#always the boxy glasses

[wulfhalls]

.

#over three weeks now since hes gone #sometimes ill hear a noise and think. ah well there he is. ofc hed be back he wouldnt just leave me like that #like a specific way the wood would creek when hed jump up to his favourite sleeping place. the way his paws sounded against the glass door #the floor when he made his lil tap tap tap walk across the hall. #still haven't put away his boxies or his lil things or his bowls. #i still talk to him like hes lying just out of eyesight in his favourite boxie #we always did my puzzles together (i did the puzzle and he ruined it) and we just started one a few days before he. well. #i miss him all the time everywhere #cant stop crying. but like the curling up on the floor weeping type. #its like missing a limb or part of ur soul lol #collecting his fur like its treasure but then the realisation comes that thats it. thats all ill ever have of him now. #for the rest of my life. just this #and then we're back on the floor weeping lol #but i bought a locket to put some of it in so hes always with me still. #anyway. SUICIDE #bb boy #txt.me #u know the spiel. lets not talk about it i just needed to type it out #bb baby

[strang3lov3]

GameStop

Summary: Mall Rats 4! (Can be read alone or, catch up with the mallrats in my masterlist) Joel tells you not to fuck with the Nintendo he stole from GameStop. His one rule. You fuck with it. That’s okay, though. Joel makes you play Mario with his fingers knuckle deep inside you.

Warnings: JOEL IS WEARING GRAY SWEATPANTS THIS IS NOT A FUCKING DRILL🚨‼️ fingering, teasing, edging, orgasm denial blowjobs, unprotected piv, creampie, jjoel is so tender and such a dick, arguing, inglewood up to no good, domestic moments, minor injuries, when will these two fucking kiss!?? Idk

W/C: 4.6k

A/N: thank you very much @papipascalispunk i appreciate you taking the time to edit this. I love you so much. did you know that? And everyone else, do you know how much I love y’all for reading and engaging? I do. In case you didn’t know already 🥰

Joel stands in front of your house early afternoon on Saturday, a box of cords and plastic in one hand as he urgently knocks on your door, “Open up,” he barks, “This shit’s heavy.”

“Fuck,” you groan, walking up to your front door wearing nothing but an ill-fitting t-shirt and some old boxers. You can see Joel waiting impatiently through the window. You open the door and squint at Joel, the daylight too bright for your eyes, “What do you want, Joel?”

“Need to use your TV,” he demands, stepping inside your home and placing a hand on your hip to move you aside, “Move.” 

“Why?”, you resist.

Joel motions toward his box with an annoyed expression on his face and your eyes light up. “Oh yeah,” you say, leading Joel to your living room where he sits in front of your old and boxy television, flipping up panels and tinkering with buttons before plugging in cords, “Can I play too? Will you show me how?”

“If you listen to me, maybe,” Joel mumbles as he’s setting up the console before turning to you, “Are you gonna be good and listen to me?”

“Of course not,” you smirk.

“Figures.”

You didn’t listen yesterday, either. You never do. 

-

Something had caught your eye and you went ahead of Joel, something he absolutely hates. He tells you your place is next to him or behind him. He leads. You follow.

“Would you quit fuckin’ wanderin’, Inglewood?”, Joel hissed at you in the second level of the mall, “I give ya an inch, ya take a mile.”

You rolled your eyes, “Why do you call me that?”

“Cause you’re always up to no good.” 

“I don’t understand that reference.”

“I know you don’t,” Joel sighed.

An odd clicking noise startled you both. It wasn’t quite that signature sound of a clicker, but it was enough to set you both off. You turned to Joel with wide eyes, and he reflexively pulled you close, one hand over your mouth and his other arm wrapped around your waist. Behind me, he mouthed. 

You nodded and took your place behind Joel, heart pounding in your chest. He walked forward slowly before stopping, pulling out his gun and his flashlight. In front of him was a dark silhouetted figure, something he couldn’t quite make out. It stood in front of a store with a broken sign, white and red glass lettering shattered. As he tiptoed closer with you following close behind, his eyes began to piece more things together. The figure was unmoving, and upon closer inspection it looked to be wearing almost…tactical gear? Was it FEDRA? He wondered what the clicking noise was. Probably just the mall deteriorating. If there were infected in the mall, they would have shown themselves by this point.

The figure stayed still, unmoving. Finally, Joel saw it. On the figure’s chest read, ‘Call of Duty: Out October 29, 2003’. Joel let out a breath of relief and put his gun down, “False alarm,” he said. “Wait.”

“What is it, Joel?”, you asked as he took quick steps toward the unmarked store. “Oh, fuck yeah,” he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice, “Get your ass over here. Follow me. First good thing in this godforsaken mall. Do you know what this is?”

“You know I don’t know what this is.”

Joel explained that it was a GameStop. They used to sell video games and stuff, had all sorts of fun things. He looked like a kid in a candy shop, stealing consoles and cartridges and gushing about how much he loved these games long ago. 

When you and Joel had returned from the mall, he practically sprinted into Ellie’s room, setting up their shared TV with a PlayStation and introducing her to some games. Ellie was ecstatic, and Joel knew she and the TV would be inseparable. 

-

Which leads him here, to your house, in front of your TV. 

“So I take it Ellie’s excited about the games and stuff you got her?”, you ask amused.

Joel fumbles with a controller to a Nintendo Entertainment System. “Big time,” he says. “They’re attached at the hip. So I’m commandeering your TV for today.”

“You could’ve asked, you know,” you tease, “I would’ve given it to you, asshole.”

“Don’t need you to give me nothin’. Just here to use your TV for a bit,” as he draws the curtains in your room, turns on your TV and adjusts the input, then sits back on your couch, legs outstretched on your coffee table, “It’s more fun when I take it from ya, anyway.”

You wonder if Joel gets physically ill at the thought of being polite, being kind to you. Nothing’s ever easy with him. He’s always ready to argue, ready to instigate. You roll your eyes, then leave Joel to take a shower and get dressed. You’re not sure what you were planning on doing on this Saturday, but video games with Joel seems to be your fate. 

By the time you have showered, Joel has already been playing for nearly 2 hours. You dress yourself in some comfy sweatpants and a hoodie, expecting to hunker down in front of the TV with Joel all day. You can hear the soft music from the video game from your room and Joel’s strings of expletives, or his cheers, depending on what’s happening in the game. You make a couple of sandwiches, some sliced apples, and pour a couple of glasses of water before you greet Joel in the living room. Standing in front of the TV, you watch as Joel tries to continue playing. There’s a little guy wearing a red hat, jumping over blocks and stomping on mushrooms. He makes a cute little ‘boing’ noise when he jumps, and the music playing in the background is playful, melodic. 

“Sweetheart, y’make a better door than a window. Get out of the way,” he gruffs. Joel’s got some fucking nerve today. He could have just kindly asked you to move. Tauntingly, you wiggle your ass in front of him, so he reaches over the coffee table and smacks it, “What’d I say about listening? Do you wanna play the game or not?” With Joel’s eyes still transfixed on the TV in front of you, you sit down next to him and place your two plates on the coffee table. “Everyday it’s somethin’ with you. Always tryin’ to get under my skin, always-”, Joel’s voice trails off as he glances at his plate, “Did you make me a sandwich?” 

You shrug, “You’re extra cranky today. Figured you could use a snack.”

“I’m not cranky,” Joel argues, “And I don’t need you makin’ me any snacks. Can make my own food.”

“Okay,” you say, eating your own food, “You don’t have to eat if you don’t want to. I’m not gonna shove it down your throat.”

Joel stays focused on his game until he hears the crunch of you biting into a slice of apple. “Wait, are those apple slices?”, he asks in a low tone. 

“Mhm.”

“You didn’t happen to cut any up for me, did you?”

“I did. Sprinkled cinnamon and sugar on top,” you smile proudly.

You watch Joel grumble to himself and play the game silently until he beats the level he’s on, then he pauses the game and sets his controller down. He picks up his plate of food and eats a couple of apple slices before inspecting his sandwich, “Did you poison this?”

“No, not the sandwich. The apples, yes. Don’t you taste the rat poison?” 

Joel rolls his eyes and takes a bite of his sandwich, “Gonna have to try harder than that, sweetheart. Up the dose next time. Tasty sandwich, though.”

“Noted,” you smile. Joel smiles too, almost imperceptibly, but you see it, the sparkle in his eyes and the way his face lit up when you told him you sliced up some apples for him too. 

“Tell me about your game.”

Joel raises an eyebrow, “It’s Mario. You don’t know Mario?”, and you shake your head no. “Jesus…you age me,” Joel takes another bite of his sandwich before continuing, “Mario’s a video game. Super Mario Brothers. He has a brother, Luigi. They’re plumbers and they fight Bowser to save Princess Peach. So that’s what I’m doin’ here,” Joel motions to the TV, “Savin’ Peach. Eventually.”

“Is it hard?”, you ask. 

“Kinda. Haven’t played in forever. But Tommy and I’d play all the time. Were always fightin’ over the damn Nintendo,” Joel chuckles, “Drove Mom fuckin’ nuts.”

“Maybe we should invite him over then,” you muse. 

“Nah,” Joel says, “Just me and you today.”

You smile, “Just us?” 

Joel nods, finishing the last of his sandwich and his apple slices, “Unfortunately.” He stretches his legs and his arms out long, then rubs his soft belly with a groan. “You’re trouble,” he tells you, “Tryna’ make me fat. I’m gonna go home and change into something cozier - jeans are fuckin’ tight.” 

“Bet I could make them tighter,” you bite your lip and nudge his thigh. 

“That’s a nice offer. You’re a charmer, Inglewood. Maybe later.” You huff as Joel picks up both of your plates and walks them to your kitchen sink, scrubbing and drying each one before pulling on his jacket. He walks back over to where you sit on the couch and points to the TV and his Nintendo, “Do not touch this,” he says, “It doesn’t have a memory card. So if you fuck with it, my progress is gone. Don’t unplug nothin’, don’t touch the TV, don’t–”.

“What if I–”.

Joel doesn’t let you get another word out, “Nope. Don’t do that either. Just leave it be, sit pretty and behave yourself. I’ll be back soon.”

You scoff and cross your arms as Joel leaves while staring at the paused screen of Joel’s game, then flicker your eyes lower to the controller Joel left on the coffee table. He didn’t say anything about playing the game. What’s the worst that could happen?

You reach for the controller and begin messing with the buttons, playing with the D-pad until the screen changes and you press ‘Start Game’.

The game starts. It catches you off guard. You fumble with the buttons until you figure out how to make Mario move, how to make him jump. A couple times you hit an angry looking mushroom and he dies. You snicker to yourself. Figures. Before you know it, you’ve passed Level 1-1 and you’re onto Level 1-2.

Level 1-2 comes and goes, and then Joel’s back at your door. You pause the game as he lets himself in. You wear a mischievous smile when you see him in his gray sweats and a t-shirt – your weakness. You can see the outline of his dick in those pants, and it sends a pang of arousal to your core. “Well don’t you look handsome,” you purr. 

“Pipe down, horndog,” Joel sits down on the couch next to you. Before he can reach for the controller, you slide your hand over one of his thick thighs and palm his bulge, then slip your hand under the waistband of his pants and play with his cock. He sighs as you stroke him, his sweet sounds getting you all hot and bothered. His cock is thick and warm, half hard and growing harder, but he grabs your wrist and pulls your hand away. “Later,” he reminds you, “C’mon. I know you can wait. I don’t have much of the game left to play.”

“Okay,” you mumble. You scoot closer to Joel as he picks up the controller, wrapping your arm around his and resting your head on his bicep. You squeeze your thighs together tightly, trying to relieve some of the pressure at your core. He tries to shake you off of him, but you don’t budge. “I’m cold, Joel,” you protest.

“So get a blanket. I ain’t your heater,” he complains, but you feel him relax with your touch, snuggling up to you a little closer like maybe he’s cold too, “God, you make me nuts.”

You say nothing as Joel reaches for the controller, presses a couple buttons before the game starts again. He starts playing, then squints and furrows his brows. “Woah, woah, woah,” he says, “This ain’t right. What - why - what happened? Did you touch this? Tell me you didn’t touch this.”

“I didn’t touch it,” you lie. 

Joel turns to you and glares, “What. Did. You. Do.”

“I tried out your game,” Joel continues glaring at you and you raise your arms in surrender, “What?”

Joel cups your cheeks in both of his big hands and shakes your head gently, “Why would you do that?” 

“You told me not to unplug anything. I didn’t unplug anything.”

“I also told you not to touch anything,” Joel groans, “Do you know how long it took me to beat those levels?”

“Just pick up where you left off, Joel.”

“I told ya, it doesn't work like that. No memory card, no progress. I have to start over now,” Joel whines, “Why don’t you ever listen to me?”

“Beats me,” you say, “But–”, you take one of Joel’s hands from his controller and suck his fingers before slipping it under the waistband of your sweatpants, “Now we can get down to brass tacks. Hmm?”

“One rule,” Joel hisses as cups your mound, “I gave you one fuckin’ rule.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But now that you’re not playing Mario anymore, you can make me come. And then I’ll make you come. And you’ll forget you were ever mad at me.”

Joel sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose before turning to you, his eyes now mischievously lit up. “You’re right,” he says, “I’m not playing Mario anymore. You are.” He places the controller in your hands, “I told you I wanted to beat the game, and mayb then I’d fuck ya. So now you’re gonna get me back to where I was so I’ll finish up the game, and maybe, maybe after that, I’ll fuck you. Cause I’m not doin’ all of this again. I’ve got other games I wanna play too.”

“Piece of cake,” you reply confidently. Though really, playing Mario is harder than it looks.

“Oh, really? Is it that easy?”, Joel says, raising his eyebrows in amusement at your confidence as you nod, “If ya say so. I thought you said it’s harder than it looks. Whatever. Go on, then.” Situating yourself next to Joel, you adjust your grip on the controller. Joel’s hand is still beneath your pants, fingers resting against your lips. You look at him, wondering if he’ll pull his hand away. “You put it there,” he says. “It’s stayin’.”

Whatever. You start the game feeling confident in yourself, and then Mario hits a mushroom and he shrinks. And then he hits another mushroom, and he dies. Joel hums in amusement and you shove your elbow into his side. “I didn’t say anything,” he smirks.

It takes you about ten minutes to get the hang of it, but eventually you do. When you start a new level, Joel presses two of his fingers against your pussy and it startles you. Mario hits a turtle and he shrinks again. “Joel,” you gasp, “What are you doing?”

Dragging his fingers up and down your folds at a leisurely pace, Joel shrugs, “Nothin’.” He’s definitely not doing “nothing”. It’s getting harder to focus now, and you’re making mistakes, getting hit by enemies, missing those little mushroom power ups that come at you every so often. You huff in frustration, and Joel chuckles to himself, “You suck, sweetheart.”

“Shut up, Joel.”

He presses the tip of his middle finger against your entrance, pushes inside before pulling his finger back out and dragging it up to your clit, smirking when your breath hitches in your throat, “Do you need some help? Pointers, maybe?”

“No,” you grit, “Shut up, Joel.”

“Hmm, alright,” he hums, his thick fingers now circling your sensitive bud. You can feel his intense gaze on you as you play the game, squashing Mario’s enemies to the best of your ability, but you were right the first time, it’s harder than it looks. Joel turns his attention back to the TV, “Hit that box with the question mark.” You raise your eyebrow in suspicion. It’s probably a trap. With Joel, it’s always a trap. “Watch what happens,” he instructs, so you hit the box and a flower emerges. Joel tells you to jump on it, so you do. Warily, though. Mario changes outfits. “There you go. Now if you press B,” he taps the other button on the controller, “You can shoot those guys with a fireball. Try it out.” 

Mario does in fact shoot fireballs at the enemies. This advantage makes the game come along smoother, so Joel ups the ante, drawing tight circles into your clit. “Joel,” you moan, “Quit it. You’re distracting me.”

“Thought you wanted me to make you come,” Joel taunts.

“I do, but not like thi–fuck–Joel, stop.”

“Tough luck,” Joel responds, “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

You do your best to ignore the sensation of Joel touching you, but it’s hard. He knows exactly where to touch you, how to touch you to make you squirm and moan for him. You have to fight yourself to keep your eyes from rolling back when Joel pushes two fingers inside you, pumping them in and out for a moment before abruptly curling them upward, hitting that sweet spot he knows and loves. “Jesus, Joel,” you moan, accidentally pressing the lower end of the D-pad. On the TV, Mario slides down a pipe and is brought to a new area. He’s able to run across the top of the screen, then finds an area with a bunch of pipes called the Warp Zone. This changes the game. You’re able to skip levels, making this whole thing go by even quicker. You’ll be on your way to fuck town in no time.

“Was wonderin’ when you were gonna figure that out,” Joel rubs his thumb over your clit as he fucks you with his two middle and ring fingers. You’re able to find a couple more pipes that allow you to go to Warp Zones, which doesn’t require quite as much focus on the screen. You allow yourself to savor the way Joel touches you, that warmth building up in the pit of your stomach. 

“Fuck, don’t stop,” you moan. That familiar edge begins to creep up just as you’re finishing another level. Your breathing quickens, your pussy dripping and gushing with every movement of Joel’s thick fingers. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t–”.

“Thanks sweetheart. That was a big help,” Joel yanks the controller from you with his free hand, then pulls the other away from your core. Now that you’ve gotten him to where he left off in the game, he focuses all of his attention on the TV, as if he was never touching you. 

“Are you serious?”, you’re in disbelief but Joel doesn’t answer, “Joel, I was about to–”.

“I know.”

You scoff, “Fuck you, man.”

“Yeah, I know you wanna. But I told you, you gotta wait til I’m done. You’re very forgetful, you know that?”

Frustrated, you shove your hand under your sweats and pick up where Joel left off. He clears his throat, “You can play with your pussy, or I can. Pick one but we’re not doin’ both. It’s up to you.” 

Jesus fucking Christ. This is bullshit. Joel can take control of your TV, but not your pleasure. You watch him in astonishment, how he pays you no mind as he plays the game. His eyes are glazed over and his lips slightly parted, deep in focus. It’s like you’re not even there. You lower your eyes from his face to his lap where his fingers move deftly, still slick and shiny with your juices. His thumbs dart back and forth over the D-pad and the buttons, and you wish he was still touching you like that. Expertly, with dedication and precision.  And then it catches your eye – the tent in his sweatpants, that little spot of dampness where his head rests against the fabric. He’s fucking rock hard from playing with you, leaking precome. You’re impressed with Joel’s ability to ignore his own arousal. Good for him. You, however, won’t ignore it. 

In a swift maneuver, too quick for Joel to even process, you pull down his sweats and let his cock spring free, setting the waistband under his heavy balls. You don’t even think, you just do it – lifting up his arm, you dive under and grip the base of his cock. You guide his tip to your mouth, swirling your tongue around his swollen head before letting it part your lips. Joel groans, “Think you can play dirty too, huh?”

“Mhm,” you mumble against him. 

“Knock yourself out,” he tells you, “You’re forgettin’ I have something you don’t – self control, my darlin’.”

You don’t care. This is more for you than it is for him, anyway. You haven’t gotten to taste him yet and it’s been on your mind. He tastes heady, salty, and slightly sweaty on your tongue. He’s warm and thick, you like the way his cock feels in your mouth. His smooth skin, how he squirms when you slide his cock to the back of your throat. 

Joel groans as you work his shaft, one hand gripping his base, the other fondling his balls. You hum against him, sending vibrations down his shaft. He rests the sides of his hands on your head as he plays with the controller, pushing you further down on his cock. “Last level,” he tells you. You suck him mindlessly as he plays, listening to Joel hissing expletives. You smirk with him in your mouth knowing which of his curses are directed at you and which are directed at the TV. 

Joel’s cock stiffens and twitches, he’s getting closer. You know it and so does he. “You know,” he says in a soft, warning tone, “If ya make me come, you’re shit outta luck. Can’t fuck you.”

Oh, shit. You weren’t even thinking about that. You pull your mouth off of him instantaneously, smacking your head against his controller and sending it flying out of his hands. “Fuck,” Joel barks. 

The controller lands upside down on the corner of your coffee table, the buttons hitting the edge just so, and Joel watches in horror as Mario disappears from the TV and is replaced by the main menu. 

You rub your head where you hit it on the controller, but Joel is no longer staring at the TV in disbelief. Instead, he’s looking at you. “Shit. I’m sorry, Joel,” you apologize, “I didn’t mean to do that. I’m really sorry.”

You expect Joel to be angry like usual, but he instead pulls your hand away from your scalp, lowers you so he can check the area you hit and give it a kiss, then lifts your chin back up while rubbing your bump. “It was an accident,” he speaks soothingly, “Mario can wait. Are you hurting?”

“Not terribly,” you tell him. And it’s the truth. 

“No? You sure?” You shake your head no and Joel nods. He rubs your head for a little bit longer, his big brown eyes are soft and sweet and worrisome. The kindest he’s ever looked at you, kindest he’s ever been to you. And all you had to do was smack your head on his video game. He holds your chin with his thumb and forefinger, then pulls you close and whispers quietly, “Would you still like me to fuck you? We don’t have to if you’re not up for it anymore.” 

You grin and nod your head, “Yes, please. I want it.”

“Get your ass over here, then,” Joel says as he lifts your hips and pulls your pants off, then pulls his own further down his thighs. He guides you to straddle his lap, holding his cock loosely between his middle and index fingers and his thumb. He drags his tip through your folds, then notches himself at your entrance before pulling your hips down, burying himself in you all the way to the hilt. 

You grip his shoulders and press your forehead to his own, sighing softly as you get adjusted to his girth. “I missed your cock,” you breathe, “Missed it so much.”

“I know you did, sweetheart. I missed you too.”

When you’ve adjusted, you begin to roll your hips, rubbing your clit against that soft patch of hair at the base of his cock, moaning and grunting softly, “Oh, Joel. Feels good.”

“I know it does,” he sighs as he leans forward to lift up your shirt and pulls it off of your body, then takes off his own, “That’s better.” He runs his thumbs over the soft curve of your tummy, then slides his hands up your rib cage before cupping your breasts, twisting and rolling your nipples. 

The way he looks at you makes your cheeks feel hot. You lean forward to hide your face, grinding your hips into him. He holds you close to his body with his hands wrapping around your back before gripping your ass and bouncing you up and down on him, stretching and parting your insides. You allow yourself to rest against him, letting him do the work and take care of you. His cock feels incredible. So thick, so hard, hitting against all of your favorite spots. “So good, takin’ me so good, sweetheart,” he praises, “Ya always do.”

Joel squeezes your ass tighter. He can see your reflection in the TV, loving the way your body moves, how you tremble, how you rock your hips, how you whimper his name. It’s all for him. “Wanna, fuck,” he sighs, snaking his hand between your bodies as he finds your clit with his fingertips, rubbing circles around it, “Wanna make you come on my cock. Make those pretty noises for me.”

With Joel’s cock hitting you right where you need him, his fingers playing with your clit, it’s not long before your orgasm approaches. “Right there, Joel. Like that, just like that,” you moan breathlessly, “I’m gonna come for you.”

“Yeah, gimme a good one,” he says. He fucks you expertly, each of his thrusts deep and intentional. It’s all for you. He just wants to watch you come, hear you moan his name, feel you soak his cock. Your breaths quicken and your moans quiet as you near your climax, and you come with loud cries and moans. Joel pulls you close, fucking you through it as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you. “Fuck,” he hisses rocking his hips into you once, twice, three more times before he comes with a groan, painting your insides with rope after rope of his hot seed. 

You fall forward, resting your face against the couch as you both catch your breath. He rests his head next to you, looking deep into your eyes before flicking his gaze to your lips, then back up to your eyes. You stare at his lips too.

“Your head still okay?” he asks, “Smacked it real good.”

“Think so.”

“Gonna keep an eye on it anyway,” Joel whispers, “What am I gonna do with you, Inglewood, hmm?”, bringing his hand to your face and rubbing your cheekbone with his thumb. You’re still staring at his lips. His pink, pouting lips that have never kissed your own.

“I’m not sure,” you murmur, “What do you think?”

Joel runs his thumb along your bottom lip, pulling it down before letting go, “Haven’t got a clue.”

Joel leaves you to grab a warm wash rag and clean you up, then helps you back into your clothes. He reaches for the controller and starts up Super Mario Brothers one more time, and you snuggle his bicep like before. This time, he doesn’t try to move you. 

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[astroboots]

Punch-Out Love

Artwork by @guruan

FIGHT NIGHT

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: You're lucky enough to score ring-side seats at a boxing match on Friday night. Getting the best view in the house of boxing champion: Miguel O'Hara.

Word count: 1,500

Next Chapter

Spiderverse Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist 

You know fuck all about boxing.

About the only thing you know about the sport was from the glimpses you caught watching scratched up old recordings of Muhammed Ali fights on the boxy mini-tv of your old childhood friend's house.

It always seemed barbaric. The practice of watching two human beings beat the shit out of each other for spectator's entertainment. It seems like something that was better left in the Ancient Roman times. Have we all human beings as a society, really not come further some 2,000 years later?

Your bestie used to get mad at you for this. Constantly defending the sport from your criticism, because (according to him) it's not just about smashing each other's faces in. Supposedly, there's an art to the sport. Boxers are taught to respect their opponents and adhere to the principles of good sportsmanship. It takes great mental discipline, dedicated work and years of hard and punishing training to master boxing.

You never saw any of that in the matches he showed you. All you saw were two men needlessly being hurt, sustaining brain damage for rich people's enjoyment.

Then again, he was more than a little bit biased, considering it was his dream to go pro one day. Tall and gangly, with his scrawny antelope legs, thick-rimmed glasses and big-ass braces, he looked like he couldn't punch his way out of a paper bag, much less another person. You never understood how exactly he thought he was going to make it as a boxer.

But you never found it in you to burst his unrealistic bubble when he used to point at the screen excitedly, drawing your attention to Ali's footwork and the artistry in it. 

"It's like he's dancing," he used to say.

Except dancing is done with swelling music in the background. In dancing you often have a partner. It's an embrace. It's gentle and kind.

Boxing... was not that.

So you don't know how you managed to find yourself in the ringside seats of a local boxing match on a Friday evening, staring up at the boxing ring with the glaring ring lights shining into your eyes.

"Aren't these seats amazing?" Jess shouts excitedly over the familiar lyrics of ‘We Will Rock You' being belted out by Freddy Mercury on the loudspeaker.

You smile, and nod, because boxing-fan or not, she's right, these are some amazing seats. And considering you didn't have to pay a dime for them, personal aversions aside, you're never going to turn down free stuff.

Jess' husband tested positive for covid at the last minute, and you're the only one in your social circle that is anti-social and single enough to not have any plans on a Friday evening.

On the monitors above you, the menacing headshots of the two fighters swish into view.

"The first guy is an old reigning champ," she explains to you, as she leans in, shouting into your eardrums (and yet you can still barely make out what she's saying over the music). "The challenger is some new kid on the block. Has an amazing track record. Zero losses in the season. He's something else."

You look up at the gigantic screen, at the sharp cut cheeks, strong thick brows and the intense pitched brown eyes staring down at you.

Angry looking dude.

...Handsome too.

With a face like that, surely he could've gone into other careers. Calvin Klein model, movie star, or a news anchor. You wonder what makes a guy voluntarily have his face bashed in for money as a career.

"Ladies and gentlemen," a loud booming voice announces from the stage.

You jump in your seat from the suddenness, as you see a bald and overly formal dressed announcer in the middle of the ring. 

"Welcome to the electrifying boxing showdown of the century! Are you ready to witness some knockout action tonight?"

The crowd around you cheers with a pandemonium of shouting and whistling.

"Introducing our first fighter, a true hometown hero! With an impressive record of 20 wins, 15 by knockout, and only 2 losses, standing at 6'3 feet, and weighing in at 340 pounds of determination and strength, give it up for ‘the Knockout King’ Bobby Kane!"

You watch as the reigning champion walks down the tunnel to the midst of adoring cheers as he waves and gestures at the crowd like royalty.

Every inch the king that he is nicknamed, he jumps over the rope and stands tall and proud over the ring.

The man is huge, bulging with almost grotesque muscles. He's so large that you almost expect each of his steps to send a reverberation throughout the hall, as if this was Jurassic Park and he's a T-Rex.

"Now, entering the ring with the confidence of a warrior, fighting out of the red corner, with 15 wins, 10 by knockout, and no losses, standing at an astounding 6 feet 9 inches, and weighing in at 310 pounds of raw power, let's hear it for tonight's challenger, ‘Steel Jaw’ Miguel O'Hara!"

Wait what? You do a double take at the announcement. Six foot nine?!?! What kind of giant is that?

From the far corner of the hall, you see his silhouette emerge, and your eyes go wide at the sight of him. Tall doesn't even begin to describe him. 

There's a 200 year oak tree at Central Park, and with the shadow this man casts, you think their height must be nearly comparable. If you thought the Knockout King was tall, the "King" is practically tiny compared to this challenger.

You watch, as the man with cheeks so sharp they mind as well be blades (and god never has a nickname made more sense to you) as he strides towards the stage. He reaches the rope and barely even has to climb over it with how tall he is.

