes over your face. The way your hopeful and gentle eyes crack by a fraction.

Jungwon sees it all.

You purse your lip in hesitation, worried, but you follow his request with a nod nonetheless as you quietly slip out of the room. I’m always here for you if you need me.

Jungwon feels nothing but emptiness.

.

.

.

“Jungwon, you’ve missed two meals.”

He’s stuck in his music room. Again. Your lips pull into a forming frown at his state, placing the plate of food that you’ve organized for him at a table nearest to you. 

He only gives you a glance before his attention is back at his music, “I’m kind of busy here,” he blandly reminds you the obvious, and you feel yourself mentally deflate, a bit. 

A pause. You sucked in a breath. “I know, but you shouldn’t skip meals, okay? Take some rests,” you keep your voice gentle, hopeful. 

He barely gives a grunt in reply.

Why didn’t you see that he didn’t want you anymore then?

You swallow, trying in another attempt, “Um, do you need any help in -” Jungwon swivels his chair abruptly, turning completely at you. It’s the first time you see him look at you in a while, “No,” the look in his eyes is something you’d never forget, “I’m fine, Y/N.” And when he turns his back on you, you feel a jab in the gut. 

Ah.

You get the message.

You weren’t wanted around.

“Okay, I’ll uhh … I’ll …” you don’t finish your sentence, merely signaling that you were going to leave, but well aware that Jungwon was already back facing his screen. You don’t think he notices. You don’t think he ever notices anything at all.

No response. Not even a glance your way.

You felt so lonely.

.

.

.

Jungwon was going out again, as he’s all done for the past week.

Maybe you were overthinking all of this, but you felt as if he was doing whatever it took to avoid you. To avoid looking at you. To avoid talking to you. To avoid spending time with you. Of course, it was all in your head. 

He would never hurt you like that, Jungwon was just busy. He was just going through things. He had it rough, you should be considerate.

It was just you alone most of the time, and you started to wonder if he was doing fine. If he needed you, at all.

“Jungwon?”

He turns to you, his body almost out of the door. “Are you okay?” you gently ask him.

He blinks. “I’m fine,” he replies after a pause.

You wanted to help him, whatever he was going through. You wanted to go through it with him together — you wanted to be there for him. “You don’t seem fine,” you try to start, “Jungwon, I’m here for you, you can talk to me if you—”

An exasperated sound of displeasure cuts you off, like a tether piecing everything together that snaps. “Can’t you do anything else other than bother me?” he waves you off, slamming the door in visible distress. He leaves you like that, and he doesn’t have to say anything else to make the wound hurt all the more.

The words left unsaid were enough.

He doesn’t come back the next day.

You wished he’d have told you how he loved you before he left, even if he didn’t mean it.

.

.

.

The air was cold. You know that it was not because of the weather.

Your mind wanders.

Sometimes you consider the fact that there could be someone else.

You wonder where everything started to change, and somedays, the thoughts get heavy and immensely difficult for you to carry. Sometimes they hurt too much to think about. You can’t help but wonder where your love lacked for him, in where you gave him everything. Even if it costed more than you could afford, it was worth it. But was it not for him? Was it not anymore?

It’s hard to fight what was fated.

But you would’ve still ruined yourself to fix him.

Even if there was another person, you think, you just wished he told you - so you would stop foolishly hoping and trying to convince yourself that this was all a sick phase of his that would eventually pass. So, you would stop foolishly assuming that there was ‘together’ and ‘forever’ for the both of you. You wouldn’t insist on it anymore, if that’s what made him happy. Watching him torture himself like that and choosing not to say anything to you was more painful than anything else.

You knew you were not the one in his heart.

This was all going to pass, right?

Jungwon, talk to me.

.

.

.

Jungwon can make it better.

He always has. You could never remember a time where he didn’t come to swoop in and save your day.

Was this the timing in where you realize that things were permanently going to change?

A simple month changes you a lot.

You believed, but you were slowly losing the light.

You gave so many signs.

So many warning signs.

He walked past every single one of them.

You couldn’t be the only one fighting for something that was already gone. Something that was thrown away and given up on. Because you have been, for as long as you can, and you don’t know if you can still continue to allow yourself to put yourself through it - because you don’t know if you can take it. Even if it was just one last time.

But still, you were willing to offer him anything he wanted the moment he needed it. You were ready to run to his side even if it killed you. Waste my time, waste it all.

The painful fake smiles, and pretending if everything was perfectly fine, as if you were okay, and the desperate pair of eyes that he always seemed to ignore.

You don’t know when it would stop.

You could only wish he would stay a bit longer to savor before he was going to make it hurt for you.

You felt the fatigue, then.

It’ll get better soon.

.

.

.

THE BREAKING POINT

It was all about him.

You don’t know if you could take this any longer.

“Jungwon?” you called out to him - through the empty house, “I’m tired.” Faintly.

You were washing the dishes after immediately arriving home from your part-time job. No time for giving yourself a rest, or for catching up on the upcoming exam the next day. It was eleven o’clock at night. You heard the door slam, and you knew Jungwon was home.

He could mope around and throw things around. He was entitled to treat you harshly because he was going through a rough time. He could do absolutely nothing. That was how everything worked.

But you couldn’t. You couldn’t cry. You couldn’t pause and rest. You weren’t entitled to feel angry or irritated because you weren’t going through whatever he was going through. You had to take care of him, and you had to endure getting treated that way our you could leave and walk through the door.

The shuffling of footsteps stops. You don’t move. You leave the faucet water running, eyes staring distantly - somewhere. But you don’t look over at him. You know that the courage that you’ve spent months trying to build up would come crashing down the moment you do.

There is no noise, only the running of the water. You know he’s listening.

“I can’t do it anymore,” you bat an eye, and your shoulders ease up a little. There is a certain stillness in the air.

“I feel like I’m just wasting my life in this relationship,” you’ve thought about this. You’ve tried to shrug the feeling off, but you wanted to know if you wanted to fight for him too. “I’m always looking stupid. I’m always left behind,” Isn’t it exhausting for you too, Jungwon? 

Nothing. Silence. No response. 

He wasn’t pushing you.

He wasn’t begging you to stay, like he always did.

He wasn’t going to even just try to change your mind.

He’s letting you go.

That infuriates you further, and you hate that he’s making you feel like you’re being too unreasonable without having to say anything. You hate the words he’s saying to you without even him having to open his mouth. Silence is all you’ve been receiving, hasn’t it? It’s always turning his back. It’s always the cold shoulder, whatever he had to say - he wouldn’t say it. It’s always been that way. Itwas always you that had to adjust. 

You hated this.

You hated this so much.

It was him leaving you alone to your degrading thoughts that would break you more than he ever can, “It’s all about you. It’s all just about your sufferings, isn’t it? It’s all just yours!” 

Why wasn’t he stopping you?

Why wasn’t he trying to fix this?

You wanted him to explain himself and assure you that everything was going to be okay. You wanted to work this out. Good God, you did. More than anything. But what happened to the day when you missed the most important exams for him just because he was too in his head to take care of himself? Where was he? What was he doing? Where was he when you were called to the school’s office because you were nearly falling off school? Where was he when you cried countlessly from overwhelming stress because of that?

Where was he when you were pacing back and forth at four in the morning without a wink of sleep, waiting for him to come back home and wondering to the heavens what the hell had happened to him? Where was he when you felt so isolated and alone? Where was he when your parents turned your back on you for you giving up everything for a boy who already seemed to have given up on you? Where was he to fight for you? Where was he to look you in the eye and give you a reason to keep fighting - to stay?

Jungwon was going through shit. That was something you understood. Something you wished he never went through, something you know he doesn’t deserve. And you were there for him. Every step of the way. But that didn’t mean that you had it all easy, either - did it? Didn’t he know? Or did he just not care? 

You wanted to work this out. But … did he?

Soft, too soft. You could barely hear. “So desperate,” it was murmured. A pause, a shift in movement, and he was gone. 

He was gone. He walked away. Like it meant nothing to him.

It stays, lingering. But he leaves.

You can’t believe him.

So monotone.

So emotionless.

Like it doesn’t mean anything.

He breaks you.

You crack open.

He doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t fight for you. He doesn’t feel anything for you. He doesn’t find a reason to stay. 

He finds a reason to leave.

That was it. And you weren’t even sure if he said it. Maybe it was a flicker of your imagination. Maybe you were going insane, was what it was. Did he leave?

He couldn’t have.

It was the end.

End.

The end of the both of you.

After that end, there was … nothing.

It was the end?

Your weight leans against the counter table in support, breathing heavily. Your heartbeat racing, your mind processing. A minute passes by, and you still stand frozen.

No. The stillness was too much to handle, you needed Jungwon, even if the only words he was ever going to say to you would hurt. You stumbled, rushing after the door as you tried calling after him. You didn’t want him to go. You couldn’t let him, you won’t give up on him. You needed him there. You were tired, and you needed Jungwon.

“Jungwon.” Where was he off to the moment you finally told him how you were feeling? Was it a mistake? Should you have stayed quiet instead?

“I didn’t mean what I said, come back and we’ll talk this out,” you called after him. You would take it all back.

He was gone. 

You turned, and you turned, and you hoped. Nothing. Pitch black. Darkness.

“Jungwon?” you were crying now, crumbling a little. “Jungwon, I’m sorry, please come back, please.” you begged. And you kept calling him, until even the gods above could hear you. But where was he? No, he was going to come back for you. He was. 

He was going to explain that he was sorry and that he never meant to hurt you. He was going to pop up right next to you like he always used it. He was going to smile at you with a cheeky grin and make fun of how you fell for his sick joke. He was going to give you a reason to stay and you were going to be okay.

“I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry,” you shouted after him, numbly trying to follow his footsteps that weren’t there. Footsteps that were erased. The footsteps of someone who promised he’d never leave your side. It was pathetic. Your desperation was pathetic.

Where did he go? Which way did he go? Please show up. Please. Please.

You shivered at the cold. Why was it raining so hard? You could barely see a thing. It was too dark. Not a single light in sight. You didn’t even realize it was raining. But it didn’t matter. You wouldn’t go home until Jungwon was back. And safe. Everything will be okay.

Moments pass and you don’t know if it took hours. Jungwon wasn’t there and you were losing him the way you were losing yourself. “Please,” your voice came out a whisper as your legs gave up on you, falling into your knees, “come back to me,” your body shakes, and that was the end. 

All you were left with was the memories. 

The both of you were nothing but memories now.

Ended because of happenstance.

He was still gone the next day.

And the next.

And the next after the next.

And the week after.

And the month after.

And after that.

You waited.

He promised.

You believed.

Ah.

You felt it, then.

The light you held onto exhaled and took its last breath.

Expired.

When things are expired - when things pass its due date, no matter how much big of a waste it is, or how much you were looking forward for it; you can only throw it away.

Because your relationship wasn’t the only thing gone and lost to disappear that day. It wasn’t only him - or it wasn’t the one thing you cared most about. It was you. You came along with it. You; a simple crumpled worn-out paper thrown away. A rough draft. Scrapped and forgotten. 

He wasn’t coming back. 

… ᵉⁿᵈ ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ ↺

.

.

.

[ now playing ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ skin by sabrina carpenter ]

PRESENT TIME, THE FOLLOWING DAY

The group was chatting with each other as usual. You were with Ningning and Seoyeon, catching up with the latest most random topics while you were making it a point to ignore Jungwon’s longing stare. Until Jake Sim takes a glance his way and points out of nowhere, “What happened to your arm?”

He immediately replies, “Nothing.”

When you sneak a glance over at Jungwon’s arm, he catches you and straight away tucks his arm away from your side’s view as casually as possible. Why did he have bandages? Your brows furrowed at him, skeptically surveying him.

What was he hiding this time? 

.

.

.

It was in the middle of individual study period when Ningning queries out of nowhere, “Y/N, Is Jungwon trying to win you back?”

A few glances your way at the sudden uplifting noise through the quiet room.

You almost choke. You wish you did. “What?” Loudly whispering, you snap your head over her direction, eyes blazing down at her incredulously.

“He isn’t?” Seoyeon pipes in, questioning incredulously, all the more surprised than you. The both of them were never going to let her newfound discovery of exes that were quote “fated back together” end quote. You stare blankly at the both of them, unamused.

She shrugs innocently. “He looks like it,” she answers her own query and peeks over his way. Explaining, she heaves a casual exhale, “He keeps looking over at you every five seconds with those starry hopeful eyes as if you’d change your mind.”

Your face hardens at the mention of it. You hadn’t told what happened between you and Jungwon to anyone. Once both Seoyeon and Ningning had asked for the details of what happened, you simply brushed it off, not wanting to talk about it. They had assumed something went wrong.

Whatever Seoyeon had in mind to be out of a romantic film - this wasn’t the case. You had no idea what he was up to, but it was most probably something that would put up some entertainment to aid his boredom before he fleets away again. 

She playfully nudged you with the edge of her elbow, “So, what made you dump him?”

She laughed. Loud. She was talking quite too casually that you speculated Jungwon could hear the conversation. His head was bowed, supposedly reading. You couldn’t read his facial features. You don’t want to.

“Poor dude, he looks like he’s had it rough.” Of course, everyone would assume it was Jungwon who was dumped. That it was him who was hurting. That it was him who got the mistreatment. You were the bad guy. In the end it’s your fault.

A chill runs down your spine. You dumped him? You almost laugh aloud in sarcasm, but it comes out as a snort. Waving her off teasingly, you motion the both of them to shoo away, “Shove off.”

Seoyeon gives a toothy beam before scribbling something down her notebook, Ningning peeks over to read it and giggles. You barely catch a glimpse of it.

‘Where there is anger, there is always pain underneath.’

.

.

.

LATER, AT THE LIBRARY

Another day. That meant another meeting with both Jungwon and Seoyeon in the library. After long hours, the group meeting was finished. All there was left to do was to submit the chapter’s draft for corrections to the professor; it had been decided already that Seoyeon and Jungwon were to do it.

You were leisurely taking your time packing up your stuff when Seoyeon hurriedly scurries out on her way to exit the library. “Hey, Jungwon, I’m really busy today, so I can’t accompany you to pass the papers. I just realized I have soccer practice,” she forms her lips into a pout, faking a thought. It occurs to you then that Seoyeon doesn’t have varsity. 

Your eyes narrow at where this was going. “What about ask Y/N to do it? She has nothing to do anyway!” she winks, lightheartedly hitting Jungwon’s arm. He was taken aback, looking confused and somewhat lost himself, but having no choice left other than nodding, he agrees. “Uh . . . sure.”

Seoyeon turns your way and wiggles her eyebrows suggestively at you as soon as Jungwon had himself distracted with the papers in the meantime, giving you a thumbs up as if to say ‘you can do this!’ before slipping out of the room - faster before you could protest.

You scowled darkly, clenching down your jaw. If looks could kill. That girl.

On the other hand, Jungwon continues to arrange the pile of papers with a shuffle before quietly handing them to you, he then started on packing up his things. It was suffocating. Would leaving the room make it seem like you lost this nonexistent battle between the both of you? 

He cuts you out of your trance of thoughts, “You were there that day at the tower, weren’t you?” he asks you out of the blue. He doesn’t even look your way as he stuffs a few books in his bag, and he doesn’t have to give context for you to know what he was referring to. not a look of uncertainty was evident in his eyes, “I know you were.”

Anger starts to boil inside. You have to remind yourself that this is what he wanted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you casually dismissed.

He inwardly huffs out a breath. “Was it tough for you?” he changes the topic, and you swear it was only a matter of time before he gives you the biggest whiplash.

You were raging with endless anger and fury, yet you keep your face was void of any emotions – standing in front of him as his form blocked your path, stressing you even further. You gripped the strap of your backpack tightly, “Move out of my way, Jungwon.”

“Answer me, first.” he pleads with you. “Was it tough for you, then?”

He doesn’t budge and stubbornly remains rooted to his spot.

You grit your teeth, ripping apart your poorly concealed anger bit by bit. Jungwon didn’t care. He wanted you to feel emotion. Any emotion. Even if it was blinding rage. To scream at him and punch the living lights out of him. It was better than receiving your blank emotionless stare all the time. He couldn’t take it.

He was definitely testing your patience carelessly. Was it tough for you? You laughed humorlessly. A stab to his gut. A knife filled with poison. “I don’t know what you want, but let’s be mature people here. You do whatever hell you’ve been doing the last two years, and I’ll continue do the same. Okay?” you spoke, your tone hostile. You take the folder placed beside him before leaving him there, disinterested.

It wasn’t as simple for you as it has been for him to simply walk the relationship off down the drain. 

Not when he promised the world.

Not when you believed him.

Not when he was standing there right in front of you acting as if he didn’t know anything about the shit you had to go through without him. As if he was just innocent. As if he had nothing to do with it. As if he cared. And especially not when he was the one who put you there and left in the first place. 

This is what had become of the both of you. Jungwon and you. Worse than strangers, haunted by what’s left of something that was long gone. 

All he had to do then was apologize. Actually, he just had to come back, and you would do the apologizing for him. You were always the one who gave in, in the end, anyway. 

You would’ve accepted him.

You would’ve even begged for him.

The things you would have done.

None of this would’ve happened.

But.

None of that would work now.

None of that mattered.

It was all too late.

The both of you were just so different now.

.

.

.

LATER

Riki was confusing, truly.

“Didn’t you make fun of me two years ago about how much of a dumbass I was?” you rolled your eyes incredulously at Riki picking at you to how rude you were being to Jungwon, “You hated him, what’s with the change of attitude?” you snort.

Riki shifts his weight, fixing the strap of his bag, “You were a dumbass,” he agrees, pulling a face at you, “and I still hate that guy,” he continues, his expression turning sour at the thought of him, but pauses.

“But you were happy,” he looks over at you deliberately.

 A happy dumbass. You could cringe, that was the old you. The desperate old you. Long gone.

You were most definitely not having it, your facial expression hard. “Did you have a head trauma or something? A fever? Are you forgetting the past two years?” you press the back of your hand to his forehead, checking his temperature and warmth for dramatic effect.

He pushes your hand away, “I’m just saying,” he starts, talking to you as if you were a child, “he left, but he’s back, isn’t he?” he throws his hands around for emphasis.

Then he shrugs, like he doesn’t know any better either, “He’s gotta be back for a reason.”

You don’t care. You don’t care what reason he’s back, or whatever he wants from you. “He can’t just come and go as he pleases, idiot,” you forcefully shrug it off, grumbling. “that jerk made his decision that day. He made his bed and now he has to lie in it.”

And Riki gives up on how stubborn you are, “You really do hold grudges, don’t you?” he ruffles your hair up, amused. 

Strangling a sound, you kick the back of his leg, but he dodges.

Oops, your eyes slightly widen, anticipating a fall. You lose your balance, nearly tripping - but luckily, Riki notices within a half of a second and catches you before your face plants flat on the ground, hoisting you back to his chest by the grip on your waist.

You were going to laugh at your mistake, your face already breaking into a smile - but your eyes catch someone a few feet away.

You blink. Your smile slowly starts to drop at the sight of him.

Of course, it had to be Yang Jungwon.

For a split second, your shock doesn’t allow your eyes to leave his. 

Riki snaps you out of it, releasing you from his grasp and guides you to his side as he slings his arm around your shoulder - like he always does. You’re sure Riki knew well enough and had an idea of how Jungwon looked like. He recognized him straight from the café, and you never questioned how he knew. How were you going to walk out of this one?

Riki doesn’t look at you in confirmation - you have no idea what shit he’s going to pull, but you’re sure as hell it isn’t going to be good.

He nods once in acknowledgement over at Jungwon, but Jungwon pays no mind and choses to ignore him as his eyes flicker onto the arm around you.

Riki notices it.

You don’t know what to do.

“Hey, I’m Riki,” he starts - and for some crazy reason, he sounds as if he was gloating, “who are you?” he throws back casually. Too casually. You would be irritated to talk to him, if you were in his place. The dislike in Jungwon’s features is evident enough. You don’t know what Riki was playing, but he extends his hand out for Jungwon to bro-shake, whatever that could even signify.

A long pause. Jungwon barely glances at it before his attention is back on you, ignoring him beside you as a whole. 

“Why are you with him?” he tries to casually question you - as if he was trying to create small talk - his voice is calm - but Jungwon’s eyes never lie. He could never hide anything from it. You knew that look, and you didn’t like it. It made your blood boil. The guts of this self-centered arrogant asshole. 

Riki answers in your stead, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to answer. He laughs, throwing his head back a bit, “Oh, don’t mind us,” he curtly replies, “my girl over here ‘s just really clumsy.”

You forgot how much of on asshole Nishimura Riki really is.

Riki effortlessly sighs, openheartedly shrugging as if to say ‘what-can-you-do?’. It was friendly, but you understood the underlying meaning. He was testing him. Picking at him. Provoking him. You wanted to facepalm. Provoking was the only thing he was ever good at, why did you even bother? What was this, some fighting-for-the-alpha-spot werewolf shit?

Nishimura Riki, you asshole! 

Jungwon understands the message. A muscle up on his clenched cheek twitches, his eyes slightly narrow. Was he threatened already? You were in a state of disbelief, Riki was barely even doing anything. Seriously. He never changes.

“Why are you with him?” he asks you again, this time his voice comes out somewhat strained in the end. The old Jungwon would’ve probably started a fight right then and there, lacking any sort of composure. Jungwon changed, hasn’t he?

But you have, too.

Riki peeks at you, “Babe? Do you know him?” Confused. Curious. Innocent.

You had to give it to him. Riki was an amazing actor, he could’ve fooled you if you didn’t know any better yourself. 

You merely glance at Jungwon, barely a pause before you answer, “No.”

No hesitation in your tone. A ‘no’ as if he was simply a stranger standing before you. Nothing. You observe how your answer hits Jungwon. How the simple word destructs him. You could only watch. Everything was different now. This is what you wanted, wasn’t it?

But where was the sense of satisfaction?

You tug at Riki’s arm, “Let’s go, you promised me to bring me home today.” 

You leave Jungwon like that. You leave him with the uncomfortable feeling that was bubbling up. Riki is surprised. And confused. You don’t know if he’s still continuing the act when he affectionately waves Jungwon goodbye before immediately following after you.

Yang Jungwon strikes again.

.

.

.

You whacked Riki at the back of his head the moment you were as far from the gods-be-damned-scene and as far from Jungwon as possible, “Idiot!” you hissed, “What the hell was that?”

He rubs the back of his neck soothingly, glaring at you. “You know, just a little ‘thank you’ would suffice.”

“’Thank you’, my ass! I told you to not pull any stupid shit!” You threaten to hit him again, vexed at the stunt he pulled. The situation was only going to get worse from there and you couldn’t take back anything at this point. You retreated your arm, groaning in horror of what’s to come.

“The moment called for it!” was his only excuse.

You scowled at him, as if your eyes could annihilate him at the spot.

You got Jungwon, you had to admit. A few more of these blows and he would leave your sights. This was a bad idea, but your mind didn’t seem to pay any care. 

Hurt him.

Right then and there, your ego allows Riki to participate in whatever crazy-sick game this was. You just needed Jungwon far away.

Riki smirks at you and flashes you a winning smile. He knows you’ve agreed to his idea without having to say anything else. You had no other option, either way.

“You won’t regret this, ___. It’ll be fun!” he singsongs, draping his arm around you.

It’ll be fun, you echoed.

You’ve been lying to yourself for two years, what’s a couple days more to you?

.

.

.

THE NEXT DAY

Jungwon finds you asleep, leaning your head on the desk with your cheek pressed up against the table. 

And Nishimura Riki was by your side, reading gleefully. Mostly watching you sleep. A fucking weirdo, Jungwon inwardly comments. His stomach turns at the sight. His mood has already dried.

He stands there for what seems like a torture of infinity before Riki sees him there. He just grins at him. Jungwon would want to do nothing more but throttle him and that shit-eating look off his face.

“Here for the thesis paper?” was all he asks, he starts collecting himself and his things, preparing to leave, thankfully, Jungwon praises.

But when Riki decides to act like the biggest fucker to piss him off all the more when he leans in to gently tuck back the hair covering your face as as you sleep, Jungwon defensively takes a step forward to you by instinct, ready with a handful of swear words.

Riki notices it, and only press his index finger on his lips, indicating to keep his voice down. Jungwon’s jaw slightly ticks as he stays in place - not risking your sleep.

He pats Jungwon’s shoulder on his way out, but he stops by the door. He motions him closer, as if he were to tell him something hugely important. Jungwon presses his lips into a thin line, walking up to him and trying to keep it as civil as possible.

He holds up a finger, as if to gesture ‘and-one-more-thing’, “Oh, and tell her to keep the hoodie she’s wearing, will you?” 

Jungwon raises both brows in question, and instantly regrets it.

Riki further explains himself, "She likes stealing them from me. God knows she has a whole rack of them on her closet.” He shrugs, a growing smirk on his face. “But eh, I like it on her, it suits her better.”

That little shit.

He was about to give him a phony nod and thumbs up to let the whole agitating conversation over with when Riki presses his luck even further, “She’s pretty.”

God. Jungwon’s patience was running thin, his jaw flexes.

“Oh, and tell her -”

Jungwon nearly slams the door on his face.

He wondered what you saw in that guy.

Walking back with his hands stuffed in his pockets - something he does when he was definitely pissed off, he yanks a chair, face displaying irritation at its finest when he arrives back at your table. He doesn’t bother to spare you a glance your way, he knows you too well.

“I know you’re awake,” he says out of nowhere, his voice tight. “Stop pretending.”

It takes several moments before you start faking a yawn. You could easily fool anyone, but sadly for you, he knows you too well. His glance is blank as you outstretch your arms as if you had just woke up, you greet him as if you hadn’t expected to see him there, “Oh . . hey.”

Jungwon had already looked sour from his encounter with Riki, his pissed off gaze averts away from yours. A muscle from his jaw ticks as he huffs, “Your boyfriend left.”

You nod, blinking as if you were slowly trying to register everything. Jungwon wanted to ask you a flood of questions: what was he doing here? Were you already awake when he was being a creep and staring at you while you were ‘asleep’? Why are you wearing his hoodie -? “Okay.”

That aggravates him even more, and his tone turns curt and strained. “I’m going to work on the thesis. You do whatever.” he dismisses you, heaving a short breath.

He stalks off, but not before grimacing at your outfit up and down - more than fumingly horrified, spitting out through gritted teeth, “And take off that hoodie. It looks horrible on you.”

.

.

.

THE WEEK AFTER

You wake up in Monday morning with aching pins and needles, not being able to move an inch of your body. Your eyelids were too heavy to keep open, weighing tons of your effort.

Of all days, you were sick.

Lord.

Releasing a cough, your hand reaches for your ringing phone. Riki, the contact label name displayed. You try to clear your throat as you answer the call, in effort to not sound as sick as possible. “Hello?” your groggy and hoarse voice could be depicted from miles away by a total stranger. Much less Nishimura Riki.

“Princess?” His voice answers through the call, perceptibly worried, “what’s wrong? You sound . . . off today.” You could tell he was squinting as he said this.

“Uh. . .” you sniffed, trying to come up of a lie, “just watched a sad film. Cried a lot.”

Riki hums, giving no humor in his voice. “Mhm. And that’s why you’re late four hours to class?”

Your stomach lurches. You were what? You had classes today, and you didn’t even remember. Were you missing on anything important in university today? Shit.  

Racing for the most reasonable excuse, “I wanted to . . . enjoy a day off?” Bad liar. You were nothing but a bad liar. You were too exhausted to create a better and more creative lie.

Riki, being way too observant on things he shouldn’t be, clearly wasn’t buying it. He clicks his tongue. “I’m coming over. Don’t go anywhere. Stay in bed,” he orders you shortly before ending the call. He doesn’t scold you or lecture you, and he leaves it at that. 

You moan at the surge of pain once again located in your stomach, you had no plans of leaving the bed even if you wanted to anyway, given your current state.

.

.

.

Riki texts you that he was outside around less than ten minutes later.

If you could complain, you’d rather have Riki come in your room to help you up. Like he always did. You found him not doing so rather odd, as he would always make the weirdest reasons to come drop by your house. Moving the slightest inch was hard as it already was. 

It takes you what seems like hours for you to get out of bed, and even more for you to bag your bag and head outside. You were ready to grumble about how efficient and less painful this would’ve been if Riki had come to help you until more than one figure greets you outside your yard. 

Riki and . . . hands stuffed to his pockets, head bowed - you know that side profile -Yang Jungwon?

Both stayed at opposite ends, standing in front of their cars, awaiting for you with the hardest glares sent the other’s way. What was happening? Jungwon was most likely the reason Riki wasn’t able to go inside your house to pick you up. That was the only factor that made sense - the rest was something you couldn’t connect the dots of. 

Both their cars parked out of your house, and you could feel the tension slicing you in half the moment you step foot outside. These two could never stay in the same room, sticking around to wait for you was strictly meant for you.

Jungwon is the first to break the glaring match as soon as he sees you, being the first to approach you while gently holding you up. 

“Love, are you okay? Let me bring you to the hospital - come on,” he pleads with you, gesturing towards his car. 

“This isn’t the time to joke about something like this in her state,” Riki forces a fake smile through his gritted teeth, irritated as he sneaks his arm around your waist, holding you up himself all the better with a single hand, “just so you know.”

Jungwon’s gaze darkens, “It isn’t about fighting for who gets her, just so you know,” he mimics, “I don’t trust her with you, you dipshit.”

Riki scoffs to himself, shifting his weight as he continues to press you tightly against him, not budging an inch of you to Jungwon, “And look who came to talk.”

Jungwon opens his mouth, his eyes ruthlessly set on Riki’s before you try and weakly cut in from your lack of energy. However, your weak knees give up on you and you almost stumble down, not before both Jungwon and Riki reaches out their hand to grab your arm within half a second. Riki half-yells your name, all the more uneasy and concerned than you were.

“Y/N? Love? Are you okay?” Jungwon’s hostile tone towards Riki not seconds ago immediately dissipates, conveying his tone of worry and panic at your weak state.

“I’ll drive you to the hospital,” Jungwon additionally suggests, trying to have you lean his weight on him for you to stand property, and in that way he could easily carry you back to his car.

“Hell no,” Riki growls, in the other hand.

You notice Jungwon’s eyes darken at the corner of your eye, “And who exactly are you to her to begin with-?”

“Her boyfriend, nice to meet you, you dipshit,” Riki retorts.

Jungwon lets out a low noise, pissed off at a topic that was seemingly sensitive to him. “Over my dead body would you ever be her boyfriend.”

He rolls his eyes in disinterest. “Still going through the stages of grief? Is this the denial stage?” he taunts, clicking his tongue with a tsk.

“Bo,” Jungwon calls you - candidly ignoring Riki’s shitty statements, but his sharp eyes never leave Riki’s, “let’s get this over with and tell us who would you want to -” 

This was getting too prolonged, you were so close to vomiting again. You definitely did not want to vomit here of all places. “Riki,” you called out faintly, interrupting Jungwon, “please take me to the hospital.” 

All parts of your body ached painfully, and you were too miserably ill to deal with this situation. You imagine Jungwon’s expression crumbling, deflating. 

Riki straightens, visibly surprised, but he doesn’t hesitate. Not before giving Jungwon a final look, he carries you with you gently, making sure you were watching your step as the both of you left the defeated Jungwon without another word. 

You were too weak to look back at Jungwon – he helplessly stares after the sight of his girl - his girl - being taken away from him when she needed help the most. 

Again.

.

.

.

You spend three days in the hospital for a diagnosed viral infection.

Thankfully but not surprisingly, Riki stayed by your side through every minute, only leaving for a shower, buying take-out, and for getting you new packs of clothes. It was Ningning and Seoyeon who came over to take care of you during Riki’s leave.

He sticked around from the moment you were submitted, to the insertion of the IV, through your countless trips to the bathroom to puke and for him to hold your hair back, and through your dischargement.

The both of you were on your way to the car to load your things. Riki had all of his hands filled. “Oh yeah, I almost forgot, thanks for the wanton noodles,” you mention immediately as soon as you remembered, “How d’you know they were my favorite?” You don’t recall ever brining it up to Riki.

Instead of bursting up his signature winning smirk, Riki furrows his brows at you, “Wanton noodles? What wanton noodles?”

You perked up a brow, “The one you left by the door earlier when you were paying the discharge bills?”

Riki had nothing. He blinks at you as if you had been hallucinating. “Why would I leave food by the door?” he shakes his head, “Doll, what in the hell are you talking about?”

“The wanton noodles that you –“ You stop mid-sentence, freezing. Realization dawns on you then. The note, you recall as you piece things back together.

Stop skipping meals. I got you your favorite. I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me.

Yang Jungwon.

There was no name from who it was from, you had simply assumed it was from Riki. This wasn’t your first time realizing that Jungwon had never dropped by, you had simply figured he didn’t care. Your stomach sinks, ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me’. The double implications.

Riki waves his hand in front of your face, “Earth to princess? Hello?”

Ah. Right. You blink, shaking your head – you meet his eyes with a smile, “Nothing. I just thought I remembered something.”

.

.

.

WEEKS LATER

Jungwon was a lot quieter than usual ever since you’d been discharged.

Since . . . the night he and Riki were there. You slightly wince at the memory.

You almost managed to successfully spend a thesis discussion with him without having to say much - to your great pleasure - until he just had to ruin it for you. He was filling in his part for the thesis paper while you were scanning through the pages of the book you were reading, skipping to the ending.

“Hey,” he starts, humor laced in his voice. “D’you still read the endings of books like you used to? I remember –“

Your head snaps up. You don’t smile. You don’t flush red in embarrassment. You don’t laugh like the way he’d expected you to. The way you always did. You stared harshly down to his eyes. It wasn’t the heart-fluttering kind - nor was it the passionate or the fierce or the loving kind of stare. No, it was a heart-piercing glare - so full of pure hatred, the kind that had his breath hitching up his throat in the worst way possible and his heart sinking into your stomach.

“Don’t.”

Ah.

No double meanings. Nothing else. The essence couldn’t be taken as a mere mistakable, conveyed with just one simple word that held the heaviest weight, yet it was enough for him to understand. He doesn't try to catch himself or his smile as it fades - along with the antagonizing agony that accompanied it.

The light in your eyes has gone.

They were so dark.

It doesn’t shine the way it used to.

He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. He struggles. It takes him two more tries. Two more times of you opening and closing his mouth for him to finally unknot his tongue and drag the words to the surface.

“You have a …” he hesitates to say it, “boyfriend?”

It was so close. A few seconds until you would leave, and he just could wait. Stuffing your university belongings back into your bag, you exhaled, your lips tightening into a hard line. “What is it to you?”

A second or two passes, “Oh,” he replies, “I didn’t know, so -”

“What difference does it make?” you rhetorically question him, your patience running thin, “if you didn’t know or if you did?” You were being absurd - you knew that, but you wanted anything but the idea of having to talk about that subject with him and act like it was fine. 

Being snappy at him wasn’t the greatest idea, but you know Jungwon was trying to get at somewhere. You would do whatever it took to defy him. That quiets him down, only forcing a painful nod.

You needed to leave. You couldn’t stay away from him, especially whenever he was near. God knows only a few words from Jungwon would be all it would take for him to manipulate you back into his strings.

Painful silence.

Until, “Does he make you happy?”

You find yourself freezing.

A sick feeling in your stomach.

Does he make you happy?

Happy.

Why was he asking the question like he meant it?

Your eyes flicker his way, and there is no hint of humor or taunting mock in his face. Was he serious? The man who broke you to pieces and disregarded you stood before you and asked if another man was making you happy, as if he cared. As if he ever did.

You don’t say anything.

You don’t have anything to say.

Jungwon knows that.

You try to breathe.

One.

Two.

Three.

You walk away, and he lets you. You walk away because walking away was the only thing you’ve ever done. Because walking away was the only thing you could ever do around him. Because you can’t risk another goodbye from him.

You were done gnawing back at the past.

.

.

.

[ now playing ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ spring day by bts ]

↻ … ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ

AFTER THE BREAK-UP

.

.

.

And the both of you became back to being nothing.

Just like that.

You told him your secrets, and you let him in. All the good, all the bad. You trusted him and brought down your defenses. You let him know your weird thoughts or funny inside jokes and the deep insecurities. 

But he never got to know the little things, you realize the moment it’s over. The little things that infuriated you. The little things that made you laugh. Or the little things that would always put you on a better mood - the little bits and pieces of you.

You barely got to know him at all.

Was that the reason?

Was the fact of loving him just as plainly as that - nothing more, and nothing less - the root of it all?

Or was it just the big things that held the both of you together, and the small things that caused you to fall apart?

.

.

.

You don’t believe it’s over.

Because it’s not.

You’ve been stuck inside the house for longer than you could count. You’ve memorized the number of tiles on the floor and seen every miniscule crack on the wall. You know how many steps it takes to walk from here to the door.