He's leaner than his predecessor. Every inch of him is cut muscles and tanned gorgeous skin as he stands in front of you. His presence is electric. The air crackles where he stands, towering over the stage.

You swear that his towering height blocks out the ring lights with it, casting the stage in the darkness of his tall shadow.

Somehow, he's even prettier in person compared to the still image of him blown up and plastered on the big screen. Soft brown curls and pouty lips. You don't understand in what world a man like that is a professional fighter.

From this distance, with the way that the light refracts from his irises, his eyes almost glow with a scarlet red that takes your breath away as you look up at him and meet his eyes.

If you didn't know better, you'd think he was staring at you.

The bell rings out, but he's not looking away. The intensity you find there is enough to make you swallow your tongue. Your face prickles with heat and for several long moments you forget to breathe, until the air seems to thin around you and your vision starts to swim.

Then he turns to face his opponent.

You're not quite sure where to look. There's so much happening at once. For his size, Miguel O'Hara is surprisingly deft on his feet. His footwork is somehow both unpredictable yet intentional all at once.

The King throws a strong punch, as he lunges forward, after his tall opponent. But O'Hara dodges them seemingly without effort. It's followed by punches so quick, the movements blur together.

Strike after strike. The King is giving it his all. But none of it properly connects. With every failed hit, you can see him growing increasingly more frustrated.

Your heart is in your lungs, and despite how close you are to the stage, you almost want to get up from your seat for a closer look.

Safe as you are behind the ropes, adrenaline rushes through your veins with a fury. You can't recall the last time you felt this ecstatic about... well, anything.

With each punch O’Hara dodges, you feel yourself lurch back in your seat, trying to dodge the punch with him.

It's titillating.

Exciting.

O'Hara's movements are precise and honed with intention despite the ferocity in his movements. Each one is measured and intricate and if you didn't know any better you'd almost call it graceful.

You think back to those moments in your childhood friend's home, and his excited words buzz in your ears now. For the first time ever you finally understand what he had meant.

It is like a dance.

Before you, O’Hara's eyes cross over in your direction and for a split of a second, you swear your eyes connect again. His gaze holds you there, pinned to your seat, and excitement shoots through the entirety of your spine until you feel lightheaded from the attention.

Then he finally steps forward, no longer evading.

It's brutal and efficient.

An uppercut that connects cleanly to his opponent's jaw.

Spit and blood flies out from the man's mouth, the flabby flesh of his cheek vibrating from the impact as he lands on the floor with an ear-shattering thud.

Then the guy is out.

Barely even eight minutes in. 

There's a stunned and shocked silence. The crowd seems both enthralled and disappointed at how fast it all went. On the ring floor, you can practically see the circle of cartoon birds flying above the defeated King's head.

You may not know anything about boxing, but you know that this man is not getting up anytime soon, no matter how far the referee counts.

Tearing your eyes away from the motionless body splayed out on the ground elevated above you, you can see the victor towering menacingly over the body.

But Miguel O'Hara isn't even looking at his defeated opponent

No, his eyes are staring straight into the sea of awestruck spectators. Except he’s not looking at them.

He's looking at you.

~ Next.

Author's note: What's that you say? CiCi wtf are you doing starting another series when you already got one going on? ... Idek man. But I hope you guys enjoy it, cause I had a blast writing it, smut will ensue in later chapters I promise!

Dedications and Credits: Buckle up it's gonna be a big one!

Firstly to @guruan when I say she's my muse THIS IS WHAT I MEAN! Look at that beautiful artwork. I am drooling into my panties. I am crying between my legs. I am so damn horny! I cannot thank this amazingly talented genius enough. Please please give this wonderful brilliant human your love by following her, and drop by her KO-FI SHOP cause the art this woman bless us with is UN-fucking-REAL

Then to @djarinsbeskar who put this idea into my head. In my mind she is the OG Boxer AU champion and mastermind. If you are in the mood for more boxing content, she has a wonderful, devastatingly sexy series Boxer!Din AU that is just woof woof bark bark.

#miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #oscar isaac #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse fanfiction #spiderverse #spiderverse fanfiction #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x you

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Follow You Anywhere 5

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, controlling behavoiour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’re online existence threatens to leak into your real life.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: still sick but still craving dick.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You drain the glass of water and cling to it. You’re at a loss of what to do next. You’re not just trapped by this man, you’re bound up in fear. It’s a real life horror movie. 

You stand and blink long and hard, trying to steady yourself. You turn, your legs stiff and straight, your movement slow as if walking through sludge. You stop and sway as you find Sy watching you from the doorway. 

No wonder you never noticed him before. He’s so quiet, you didn’t even know he was still in the room. Well, he is a soldier after all. That fact chills you more than anything. Even if you were more formidable, you still wouldn’t have a hope. 

He wears only a pair of thin gym shorts, low on his hips and displaying his thick stomach. He’s not really fat, just burly. He’s got hair fron chest to waistline, his stomach boxy with muscle but not perfectly defined. His arms are hug and bulge without flexing. 

You gulp and look down at the empty glass and walk forward. 

“I can get that, sweetie,” he offers as you come close. 

“No, it’s okay,” you murmur, “I gotta... finish up a few things anyhow.” 

He doesn’t move. His large body blocks the exit and you poke your tongue out to wet your dry lips. His eyes narrow on your mouth and he releases a heavy exhale. 

“Excuse me,” you voice quavers, “I’m just tryna... get past.” 

“Sweetie, you sound tired, maybe you should lay down,” he reaches for you and you flinch. You see him hesitate before he closes the gap, rubbing your arm with his large hand. “Hm, I could rub your feet, we could talk. We got a lot of catching up to do.” 

“I... M-maybe later, this project is a big one,” you lie. It’s really nothing. A sixty-dollar edit you could do in your sleep. “It’s a bit early, anyway, right?” 

His hand lingers as he looks down at you. His thick fingertips flutter up your shoulder and along your neck. He turns his knuckles to graze your throat before he frames your chin. 

“You’re much prettier in person, you know that?” He purrs, “especially when you smile.” 

Your lip quivers as goosebumps raise on the back of your arms, “thanks, Sy. Um, sorry, can I get through?” 

He rubs your jaw with his thumb and tilts his head. Finally he drops his hand and sighs, smacking the side of his leg as he backs up, angling to offer just enough room for your escape. As you step out, you can’t help but brush against him. 

“Mmm,” he hums, “you smell like flowers.” 

You grip the glass even tighter, “thanks.” 

“Everything about you is just so...” he trails after you, right at your heels, “perfect.” 

You don’t know what to say to that. It’s a sweet compliment but it really doesn’t feel like it. He follows you to the kitchen, once more planting himself in the doorway, his hand on the frame as he watches you. You cough and rinse the glass, leaving it beside the sink. 

You face him again and wring your hands. As you near, he moves without being told. You skirt around him and sit at the table. You try not to shake as you open the laptop. You pause but resist the urge to look around. Where’s your phone? 

You do your best to bottle up every thought. You don't want him to sense your panic. You need to stay calm until a chance comes up. You don’t know what or when, but it has to. 

You click onto Adobe Suite and reload the same project as before. He just stands there, by the wall. You're too nervous to check if he’s looking at you.  

You hear a peculiar tapping and Aika slithers past her owner. As she approaches, you swallow and brace yourself. She sits beside you and puts her head in your lap. You gape down, in relief and surprise, and daintily touch her head. 

“She likes you a lot,” he beams and walks around the other side of the table. He drags a chair out and sits, “I told her all about you. She was over there too. Sniffin’ out IEDs.” 

“Oh,” you glance at him over the laptop. “Wow.” 

A pang stabs your chest. For a moment, you feel bad for him. You can’t begin to imagine what he saw in a war. You presume being far from home is never easy but that’s all so much more intense. 

“Yeah, tough, but we made it through,” he proclaims, “easier to get on when you got something to come home to.” 

You nod and look at the screen. This is all sorts of messed up. How stupid are you? Why couldn’t you just keep a journal? Why did you have to stream your stupid life to the stupid internet? You just assumed that no one would care. Like usual. 

You drag your fingers around the touch pad, trying to focus on the actual work. That's the only real escape you have. You need to think about anything else. 

“I thought... I thought you made your money from your videos,” he says as pushes his shoulders back, his figure broader than the chair. 

“Mm, no. Um, you know, not many viewers. I edit for other people. Pictures, videos,” you answer. It’s easier to talk when you keep it clinical. “Weddings, stuff like that.” 

“Ah,” he sniffs, “well, not about how many followers you got, just that they’re good people, huh?” 

“Sure, uh, yeah,” you sputter. 

“You okay, sweetie?” His tone sharpens. 

“Sorry, I'm just... working,” your lip twitches. “You know, I just... wasn’t expecting... you. I usually work um, between videos, and I didn’t plan on doing anymore today.” 

“Huh,” he pokes his tongue into his cheek, “but you usually do one. One early, one late.” 

You shift and Aika nuzzles your thighs, huffing until your pet her again. You bite the inside of your lip as your face singes, “right, but I’m a little behind...” 

He’s quiet. You feel him staring. He probably can see right through your lies. 

“You’re a hard worker, sweetie, I woulda guessed so,” he stands and the chair scrapes loudly, making you wince, “let me get outta your way. I can wait a bit longer.” 

You don’t look up as his shadows blurs along the edge of your vision. You wait until it fades away before you dare to peek. The TV comes back to life and you exhale. It’s not exactly freedom, just room to breathe. 

🧸

You are anything but behind. You’re so desperate to dissociate, that you breeze through your current projects. In the background, Sy lurks, the couch creaking as he sits up, his footfalls against the floor as he paces, and the little clicks and clacks of his curiosity as he looks around your place. 

As your eyes begin to glaze over from the glare, he appears on the other side of the table, “hungry, sweetie?” 

You’re not. You shrug, not wanting to give the wrong answer. 

“I could order something. I know you just shopped and all but I don’t mind.” 

“You know, that’s nice but I’m still full from breakfast.” 

“Ah, yeah, that was a big one,” he agrees, “you know, those field rations made me a bit of a glutton once I got back to civilization.” 

“Oh. You’re welcome to cook for yourself or something,” you offer. 

“You gonna stay on that all night,” he points at the computer, “that sh—the light can’t be good for your eyes.” 

“No, um, I... just finished.” 

You close the laptop reluctantly. You hear the edge creeping into his timbre. He’s getting impatient. 

“Well, if you’re not hungry, how about I run you a bath? You’re tense, you should relax, sweetie,” his hands go to his hips and tugs up his shorts just a little. 

“Sure...” you murmur. 

He goes before you can say anything else. What else can you say? He’s crazy and it’s becoming more obvious by the minute. Maybe you are too for not screaming at him to leave you alone. 

Aika exhales and falls onto her side, stretching her long legs as she relaxes. Right, he’s not the only one you have to worry about. You get up and clasp your hands together. You walk around the table, once, twice, three times. 

You hear the faucet and shudder. You stop and look at Aika then the door. You could sneak out right then. Tell your neighbour there’s an intruder in your home. With all his things and his dog. And they would see him walking in with you on the cameras like everything was all good. 

Right. It’s an option but not better than the current one. You’re more likely to piss him off than get rid of him. 

“Got it running for ya,” he comes out and you push your hands down, fighting own your fear. 

“Thanks,” you say as you cross the room, “that’s so sweet.” 

“Yeah, sweetie, no problem,” he nears and you keep from shying away, “I’m just tryna take care of you.” 

“I... really appreciate it,” you eke out. 

“You just take your time,” he runs his hands up and down your arms. “Mm,” he bites his lip, “you’re just so pretty. I can’t believe you’re real.” 

Your chest wracks and your head swells. You can’t believe he’s real either. 

You force a smile and freeze as you sense him leaning in. He kisses the top of your head and purrs, “you just go get nice and fresh.” 

He releases you and reluctantly lets you go. You sidle past him cautiously. You don’t look back as you head for the bathroom. You shut the door behind you and let the air free from your lungs. Holy crud. 

You go to the tub and stare in at the rising water. You wait for it to fill up before you shake the daze. You undress and slide into the water. You lean back and grip the edges. The world is surreal. 

You’re too restless to enjoy the warmth. Usually you would find a bath soothing. You often take them with a candle burning and your favourite soap bubbled over the surface. You don’t think you’ll ever know peace again. 

You sit up and hug your knees. You sit like that for a while. You want to fall apart right there but you know you can’t. The thing that helped you so much has doomed you. 

You pull the stopper and get out. The water’s just making you cold. You dry off and wrap the towel around you. You pick up your clothes and go to the door, pressing your ear to listen to the other side. 

You turn the handle slowly and ease it inch by inch. He’s not there. You tiptoe out, vigilant as you cross the room. You turn into the bedroom and nearly let out a yelp. You didn’t really think he’d left but you could hope. 

“These are real cute,” he lays down the button up silk pajama shirt with the matching shorts. 

“Oh, uh, sure, um...” 

“Should be nice and comfy,” he faces you with a grin. 

“Well, uh, yeah, but...” you begin to argue. You don’t really sleep in those ones, you more lounge around. “Thanks.” 

You keep your arms across your chest, the tower firmly clutched around you. You look down at the set as he remains close. You wait. Is he gonna go? 

“Aren’t ya gonna put them on?” 

“Sure, uh,” you grab them, your other hand fisted around the top of the towel, “I’ll just go do that.” 

“You don’t gotta be shy with me,” he purrs, “but I guess you’re a nice girl, huh. You like to take it slow.” 

You press your lips together, “mhm.” 

You back away, wanting to run in the other direction. You turn at the door and leave him there. You can’t help but feel he’s already seen too much. 

You flit back to the bathroom and lock yourself in. You are about to combust. You tremble as you pull on the shorts, then the shirt. You hang the towel and linger by the door. 

He's really not going to leave. For whatever reason, you hoped he might call it a night and go. Why would he do that? He doesn’t do sane things. 

“Sweetie,” the knock on the door makes you jump. “Everything okay?” 

“Yeah, fine,” you squeak. 

The door handle wiggles. You flick the lock back and he pushes it open from the other side. He lets go of the handle and steps back, his eyes roving up and down your body. 

“Ah, sugar, you look... look real... good,” his voice is smoky as he spreads his hand over his chest. “Sweet little thing, just wanna eat you—up!” 

He surprises you as suddenly he has you off your feet. He has his arms around you as he lifts you and carries you away from the bathroom door. You yelp and hit his shoulder, wriggling and kicking. Oh no! 

“Sy, please, no,” you cry out but he ignores you, “no, no, no...” you panic finally overflow and your eyes glisten. He takes you into the bedroom and your heart pounds feverishly, “please...” you wisp before he tosses you on the bed, “don’t hurt me!” 

You bounce on the mattress and hold your hand up, bracing for his next move. When it doesn’t come, you part your fingers and look at him through them. He watches you with a line in his forehead. 

“You think I’m gonna hurt you?” He rasps. 

“I... you just caught me off guard,” you push yourself up on your elbows, “I didn’t--” 

“I was just playing,” he frowns, “having some fun with my girl. Wanted some snuggles, is all.” 

Despite it all, you actually feel bad. He sounds genuinely hurt. You sit up all the way and pout up at him, “Sy,” you utter softly, “I’m tired, I’m sorry.” 

He inhales so his broad chest rises and blows it out as he rubs his shaves head. He drops his hand and sniffs, “yeah, me too. Been a long day.” 

“So... so...” you quaver as you grasp at the last of your courage, “let’s just sleep it off.” 

His jaw ticks and he tilts his head until you hear a pop, “yeah, you’re right, sweetie. Think I just got overexcited.” 

You flutter your lashes as you hold back the wave of relief. It dissipates as soon as it rises. This isn’t over. You have a whole night ahead of you and brand new day. 

#captain syverson #dark captain syverson #dark!captain syverson #captain syverson x reader #sand castle #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #follow you anywhere

[contronym-colours]

It's fusion time!

I welcome you to Motorcycle and T.Lunchbox

Respectively a Boombox/Skateboard fusion and a Subspace/Medkit fusion fusion

With comic because I couldn't forget the fact that the crystals are basically glass shards and bombs inside the food due to the fused crystals being... Crystals. I'd always thought a sub-med fusion would be like tf2medic "Ze healing Iz not as rewarding as ze hurting"

Motorcycle uses the body crippler to the best of his abilities, definitely knockback on that boxy brick. Just imagine the bike has an auto-drive when he's not on it or he's really strong to haul that mf around. Oof that shirt is gonna get shredded if he gets into a crash.

These two dudes got unique eye shapes that is not due to being part robotic or whole head visor, Whoa.

#phighting! #phighting roblox #roblox #phighting fanart #phighting #phighting fusion #eyy i got them shaded this time #with official colour schemes too! #enjoy the buggo lil gooberly goobers

[lipstickhotchocolate]

Kind of want to combine my hyperfixations and redesign Stardew bachelorettes and bachelors in various eras of vintage fashion?

If I don’t end up drawing this, here’s my general vision so far just because (yes I am skipping the 30s and 40s because I don’t find them as visually interesting):

20s:

Penny. Her hair reminds me a lot of the pinned up faux bobs that flappers would wear and I think she would look AMAZING in a drop waist and cloche hat.

Krobus. His little trench coat get up gives me sort of 1920s Agatha Christie detective novel vibes.

50s:

Shane, because I think he would look dapper with a kind of Cary Grant and Marlon Brando hybrid inspired look? Like with sharp lines and but because he’s messy his sharp suit is ruffled after a long night.

Abigail. I know this isn’t the obvious choice, but due to my hatred™️ of Pierre and Caroline’s parenting style, Abigail’s story has always felt a bit like her breaking away from tradition, especially for gender wise. As such, I want to draw her in Beatnik style, with a black turtleneck, a beret, slacks, and huge dark glasses.

60s:

Harvey :). His fascination with planes means I absolutely have to draw him in the golden age of travel. I’m thinking a smart suit, kind of more early 1960s, inspired by the fashion in the original Bond films.

Haley. I would probably do a different part of 60s fashion to Harvey for her, more akin to the mid to late sixties Swinging London movement, as inspired by Twiggy and Mary Quant. Boxy mini dress, Gogo boots and a Bridget Bardot-esque bouffant.

70s:

Maru. The 70s were big for jumpsuits and women’s fashion got a lot more practical, which I think works well with her personality. I love Maru and I love flared jeans so 🫠 I also think I would give her big hair (I love her older game designs)

Leah. Leah’s hippie artist vibes work perfectly for the 70s flowery hippie fashion. Please put my girl in a loose fitting prairie dress or some bell sleeves. Her hair would also work with the long natural wavy look of that era.

80s:

Emily. I know her vibes are at a first glance 70s, but the style of her dress and her hair remind me SO MUCH of Winona Ryders wedding dress in beetlejuice? So the gothy fashion of the 80s with big spiky hair and mesh and craftiness remind me of Emily.

Elliot. Once again at a first glance 70s, but I will put this man in a late 70s/early 80s glam rock outfit if it kills me. With the massive hair and the sort of military inspired studded jacket and everything. Hear me out.

Alex: the 80s were probably the start of the jock character, and Alex to me reads like he could literally be a character in the breakfast club to be honest. He must be taken back to his roots.

90s:

Sam. In the 90s skater boy fashion was literally like… the thing, so this is obvious. Give him a baggy ahh flannel , a baggier ahh graphic tee and a baggiest ahh pair of jeans. And some fugly 90s man hair.

Sebastian. Not really a huge redesign, but I’m incapable of not drawing him as like a mall goth / early emo kid (yes I know they’re different but similar style roots).

#please let me know if people want to see this #I’m finished with my final university essays in like two days so I will have ample time for drawing #im inspired #stardew valley #sdv #sdv abigail #sdv penny #sdv alex #sdv leah #sdv maru #sdv haley #sdv harvey #sdv elliott #sdv sebastian #sdv shane #sdv emily #sdv sam #sdv krobus #sdv fanart #stardew valley fanart #guess which era is my favourite challenge #it’s the one I put my favourite marriage candidates in whoops

[absurdthirst]

Kinktober 2023: October 8th

Day 8: Sex Pollen/Fuck or Die, Chastity, Sexual Competition

Max Lord x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Magic stones, ancient inscriptions, DUB-CON, compulsion to have sex, wordless consent, public sex, frantic sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, mentions of biting

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

The TV guy has been hanging around for the last few days. Causing a disruption in the everyday workload as the director had pushed for a personalized tour to the CEO of Black Gold since he was promising a sizable donation to the foundation. If there was one thing that could turn your normally stalwart director into a groveling slut, it was the promise of funds. 

You hear a booming laugh and roll your eyes. Unsure of what the joke was down the hall, but you know it was Barbara that was giving him the tour so it couldn’t be that funny. Nothing against her, but she wasn’t the joking type. You look back down at your large magnifying glass, looking through it at the inscription etched into the stone that has been a source of intrigue to you over the past few days since it had arrived. 

When your name is called, you try not to get annoyed, knowing that your boss would want you to place nice. Looking up and plastering a smile on your face as you watch Barbara and the TV guy, you forget his name, walk in. 

Well, she walks. He seemingly saunters in like he owns the place. Perhaps he thinks that because he’s going to write a check, he is an owner. 

His eyes are quick, clever. Far more clever that you would imagine seeing those cheesy commercials he always has played on the tv during Jeopardy. The smile you could do without. It’s screaming slightly sleazy, put on and false in order to get what he wants. The only question is, what does Max Lord want?

Introductions are made, Barabara bouncing almost nervously as you shake the salesman’s hand. Pulling your hand away quickly and turning towards her so she can tell you what she wants. She never approaches you unless she needs something. You aren’t one of the posh, beautiful scientists she wants so desperately to be close to. 

“Can I ask a favor?” She asks, clapping her hands together and giving you a pleading look. “I have a meeting that I can’t reschedule.” Her eyes flicker over to the suit and then back to you. “Could you please finish up the tour for Mr. Lord?” “Please….” He winces. “Call me Maxwell.” He offers with a sugar sweet smile that he seems to think to be a gift. He’s not bad looking, but he would look better if he took the Sun-in out of his hair and lost the boxy shoulder pads. You were one of the few that hated the way fashion has gone. 

“I have a lot to do here.” You protest but Barbara gives you an even more pleading expression. “But…..I can finish it up.” She nearly claps in relief. “After I finish up my work.” You warn seriously. 

“Yeah….sure….” She’s bobbing her head quickly and looking over Maxwell. “That’s great. Well, I know you’ll have a great time, so I’ll just run along.” 

You ignore the flirting and flustering as Maxwell makes a slight scene at Barbara leaving, kissing her hand and making her giggle like she’s five again. Soon enough, there’s blissful silence back in your lab so you can concentrate. 

“So what are you studying?” The question comes after two blissful minutes of silence. Two minutes that you had obviously hoped would be longer. Your eyes cut up from your magnifying glass to find Maxwell looking at the stone curiously. 

“A rock.” You glibly answer, keeping your tone just as dry as you possibly can. Barely resisting the urge to smirk when his grin slides off his unfairly handsome face. 

Maybe you feel a little guilty, but it’s not enough to make you apologize as you look back down at the inscription with a frown. While your Latin was rusty, you swear this is talking about fertility. Just as you tilt the glass down more, a finger appears in front of your magnifying glass, making it look even larger than normal, showing you the grooves in his skin. “What’s-”

“No!” You cry out, knowing that the stone cannot be touched without gloves. The instructions had been very clear in the crate that the stone was packed in. “Don’t touch it!” 

Your fingers collide, both of you touching the vivid jade stone at the same time. The piece seemingly glows at the contact and both of you gasp as you snatch your hands away, knocking over the magnifying glass. 

The next few moments are nothing short of a blur of pain and confusion. Nearly blacking out until a pair of lips smash against yours in the most inelegant, needy kiss of your life. 

“Ohhhh!” Your eyes fly open, finding Maxwell’s face right in yours and his mouth opens, groaning. 

“I can’t- I need-” He doesn’t stop kissing you, his words are just cut off by the tongue sliding into his mouth. Your tongue. The feeling of him pressing against you awakening something base inside you. 

You don’t know why, but you need him. The word fertility flashing in your mind and you push it away because of the burning of your skin and the throbbing of your cunt. 

He apparently feels the same way. Something hard and pulsing starts to push against your hip as he backs you up against the table you had been working at. Nothing but fervent kisses being exchanged, and his hands start to pull at your clothes. 

You never even think to push him away. It doesn’t even cross your mind. Too busy grabbing handfuls of him and ripping open the obvious faux Gucci belt so you can rip those ridiculously baggy pants off of him. 

His hands are bigger, harder than you ever would have imagined when watching those commercials of his. Wonderful on your skin as he slides them up  your thighs under your skirt. Hot as find the edge of your panties and hooking under them to start dragging them down. 

It’s not like you’ve talked about this, but neither one of you cares. Both of you groaning when your own hand dives into his briefs and wraps around an impressive cock. He hides it well under those bulky suits. 

Both of you need each other in a way that can’t even be described. The pain flaring in your stomach drives you, squeezing and pumping his cock, pulling back the foreskin and smearing the bead of precum around the head while he pants into your mouth. 

Your name, not even spoken by him before, sounds like ambrosia as it drips from his tongue. His own fingers sliding through your folds before he is pushing you up onto the table and spreading your legs to step between. 

Your cry would draw any number of personnel if there had been anyone. It had already been late in the day, and then the meeting had drawn everyone else away, leaving your floor empty with the exception of you and Maxwell. “Max!” Your eyes widen when he pushes inside you, filling you to the hilt with a needy, frantic thrust. 

He groans again, twitching violently inside you and gripping the edge of the table behind you. Pulling his hips back and shuddering when he thrusts forward again and moans at how tight you are. 

Rocking the table with how hard he’s fucking you, you can’t do anyting but hold on and whine for him. Every piercing thrust of his cock pushing the pain away and making your cunt feel amazing. Hitting all the best spots, deep inside you and scratching an itch you didn’t know you had. 

Kisses are littered on your skin, his teeth being used far more that you ever thought possible as a man fucks into you as frantically as Maxwell does. Chasing that same goal with the urgency that is burning underneath your own skin. Both of you pulling and grabbing at each other, clothes bunched between you as you grind your hips, your legs wrapped around his waist. 

“I didn’t- fuck, it’s so good.” Maxwell rambles. “You’re so good. I can’t - it’s so- fuck.” 

You can only moan in agreement, not even coherent enough to speak right now. Your entire focus on the connection of his cock in your pussy. 

Your body is so sensitive that you are shocked by how quickly you cum. Taking you by surprise as your head falls back and your hands hold onto his broad shoulders. Cunt clenching down around him and the heat of your orgasm rushing through your body and seemingly quenching that fire that had been burning since you touched the stone only minutes before. 

“Oh fuck, oh mierda.” He groans, clenching his teeth and shouting when he thrusts once more, pulsing heavily inside you as he paints your womb with his seed in hot spurts. Panting and whining as he rocks his hips to push every drop into your quivering cunt until he’s spent and collapsing against you and both of you drop to the table top. 

Gasping for air, you try to catch your breath as you roll your head to the side and feel Max nuzzle against your neck, his own breath still undstead. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch sight of the stone. “What the fuck was that?” You ask, bewildered and almost giggly as you look at the fertility stone that had compelled both of you to fuck like wild animals in your lab. 

“I don’t know.” He pants. “But I might need a minute if we do it again.” 

Breaking into a giggle, your hand slides up to pet the hair that you had been snorting at earlier. Maybe Max Lord wasn’t soooo bad. “Hell of a tour, huh?” 

“Fuck.” He chuckles, still not moving on top of you and snuggling into you even more when your fingers scratch his scalp. “The best.” 

#pedro pascal #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #absurdthirst kinktober #maxwell lord #maxwell lord x reader #maxwell lord x you #maxwell lord x f!reader #maxwell lord smut #maxwell lord imagine #maxwell lord fanfiction #max lord x reader #max lord x you #max lord x f!reader #max lord smut #max lord imagine #max lord fanfiction #max lord ww84

[elphiej]

Be My Light - Chapter 10: An Act of Trust

*Genre: Mafia, Angst, Slow burn, eventual smut

*Warnings: Mentions of drugs, language, anxiety

Authors Note: How has it been so long? It's been a bit of a tough time but I have returned to my happy place. I hope you enjoy this look into the Magic Shop. I copy and paste the Tag List, so for those who no longer wish to be in it, I completely understand. Please just message me and I'll remove you. For any new interested readers who would like to be apart of the Tag List, same thing. Please just be patient with me. I'm on new any depressants and will be trying my very best to keep up with this. No matter what, I will never stop this fic and I will try my best to make any wait worth it. Feel free to drop a like, comment, or anything. Also posted on AO3 under the same name, Enjoy!

Tag list: Tag list: @lolalalooo, @bangtan-sonyeonddaeng, @barbikatherine,  @mrsfortune1306, @lovesick-heart0, @iamnamjoonsbxtch, @deathkat657, @deeepvibes, @sugamonster22, @weiinihao, @hemmofluke, @rainbow-zebra-unicorns, @joyfullyobsessed-blog, @elvencantation, @thefreddieman, @whateveritis616, @crewzie-chan, @wyomingphantom, @killbillv1, @kyrah-williams, @utterlynutters, @ot7jellostan, @zahraaelamira, @shesaysweirdthings, @toriluvsfics, @emu007, @zae007live​

Chapter 10: An Act of Trust.