And you know just how many steps Jungwon took to leave.

Your eyes remained fixated on the door, waiting at the dining table for him to come home.

Like every other day.

He was still finding his way back home, you reminded yourself.

Busy. He’s busy.

Tick-tock.

He’s on his way.

He'll come back. He always does. He promised.

You form hundreds of thousands of excuses for him.

But the door doesn’t swing open to reveal Jungwon in all form and glory beaming down at you, apologizing, telling you that it was a mistake, telling you that he didn’t mean it. Every day is the same.

But nothing.

Nothing.

.

.

.

Riki knows it’s one of your days.

He reaches for your hand to grab and the fact that you have no response alone proves his assumption even further. 

He doesn’t mind, Riki decides to walk you home.

You have those days where you go completely silent. Worse than ever. So quiet that he could never guess what you’re thinking or if you’d ever come back from it. Eyes empty as if there was no one home. He doesn’t know how he could help you specifically, how he could make you snap out of it.

The only thing he can do is talk. Talk and talk and talk and talk. He talks for hours about anything on the top of his head, and Riki himself is surprised he could somehow manage to not run out of topics to tell you about. 

Even if you don’t respond. Not even a flicker of recognition to any of his comments or jokes.

Riki never knows what you’re thinking.

But this time, that day, he knows it’s about Jungwon.

Someone asked you about Jungwon today. How he was doing, where he is, and what happened to him. As hard as Riki would shield you away from situations such as these, it wasn’t hard enough.

Riki was so close to making you smile the other day. He was finally doing it.

And then he’s back again to square one.

After his efforts of trying to get your attention by the food stalls the both of you passed by, Riki starts to go quiet. 

There is no noise - nothing between the two of yoou. Only the rustling of leaves. The cool breeze of air. The sound of footsteps on cobblestone. Cars driving by. Indistinct chatters. 

“Why are you still holding on?” quietly. So quietly, but you easily catch on Riki’s question. Then your hands slightly tremble.

You don’t answer him, you’re afraid of saying too much. You’re afraid. 

He never said goodbye.

That was your reason.

He never said goodbye.

Jungwon always bids you goodbye, you’d explain to Riki if you could.

What makes this time any different, right?

He won’t leave without saying goodbye. He wouldn’t. Only you could understand.

He never said goodbye.

A part of you still believed that meant he was coming back.

.

.

.

When Riki tries dropping by like any other day - a sneaky reason to check on you, from the start of early morning, he sees you there. 

You spend the whole day stuck in the kitchen.

Riki knows what day it was without having to ask.

By the evening, you bring out the cake that you’ve been preparing for and set it down the table, in front of an empty chair. The chair you never let anyone sit on. It’s still belonged to someone else. 

Riki knows who it’s for.

Your eyes are distant, as if they were caught up in a dream. Light. You were there - physically, but you were far away. Far, far away. Riki started to wonder if this was just how you were. He wondered if there was ever a time where you were really alive. 

He wondered the extent to how much this guy did to break you. 

Your eyes looked so empty.

But you were still holding on, weren’t you? You’ve never responded to him, but he knew. Riki made no noise, but he clenches his hands into fists. You don’t acknowledge him standing there.

You set the candles down the cake with the lighter.

You only stare at the cake, expectantly. Waiting. Waiting for someone to blow the candles off. Waiting to sing the cheerful ‘happy birthday’ song and make a wish. But it wasn’t just anyone. 

He doesn’t attempt to do anything - or say anything. But he stands near close to your proximity. Watching over. Silently. He doesn’t leave you that day. 

You take a seat next to the empty chair, simply and patiently letting time pass as your eyes affixed themselves with the dancing fire.

Until the candles blow out themselves hours later from the cold air. 

That night, Riki also knew who it was for when he heard your uncontrolled crying and broken whimpers pass from your room for the first time.

.

.

.

There was a period wherein you stopped leaving the house entirely. And Riki stopped pushing you to.

Everything reminds you of him.

The house has never felt so big.

Alone.

You miss the way he smells.

The overbearing feelings starts to compress, and you feel it expanding within your chest. It gets hard to breathe. You feel helpless.

Jungwon won’t like it if he sees you like this, wouldn’t he?

You keep reminding yourself.

He might come in any second, and you wanted to be at your best.

You promised yourself you wouldn’t cry.

You won’t cry.

You’d make it up to him.

You don’t want it to end.

He’ll come back.

He’ll come back.

.

.

.

You don’t know how many months it has been.

That’s a lie. You do.

You find one of the notes he wrote for you in an old shoe box.

It reminds you that what you had was real, that what you had wasn’t just a figment of your imagination. It wasn’t a dream. 

You picked up the first letter, your fingers tracing through his handwriting.

It was painful. A shard of glass piercing through your skin.

To my one and only girl,

You couldn’t breathe.

It was merely the first line of the long letter, and you couldn’t breathe.

This time, you don’t pretend to forget that you aren’t Jungwon’s anymore. You don’t pretend that this was all a phase. A nightmare. A joke. 

This time, you don’t pretend to wait at the living room for him to come back home, swinging the door open with a grin and greeting you from a long day like he used to. Not anymore. Even if you had so much to tell him. So much news to show off to him. So much news to be happy for. To celebrate. But you weren’t.

This time, you almost suffocate.

You torture yourself even more this time. You open the letter again and it rips your heart out. It stabs you and leaves you bleeding. You read the last line. Sealed with a promise. A broken promise that meant nothing now. 

I’ll make you the happiest girl, I promise. I love you :)

You could imagine his cheeky smile as he wrote this, sealing the promise - among with every other one that he’s made. Every single one that he didn’t claim responsibility for. 

Liar.

He was a liar.

He was reckless and a liar.

He broke you to the point where you couldn’t even manage to bring yourself to say his name.

You wish you were brave enough.

What a fool you were.

A dumb, useless fool.

.

.

.

“Kant’s metaphysics?” Riki answers, lying on the edge of your bed. He lounges carelessly with a review paper clutched on his left hand. 

You rest a hand on your hip, pacing around your room. “No, but you’re somewhat close. It’s categorical imperative.” You corrected, recalling your philosophy lesson by memory through mentally singing a tune to yourself. 

 The philosophy oral examination was this coming Thursday that next week. It was Saturday. Riki complained, saying he needed help and tutoring, and you, other than staying cooped up at home debating your life choices and burying yourself in academics, there wasn’t really anything else you did. 

He squints his eyes in confusion, “But how does that relate to the second follow up question after that?” you pause, staring hard at the desk beside you to remember the answer, you take minutes - but nothing.

You run a hand through your hair, visibly frustrated and stressed. You had all the more topics to go through. Hell, you had to go through the whole book and you couldn’t get past the second lesson yet.

Releasing an exhale, you shut your eyes tightly. Shit. Shit. 

Jungwon always knew what to do. He knew how to calm you down and rile you up and make you laugh right after like he was born with it. He’d drop everything at the sight of you overthinking and over-stressing school work, embracing you and telling you that you didn’t have to worry. That he was there. He’d let you cry it out, vent out your frustration and stay by your side through it all, running a hand through your hair soothingly to comfort you.

He knew exactly how to take care of you. 

You need him.

You needed him.

Just for this moment.

How much longer?

Biting down your lower lip forcefully, you chant the words over and over again. 

He’s not coming back.

He’s not coming back.

He’s not coming back.

He’s not coming back.

He’s not coming back.

He’s not coming back.

He’s not coming back.

He’s not coming back.

He’s not coming back.

He’s not coming back.

He’s not coming back.

He’s not coming back.

You know he’s not coming back. 

You know.

You’re back to pacing across your room, back and fourth. ‘”I don’t know, I really -” you cut yourself off, irritated. At this point, you’re ready to erupt from the heavy weight of his absence. At this point, you want to drop to the floor and stop time to give yourself a breath. 

Riki has sat up at this point, silently watching you. He’s probably either thinking that you were worrying and stressing over the amount of workload given to you like the usual. Or, does he know that academics isn’t what you were worrying about at all at that moment?

You try to level your breathing.

Come back.

Jungwon, please.

Come back to me.

.

.

.

To: won 😚🙄

[03:46am] you: hi i’m graduating this wednesday. i’d really like it if you could drop by. 

error. message undelivered. try again?

[03:50am] you: hey did you know my graduation is nearing?? haha you should come :)

error. message undelivered. try again?

[05:18am] you: jungwon

[05:18am] you: are you there?

[05:19am] you: you’re gone and i really need you.

message sent.

do you want to delete this message? 

message successfully deleted.

Contact user: [ENTER] 

Contact: yang jungwon

by pressing [Confirm] you are allowing the name changes to be saved.

changes saved.

.

.

.

“The sun’s so clear out. Lighten up, princess ~” a voice calls you out of your thoughts and you realize you were trapped in a dream.

Identifying reality with dreams seemed entirely difficult to you. There was something fiction in the way reality was going to you.

Reality was as crazy as dreams were.

“Your moping is bad for my skin,” Riki comments lightheartedly, scrunching up his nose.

It’s been a week or so since he came along. Since he bumped into you and started to grow interest towards you. You don’t ask him, and you don’t really care. Nothing that every happens around you matters to you as much anymore.

You only blink in regard to him. That was more than a sign of acknowledging his presence that he was used to.

Riki is used to this. He doesn’t mid this type of behavior, nor did he expect anything else. He self-proclaimed himself as your guardian angel – two days after he’d met you – who’d look after you “since you lack the ability to look after yourself” end quote. Which was true. You couldn’t look after yourself. Especially due to the past circumstances that he pieced together himself.

You were probably someone’s ex-girlfriend.

To him, Y/N was a detached-from-reality schoolmate of his who was definitely more than what meets the eye.

You were someone he wanted to get to know, until you stopped becoming that person, one day.

Until you became someone he wanted to protect.

Sliding himself into the seat next to yours, he pouts at you. “Y’know . . . I think it’s time for you to . . move on,” he struggles finding the right word for it. You know it takes a lot in him to try and be gentle, as he probably would’ve been teasing you with a bunch of insults.

Your throat encloses, and you feel like burning up.

Moving on meant accepting that he was gone. Gone from your life. Accepting a future without him, and that wasn’t something you were ever going to be ready to do.

He was long gone.

Jungwon was long gone.

The magic you once felt with him wasn’t there anymore.

He wasn’t there anymore.

And neither were you.

Waiting for someone is painful.

Letting go from someone is painful, too.

But not knowing whether to wait for someone or let him go?

It hurts more than anything.

.

.

.

You were out inside the bathroom for the first time in hours since you’ve left your seat from blankly staring at your phone.

It was all pure coincidence when Nishimura Rik stumbles upon the open phone screen that you’ve been torturing yourself endlessly with.

It was all pure coincidence.

And coincidence just happened to align with his curiosity. 

you: S.O.S. [7 hours ago]

you: come back [7 hours ago]

[Read]

Riki doesn’t have to read the contact name to see who it was.

.

.

.

It must be Riki’s professional job; being the only one around able to spot where you are when you suddenly disappear from the face of the earth.

“Princess?” Riki finally finds you along the benches, alone. He figures it weird, he’s not exactly sure what you were doing there exactly.

Until he sees your face. Your tear-stained cheeks.

Ah.

“It hurts.” Out of nowhere. He has never prepared himself for this. Your voice cracks a bit, “Riki, it hurts.” You plead with him as if he power to take it all away. Small. Helpless. That was what you sounded like.

He offers his open arms to you, and you bury yourself in them. He lifts you up from the darkness, even if it was just by a centimeter.

“I’m in so much pain, can you stop it?” you tell him in a managed whisper, your voice hoarse.

He’s afraid anything he’d say would only break you even further. He only hugs you tighter.

Fuck, why did he give too many shits about you? This wasn’t the least like him at all. What in the world have you managed to do to Nishimura Riki? He stares at you, not being able to do anything.

“Why does it hurt so much?” a small vulnerable child whimpering in pain – pain they were forced to believe was their fault. That was how you sounded. 

He doesn’t know what to say. He’s frozen, in fact. “Riki I want to –“ you pause, trying to start again, “I’m tired,” you struggle with your words, your eyes closed shut, “Please make it stop.”

His eyes flicker.

Please make it stop.

Riki isn’t much of a person who really cared about anyone else’s business. He never poked his nose around because he never bothered enough to. Everyone was black and white to him.

You were a quite peculiar one to him, though. It drove him crazy, what was so good about you? You were clearly dead hungover your past ex. Barely talked. Barely did anything, at all. 

But he saw the most beautiful and vibrant colors when he looked at you in the whole life that he’s been walking around colorblind to any other.

He was just being pulled down deeper.

For the first time, all Riki wanted from someone was just their happiness. Purely. Passionately. Their happiness for his happiness. He just wanted you . . .

He just wanted you.

Nishimura Riki is done for.

If this was what he thinks it is, he’s done for. Because Riki was ready to be anyone you wanted him to be.

You gave be something I’ve never had, he wants to tell you. And I have nothing special to give you - but I will give you everything I have.

He doesn’t break promises. Especially if it’s you.

Riki will mend what was broken.

Whatever it takes.

One step at a time.

He was getting himself into the biggest mistake in his life, God, he sure as hell knew that. But Riki was never going to regret what was to come.

He was going to make it stop. All of it.

.

.

.

… ᵉⁿᵈ ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ ↺

PART TWO

#enhypenwriters #enhypennetwork #kwritersworldnet #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen angst #enhypen fluff #jungwon imagines #jungwon x reader #jungwon angst #enhypen scenarios #enhypen smau #enhypen jungwon #enhypen au #ni-ki x reader #enhypen headcannons #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen oneshots #enhypen niki #nishimura riki imagines #nishimura riki x reader #enhypen reactions #nishimura riki

[blushweddinggowns]

“Just hold still…and done!” Nancy grinned as she capped the eyeliner. She brushed a lock of hair out of his face before declaring, “You’re officially stage-ready.”

Eddie turned to look at himself in the mirror, instantly pleased with what he saw. Steve always said that his big-ass Bambi eyes were his best feature, and the eyeliner really was making them pop. Add that with the tight jeans, the leather jacket, and the combat boots, and Eddie actually looked like he belonged on a stage. 

He looked good, but he only cared so much about his own thoughts, “You think Steve will like it?”

Nancy rolled her eyes, “Like you have to ask. We’ll be lucky if he doesn’t have a heart attack.”

Eddie grinned at that. He could only hope that his reaction would be that good, “And it will last all night?”

“At least for 12 hours,” She reassured, “I used the good stuff. This eyeliner lasted on my mom for a fifteen-hour plane ride once, with layovers. You’re ready.”

Eddie nodded. That was basically equivalent to spending a wild night with Steve, the odds were in his favor. He reached over to give Nancy a one-armed hug, taking the time to hover for a second before she gave him a subtle nod. 

“God, you’re such a lifesaver,” Eddie sighed as he squeezed her to his side, “You sure you don’t want to come?”

Nancy snorted, “Are you kidding me? My dad would ground me for the next five years if I got caught. And you know I love you guys but I can barely deal with Steve gushing over you on a normal day, let alone one where you actually look hot.”

“Awwww, you think I’m hot?” Eddie cooed, laughing at the way it made her cringe.

She was already gathering everything back up into her makeup bag, trying and failing to hide her little smile, “Don’t push it.”

But he did, of course he did, the whole way back to the Wheeler house, earning himself a sharp pinch to his arm more than once. He dropped her off at home, promising that they would call her first thing in the morning to say how it went. Then he picked up his boys and the four of them were off, all of them excited out of their minds. 

Eddie had never imagined that he would be playing on a real stage, in a real city. It had been a silly little radio contest for a charity event, first five callers got the privilege to audition to be a one-time opener for Metallica, a band that Eddie adored but the rest of the world hadn’t seemed to have caught on to yet. It was a one-time thing, paired with some great luck for the station to catch them for a single night before their next album release. But still, it was a big deal, especially for people like them that had less than zero connections. Steve was the one who insisted that they call in. Eddie had just never thought that they would have actually won. 

But they had, and the prize was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to meet a band that Eddie just knew was going to be huge one day. Plus, free hotel rooms for the weekend? What more could a guy ask for? 

It was a fun drive, of course it was. You couldn’t get Eddie, Freak, Gareth, and Jeff in a room together without it being a blast. The only problem was that he already missed Steve. Which was, admittedly, stupid as fuck considering that he’d see him in a matter of hours. He just hated that he had to sneak out for this. Or more aptly, he hated that his parents forced him to sneak out for this. But they had a good plan here. 

He’d lie and say he was going to bed early to prepare some bullshit elaborate date for Nancy, one that would involve him being gone for all of Saturday. He’d sneak out his window by seven, drive the two hours to be there just in time for the curtains opening at nine-thirty. Then they’d spend the night together like they had been every night for years, his parents none the wiser.

The shitheads. 

Saturday night and Sunday would be a little trickier, but Steve was coasting off the fact that his parents usually forgot to say goodbye when they left for a trip. They had a red-eye flight at 3 am, and Nancy was already prepped to make a fake phone call to ask if he could stay for dinner Saturday. With any luck, they would forget about him entirely, both of them too tired to think about the fact that they wouldn't have seen their son for nearly two days. The last bit was more of a gamble, but Steve wasn’t about to let his parents' wrath ruin his shot at a romantic and paid-for weekend with his boyfriend. Besides, when it came to Nancy, his mom basically never questioned anything. Hell, she was basically on the edge of planning their fucking wedding at this point, beyond ecstatic that Steve had finally gotten himself a permanent girlfriend. 

God, that girl really was a lifesaver. Eddie was almost surprised at just how much he liked her, and not even because she was beyond useful when it came to hiding their relationship. She was just…kind of cool? He didn’t know how else to describe it, but her whole gun-toting, no-nonsense, and slightly bitchy persona was really doing it for him. Honestly, on a bad day, Eddie was slightly afraid of her, but he kind of liked that too. The fact that she could go from scarily intense to sarcastically hilarious just equated to a winning personality in his book. And that wasn’t even counting how happy she made Steve, and vice versa. 

Sometimes he’d wander into the room that they were supposed to be studying in, only to find the two of them completely off the rails either talking about their shared passion for musicals, high school gossip, or more often than not, Steve Harrington approved seduction methods for her to try out on Jonathan Beyers. Or Tom Cruise, depending on the timing. 

They wouldn’t even notice that he walked in most of the time, too caught up in laughing with each other. Maybe it was weird, but sometimes Eddie would just watch them for a minute. Steve would be all giggly and smiling and adorable, and it just made Eddie feel warm. Hell, even seeing Nancy happy was enough to make him smile most days, the girl deserved it after everything she’d been through last year. She was a good person and a good friend. And Eddie was going to get her so many corny Indy souvenirs for covering their asses tonight. 

They were all nervous as hell when they finally got there, but actually getting to meet the band while they were setting up went surprisingly well. Though that mostly had to do with the fact that they had prepared for it. They had a fool-proof system of aggressively stepping on each other’s feet when one got a bit too fangirly. And though it left all four with some bruises, it did manage to stop Gareth from telling James Hetfield that he would totally marry him if he was a chick. They made a good impression, Eddie was pretty damn sure of it considering they offered free tickets for their next tour. 

It was fun, even if he was still nervous as all hell when it was their time to play. He had never felt this anxious walking out on stage before. Maybe that had to do with the fact that it was a real stage, but still. He wasn’t the type to be nervous about performing at all, whether that be at the Hideout or hopping on lunch tables for an impassioned speech. 

He swallowed as he looked out into the crowd, heart pounding in his chest as he realized just how many people were there. It was a far cry from the Hideout where they would be lucky to get ten people to actually notice when they were finished. But this had to be a hundred plus. Eddie’s eyes zeroed into the front row, scanning it for the one thing that could calm him down. It didn’t take long to spot him. 

There he was, smack dab in the middle of the row, completely out of place with his adorable pink polo. He was leaning against the railing, hearts in his eyes as he waved up at him. Eddie grinned, his nerves disappearing the second Steve blew him a kiss. Just the sight of him was enough to bring Eddie back down to earth.

He stepped up to the mic, guitar in hand, and started to sing.

Excerpt from chapter 14 of this fic

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #eddie munson #steve harrington #the universe trapped in your skin #stranger things #very indulgent chapter #before the drama of season 2 #and i know thats not how radio contests work or where metallica even was but #lucky for me its all fantasy lol #this is sfw but the fic itself is not #secret relationship steddie #beard nancy wheeler #steddie childhood friends au #steve and nancy friendship #eddie and nancy friendship

[di-writes-stuff]

Cowboy Like Me

Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader

Chapter 4

A/N: Let’s hope the tumblr gods actually let people see this.

TW: Mild s€xual tension, suggestion of a murd€r (self defense). Not much, mostly just crippling fluff.

Life, as you’ve experienced it, becomes quite boring once you’re no longer on the run. Maybe that’s why meetings with Arthur have become something of an event for you. You’ve opted to ignore the other, more likely reasons for your excitement surrounding these encounters.

You’re cautious as you approach the fence, being sure no prying eyes are watching as you sneak off to sell your goods from the train robbery. Your eyes quickly stop scanning your environment as you zero in on one thing, or man, in front of you.

Arthur Morgan.

There’s a soft smile on his face as he watches you bring your horse to a stop, the dreamy kind most don’t even notice they’re wearing. He straightens up, walking away from the tree he’d been leaning on and into the sunlight, the only shadow on his body the one from his hat, casting a bit of darkness over his face. He raises a hand to help you off your horse, gently leading you to the ground. Neither of you let go for a moment until a greeting that’s become sweetly familiar falls from his lips.

“Ma’am.” His voice is hushed as he looks down at you, his smile reaching his eyes, causing little crows feet to appear at the corners. Your voice is just as quiet as you respond, as if your simple greeting is some kind of hidden secret for only the two of you to know.

“Arthur.” His reaches out his hand out for the sack your carrying, full of everything you made off with from the train. The weight that had been dragging down your arm passes to him easily, like a feather in his capable hands. There’s not a discernible difference as he walks to the fence despite the added weight, leaving you to walk beside him to the jittery man waiting inside.

Few words are spoken between him and Arthur, and the ones that are stay hushed. The man in the shack is frail, beady eyes darting back and forth, constantly checking for any watching passerby’s. He ducks away into the darkness of his shack once the sacks are handed over like some kind of spooked animal, re-emerging with money in tow. He slides the wad of cash over to Arthur, hands shaky from either nerves or drugs.

The tiny bruises dotting the inside of his elbow tell you it’s the latter. Probably morphine, heroin if he’s really let himself go. A part of you thinks him pathetic, letting himself spiral like that. Although, a twinge of sympathy hits you as you remember living the life of a thief isn’t much better.

You and Arthur back away from the shed, under the cover of a sturdy oak. His fingers sift through the cash, hushed whispers falling from his lips as he counts it out. Three hundred in total, you try to be discreet about your own counting as he hands you your share. It’s not as if you don’t trust him in particular, it’s just…

You don’t trust anyone, not really. Same reason that, besides Arthur, you’ve avoided working with others for years, especially men. They never did give you your share in full, whether it’s because they thought you were too dumb to count, or they really didn’t see why you’d deserve as much as them. Either way, it usually ended with you either pickpocketing the rest of what you earned, or taking it all along with their life.

Men have a habit of getting awful violent when they don’t get their way. It was only natural you’d have to defend yourself every once in a while.

Relief floods you as you finishing counting. One fifty. Exactly half.

It shouldn’t mean as much as it does. Plain fairness, and maybe it’s just because your looking for reasons to defend how much you’ve come to like Arthur. Still, a warmth fills you as you look up at him, met with a small smile gracing his lips. His voice is a little teasing as he talks, although there’s a hint of nerves at the blank expression on your face. “Don’t tell me I counted wrong.”

You just shake your head, a smile creeping onto your face. “No…it’s perfect.” You fidget with the cash in your hands, suddenly shy under his gaze. The warm glow of the sunset washes over him, all his features looking just a little softer in this light.

“Ya flatter me, Miss.” The grin he flashes your way sends blood rushing to your face, your cheeks turning a shade awful similar to the pink sky behind you.

Arthur never thought himself to be a particularly charming man, quite the opposite actually. A dirty, dangerous, entirely un-appealing brute. Of course if he ever told you that your first instinct would be to inquire if he was blind.

Either way, a sort of boyish pride fills him at the response he seems to be able to draw from you so very easily. It’s a careful line he’s treading in his own mind. A balancing act to keep this what it’s been thus far. A logistical partnership, with maybe—definitely—some flirting along the way. Just for fun, though. Nothing more, no feelings, nothing that’ll keep him up at night.

Arthur opts to ignore that the latter stopped being true a while ago.

As you bid him your goodbyes and set off to your horse, there’s a moment where he isn’t quite sure he even finishes thinking about what he’s going to say before it comes out of his mouth. Just pure instinct to make this moment last longer.

“Let me take you home.” He offers, watching as you stop in your tracks, turning around with an expression caught between looking pleased and shocked.

As he awaits your answer, he’s already thinking up an excuse in his mind for his actions. Some way to write them off as nonchalant. Chivalry is what he settles upon this time. Not a desire to be around you rather than heading back to camp just to think of you instead. No, of course not that.

Chivalry. It’s getting dark, and while he knows you can defend yourself, you won’t have to if he’s there. Mostly because he’s a deterrent to dumb bastards trying to start a fight. Once they see him, they know they’ll lose. Although, if they do try, you certainly won’t have to be the one taking care of them.

Yes, that’s the reason. Nothing more, nothing less.

“I’d like that.” Your voice is soft as you answer. Arthur tries to push down the smile that threatens to creep onto his face at your response. Still, he can’t quite help the way the corner of his mouth quirks upward as he walks towards you.

It’s nothing more.

Chills run up from his arm as he helps you onto your horse, your hand so soft, so light in his own.

It’s nothing more.

As he looks up at you on your horse, the sun’s last dying beams seem to frame you, the kind of scene he’d stop to put down in pencil if it weren’t fading so fast. Memory will have to do, for this one.

It’s nothing more.

That ringing reminder grows quieter with each repetition, his ability to believe it dwindling along the way. As he rides back with you it’s silent for the most part, only the huffs from your horses and the sound of their hoofs hitting the ground filling the air. His eyes are keen, scanning your surroundings with a seemingly unrelenting fervor.

It makes sense for a man whose spent his entire life running from somebody. Or something. Nowadays it just feels like he’s in a losing race with the world, watching as the age of outlaws gets stamped out of existence little by little. His head snaps back to you as your voice breaks through the silence.

“So, how’d you end up here? Already one notorious gang in Valentine.” You ask, the mere suggestion of O’Driscoll’s fueling an anger in him from a feud that never was his own. Only adopted out of loyalty, or obligation. For Arthur, those two have always been of the same blood.

It takes a moment before he fully registers what you said, or more accurately, what you know. If he recalls correctly, which he knows he does, he never mentioned the Van Der Linde gang to you. Suspicion, the tiniest inkling of it, trickles in. “You know about the gang?” He asks cautiously, his voice a little lower.

Much to his surprise, laughter bubbles up from your chest as you respond. “I’ve seen the posters, Arthur. You’ve made no small name for yourself.” another bought of laughter leaves you as you add on. “Wonder what you did to earn your bounty.” A hint of shame stings in his mind at how fast he was to distrust you And how stupid he was to think you really had no idea who he was.

He chuckles lowly, the ease that comes with talking to you returning as fast as it left, only for a moment. A small reminder of the kill or be killed mentality most in his line of work still carry. That you even knowing some information about him felt, temporarily, like a threat. Yet, when he looks at you, the way your soft smile reaches your eyes as you wait for his response.

God, he’s a fool for even considering it.

Words return to him as he snaps out of his thoughts. “Wasn’t exactly one thing.” He answers, a twinge of sadness sinks in as he sees you start to steer your horse near a small house, the end of the night upon the two of you as you dismount. The light laughter that he always seems to bring about returns yet again, the sound making heat rise to his cheeks that he hasn’t felt since he was a teen.

“Oh, I’m sure you’ve got a slew of stories.” You comment, trying to drag the moment out as long as you can as you dismount, climbing the stairs to your door with Arthur close behind. As you turn around to face him he stops at the top step, not daring to set foot on the porch. Because both of you know you could open that door, invite him in for a meal. And a meal would turn into staying the night, and that night would only end in one place. And both of you know you’re considering it, parts of you you’re not willing to confess yet wanting it.

It would be so easy.

And yet he steps away, away from that hand that almost reached out of him, the lips that almost beckoned him in. His voice is a little strained as he replies with a tip of his hat. “Guess you’ll have to hear them another time, darlin’.” Disappointment fills you for a moment despite the regret you know you would have felt in the morning. Because if nothing else, you don’t want to become just another hazy, rushed night, kept only in bittersweet memories.

You want this to last. And in a way, he just told you in will.

“another time”

That’s what he’d said. Meaning that you would see him again. Meaning that he hadn’t tired of you yet. Meaning you weren’t completely deluded to think he might really like you.

You whisper your goodbyes, a sigh rushing through your lips as you shut the door behind you. Before you know it you’re reaching for the window, peeling back your curtain to watch him ride away until he becomes a small blip in the distance.

As for Arthur, the smile that appeared on his lips when he noticed your watchful eyes trailing after him doesn’t fade until he’s back to camp.

- di <3

A/N: I NEED HIM

#fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic writer #fanfiction writer #arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption #self insert #self insert fanfic #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan x y/n #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x reader #fluff #mutual pining #rdr #rdr2 fanfic

[stateswscarlet]

sp just got with a 3p. ive been manifesting for a year now and now i feel hopeless and like i failed. i feel like ive lied to myself just to comfort myself about our break up. i love sp dearly but idk what to do. he says he loves her. and i saw my other fav loass twitter account just had the same thing happen. it sucks. my heart hurts.

im sorry babe i understand youre hurt and thats 100% valid. take as long as you need to feel better and turn to self soothing methods (EFT tapping, breathwork, etc) to ground and calm yourself. when youre feeling not so great theres absolutely zero point forcing manifestation or forcing a state since youre prob not going to fulfill yourself anyways.

secondly, your words “hopeless” and “failure” tell me exactly where youve been focusing for the past “year” youve been “manifesting” (hint: you haven’t been consciously manifesting for a year straight bc you prob spent a good chunk of that figuring things out and learning the ropes, overconsuming and desiring. dont confuse learning the law with applying, you’re telling me for a YEAR straight you would bet everything you have to tell me that you’ve been in the state of being in a fulfilling relationship? i think not). you’ve been focusing on how its not here and how youre gona do the “work” to get them back/in a relationship with you.

even you saying you feel like you lied to yourself to feel better shows exactly what state you’ve been occupying. if you were actually fulfilled and understood that youre not getting back the sp who you arent with in the 3D/the one dating someone else then you wouldn’t be in shambles over a NEUTRAL 3D that means absolutely nothing. thats not your reality because you as god of your imagination already experienced the relationship remember? you ALREADY got back with them, so how can YOU as god of YOUR imagination go back and say “lol nvm actually were not together, hes with a 3p so fuck everything i experienced!” this also shows you haven’t accepted the 3D as is and were hoping and wishing that you “manifesting” would reflect in some near future. hence youve probably been embodying a state that definitely wasnt being someone in a committed relationship. this journey isnt about hope and wishing, its about being and LIVING your life normally. its not lying to yourself if you already came to terms with the current 3D (which we cant change forcefully - we can only change self) and understood that your manifestation IS NOT COMING FROM THE 3D AT ALL, let alone the shitty 3D where you guys broke up or whatever circumstances happened. yes in this specific 3D hes with someone else but why would you care? you already experienced your manifestation with YOUR partner who you already are dating in the reality that truly matters.

you cannot be imagining to solve circumstances. neville got rejected in the 3D for leaving the army yet he didn’t give uo because that rejection didnt mean he failed because he wasn’t imagining to GET OUT (aka youre not imagining to get sp back or remove a 3p), he was imagining to experience being back w his family (youre imagining to experience the relationship of your dreams). obviously if your goal is 3D oriented then yes it will seem like you failed because youre depending on the external to give you something.

[trashlie]

it's good to see you around again, I missed reading your long ILY posts, hope you're doing better too :) if you ever share your thoughts on the latest couple of episodes (including fp) here, I'd be super excited to read them! I'm really curious how you think the timeline is gonna go from here - especially relating to Shin-Ae and Nolan since it feels like they are the last pieces that need to fall into place so everything is ready for the post-timeskip story to go down. like you, I was so sure Nol and Shin-Ae were going to have some kind of reconciliation before he goes to jail but WELP rip 3 day extension. Poor guy though, Yui showing up in his hospital room must have been extremely triggering, it made sense that he did everything to get outta there ASAP. It's worrying me that this series of negative interactions (Kousuke, Alyssa, Yui) could've undone everything positive Shin-Ae Dieter Soushi Nana did, and now therapy during jail time could either have a positive or negative effect, so Nol is a Schroedinger's cat for now.... At least some things got cleared up and Shin-Ae is now starting to understand the root of the problem (= Yui) (and it actually really makes sense that she had to figure it out herself instead of Nol telling her - the boy obviously isn't ready to talk) so we made some progress.... But istg with this upcoming separation arc 2.0 it feels so much like we're gonna be back at ground zero after the first time skip. Fingers crossed they reconcile in whatever way before the big time skip though. we need a somewhat positive conclusion to this arc before season 1 ends, because if not then what was all this build up for, and why now? What about the realizations? the "convince me"? What about "if you won't let me have you"? If their reconciliation is only going to happen after multiple years of "conflict" between them that would be so cruel....

AND SHIN-AE STILL HASN'T GOTTEN HER BANDANA BACK and now he's stealing her lines too SDGDADSF;SDF

Waaaahhhhh thank you, friend!!! As you can probably tell, I'm still trying to get myself back here fully and figure out how to balance everything, which has always been a struggle ;~; I really may resort to telling my friends to ignore me and yell at me until I get certain posts written up so I'll stop procrastinating because there are SO MANY THINGS I WANT TO WRITE ABOUT EPISODES I WANT TO RECAP AND TALK ABOUT!!!! BUT THE ORGANIZING MYSELF!!!! IS THE PART THAT'S SO DIFFICULT!!!!!!!!

One of the great things about the ILY discord server is that we have this very constant, active conversation going on at all times so it's SO easy to be very present and active, but I also find that it means it's more difficult for me to regulate myself, or I'll have that feeling that I JUST talked about something and so when I try to write about it over here, it feels like a hollow echo and I know that's just because I was just having the conversation so that's just something I need to work on dealing with lol

But I want to answer this before we move so far away from when you asked this!!!!! As expected, there are FP spoilers ahead for eps 246 through 249!!!!!

I!!!! DO NOT KNOW!!!!!!! LMAO Like. GOD. I feel like quimchee has thrown us curveball after curveball and when we sit down and think about how long this period of December 21 and the post December 21 arc has been, how much the story has weaved around?! There are so many things that have occurred that I NEVER expected and, like you, it's just everything I thought has clearly gone out the window. Part of it, I think, is the result of quimchee having to change the arrangement of her story, and god I would love to pick her brain about the things that changed, since Nol's injury was supposed to happen at the formal itself, we never would have had this extended period of hospital time, and it seems like everything about Nol and Shinae coming to realization with their feelings would have played out in a wholly different way than what we ended up getting, so on some level I think this is partly that quimchee, too, is sort of throwing herself cureveballs in that there are things she knows needs to happen and she isn't sure where or how to fit the other elements in? But that's just my guess.

On the one hand, I do feel very "WHAT WAS THE EXTENSION FOR IF NOT FOR RECONCILIATION?!" but beyond Stalkyoo, we have gotten a LOT of good stuff out of this period of time. We see Kousuke facing his cognitive dissonance for, perhaps, the first time, and the revelation that Yui has been drugging him (and likely for a long time, given the way Hansuke describe the dosage Kousuke had and that it merely knocked him out), and more than that, making those connections between Nol and Yui and tea, and wanting to face him. I'm STILL proud of him for wanting to go back and see Nol again, even after he couldn't face him, even after Hansuke found him on the floor of a public bathroom hugging a toilet from the remorse and guilt and perhaps shame of the realization of the ways he has hurt people - has hurt Nol! - who didn't deserve it. We have seen that Rand and Yujing are, in fact, working on something behind the scenes, that Rand is facing Yui as a real adversary now, not just someone who has been resigned to endure her for so many years now, but to actually fight against her. The entirety of Nol's birthday celebration could not have happened the way it did had he not been in the hospital, since he would have had to turn himself in, and while maybe the original plan was that they celebrated his birthday with Minhyuk's coming home party, I'm.... not sure if that would have been the case?