            This is incredible, you found yourself repeating as you followed Taehyung through the Magic Shop.

            The mansion was the prime example of the phrase ‘never judge a book by its cover’. Though, if you were being completely honest, Bangtan had shown many examples of that phrase the more you were around them. Where the outside of the Magic Shop was foreboding, broken, and cold, the inside was warm, modern, and inviting. And so well maintained. For a group of young men, the place was immaculate. You thought back to when Jin and Jungkook had cleaned your apartment on the first night and decided that you really shouldn’t be surprised. As you looked about the passing rooms, they were beautifully decorated in a modern style that really complimented everyone and the structure.

            Taehyung had, first, led you down the spiral staircase under the front foyer into what you assumed were the old service areas. Now, it was an expansive garage lined with a vast variety of vehicles. You recognized the truck that Jin had driven you home in, the silver sports car that Taehyung had picked you up in that first day, and the town car that you had just been in. Heuning Kai waved at the two of you from his place by the town car, polishing it to look as new. You looked down the rows in awe. As you took in the fleet of cars, you started to understand that you had vastly underestimated how much money Bangtan must have had. But were all of these bought or were they spoils of the job? Or were some of them stolen? You were really trying not to think so poorly of your hosts, but could it really be helped?

            “Nice, huh?” Taehyung crossed his arms with pride as he leaned against a very nice looking black two-door car. He nodded over towards the familiar pickup truck. “That was the first truck we bought back in the early days. We lived off of cheap ramen and stolen veggies, but it was worth it. Jin put a lot of hardware into it over the years. He stayed up a lot of nights reading mechanic books to make it work for us. Now we’re able to hire mechanics who will follow whatever design and dream he can think up to help us. Like bulletproof glass and exteriors, homing beacons, storage and seats that fold down so we can use the space for anything. They, even, have this feature that sends an alert to all of our phones if the vehicle’s ever in an accident so we can get to each other.”

            “I suppose Jin thought of everything, didn’t he?”

            “Yeah,” Taehyung smiled a huge boxy grin. “Jin-hyung is all about keeping us safe. He’s like the mom of our family. He’s always taken such good care of us.”

            As your eyes roamed across the row of vehicles, your eyes caught sight of a sleek, black motorcycle in the farthest corner of the garage. You had always wanted to ride on one ever since one of Amber’s friends came by the hospital to show his new one off. But you had always been too scared to ask to ride along; working in the ER would do that to a person.

            “Like that? That’s Jungkookie’s, He always wanted one. And Yoongi-hyung and Jiminie bought it for him as a graduation present to encourage him to finish school. He was so excited when he went to go pick it out. It’s his favorite thing. Seems like you like it too. I’m sure if you ask him, he’d take you on a ride. As long as he doesn’t combust from shyness. I’d suggest you wait until you’ve been around him more before you ask him.”

            “Oh no,” you said, turning back towards Tae. “I don’t think that would be very smart. Do you know how many cases in my ER are from motorcycle accidents? I wouldn’t dream of it.” You were sure by the look on Taehyung’s face that he could hear the disappointment in your tone as you tried to fool yourself.

            He smiled. “You know that is the same argument that Jin-hyung said when it was brought home. But I know I have a picture of them riding on it together.”

            Taehyung, then, led you out of the garage. As you ascended the spiral stairs back into the front foyer, you were taken down the hallway where Namjoon had appeared towards the kitchen. The hallway was lined with what looked like framed family portraits of Bangtan throughout the years. There were some of them all together dressed all nice, and a few of them in random units posed in fun ways. It was interesting to see how they grew and changed over the years. But it was, also, sad to see how young they were. You paused in front of what appeared to be their first family photo. Where the other photos were in suits or business casual attire, their first picture looked as if they had watched too many hip-hop music videos. Dressed in fake basketball jerseys and hats, or in layered phony designer shirts and too much eyeliner, they looks so young and inexperienced. You almost didn’t recognize Namjoon with his crazy hair and dark glasses, or Jimin with his very tanned skin and shaggy black hair. And Jungkook looked like he had barely started puberty with his round doe-eyes. It really made you wonder what could cause such young kids to turn to gang life. Yoongi and Namjoon you understood since Yoongi had explained his side to you. But were all their stories the same? You had to figure out how to ask them.

       The kitchen looked like it belonged to a showroom with top-of-the-line appliances set against stunning marble counter tops. You imagined this is what a world class chef would want. It was beyond clean and spacious with a large capacity refrigerator and freezer, a fully stocked wine cabinet that almost reached the ceiling, a huge stove and dual ovens, and a large island that could be used for anything. Off the main part, set against a large set of windows that overlooked a courtyard in the middle of the Magic Shop, was a cozy breakfast nook and a fully stocked coffee bar that could meet the needs of the pickiest of coffee drinkers. There were a few different machines for different types of coffee, syrups, stirrers, and different sugars. The enticing smell of whatever Namjoon had made still permeated the room.

            The only thing that was missing was the staff to man such a space. Perhaps they had the morning off?

            Taehyung opened up the fully stocked cabinets, pantry, and fridge to show off their contents and told you to that you would help yourself to anything whenever you wanted.

            “We always make extra so you can have whatever. Or, if you would rather cook something for yourself, by all means. But since one of us will be with you, we may offer to do it.”

            “You all cook?” You remembered the amount of food Jin had ordered the first night for you and figured that’s what they did regularly.

            “Some of us do,” he remarked with a shrug. “Namjoon-hyung can only really make coffee. And my skills are a bit limited. But the others are really good at it. We always leave leftovers if we are out late on missions for the other. We try to have family dinner when we are all together. And we talked about letting you come too, since you’ll be here for a while. If you want, that is. But trust me, you’re gonna want to.”

            “So, you make your own food? I would expect a place like this would come with a fleet of cooks since you all would be…busy.”

            Taehyung laughed. “You would think so. But we are pretty self-sufficient. Other than our hired Army, we don’t really have a staff full time. I mean, there are two mechanics that come to tune up the cars every month, a couple ladies who come in to do a deep clean every three months or so, and Jin brings in a couple helpers once in a while when he’s stuck in whatever he’s working on. But that’s only a very few very trusted people. They’re all older locals though who we’ve helped over the years, so we know they won’t betray us. It’s just safer if we keep it low. When we bring in new people, it’s blind like how we did with you. Not that we don’t trust you. I mean…” Taehyung started trying to figure out how to better explain it.

            “It’s alright. I understand. I am a stranger to you guys. Despite how many card games I’ve beat you at or coffee dates you take me on.” You smiled as your little joke seemed to ease the tension. “It makes sense really. It’s better to be cautious. If anything happens to me, I wouldn’t be able to say anything even if I could.”

            “Hey,” Tae brought his hand to your shoulder, face very serious, “nothing is going to hurt you here. I trust you. Call it my superpower, but I can read people really well. All the years on the street do that to a person. You are a good person. Otherwise, we would have blindfolded you before you stepped out of the car. Everyone agreed to welcome you in our home not just because of all you’ve done for Hyung. We could have just set you up in a safe house if I thought you were up to something.”

            You were sure he was being genuine with you. He did seem like he was going very beyond the bare minimum he needed to do had it been some other person. You knew he was trying to make you feel safe and comfortable in this whole situation. They were doing so much for you, you just needed to allow yourself to relax and not think about all the other things. You tried to ignore the dark cloud that kept coming up the second you started to forget their profession and focus on the person.

            From the kitchen, you were lead to the outside courtyard. It must have been intended to be a beautiful event space in its conception. There were moss covered statues, an elegant fountain surrounded by ivy covered iron benches, and beautiful plants that brought so much color to the space. Above, there was a façade that looked like a tapered roof covered in ripped tarps that Tae explained let in a lot of light and rain but kept anyone or thing from seeing inside. Bangtan had really thought of everything to keep the Magic Shop secret. Across the courtyard and through another door, you were shown an impressive gym with an attached studio that Taehyung explained was used for combat training, dance practice, or anything they wanted. Next to that was a shower, steam room, and a large indoor swimming pool. All of which was fair game for you to use if you wanted to.

            After that, the excited man showed you what he deemed ‘the living space’. Up the stairs to the second floor, there was a massive formal dining room, a small library that you really wanted to explore, a small infirmary, a game room, and some office used for whatever they wanted to work on privately. He pointed to another staircase and mentioned that some of their bedrooms were up on the third floor and so were Namjoon’s and Yoongi’s personal workspaces. Jin’s workspace was in the basement, while Jungkook’s room and personal gaming room was on the attic floor with Taehyung’s art studio. There was so much space in this house that you began to wonder if there was a map so you wouldn’t get lost. Before you could try to remember how to get back to the last room, you found yourself in an expansive living room. You figured this may be where you’d be spending a majority of your time. The room was open design with a massive L-shaped couch that seemed like it could fit more than seven, sleek coffee tables, two elegant armchairs with oversized ottomans, and a few beanbag chairs stacked in a corner. Mounted to the wall was a huge flat screen television and on either side of it where towering shelves full of movies, tv series, music, and video games to last a lifetime. There were multiple gaming consoles stacked neatly on top. And on the far wall, there was a small mini fridge, a cupboard with snacks, and a small bar. It was homely and comfortable.

            “We spend a lot of our down time together in here,” Taehyung said, smiling at your awed expression. “It’s probably one of my favorite rooms, besides my bedroom.”

            “I can see why. It has pretty much everything in here. It’s bigger than my apartment. Well, this house is so large it’s a wonder how you can find anyone in here. I still haven’t seen Jimin, Jungkook, or Jin. I feel like I could walk right past them in here and never know it.”

            “Well, Jin is on the basement level working on something. We won’t need to go down there. There is nothing there that’d interest you. Honestly, it’s a bit more confusing to get down there anyway so just try to stay on the first two floors. But. he’ll come up for lunch in a while. Since I didn’t see Jungkook in here or the gym, my guess is that he is probably still in his room. He was up late last night playing video games and is most likely still sleeping. But if ever in doubt, always start looking for him in the gym or where his games are. As for Jimin, I’m not sure where he is. He was excited for you to come to the Magic Shop. I thought he would meet us in the front or outside. That was his plan anyway. Something might have come up. I’m sure we’ll see him at lunch. Oh yeah, there’s someone else I want you to meet. Now, where is he?”

            Suddenly, while you were distracted by some of the framed, less staged photos on the wall, something small and fuzzy ran across your foot. You shrieked and it took everything in your body to keep from kicking at whatever it was as you fell back into one of the armchairs. Taehyung let out a loud laugh that filled the space and had him holding his sides.

            “Tannie! There’s my baby boy.” You turned over the chair to watch him stoop over and pick up a small black and brown Pomeranian puppy. The puppy yipped happily and gave his owner sloppy kisses that Tae returned. “I was wondering where you had gotten off too. Such a silly boy. You shouldn’t scare our guest like that. She’s a nice girl, the one I told you about. Say you’re sorry.”          

            The puppy let out a big yawn. You weren’t sure if that was the apology Taehyung was expecting.

            “Sorry, I didn’t mean to react like that. I’ve been a bit jumpier than usual. I wasn’t expecting such a tiny thing to come running at me. You guys never mentioned that you had a dog.”

            “I didn’t? That doesn’t sound like me. I could have sworn I had talked about him a few times back in the hospital.” If you were honest, he might have. But there were plenty of times when you were fighting your many battles about trusting them that you tuned out most of the conversations. “This is Yeontan. He’s only eight months old. You don’t mind dogs, do you?”

            “No, I like all animals. He’s very cute,” you pushed off from the chair and stepped a bit closer. When Taehyung held the small dog out to you, you reached over and lightly scratched him behind his fuzzy ear. Yeontan let out a happy noise and licked your hand. You laugh a bit. “He’s so sweet. But I’ll be honest. I would never have suspected someone like you to have such a tiny dog.”

            “Oh, sure. I get that. Jungkookie keeps saying we should get a Doberman as a guard dog. That would definitely fit our image better. But I could never replace Tannie. He’s all mine.” Taehyung hugged the puppy close, and it warmed your heart. “I’ve always wanted a little dog ever since I was a kid. But a bad home life made it difficult. But all the guys pulled together and helped me get this little guy as a present. And I sold a few pieces in order to save up for classes so I could better take care of him. I wanted to be the best owner for him.”

            The way that Taehyung spoke and interacted with the dog was such a juxtaposition to the wicked mafia persona you had figured hid beneath. It was so cute that you could only wonder if someone would ever treat you with the same amount of affection. Had you not known about that side of his life, you’d swear he was just this lovable guy with a large heart. Though, something he had said gave you pause.

            “Save up? I feel like you all have more money than I can even imagine. I mean,” you made a grand gesture to the room, “why would you need to save up for anything?”

            “I’m sure it seems that way. Sure, we’re pretty well off. But when we first started, we were so poor, we didn’t have enough money to eat. We stole from the gas station just to eat once a day. And when we started out, we were nobodies, so it wasn’t like we were making anything. Whatever we did earn from gang activities went to important things like medicine and renting a room for the night, so we didn’t have to sleep on the street. Then, it went towards necessities, like weapons for protection or clothes so we wouldn’t freeze in the winter. Or bail when we got caught by the police. So, to ensure we would be able to make it and not be picked off by the other gangs, we got day jobs. Namjoon worked the gas station we stole from to make it up to the old man who owned it, Yoongi-hyung was a delivery boy, and Hobi-hyung and Jimin worked at a dance studio. Kookie and I found ways to help. The only one who had any money was Jin-hyung. His family was loaded. When I first met Jin-hyung, before I met the others, he was a student, and I was a street kid just trying not to go home. I saw him at a bus stop I used to tag all the time. He said my work was cool and just like a puppy, I started hanging around him. He fed me and even tried to teach me what he was learning since I dropped out. Then we met the others and Jin-hyung was using his money to help us. But when his father learned who he was hanging around, he cut him off. Until he was able to black mail his father.”

            “But,” Taehyung continued, seeing how off topic he was getting, “the point was, we always had other ways to get money that weren’t gang related. Even now, as big as we are, we still have little side jobs we do. It breaks up the monotony and gives us a little bit of an escape. What we earn from gang activities belongs to Bangtan; the upkeep of the house, paying Army, hospital bills, and our equipment. Anything we earn from our side hustle is ours for our own pleasure. That dance studio that Jimin and Hobi-hyung worked at, they now own. Jungkookie competes in videogame competitions and films himself playing games on the internet. Jin continues his family business, without his actual family. And Namjoon-hyung and Yoongi-hyung did music underground back in the day before all the gang stuff, and they still do. They write and produce demos and sell them. You’ve probably heard a few of their stuff. And we all help them sometimes. We joke that if we weren’t in this line of work, we’d probably be a world-renowned band. Funny huh?”

            Wow, you thought as you tried to process what he had just told you. There is so much more to these guys than I thought. How can they be this down to earth?

            “And what do you do?”

            “I told you that I used to be a street artist, right? Nothing too special; just tagging and doing funny graffiti. But the others really inspired me to keep going. Hell, Namjoon got arrested with me when I was attempting to improve some offensive street art someone left outside one of our favorite places just because he wanted to see me improve myself. Now, I’ve moved to a bunch of different mediums; I’ve tried charcoal, photography, drawing, and painting. I took all of those pictures,” he said pointing to the walls. “It’s pretty easy to find a muse when you have a great support system. Here let me show you some of my pieces.” He took your hand and led you out of the living room with a bounce in his step.

            He took you up the stairs and to his art room. You were fairly positive that this was not supposed to be part of the tour since this was where their more private spaces were. But the look on Tae’s face when he showed you his art room was enough to show you that he was very excited to show off his work to you. The room had hardwood floors and walls covered with different sizes of framed pictures of different famous artists that he admired. The room was loaded with supplies like stacks of canvases, drawing supplies and paints, different cameras, and drop clothes to protect the floor. There was a small couch and chairs that you recognized from some of the family portraits. He went over to a desk and grabbed a book. It was labeled Vante, which you remember used to be his street artist name before he shortened it to V for his gang related work. He flipped through the book and handed it to you when he found what he was looking for. There were pictures of different art pieces he had made. Each page had photos of the progression and the finished product with handwritten notes next to it as to when it was sold and for how much. The numbers made your eyes widen. There were things that you would expect to see in a museum. You were speech-less.

            He grabbed your hand once again and led you out of the studio and into the hallway. There were some more pieces hanging throughout the hallways, those he wouldn’t part with. There was one that was so breathtaking; it was a black and gray background, with a single light source from up center. In the center of the spotlight was a dancer clad in white, whose body was carved through shadows and face shown pale in the light, eyes closed in a serene way as if he was lost in the music you couldn’t hear. His arm was extended up to the light like a ballet dancer, so graceful. His hair, a steely blue, and the gathering shadows accentuate his sharp yet delicate features. And the more you looked at it, the more you began to realize that you had seen this person before.

            It was Jimin.

            As you were led to more art pieces, you started to realize that Taehyung had used Bangtan in many of them. They were breath taking. Not only were they all so good-looking, but the way Taehyung painted or photographed them made them look otherworldly. Near the end of a staircase that would lead to the top floor back to the floor some of their bedrooms could be found on, you found yourself stopped in front of what you came to realize was your favorite. It was a black and white photo made to look like a painting. There were seven people in front of a white background that looked like hands reaching out for each other. Five of the seven were leaning on each other, hunched over in a dramatic way. In the center were the final two, both with their arm up, one reaching for the sky and the other grasping the first wrist afraid to slip and let go. It was so simple yet complex, so artistic. You weren’t sure how long you were staring at it until Taehyung’s voice cut through your thoughts.

            “I was commissioned to make this for someone. But when it was done, I couldn’t part with it. The others loved it too. They hated that I was supposed to sell it to someone who wouldn’t understand it. So, Yoongi-hyung paid the commissioner for it, three times what he was going to pay me for it. Said he didn’t care how much the man wanted for it. It meant so much to us that it was priceless. Yoongi-hyung says it’s his favorite. I think it’s yours too.”

            “It’s so beautiful. You are truly an amazing artist.”

            “I have some great muses.”

            Taehyung and you stood there in silence a bit more before the silence was broken by someone coming out of one of the rooms. It was Hoseok. He looked a bit disheveled and breathless as if he had just run a mile, hair no longer sleek and tidy. He closed the door softly and turned with a grin, licking his lips in some sort of victory. He clapped his hands together and started down the hall with a hop in his step.

            He froze when he saw the two of you looking at him. “Umm...” he started nervously, “what are you two doing up here?”

            Oh right, I’m probably not meant to be up here. That’s why he’s confused. You turned your eyes back to the floor and your shoulders started to hunch. You didn’t want to intrude on their space. You were just following Taehyung and thought it was okay. But it would seem like not everyone was alright with his idea.

            Tae noticed the change in your posture and was having none of that, especially after he worked so hard to get you out of your shell to begin with. “I told you I was going to show her around the house. I was showing Y/N some of my artwork in my studio and figured I would show off the good ones. She really likes this one. I can’t say I blame her.”

            Hobi looked over at the painting. “Oh yeah, it is pretty. But don’t you have a copy of it in your phone you could have shown her? I thought we were just gonna keep it to the ground floors until Namjoon-.”

            “I’m sorry,” you said, arms wrapping around yourself in a nervous way. “I’m not trying to intrude. I wouldn’t have come up here unless Taehyung had brought me.”

            Hoseok noticed the way your hand clenched at your clothes and how you didn’t look at him in the face. And suddenly, he felt bad. “Shit, I didn’t mean it like that. I was just surprised. We normally don’t have people up here. I wasn’t expecting you. I don’t care if you come up here. Just as long as you don’t go into any rooms without permission.”

            “Well, of course she won’t, hyung. You see how nervous she is just at the thought of intruding. I just didn’t want her sitting in one room all day. Jeez, she’ll probably be hanging on the first two floors anyways. That’s where all the fun is.”

            Hobi threw his hands up in defeat. “Alright, Taehyungie, I get it. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. Y/N, I’m sorry. I was just surprised. It’s been a long morning.” You nodded your head in confirmation.

            “Now to a better point. What were you doing?” Taehyung fixed his hyung with an accusing look and a smirk from behind you. As if I can’t guess.

            Hobi frowned back at Taehyung before pushing his hand through his hair to tidy himself back up. “I was making sure Hyung went to rest and not back to work. You know how Yoongi-hyung can be when he’s away from his screens. He took some convincing but he’s asleep now in his room. And I,” he fished a key from the pocket of his jeans, “stole the key to the Genius Lab so he won’t be tempted to sneak in and work. He should be out for a few hours. He may skip lunch for now, but I’ll make sure he eats before he needs to have his next dosage for you.” He smiled brightly at you. “So, what do you think of the Magic Shop?”

            “It’s incredible. You guys must have really worked hard to make it so beautiful.”

            “Yeah, it took a few years to get right. But it’s been such a great sanctuary for us. Tell you what, I need to go into town for a bit. I’m sure Taehyung has told you about the dance studio if he’s showing off all his side work. I need to pick up Jimin. He apparently was called in this morning to help with some minor things but he’s not feeling too well to drive back alone. But when I get home, I’ll show you something we’ve been working on with the kids in our class. It’s really fun. Then we can all have lunch.” Hobi moved past you two, making sure to greet Tannie with a series of silly voices and pets.

            Taehyung gave his hyung a confused look. “Is Minnie okay?”

            “Yeah, he’s fine. It’s just about the end of the month. I’m sure he’s gonna try to push it off again.” Realization dawned on Taehyung and he smacked his head for overlooking it with everything going on. You didn’t ask what they meant since it really wasn’t your business. Perhaps it was just some stress related thing that focused on his time of the month. You were sure with everything going on, Bangtan must push themselves too far and that leads to poor health. If Jimin was sick, you would be happy to check him out since you were there to be an in-home care. It would give you something else to focus on. The two said goodbye and Hobi dashed down the stairs.

            “Come on, let’s take Tannie out in the courtyard and I’ll show you some more of pieces on the way.

            You happily followed him, chasing after the positive feeling you had earlier. Your anxieties had been growing more difficult to contain. It must be because you weren’t taking your medicine. You were hoping Dr. Na would have been helpful in finding out what it was so you could get back on track. But with everything that happened back at the hospital, you hadn’t been so lucky. You didn’t even turn in the script he had given you for a mild antianxiety medication to take in its place because you were still so mad at him and hurt. And yet, here you were with the people who ruined him for you, acting like they were your friend. All these feelings and emotions were confusing.

            As you arrived back on the second floor and at the landing of the familiar staircase, you both could hear someone walking around, pacing by the sounds of it. At first, you thought it was Hoseok again, but Namjoon’s voice could be heard just a harsh whisper. Whoever he was talking to, he was not happy about something.

            “I can’t believe you are trying to blow me off right now. How is that fair? My family needs security. Didn’t you say it would only take you a few hours? I know I got the dates mixed up but that shouldn’t matter to you. If you haven’t noticed, my family’s been in a bit of chaos recently and you were supposed to help ease some of my tension with information. At least tell me what you do have. What do you mean you aren’t done with your initial check? Why isn’t it done? I’m sure you’re busy, but you owe me!” The closer the two of you got to the stairs, the more you could pick up the frustration in Namjoon’s voice. He walked from a hallway near the bottom of the stairs, phone raised to his ear. He had changed from his morning clothes into a pair of jeans and a blue sweater, something more presentable. He didn’t seem aware of the two of you, so engrossed with his conversation. His eyes were narrow behind his glasses. He was agitated in a way you hadn’t seen since he saved you from Choi the first time. And you were not a fan of seeing him angry. “You said you’d come today and now you’re flaking out on me when I need you? That’s really great, Jackson. No, I am not overreacting. I trusted my gut to a point, but I need hard facts here. I needed them yesterday. Just go with it? Jackson, they’re in my house now, and you’re telling me to go with it?! No, two days is not okay! Don’t make me chase you down, you son of a bitch.” He let out a growl that didn’t fit with his current image. Taehyung didn’t like how mad his leader was getting. The younger knew full well what Namjoon was so angry about and he wished he hadn’t used a flighty character like Jackson to do something Tae could have easily done. But he knew that Namjoon needed an outsider’s opinion. “Fucking fine, how long? You better be here in two days or so help me…,” he let the person on the other end of the phone fill in the blank before he ended the call with a huff.

            Taehyung took the opportunity to clear his throat to announce your presence, which startled Joon more than he would have liked. It took him a second before he let his emotions slip back behind the mask of a calm leader you had come to expect. You were aware that Tae was standing closer to you than before, like he was securing your place next to him.

            “Everything ok, hyung?”

            “Yeah, sorry, didn’t see you there. How much did you hear?”

            “Just you getting mad. But don’t worry, it’s all good.” You gather that Taehyung knew exactly what Namjoon was wanting from this Jackson person but didn’t want to explain it to you. He grabbed your hand with his free one and pulled you down the stairs. “Y/N got to meet Tannie. We know how much he doesn’t like new people and, guess what, he likes her. How great is that? He never likes people other than you guys so quickly. He must know she’s a good person.”

            You weren’t sure what else that was supposed mean, but it made the wheels in Namjoon’s head start to turn. Was that conversation about you? Did he not trust you in his home? Then why had they discussed bringing you here? He had hesitated back when Taehyung had mentioned showing you around the house. You knew they wanted to be careful, but wasn’t it their idea to bring you in? Why would he be so concerned now? You remember that he was supposed to talk to you about it before bringing you here but had forgotten. Was it more than just easing you into this that he wanted to talk about? Maybe this was a mistake? Or were you just overthinking things again?

            “Well, I’m taking Y/N to the courtyard. Don’t let Jackson mess you up. You’re smarter than him anyways. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

            You started to follow Taehyung back down the hall. As you passed, you could tell that Namjoon was struggling with something. If it was about you, you wanted to tell him that you would do whatever made them more comfortable, even if that meant staying in one place like you wanted to with Hoseok. But Taehyung took your hand again and gave it a squeeze, like he knew you were overthinking things again. “Wait a second,” Namjoon said, voice sounding like he had come to a firm decision.

            The two of you stopped and looked back at Bangtan’s leader. He took a deep breath. “Y/N, I’m glad you’re here. And I mean it when I say welcome to our home. This is a bit new for us but considering the circumstances, this is the best option. Jin and I had been talking before about what happens when you come here, and both agree that we want you to be comfortable and not worried about anything. So, that being said, we came to an agreement about something very important. And I’ll let you decide what happens here. I know you said you want us to keep the darker side of our work away from you, and we have tried to respect that as much as possible. Being in our home may make that a bit more challenging. But we are still willing to do that if you want us to. But if you want, this may make being here a whole lot easier and may clear up some of those hesitations about us you may have,”

            You were willing to listen to what he had to say. “What is it?”

            “Yeah, hyung,” Taehyung said, tentatively, unsure of where this was going. “What do you mean? I don’t think we’ve talked about whatever this is.”

            “We haven’t Tae. But Jin-hyung and I talked about it before and based on some gut feelings, this may be for the best for everyone. But it ultimately falls on Y/N to decide. Jin would like to say ‘hello’ to you. He’s in his lab.”

            “Lab?” You had heard them mention a lab many times but you didn’t think that’s what it was. But by the way that Taehyung reacted to and, and how he had mentioned how you wouldn’t want to go down there, made you realize this was more than that.

            “Namjoon-hyung, are you sure about that?”

            He waved Taehyung off. “Like I said, this may make things for you much easier to understand and take some fear of us away. But if you prefer, we can just ignore it fully. But if you are willing, Jin-hyung would like to show you something in his lab. Jin-hyung does a lot of research and is working on something very important that may change how you see us. But it’s important. But if you don’t want to, I’ll understand, and we’ll keep pretending like nothing has changed. I give you control.”

            You hadn’t had much control over the life you could remember. Leaving your ex and choosing to help Bangtan was really the first taste of control you had, and it was still scary. Maybe being in the dark was a good option. But them allowing you to have a say really meant a lot to you. The fear of what you would find out started to be outweighed by the prospect of clarity. But what if they were wrong? Was it better to stay in the dark? You started to wring your hands together. You had already started to change your view of them since Yoongi had talked about his past and Taehyung had showed you things you would have never thought you’d come to see from them. Was that enough to trust that Namjoon was doing what he thought was best? Looking into his eyes, you saw only patience as he allowed you time to process all the thoughts and feelings.

            You took a deep breath. “I hope this goes the way you planned.”