But at at any rate, I do acknowledge that despite the fact that it feels like Nol might be back at square one, that he and Shinae are back where they started in 151, such significant events HAVE taken place that I think will still affect the narrative future of ILY. I still feel strongly that part of Nol's trajectory is coming to terms with the fact that he does, indeed, belong here. That he isn't someone who wasn't meant to be, that he doesn't belong here. He belongs, and he deserves love. He is someone, not nothing. I still think one of his greater arcs will involve coming to embrace this, and while the negative events - Kousuke, Alyssa, Yui - feel like they could be setting him back, he is now equipped with knowledge and feelings he wasn't before. It can't hurt him the same. In fact, I think part of why his confrontation with Alyssa went the way it did was because he had had this experience with Shinae, Dieter, and Soushi, it illuminated everything that was so wrong with his relationship with Alyssa, how neither of them really know each other. It's that sense of foiling that allows him to put his foot down and say enough is enough. Even before it was revealed that Alyssa had come with Yui, it was clear that Nol was over the visit. Don't get me wrong - I understand why he couldn't see that Alyssa clearly was not well, that she was uncomfortable, that she had come to him with no one else to go to, much as he'd gone to Kousuke in the past when he lost his mom, and I also understand why he did the same thing Kousuke did and turned her away. But the point I'm getting at is, it feels like there was a shift. That birthday celebration illuminated something for Nol.

So it's kind of like, while it feels like this might have undone the progress Nol made, it can't undone the revelations he's had, and in that same way, it cannot cast shadow on his enlightenment. He is not the same Nol he was a week ago. Too much has changed, he's become aware of too much, and as such, he is going to respond differently to what comes his way, and while he may continue to try what he had originally intended, I think the difference is that he's now been made aware of things that impact the choices he makes.

But largely I don't really know what I expect just yet. I think it's very pointed that the lawyer reminded Shinae that she has his phone number; I don't think that would be called out if it wasn't going to be important in some way, but in terms of how are we going from here to there? Unsure lol. I think there HAS to be a resolution of some kind, whether it's a reconciliation or not, because Shinae is on this momentum swing that isn't going to stop until she crashes into something or she comes into a force of nature that stops her. Nothing, no one, has been able to reach her or get through to her, and I know it's just because of how much she's hurting, but she's lashing out at people and hurting THEM like a street cat swiping at people trying to help her. She's so terrified of losing Nol, especially now that he came back, especially now that she gave him the option to leave and he didn't and it rekindled that hope she gave him an opening to leave when it would have been easier and he didn't which just made it worse, because so much more was at stake. She can't stop fighting she can't stop trying because she cannot bear what it means to lose him for real this time, not when she finally had him back, not when that realization has come to her even if she won't admit it. She needs him, so what's going to make her give up?

Something has to transpire, whether it's a reconciliation or Nol pushing her away and really shattering her heart or something awful like that, to bring her to a halt, because I can't imagine how we would move into our mini time skip to spring/graduation with Shinae like this, right? So I think there must be some kind of resolution. My foolish, hopeless self wants so badly to hope for reconciliation but esp after 249 I am SO torn. I have two thoughts.

a. they reconcile. She can reach him, and convince him, and even though he is so afraid, he is also someone who folds in front of her, he struggles to resist her. He told her to convince him and boy she can convince him and even though he tells himself he isn't sure if these feelings are real because what if it's just because she's NICE to him I think hearing her confess her feelings would tell him how he feels and give him the answer.

b. But the alternative feels like a parallel to Nessa and Rand, because Nessa, too, was hurt over and over by someone who kept getting her hopes up and getting hurt by him. Shinae gave Nol the opportunity to leave and he didn't, he stayed and doing so sparked her hope, made her feel things, they shared these tender, intimate moments together and forced that realization to come to mind, but for him to push her away again, for her safety, to make choices on her behalf even though she's told him she hates that and she doesn't want him to. Imagine her pulling a Nessa and calling him scum lfkjajkfkjfjkfaj ;A;!!!!! Imagine her so angry and hurt and resentful and saying awful things she doesn't mean and GOD I feel like it can go only one of these ways because what ELSE is going to stop her in her tracks?!

And I really want a reconciliation because parting like this sets them up for SO. MUCH. STRIFE. Because we know one way or another Shinae is going to end up taking Yui's offer and if Nol leaves on these terms, he would end up thinking she's following in Alyssa's footsteps doing so, not understanding WHY she's doing, not understanding that this is Shinae's only way of protecting herself, learning to speak Yui's language and play her game.

and idk I know I'm a hopeful optimist reading a webtoon that proves to me over and over that I cannot be a hopeful optimist but LMAO GOD I WANT SHINAE TO CONVINCE THAT DUMBO

I've said it before that convincing him doesn't mean they have to get into a relationship. Just. Reconcile. She's so afraid of LOSING HIM, thinking that once he slips away he's out of her grasp, her sight, for good, that she will lose the best thing that happened to her and I WANT THAT RECONCILATION. I want her to convince him, for both their sakes. So that he knows he has someone he can go back to. So that she knows he's not just throwing her away. So that she doesn't have to fear losing something so precious and important.

Am I foolish and hopeful for hoping for that outcome? Maybe, but it won't stop me LMAO because as delicious and angsty as Shinae and Nol following in Ressa's footsteps with Nol hurting her again and leaving her so hurt and angry is, I want to see them on that same page. I want to see Shinae convince him - convince him why he is so important to her, and that his feelings are real. That's the thing, right, like.... you can tell yourself that your feelings aren't real, but if the person you like confesses to you, your heart will inevitably betray you and respond to the confession. Nol fears for Shinae's safety but important puzzle pieces are falling into place. She has figured what he fears the most - and if she thinks hard enough she'll realize how she can use that to her "advantage", in that Rand has told her Yui will never let her go, that it doesn't matter if Nol leaves or not. It goes back to my oft repeated sentiment of them needing to be on the same page, to be a team, because his absence will not protect her. And between what Rand told her, plus her anecdotes about Kousuke's birthday and how Yui treated her even before the formal, and what Yujing told Nol about Kousuke being drugged by Yui, maybe, just MAYBE that conclusion that wasn't only him all along will finally hit him. I know he can't change over night, that he has so many deeply ingrained fears that won't be easily assuaged, but I have to hope that a confession from Shinae can convince him that the alternative is worse. Convince him to fight along side her ;A;

I go back and forth on this thought but I think this is strongly what I feel right now. That reconciliation could still be around the corner, even if it's just an admission and a promise to not push her away. Shinae is tired of people acting on her behalf, tired of not getting a say, and especially in something that involves her heart, her feelings?

Go fight girl and maybe bite him if that's what it takes ;A;

STEALING HER BANDANA. HER LINES. HERT HEART. THIS MAN DESERVES TO BE LOCKED AWAY

ALFJLFJLFKJLAFKJLKFJALKFJ

#I Love Yoo #ILY Brainrot #ILY Ask #ILY Spoilers #ILY FP #Shinae Yoo #Nolan Oliver T. Lochlainn #Stalkyoo #Aegi #oh you know just me wailing into the night about stalkyoo nbd alkfjjkafjkafjkajfkajfjaf lmao #I PLANNED TO ANSWER THIS AND BE CHILL BUT I DON'T HAVE CHILL and then when i was wailing about Shinae giving Nol the chance to leave and ho #part of why she is so desperate is she can't lose him again not when she almost did not when he came back not when she gave him the chance #to leave and he chose to stay and saw the parallel to Nessa and Rand and it was just ALL DOWNHILL FROM THERE LMAO #AGONY #ANGUISH #PLS PLS PLS LET ME GET WHAT I WANT #lmao #plssssssssssssssssssssss #can you imagine how awful it would be if they didn't reconcile until post time skip?! #jesus christ HOW do you even reconcile after that?! #HOWLS FOREVER

[staceymcgillicuddy]

annual writing self-evaluation

Thanks to @astorytotellyourfriends for the tag - I didn't do this last year!

1. List of works published this year (in the order that they were posted):

If She Lived in Space, Man, I'd Build A Plane crimson & clover pulling overtime model citizen; zero discipline what you give just serves me right two jack trippers and a chrissy perception check all my kinktober fills a hollow tree

2. Work you are most proud of (and why):

Gosh, that's hard. I'm proud of all of them for different reasons, and I have issues with all of them for different reasons. I guess I would say "what you give just serves me right" makes me happy, and was something I had to push myself to do, but I was pleased with how it turned out in the end.

3. Work you are least proud of (and why):

I hate that I have two fics out that I haven't updated in ages! I am not proud of that! And there are a few things in all of them that I'd tweak.

4. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

Oh golly. Alright, from a hollow tree, which was my Halloween fic featuring Lilith!succubus!Chrissy:

Fog slips into the van when he opens the door. A mist so thick it’s disorienting as he drops to the ground, and the shape of a girl forms itself out of the gloom.

5. Share or describe a favorite comment you received:

Almost every single regular commenter on Soul makes my heart sing and my panties drop, and I'm so sorry my brain is being stupid right now.

6. A time when writing was really, really hard:

Right goddamn now. It's like squeezing blood from a fucking stone, and I have no idea why, but everything comes out strained and blechy and I hate it, and I refuse to inflict it on anyone else so I'll just sit like a lump, churning out crap and never showing it to anyone.

7. A scene or character that you wrote that surprised you:

Genuinely did not think that I would get so into the Hopper/Chrissy/Eddie dynamic as I did when I wrote it as a crackship as part of kinktober. But, like, I could get DOWN with that shit.

Also, Hellcheerington surprised me. Oh, and writing Eddie's dad for Soul was weirdly cathartic? I was determined to make him a person and not a collection of cliches, which was easier said than done. I think I got there, in the end. Hope so, anyway!

8. How did you grow as a writer this year:

I didn't, I fucking regressed. Or, no, not really. I pushed myself a bit, tried to get sharper and cleaner with some prose. Read some theory books, worked on my rhetorical devices, forced myself to kill a couple darlings along the way (but not all the darlings, god damn it).

I also published a book, so yay?

9. How do you hope to grow next year:

I'd like to get back to writing original fiction. I've been in a slump with that, too, because it doesn't have the instantaneous feedback that fanfic does. I want to split my time between fic and pro writing stuff, and I want to be very realistic about how much mental energy my real job takes up. When I used to write like a madwoman, I didn't have the role I currently do, which is a senior project manager leading a team, working mostly with executive-level staff. Don't get me wrong, my job pisses me off a lot, and stresses me out, too, but it pays well and we live in a shithole of a society where money matters in the grand scheme of things.

So, like, I guess I hope to grow as a writer in writing even when my brain doesn't want me to, or it doesn't feel great to do so.

10. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

Freaking Shirley Jackson, man. That bitch can write.

11. Anything in your real life show up in your writing this year:

I'm always putting kinky shit I see or experience at the bdsm club into my fic. I am as God made me.

12. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

Everything is made up and the points don't matter. Stop comparing yourself to other authors. Turn off stats on your AO3. Write what you fucking want and quit worrying if other people are going to like it.

13. Any new projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

I'm going to be so, so glad when Soul is done because I love it so much but it is also the millstone around my neck.

14. Tag three writers/artists whose answers you’d like to read:

@binickandros, @pipergirl17 and @phoenixwrites please!

#ask meme #writing #personal #bsc diaries #i rambled a lot up there #thank u for reading if u got this far #gentle forehead kisses for you

[ragingstillness]

Finally getting around to watching CM:E

Thoughts thus far:

Rossi is sad and I remain pissed that they killed Krystal for no reason

Grey!Em is still my favorite thing

Happy to hear some swearing, the original show needed more of it

Let Rossi say fuck 2k24

“Remote Garcias” “we’re not gonna learn their names” lol Luke stays savage

“Anglophile baking club” oh come on Garcia. We all saw how shockingly queer everyone at that party is. It’s a kiki, plain and simple

Weren’t Luke and Garcia going to go on a date? Oh it’s been three years

“Take your carbs and exit sir” I love Garcia so much

“Hoo-ha” lol, burn Goop to the ground

“Korean drama” it’s a BTS anti unsub

Garcia straight up flapping I love her so much

Damn the writers for this Krystal flashback

Emily is gonna eat this Deputy Director alive

Oh thank fuck at least the rest of Dave’s family is alive

The Galvez cheek kiss *eeeee*

That little head kiss, Rossi’s such a dad/grandad

Damn Sicarius how do you have the time to dig all these holes?

Hahahahahaha I picked up on Tara and Rebecca at the same time as Emily

Waha Tara being openly queer!!!

Paget is like a proud mama that someone in the BAU finally gets to be queer

Dang this cashier girl is like literally saying exactly what I do at work

“My floof” I relate to this girl so hard

“Jagoff!” “Fuckhead!” Get his ass Rossi

Damn this therapy talk is so accurate go Garcia

Garcia and Rossi’s friendship is my Roman Empire

Man I can’t believe Sicarius actually thought that he could control obsessional killers. Dude, they aren’t going to listen to you

Sicarius you anti-retail asshole. I will dream of smashing you in the head with an axe from the hardware store where I work

Emily and Dave walking together both with grey hair look so cool now

“Is everyone but me getting laid?” “I’m not” lol ngl I appreciate the increased sexual humor

That’s my girl Garcia! I hate what it’s gonna do to your mental health to be back but I’m happy to see you

Dude if you’re gonna be a criminal psychopath with these amazing computer skills, how are you not at least making money off of it? Like, there is zero reason for you to be poor. Normally I wouldn’t say that about anyone but dude, are you seriously providing these kill kits for free?

Wait a sec he actually /took/ the dog? He didn’t just kill it? Dickhead!

“This fucking guy” yeah Rossi, read my mind about most unsubs on this show

Rebecca and Tara’s height difference is kind of killing me in this elevator scene they’re so cute

Garcia are you wearing Rocky Horror earrings? Love that

Haha fine furry friends returns

Dang y’all is Rossi the only one allowed to say fuck? It makes him sound like a teenager that just learned all the swear words. Let Garcia say fuck 2k24

I can’t believe that it’s an actual plot line that COVID prevented serial killers from killing so they had to change it up and go online. I’m sure the writers thought it sounded cool but it just sounds silly. What, did Sicarius’ first kill kits also include PPE?

Also why are these guys so willing to kill themselves for Sicarius? They seem like devoted to the cause and frankly, so many of these guys are narcissists and we’ve just seen one defy Sicarius, why are they listening to him? Seriously? No matter what he has on them, why would they consider it more important to follow his orders than their compulsions?

“You two-faced little jerk” yeah I hope he heard that

Soon we’re gonna be seeing Emily’s daydreams about killing people, not just Sicarius’.

Seriously, the idea of Sicarius having money problems is so dumb to me. He’s been shown to have immense resources and technological capability as well as ample time to use them. There is no reason why he should be financially unstable. I get that stuff like private school is expensive but dude, DUDE, you’re running a network of serial killers! It’s not THAT expensive! I feel like this whole plot point is set up to humanize him to a degree and it isn’t working well.

God whatever props guy worked on these posts for the fake forum Sicarius is using had fun. There’s a user named George_Jungle_fkr whose post consists of “I have a waifu, too!!! She lives in the jungle. I fuck in the jungle. I kill in the jungle.” With a profile picture of George of the Jungle. No shit. Pause on that screen, it’s wild. User GetHungry1893 with a post about not judging people and a profile pic of a man with bloody hands sucking on a bone. User NotSoFast with a drag racing car profile pic and with a post titled “I’m getting more guns!” That then goes on to use the phrase “waifu” and *wink wink*. User Tiredoftheblood101 with a bloodspot clipart profile pic and use of the term “OP”, asking about how to kill his MOM (capitalization his). Also in the background a user named Anonymous1232 with the anonymous logo as their profile pic.

Wait Sicarius actually has a real job? He wasn’t just bullshitting about it so he could travel all over the country? What, is running this serial killer network like a side hustle for him? Wait wait wait and he’s going on business trips that the company is actually sending him on? Like he’s following their directives? And driving a company car? This is insane. If they’re gonna characterize Sicarius the way they have been, none of this makes sense. Side note: the guy playing Sicarius is actually a good actor and after some of the previous disappointments (Scratch and the Chameleon) it’s nice to see.

This DEI discussion between Sicarius’ daughter and the redneck neighbor was not something I expected to see in Criminal Minds.

“You fucking beta cuck” yeah pretty much what I’d expect from a guy like this. But also, hysterical to hear incel language being used in real life. Damn man, you just called his daughter a bitch? He’s gonna flay you alive! I wouldn’t provoke anyone like that, even without knowing they’re the head of a serial killer network. Anyone can snap you dumbass.

“Somebody should do something about that guy.” Oh of course she says this to the serial killer. Good lord. “I’m glad you’re not that somebody.” Oh honey yes he is lol. Or he’ll send someone from the network to do it.

Ha I just realized that I carried a case exactly like the kill kit cases when I worked for the Red Cross. Contained equally suspicious things (needles, gauze, etc), if you didn’t know what company I was working for lol.

“Those who bankrolled you” then why is he having money problems god this is so dumb! “I’m not putting a gun to my head” yeah I predicted this would happen.

More hysterical users on Sicarius’ platform: User NotSoFast at it again “I miss my family. Bad aim” User Ript4u, with a muscular torso pic talking about the fruitlessness of love, calling people lemmings, “simps,” “bitchboy,” “I will dominate,” and the delightful paragraph “These bitches think they’re got it all figured out. Walking on a cloud of happy thoughts and unicorn farts.”

Haha Garcia said fan fiction! We made it to the mainstream lol.

“Honey let it go” woman he called your daughter a bitch! I’d punch him for that!

Damn Tara you’re gonna get your gf fired

“Typical bureaucratic bullshit” yes YES the old man is out! Rossi ur a king

Is Sicarius really there in person! That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. Oh wow he is what a dumbass! And so close to the bomb zone too! Did you want to get blown up too?!

Yeah bringing in domestic terror was a mistake.

“Excellent. I never wanted it in the first place” also kind of misogynistic to turn to Rossi after Emily rejected you.

“Wank-weasel” Garcia ur my spirit animal

“You’re a hedge fund manager with a badge. You have never done anything” get his ass Emily! I guess after Barnes the BAU has completely lost their patience for bureaucratic dickheads

“I just wanted you to hold my hand” they are soft gfs and I love them

About time one of the unsubs turned on Sicarius

Screw the propaganda that you can just make dogs eat people when they’ve been totally docile and relaxed their whole lives

Hey Sicarius, you remembering how annoying it is to do your own cleanup now?

Who the fuck is this guy Elias is hallucinating?

Genuinely curious how he finds time to make these custom foam inserts for the briefcases

Ok why is it taking so long to identify the victims found from Sicarius? This is set in 2022, DNA is fast and common.

Can’t believe this Tyler guy looked into Garcia enough to send her the encrypted locations but not enough to figure out she literally worked for the FBI. His anger over her handing over the info makes zero sense.

I know a lot of ppl hate Will for getting in the way of Jemily but he’s a very good husband. Patient, intelligent, cute. I like him.

“I believe you, but will Mom?” This new sibling energy between Rossi and Emily is everything. Also that burgundy blazer set is amazing on her.

I think Tyler has a little crush on Garcia. He just wants a woman who will kick his ass.

“Because of you I feel safe in our home” so cute literally so romantic I love them when they’re sweet

Only tangentially related but I’d love to see an episode where a serial killer breaks into another serial killer’s house. Like would it go “whoops my bad” or “you asshole you jacked my plan!” or would they just kill each other

Garcia’s little rant is hilarious

“I’m not a problem. I’m a delight. I’m a little dramatic but wonderful” yes you are Garcia

I almost believe the deputy director truly didn’t want to be overseeing this case. My guess, without watching the episode, is that he wants to prove he has some field experience so Emily can’t use it against him anymore. Also he might have a small crush on her and be a little afraid of Rossi. This season is full of men who like dominant women and I support that. I don’t support any sort of relationship between this man and Emily but I support the concept

“Bullshit. She broke your heart.” Welcome to working with profilers sir.

Also finally figured out what Emily’s scathing inditement of the deputy director reminded me of: it’s Hotch’s profiling of his team to defend them against Strauss

Emily’s smile when she finally got one over the deputy director, so pretty

Garcia and her ‘puter like she literally did the cat meme

Ok the orange crocs are a sin I would throw a folder at him too

Not surprised Will doesn’t have cancer but pissed they even teased us with it.

Haha Garcia is gonna make that dude keep the cat lol

Oh hey Sicarius. Nice to see you. Gonna kill a senator now?

lol Sicarius is like yeah I’m not sticking around for this freaky Oedipal shit. You can bankroll me, but I’m not into voyeurism on this

I know we’re supposed to be worried but 1) using a streaming site undercuts the tension of thinking a character will die and 2) that was the sexiest wheels up ever

Hahaha wow they didn’t even try to give us a realistic justification for Sicarius taking off his shirt

#cm #cme #cm:e #criminal minds #criminal minds evolution

[ssreeder]

oh my god. oh my goodness fucking gracious me.

so I just have to tell you that I found your fic this morning and I fucking SPEEDED through that shit (even though it was SO long--IM NOT COMPLAINING I LOVE LONG FICS) but oh my god. oh my god

you're so talented??? first of all, like I'm on my knees wondering where all this came from. like you came up with this?? it was in your head?? and you wrote it by yourself? oh my god reSPECT

also it's so beautifully written‼️‼️ I went back and looked at the character development and the everything because good lord it was so well paced. like I was on the edge of my bed seat during every single chapter. good lord

zukka + all of ATLA is my current hyperfixation and your fic has soothed me so completely

jesus christ on a cracker do you understand how talented you are?? do you *grabs you aggressively by the shoulders and stares deeply into your eyes* DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW INCREDIBLE AND SKILLFUL AND GORGEOUS THIS IS??? PLEASE

okay but in all seriousness, here are some of my favorite lines(mostly from the last chapter because jesus fuck I do nOT have time to scroll back through everything your wrote):

"And here he was, all these years later… not used to it. He knew he would never get used to the blood curdling scream a person made when the fire stripped their body clean and their bones were reduced to nothing but a pile of ash and a terrible smell.

No wonder the world referred to them as ash-makers."

Jesus fucking fuck. CHILLS BBY I HAD CHILLS

"Watch out for your little brother" OHOHOHO HEHEEEE

"'Your teacher will be someone who has mastered Neutral Jing. You need to find someone who waits and listens before striking. Do not worry about your old friend Aang, he isn’t buried in the ground yet!' Bumi cackled the way that he had since they were just kids.

...

'The white lotus Pai Sho piece? I don’t have a set, no one else knows how to play.'"

AHAHAH THE TOPH AND UNCLE IROH DROP IM GOING TO BE SICK

"I'll go wherever you go." KILLING MYSELF WHY ARE THEY SO SWEET

anyway that's enough from me (I feel like you should know I typed all of this while either rolling around on the floor screaming or sitting very still with a DEEPLY disturbing (so I'm told) and very somber expression on my face).

i hope you have a lovely day you gorgeous beautiful perfect human being

This is me reading your ask… dude wtf this is so nice!!!!

I AM BEING SHOULDER GRABBED WITH LOVE AND I REALLY LIKE IT AHHHHH!!! its so funny because its been so long since i wrote the first book you sent me those quotes and im like uhhhuhhh ohhh yeah mhmmmm wait i wrote that?? Haha (except the “watch out for your little brother”) cause that was twisted in a way that made me smirk.. haha that sentence meant so much!!! (I do think the bumi quote was directly from canon though so I take zero credit for that just trying to keep it canon haha)

I’m glad you like my writing enough to come scream at me. I love when people scream kind words at me I WANT TO BE SHOULDER GRABBED WITH PRAISE MORE AHHHHH!!!

thanks for this epic ask you’re fucking amazing never change

#Unless you wanna change #Then fucking change I support you #But I love my shoulder grab thank uou #Funny story I feel like your ask has the same vibes as my authors notes haha #Sometimes I start writing those things and I seriously black the fuck out and then come back and it’s written #But damn it you made me smile so much #Thank you #Like seriously thank you #Some people don’t realize how much these asks and comments mean to people #Especially to me #I cherish each one and they inspire me so mucj #So seriously YOURE FUCKING AWESOME #Mythology-void #LIAB #Leaving it all behind #Ask

[inklyqueen]

Literally all the critics are so up in their egos

Also Spoiler warnings for the Mario movie because I'm crying and yk it's opening day I'm not that kind of bitch

I don't think many of them understand that they've got it made rn, and they've never experienced the world some of us are living in

And I don't mean it in a mental health sense or anything, I mean in an actual survival as an adult sense

I was literally surprised by how much I related to Mario specifically. He's the oldest. I'm the oldest of six (under a technicality, two of them are my dad's girlfriend's kids but yk). I'm sure his parents have preached that he needs to take care of and watch out for his younger brother (I'm assuming they're still twins in this universe, Mario was always the older twin in the games and other lore), and I've been preached that too. I'm the same way with my siblings as Mario is with Luigi. Throw trash at my sister, see that happens. "The more you fuck around, the more you're gonna find out." And at the end of the day, my parents will be only in my memories at some point, and all I'll have left is my siblings, granted if I never get married, have kids, etc (God willing I hope, not the point though) It seems to me that Mario is incredibly aware of that too, that one day they'll both be at an age where it's literally only him and Luigi and that they may literally be the only one the other has.

What also struck me was the set-up they showed with the boys. They still live with Mom and Dad, still in their childhood bedroom(s?), just trying to find their footing, I assume they want to be independent of their parents. They put their life savings into a commercial to get their company off the ground. I'm assuming they didn't have very much in the first place, especially from the speech their father gave about how "you can't just give up a steady job for a dream," and how Mario (at least specifically I'm assuming) can't hold down a job in the first place. How he's the one that's bringing Luigi down, as if Luigi can't make a decision for himself, and Mario's like his legal guardian or something. It very much seems to me that they've literally leaned on each other for almost everything more than their own parents, and that's screaming volumes for me.

I still live with my parents, and I get the same grief as well over how I haven't gotten it all figured out still. C*vid was zero help, I wasn't even a year out of high school when it hit, I was just starting college and things were not going very well. I'm just now figuring out my degree program, what I want, trying to get my career off the ground, and getting money back in the bank. I can't afford rent, God no, and I'm blessed to have a job that covers tuition now.

But it seems to me that critics don't understand that. For some reason they want this incredible fleshed-out character arc, plot and overreaching plot, Oscar and Emmy winning from day one piece, and besides the fact that this is technically intended for children, some of the ones I've read are literally making just under upper-to-upper class pay and lifestyles by being that judgemental. They don't have to worry about gas (or the electric bills if they have an electric car) in the tank or food on the table or making rent. One said that they "failed to give Mario a personality" (paraphrasing), when literally I'm seeing myself and my survival struggles in this short moustachioed plumber with older sibling anxiety.

Which, I'm pretty sure he's got a mild touch of GAD, or maybe that's me projecting. I'm not a licensed anything. Also added bonus points because I'm shorter than all of the siblings that are at an age to have actual height. One of my siblings is in high school rn and she's taller than me by a good eight inches. I'm six years older than her.

I'm literally out here doing the best I can with a $200 Insurance payment coming and $80 in the bank.

So yeah. Mario is a really good character.

So thankful for him.

#mario movie #and dont get me started on the forehead touch #i wept #so much #mario movie spoilers #can the critics just let me enjoy something for once? #super mario #like jfc

[morsartis]

Victory Spoils

Mallek Adalov x Male!Reader

When you made this bet you had phrased it as a half joke. Nothing serious, easily waved off as two immature idiots having a go at each other. A ‘winner takes all’ type of deal, hell you figured Mallek would forget the original bet after a few rounds. 

Empty chip bags littered the ground, their shiny surfaces only illuminated by the glow of the TV as Mallek destroyed you at COD. You were half convinced he was cheating, Call of Duty wasn’t even an Alternian game. That was why you’d picked it. In all your years on Alternia you hadn’t found a single troll equivalent that wasn’t flarping. Which- terrifying honestly. With troll’s propensity for violence you figured COD would have had its debut on a planet like this. But it hadn’t and so you had ignorantly assumed this would be the game you’d beat Mallek at. 

“There is no possible way you aren’t cheating!” You shouted barely maintaining your grip on the controller not to throw it across the room as you threw your arms in the air. How was he this good at it? He had to be cheating there was no way-

“Maybe you just suck at this dude.” He shrugged teasingly, a grin spreading across his face as you spluttered indignantly. 

Glaring up at him from where you’d taken the floor and a pillow to get comfy you only grew more enraged by his clear enjoyment of your loss. 

“Bullshit! How are you good at this?! COD isn’t even on Alternia!”

“Ha!” He laughed, “You call this ‘COD’? That = ridiculous. Start the next round.” 

“Oh fuck you.” You snapped turning back to the screen. With your back to him you missed the way Mallek seemed to zero in on the game with a single minded focus that would have been terrifying to be on the receiving end of. You had no idea what you’d just dangled in front of him with your bet, and how could you? He’d been nothing but careful in making sure you had no idea. 

You were his robobuddy after all.

He’d entertained round after round of this game, ruthlessly tearing through enemies in a way that would have brought a tear of pride to The Empress herself. In the beginning he’d briefly entertained the thought of letting you win a round or two, just to prolong the inevitable, but it died in the face of your clear indignation at being thwarted in your own playing field. Now he was simply driving the losses home with each and every win he stacked up. 

Groaning in defeat you tossed the controller aside. The bet entirely forgotten as you grumbled and pouted to no one in particular. 

“Damn. I guess I’ll have to find another game to beat you at, huh Mallek?” You hummed, regaining some of your cheer as you stood and stretched out your back. It popped satisfyingly as you bent yourself nearly in half. Behind you Mallek was unusually silent.

“Mallek?” You questioned turning towards him in concern. In a flash you found yourself pinned under him to the couch. 

“I win.” He hummed, settling himself between your legs contentedly. Stretching himself out like a snake as he got comfortable you could only blink up at him in momentary confusion.

“Uh, yeah..?”

Mallek’s smile was snake-like as he stared down at you and it took more strength of will than you were comfortable with not to shift in arousal. God you hoped you weren’t about to pop a boner that would be beyond awkward. You felt like prey and not in the scary ‘you’re going to die way’ either. He settled further on top of you, arms bracketing your head as he continued staring. Swallowing thickly you found yourself staring back at him. 

“Remember your little bet?” He asked leaning down further, it took a minute for your brain to catch up. Breath caught in your lungs and eyes wide you attempted to back up only to realize how futile it was when you were already pressed into the couch. 

“Oh-,” There were about fifty excuses you could think of off the top of your head.

Every last one of them fled the minute Mallek said those next little words that sealed your fate completely. 

“I’m gonna own you.” 

#mallek adalov #mallek x reader #male reader #the lack of male reader fics is unsurprising but disappointing #I'm gonna change that #been feeling hella masc lately so tada #friendsim #hiveswap #homestuck #reader insert #giving my favorite hacker some love #seriously can he blow m- *ahem* #anyway #just a little something that's been sitting in my drafts #might need a part two honestly

[chihirolovebot]

red velvet and oolong.

feat. tsumugi shirogane/reader

synopsis. your first date with tsumugi shirogane, the girl in your class you've been crushing on for months.

content. pure fluff, zero angst look at me go, gender neutral reader, pseudo-confessions, non killing game au, college au, first date, food/eating mention, cats, dubious genshin lore.

words. 2019

notes. for nex!! u absolute gem. i really hope u like this :*

commission me or leave a tip!

You’re going to be late.

The train to central street notoriously waits for nobody—you’re going to have to run to the station, at this point. You wanted to be gone seven and a half minutes ago, but you’re still here, in your room, panicking over which pair of shoes to wear.

The flats would be comfier, but the sneakers go better with your jeans…

Cursing, you fling both aside and drag out a safe alternative, a worn pair of combats, snatch up your coat and head for the door. As you hurry down the road to the station, you pull out your phone and check your missed notifications.

There—at the top—is one that makes your heart lurch. 

Shirogane <3

>> hello !!! just checking we’re still on for today (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

>> im getting there for around 1:30… that’s alright, isn’t it?

Quickly, you fire off a reply confirming both your appearance and the time. You almost can’t believe it—you’re actually going on a date with Shirogane. Today. Now, if whatever gods are watching allow it. The girl in your textiles design course you’ve been crushing on for the better part of a year, the one who takes a seat diligently at the back of class but is always the first to raise her hand when the topic interests her. The one who unabashedly uses the practical time to craft the most intricate cosplays you’ve ever seen, and should someone inquire about them, will engage them in conversations often topping half an hour. You sit on the other side of the class, watching the light sparkle off her glasses, the pretty flush on the apples of her cheeks, her curtain of ink-dark hair sway as she rambles about some manga you’ve never heard of. 

Once, you’d passed her as she was carefully applying a row of train-track stitches with white thread down the side of some sort of cream-coloured waistcoat, shaded with midnight blue and gold accents. You’d only questioned the method, watching her pale, polished fingers work so steadfastly, and you’d somehow gotten roped into help sew the other side for practice whilst she told you all about the character.

“So you see,” Shirogane babbled as she sewed, “because he doesn’t like to show his face in public so much, many people get the idea that he’s a little boring or even just some kind of figurehead. But, if you really look into the lore, you’ll know that he shouldn’t be underestimated—after all, it was him that managed to stabilise the Yashiro Commission and Kamisato Clan, and he couldn’t have done that without a certain degree of cunning, you know?”

You hadn’t believed in love at first sight until that day, really. 

The things you love about Shirogane are the things a majority of the student body seems to find strange or off-putting. Her exuberance, her passion, the way she can talk for hours about something you’ve never heard of without making it seem boring. Sometimes, when you feel lazy, you leave your own coursework untouched and occupy yourself twirling little braids in her long, shiny hair as she rambles to you. 

It’s good. It’s nice.

You were sort of content to keep it as a weirdly touchy friendship—Shirogane is passionate in everything, and it was almost impossible to discern whether her feelings towards you were platonic or not. But the other week, when you’d been sharing lunch under one of the apple blossom trees on the college grounds, she’d been delicately picking at a sandwich. She was doing that thing where she tore chunks off the bread and popped them in her mouth instead of taking bites. One swallow left her with a smear of sauce on the corner of her mouth, and without thinking you’d reached out to wipe it away. Your thumb made the faintest graze over her lower lip as you did, and you watched, frozen, as Shirogane’s whole face darkened with a spectacular blush. 

For once, she stopped talking. You missed the song of her voice immediately, but it seemed she did, indeed, have an off-switch. Your hand on her face.

You asked her out the next day. She agreed. And now here you are, trying to will yourself not to sweat as you hurry off your train into the central city. It’s not too busy, thankfully, and you manage to clamber off and out of the city station with around fifteen minutes to spare. You take a moment to readjust your clothes, press a hand to your cheek and nervously pop another mint before setting off in your intended direction. 

You’re nervous. Man, it’s been a while since you got nervous like this. Shirogane is just so… well, you haven’t wanted something to go right this badly for a while, to put it lightly. Maybe it’s just ‘cause you’re in the same class, and a disaster of a date would make it extremely awkward.

Then again. Maybe it’s the delighted gleam in her dark eyes when she realises you’re listening to her. Maybe it’s the liquid lightning that zips directly to your brain when your fingers brush, hers cool and soft and smelling like the cinnamon-scented moisturiser she uses. Maybe it’s the little squeak she lets out when you greet her with a hug from behind, the way she buries her face in your neck in embarrassment. 

Maybe it’s just her.

She’s waiting at the fountain in the middle of the city square, fiddling with her phone. It’s a bulky thing, its sky-blue case studded with keyrings and stickers and gems, cutesy between her nails. They’re painted, you realise with a throb of affection. Candy-pink. You’ve seen her bite them in school a lot, so there isn’t much to paint, but you think it’s so sweet that she tried. As you approach, she spots you suddenly, flusters, and makes a show of clambering to her feet, tucking her hair behind her ear awkwardly.

She looks so pretty that it almost stops your heart in your chest. You’ve always thought she was cute, no matter how she protested or insisted on how plain-looking she was, but here in the soft noon light, she’s almost unreal. A soft blue sweater adorned with white clouds drapes itself over her shoulders, falls over a white skirt that hangs to her ankles. Her hair is pinned back from her face for once with white hairclips. The coordination floors you, although really it shouldn’t. What else would you expect from someone who puts as much love and care into their clothes as Shirogane?

“Hey,” you greet her breathlessly as you finally get close enough to be within earshot. She jumps.

“Hello!” she squeaks. “Hi! Um, you look lovely.”

“Ah, thanks.” You pick at your outfit consciously. Are your ears burning? “You, erm… you haven’t been waiting long, have you?”

Shirogane gives an airy laugh. “Well, no, not really. Um. To tell you the truth, I’ve been here since around twelve. I really didn’t want to be late. It’s fine!” she hastens to add, seeing your stricken expression. “I had time to wander around some bookstores, see?” She holds up a plastic bag bulging with volumes. “So it’s—it’s really no trouble.”

“If you’re sure…” You bite your lip. “So—are you hungry?”

Shirogane beams; it lights up her whole face. “Oh, starving!” 