                                       ****************************

            As you followed in step behind Namjoon and Taehyung, with Yeontan held comfortably in the younger’s hand, in a darkened tunnel, you were really hoping that this would go the way Namjoon had hoped. They had taken you from the front foyer where you had started and down the same hall that led to the kitchen. You had been so had been so distracted by the pictures on the wall that you hadn’t noticed that there was an arched door to the left just before you reached the end of the hall. Namjoon pressed his thumb against a scanner on the doorknob and the sound of multiple heavy locks snapped open echoed against the walls. The door swung open to a granite stairway that was dimly lit. Namjoon had explained that this used to take guests down to the old train platform before they renovated it. When they had first taken residence, it had been so ill-kempt and dilapidated that they worried the tunnels would collapse. Most of the platforms and tunnels had been sealed and closed off. And a few that were in good condition were converted into something useful. But the biggest had been designated as Jin’s personal work area. At the bottom of the staircase, you could see the old remnants of the old train tunnels and platforms. The tunnel was dimly lit but you could still see the curve of the arched ceiling, the old support beams, the drop off from the platform to the old rail ways. Claustrophobia started to tighten its fingers around your throat, and your fingers tightened around the strap of your bag in some way to ground yourself. You were sure that anyone who had stumbled into here would have found it abandoned and unsafe. Which, in hindsight, was probably what Bangtan wanted. But you reminded yourself that they wouldn’t put you in danger. And this was supposed to help you.

            Ahead of you, Taehyung and Namjoon were whispering to each other. You were trying not to eavesdrop, but you did catch that Tae seemed worried about this plan. At least he was trying to keep his promise to you and keep you away from things like this. You really did appreciate that and found yourself believing that he really was your friend here. This was a very big deviation from the plan that the two of you had agreed upon a few weeks ago. But something in the way that you caught Namjoon’s plea for the younger to trust him made you want to believe that this was to make everything better. You understood that this was a very big step for them and something that would probably never be taken into consideration. So, this had mean more than you anticipated. You didn’t want to try to imagine what you were being led to. Could it be a scare tactic to make sure you didn’t talk, or something to bribe you? Neither of those fit with the way that Namjoon had presented the option to come down here and you wanted to believe that Taehyung wouldn’t allow it. You took a deep breath to try to refocus your mind on anything else.

            After a bit, as you started to wonder if there was ever an end to this dark tunnel, you could just make out the bricked-up wall that blocked the rest of the way. It was a dead-end, complete with road blockers covered in an inch of dust, caution tape that looked ancient, and crumbling stones. Another façade. Namjoon reached out to one of the broken bricks and pulled it down like it was a lever, which it was, as a door clicked. The door of bricks slid open like some secret passageway in a spy movie revealing a thick wall of steel and a flood of bright light illuminated your shocked face.

            You felt like Alice after she fell down the rabbit hole as you stepped from the dark granite onto sterile white tile. How could you still be in the same place? Taehyung had called it a basement workshop and Namjoon had called it a lab, but this was beyond what you could have imagined based on those descriptions. It was like you had stepped into some blockbuster superhero’s hideaway. The lab was large, larger than the pharmaceutical one at Mercy. There seemed to be sections where different projects were being handled. Stainless steel tables were covered with different lab equipment that looked familiar, vials filled with many different liquids and powders, microscopes of varying sizes and usages, chemical analyzers, and centrifuges of the highest quality. On a wall, there were many canisters of different drugs based on the labels you could make out, many of them you had used in the hospital.  Two people in white lab coats were noting some results of something in a petri dish that you were sure you didn’t want to know what it was. Looking behind the amount of lab equipment, there was a small medical area that looked like a walk-in clinic you had visited once before coming to Central. There was an exam table, stretcher, enough emergency medical supplies that made you feel like you were back in the ER. If they had all of this at their disposal, they surely didn’t really need you around. You remembered Jin had once mentioned he had medical training and took care of the others, but you assumed it was first aid training and not actual medical training.

            On the other side of the room, as clean and as well organized as the lab and medical area, was another workshop that was dedicated to all sorts of different tools and weapons of their trade. There were blueprints for a variety of items pinned to a board with notes and arrows all around them. There were multiple wide touch screens with information and numbers, molds and mockups, knives, guns, and other weapons in different ranges of finishes. You could see three or four dummies that looked as if they had been very well used. One had a vest on with bullet holes in it, another had slashes and stab marks that you dared not think about. Further back, there was what appeared to be a small shooting target lined with thick glass that you assumed was bulletproof to protect the workers. There was another person in a white lab coat and goggles who was working intently on piecing together a handgun. And in the very center of the room, sat a huge computer with four different large, active screens, was Jin. He was dressed sharply, as he always was, complete with a stark white lab coat. A pair of round silver glasses slid down his nose as he scribbled something on a notepad while looked at something dissolving in a yellow liquid. He looked like some handsome yet mad scientist at work. The glow of the screens cast a pale pallor on his skin and you could see a tiredness on his drawn features. Whatever he was working on, he must have been at it for a while, or was stressing him out a bit.

            “Did I somehow stumble into the Batcave?”

            “Feels like that sometimes. Jin-hyung’s like the Korean Bruce Wayne isn’t he,” Taehyung laughed.

            “I think he’d prefer Tony Stark,” Namjoon remarked.

            “Aren’t they the same thing,” you asked.

            “I’ll ignore that since you’re cute, Darling,” Jin called out, never looking from the liquid in the beaker in his hand. “But there is a preferrable difference.”

            Yeontan started squirming in Taehyung’s arms until he was placed on the tile and ran to Jin’s side. The tiny puppy jumped, trying to climb up into his lap, crying out for more attention.

            “Aish,” Jin exclaimed, dropping the beaker on the table, thankfully not breaking. “Taehyung why is Yeontan in my lab?! We talked about this.”

            “But he missed his Uncle Jin so much,” Taehyung smirked.

            Jin rolled his eyes as he scooped up the puppy and made his way over to the three of you. He handed the puppy back to Taehyung after scratching the pup’s tiny head. “Just keep an eye on him. I don’t want to think of what he could get into.” He turned his attention to you, flashing you a warm smile. “Welcome to my lab, Y/N. I’m so glad you decided to join us down here. I promise that you won’t regret it. I was hoping to meet you when you first got here but I’ve been quite busy. I trust Taehyung has shown you the house. Though,” he fixed the younger with a sideways glance, “I see he didn’t show you where to put your stuff down and has made you carry it all this way. I know I have taught you better manners than that.”

            “No, he’s been such a good host. I just never set it down. Actually, it’s been nice to hang onto,” you explained, saving Taehyung from whatever tongue lashing he was about to receive. “It gives my nervous hands something to do.”

            “Ah, well, we do know a bit about anxiety and habits here. Do whatever you need to feel comfortable.” He dusted off his hands and slipped his glasses into the top pocket of his lab coat.

            Up close, Jin looked just as amazing as always. Your hands tightened around the strap of your bag again, just to keep from getting overwhelmed. This was going to be a normal occurrence if they were all going to be here with you. His pink hair was combed back from his face as if he had ran his fingers through it many times while working. He was wearing a white button up shirt with a grey sweater vest, dark trousers, and polished shoes. Somehow, he always looked like he was modeling for something. Though, you did notice a bit of bruising peeking out on his collarbone.

            “Are you okay? It looks like you had some issues with CrossFit too.”

            Jin looked at you with a look of utter confusion. “CrossFit?”

            You nodded. “Yes, Namjoon has one too. He said he got it from doing CrossFit with you. I hope it doesn’t hurt too much.”

            Jin’s eye were drawn behind you to his members, who were silently trying to communicate without drawing your attention. Joon was pointing to the mark on his own neck before making a pleading motion with his hands. Taehyung was trying to communicate their intention with his eyes as much as possible.

            “Oh yeah,” Jin said, slowly, realization striking him before he slid back into his trained persona so not to arise any suspicion from you. “CrossFit. Right. Well, you know how it goes. He crossed me so I did what I saw fit.” From behind you, Namjoon seemed to choke on air and Taehyung tried his best to stifle a laugh. You turned around to see what was going on, completely confused and clearly missing something. But Jin turned your attention back to him. “Don’t worry about me, Darling. My perfect skin may be marred for the moment but I will survive. But thank you for your concern.”

            “Well, it is sort of my job. Though based on what I see, you really don’t need me.”

            “Nonsense! You are a professional, and we could definitely use someone with your delicate touch. Whatever you may need, you can just ask. And if I don’t have it, I will get it for you faster than any hospital could. I know many higher ups in all the companies in the country and they would leap at the chance to get in my good graces.”

            Suddenly, a loud bang ricocheted off the wall and made you scream and drop your bag, spilling its contents all over the floor. Bangtan only moved from your scream. Jin’s hands came up to grasp your shoulders, steadying you and trying to reassure you of your safety. He bend down so he was able to look into your eyes and whispered assurances that you were alright. From behind Jin, the young man who had been dealing with the handgun had finished piecing it together and fired a shot at the target. He looked over at you with a surprised look on his face, not realizing someone new was in the room. Taehyung had already crossed the room and snatched the gun from the younger’s hands and stowing it away. He gave Soobin a pointed look that spoke volumes. Namjoon had stoop down to start retrieving your bag. 

            “Soobin,” Jin yelled over his shoulder, “you didn’t think to look up before you shot that? Or at least put a silencer on it?”

            “I’m sorry, sir,” the youth replied. “I’m really sorry ma’am.” He scrambled away from the work bench and over to you all to assist Namjoon in locating all of your items.

            “I’m sorry, Darling, I really didn’t want something to scare you. My intention was to make this less scary for you. Here, come sit over here. Take a deep breath for me. Taehyung, can you go get her some water? Take another deep breath, Darling. Yes, just like that.”

            “This was a mistake,” you said between breaths, alternating between wringing and shaking your hands to try get the tremors to stop. Your voice was cracking as you tried to keep from crying out of sheer panic. “I shouldn’t have agreed to come in here. Why did you think this would be a good idea? What was the point? To scare me into keeping your secrets?

            “Absolutely not. We would never want to put you through that. We trust that you won’t say anything. This was to shed some light on what we’re actually doing here.”

            Taehyung appeared next to you with a bottle of water, which you graciously took and swallowed half the bottle.

            “Hyungs,” he pleaded, “maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. We wanted her to be comfortable and she asked us to hide this part of us as much as possible.”

            “And we did,” Jin agreed. “Y/N, we tried. And it was easier when it was just going from your place to the hospital and back. But with you being in our house, unless we lock you up in the living room, it’s going to be hard for you not to see some aspect of our work. That’s why Joon and I had this conversation. We thought that after all the time we spent making this relationship with you that you’d trust us enough. And we thought if you saw what we are working on down here, it might clear the air and ease some of these anxieties that still plague you. But we’ve taken an unexpected turn. Just try to relax. You’re still shaking.”

            “I wish I had taken Doctor Na’s offer for some new anti-anxiety medication,” you muttered to yourself, remembering his suggestion in the stairwell. You had a feeling your anxieties were just going to get worse.

            You looked over as Namjoon came to the desk with your bag, all its contents gathered back inside. All except a familiar clear bottle. Your old medication that you had forgotten was in there since the night Doctor Na had followed you into the stairwell after you saw the exchange of U4-1A. The familiar want you felt then of wanting to down that last pill in the bottle and escape world came back. But you didn’t take it then, you didn’t need it now. You wanted nothing to do with that past life anymore. Hell, you only wanted to know what it was so you could find an alternative that wouldn’t remind you of Daniel. But the temptation was strong as Namjoon held it out for you.

            “This is yours, right,” he questioned. “I found it rolled under a table. And it doesn’t look like anything Jin-hyung’s been working on.”

            “It’s mine,” you said as you took it from him. “It’s old medication from my ex-…um, I mean, from my accident. I ran out and Doctor Na was trying to figure out what it was since the label’s been lost. But our hospital pharmacy couldn’t identify it. I forgot to clean out my bag with…everything going on.”

            “May I?” Jin held out his hand for the bottle. You shrugged, handing it to him. He dumped the pill into his palm and started to examine it with the same focused intensity as he had earlier. He made a face. “A generic white pill with no discernable characteristics. And you don’t remember its name?”

            “I don’t remember ever hearing it. I started taking it after I woke up from my accident. The nurse or my ex would just bring it to me. And then, Daniel would get it refilled after that since I couldn’t drive. When I came to Central, I only had what was left in the bottle and had to space it out. I haven’t taken it for a couple weeks now. It’s probably why my anxiety is really bad.”

            “I can find out what it is for you. I guarantee I’ll have more success than some basic pharmacist fresh out of school. I’ve some connections I can talk with to help me analyze it. And,” Jin held up a hand to silence the protest you were about to pose, “these connections are not gang related. Before I became estranged from my family, I was the second heir to the largest pharmaceutical company in all the country. Despite my father’s best efforts, I was very friendly and charming with our specialists and made plenty of valuable connections to help me in the future. So, if anyone can figure out what this is, it’s me.”

            You were stunned into silence. You remember him mentioning medical training and about his father pushing for a different career, but you never imagined he was a part of the Kim Pharmaceutical dynasty. Of course, you had heard of them; all the hospitals pharmacies in the city were stocked with their products, and every doctor read their research reports and trail information. They beat out every other company when it came to advancements in health services. And they were close to celebrity status amongst the papers. You recalled overhearing some pharmacy interns at lunch talking about them. They mentioned that the company was ran by the Senior Mr. Kim, who had been married twice after his first wife passed, leaving him with two sons to take over the company in the next few decades. The oldest was always showing up in the papers. And the second son was said to be away at some foreign school. Which, now knowing that Jin was the second son, was much better for their publicity than saying ‘a part of the most notorious drug dealing, ruthless Mafia families’. You remembered that night in your apartment when Jin had mentioned blackmailing his father for access to his assets. And, looking around at the lab, it seemed to have paid off well.

            As you let the information settle in your mind, you realized that your hands had stopped shaking and your breathing had evened back out. They had successfully distracted you from your panic so your mind could recenter. Well, you recalled, they did say that they had experience with anxiety.

            “Come on, Y/N,” Taehyung said, gently, “let’s head back upstairs. We’ll find something normal to distract ourselves until the others are ready for lunch.”

            “Alright,” you said with a deep sigh, “but, before I have another panic attack here, what was so important that I had to come down here? Just tell me. Please.”

            “Ah, of course,” Jin said, reaching over to a drawer and pulling out a small clear container. Inside, you could see several small, heart -shaped, pink tablets, no bigger than a breath mint. You had seen the news, read the papers, heard the doctors talking about it. That was U4-1A, Euphoria. When the first few cases had started coming into your ER, you were told to check and see if they had those heart-shaped pills on them, though you had never seen them. The distinct pink color was, also, a dead giveaway; it was the same color the user’s irises turned when they were high on the addictively deadly substance. The few times you had been in the room with some of the addicts that Doctor Na was working with, you recalled a rose-colored ring on the edges of their eyes that seemed so unnatural. Your stomach twisted at the thought of Henry taking the drug from Namjoon when he was supposed to be helping people. He couldn’t even deny it. “You know what this is?”

            “Why the hell would you show that to me?! I asked for one thing. I could look past some things, try to ignore things. Like I could ignore the amount of money coming and going. I could ignore the weapons, or any other reminders. But I asked specificity for this not be mentioned.”

            “Darling,” Jin chided in an amused tone, “I just asked what this was.”

            “Are you fucking for real? It’s Euphoria…”

            “Wrong,” Jin interrupted as he reached out and tapped you on the nose, completely taking you off guard and disarming you. “This isn’t Euphoria, or U4-1A. This is Euphoric. U4-1C.”

            Never heard of that. “Okay. So, what? It’s a knock off?”

            Jin looked offended. “A knock off. My dear, like me, it’s an original that others fail to compare to. It is the only one of its kind and so important to the work we do here. And before you insinuate, no, it is not what started this addict epidemic. The ones who have that despicable honor are Ji and the Royals. This” he held it up to you again so you could see it was more closely shaped like a triangle, “is my solution to it. For the past five or six years now, I have been secretly working on a counter agent to make that horrid drug obsolete and save the people who either willing or unwilling were made to take it. This is going to be the antidote. It’s not finished fully. I haven’t been able to fully identify the exact formula the Royals use. And it’s not an instant cure. But introducing this to someone going through withdrawals, instead of to induce a sexual release, the addict would just need to exert themselves another way, like exercise or something else that released the pleasure signal in the brain. It takes a lot of time and constant dosing but I’ve gotten it to where after so long it can be tapered off from every day to once a month, and soon only once every other month. I am making a cure. And we pass it out to those in need. That’s what I wanted you to see. That we aren’t the bad guys. Well… at least not for this.”

            You let his words absorb and you felt like you had been doused with cold water. So, when Hwasa cornered Namjoon in the hallway of the hospital and took something from his pocket and mentioned ‘someone will find your kindness absolutely… euphoric’, she was taking an antidote to someone addict to U4-1A? That means…what Namjoon had given Henry, what Henry had used for his patients, what he couldn’t talk about was that he was accepting a possible progressive treatment for the poor souls in the hospital. He was, indeed, a good person. And you had thought the worst of him. Any time he tried to talk to you, you’d run in the other direction. You blocked his number and deleted any trace in your phone. You had thrown away everything because you didn’t want to believe him when he had begged you to trust him. 

            “Oh my god,” was all you could say as your head fell into your hands. “I have made a total ass of myself.” Was there a chance Henry would listen to your apology after all of that?

            “You see,” Taehyung said, “I told you we knew the damage Euphoria does to people. We’ve been trying to fight this.”

            “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Like that night in the car?”       

            “It’s still a work in progress and a secret,” Namjoon said. “Only a few gangs that have proven trustworthy know we supply it. And they distribute it within their own territory. Or, in the case of your doctor friend, those who did us a great service. We did intimidate him into silence. Which was what you must have seen. Can’t say I blame you for what you thought based on what it looked like. He’d get more if he stayed silent. We don’t want our name attached to it just yet. The Royals already want us dead based on our past with them and our part in the Great War. If they knew what Jin-hyung was doing, it would a bigger target on our backs. But once it’s completely finished, then we’ll openly distribute it to the hospitals and clinics. But we hope that you understand the importance of this secret for us. It’s more than just our lives at risk if the wrong people get word of it. And if Choi already thinks that you’re with us, imagine how much worse it will be when he finds out that we are destroying yet another income for them. Do you understand, Y/N?”

            “This whole time, you’ve been doing a great feat and I’ve been so focused on the rumors. You really are the good guys trying to help?”

            “We’re really good at hiding ourselves. We’ve had years of practice showing the persona we want people to believe.

            “Yeah,” Taehyung said with a cheeky grin, “I mean look at Namjoon-hyung. He puts on a persona that he’s smooth when, in reality, he’s a giant dork who breaks everything he touches.”

            “I’ll break you, you fucking brat.”

            Jin reached out and knocked both of them upside the head. “Language!”

            And you laughed. You laughed without the weight of anxiety or fear weighing you down. For the first time, you felt like you were truly safe.

                                                    ****************************

            The next couple of days went by in a pleasant way, falling into a simple routine that you started to look forward to. One of them would pick you up in the morning, making sure to stop by Holli’s Café for a morning caffeine fix, before taking different ways to the Magic Shop that ensured you were still none-the-wiser as to how to get there. Once there, you would find Yoongi either waiting in the kitchen for you or in the expansive gym where you would start with his rehabilitation exercises after you checked and redressed his wounded shoulder. Now that Yoongi was home, there was a difference from the person at the hospital. He was still quiet but much more open to conversations and approachable. The conversations between the two of you were deep and easy like the ones you had with Amber. And you looked forward to them. There was one time you had made a stupid joke that had made him laugh freely. And that felt like a simple accomplishment that warmed you up. And you couldn’t help but find his laugh adorable. One morning, he brought you to his ‘Genius Lab’. According to the others, it was incredibly rare that he even mentioned his safe haven to outsiders, let alone let them see it. But he had made an exception for you.

            The Genius Lab was more like an office where Yoongi spent a good deal of time juggling between work, reflection, and solitude when the world became too much. The space suited his style; grey walls with dark accents and floors, a sleek black desk with three large monitors and computer equipment. Opposite the desk was a long black leather couch that looked quite comfortable. And the room was completely soundproof. When he had brought you into the Genius Lab, he showed off some of his work. You watched as he pulled up different views of various streets all over Central, some storefronts where he pointed out Bangtan’s hired help stationed out front, and the exteriors of the hospital popped up on the screens. You were very thankful that they were still monitoring your workplace. Yoongi tapped on a few keys and different angles of your apartment appeared across the screens, both outside and inside. He played back your morning; Hobi pulling up in a nondescript black car, him swaying to the music in his earpiece as he rode the elevator up, to letting himself into your apartment and waiting for you with Holli’s coffee in his hand. You remembered Taehyung telling you about the cameras they put in your apartment that first morning. While you thought it would be more invasive, you found comfort in his watchfulness.

            This morning had started as usual; Jin had come to pick you up this time to bring you to the Magic Shop. The only one you hadn’t seen since arriving at the Magic Shop was Jimin. He hadn’t appeared at lunch the first day as you expected. You shrugged it off, remembering that Hobi had mentioned he hadn’t been feeling well. But you still hadn’t seen or heard from him. The drive over to the Magic Shop was as winding and secretive as always. Though they had started going in a different way. From the street, it looked as if he had pulled up to an abandoned auto mechanic gas station in the lower section of town. At the touch of a button on the dashboard, a spray-painted door rolled open to a dark tunnel that ended at the parking level of the Magic Shop. You wanted to question how the construction worked or how it had remained secret but decided against it.

            As you ascended the spiral staircase after Jin, that was where the morning took an unusual turn.

            When you stepped into the large front foyer, you were greeted by the sounds of a struggle. Instinctually, you grabbed ahold of Jin’s arm and hid behind his broad shoulders, causing him to chuckle at the cute action. Coming through the front door was a blindfolded man being dragged in by both arms by Yeonjun and another hired staff member. He was yelling all sorts of vulgarities and kicking out in many directions, like he was throwing a tantrum and not trying to escape.

            “Motherfucker! I told you to stop manhandling me like this! You know who I am? I will mess you up!”

            “Such dramatics,” Jin bemused, “He acts like he hasn’t gone through this before. Yeonjun, did he cause you a lot of trouble?”

            “Sir,” Yeonjun snapped to attention, still keeping his captive held tightly. “He tried to give us the slip. We met him at the appointed time but he tried to run. Even tried to jump out of the car.”

            Jin tsked. “Jackson, so disappointing. I thought we had a better relationship than that.”

            “Jin,” Jackson called out, head snapping in different directions to try and focus on him from behind the blindfold, “buddy, come on. I got the times mixed up and your boy jumped on me. Can we take this stupid blindfold off? I thought we’d be past this.”

            “Jackson, you are like a rash; unwanted, hard to deal with, and annoying.”

            “Damn, that hurt.” Yeonjun shoved Jackson forward, causing the man to stumble freely. He ripped the blindfold off his face and turned back to the younger, fist clenched. “Fucking punk, I’ll wipe that fucking smile off your prepubescent face!”

            “Jackson,” Jin said in a commanding tone that in any other situation would be attractive. Stop it, you mentally screamed. “Refrain from threatening my employee in my home before I let him show you why he’s one of our best. Be a good boy and mind your manners. I’ll go get Namjoon to deal with you. Yeonjun, just make sure he stays here and doesn’t try to slip something into his pocket again. I’ll be right back.” Jackson snorted and rolled his eyes as he straightened himself out. Jin turned around to you, taking your hand and giving it a squeeze. “I’ll be back in a moment, Darling. Don’t worry, Jackson is like a tiny dog; he’s all bark and nothing else, and easy to kick.” Jin’s eye flicked up towards the corner of the room with a sharp look before he turned back to you with a smile. That was weird. “Yoongi-ah should be here soon. Just hang tight and introduce yourself if you want to. And if Jackson does anything ungentlemanly, just tell Yeonjun and he’ll make him regret it.”

            Before you could beg to just run upstairs, Jin patted you on the shoulder and disappeared. You had to remember that Bangtan would never leave you in any danger since they were bound to protect you. You remembered hearing Namjoon mention Jackson’s name before and figured they wouldn’t bring someone into their home that was a danger. You looked over to Jackson. The man’s dual toned hair was messy from his struggling. He pulled a pair of sunglasses from his baggy pants pocket and pushed them up onto his head, like a makeshift headband.

            Then, he noticed you. And you felt like you were a mouse caught in a snake’s site. A cool smile smoothed across his lips as he made his way over to you.

            “Well, look at you. I’ve never seen you around here before. What’s a cute, little thing like you doing here? I’m Jackson. You need anything, I’m the one who will know how and where to find it. Individual contractor. Know-it-all extraordinaire. Master of the Silver Tongues.” He offered his hand out for yours.

            “Um, hi, I’m Y/N.” You hesitated to shake his hand.

            “So, what are you? You’re too cute to be related to any of them. You look far too meek to be one of us. And I’d hope you have better taste than to be trying to date one of these losers when someone like me exists. I can tell you, you can do better. I’ve known these guys for a long time. Trust me, they’ve got odd taste that would disagree with such a cute mouse like you.”

            You retracted your hand. Jackson started to circle you, eyeing you up and down. It wasn’t threatening but you kept your eyes on him. Yeonjun gave you a look but you waved him off for the moment. You could handle yourself.

            “I’m a nurse. I’m assisting them after an incident.”

            “Ooh a nurse? What luck, I’m in need of some attention after all that rough housing.” He winked. “Oh, shit, wait, you’re the one that ran into the gun fight? And took out one of the Royal’s guys? I heard he’s still recovering from severe concussion. Mad respect, sweetheart.”

            “How do you know about that?”

            “I make it my business to know things. That’s how I make a living. And why I’m in such demand. Word of what you did has made its rounds through many circuits. Though, I’ll be honest, I’d never be able to put your face to it. And that’s a good thing in this world. Though, if you want to be extra safe from the bad guys, you may want to reconsider who you’re staying with.”

             “What do you mean by that?” You turned to follow his eyes as he kept circling you. “Bangtan seems to be taking good care of me. And I don’t mean anything by this, but I haven’t heard anything about you until now.”

            “Isn’t that the point? I’m good at staying secret, keeping things secret. And they’re so high profile, it would be easy to find you if they slipped up. There are some things that can’t be bought from me. Like a cute, little mouse. And if I wanted to keep someone safe, I’d make sure no one ever found them. Especially, if they are as interesting as you.”

            “I’m interesting?”

            “How could you not be? You’re so innocent, so different from all the other people I’ve ever met. You just want to help, didn’t know what you were running into. And now you’re stuck, hiding from the mean world that is trying to punish your good deed. I mean, I’ve been their friend for years and I can’t say I’d run into a fight with Choi to save someone he’s trying to kill. So yeah, you’re the most interesting person in the world. And I’d love to get to know you better. Maybe you’ll let me take you out sometime to prove I’m a better waste of your time.”

            “And what makes you think I’d be okay with that?”

            “Well, I can give you a hundred reasons to leave these losers behind.” He stopped circling and leaned in so his nose was only a breath away from yours. “But I’m the only one that you need.”

            Unbeknownst to Jackson, Yoongi had appeared at the top of the staircase as Jackson started circling you. He watched the interaction with a scowl on his face. He descended the stairs with a ghostly quiet until he was right behind the rogue. You noticed him as Jackson had stopped to lean towards you and your breath caught in your throat. He looked mad, a fierce protectiveness was present in his dark eyes. He appeared at the right moment. Then, you realized. Yoongi had cameras in the Magic shop, he had mentioned it. And the look Jin had given to the wall that you didn’t understand must have been to one of Yoongi’s cameras that he was watching for when you had arrived as he had done before. They were still watching out for you. He stood so close to Jackson that you wondered how the other hadn’t sensed him yet, his face right next to his shoulder and gaze boring a hole in Jackson’s head. Jackson noticed that you were no longer paying him the attention he wanted and turned his eyes towards the directions yours were on. And he jumped as if he had just been electrocuted, putting some distance between him and the death glare he was receiving. 

            “Fucking hell, you bastard! Put a bell on your fucking neck! Damn, you scared the shit out of me!”

            “Good,” Yoongi said as he kept his eyes trained on Jackson. “Leave her alone, Jackson. She’s got enough problems without you trying to weasel your way into her bed.”

            “You wound me, Suga. I was just introducing myself to the lucky lady who is now one of the most famous women in our field.”

            “I said,” he took a step closer to him, and despite his arm still in a sling, he looked as if he was about to use it on Jackson, “leave her alone.”

            “Wow, back down, tiger. Sheesh, didn’t think you’d be so concerned about someone like her. Don’t you have your hands full already? Or are you just greedy? Or are you guys taking turns?”

            “Jackson!”

            Namjoon’s voice echoed against the walls. You looked up to the second floor where RM was leaning on the banister overlooking the foyer with Jin by his side glaring down at Jackson. RM looked as annoyed as his voice let on. He was all business with no sign of the calm Namjoon you had been seeing around the Magic Shop. With a power that befitted the Leader of Bangtan, he signaled for Suga to stand down and motioned for Jackson to follow him. With a final look and wink from Jackson to you, he flipped Yoongi off and made for the stairs. Suga, silently, watched him go, making mental notes for the future before he reached back and took your hand in his. You jumped, slightly. He hadn’t been physical with you like the others had, holding your hands, giving you a hug or playful shove. There was always a bit of distance, aside from the medical side of things.

            “Come on, Y/N. Let’s get out of here.”

            He had led you upstairs, asking if you were alright. While Jackson was a lot, it wasn’t something you couldn’t have handled. But you thanked him anyways for stepping in. It felt nice to have someone be so protective of you, something you weren’t so used to. He started leading you up towards the direction of the Genius Lab, where he insisted you stay until Jackson was gone, since it was secure and private, instead of the normal spaces you tended to occupy. Thankfully, the physical therapy you needed to do with Yoongi didn’t require much space and you carried all the equipment you needed in your bag. You figured Yoongi was not a fan of Jackson normally, remembering the disdain in his voice when Joon had mentioned him back at the hospital before. You were sure that Jackson’s display back in the foyer only made that worse and he wanted to keep an eye on when he left.

            As you made it to the floor, Yoongi stopped. “I almost forgot. I need to check on something real quick. Can you remember how to get to the Genius Lab?”

            “I think so. Do you need help?”

            “No. I just need to check on Jimin. I won’t be long.”

            “Is he alright? Is he still not feeling well? I can take a look if you need me to. That’s kind of my whole thing.”

            He gave your hand a squeeze as a little chuckle sat in his throat. “No, it’s nothing you need to worry about right now. He’s coming down with something but is putting off taking his medicine as long as he can. He’s being stubborn. Gets it from me, probably. I’m just making sure he’s still in his room resting. I’ll only be a moment. I promise. Here, this is my key to the Lab. Let yourself in and lock it. I use my code on the door. Not that I think Jackson will know where my office is but just to be safe.”

            Some part of you hated when he let go of your hand to head down the other side of the hall. You had to take a few breaths to let your professional masks fall back into place. You wished your emotions would settle. But being around someone as cute and protective had you feeling a certain way. A way which, you reminded yourself, you shouldn’t be feeling. You were hired to help him heal, not to let a crush develop. You really needed to get a grip. Yet, you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling as you made your way down the hall.

            However, after a few steps and turns, you had lied when you thought you could find the Genius Lab on your own. The only places you knew how to get to without much assistance was the kitchen, gym, and the family room. You had only been to the Genuis Lab once and you racked your brain for any distinguishing details that would help you find it again. What picture was near the door? What color was the door? Was the one with frosted glass or was that Taehyung’s art studio? You could just stand still and wait for Yoongi to come back and find you. Or you could text him that you were going to back to the foyer. Or text one of the others for help? Joon was busy with Jackson, and you weren’t sure where Jin went after that. Jimin, of course, was sick and shouldn’t be disturbed. And you wanted Yoongi to focus on Jimin and not you getting lost. You sent a text to Taehyung, hoping he wasn’t too busy to help you with what he was up to in town. You walked further down the hall only to stop and turn around after not recognizing anything.

            Wait, was this the same place you had started? Why must this place be so confusing?

            Your phone buzzed. You looked down at Taehyung’s text.

      TaeTae: I really got to make you a map LOL.

       TaeTae: Do you remember how to find the stairs? Get back there and look for your favorite painting of mine. The G.L is two doors down from that.

       TaeTae: If you can’t find it, I’m sure he’ll find you with the cameras. Sorry, I’m at a meeting right now.

            You could do this. Just find the stairs. Though that was easier said than done now that you had gotten all turned around. You’re sure Taehyung would make a joke out of this if you were ever found. After another turn, you did see a picture that seemed familiar and went down that direction. As you kept walking, you started to hear voices. At least that was a start. Once you found the source, you could orient yourself or ask for help. You followed the voices, and as they got louder, you recognized RM’s tone and regretted your discussion, not wanting to interrupt. That, and you were sure Yoongi didn’t want you near Jackson again so soon. But as you were about to turn back, their conversation caught your attention.

            “Haven’t I been super helpful to ya’ll? Who was the one who gave you that info about the Royals showing up?”

            “You, also, neglected to tell us that Choi was going to be there. And that is how Suga got hurt.”

            “An oversight. That must have changed at the last minute. I can’t be a mind reader.”

            “Even though you market yourself as one?”

            “Ok, true. But you of all people should know that they don’t do what they say. Regardless, I told you about the Ateez pirates. I said they were up to something interesting. You should trust me by now. I got the information. I may be an independent player in this game, but I like you guys. That’s why I keep my ears open for you. And, I haven’t spilled anything of yours.”

            “That’s because I don’t let you get anything worth spilling.”

            “Ouch, you wound me, bro. I thought we were closer than that.”

            Before you could help yourself, you found yourself stopped outside of Namjoon’s office. The door was barely cracked, but enough for you to see a bit inside. Namjoon’s office was much different from Yoongi’s; it was a large room with warm hardwood against velvety walls that declared power, with bookcases lining the grand walls. Thick hard-covered books filled the shelves like an extensive library. Seated at an opulent and ornate desk in a high wing backed chair was RM, his fingers threaded together and pressed against his lips as he peered sharply at Jackson. Jackson sat relaxed in a smaller, less comfortable chair. They were bathed in the crackling light of a roaring fire from the Victorian style fireplace that sat across from them. This was what you expected of a Mafia leader.

            “I don’t appreciate you making my second so upset. He’s supposed to be recovering. Something he wouldn’t have to be doing had you had better information. Maybe I should start going to someone else.”

            Jackson scuffed. “As if anyone could do what I do. Besides, I feel like you would have done it by now if there was anyone else. And if that asshole wasn’t so easily riled up he would be fine. I was just saying ‘hello’ to her. And trying to figure her out. She’s quite a surprise Joon.”

            “We are trying to keep her safe. That includes from you, Jackson. She’s a civilian who got caught up in the worst way. We just got her to relax around us. I’d thank you to not undo what I’ve been working hard to do.”

            “I hear you. Glad you took my advice to just go with it. I told you nothing bad would happen. I mean, what did you just say? ‘She’s a civilian’. I truly doubted she would be any problems.”

            “No thanks to you.” Joon leaned further in his chair, his dragon eyes glowing in the fire light. “I’ve been patient, Jackson. More than I should be given what I am dealing with here. Now, you are going to tell me what I asked you to find out for me before I let Suga do what he wanted to do.”

            “Damn, for someone who said it’s all business, you’re really pushing it here.”

            “Jackson,” you could tell that Namjoon’s patience was wearing thin. What was he so determined to know? Was it something to do with Choi or the Royals?

            “Man, look. I can find information about anyone. With just their name, I can tell you if they had late fees from their elementary school library or how many days their mother spent in the hospital recovering from birth.”   

            “And yet, it has taken you over a week to get back to me. Either you are slipping or you are full of shit.”

            “Or you’re dealing with a ghost.” Jackson reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small notepad. “Everything I found fits on two pages of this little flip pad. Even the most basic civilian fills half of the pages. But this Y/N girl is either that most boring person in the entire world or she’s a ghost.”

            Wait, he was here about you? Namjoon was looking for information about you? You thought you had been very open with them about anything they had asked you. He had asked you to trust him, but he didn’t trust you. He had hired Jackson to dig up anything on you that he could. He was nervous when you had first come to the Magic Shop but you thought you had worked past that. Hadn’t the time they had spent with you beforehand been enough to prove that you meant no harm to them or else why would he ask you to come here? You knew you shouldn’t listen to any of this, but you couldn’t move. You sunk to the ground and leaned against the wall, listening.

            “What are you talking about?”

            Jackson tossed the pad over to him to see for himself. “I mean, this girl has nothing before two years ago. All I could find is that she currently works at Central Mercy as an ER Nurse, she lives in a shitty apartment that’s overpriced for that part of town. Before that, there isn’t much. I found her college she attended for her expedited nursing degree where she got high marks. Her father worked for different police forces as a high up desk jockey, meaning she moved a lot so there isn’t much in regard to early years. But nothing else. Everything starts about two years ago. I was able to find a news article about a car accident that listed her as a passenger, so her amnesia story checks out as far as that. Can’t said I ever heard of someone using amnesia as a cover, but fuck if it wouldn’t be good. Father died and there was no mother listed on any paperwork. Father’s file is just as blank. Just he was basic cop who sat at a desk. After the accident, her only known address was some small studio in her name that was set up by the rehab she was assigned to by some Doctor Sung, who died a year after from a heart attack. Found all his files but it’s nothing interesting. She did some reception job for a clinic before she came here that was a nonprofit for student nurses and that had nothing useful other than what I already had. But that’s all. No ties anywhere, no real records until recently. Either she’s got the most boring, nonspecial life I’ve ever seen, or her life’s been invented by some crazy mastermind. And I’m leaning towards the first one, man. This girl is boring and is nothing in the grand scheme of things. And that’s the truth. The most interesting thing was meeting you guys. She’s harmless. She’s no threat to anyone except maybe herself with that stupid heroic shit. So, you worried for nothing. Your family is safe, just like I said it would be.”

            “How can that be all?” Namjoon seemed disappointed. “You’re telling me that there was no other information? How can someone’s life just go back two years? You must have missed something.”

            “I don’t miss shit. Listen, I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but that’s all there is. Her old man must have been from some off the grid town beforehand and didn’t leave footprints. She’s a nobody. She’s barely worth the time I spent looking for her.  So, stop worrying about her like she’s gonna turn into some problem. And if she does, you can kill her easily enough. Hell, there are seven of you, should be easy.”

            You couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped your lips. Namjoon’s eyes snapped towards the door, knowing full well that he had been caught. He rose from the desk and crossed the room, opening the door to find you rooted in place against the wall, eyes cast down with tears welling in the corners. It wasn’t just from the threat of being killed by the people you were supposed to trust, or the harsh words that Jackson had said about you. But it was the fact that you weren’t trusted. You were not granted the same thing he had begged you to do for them. And that hurt just as much.

            “Oh shit,” Jackson said with a hint of glee. “Little mouse likes to sneak around, huh? I can see why you didn’t want to trust her. Seems like she’ll get herself killed before too long.”

            “Jackson,” RM roared causing you to shrink further into yourself and the tears to flow freely. Namjoon looked down at you, instantly regretting his tone. He had messed up and he knew that. Moving carefully, he held his hand out to you in a silent plea to take it. Feeling like there was no other choice, you let him pull you up to your feet and into his office. Daring to look at his face, you didn’t see anger or any dangerous threat that you feared for your eavesdropping. You saw remorse and sympathy. He led you towards the fireplace where there were two large armchairs facing each other with a side table full of half-read books. He motioned you to sit before he turned back to Jackson. He took out his phone and sent a quick message. Within a moment, Yeonjun appeared in the door. “That’s enough, Jackson. Thank you for your help. But I need to talk to Y/N. Yeonjun will take you back where he found you. You know the drill.”

            “Wow, fastest visit ever. Am I at least getting paid?” Namjoon shot him a look that made him jump and scurry over to the door. “Don’t look so sad, sweetheart. I’m sure he isn’t going to kill you. Let me know if you want to take me up on my offer.”

            Yeonjun grabbed Jackson by the collar and dragged him out, shutting the door behind him, leaving you alone with Namjoon and the crackling fire. You thought back to when he had saved you when Choi had you cornered in the hospital hall, how good natured he had been with you, how he had been so open with you before he even knew anything more about you. He had been the one pushing for you to trust them and be comfortable with them. He had wanted you to come to the Magic Shop, was planning on telling you before he got busy. But was it all a ruse to get you to follow along? A handkerchief was pushed into your hands and Joon took a seat in the opposite armchair.

            “Y/N, I’m sorry you heard that.” He was sorry? Was he going to reprimand you for eavesdropping? Or tell you that all this was a farce that he was going to drop and forget this life debt he kept pushing? “I was hoping to have talked to him before you ever got here. Just for some extra assurance before we moved forward. I didn’t want you to ever hear that. Jackson can say things harsher than he means. I asked him to do a more detailed background check than I had already done, just to ensure I had all the facts.” He flinched when your breath hitch as more tears fell. He started to reach out his hand to try and comfort you but thought better of it. “I promise, I didn’t mean anything by it. I just needed to be completely sure that we were all going to be safe.”

            “I wouldn’t have hurt any of you. I can barely handle myself, let alone do anything to you all,” you cried. “Why would I put myself in this situation? I tried to get away from all of this but you kept me here. I would have told you all of that stuff. It’s all I know about myself since the accident. I have nothing to hide from anyone. I promise I have only told you the truth.”

            “I know you have. I’m sure you would have told me everything freely. I fucked up. I can’t say I’m sorry enough.”

            “Was he right? Are you going to kill me? Because I seem like a made-up person? Because I don’t have a past?”

            “No!” Namjoon rose from his seat and knelt down in front of you, finding your eyes and begging for your attention. “I would never do that. I promised to protect you. And I would do that whether you owed us a life debt or not. This life I’ve been living for the past twelve years has made me question so much about people. I’ve been lied to so many times that it fucks up your mind. Bangtan is my family and it’s my responsibility to protect them. When I met you, I instantly felt like I could trust you. I could see that you were a good person. But we had been fooled by someone we thought we could instantly trust before and I got nervous. But the more we spent with you, I knew it was different. But there was this little part of me that still worried. So, I looked into you after that first day. That’s why I introduced us as Bangtan to you. The others agreed because they saw what I saw in you. We've all been jaded by this life but something in you broke through all of our hesitations. We all think you are a good person and that you wouldn’t do anything to hurt us. Once we got you to see what we really were, I thought this would be easier on all fronts.”

            “You asked me to trust you but you couldn’t do the same for me?”

            “I know. It’s been so long since I could really trust someone. Look at Jackson. Okay, bad example. But I’ve known Jackson almost as long as I’ve known the others. But I still need to keep him at arm’s length or watch what I say around him. It’s different with you. I want to trust you, I do. I just needed to be extra sure that I was doing the right thing. I truly mean that.”

            You sat in silence for a long while as your breath evened out and your tears ceased. You could understand his hesitation. How could he be sure that you weren’t lying? It made sense, but hearing Jackson’s words, imagining that’s how they saw you, it was hard. But you had been so back and forth with their trust, too.

            “I really wish we could just start over.”

 “What do you want to know?” You took a deep breath and leaned back into the armchair. “What else do you need to hear? You want to be sure? Ask away. I only know so much. You guys have asked me to trust you and you told me things that would be helpful. I will try to do the same so we can share a common ground. Maybe one day I’ll know more and I can tell you more. But I can tell you what I can.”

            “It’s fine, Y/N. You don’t need to do that. I trust you.” He stood up and moved towards his desk. But you grabbed his hand, steeling yourself to open up as much as you could. He could sense your determination and returned to the armchair. “Just tell me whatever you’re comfortable with.”

            “I never really talk about this. It’s hard to talk about. But I can confirm that what Jackson said was all true. It’s actually pretty much all I know for myself. My first actual memory is waking up in a small hospital room in so much pain. There was a man sitting next to me that I didn’t remember. He was my friend, he showed me pictures of us at school. His name was Daniel. I don’t know his last name, I never asked or remembered it. He’s the one who told me about the accident. My father’s car was hit from the side and flipped. He didn’t make it. Daniel spent weeks by my side as I recovered. Dr. Sung was this older doctor who watched over me and helped me recover. Once I was moved to his rehab, Dr. Sung prescribed me all these different treatments but my memories never came back. Daniel brought me my old schoolwork, my old journals, anything that could help me find myself. But there wasn’t much. Jackson said something about us moving a lot. After a year, I could recall little things about places I believe I lived. But there was never anything concrete. No friends or family reached out. Daniel told me that it was just me and dad. He had never heard us talk about anyone else. I guess we didn’t stay long in places. After I was released from the rehab, Daniel and I moved into this small apartment that was far away from everything. The rehab set it up to help me adjust to the world. But I was like a zombie, depressed, broken. After six months, I started trying to get better, start over. Daniel and I started dating, I found a job that was walking distance from my place. All my medical training came back over time. Just not anything else. And that was my life for almost two years. But, almost five months ago, Daniel and I split up and I came to Central to get away from all the unpleasantness. I’d prefer not to go into that if that’s alright. We weren’t good together anymore. Since I’ve been away, I’ve started remembering little flashes of things that don’t make a lot of sense. Amber thinks it’s because I’m away from the trauma. I don’t even know if I want to remember anymore. But if I remember anything more, I promise I’ll tell you once I figure it all out.”

            Namjoon reached out and took your hand. “It’s okay. Thank you for sharing that with me. I promise to be more upfront about any questions I have. I trust you.”

            “I trust you, too.”

#bts fic #bts mafia au #bts imagines #bts smut #bts fanfic #bemylightfanfic #be my light fic #be my light #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #yoongi x reader #bts x reader #poly ot7 #ot7 x yn #ot7 x reader #long reads #really long post #bangtan sonyeondan #jackson wang

[gimmethatagustd]

Hi Jaiiii 💕💕 So I wasn't going to send a spooky drabble request since I'm usually super bad at coming up with ideas and you're already writing my one and only wish - weird fairy outfit Jungkook - but theeeen something came over me and I may have made a moodboard...

To me this is giving siren! jimin x human! taehyung but you can totally take whatever element that inspires you from it and do your own thing!! Fluff, smut, angst, you know I'm always open to reading anything from you, so go wild. I hope this gives you something to work with because I had fun making it! Love youuu 💞💞💞

the wind speaks | kth + pjm

Something's living under the dock at the Kim family's beach house.

○ Pairing: Human!Taehyung x Siren!Jimin

○ Rating: Mature/18+

○ Genre: Supernatural, "friends" to "lovers", angst, yandere

○ 2 / 100 Drabble Challenge (Mermaid)

○ Word Count: 2,313

○ Warnings: Emotional manipulation, Jimin is supernaturally alluring so that makes the whole thing very questionable, potential drowning and major character death? perhaps? 👀 it's an ambiguous ending so who knows!

○ Notes: Hi Ivi bby, I hope you didn't think I forgot about your AMAZING moodboard 🥹 I really need to commission you to make all my moodboards for me cuz I'm seriously obsessed with this one. It gave me so many ideas and it fit perfectly with my 100 Drabble Challenge. I hope you like what I've come up with, even tho it's a lil bit intense jhskjdfs 💜 ily

○ Post Date: January 4, 2024

○ Masterlist | Send me ur thots

○ What was Jai listening to? A spooky siren Spotify playlist

“Taehyung-ah! You have two hours before dinner, okay?” 

“Yes, eomma!” 

“Don’t make me have to come find you!” 

“Yes, eomma!” Taehyung calls out before closing the sliding glass door to their deck. 

The Kim family beach house sits just behind the sand dunes separating the beach from the homes lining the streets of their quiet town. The homes are nothing special, just boxy buildings with large windows built on high foundations to protect from flooding. The residents’ real treasures are boats, and the Kim dock is where Taehyung heads. 

Taehyung’s fluffy hair whips in the cool autumn wind during his trek through the cleared walkway between the dunes leading to the beach. Reaching the sand, the toes of his boots darken as he trudges through it. All morning, it rained, making the sand clump like wet dirt. Slimy seaweed and other debris cake the shoreline, so Taehyung carefully walks along the beach. 

The Kim dock isn’t anything fancy. Taehyung’s father built it himself out of wood he cut, sanded, and treated with his bare hands years ago. They keep their small fishing boat anchored to it – Singularity, named by Taehyung. He didn't know what to say when his parents asked him what it meant. He couldn’t outright admit that the word came to him in whispers in the wind when he sat at the edge of the dock, feet kicking in the air above the water. Taehyung has told one too many stories in the past; his parents are tired of hearing about his conversations with the wind. They said he would grow out of it, but Taehyung is freshly twenty, no longer a child, yet the wind still speaks. 

It’s cold without the sun to chase away the rain clouds. Taehyung zips his windbreaker up to the base of his throat and crouches at the edge of the dock to peer out at the ocean. The water is clouded from the rain kicking up the sandy floor.

“Hi,” Taehyung speaks to the wind and hopes it remembers. 

He left his phone at home, so he has no way of knowing how long he waits. The dock is rain-soaked, but his thighs burn from crouching. He opts for kneeling and shivers when his jeans absorb water at the knees.

“My Tae?” 

“Yes!” Taehyung perks up, eyes searching the horizon where the gray sky meets the murky ocean waters. He never sees anything; it’s just the wind. He looks anyway. 

“Where have you been, my Tae?” The wind sounds disappointed, and guilt makes Taehyung shrink further into his jacket like a frightened animal backed into a corner. 

“I’m sorry. I go to college now,” Taehyung admits sheepishly, “Far from here, so I can only visit during school breaks.” 

Waves lap at the legs of the dock. Sometimes, Taehyung thinks he sees things in the water, shadows bigger than the fish he catches off the dock in the summers. His father insists that the water is too shallow for large fish like sharks, but Taehyung doesn’t believe him. 

“I miss my Tae when he isn’t around…” 

Is it possible for a voice to be addicting? Taehyung swears the wind’s voice calms him. It’s silvery and alluring, a lullaby he could find himself falling into. He imagines himself falling asleep on a note, riding the soundwaves of the wind’s voice, ringing pure and cutting through the splash of waves meeting the dock. Sometimes, he wishes the wind would sing to him, knowing it would be a kind of heaven on earth if it did. 

“I miss you, too. It’s hard making new friends. I can’t just talk to them about anything like I can with you.” He closes his eyes and feels the wind kiss each eyelid.

“You are my only friend,” the wind whispers, sounding so close that Taehyung thinks he can feel the wind swirl against the side of his face. 

The air smells stronger now, a mixture of saltwater and petrichor. A cold front must be approaching. Taehyung worries it may rain again, but he doesn’t open his eyes to check. Something tells him not to, that it’s safer if he keeps them closed, though he doesn’t know why he’d need to be kept safe. Safe from what? The wind? 

“Open your eyes, Taehyung,” the wind whispers softly, alluring, a temptation so sweet that Taehyung feels himself falling into it, “See me.” 

“I’m scared,” Taehyung whimpers with a shiver. He tucks his hands between his thighs and holds his breath when he feels something caress his jaw, a light pressure like an index finger trailing from his earlobe to his chin. 

“Why are you scared? I love you, my Tae.” The light touch sweeps back along his jaw and then trails down Taehyung’s throat until the collar of his jacket stops it. His wind loves him. “I would never hurt you. Now open your eyes.” 

Cold hands gently cradle Taehyung’s face, palms to his cheeks. The hands are soft, slightly damp, and very much real. The wind can’t have hands, he tells himself. The wind is just wind. Taehyung’s stomach churns, tumbling like it does when his father’s boat hits a patch of rocky waves, sending fish flopping onto the bed of the boat and making Taehyung’s boots slide against the aluminum. 

With his heart fluttering like a caged hummingbird, Taehyung slowly opens his eyes. 

The wind is not air, but a young man with eyes a murky green like the sea who stares at Taehyung with parted glossy lips. Taehyung catches a glimpse of sharpened teeth behind those luscious lips, but he can’t focus on only one thing when there is so much of the man to take in. His shockingly white hair is messily braided with strips of seaweed and strings of pink pearls and draped over his shoulder – his naked shoulder – and Taehyung realizes the man is shirtless. Little jewels, pearls, and other shimmery gems decorate the man’s chest, outlining his sides until they reach his waist – covered in green scales that gleam despite the lack of sun. Taehyung inhales sharply when his eyes finally land on the sparkly fishtail draped over the side of the dock. 

“I–” Panic swells in Taehyung’s chest. He gasps as though he’s been pulled underwater, the moisture in the air like the ocean in his lungs. “Who, who are you?”

“I am your wind, Taehyung,” the man says with a small smile. When he slides one hand up Taehyung’s face to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, he makes a sound like a cat purring. “But in the water, I am called Jimin.” 

“Jimin,” Taehyung whispers. Jimin. It is such a soft name; Taehyung likes how his lips pucker when he says it. “Why didn’t you ever tell me your name? Why didn’t you show yourself to me?” 

Jimin gives Taehyung a sad smile. “I was scared, too.” 

Taehyung’s heart still beats frantically in his chest, but he calms down as Jimin plays with his hair, caressing and running his fingers through the strands. Jimin calls out Taehyung’s name, whispering it like a secret only they know, “My Tae, my sweet Tae, my precious Taehyungie, so happy to finally touch you.” 

Taehyung finds himself closing his eyes and leaning into Jimin’s touch, letting out a quiet whimper when Jimin lightly scratches his scalp. Hypnotizing – the word bubbles up to the surface of Taehyung’s mind, his thoughts murky like the water beneath the dock. The wind, Jimin, is hypnotizing. 

“Why?” Taehyung asks without explanation, but Jimin knows everything. 

“I want to keep you.” 

“Hmm?” Taehyung lifts his head, realizing he has rested it on Jimin’s shoulder. It’s comfortable in Jimin’s embrace, even though Taehyung’s pants are thoroughly soaked from rain and ocean water, and Jimin’s scales feel strange under his fingers when he skips them along Jimin’s waist. 

“I want to keep you, my Tae. I can’t let you go.” 

“Keep me where?” Taehyung asks with glossy round eyes. He points to the waves lapping at the dock. “In there?” 

Jimin licks his lips, and Taehyung feels his stomach churn and dip like the climax of a rollercoaster or a freefall from a plane. 

“Yes.” Jimin runs his thumb along the apple of Taehyung’s cheek. His touch is just as soothing as it is terrifying; Taehyung can’t comprehend how that is. “Will you come with me?” 

Taehyung can’t. He can’t survive in the ocean; doesn’t his wind know that? 

But there’s still the pull. The source of it sinks lower until it’s tugging at Taehyung’s belly, making him heat up despite the temperature quickly dropping around them. It’s almost night; he’s unsure if he has already missed dinner or if his mother is searching for him. Looking over his shoulder, he sees nothing– hears nothing but the chirp of gulls and the crash of waves. 

“Taehyung.” 

Jimin’s fingers curl around Taehyung’s chin and force Taehyung to face him again. The color of his eyes seems to have darkened with the sky, a light gray now when it was once green. 

Taehyung’s name sounds so pretty, coming from Jimin’s pillowy lips, lips glossy and pink like the pearls in his hair, and the gems decorating his body. 

Taehyung feels the pull, and he wonders if it’s Jimin giving him sealegs, even though they’re both sitting down. Something is terrifying about his beauty, something uncanny, like an android that looks a little too real, or the feeling you get when you realize a photograph is actually a painting – still beautiful but deceptive. There’s something scary about Jimin that Taehyung can’t fully understand before it slips through his fingers like sand. 

Taehyung wants to kiss him. 

“I want to kiss you,” he says, not knowing why he admits it out loud. He can’t stop himself from leaning into Jimin when he pulls Taehyung against him. 

“My sweet Tae,” Jimin murmurs into Taehyung’s mouth. 

Jimin’s tongue is slippery and tastes like saltwater, but it’s warm and deft as it flicks against Taehyung’s lips and slithers along Taehyung’s tongue. His hands tangle in Taehyung’s hair, yanking his head to the side to deepen the kiss. It’s fast and desperate, Taehyung moaning and gasping into Jimin and Jimin taking it with bites to Taehyung’s lips and groans of his own. Taehyung has never been kissed like this, held so gently but ravaged. His lungs burn as he drowns in his wind. 

Taehyung groans when Jimin releases his mouth to suck on his neck, just above his jacket’s collar. Taehyung can do nothing but let Jimin pull his head back, and he watches the stars come into view when he’s laid flat on his back. Water soaks his hair, making the strands turn black, and Taehyung’s body shivers from the cold. Only his torso is relatively dry. 

“Jimin,” Taehyung calls out, voice gravelly, nearly stuck in the back of his throat. “I can’t.” 

I can’t survive in the ocean, he thinks, and can’t speak because Jimin suddenly straddles his thighs. 

“Stay with me, Taehyung,” Jimin pleads, but it’s spoken with an authority Taehyung can’t imagine disobeying.

“Your legs,” Taehyung chokes and tries to push himself up on his elbows. 

Gone is Jimin’s elegant tail. He has legs now, pretty legs with a smattering of green scales at his hips and along his calves. Jimin grips Taehyung’s hips with fingers that are greenish at the tips. His nails are sharpened into points and dig into his skin, even through his jacket.

“If you will not stay with me, let me give my Tae a gift,” Jimin whispers, his eyes sparkling like the ocean under the moonlight. 

Taehyung nods quickly and squirms beneath him. “Something to remember you until I can visit again?”

Jimin licks his lips, eyes boring into Taehyung’s, and Taehyung gets another glimpse of sharp teeth. He rakes his nails down Taehyung’s body, from his hips to the tops of his thighs. Taehyung hears the denim rip and fray, but Jimin’s nails don’t break his skin. 

“You’ll never forget me, my Tae.” 

“Of course not,” Taehyung pants with a heaving chest. He feels wild, an animal taunted by the rattle of his ribs when Jimin suddenly shakes him. 

“Your gift,” Jimin whispers as he leans forward, walking his green-tipped fingers up Taehyung’s torso until they’re hooked around his shoulders. 

“My gift…” 

Taehyung watches Jimin’s eyes change, shifting from gray to bright white, and his pupils turn into pinpoints. 

“My heart is pierced by Cupid; I disdain all glittering gold,” Jimin sings softly as he yanks Taehyung into a sitting position and straddles his lap, “There is nothing can console me, but my jolly sailor bold.” 

The song sounds familiar, but Taehyung doesn’t know why. The memory sits on the tip of his tongue and dances to the haunting tune of Jimin’s cadence, just out of Taehyung’s grasp. He finds that it doesn’t matter – not the memory, nor anything else. 