Relief breaks over you as Shirogane loops her arm through yours, as the two of you begin to walk. Why did you think this would be any different from school? It’s Shirogane. She’s Shirogane there and Shirogane here. She still pushes her glasses up when she talks. She still smells like cinnamon and plastic. She still smiles at you all the same. 

When you arrive at your destination, you carefully watch as her eyes glaze over in amazement. She looks from the place, to you for confirmation, and then back again, head shaking wildly. “Oh,” she says, hushed, awed. “Oh, is this…”

You squeeze her arm. “I thought you might like it.”

She turns wide, dark eyes to you, glimmering with the delight of a thousand stars. “A cat cafe?!”

You laugh and lead her inside. She steps over the floorboards like it’s holy ground, eyes round as coins and reverent as she peers around, awestruck. The host checks your name and leads you to a booth by the window; the seats are cushy, candy-pink, and just to your left is a scratching pole occupied by a fat ginger kitten. 

Shirogane sinks into her chair, hands clasped. She can’t stop looking around. 

“Is it okay?” you dare to ask, hesitant to break the spell but starting to get a little unnerved by the silence. Abruptly, Shirogane turns her stunned gaze to you, face breaking out in a sunlit smile. 

She reaches across the varnished-wood table and clasps your hands. “It’s wonderful. It’s just wonderful. I’ve always wanted to come somewhere like this, but I plain forget to make bookings…” She looks at you, touched. “Thank you. It’s… lovely. It’s so lovely.”

You can feel your face beginning to burn; her fingers feel so hot against yours. You’re thankful as a waiter brings over complimentary glasses of water, gulping your share down quickly. The glasses are frosted with cute little cat faces picked out. 

The whole place is almost overwhelmingly cute, actually. Lace doilies act as placemats, and the menus are studded with stylistic kittens with eyes round as coins and pink button noses. Plastic vines and strawberry-shaped fairylights string the ceiling and dangle over you. And—

A soft black cat at your feet stretches and leaps nimbly, landing heavily in Shirogane’s lap. She looks like she’s about to cry.

The waiter laughs as she wanders back over to take your orders. “That’s Jiji,” she tells the dark-haired girl, who is stretching out a shaky hand to stroke over the cat’s soft back. It twitches, curls up against her stomach and appears to go to sleep. “She’s very friendly, but really sleepy, too. Can I get you guys something to drink to start?”

With one last fond look at Shirogane and Blair, you order a red velvet latte; waveringly, Shirogane orders oolong tea. When the waiter leaves again, Shirogane looks up at you slowly.

“This is,” she begins, hushed. “This is the best day ever.”

Something warm and full bubbles in your chest, like a flower giving bloom in spring. “It’s barely even started yet, Shirogane.”

“I don’t care,” she insists, legs kicking at the booth chair as though in example of her obstinacy. “Oh, I plain don’t care. Nothing could ruin it. I—I mean, this place, and Jiji, and you…” She trails off, going pink, but bravely doesn’t break eye contact. You feel like you’re melting. “It’s just perfect. It’s—it’s everything I ever wanted. I thought you’d be plain sick of me, by now…”

Her free hand—the one that isn’t occupied stroking Jiji—drums anxiously on the table. You don’t think, really, because if you think about it for too long you’ll get cold feet. You just move; your fingers thread themselves through hers, conscious of how much rougher they seem. Shirogane stares down at your interlocked hands, mouth agape, eyes perfect circles.

You clear your throat, face burning. “I don’t,” you start, then swallow. “I wouldn’t want to be here with anyone but you. I’m… God, I don’t think I could ever get sick of you, Shirogane.”

Her lip wobbles. “Oh,” she cheeps out, a little bit like a baby bird. “Oh, I… I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of you either.”

And that—that feels like a confession, of sorts. Shirogane is blushing like it was one, and your face is certainly on fire, and your hand is still holding hers, after all. When the waiter comes back with your drinks, you see that the foam on yours has been powdered with a decorative cinnamon heart. Shirogane only goes redder when she sees it, quickly bringing her steaming tea to her mouth and taking a generous gulp.

You can’t help but wonder, in some far-flung part of your mind, if she’d taste like oolong if you kissed her. 

#🗞; writing tag. #danganronpa x reader #tsumugi shirogane #tsumugi shirogane x reader #danganronpa headcanons #danganronpa #drv3 #drv3 x reader #drv3 headcanons #killing harmony x reader #shirogane x reader #tsumugi x reader #shirogane headcanons #danganronpa fluff #drv3 fluff #killing harmony fluff

[nayruwu]

idk if you are into tarot cards but I've been thinking about which tarot card fits which character in ons & putting aside the obvious sun moon star world, I think the devil card really embodies guren while the temperance is so shinya in his life & mahiru being the tower to him. If you get time to look up the meanings & what these card means to one another then I would like to know your thoughts even if you associate other cards with them I am interested to know your views as you always come up with angsty gureshin analysis I love reading them. :D

hellooo! :D sorry this took so long, but my knowledge of tarot cards was essentially zero so i had to do some research. i read up on the three you mentioned and then also on the sun & the moon because they did pique my interest as well. and i like your thinking!

just looking at the card of the devil itself is already enough to link it to guren. it represents your raw instincts and giving in to those pure unfiltered desires. the balance between good and evil. that's very guren. he has a pure heart, he has noble goals and yet there was no choice for him but to fall into darkness to achieve them. there is no way for him to be simply "good". he could not walk on the right path because he was too human. (there's also two people, a man and a woman, depicted at the devils' side, said to have fallen under his magnetic presence. and if you take that less metaphorically than it's meant it is absolutely hilarious)

now when you actually get that card in a reading, it means that there's some form of negative presence in your life that you've fallen victim to and don't think you can ever free yourself from. most of the time, this means addictions, bad habits or relationships that hold you back from becoming what you're meant to be. i wonder who that could be! but what else stood out to me here was that "with The Devil, you are choosing the path of instant gratification, even if it is at the expense of your long-term well-being". okay. give in to that weakness now and suffer tremendously for the next nine years. yeahhh.

the temperance represents patience as well as staying grounded and calm. knowing your path, knowing the outcome and being at peace with it. and yeah, shinya is definitely that levelheaded counterpart. stay human, stay weak and accept that it will kill you. stop struggling, stop fighting. "bound by the earth and natural law" - "but it's not like i could break free of my human limitations and become some sort of god". (i think it's also cute that the person on this card is an angel.)

... and then the tower is just absolute chaos. realising suddenly and horrifyingly as everyone he loves does that his path is a lie, it cannot be treaded, and he is pulled onto mahiru's road of insanity. he is questioning himself, his beliefs and his purpose. although i can't quite bring myself to agree with the "it's for your highest good" part. the tower says you will suffer but come out of it stronger and better. yes, maybe mahiru's path will lead guren to his goal, but it really is questionable whether it will all have been worth it in the end. the guilt will never leave him, his relationship with shinya is fucked even if a miracle happens and they make up somehow, and pretty much everything mahiru has done to those around her to get this far is irredeemable. so i'm a little split on that end. i wonder how the story will handle it... if at all with the speed we're going at.

i also like the sun and the moon with their naïvety and repressed feelings, but you're right, those other three do fit better!

this was a blast. i hope i didn't interpret anything the wrong way :>

#most of the time i was actually staring at my phone blankly trying to come up with a coherent thought it was quite difficult #take my mush! #owari no seraph #seraph of the end #shinya hiiragi #guren ichinose #mahiru hiiragi #sorry for liking shinya too much. sorry

[whore4batfam]

Here’s what I wrote for the third chapter of birds all sing years ago:

Hell.

Hell hell hell hell hell hell hell. 

Tim heaved a breath, feeling a blister pop on his hand. He gritted his teeth. 

This was fine. Well, no, it was hell, but nothing he couldn’t handle. He had been thrown out of a window once, he could deal with pushing a car up a highway while some asshole heckled him from behind. 

Granted, when he was thrown to his death at least there was at least ventilation. Gotham in August felt like living in a sweatbox. 

Tim thought back fondly of the wind ruffling his hair as he descended through gravity. Man, what he’d do to go back, just to feel the cool air rush past his ears, a slight breeze, damnit, anything--

BEEEEEEEEP.

“Fuck off,” he growled under his breath, halfheartedly. The honker hadn’t let up for twenty minutes, and Tim didn’t have high hopes. The opportunity to merge had come and gone several times over; the Gothamite just had dedication. 

“Tim! Switch!”

“No,” he shouted. “No, we’re almost to the hill, you need to stay to hit the brake!”

“You hit the brake!”

Tim opened his mouth, but was interrupted by another long, drawn-out honk. He whirled around, middle fingers already lifted, but froze when he saw a black bugatti across traffic.

“Oh my god.”

-

“Is that Tim?”

A figure slipped while pushing a 2003 corolla, narrowly missing a faceplant by hastily dropping a knee. He picked himself and pushed again, shaking sweat from his hair.

Selina didn’t bother to answer. She ignored the shouts and honks and death threats as Bruce cut across three lanes of traffic. She placed her head in her hands.

-

“The hill is coming up!”

“Great,” Tim muttered. His knee hurt. Plus, he was pretty sure the heckler behind him tried to run him over when he tripped. He swiped at his neck where sweat prickled. Thank god he decided to ditch the suit today. He would be dead in wool. 

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP.

“We’re moving!” he shouted behind him. “We’re doing our best, fuck off!”

They kept laying on the horn. Tim clenched his fists against the hot metal of the car. They honked again, this time throwing a drink out the window. It bounced off the guardrail, soda splashing Tim’s legs. 

That’s it.

“Go the FUCK around!!”

A car door slammed. Tim stiffened. Somehow, he just knew who that was. He knew it. He just fucking knew it.

-

“Take the wheel,” Bruce instructed Selina through the open window. 

“Babe, wait--” 

Bruce had already jogged over. Selina grumbled and clambered over the center console, kicking off her heels. 

-

Two hands came up on either side of Tim’s head, pushing the corolla forward. It heaved several feet and kept going. Tim scrambled to get out from under Bruce, ducking beneath his arms. The man kept pushing the car forward. Tim watched as it basically glided against the tarmac. He ran to catch up, planting his hands on the corner of the trunk. Bruce moved aside to give him room. Tim couldn’t help it; he smiled. Together, they pushed it up over high top of the hill. 

A delighted shriek came pealing out the window. Tim laughed. 

The car whizzed down the hill and they raced after it. Well, Tim was racing. He looked at Bruce in the corner of his eye. The man looked like he was on a mild spring trot, face set in that perpetual disapproval he always seemed to have whenever Tim was around. 

Instantly Tim’s chest seized with resentment. 

Right. Welcome to the fuck-up squad, Timmy still at zero.

The car rolled on, finally turning off a shoulder when the highway widened. The bugatti slowly pulled up behind them, keeping the car mob from descending and crushing them. Tim followed the cars onto the distressed grass, which was really more dirt at this point. He wished he could sit down or something, but didn’t feel comfortable with Bruce being there. Just standing. There. Like that. 

He kicked at the ground, listening to Steph pull the car into park. Bruce surveyed the bugatti, motioning Selina forward. She sent him a thumbs up, and then purposely backed up. 

Bruce sighed, turning around. Tim’s hands were deep in his pockets, and he was trying to rub his forehead against his shoulder inconspicuously. Bruce noticed he was also trying to avoid his eyes, so he stepped forward, focus like a tank, and said: “You haven’t been accepting my calls.”

Tim blinked at him. Seriously. Seriously? He wanted to do this now?

“Gee, I wonder why?”

The words were out of his mouth before his brain even formulated a response. Tim hissed in agitation at himself. 

“I want to know why you haven’t been answering my calls,” Bruce said, nonplussed. “What if there had been an emergency?”

“Was there?” Tim countered. 

Bruce set his jaw. “No.”

“Well, there you go.”

Silence. 

“But what if there had been?”

“Well, Bruce,” Tim said, shrugging his shoulders, “you’ve got plenty of other people to help you. You don’t need me. In fact, why don’t you get those guys you’re planning to give the WayBucks department to, I think they’d be useful in an emergency--”

“Don’t be childish,” he snapped. 

“You’re the one infantilzing me,” Tim snapped back. “I’m just exceeding expectations here.”

A beat.

“Tim, can we at least--”

“Are you still planning on handing over my department?” he interrupted. Bruce didn’t reply. “Are you still trying to get the board of directors to oust me?” No response. Tim exhaled. “Are you here to offer me back my position and agree to let things resume as before?”

“No.”

“So that’s it,” breathed Tim. “After all this bullshit, and you still--you know what? I don’t have time for this.”

He swiveled on his heel, stepping over in the direction of the car--

Bruce grabbed his arm. 

"You're an asshole, you're an asshole, you're an ASSHOLE, you know that, right?!" Tim shouted, ripping his arm away and shoving Bruce.

Bruce took a complimentary step back. “Yeah, I know,” he said, as if this entire process was commonplace. 

Tim shook his head, moving to walk towards the car but Bruce made an abortive movement to take his arm again. Tim whirled around. “WHAT do you fucking WANT from me?!” 

“Tim—” Bruce began, but Tim interrupted him. 

“Like what is your fucking DEAL, huh? Huh?!” He flung his arms into the air. “You want to push me into an early grave, keep me locked in your basement working out algorithms? Wrap me up in 600 thread count sheets and roll me into moving traffic? Stuff college brochures UP MY ASS?!”

Horns blared as traffic sped up. Faces peered out windows, lollygagging at the two figures on the grass. 

“I didn’t know you felt that way,” Bruce said slowly.

Tim dry-washed his face. “Fucking hell, you couldn’t guess? I left the state to get away from you, I spent my birthday in--”

“I’ve been trying to help you,” he continued. “Excuse me for thinking your life needed an incentive.”

“I don’t need your help!”

“Really.”

“Yes!”

Bruce cast an indiscreet glance around. “I can so obviously see that.”

Ouch. 

#birds all sing

[gravelydevoted3]

finished editing the first two chapters of meathook, so i’m celebrating by sharing the first chapter with everyone! it’s just under 4k words, and i think it’s got some pretty cool scenes in it, so i hope you all like it!

for those not in the know, Meathook is my first foray into adult fiction, a crime drama thriller that follows a federal agent and the serial killer that he’s trying to catch. 

Mercer is breathless by the time he rounds the corner of the long, dark hallway, gun drawn, shoulder to the wall. He catches sight of Officer Jackson, a closed door, and wires running all along the wall, thick bundles of black heavy duty electric cords. Split seconds; you think fast or you lose the person that you’re trying to get.

“Fuck!” Mercer barrels his shoulder hard into Jackson’s side, sending the officer off step. The man comes up swinging and gets a hard hit in to the side of Mercer’s jaw. There’s a blast of pain, heat, and then Mercer jams the barrel of his gun at the other man’s chest. “Back the fuck up! Back the God damned fuck up!”

Jackson skids backwards, hands up. “What the Hell are you doing here?” And then, “my partner’s in there! Get out of the way!”

“Use your fucking eyes!” Mercer doesn’t lower the gun. If Jackson pushes and tries to open the door anyway, Mercer will take out a knee and deal with the paperwork later. “That door is rigged to Hell and back! You open it now and who knows what the God damned fuck is going to happen.” Mercer side steps closer to the door, planting himself between it and Jackson. “Back to the wall!”

“Back to the – this is ridiculous! We are on a time limit!”

Mercer knows all about the time limit. But when it comes to the Butcher, the rules of his tests are all very specific. Mercer has been a federal agent for almost thirty years, and he’s never come across a killer that does things in such a specific manner.

But that just means that Jackson is acting like an idiot, thinking he can charge through clearly rigged doors when the rules of the test implied that the Butcher wanted to teach Jackson a lesson in patience.

“I’ve seen the timers. Heard the tapes, too. I didn’t charge in here God damned blind, you jackass. He told you to wait.” Mercer insists.

“He’s got - “

“Back to the wall,” repeats Mercer. “I won’t make it a request the next time.”

Jackson hesitates – eyes the gun, unwavering in the dark of the hall, one faulty hanging bulb flickering above them – and then steps back towards the opposite wall, both hands held up slightly above him. “Alright, alright. I’m backing up.”

Mercer eyes the man, keeps his gun drawn when he reaches out with the other hand, feeling over the sides of the door for any hair trigger latches. There’s a monitor above it, counting down. Seconds are left. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. No way to disconnect the wires. Could shoot the monitor, but that won’t disengage whatever the count down’s attached too.

The tape said not to come in before the timer is up. Don’t let your obsession get the best of you; Jackson, obsessed with finding Colin, obsessed with cracking this case. If this is the same bastard that took Harding two months ago, then it won’t matter. That test was rigged, set to fail from the very start. No way out, even if she followed all the rules. But if it’s not – the Butcher sticks to the rules of his own tests. And those rules are the only chance anyone is going to have of catching him. Five. Four. Three.

“What are you waiting for?” Jackson barks.

“What the Hell do you think?” Two. One. Zero. Mercer throws the door open, gun out, “FBI, put your God damned hands up!”

Dark room. Smells like stagnant water, air cold as a freezer. Thick cords run in bundles on the ground; and there is Officer Colin Burkeart with a noose around his neck, and there is Detective Mark Sommers strung up from the ceiling. Near them, there’s a man in a dark hoodie, reaching for something.

“Hands up,” Mercer says again, stepping further into the room. The man doesn’t listen – there’s an old mechanical console sitting next to him, and the thing looks like it might still be functional. Mercer shoots before the hooded man has a chance to press any buttons, bang, BANG, and the man hits the ground.

There’s muffled screaming. Mercer tugs the old flip phone from his back pocket and pitches it over his shoulder. It hits the ground, bounces, and skids to a halt at Jackson’s feet. “Call for backup, first button.”

Ignoring Jackson after that, Mercer moves slowly over to the body. Dark red blood is already spilling out onto the cement around him. A foot to the chest has the man rolling over, hood sliding back to reveal a familiar pinched face. It’s Terrence Williams, the lawyer that’s been sitting pretty near the top of Mercer’s suspect list since he first washed into this city. “I God damn knew you were in on it.”

It doesn’t matter. The man’s dead now. One bullet in the shoulder, another in the chest. Pale faced and glassy eyed. Mercer kicks a foot into his side just to be sure and then moves towards the strung up officers. Colin is balanced on a block of melting ice – a big block, set on a pressure plate. Thick black cords run from the pressure plate to the pool of stagnant water that Sommers is standing in… Though the term standing might not really apply here.