“His hair, it hangs in ringlets, his eyes as black as coal. My happiness attend him wherever he may go.” 

Taehyung’s head lolls to the side. He no longer holds it up, just lets Jimin’s warm palms squeeze his cheeks to keep him upright. He goes where Jimin moves him, tips his head backward when Jimin wants to stare into his eyes. 

“From Tower Hill to Blackwall, I'll wander, weep, and moan, all for my jolly sailor, until he sails home.”

Jimin’s nails puncture Taehyung’s jacket. He hooks his fingers through the material as he wraps his legs around Taehyung’s waist. Before Taehyung has the chance to do anything but let out a startled gasp, Jimin falls backward into the water, taking Taehyung with him. 

There is no splash when their bodies slip past the ocean’s surface, only bubbles that pattern the otherwise still waters. The waves no longer lap against the Kim family’s dock. The wind no longer speaks. 

@jooniesxbby @taegeum

Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories. 

All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd​ - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading and commenting on them. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd & daddytaehyungie). Request an AO3 account here.

#taehyung x jimin #jimin angst #jimin fanfic #bts fanfic #taehyung fanfic #taehyung angst #bts angst #ivi~ #jai writes #gimmethatagustd #btscontentenjoyer #jai asks #100 drabble challenge #tws #vmin fanfic

[nogu-d-reamers]

A BIT OF LORE:HOW DOGDAY/1202 FEELS WITH...

Disclaimer: This list will not include Catnap, because he deserves his own lore section for describe this complicated relationship.

PICKY PIGGY: Picky or "Miss Piggy" as Dogday used to refer to her, was an experiment that was in charge of feeding the entire playcare; from home sweet home to the counselor's office. However because of Priya's "background"; The experimentation with Picky's mind ranged from forcing her memories to giving her terrible brainwashing; Therefore, the gluttonous personality of the character she embodied with the psychological discomfort of her person constantly fought. Dogday, being able to do little or nothing for her, was limited to placing limits on her when she had a food binge or reassuring her when she couldn't consume even a glass of water. and although it was a small gesture, both sides of Picky were grateful for that gesture from her leader, realizing that Dogday ate mostly nothing and noting her obvious repulsion towards the raw meat she hid and gave behind the scientists' backs. tuna sandwiches. other data: -Although she didn't have functional legs like Crafty or Dogday, she knew how to use her pig hooves to hold things and cook. -Bubba and she use some camouflage liquid bands; which prevents other experiments from recognizing them as adults and attacking -sometimes he jokes about sneaking unpleasant things into all the adults' food (ex. on Chinese food day he said "by the way, have you seen a dogday plushie? I saw him playing near the kitchen before turning on the shredder")

BOBBY BEARHUG:

Bobby/#1186 was what Dogday could consider a "right-paw bear" and a great friend he could count on from start to finish (even before he recognized that she was his friend Minerva). Dogday, aware of Bobby's deaf-mute and that with his paws it was difficult for him to communicate with the children, she acted as a translator so that the children understood what Bobby wanted to say; and in turn, she let Bobby know how loved she was by the playcare children. Other data: -before Dogday arrived at playcare, she was the children's favorite; Although she always maintained a high position in popularity among the little ones in playcare because she was the closest maternal figure to her. -she communicated through morse code (using footprints and scratches) -Dogday realized that she was Minerva because she used a typical Colombian swear word with Hoppy that Dogday (when she was Libby) frequently heard to Minnie when she got angry. -No. Dogday won't say what the swear word is.

Kickin Chicken: Kickin/#1192 was the critter who was most emotionally dependent on Dogday; Well, the person behind the chicken, Carlo Buggatti, who was a normal teenager whose only connection with PP.Co was that his older brother worked there, ended up transformed into that because in an attempt to find his brother he learned something he shouldn't have. , and the playtime scientists preferred to take advantage of it before feeding it to Boxy Boo. As soon as he realized that Dogday could remember and the gas had no effect on him, he told him his entire story at once and begged that it didn't matter if he forgot who he was, that DD wouldn't do it and call him that when no adult was watching him. Dogday accepted the heavy task and helped in everything he could so that he would not be alone and cope a little better with the terrible situation. Other data: - the reason they both have a headband in the illustration is because Kickin, being the only biped, often hit his head; and Dogday, in his desire to ensure that he is not alone, learned to do it even if he ends up equally beaten. -In the brainwashing he underwent he forgot many things, except what he looked like from the outside; In an attempt to compensate for all the support that Dogday gave her, she told her things about the outside that even Dogday when she was human did not know, such as; about what a plane trip was like or that he was a "mate."

Hoppy Hotscotch:

Unlike the character in the series, Hoppy/#1192 was entirely problematic; She was aggressive with the newly arrived children and isolated those she considered weaker. She also hated the fact that an inferior experiment (in the sense of being of a later number than hers) like Dogday wanted to give her orders; Therefore, every time she could, she was aggressive with the dog and if she could find a way for her to end up punished, she did so. There even came a point where Dogday exhausted all of her methods of reasoning with her. Other data: -thanks to Hoppy's terrible character and her horrible way of acting; They made Hoppy's character one of the most hated in playcare. -ironically she was the one who best pretended to tolerate adults. -She was the only critter who partially joined the happy day plan just to annoy the dog, but when she realized that it wasn't a raid, and instead it was a massacre, she tried to fix things… but now It was late when he wanted to do it. -unlike canon (where Hoppy is on the autism spectrum), Margarette is not on the spectrum; She is just a teenager with a horrible character as a result of circumstances.

Craftycorn:

Craft/#1194 started out having a distant character and only focusing on the only thing that kept him sane which was making crafts, and Dogday instead of breaking the wall of craftycorn followed his way of doing things to get closer (and describing it as " feeling a deyabu about it"); He was totally aware that not everyone interacts in the same way, so he started trying to make crafts even though they looked bad on him. Over time he became one of the most trusted friends the unicorn had, giving that love and respect through gifts given by him. Other data: -Like Bobby, Dogday recognized his friend Kennichi through language; in his case he in an outburst of anger in Japanese. -It was known that unlike Dogday, Craft hated being referred to as the character assigned to him, either as crafty (that's why they called him Craft) or as a girl. -However, in a Dogday joke he made to exchange voice boxes he told him "Wasurete, I prefer to sound like a squeaky toy than to sound like the doctor"

Bubba Bubbaphant:

More than being a friendly figure; Bubba / #1187 or "Mr. Bubbaphant" was a guide for Dogday, not only because he was one of the oldest critters; He is the only one who, due to his function, his adult faculties remained as intact as possible. He was always there when Dogday needed guidance when he arrived, and when he needed advice once he served as leader (although he often struggled to keep up with Bubba's detailed explanations). His work as a teacher was greatly displaced when the Delight sisters arrived at school, so Dogday motivated him to be a support for the students who could not keep up with the new teachers (who were extremely relentless and did not conceive the idea that Not everyone learns at the same rate; which is why they were very hard on the poorest students). other data: -While he is conscious enough to remember many things about his human life, he does not remember being Horatio Buggatti. -Dogday accidentally commented that when speaking Spanish he had an accent similar to Kickin. -Like Picky, he wears a band of liquid camouflage to avoid detection as an adult.

#poppy playtime #smiling critters #poppy playtime au #dogday #lilibeth faith #poppy playtime dogday #catnap #libby's headcannon #Liby's timeline AU

[jvngkook97]

(Tae)ke Me On

synopsis; where taehyung is no stranger to seducing tourists and reader is a stranger to flirty photographers – but not one night stands. when in France, do as the French do, no?

pairing; photographer!taehyung x tourist!female!reader

genre; angst, fluff, humor, smut, Paris au, photographer au, tourist au

warnings; some minor manipulation in the form of jealousy, cursing, dancing with two left feet, ice cream dates and indirect kisses, museum dates and art appreciation, the realization that moments are fleeting and so are feelings, explicit sexual content, dirty talk in French, soft and dominant taehyung, equally as soft and dominant reader, overstimulation, determination, bliss, cold sheets, warm hearts and lingering memories

rating; 21+ MINORS DNI

w/c; 5,507

a/n; taehyung just looks so pretty in Paris that I had to write something about it. this is loooong overdue and I’m so sorry but writer’s block is real y’all. be sure to give your fav authors some love cause it can be hard. don’t be a silent reader! <3 feedback is always appreciated and helps to keep this writer motivated to put out more content – like this! all the love, always.

networks; @btshoneyhive, @thebtswritersclub, @kflixnet

Paris, France — the proclaimed Ville d'Amour.

To you, it was a time well needed to get away from the stress of reality. The dead-end job, the shitty ex-boyfriend, the dull daily routine of life that was in desperate need of change.

To him, you were just another carefree, albeit gorgeous, tourist who saw things through rose-colored glasses.

And he couldn’t wait to crack them.

The air felt crisp, cold, and clear.

The skies were a effervescent shade of blue, with pillowy clouds scattered about. The hustle and bustle of tourists and residents around you served as a raucous kind of lullaby as you closed your eyes and savored all that this city had to offer - not noticing the photographer who saw you through his lens at a short distance away.

He pretended to be taking photos of the flowers that bloomed behind you, the various colors only enhancing the beauty that was naturally you. He inched ever so closer, just enough to angle his body in a way to capture the peaceful expression on your face within his lens crosshairs.

It was one lone click, followed by the sound of a shutter closing and opening on a camera that had your eyes blinking themselves open. For a second, you saw nothing as your eyesight once again needed time to focus on the light surrounding you instead of the dim darkness that was your eyelids.

When the blurry settled, and the saturation and vibrancy of the scenery around you sharpened, did you fixate your wondering gaze to the male who looked at you, peaking his head slightly above the frame of his camera. A hint of a dimple could be seen, as well as his boxy, closed mouth smile.

“J’adore ton sourire.”

{“I love your smile.”}

The once serene look on your face turned to one of shyness, your smile still present - bigger, but demeanor shrinking in on itself. You had no clue what he spoke, but the gentle way his eyes shined at you had your body yearning for more from the mystery male. He adored the way your cheeks let off a cherry hue, and could only daydream how they would look along with your skin as your body writhed with pleasure underneath him. Or, if he had a choice, above him.

Only one way to find out.

“Je peux vous offrir un verre?”

{“Can I buy you a drink?”}

You said the one word you knew in French, having memorized quite a few social phrases before coming, so you knew what he asked. Though forward, you welcomed the thrill — the adventure — as a foreigner.

“Oui.”

{“Yes.”}

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*

Monday

You threw your head back in laughter as he dipped your now bent over figure gracefully, your arm secured around his neck and his at the curve of your back. When he pulled you back in, your chest was flush against his. In your liquor induced haze, you missed the way his eyes flashed with a hidden glint to them, the seemingly permanent smile on his face never faltering.

“I thought you said you were a bad dancer?” He eyed you dubiously, and you let out a snort of laughter, hand raising to cover your nostrils and mouth with wide eyes.

He let out a boisterous laugh and gently tugged your hand away from your face, the glint gone, but replaced with a now playful and mischievous air. You opted to fan your face instead, the humidity of the small pub and humility of your rather unladylike action taking a toll on your emotions and body respectively.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.”

His deep, baritone, voice filled your mind as he encompassed you into a tight hug, his mouth outlining the shell of your ear. This dude loved touching in any way, shape, or form. You chalked it up to his lineage, his facial features resembled that of Asian descent and yet his personality and mannerisms screamed French. To you, it was a dangerous duo, but you couldn’t get enough.

When he told you that he spoke three different languages, including yours, your eyes nearly bulged out of your head. You couldn’t even begin to fathom how one could know so many, but the prospect of him teaching you a different language filled you with excitement, a promise he said he would own up to when you agreed to see each other again after today.

“We should call it a night, yeah?”

Your legs felt like noodles, your head was fuzzy, and images were slightly blurred. It wasn’t until you leaned your full body weight against him, did you come to the realization that you were beyond tired and still jet lagged. His hands stabilized your wobbly figure with a firm grip on your waist.

Blowing out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, you replied.

“Yeah–I should head back to my hotel.”

“Would you like me to get you a cab?”

“Please.”

His hand hovered on the small of your back as you slowly made your way to the front of the club. The immediate relief you felt as you stepped onto the sidewalk had you tilting your head up to the now night sky, a multitude of stars twinkling alongside the crescent moon.

A drunken night goer collided into you, sending your already unstable self backwards into the awaiting arms of your savior. His arms encased your torso with a vice grip, his own heels digging into the cracked concrete in order to be sure that he didn’t go falling himself. He threw a curse word that went unheard at the inebriated back of the mystery person – and even though you knew it was a bad word, the way it sounded in French as he shouted it over your head had your body warming with a mix of emotions.

Majority of you was entirely grateful for his presence, a good chunk of you was beyond happy with the generous amount of time you were able to spend with him where he showed you both popular and hole in the wall attractions. He essentially played the part of your personal tour guide with how rich with knowledge he was of the history of Paris.

You really lucked out.

“Thank you.”

He was still mumbling curse words under his breath, staring daggers into the direction he watched the night stroller head in until he was gone. It was your own barely audible mumble of gratitude that had him awkwardly maneuvering his face at a weird angle to see the front of yours. His brows pulled together in confusion.

“Why are you thanking me?”

“For–,” you struggled to come up with words, the list of many things you were thankful for being long in itself that you opted for the shorter and simpler route. “–everything?”

It ended up coming out as more of a question at the end than a confident declaration, and it had you inwardly cringing with just how out of touch you were with flirting since your ex walked out of your life.

“You’re wel–,” his head perked up as he fixated at something over your shoulder. Before you could utter another syllable, he put two fingers in his mouth and blew a sharp whistle followed by waving the same hand animatedly back and forth.

The squealing of tires is all you heard before a yellow taxi cab slowed to a stop in front of you two. Keeping an arm around your waistline, he stepped one foot off the sidewalk to open the car door for you. With a gentle smile and push at your lower back, you stepped off the sidewalk yourself. His hand then grabbed yours to stabilize your movements so you could swiftly, and ungracefully, plop your butt onto the clothed back seat.

Making sure you were fully inside, he then carefully shut the door for you. You clumsily went to roll down the window and he chuckled in amusement at your hasty movement. Once it was halfway down, did you poke your head out of the window to ask him a question.

“Kim Taehyung.”

Your brows rose and your mouth was left open in an ‘o’ shape as you watched his mouth form the words as if in slow motion. How did he know?

“Y—,” again, you were cut off by his psychic abilities.

“My number is on the napkin I slipped inside your coat pocket. Call me when you wake up and I can give you a more in depth tour of the sights.”

His boxy smile, accompanied by the confident yet suave wink he sent your way as the driver pulled away from the curb had your heart racing in anticipation of the day to come. A smile of your own lit up your face, making his own become broader. The same smile turning into one of confusion as a slender, manicured hand slid its way around his shoulders and a mystery woman kissed his cheek.

He missed the way your face dropped into one of morose when he pivoted on his heel to greet the woman with a kiss on each of her cheeks. You pulled your head back into the cab, his attention on you long gone as you sulked in that taxi cab the rest of the way to the hotel. The only comfort you had was the lightweight napkin that you fished out of your coat pocket, and – true to his words – had his number written down on it with a ‘call me’ elegantly written in red ink.

It was the French thing to do, you rationalized. They could just be friends. He seemed surprised to see her, therefore he had no idea she would be there. Yeah, you thought with a sullen nod, it was a spontaneous meeting. That must be it.

Another lingering thought crossed your mind as you reread the scrawl.

He didn’t even know your name.

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*

Tuesday

“Y/N Y/L/N”.

The flat of his tongue was licking the side of the waffle cone that housed his now dripping ice cream as he hummed in acknowledgement. You could feel a drip of your own strawberry ice cream land on your thumb and you made quick work in licking it away as well.

“Beau prénom comme toi.”

“Something–,” you wracked your brain over the common words he’s already taught you. “Beautiful?”

He nodded, smiling at you encouragingly, and gestured at you with his ice cream to continue. Nibbling on the waffle cone, you tested the thoughts in your head out loud.

“Beautiful name?”

His body rose in front of your seated position on the large fountain you were both resting at as he began clapping for you loudly and exuberantly. In the process he ended up with his remaining ice cream on the floor. You grinned at him shyly, mockingly bowing in turn. A few giggles escaped your lips at the fallen frozen treat.

“Like you.”

He sat back down next to you as he said this. It was with such confidence that you wondered if he uses the same tactics with other foreign girls only in town for a week – or, and you highly doubted this – if you were considered special. You’d like to think the latter, but your gut told you it wasn’t true.

A finger poked the crease lines that began forming on your forehead in between your eyes. Attempting to look at the invading digit, had your eyes crossing comically in a way that had Taehyung leaning into your face with a coy smile.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Swatting the finger away, you rolled your eyes at him. His mouth began to open, and you had no doubt that he was about to spew some other flirtatious comment your way. Deciding your poor, little, hopeless romantic heart couldn’t take anymore feigned interest, you shove the remainder of your own ice cream into his mouth. His eyes grew wide, as he opened his mouth more to accommodate the sugary, strawberry goodness with a surprised grunt.

He brought up a hand to clamp around the waffle cone, eating half of it in one bite that would’ve taken you a good minute to finish yourself. Swallowing, he gave you a smirk with narrowed eyes.

“Do you know that we just indirectly kissed?”

“You’re insufferable, do you know that?”

All he did was laugh in glee at your flustered face.

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*

Wednesday

You both began sprinting for the nearest awning cover you two could find, the cold and relentless rain having no qualms with drenching your shivering forms otherwise. The rain caused several curls to appear that plastered to Taehyung’s forehead and it made him look even more irresistible than he already was. But you? You probably looked more like a drowned raccoon, positive that your eyeliner and mascara were smeared when you made the mistake of wiping water from your eyes.

“Who was that woman?”

You hoped you came off as more nonchalant and curious, rather than accusatory. Though, now, you figured – was as good a time as any to ask the loaded question that will either quench your doubts or fuel them. It didn’t look like the rain was going to let up anytime soon, and conversation was the perfect distraction.

His eyes looked at you, but his body stayed forward. You mimicked his pose, doing your best not be stiff as you waited for his response. His lip quirked up, but he repressed the smirk that wanted to show. He was selfishly wondering when you would bring it up or if you even witnessed the planned exhange. Not that you needed to know that part.

“A friend that’s also in town for the week.”

You resisted the urge to eye roll. Friend could’ve meant anything and gave you nothing in terms of feeling assured you had no current competition of your male companion’s company for the remainder of the week.

He looked down at his watch with pinched brows, and what seemed to be actual concern on his face. He sucked his lip between his teeth and made a sound of disappointment. This made you turn towards him with your own worry lines adorning your face.

“What’s wrong?”

“I was actually supposed to meet her not too long after our stroll ended, but this weather is going to make me have to postpone our date.”

It’s a good thing his attention was still focused heavily on his watch, the resound sigh escaping his lips shortly after his wounding ending statement – so he was able to miss the hurt that crossed your features at his words, it having been hidden by once again returning to your fixed position, your hair securely shielding your face from him.

“I’m sorry our stroll ended up causing you to miss your date.”

A loud crack of perfectly timed thunder was able to conceal the forceful tone you used in reiterating the dreaded ‘date’ word, leaving him none the wiser to your inner turmoil. Or, so you believed.

He coughed into his hand to cover up the smile that wanted to form. It was always the same with Americans, they get jealous so easily. If only you knew that the date wasn’t really a date and it was with his guy friend and not the woman you saw previously — but, again — you didn’t need to know that. This was far more amusing to him, though it only confirmed his suspicions more on you taking a liking to him.

Good. Very good. The week was halfway done already and you two have yet to share a kiss, let alone get anywhere close to his end goal with you, but it was all apart of his plan.

And his plans never fail.

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*

Thursday

You could not believe what your eyes were seeing.

Taehyung stood off to the side, not too far from you, but enough room to give you your own space as your eyes took in the sight of what was in front of you. Him having seen it countless times, he just tilts his head in order to get a better view of the awestruck expression on your face rather than the infamous painting.

The Mona Lisa.

Unbeknownst to him, a small smile erupts on his face while watching you, a common occurrence he’s been catching himself doing lately. Along with it, always came the damning butterflies that he didn’t know what to do with. Normally, he would only have a one track mind that hindered such thoughts, but alas – not when it came to you.

With you, he’s actually rejected other female’s company. Not an ounce of regret could be felt when doing so and he wondered when your supposed friendship might’ve crossed the line to something more. Something deeper. If he didn’t live in this city for so long he would’ve hashed it up to the romantic aura that seemed to come with it as the perpetrator of his sudden affections for you.

What kind of black magic have you cast on him?

“–ello?”

He blinked out of his stupor to come face to face with your amused one. Your head was tilted, but the smirk on your face let him know that you had an inkling on what he was thinking of, if not for the way he was zoning out on you specifically held any hints.

You weren’t used to it. All the attention, all the touches, all the minuscule glances he would send your way thinking you had no clue – but you did.

And you had no clue what to do about it.

Or, rather, you did know what you wanted to do.

It was just a matter of how you could accomplish it.

You cautiously touched your fingers with his as you two walked to the next framed piece of artwork, and not too long after did you feel his own slide between yours and encase your small hand in his.

This was a start. But you only had one more night left in this city and it was time to make the most of it.

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*

Friday

Much like your first day here in Paris, you had the warmth of sun above the sky to caress your face, eyes squinting as you tried to zero in on the tip of the Eiffel Tower that stood tall in front of your minuscule, ant like body to those who looked down on you from the structure. Though, you know it wouldn’t last for long, the orange and purple hues were just on the horizon to signal the start of the evening.

His arm brushes up against yours as he stands next to you, mimicking your current position.

“Beautiful, is it not?”

“It truly is a sight to see. I can’t believe I’m looking at it in person.”

“Would you like to go to the top?”

You switch your focus to his, eyes widening in disbelief.

“Could we?”

His signature boxy smile appears.

“Let’s go.”

Due to modern technology of an elevator, it doesn’t take long for you both to make it to your destination in minutes. You step out and are instantly in awe at the dazzling sight before you that is Paris at night. The lights flicker sporadically, shadows in the form of cars and shapes of people filter through them continuously. It’s hard to believe you’re here right now. So much so, in fact, you need to ground yourself somehow.

Your hand flails at your side, looking for some sort of proof that you’re not dreaming and this is just an insanely vivid fever dream. A hand secures your wandering one in a firm, yet gentle grip. Slender fingers interlocking with yours has your heart in a frenzy. It just works to make the moment all the more surreal.

You can hear Taehyung let out a low chuckle.

“All you American’s seem to share the same reaction, you know? It’s cute.”

He might as well have been talking to a wall, that’s how much you were still enamored with the man made beauty around you. It’s true, if you were to take a gander at all the tourists around you, you would find the same wide eyed, dazed look.

The only difference between them and you was, well, him. Finally breaking yourself out of your stupor, your eyes shift to his that are already staring at you. You can feel the tension that’s slowly starting to build the longer you two stare. It’s exciting, it’s thrilling, it’s everything you were hoping for on this whirlwind of a trip.

Taehyung noticed the way your eyes seemed to somehow become even more dazed as you gazed at him, which is how he knew the moment had arrived.

It was time.

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*

Teeth clashed against teeth, tongues battled for dominance, clothes were strewn randomly on the floor as soon as you stepped foot into your hotel room. The curtains were only half drawn, letting the dark room be naturally illuminated by the moon’s beams that cast an almost magical glow onto the white bedding of your bed.

Said bedding just gets kicked off in the lust fueled dance of bodies, knowing the material would only hinder certain movements and cause more sweat to transpire as the night goes on.

Before you know it, he’s hovering over you, hair dangling in front of your face that semi shields his blown pupils as he locks eyes with yours, a question lingering in them. Your bare foot slides down his toned butt cheeks before your heel digs into the supple flesh of one cheek to bring his lower body closer to yours.

The one push alone causes the head of his bulbous, condom wrapped, throbbing member to bump into the hood of your clit as it slides up and down your wet folds with ease. The sensation causes a sharp inhale from you, that only gets let out when he pulls a throaty moan from your lips, inserting only the tip into your core. His forehead drops into the naval of your breasts as he watches his cock slip further into you, your own legs spreading to accommodate him more. If it wasn’t for the shaggy hair that blocked your view, you know you would be doing the same.

“Dieu, tu es si mouillé.”

{God, you’re so wet.}

“I have no idea what you just said, but fuck–,” he pulls out all the way, only to snap his hips against yours to sheath himself again. “–keep talking.”

There’s a mixture of what sounds like a grunt and laughter as he kisses the valley between your breasts. He complies, both the accent and the words you presume to be dirty, only spurs on the tight coil in your stomach that’s begging for release.

You let out a broken whimper, your back arching off the bed that Taehyung uses to his own advantage, securing one toned arm around your back to hold you up and switch positions. His back is now against the headboard as you straddle his waist, your hands gripping his shoulders and nails digging into the flesh as your body wracks with your first orgasm of the night.

His heels dig into the mattress to get a better angle as he pistons in and out of your dripping hole, his hot tongue latching onto one of your nipples that he accidentally bites when his own orgasm takes hold. Your immediate reaction is to grip his hair and yank his head back and off your nipple, but what you come to find has you parting your lips in a silent ‘o’.

Taehyung’s eyes are closed, face scrunched with both pain and pleasure, the action making him let out a gutteral, near animalistic moan. The lewd sight makes you feel powerful. His eyes are still closed when you decide to swivel your hips against his, making figure eights. Your pace is fast, one hand keeping a vice in his hair, the tips of your nails digging into his head, while your other hand clutches onto the top of the headboard for support.

Much too quick for his liking, his eyes burst open, his mouth mimicking yours with a silent moan, but you can feel his entire body tense as you work his second orgasm out of him. His eyes are pooling with unshed tears that pulls at your heartstrings, and you slow your brutal pace to a more sensual one as he rides out his orgasm. His body eventually relaxes, sagging back into the headboard.

Finally releasing the death grip on his hair, your own body comes to a full stop as you lean back against your hands on the bed to give yourself your own little break from the workout you just had.

“Comment es-tu réel?”

{How are you real?”}

He chuckled mirthlessly, head falling back to join his body in exhaustion, but his eyes are still locked with yours. All you do is smirk sinfully at him, not knowing at all what he just said, but having a feeling it has to do with your stellar performance.

His hands roam over your stomach, the tips of one hand hovering dangerously close to your exposed clit from the position your in. He sees when your lower body tightens, your hole fluttering around nothing. His now semi hard member slipped out for the most part when you chose to sit your butt back on the mattress between his legs instead, though due to his impressive length, the tip still stayed in.

Two fingers gently pry your folds open, your essence still dribbles from the prior stimulation down his cock that coats his fingers in seconds when he shifts to inserting two fingers up to the knuckle above his shaft, slowly scissoring you open and stretching you. Your head falls back against your shoulders, and you do your damndest not to close your legs out of sheer instinct to lock the fingers inside your pussy greedily.

You’ve never felt this full before, it was almost overwhelming. A quiet sob escapes your lips, that has you slapping a hand over your mouth. Your lower body shakes, as you refrain from moving against him, knowing your body is still tired and wouldn’t be able to handle the strenuous activity again. But god, did you want to cum so badly.

Please. Please. Please. Please.

“I got you, baby. I got you.”

You don’t realize that the mantra you thought was in your head, was actually being spoken out loud, mumbled behind your hand. Though, you can’t find it in yourself to care at the moment. Your only focus being on finding your own pleasure.

He brings his other hand up to rub lazy, but pressured circles on your engorged clit. Your body twitches at the sudden onslaught, and to further your building pleasure, Taehyung begins to minisculely move his hips in short movements.

Your legs begin to shake as the pressure once again builds, the coil tightening in you to the point of bursting at any second, yet you wanted to scream at the fact your orgasm was teetering on the edge of occurring, but not.

You hated being a girl sometimes, having to deal with the agony of your own body denying you an orgasm right away.

Taehyung began to grunt, his cock now fully hard, though he paid no mind, his only goal being to coax you to your high. His brows were scrunched, teeth digging into his bottom lip, sweaty curls plastered around his flushed face and neck. His hand was cramping, his legs were cramping, his arm was cramping, but he fought through it.

Sharp pants began to take hold of you, your chest heaving in a rhythmic pattern. The hand that was once over your mouth, now joins your other hand in clutching the bed sheets in a death grip and you stare up at the ceiling with watery eyes, a determined look on your face.

Throwing all caution to the wind, you finally begin swiveling your hips in time with his hand movements – the lewd, wet, squelching that resounded throughout the room surprisingly only doing the bare minimum amount in helping you.

There’s one factor you noticed that stopped.

Taehyung’s French. You needed to hear it.

“French.”

You grind out, eyes still honed in on the celiling. He lets out a grunt of confusion, not expecting you to talk, so your words fall on deaf ears. It nearly makes you growl when you say it again.

“French. Now.”

“Jouis pour moi. laissez-moi vous voir se dérouler. Christ. Tu es tellement belle putain.”