No shirts. Both men gagged. Heavy metal chains dropped down behind Sommers, and the water just beneath him red with blood. All of the cables in the room are connected in on each other. It’s a loop; the pressure plate to the water, the door to the water, the console to the water. It sloshes filthy beneath his shoes.

The officers have been held in an old meat packing plant, on the opposite side of the city from the station. Colin has been gone for six months, but reports of Sommers being missing just started washing in once the weekend ran up. They both look to be in bad shape, though. Colin’s hair grown out into mats, and Sommers face gone pale.

“Got a ten minute E.T,” Jackson says, stepping into the room. “Jesus Christ!”

Mercer shoves the gun back into his shoulder holster and jabs a finger at Jackson. “Call Garcia back and tell her I want her here in four.” Jackson snorts. “Call her!”

Four minutes.

There are bolt cutters in Mercer’s trunk. Rough hewn blankets folded up small. A little cardboard box of protein bars and pressure bandages. Sometimes you can’t wait for the paramedics to show up, no matter what protocol says. And Garcia knows she needs to make other calls when there’s a time limit, get people out here a little faster, come here prepared to deal with the sort of back lash that the brass hates showing up on their desk.

Mercer has been partners with Alexandra Garcia for almost five years. They work together better than anyone else that Mercer has been paired up with – largely because she understands what four minutes is supposed to mean; because she knows when to push, when to question, when to forget the speed limits and show up already knowing that they’ll have a few extra forms to fill out before the day is done.

“Just do it,” says Mercer. He side eyes Jackson until he sees the other man press the phone to his ear a second time, and then the federal agent turns to address the most important matter in the room. The bound officers.

Mercer circles Colin first, stays well away from the pressure plate, taking in the noose tied around the man’s neck, and then moves to do the same with Sommers. There’s a metal hook shoved into the fatty flesh beneath each of Sommers shoulder blades, blood running down over dark, bruise mottled skin. They’re just high enough up that Sommers can keep his feet on the ground if he stands on his toes, the balls of his feet wobbling in the filthy red tinged water.

Pressure plate. Cords. Water. “It’ll electrocute Sommers the moment that Colin is off there.”

The man’s bare feet skid over the ice. His toes are bright red from the cold. Jackson moves to steady him, but Mercer holds out a hand.  

“No, don’t touch him. You don’t know how fine tuned that plate is. Hair spring trigger, and the moment your hands come off him, it could activate. They picked ice on purpose. This cooler’s insulated, but that ice would still melt eventually. Then bang, they’re both lost.” Mercer circles back around to the front of Sommers. “He needs to come down first.”

Colin is frantic now, shouting behind the gag. His feet scrape incessantly at the block of ice. Jackson says, “there’s no way that he can keep on his feet until paramedics arrive. I don’t care what you told her, it’s at least a ten minute run.”

“Eight and a half if they get dispatched from Mercy,” Mercer says, but Colin, six months gone, is desperate. “Come hold the detective. We get some slack in the chains, and I can get him down.”

Boston. There was a man who owned a butcher shop. Strung his victims up with the hogs and split them apart in perfect little cuts. Took almost seventeen victims to find him, because he didn’t get rid of the bodies. Just kept them wrapped in paper in the cold room, with the rest of the steaks.

First time Mercer has seen a living body on these kinds of hooks, though.

Sommers twists, shouting on the other side of the gag. Jackson goes for it, and Mercer snaps, “Christ, use your fucking head!” He reaches around, prodding at the gag – clean, tight rolled fabric – and presses it more tightly between Sommers’s teeth. “Bite down. You’re going to prefer this over getting fried.”

Sommers groans behind the gag. At another barked insistence, Jackson hooks his arms around Sommers’s waist and hefts. Just an inch, two inches, enough to make the chains go a little slack. Mercer curls one hand around the base of the metal hook, heavy, wrought iron – clean – and curls the other under Sommers arm.

The man bellows something, and then screams when Mercer heaves. The metal slides out of him with a wet suctioning pop, spilling crimson from the wound; red spilling down over mottled dark purple and black skin, Colin’s feet scraping and skidding more frantically over the ice. Colin wails when he almost skids off the block, and Sommers’s whole body jerks, limbs snapping out with the pain of the hook being moved.

“Hold him, hold him,” and, “we’ve got you, detective.”

The metal hook swings like a pendulum beside him, the chain rattling. Mercer grabs onto the other hook, fingers curling around it, the metal so clean that it’s slick beneath that hot wet blood. Mercer yanks – muffled screaming – skin scraping over ice – and the second hook sticks.

“Fuck, fuck, hang on -” Mercer pulls off his tie, wraps it around his hand, and grabs the hook again. The cotton soaks up the blood and gives him a bit of friction. “Soon as this is out, pull him away from the God damned water.”

Jackson gives a jerking nod. Mercer breathes in – scrape, scrape, scrape – and jerks out and down with his whole body weight. The hook slides out of the meat with a schlick of sound, and Mercer plants a hand in the middle of Sommers back and shoves. Jackson and the detective go staggering out of the water, Mercer side stepping away from the hooks, just as Colin slips fully off the ice. There’s a hissing crack as the pressure plate is released, and the sound of surging electricity covers the red faced man’s gasping.

The wires running beneath the water where Sommers had been standing go live.

Mercer, spitting out every foul mouthed swear that he can, slings himself over to Colin, hefting him around the middle and pushing him back onto the ice. The door to the meat locker swings open again, Garcia belting out, “Logan, Christ,” and then, as she barrels into the room, “Get the medics in here, we’ve got live ones!”

“Help me get him down,” Mercer says. He keeps a grip on Colin, and Garcia hurries over to him, mindful of the electrified water on the floor of half the room. It snaps and crackles with fury.

Four minutes; it isn’t really a time. It’s a mindset. Garcia pulls a heavy duty pocket knife out of her back pocket. Mercer gave it to her after she made it as his partner for a solid year, the first one that he’s had stick it out that long. The blade of it cuts clean through the rope, and Colin sobs muffled through his gag as he’s finally, finally pulled off of the ice.

Boot steps in the hall. Medics come in, white suited with their gurneys, their heavy bags, and quickly take control of the situation. Garcia and Mercer and Jackson are all ushered out into the hall to finish securing the building and the scene while the medics do their work.

Garcia tells him, “I guess you were wrong about Sommers.”

For the last six months, Mercer has been positive that Sommers was at least partially responsible for the deaths that have been sweeping over the city – if not fully behind them. Clearly though, that’s not the case.

There’s no way in Hell that he put himself up on those meat hooks. Which means that Mercer’s back to square one when it comes to figuring out who the Hell is behind this bullshit. And damn, if that doesn’t sting.

“There’s no way that the lawyer was behind all of this. I want the girlfriend back in the station, tomorrow,” Mercer tells her, ignoring the slight chiding. He’s never wrong about this sort of thing.

That’s part of why the bureau lets so much of what he does slide. Mercer is good at noticing the little details, the things that most people miss. He’s good at spotting dolls that show up in the same place, at seeing the connection between dead sister’s and rigged tests.

Except that this time he is wrong, because there’s no way in Hell that Sommers put himself up on those hooks. Literally. They went deep, through tissue, fat, and into muscle. It’s going to take more than just stitches to piece it back together. He’ll be out of the station for a while, and on desk duty for even longer.

Garcia makes a face. “Might be harder to do that than you think. Daniel rolled into town an hour ago. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was on his way here right now.”

“Daniel? What the God damned Hell is that bastard doing out here?” As if Mercer’s mood wasn’t already bad enough, the thought of dealing with the other federal agent is enough to make his mouth go sour. His tongue presses against the bloody welt that he’s bitten on the inside of his lower lip.

Garcia gives him an unimpressed look. “Half the station went missing, and we weren’t exactly getting anywhere. You know they send him in when they’re tired of a case dragging.”

“I’m not slapping this on the lawyer,” spits Mercer, shaking a bloody finger at Garcia. “I don’t give a God damned fuck how fast he wants this wrapped up, there’s no way I’m going to close this case until I have the actual freak bastard in cuffs.”

Garcia tells him, “I’m not saying that we should slap this on the lawyer. I’m just saying that you need to walk more carefully, Logan. He’s going to have a field day about you charging in here.”

“I saved both those asses,” Mercer snaps. “Hell, I probably saved Jackson too! The man wasn’t thinking.”

“I know that,” says Garcia. “But you know how Daniel is. You didn’t have back up, and he’s going to raise a fit over it.” She reaches out, putting a hand on Mercer’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “Just breathe, Logan. Try to hold it together until he leaves. I’ll buy you a drink afterwards.”

“A sherry isn’t worth putting up with his bullshit, and you know it.”

“I’ll treat you to dinner, too.”

Mercer points out, “you’re going to do that anyway.”

The hand drops from his shoulder and whacks against his chest instead. “Just do a better job at playing nice than you did on the Stanton case.”

The medics pull one gurney out, two of them; no black bags, no white cloths pulled up over the officers faces. Jackson looks their way, and Mercer waves him off; he doesn’t want the fucker hanging around and charging through anymore obviously trapped doors. He vanishes down the hall after the gurneys.

“Just get the girlfriend into the station, tomorrow,” Mercer tells her, deciding to just ignore the bit about Daniel, about the Stanton case. “So I can figure out what she didn’t tell me -” He jabs a hand towards the meat room. “- about the dead bastard that we’ve got in there.”

“Alright. Who do you want at the hospital?”

“Give the boys in blue something to do, let them put men outside of the rooms. And make sure one of them keeps an eye on Jackson.”

Garcia raises her eyebrows. “Do you think he’s involved in this?”

The not another internal affair is implied.

“God, no. The man’s too stupid to be involved,” Mercer says. “But I just interrupted Jackson’s test, and we don’t know how much the Butcher’s going to put up with that sort of shit.”

“Good point. I’ll find someone from another unit to stick with him,” Garcia says. She leads the way down the hall, back towards the main packing plant room. It’s still sitting dark and turned off; glow in the dark painted arrows on the ground, guiding Jackson deeper into the station.

Mercer scuffs the heel of a foot over one as he goes. It’s easier to take a better look at the set up now that he’s not trying to catch Jackson on a deadline. No warnings on the wall here, not like the other rooms. Jackson was already supposed to have learned his lesson by this point.

The thing is, the Butcher doesn’t take random strangers off the streets. He takes people who he wants to teach a lesson. Like the cop with a record for rushing in too fast, slamming open doors and getting innocent people killed. The tests decide if you live or die, if you learn your lesson quickly enough to get out, pay your penance, accept your dues, or if you cling so strongly to your ways that you aren’t willing to accept that they were ever faults in the first place.

Dirty lawyers. Domestic abusers. Killers, thieves, arsonists – people who should end up in jail but don’t. People like Jackson who think they’re above the rules.

They round the corner, towards the front lobby. Garcia catches hold of his wrist. “I mean it, Logan. At least give it a week before you start a fight with the man.”

“I’ll give it until he says something asinine,” Mercer responds. “So I’d lower your expectations closer to the second sentence.”

Garcia throws her arms out to the side, but gives up on the topic for the time being. Probably for the best. The more that Mercer dwells on the fact that he was wrong about Sommers, the worse his mood gets.

Dealing with Daniel is going to be a God damned mess.

#my writing #writeblr #meathook

[scaryscarecrows]

There has been a Chick-fil-A by my house for a few years now.

And.

I have gone from being relatively neutral in that 'I will never eat there, because fuck you' to 'I actively hope you go bankrupt paying for mass food poisoning and THEN--AND THEN--JUST as you're getting back on your feet, all of your restaurants burn to the ground through human negligence that your insurance will not cover, thus ending your reign of terror'.

Why?

They're in with my local Target, which is our main grocery store. Which means we're there about once a week, or so. Every damned time, some jackass speeding TO the Chick-fil-A or bailing OUT of the Chick-fil-A nearly hits me, my car, or my shopping cart. Their customers have zero manners and zero driving skills, apparently, and on God, I hope one of them hits me. Why?

I'll ruin them. Ten plagues? Bitch, I'm the eleventh plague. You'll know me. You'll curse my name. You will be sorry.

Anyways, happy Pride from your angry neighborhood asexual. :)

#personal #seriously people #target's carts are LARGE and RED #my CAR is also BRIGHT FUCKING RED #(I'm not but I do often wear red) #FACE OUT OF THE NUGGET BAG AND FOOT OFF THE GAS #I'M WALKING HERE #homophobia must be delicious BUT THAT'S NO EXCUSE #scary rages #this is not up for debate i'm tired of reckless assholes coming from THAT restaurant #i've never had to leap aside from someone going to mcdonald's #or even taco bell #choke karen

[rayshippouuchiha]

Patron deity au. Someone has to work with Aizawa during a case and is just like "god this dude, who could even stand him in a personal relationship. He's so uptight (blah,blah,blah,etc, you get the idea)"

Aizawa, going home to his deity spouse and their 20+ kids and extreme amount of pets. "I haven't known peace in years and at this point I think I would hate it."

Oh yeah this would take place into the future of the verse and it'd be delightful:

Some rookie cop or young non-UA hero who recently relocated to Musutafu ends up working with Shouta on a case and absolutely does not know What's Up(TM).

And no one in the entire station plans on telling them. It's hands down funnier to watch them learn the truth on their own and they, to be frank, kind of deserve to be knocked down a few pegs.

(Because let's face it, by this point Ichigo is a well-known Musutafu cryptid and worship may or may not have spread out into the city itself thanks to the students. And although UA remains Ichigo's stronghold time finds him growing stronger and stronger as time passes. And Aizawa is Aizawa and thus is also a cryptid on his own.)

But this young non-Musutafu native just can't stand Aizawa/Eraserhead. He absolutely rubs this dude the wrong way.

Aizawa comes across as so straightlaced and fucking brutal when it comes to picking out flaws in plans. The only showboating he puts up with is when Mic is feeling dramatic and the only cowboying he doesn't immediately shut down is when Snipe is close by.

(Ichigo with all of his Ichigo-ness doesn't count in Shouta's eyes because there's some idiot hero or cop thinking they're invincible and then there's Ichigo. And those are very much two different situations. Besides, Shouta is a lot of things but the only time he's interested in fighting a literal force of nature is when Ichigo and him spar, mainly because he knows exactly how that's going to end.)

So when this baby-transplant finally figures out through pieced together overheard conversations that Aizawa is married??

Oh they are absolutely beside themselves. Who the fuck would marry that boring asshole? Dude has the energy and expression of a corpse.

Then, one day, after Aizawa has reamed them out for, once again, getting ahead of themselves on this case, they stomp out into the lobby of the station and immediately freeze.

Because the lobby is full of faces they recognize. There's Deku and Shouto standing huddled beside each other. Ground Zero and Creati are also there as well as Ingenium II and a few other faces they recognize. All members of the infamous 2-A, the UA class everyone says is going to absolutely destroy the hero rankings the moment they graduate. (There are even rumors that they're already messing with them and that Deku specifically has been ranking higher and higher each time despite not technically being eligible yet.)

But what really catches their attention is the man leaning against the wall. Dressed in an old fashion black yukata that's been left to gape open at the neck, arms folded across his chest, long vibrant orange hair pulled up into a high tail, and bright eyes watching over the gathered students, he's obviously a hero of some kind and he is, more importantly, absolutely gorgeous.

There's nothing on earth that could or would stop them from stepping forward and introducing themselves.

Not even the way the 2-A members seem to look between themselves, back at baby-transplant, and then towards the orange-haired man and immediately start snickering.

They slide up to the man's side, shoulders pulled back and chin tilted up proudly, and introduce themselves. Hero name first, of course.

"Hmm," the man hums, vibrant and kind of unsettling eyes cutting in their direction "you can call me, Kurosaki."

It's not the warm reception they were hoping for but it's better than nothing. They're willing to put in the work.

So they stand there chatting at Kurosaki for a bit before the door to the lobby swings open again.

They barely bite back a groan of irritation when Aizawa steps out into the lobby and heads towards the front desk but nothing stamps down the sneer that immediately crawls across their face.

"Someone you don't like?" Kurosaki abruptly asks, seemingly taking interest in the conversation for the first time.

"Just a complete asshole," they don't hesitate to throw Aizawa under the bus. "Some no-name Underground Hero who thinks he knows better than everyone else. If he was that good he'd be Limelight."

"Underground Heroes are important," Kurosaki points out mildly.

"Of course," they back peddle just a bit. "But that guy's just a cold fish. Doesn't have an ounce of the passion I do for anything as far as I've seen."

"Oh I bet," Kurosaki hums, mouth pulled up slightly at one corner.

Aizawa picks that moment to turn in their direction. He looks at the 2-A students first (who have all, for some reason, huddled together and now seem to be passing money between them) and then towards where they and Kurosaki are standing.

"Oh great," they huff as he starts in their direction. "Hopefully I can get rid of him fast and then, if you'd like, I'd love to take you out to talk some more?"

Aizawa's there before Kurosaki gets a chance to reply.

"Planning a date?" Aizawa asks, dead eyes staring into their face.

"What's it to you?" They snap back. "Pissed because you'll never get one?"

"Pretty sure my chances are better than yours," Aizawa states blandly, hands tucked into his pockets and shoulders slouched like always.

Aizawa turns towards Kurosaki then, ignoring the way they sputter.

"What'd you say?" Aizawa asks.

"Hmm," Kurosaki hums again. "Not sure my husband would like that, me going on a date with some stranger. Might not be worth it"

Disappointment immediately slides down their spine because of course Kurosaki, as gorgeous as he is, is married.

But at least this means they get to see Aizawa flame out too.

"Don't know about that," Aizawa unexpectedly says. "Bet I could convince you."

"Oh," Kurosaki murmurs, low and almost intimate, "you're welcome to try."

And then Aizawa takes a step forward to crowd into Kurosaki's space and they can only watch in some kind of horror as Aizawa kisses Kurosaki.

It's deep and intimate, absolutely not something meant to happen in the middle of a police station lobby.

It takes too long for the kiss to break even as the 2-A members hoot and holler just a bit in the background, something about "Sensei and Ichi-nii are at it again".

They're beginning to believe they might have missed something here.

"How was that?" Aizawa asks when he finally breaks the kiss, something unexpectedly smug in his expression. "Not bad for a cold fish huh?"

And that's the exact moment they realize Aizawa must have heard every single thing they've ever said about him behind his back.

"Well," Kurosaki says, face flushed and lips just a bit swollen, "guess there's a reason I married you after all huh?"

They don't bother to stick around after that. Instead, they turn tail and head out onto the street.

That was more than enough humiliation for one day for them.

#RayRambles #BnHA #Bleach #Patron Strawberry Of 1A AU #AizawaIchigo #EraserBerry