{Enjoy for me. Let me see you unfold. Christ. You are so fucking beautiful.”}

His voice is laced with a whiny undertone, and as if by magic, your orgasm explodes from within you. You sob in relief as your body falls backwards onto the bed, he chases your bodies movement to hover over you once again. He secures one arm around each of your legs as he lifts your butt off the bed to get a deeper angle to plow into your now dripping pussy at a break neck pace. Skin slapping against skin reverberates throughout the room.

“Holy fuck. Oh my god. Taehyung, please.”

Your hands are trying to push him off of you, the overstimulation making you see stars. Thankfully, it’s only mere seconds later that he collapses off to the side of you, his own chest heaving along with yours as you both now stare at the ceiling above you. Shadows flicker around the room from cars that pass by, the mumbled sound of cars honking and passing conversation being the only background noise to fill the silence.

“That was–,” his voice is raspy, laced with both exhaustion and the need to just close his eyes and sleep.

“Oui.” Your reply is met with a breathless chuckle, one you join in with soft laughter of your own.

He throws an arm around your waist, laying his head sideways between your breasts and then sighs in content. You mindlessly begin carting your fingers through his sweaty curls, and it’s not long before you hear soft snores coming from the male. Eventually, as you watch the shadows dance around the ceiling, do your own eyes get heavy, and you drift off into dreamland, a smile on your face.

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*

When you wake up, he’s gone.

A note, scrawled in elegant cursive lays on the pillow next to your head. A single rose accompanies it.

‘Jusqu'à ce que nous nous revoyions, mon amour.’

{Till we meet again, my love.”}

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*

You wouldn’t see him again for another two years, and by then, you’re no longer the same naive tourist you once were.

The skies were a effervescent shade of blue, with pillowy clouds scattered about. The hustle and bustle of tourists and residents around you served as a raucous kind of lullaby as you closed your eyes and savored all that this city had to offer - not noticing the photographer who saw you through his lens at a short distance away.

He pretended to be taking photos of the flowers that bloomed behind you, the various colors only enhancing the beauty that was naturally you. He inched ever so closer, just enough to angle his body in a way to capture the peaceful expression on your face within his lens crosshairs.

It was one lone click, followed by the sound of a shutter closing and opening on a camera that had your eyes blinking themselves open. For a second, you saw nothing as your eyesight once again needed time to focus on the light surrounding you instead of the dim darkness that was your eyelids.

When the blurry settled, and the saturation and vibrancy of the scenery around you sharpened, did you fixate your strong gaze to the male who looked at you, peaking his head slightly above the frame of his camera. A hint of a dimple could be seen, as well as his boxy, closed mouth smile.

“J’adore ton sourire.”

{“I love your smile.”}

The once serene look on your face turned to one of knowing, your smile still present - bigger, but demeanor becoming more poised. You knew exactly what he said, the mischievous way his eyes shined at you had your body yearning for more from the familiar male. He adored the way your cheeks let off a cherry hue, and couldn’t wait to see you writhe with pleasure underneath him again. Or, if he had a choice, above him.

“Je peux vous offrir un verre?”

{“Can I buy you a drink?”}

You recited the popular phrase you knew in French, having become more fluent in the love language since you last saw him, so you knew what to ask. Though forward, he welcomed the thrill — the adventure, the passion — as a once fellow foreigner did in a time past with open arms and mind.

“Oui.”

{“Yes.”}

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[perereiii]

Agnes!!!

And her ref sheet, of course.

Nerd out about the details in her outfit under cut!

OKAY LETS DO THIS

Aside from the little notes on the drawing, I want to cover design choices down here. Generally speaking, the outfit is historically inspired from here, consisting of a 1918 styled dress suit and shoes from that link in particular; though I’ll have images from there below. The split skirt, as seen below,

Comes from a desire to Do More Shit (not that the skirt was always restrictive—there’s a reason there the hobble skirt of 1907 fell off quickly—but it was much harder to ride a horse or a bike in a skirt). The split skirt was more popular between 1900-1914, as breeches (pants that end a bit below the knee, sometimes known as knickers or plus fours) gained popularity after WWI. I haven’t seen a suit dress combined with a split skirt before, though I’m sure it’s happened, and knowing Agnes, she’ll be fighting just as much as Alastor! The shoes generally pull from below,

I was debating how I wanted the pink/black to be, but I landed on the pink on the top because these shoes generally have a lighter top and darker bottom. Also, it puts something in between the already fully black skirt.

Agnes’ eyeglasses were changed from the monocle specifically because the pince-nez glasses style was more popular in the 1920s over the monocle (though thicker, “typical” glasses were also in vogue).

Her hair is the least historically inspired. I originally wanted to go with the stereotypical, sharp edged flapper bob, but that just didn’t mesh well with what her outfit was. I also wanted to keep the general shape of Alastor’s hair, which led to the shape of her hair near her forehead. The rest is meant to look like a very simplified hairstyle from circa 1918.

As for why I picked 1918, there’s a few reasons. One, from what I’ve seen, people tend to pick their favoured style when they’re around 20 years old. Alastor/Agnes died in 1933, both being around their mid 30s. That would make both likely born between 1895-1900 (though I always go with 1898). Flash forward 20 years, that’s 1918. Two, gotta get that split skirt somehow! And something tells me that Agnes was never into knickers being worn in situations outside of, say, golf. And finally, three, Alastor’s/Agnes’ outfit is NOT the box-like figure that the 20s and early 30s favoured, rather, Alastor’s animated with an hourglass figure (I’m considering the bottom of his suit the bottom half of the hourglass because it’s so large) which is more in line with the S figure of the 1900s.

The suit dresses I took inspiration from,

Would be these (Side note, hats could be weird). While they’re also rather boxy, using the magic of cartoonification, the waist can be shrunk in an absurd amount to fit Agnes’ appearance.

She has gloves, obviously. Not sure why Alastor lacks gloves (you can see in art that his forearms fade from his face skin tone to black, with red tips) but Agnes has gloves.

Her collar is just as stiff as Alastor’s, too. While the highly starched collars of the 1900s/10s were left for men (starched collars were left for men in general, really) I thought it’d look good with what she already has going on.

That’s about it for my nerding out. You better enjoy her (/joking threat).

#wrote her blurb in like 2 minutes. little disorganized but it gets the idea across #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel art #hazbin hotel fanart #hazbin hotel redesign #hazbin alastor #hazbin art #hazbin fanart #hazbin redesign #fem!alastor #hmmm #tw eye contact #she is staring directly into your soul #please look at her! it took a while to draw all of this

[zzoguri]

[part two] of linked arms and bruised hearts (you are the reason i keep on going) ➵ ji changmin

non-idol!ji changmin x reader, slight non-idol!jacob bae x reader

you and changmin have been best friends since high school, having seen each other at their best and worst. now in your second year of university, you are given the opportunity to work with the unattainable 5th-year you have had a crush on since—jacob bae. with your best friend on the receiving end of your rambles, you could only hope for something to come out of your time working with jacob. that is until changmin decides he wants something more out of his relationship with you.

genre/warnings ➵ friends to lovers, slow burn, so much FLUFF, afab reader (they/them pronouns), mentions of suggestive dreams, a lot of publication talk (sorry i am a writer), sunwoo is a STILL a shithead, a lot of sentimental talks between changmin and reader, so much platonic love in general!!, feelings are so weird, a lot of flashbacks, going back home for the winter break </3, too domestic (not for the faint of heart), if denial is a river in egypt then reader is SWIMMING in it, i'm afraid to say that reader is stupid (and can changmin just not hear?)

word count ➵ 27.7k words

parts ➵ check out the series masterlist

taglist ➵ @deoboyznet @kflixnet @blankjournal @winterchimez @sungbeam @miusgirl @jenoscafe

a/n ➵ expect some crazy realizations to happen! anyway, it took me three weeks to deliver this?? crazy!! i expected to only post two parts but i don't think tumblr can handle 45k words in one post </3 along with that, i wanted to get this out before i officially enter my 3rd year in uni!!! please expect for the third part to be delivered a little later since i need to prioritize my academics and newspaper work (and possibly another oneshot involving a kim sunwoo... oops?) hope you enjoy the CRAZY slow burn my lovelies. i would really appreciate it if you could take the time to like and reblog this post and the other parts!

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! main masterlist

Since Changmin had dreamt about you, he found himself unable to talk to you. Everything reminded him of you; the songs he would listen to on the way to school which you introduced him to; the cafe he would spend his free time in where you two usually studied; even phrases he would hear people say that you tend to frequent when speaking. It did not help that you were somewhat blowing up the group chat more than usual.

With all these reminders of you, Changmin always found his mind drifting back to the view of you in his dream. He has never seen you as a potential crush—let alone found you attractive. After all, he knew you when you first wore boxy glasses and cringe graphic tees (to which you donated).

You were never someone he desired. And yet, when you straddled him and said his name as if it were laced with nectar, you never left his mind. The imaginary tension between you two made him weak to the knees. And just from the fictional distance of your face from his, he could feel his breath hitch at the scenario constantly playing out in his head. That dream only pushed him to face thoughts he was not willing to entertain.

Over the days, you two have not been able to hang out. While he was trying to find ways to avoid you, you understood it as him being busy with his other obligations. That is until you spot him on campus.

Done with his last class for the day, Changmin exits the building with his eyes locked on the bus stop—his one ticket back home. He only cared to be snuggled into his sheets that were newly washed and fall into the shackles of a nap. That is until he hears someone call out his name.

As he looks for the source, his eyes land on you who is seated on one of the picnic tables with your laptop out. The moment you shoot him a smile, flashes of his dream play out; the way his name rolls off your tongue; the sensation of your breath that hovers over his lips; the legs that caged him in place. And suddenly, all he could do was point his thumb in the direction of the athletics center before he bolted. He could only hope that you do not cross paths with anyone from the dance team.

Clearly bummed out about not being able to spend some time with your best friend before your night class, you let out a sigh. You understood that he had a dance practice to worry about. With the way he seemed frazzled, it made sense that he was rushing to meet his team on time. That is until you are surprised by Sunwoo’s appearance at your table an hour later.

“Yo!” He greets you before taking a seat across from you, a bottle of green juice in his hands. “What are you up to?”

With a frown on your face, you ask, “Don’t you guys have practice?”

You are greeted by your best friend’s confused face before he brings out his phone. “I do?” He asks himself as he scrolls through it.

“Yeah, I saw Changmin like an hour ago and he seemed like he was rushing to the athletics center,” you sigh as you fix the document’s format that had your notes for the next class. “Unless I understood him wrong. I don’t even know, he kind of pointed somewhere and disappeared.”

Sunwoo hums as he types away on his phone. As he scratches the back of his head, you notice his expression shift into an all-knowing one. “Oh, it’s just for him and some other members. I think they’re just practicing a certain segment,” he shares before stowing his phone away.

“Anyway, I just remembered I have some work to catch up on so I’ll see you tomorrow or whenever!” And the next thing you know, your best friend left as quickly as he came. You stare at Sunwoo’s figure which continued to get smaller before he was out of sight. Before you could think much of his odd behavior, you were hit with the reality that you needed to attend class.

“Okay, you need to fess up on why you’re avoiding Y/N,” Sunwoo says as he enters Changmin’s room with a small yawn following.

Currently, Changmin is rolled up in his sheets as he scrolls through YouTube shorts on his phone. The sudden appearance of his best friend only made him frown. He did not expect to have Sunwoo pester him today, but he remembers the conversation he had with him through text not too long ago. 

zzoguri 🦝: are u at the dance studio? zzoguri 🦝: did coach change the plans? i thought today was our break qramzi 🐿️: yea there’s no practice zzoguri 🦝: okay so why did y/n just say you went to practice? qramzi 🐿️: i don’t want to talk about it zzoguri 🦝: spill or i tell them qramzi 🐿️: yah! can’t i have my own secrets? zzoguri 🦝: you can have secrets but i don’t know why you’re lying to y/n qramzi 🐿️: ugh fine qramzi 🐿️: i’ll tell you when i see you

“Sunwoo, couldn’t this wait until tomorrow?” Changmin groans before shooting his friend a glare. Sunwoo plops on his bed while he still wears his outside clothes, making him even more furious. “Yah, Kim Sunwoo! I just washed these sheets.”

He only shrugs and says, “Okay, that doesn’t matter. Now, tell me!” Changmin sighs over his best friend’s persistence.

Fully aware that Sunwoo was not planning to leave any time soon, he found himself pausing the shorts. He sat up and bit the inside of the cheek.

Out of all the people he had to talk to about this dilemma with you, he did not feel comfortable revealing it to Sunwoo—the one person who knew you inside and out. Who could blame him? Having to talk about his dream about you to your best friend since grade school put him in a spot where he was seriously debating on which situation is better: this or being eaten whole by a shark?

That is until Chanhee walks into the room with his eyes on his phone. “Changmin-ah, there’s this–oh, Sunwoo! You’re here.” His eyebrows shoot up at the sight. “Did I interrupt something?”

His appearance is only to be taken as a gift from the universe. With a victorious smile playing on Changmin’s lips, he shrugs before saying, “No, I was just telling Sunwoo that I’d see him tomorrow.”

But the man was not going to make this easy for him. “He’s avoiding Y/N.” As soon as those words leave his best friend’s (read: traitor for life’s) mouth, Chanhee gasps as he stares Changmin down.

“What?! Why?!” He says as he takes a seat on the bed. Sunwoo shrugs and points at the guy who was constantly dodging their questions.

Now under the scrutiny of his two best friends, Changmin had no choice but to answer. His hands seemed bound even if no visible ropes were holding them down. He scratches the back of his neck and says, “Just, don’t judge me. And don’t tell Y/N.” The two only give him a look as if he stated the obvious.

Changmin knew he could trust these two with any secret and trouble he faced. In the times he desperately needed to talk about stuff that should never concern you, he always found himself talking to them. However, them seeing his reluctance had them worried about what might have gone down between you and him.

“It’s just… this dream; it felt so real for a second,” he starts as he plays with the loose ends of his blanket.

And not even a second passes when Chanhee exclaims the words, “Oh my god, did you have a sex dream about Y/N?!” He eyes him up and down.

“W-what? No!”

“Oh, I see why you’ve been avoiding them,” Sunwoo chuckles, ignoring his best friend’s protests.

He grows frustrated as the two continue to jump into assumptions. “No, that’s not it! Won’t you let me finish?!” As soon as the two pipe down, he lets out a sigh.

“Nothing happened like that. We just… almost kissed,” he whispers those last words. This icky feeling he can only think of as shame starts to take over his limbs. But when hears a laugh leave Chanhee’s mouth, he furrowed his eyebrows.

“Almost?” Chanhee smacks Changmin’s arm. “Then why are you so tense? If nothing happened, then it shouldn’t be something to worry about.”

Sunwoo shakes his head before sharing his two cents. Clearly, he wanted to play the shithead in a situation like this (like he always does).“No way, I’m starting to think Changmin is developing a crush on Y/N.” He gives the stressed-out boy a teasing smile. “Aren’t you?”

“W-what?! No! I’m not, what the fuck?”

From his panicked answer, Chanhee shakes his head with a small smile on his face. “See, then it means nothing,” He attempts to calm the situation down as he stands up from the bed. “It’s normal to just have dreams like that. It won’t mean much unless you put meaning into it.”

His best friend is right; it is normal to have nonsensical dreams. Changmin has had dreams about outrageous events such as Gana (his pet poodle) learning how to talk, his sisters deciding to move back into the family home, and even coming face-to-face with his celebrity crush. These dreams are not always manifestations of what he desires—which is why he does not understand why he is still riled up about some dream where you two almost kissed.

“You know, Chanhee is right. I like to tease and all but it is normal,” Sunwoo starts off. “But you shouldn’t be avoiding Y/N because of it. It’s not fair to them, you know?”

All Changmin could do was hum as he looked down at his hands. Once again, his best friend is right; there should be no reason for him to avoid you when you did nothing wrong.

“I know. It all just felt weird, and I think I needed to find some time to get over it.” As he admits that to his friends, he is only met with their smiles.

“You’ll be fine,” Chanhee reassures him before ruffling his hair. “Just remember that it’s just Y/N. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

It is easier said than done for Changmin to go back to his usual antics with you. No matter how many times Chanhee tried to reassure him, it felt like something was holding him back—the idea of you reading right through him. It is not like you know all his thoughts. But if he stood before you, he felt like he would be at your mercy—letting you know all of his desires without any chance to rethink his actions. That is why when you approach him and Sunwoo during lunch, he is thrown off guard.

It is not like he was not expecting you to see him. After all, the spot they were staying in is in a corner on campus where the friend group would spend breaks together. It is an old picnic table whose wood was covered in old graffiti and smudges. Changmin was sure that this table was the last old one on campus for its wood is discolored as sand. Placed in a secluded area on campus behind the athletics center but still close to the publication room, it became the perfect spot for your friend group.

Sunwoo looks up at you in the middle of slurping his ramyeon noodles as you set your hands down on the table. Unlike your usual collected look and happy-go-lucky nature, the two noticed your disheveled appearance; eyebags are unseemly heavier than usual; shoulders slouched from how fatigued you have been.

“Are you okay?” Sunwoo decides to ask as soon as you take a seat in front of the two. You only let out a groan before your head rests on crossed arms. Without having to hear a verbal answer from you, your two best friends shared a look of worry.

Changmin has to swallow his shame; he needs to know what is going on with you. He could not let a dream hold him back from checking up on you, especially at a time when you needed him the most.

So his hand reached out for your arm, rubbing it ever so slowly. “Hey, what’s up?”

As you let yourself look up at your two friends whose faces were full of concern, you let out a sigh. “I’m just stressed out. You know, it’s November already so I’ve got some heavier projects to accomplish.”

“And I’m assuming the pub work is added stress,” Sunwoo chimes in before taking another slurp of noodles.

You nod and say, “Yeah. Right now, Jacob’s schedule is entirely different from mine so we’ve been working separately for the most part.” As soon as your chin rests back on your crossed arms, you let out another sigh and stare off into nowhere. “I miss him,” you shyly admit to the two.

It was to be expected for you to miss Jacob. During your first coverage together, he helped in alleviating the stress that came with it. From his smiles and encouragement to his exquisite way with words, he made every minute feel like a breeze in summer. But surprisingly enough, you felt like you could breathe without him around.

Sunwoo rolls his eyes at your reveal. “Aish! Of course, you do.” With your eyes preoccupied with whatever caught your attention, he looks at Changmin and gives him a subtle smirk. All your best friend could do is stop comforting you to smack the other.

Interrupted by Sunwoo’s whine, you look back at the two and frown at the sight of him grabbing onto his arm while Changmin continues to eat his bibimbap. Before you could ask, Sunwoo looked at his phone.

“Ah, that’s the time already?!” He quickly gets out of his seat and shoves his phone into his pocket before grabbing his empty bowl of ramyeon. “I’m going to be late for my class!”

“What class?”

“3D Character Animation,” he answers Changmin with a groan following. As soon as he notices his best friend who only has a look of desperation plastered on his face, he could only hold back his giggle. “I’ll see you two!”

And with that, Changmin is left alone with you—the one who has occupied his mind since that night. The realization of him spending time with you for the first time since that dream came to him was starting to sink in. With no moment to swallow his shame, he let his eyes trail down to his bowl of beef, rice, and stir-fried vegetables.

“So, how about you?” Once you ask the question, all he does is shrug before taking a big bite of his food.

It is not unusual for your best friend to not be in the mood to talk, but you noticed something was off about his behavior. Since that one day he rushed to the athletics center, you could not shake off this odd gut feeling—it felt like something was eating you up inside. Yet, you could not pinpoint the reason behind it.

You have always felt confident in your friendship with Changmin. There has not been a grave instance where he seemingly threatened it. No matter how many times you quarreled over small details throughout your friendship, you two knew to trust each other wholeheartedly. But as soon as you bumped into Juyeon that same day, your anxieties turned into something real.

As soon as your night class was dismissed, you quickly made your way out of the classroom. The talk about inverted pyramids and ledes in your journalism class only made your head hurt. All you could think about is your sweet home that had the soft bed you wish to pass out on. The headphones you wore blasted the sweet melodies of “1 to 10” by DAY6—your pick-me-up song on days like these. Clearly drained from the day, you were hoping no one would bother you on your way to the parking lot.

That is until your eyes land on a boy who you have grown familiar with from short interactions on campus and at parties. “Oh, Juyeon!” You call out as you move your headphones to hang around your neck.

The boy who you were going to cross paths with looks in your direction. As soon as his cat-like eyes recognize you, he gives you a smile and jogs towards you. “Hi, Y/N. I didn’t expect to see you around here.”

“I usually park by the athletics center.”

Juyeon nods as he lets out a hum. “Did you just come from class?” After you nod, you decide to ask him the same question. “I just came from the dance studio. You know, practicing for the competition coming up.”

“Oh, were you with Changmin?”

That is when you are met with an answer you were not expecting. “Actually, there was no practice today. Coach let us have a bit of time to rest but I wanted to practice.”

When Juyeon reveals that, you cannot help but feel the anxiety start to pool in your stomach. To be fair, you might have misunderstood him when he rushed out. Changmin did not owe you anything, but you still cannot stop the ill feeling brewing inside you.

“Oh, I see,” you force a grin as you say those words. “Good luck, by the way! Rooting for you and the rest of the team.”

Juyeon gives you a smile with eyes squinted. “Thank you! I hope to see you in the crowd.” With that, you parted ways. You do not allow yourself to cry.

Ever since that day, you have not seen Changmin. In those weeks, you allowed your mind to come into every possible assumption—what if he is getting annoyed with you? What if he is struggling with his own problems? What if he just wants to be alone?

You wanted to respect him and his space, but the more this behavior kept on going, the more you allowed yourself to be ripped up by the speculations your anxiety-ridden mind has crafted. It did not help that you figured out that Sunwoo was covering for him on that day—the one guy you so desperately wanted to seek comfort in. And who is to say that Chanhee would not cover for his best friend as well?

Now with no one to go to, you allowed yourself to dwell on ideas surrounding Changmin’s avoidance. But you knew you had to swallow your pride.

“Ji Changmin.” As you call out his name in a tone he rarely hears, he looks up at you. It is rare for him to hear you say his full name like that—almost as if his mother is about to scold him. But he knew that this is not a case of standing guilty before his mother; it is a case of you calling attention to the elephant in the room.

“Let’s talk,” you say those words easily despite the crushing weight on your heart. For a moment, you let your words hit him. So when you see him finally drop his spoon down on the bowl, you realize he was ready to talk.

“Changmin, I need you to be honest with me.” You swallow down the lump in your throat—almost as if you were trying to get rid of the anxiety. “Are you avoiding me?”

As soon as you ask that question, Changmin shakes his head quickly with eyes full of worry. “Oh god, Y/N. I’m not. I-I didn’t mean to come off that way.”

“So you aren’t?”

Changmin sighs before he lets his hands reach toward yours. As he grabs hold of your hands, he says, “I mean, I just needed some time away from you.” Before you say any more, he interjects, “But not in the way you may think of it to be. It’s completely all on me—you did nothing wrong.”

“Then what’s wrong?” As soon as you ask him that question, you are met with silence. His eyes trail down to your linked hands. “Changmin,” you call out so that he looks right back into your eyes. He does not.

You shake your head and free one of your hands from his grasp. Your hand reaches out for the underside of his chin so that you could lift his face. And with that action, Changmin feels his breath hitch. 

With his eyes locked with yours and your hand holding his chin delicately like a freshly sprouted flower, he feels like he is transported back to his dream. Every action you seemingly do only reminds him of his fantasy of you. It does not help that your worried eyes looked like your nervous ones in his dream.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Once the question leaves your mouth, Changmin snaps out of his trance. He leans a little backward so that his chin slips out of your grasp. “Yes, sorry. It’s not because you did anything wrong.”

“Okay, but why avoid me then? You know you can talk to me, right?” And he knew that more than anyone. You have always offered him a place for him to talk no matter what it may be about. He did not owe you to share his thoughts, but he is forever in debt to you for opening such a space.

He sighs as he finally lets go of your hands. “It’s… embarrassing,” he whispers the last word with shame overtaking his body once more.

“It can’t be that bad,” you attempt to reassure him only to be met with him avoiding your gaze. “I mean, what’s there to be embarrassed about with me? You’ve known me my whole high school life—it can’t be worse than that.”

For a moment, Changmin contemplates. You had every right to think that way, but you had no idea of his intimate dream with you. He knew he could get out of this. And yet, he found himself defenseless against you.

“God, I can’t believe I’m saying this,” he whispers to himself. As he notices a frown appear on your face, he shakes his head. “Just, please do not judge when I say this.” Your frown stays, curious to hear what he has to say. “Before anything, I respect you, okay?”

When he says those words, you cannot help but let a chuckle slip out. “I know that, don’t worry.”

“Yes, but… ugh, I don’t know how to say this,” he mutters as he thinks about the best way to share what has been bothering him.

You reach out once more for his hand and hold onto it. “Changmin, it’s fine. Rip the bandaid out—for the both of us.”

He hesitates for a second. With the way his eyebrows are furrowed and his eyes filled with guilt, you can tell he was struggling to get the secret out. Before you could say any more, he spoke.

“I had this dream,” he waits for you to say something. When you do not interrupt, he takes it as a signal to continue. “It had you in it.”

It takes you a moment to process his words. Yet, before he could say more, you found yourself saying, “Oh.”

“Wait! It’s not what you think!” He blurts out before you could assume anymore. “I swear, I did not have that type of dream about you.”

When you decide to not interject, he takes it as an opportunity to continue. “God, it’s just that we almost… you know… kissed,” he whispers that last word as if it were a sin with downcast eyes.

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?” You finally ask him, earning a nod.

Silence then settles between you two. For a moment, he does not know if he should say something or if he should let it sit with you. There were so many thoughts traveling through his mind—he only expects you to be disgusted by him. And yet, your hand still held his.

For some reason, you cannot help but laugh at the revelation. Changmin finds himself looking up at you only to be met with your shaking head which is accompanied by a small smile. “God, you’re that worked up over an almost kiss?”

As soon as you ask that question, he is thrown off by your casual nature. It is as if you did not understand the gravity of this. “W-what? You wouldn’t be?” He is only met with you shaking your head once more.

“No, dumbass,” you chuckle as you retract your hand from his and ruffle his hair. “There’s no reason for you to get so embarrassed over a dream. It’s not like you can control it… unless?”

“Why would I want to kiss you?!”

The way Changmin physically reels as he says those words make you laugh. “See! Then your dream means nothing.” You smile as you let your chin rest on your arm that is propped up on the table. “If it helps, I’ve dreamt about you too.”

Your best friend cannot hide his shocked expression. The idea of you dreaming about him is something he has never entertained until your reveal. “You have? About what?”

“Secret.”

“Hey, I told you mine!”

You can only laugh at your best friend’s behavior. “I’m assuming you told Sunwoo, right?”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “He cornered me into telling him and Chanhee when he heard from you that I was “practicing.” It felt so weird to tell him.”

“Well, that’s Sunwoo for you. If it helps, he was also the first person I told about my dream of you.”

Changmin pouts at you while your grin remains the same. “I thought we were best friends.”

“Yeah,” you look at him up and down. “Until you decided to avoid me over a dream!”

“Okay, fair point,” he admits with a sheepish smile. “But I ended up telling you! Why won’t you tell me yours?”

You roll your eyes over his childish behavior and say, “Because mine is far more embarrassing than an “almost kiss” that you seemed to have with me.” With those words, he cannot help but be curious.

A frown now plastered on his face, his mind runs through every possible dream that could be more embarrassing than his. Nothing could possibly beat his dream of you—until his mind lands on a particular idea. With a small chuckle leaving his mouth, he asks, “Did you have a sex dream about me?”

“No.” The way you blurt out the word ruins the cover you built. And there is no way to save yourself from this mess.

“Oh my god, you did!” He exclaims with eyebrows raised over the revelation. “When did you have it?” When all he receives is an eye roll from you, he decides to push further. “C’mon! Like you said, my dream does not mean anything as much as yours doesn’t.”

You sigh out in frustration before you frown at the boy across from you. “First year of college—it was after I saw your recital where you performed “BOSS” by NCT,” you shyly admit as you avoid his gaze. Although you refuse to look at him, you can feel how his eyes bore into you.

“Really? You liked that fit on me?” He asks smugly to which you groan. “I’m kidding!” You roll your eyes once more as you let him finally take some spoonfuls of his bibimbap.

The silence that settles on you two is surprisingly comfortable. Despite the awkward revelations that came on both ends (most especially on yours), the stillness of it all does not make you sit in embarrassment.

“Thank you, though.” You finally look back at him. “I mean, thank you for telling me,” he says with a shy smile on his face.

Changmin has always been the type to keep his feelings to himself—the one to hide his shame away. You have always known that since you first knew him as Sunwoo’s friend. But you also knew that leaving a space for him to talk gave him opportunities to be vulnerable with you—all he needs is a little reminder.

You let out a sigh. “Just don’t avoid me like that again.”

��I won’t.” Changmin nods as he finishes his bibimbap. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

As you shrug, you are met with his frown. Before you could say anymore, you felt your phone buzz. While he observes the way your face shifts from exhaustion to pure euphoria, an ill feeling starts to poll in his stomach. “Nevermind, I’m going to grab lunch with Jacob.”

When those words slip out of your mouth, a weight is dropped right on top of his heart. The last time he felt like this was when Hwang Hyunjin was offered the center position for one of the routines that he was aiming for. He hates this feeling—why did he feel this way over how you mentioned Jacob’s name?

“You are? I thought your schedules were completely different,” he murmurs before his eyes drift back down to his bowl.

“Yeah, but he just texted asking if I wanted to grab lunch with him. Hopefully, we can work on the article after so that my life is easier.” You smile while you text away. Changmin only allows himself to hum.

“Are you okay if I go? Or do you want me to wait for you?”

When you ask that question, every part of him wants to tell you to stay. In the time he has avoided you, it is only now that he is starting to realize how much he missed hanging out with you. Every part of him only wanted to hold you close to him—to forever link arms with you every second of the day. But this is Changmin we’re talking about—he would never hold you back from what you want to do.

He shakes his head with a small smile as a cover-up. “No, you should go. I know you miss him.” As he sees your grin, he cannot help but feel his heart being tugged harshly. 

“Thank you!” You exclaim as you get off your seat. “I’ll update you!” And with that, you left your best friend. Now, he is left with thoughts and feelings he wishes to not entertain.

Before you met up with Jacob, you made sure to cover up your fatigue (thank god you brought some makeup) by hiding your dark circles. In contrast with the exhausted look that Changmin and Sunwoo previously saw, you presented yourself as you normally would when going to campus.

Now, you stand in front of a restaurant whose specialty lies in Korean fried chicken. Once you entered, you noticed that there were only a handful of students from your university. Other customers were those dressed in button-ups and slacks while some came in casual clothing.

As you look around, you spot the 5th-year who types away on his phone. The sight of him never fails to warm your heart. You walk towards him and greet him with a smile, “Hi, Jacob.”

When his eyes land on you, he flashes you that all-knowing smile (god, you will always be defenseless against him). “Oh, hi! Please take a seat.” He stashes his phone in his pocket. As soon as you take a seat, he says, “I already ordered the fried chicken and kimchi-jjigae just a few minutes ago, so it will probably be here soon.”

“Ah, thank you so much! I haven’t eaten the whole day,” you admit as you scratch the back of your neck. While you take a gulp of water, Jacob speaks up.

“You haven’t? Well, we’re gonna make sure you eat lots now,” he smiles at you which has you almost choking on your water—just almost. When you place the cup back down, you show him a shy smile.

Your relationship with Jacob has been complicated. Ever since that fateful night when he asked about your relationship with Changmin, something in the air shifted—it felt as if the aura he emits is different. Although his innocent praises stayed, he started to tell you things that made you melt from the inside out. From “Good job with the draft!” to “I like what you did with your hair today,” you did not know what to make of this new dynamic with him.

Still, a part of you wanted to hold back from pursuing anything. Despite getting to know him during the weeks you two worked together, you found yourself still valuing all his thoughts about you. In your mind, he is still the 4th-year who you idolized when you first entered the publication. 

“So, how are you?” You try to shift the conversation. “Have your professors been assigning you some heavy projects?”

Jacob nods and hums in affirmation. “I expected to have more free time since I’m in my 5th year. But surprisingly, my academics still take up a huge chunk of my time.” He sighs as he looks down at the table. “With my internship and the publication work, my schedule has been cramped.”

“I can only imagine.” And you only really could. You have always anticipated your senior year to be hectic as when Changmin and Chanhee were juggling their priorities the summer before their 4th year. The two never really got to enjoy that summer; they dreaded every day until the start of their senior year.

“What about you? How’s the final leg of the semester treating you?” As Jacob asks the question, you could only sigh. He could only chuckle. “I’m assuming it’s not going well for you also.”

You let out a groan before complaining, “Professors have this tendency to assign due dates for heavy projects before the actual finals season. I mean, I get it—they’re trying to do us a favor so that we can focus on actual finals but literally every prof is doing that.” As you were going on a tangent, you noticed Jacob starting to smile. “I just think that professors could have easily spaced out the workload.”

Before you could ask about what he is smiling about, an old woman comes to your table with a bowl of kimchi-jjigae and a basket of Korean fried chicken. Your stomach grumbles at the sight. As soon as she sets the two dishes down, she smiles and coos at the boy in front of you, pinching his cheeks. “My Jacob, I didn’t know you were having a date!”

Once those words leave her mouth, your eyes widen in shock. You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks all while Jacob smiles at the server. “Ah halmeoni, thank you for preparing such a good meal.” He does not make an effort to deny your lunch being a date—the butterflies start to swarm in your stomach.

“Of course, my sweet sweet boy.” She finally stops pinching his cheeks and smiles at you. “Please enjoy your date.” Before you could protest, she left the two of you to serve the other customers calling her.

You cannot find your voice. Somehow, you were scared to let a sound out in fear that your voice would crack from how the woman described this lunch. It did not help that Jacob went along with it. And what made you melt even more is when he poured you a bowl of kimchi-jjigae and placed a piece of chicken on your plate.

When you stare at Jacob who pours himself some stew, he only shoots you that godforsaken smile. You may not know what you want with Jacob at the end of all of this. But one thing is for sure though—you wanted this feeling to remain. 

It is 10:34 PM. You are seated in your living room watching an episode of Bluey while your laptop remains abandoned. During times of stress, you always found yourself watching this show for comfort. Its digestible plot and heartwarming nature found in each episode worked for your weak heart. That is until you hear your doorbell ring.

You were not expecting a delivery—let alone anyone at this time. As you got off the couch and walked towards the door, you peeked through the peephole only to see your best friend dressed up in a white shirt and grey jogging pants.

As soon as you open the door, you ask, “Changmin? Why the hell are you here?”

The last time you saw him was two weeks ago—the day you confronted him about his avoidance. Your friend group was preoccupied with hell season (read as “professors assigning heavy projects”) and extracurriculars, preventing you four from hanging out. 

It was a miracle that you and Jacob managed to wrap up your article on drinking culture amongst students just a few weeks after Halloween. Now, you two were rushed into finishing the joint article on hustle culture in student organizations so that it would be published in time before finals season comes.

In Chanhee’s case, he was assigned more coverages aside from the ones he had to work on with you two. He always swooped in on time to film and capture the moments and left as quickly as he could to handle his other duties. It is crazy how you two are in the same publication but barely see each other.

While you and Chanhee have been preoccupied with publication work, Changmin and Sunwoo have been practicing non-stop for their competition happening tomorrow. They have spent almost every night in the dance studio going over the same routine countless times; sweating through every shirt they had; exerting every muscle in them; enduring every bruise that came from dancing. That is why you do not understand why Changmin stood before you when his competition was happening tomorrow.

“I’m here to check up on you,” he says as he takes his shoes off and sets them aside before taking a step into your place. You close the door and frown at the boy who was making his way to your couch. “You’re watching Bluey? Now you need to tell me what’s going on.”

You sigh as you make your way beside him and plop down on the couch. “I’m just taking a break from work.”

“Is it the same one from last time? The drinking culture one?”

“Nope.” You pop the ‘p’ sound as you grab your laptop. “It’s about hustle culture in orgs,” as you say those words, your best friend could only chuckle. “Why? What’s so funny?”

He raises his eyebrows at you. “Don’t you think it’s funny how you’re writing about that when you have been working like crazy for the newspaper?” As he points it out, you only roll your eyes. “I know you’ve been writing non-stop, so why don’t you just take a break?”

You firmly shake your head and say, “I can’t; my break was watching Bluey.” While you type away, you could feel your best friend start to rest his head on your shoulder as he watches the show without you. Oddly enough, you felt all the knots in your body untie themselves—it was as if Changmin helped alleviate the stress by simply being present.

The episodes play out while you work; searching up synonyms for basic words like “say” or “work”; typing out phrases that sound right; deleting every unnecessary word to save you on characters. After two episodes ended, you could feel your best friend tug on your arm. You look to your right to see his concerned eyes. “C’mon, you can work on that tomorrow. I don’t want you to overwork yourself tonight.”

You only show him a small smile. He is right. Over the past weeks, you have found yourself staying up countless nights to balance your academics and publication work. Your friend group is well aware of this (since you have messaged them during the late hours), and they would always remind you to take breaks. Yet, you never did allow yourself to listen. A part of you felt like you needed to work every minute.

When you decide to not say anything, Changmin takes it as a sign to get off the couch. “C’mon, let’s go to the mart downstairs. You really need to take a break.”

“But–”

“No.” He grabs hold of your laptop and pries it away from your hands. As you whine, he only shakes his head. “Y/N, I know you. If you keep this up, you’re going to get sick. So for once, just listen to me.” Your best friend’s persistence is something that you could not battle against. And after you let out a sigh, you find yourself getting off the couch.

Now, you two were sitting inside the convenience store located on the ground floor of your apartment complex. While you ate away on your cup of ice cream, Changmin was munching on some bread with red beans in it.

“Aren’t you not allowed to be snacking late at night before your competition?” He only hums as he watches you chew on the wooden spoon. “Are you nervous about tomorrow?”

He shakes his head and says, “This isn’t about me—I’m here to ask about you.” You can only sigh over his behavior. Being put under the spotlight is something you always dread, especially when it comes to your own problems. Changmin, of all people, knew this—but he only corners you when it is necessary for you would only bottle it all up.

“What about we talk about everything?” When you are met with a frown, you whine, “Changmin, you know I hate it when I talk about this shit alone. Let me at least hear you out.”

For a moment, he remains frowning at you. But just like him, you are persistent. He sighs before giving in to your request. “Fine, shoot.”

“How are you feeling about tomorrow?”

He gives himself a moment to think over the question before answering with, “Oddly enough, I feel a bit more confident about the competition tomorrow.”

“Hey, that’s good!”

He chuckles as he looks down on his bread. “I know. I mean, a part of me is still nervous but I feel like it would be good to end this on a good note.” He finds himself smiling as he looks out the window. “I’m just hoping we secure that win, you know? Considering that I have several center parts–”

“Are you really trying to flex that right now?” You scoff as you twirl the wooden spoon. 

“I’m just saying.”

“Whatever, you’re not all that.”

“Do you see me commenting shit like that every time you talk about getting clean closes on your articles?”

As soon as your best friend looks at you, he is greeted with a frown on your face. “You always do. Be so for real right now.”

“Just because you always talk about it! Let me have my moment,” he says which only has you rolling your eyes. “But continuing before you interrupted me, I still want to do well. I want to win for my team—let the mark I leave be a good one.”

You understood where Changmin was coming from. Even if he talked about being a bit more relaxed, you knew that this competition still mattered to him as a graduating senior. His passion for dance is something you do not usually see from anyone. At the end of everything, he wanted to prove that his love for this activity is something to be acknowledged—all the time he has spent dancing is something worthy to commemorate.

“Hey, and you will,” you say as you bump shoulders with him. “I know you will do good.”

He lets a chuckle out. “I know I will do good when you’re there.”

“Calling me your lucky charm then?” You smirk as you chew on your wooden spoon. When you do not hear him say anything, you turn your head to look at him only to be met with his small smile.

“Yeah, I do.” Just like a bonfire on a cold night, his words warm your heart. You never expect him to go with it. And yet, the way he says the words so easily almost makes you smile.

In an attempt to not feed his ego, you roll your eyes and face away from him to hide your expression. Before you could say any more, he spoke. “Now that we talked about me, let’s talk about whatever you have going on.”

You sigh as you look out the window. “I don’t know. I mean, it’s just the stress of everything, you know?”

“Okay, so tell me about it—go through what’s bothering you one by one.” When he says those words, you cannot help but feel your heartstrings tug. It is during these times that you remember Changmin’s constant aid when you found yourself struggling in silence.

Despite being the talkative one in your friend group, you never liked to dive into your troubles. If anything, you liked to be the person who people went to for comfort versus the person who vents their struggles. Even in your early years of being friends with Sunwoo, he has known you to be the type of person who would discredit their problems. That is why it is not rare for you to sweep your difficulties under the rug. And every day, you always appreciate Sunwoo for being present in the moments you need him the most.

Funnily enough, the same goes for your best friend. Changmin was fine with talking about anything and everything unless it concerned his problems. He was the type of person to lock himself away in his low times—hide away so that he burdens no one. And yet, his walls would always break when you came into the picture. Because at the end of everything, you want to be the shoulder he can lean on. And just like you, he does the same for you.

Somehow, the universe gifted you someone who knew you from the inside and out—one who pushed you to the necessary limits that you needed to reach in order to grow. You could only hope he felt the same towards you.

Under his gaze, you finally found it within yourself to speak. “I don’t know what to feel.” You find yourself looking back at Changmin only to be greeted by his nod. “I mean, I don’t know what to feel about Jacob.”

You do not miss the way he frowns as you say the 5th-year’s name. “Go on,” he urges you to continue.

“I feel like–god, I don’t know how to say it.” You let your eyes trail back down to your cup of ice cream. “Ever since that Halloween party, I feel like something changed, you know? Like he’s still sweet but I feel so hyperaware that he might actually reciprocate whatever I’m feeling about him.”

Changmin only hums before he takes a bite of his bread. As soon as he swallows it down, he says, “You’re not happy about your crush showing some interest in you?”

You shake your head before admitting, “Crazily enough, I feel more scared.” You do not allow your eyes to meet with his. “Like, I love the feeling of spending time with him. But when I remember what he said at the party and all the other times he has said something almost flirtatious in nature, I feel myself freeze up.”

“Okay, why do you think that?”

You find yourself shrugging. “I feel like I still think of him as the 4th-year that I first found myself crushing on when I entered the publication. A part of me still puts him on this pedestal who I idolize versus a friend who I’ve gotten to know during my weeks working with him.”

You hate that it turned out this way. Every part of you wants to jump head-first into whatever you and Jacob have going on. And yet, you can never push him off the pedestal—almost as if he is forever rooted in that place. You are about to say more until you are met with a question that you do not expect.

“Do you, I don’t know, ever see yourself with him?” Once your best friend asks that, you cannot help but stare at him. “I know it’s a lot to consider.”

“No, you’re good,” you mumble as you let yourself look back out the window. “I… don’t know. Oddly enough, I don’t think I can see myself with anyone.” As soon as those words leave your mouth, you allow your eyes to meet Changmin’s which are only filled with worry.

“You don’t?”

It has only occurred to you that you have never mentioned this thought to him. Despite the many times you rambled to him about all your short-lived crushes, you never really had anything progress past that stage—let alone saw yourself pursuing them.

“Yeah, it’s weird,” you found yourself saying after finishing your last spoonful of ice cream. “To me, I’ve grown so accustomed to the idea that all my crushes will stay as crushes, you know? That’s what I’m familiar with.”

Silence engulfs you two for a moment. You let Changmin process what you just shared with him. But when you realize that he was not going to say anything, you chose to continue. “I have gone my whole life just doing work that I find it hard to even imagine a future where I’m not working.” You find yourself sighing. “Is it odd to think that I feel like I am put in this world for the sole reason to work?”

It is supposed to be a hypothetical question—until your best friend answers. “Y/N,” he calls your name out before his hand finds its way to yours. “You are more than your accomplishments, you know that right?” You look at him with eyes full of shock. There was not enough time for you to think of an answer as he continued to speak. “You are deserving of love—you always have been.”

You feel his hand grip yours a tad tighter. His fingers held your hand as if you could easily slip away. You knew it was his way of wanting you to hear him out—to believe his words.

It has been something you noticed since your second year in high school. You can remember the first time you finally started to pick up his small habits—from the way he likes to link arms with you to the way he tends to hit whoever is beside him whenever he is excited.

It is rare for him to firmly grip your hand. In the same way you would reserve these types of talks to be mainly with him, you could only hope that it was an action he reserved for you.

“I know that you may have gone your life under the impression that no one wants you in the way you hope, but there are people who love to have you in their lives. I know you value your work because I do too, but you aren’t just some commodification of labor—you are a burst of energy for Chanhee; a familiar presence for Sunwoo; a place of solace for me.” The more he continues with his tangent, the harder it gets for you to find the right words to say.

Somehow, he reads your thoughts and says, “I’m not saying you should dive in with whatever you have going on with Jacob hyung without understanding what you want from him. But I think you should at least entertain the idea that you can possibly have something with him.” He takes a moment to sigh as he draws circles on the back of your hand. “I just don’t want you to hold yourself back from getting something that you have deserved for so long just because it’s unfamiliar.”

And deep inside, you knew Changmin was right. He has always been the type to remind you that you do deserve happiness—whether it may be in whatever career path you decide to set on or hobbies you wish to pursue. And yet, you still hold yourself back from attaining something that stands right before you. Are you really part of the list of people who deserve happiness?

But you know that if you say anymore, the conversation would spiral down further. “I just,” you take a deep breath as you bring your linked hands closer to you. “I–I don’t know anymore. Maybe I just need time to just figure out whatever the fuck I’m feeling,” you chuckle as you look down at your hand that intertwines with his.

“And take all the time you need,” he whispers. Once you look at him, his gaze never falters. In those eyes you have grown accustomed to, you allow yourself to be exposed to him in ways that no one will ever have the privilege of seeing.

Your best friend smiles at you and says, “Come on, it’s getting late. I’ll bring you back to your place.” Once he stands up, he grabs your empty cup and wooden spoon with his plastic wrapper from the bread and throws them into the trash bin.

The walk back was silent—nothing needed to be said for you two were content with being in each other’s presence. When Changmin drops you off by your door, you smile at him. “Thank you for tonight. It kind of felt nice to have it finally out.”

He gives you a small shrug and says, “I’m always here to help you carry your burdens.” You cannot help but feel your heartstrings tug.

Before he could say more, you wrap your arms around him and pull him into a hug. He feels himself stiffen at the sudden action. And when he realizes that it is you who initiates the hug, he melts into it.

It is not rare for you two to hug—for you to initiate them, however, is a once-in-a-blue-moon experience. Although your best friend loves physical touch, it was never something you sought out. The most you ever did was link arms or hold hands—for you to bring him into a hug was unexpected.

As you feel his arms wrap around your waist, you allow yourself to release a shaky breath. Even if you were not a big fan of physical touch, a hug like this one will always bring you immense comfort. “Thank you,” you whisper into his shoulder. All he does is continue to embrace you.

Once you let go of him, he does the same. “I’ll see you tomorrow, my shining star.” As you say those words, Changmin cannot hide the smile that shows on his lips.

“I’ll wait for you, lucky charm.” You smile before entering your apartment. The moment the door shuts close, he starts walking away while fishing his phone out of his pocket. He dials one of his best friends and brings the phone close to his ear.

After three rings, he hears a groan from the other end of the line. “Changmin, it’s late. What do you want?” Sunwoo complains in his groggy voice.

“I think I’m fucked.”

“Ok–”

“I think I like Y/N.”

Changmin is met with silence. For a moment, he thinks Sunwoo hung up on him. That is until he says, “Expect me at your place in ten minutes.”

When you wake up, you expect to feel sluggish. But as soon as you start to feel your body ache, you realize that today was not going to go as planned.

“I don’t think I can make it,” you groaned out to your best friend who was on the other line as you waited for the thermometer to finalize its results regarding your temperature. “God, I’m so annoyed.”

“Aish, this is what you get for staying up so many nights!” Chanhee scolds you as you set your phone on speaker mode.

While you roll your eyes at his reprimanding, you hear a beep emit from the thermometer placed under your arm. Once you took it out, you could see that your temperature is at 39°C. You scratch the top of your head and say, “Fuck, I am sick.”

Unbeknownst to you, Chanhee was in the dance team’s dressing room seated near Changmin as he was getting his makeup done. Changmin furrowed his eyebrows at his best friend who was on call with you. “What’s wrong?” He whispers only to earn no response from Chanhee.

“God, don’t tell Changmin I’m not there,” you say as you store the thermometer away on your bedside table. You grab onto your phone to double-check if Chanhee was still on the line.

He attempts to joke and says, “Oh, so I can tell Sunwoo?”

You roll your eyes even if he cannot see your reaction. “Obviously not. I just–right now, they should not be worrying about me. It’s a big deal for them, especially Changmin.” As you whisper your best friend’s name, you could feel the guilt eating you apart. After last night’s conversation, you knew he would not be able to rest easy knowing you are sick. “Can you think of an excuse? Like maybe just say I’m running late?”

“I don’t know if I can,” He admits as he stares at the topic of the conversation who only has a look of concern. Before Changmin could say anything, he waved his hand at him. “Do you need me to book a delivery for you? Do you have some meds?”

As you peer over to your bedside table to look through the drawers, you notice some acetaminophen pills sealed up. “Yeah, I have enough to last me around three days.”

“I’ll bring some more when I visit you. What about soup?”

You sigh. “It’s okay; I can handle it. Just make sure to cheer them on for me.”

Chanhee bites on his lip as he stares back at Changmin who was starting to connect the dots. Based on the one-sided conversation, it was starting to make sense in his head what was going on—not only could you not make it to the competition but you were sick.

“Okay, I’ll see you later?” Chanhee finally asks. As soon as you hum, you decide to end the call. While you were under the impression that Changmin had no clue of your absence, the reality is that he was well aware of what was happening.

“They’re sick,” Changmin mutters to himself as he looks at himself through the mirror while Park Seonghwa, one of the makeup artists that work closely with the dance troupe, continues to pamper him.

His best friend sighs as he types away on his phone. “They don’t want you to worry about them. Just focus on the competition and we can visit them after.” As he said those words, Changmin could feel the anxiety start to brew within him; his heart started to feel heavy; his palms were getting sweaty; it almost felt like the walls were going to collapse on him.

Chanhee starts to notice that Changmin was drifting into a headspace that they wanted to absolutely avoid. “Seonghwa, can you excuse us?” Once the makeup artist nods and walks away to work on someone else, Chanhee quickly stands up from his seat and walks behind his panicked friend before holding onto his shoulders.

“Hey,” he calls out as he catches Changmin’s attention through the mirror. “I know that you’re worried about Y/N, but they’ll be fine. All they have is a fever. You though, you need to focus on your competition.”

“Okay but Y/N has never missed any of my competitions.”

Chanhee chuckles. “And you’ll be fine. You can always tell them about your win after, and I can record it just to show them.” But the thing is his best friend does not get why Changmin is worried about your absence.

He has been nervous about the competition since the morning came. But the idea of you being there provided him with immense comfort that he could tackle this. Without his lucky charm, he almost felt defenseless.

“I know you like them and all–”

“Huh?! That’s not the point!” Changmin quickly exclaims to cover up what Chanhee just babbled out. He whispers, “That’s not something you should be saying out loud.”

His best friend attempts to apologize. “Sorry! I just never see you act like this, so I thought all of this was coming from the fact that you like them now.”

Changmin only sighs as he looks back down to his hands that play with the hem of his shirt. “I don’t usually act like this because Y/N has always been present for every competition. And never once did the teams I joined place anything lower than silver.”

Chanhee cannot help but pout at him. “They’re almost like your lucky charm, is that it?” When he does not say anything, the best friend only sighs. “I don’t know if this will help, but why don’t you at least try to win without them? Instead of worrying about your missing lucky charm, take this opportunity to win this for them—for you, especially.”

Unbeknownst to the two, Sunwoo overheard a part of the conversation before he walked up to them. The two were briefly surprised by his sudden appearance. “Hey, you two,” he starts off before holding onto his best friend’s forearm who was seated on the chair.

“Changmin, I know you’re worried. If anything, I am too. I used to treat Y/N as my lucky charm since. They’ve been present for not only the dance competitions but my soccer tournaments in grade school.” He looks at Changmin with worried eyes. “There was this one time where Y/N didn’t show up because they got sick as well. On that day, I had a foul shot that caused the team’s chance to win.”

He sighs at the memory, remembering how much he cried to you on the landline. “In their comfort, they told me this: “You don’t need me to achieve the heights you’ve dreamed of.” And I think a part of me realized then that I put so much faith in someone who was only supporting me on the sidelines. At the end of everything, they want you to believe in yourself.”

As Sunwoo shares his memory with you, Changmin cannot help but think over the words you told Sunwoo. It is true that despite the skills he had, he always found himself second-guessing his capabilities as a dancer. And during the times he found himself doubting his abilities, you were always there to remind him of his worth. Not only did you do that for dance but even when you two still worked together for your high school’s publication. 

“Yeah, what matters most is that you win this, especially for yourself—this is your dream. No matter what happens, we will always be proud of you. We know how much time and effort you put into dance, and we’ll always marvel at what you do,” Chanhee speaks up. Since the conversation happened, Changmin finally found himself showing a small smile.

“Ah, there’s that smile,” Sunwoo points out, which only has Chanhee giggle. “C’mon, let’s just focus on making sure we get through this without any injuries. Win or lose, we still did well, okay?” Sunwoo raises his fist for his best friend to fist bump. Once he does so, Sunwoo smiles.

Chanhee smiles at the sight of him and his two best friends huddled together through the mirror. In the time he has gotten to know your friend group, he realized that all the bantering is just a coverup for how much love is shared between you three. Despite the quarrels and internal struggles, your friend group always remained firm in the idea that to love is to reestablish each person’s independence.

No matter how many times you three believe you cannot survive without one another, the reality is that the achievements achieved are all due to each person’s capability—it is just nice to know that there will always be people to support you from the sidelines. As Chanhee was dragged into your friend group, he found himself cared for and supported in every aspect.

He leans his head on Sunwoo’s shoulder as he continues to hold onto Changmin’s shoulder. Although Sunwoo was startled by the sudden movement, he noticed the smile on his best friend’s face. “You guys will be okay.” And with those words leaving Chanhee’s mouth, the two could not help but feel a heavy weight on their hearts be lifted.

Sitting on the couch in your living room, you were all wrapped up in a blanket as you tried to type away on your laptop. Not only were you disappointed about missing Changmin and Sunwoo’s performance, you were stressed about your article’s due date which was two days from now.

Despite how sick you felt, you still needed to work on the task at hand. It almost felt as if the upcoming deadline was breathing down on your neck. You would hate to cause an inconvenience for both your editor and co-writer. 

Your phone vibrates. Expecting to get a call from the delivery person who was bringing some samgyetang from your favorite restaurant, you see Chanhee is calling you. As soon as you answer, you say, “How did it go?” When you are met with a sigh on the other end of the line, you could feel your heart get heavy.

“Y/N, I don’t know where Changmin is.” You feel yourself sit up straight as your best friend reveals that information. “The competition didn’t turn out well—they ended up placing last out of the five groups who participated.” Your eyes close in sorrow.

For a moment, you hear some muffled sounds until another voice speaks up. “As soon as they revealed the results, he left,” Sunwoo let out a sigh. “We’ve been trying to contact him but it keeps going straight to voicemail.”

“We’re planning to check the athletics center first and the picnic where we usually hang out before deciding to check back at my place.” Once Chanhee says that, you let out a hum. “Do you have any other places in mind that you think he’d be at?”

“Uh, I think the park near your apartment complex would be good to check out,” you start off. As you tried to think of more places, you felt yourself hitting a mental wall—you were too worried about your best friend. “I-I don’t know where else he could be.” As you whisper those words, the unbearable weight on your heart is accompanied by claws that make it ache.

You could hear someone sigh for a moment. “Okay, if you ever think of more places, just message us. Tell us also if you get a message from him,” Sunwoo tells you.

“And don’t go looking out for him. I mean it.” Every part of you wanted to argue with Chanhee. But with his harsh tone, you realized there was nothing you can do in this state. He is right, you are sick—now is not the best time to go out.

While you tried to process the news, you were starting to blame yourself for getting sick. Especially after last night’s conversation with Changmin (and how he thought of you as his lucky charm), you could do nothing but feel guilt swallow you whole.

“Okay,” you finally whisper back. And somehow, your best friends started to notice how worried you were with how you said that one word.

With a sigh, Sunwoo says, “He’ll be okay. It was just a bad day.” Before you could say more, he cuts you off. “And it’s not your fault.” You feel your bottom lip quiver. “The other teams just presented a better performance in comparison to us—we would have never expected it. So don’t carry the blame, lucky charm.” As he calls you that term, your heart aches.

When you were first called that by him, you could remember the joy you felt. You loved to support your best friend in any way you can, even if it meant being treated as the one reassuring presence that made him feel like he was guaranteed success. But what came with being a lucky charm was also the burden of the title—having someone put all their faith in you when you had no control almost felt anxiety-inducing.

So when Changmin coined that term on you, you could not help but experience that feeling once more. That is until you learned that your absence was as coincidental as their team losing in the said competition. 

“Take care, alright?” As soon as Chanhee says that, you let out a hum. The call ends and you are left to stare off into the open space in your living room. Yet, not even a minute after, you hear the doorbell ring.

You stood up from the couch with your blanket still wrapped around you as you sluggishly walked towards the front door. When you swing it open, you expect to see a plastic bag filled with containers of the food you ordered. But when you see Changmin with a sorrowful expression holding onto the said plastic bag, your breath hitches at the sight.

Just at the sight of him, you decide against saying anything. With his shoes off, you only take a step to the side so that he could enter your place. You shut the door right after he enters and walk slowly to the boy who was placing your food on the kitchen counter. He was dressed up in an all-black outfit you could only presume to be the same outfit he performed in a few hours ago.

The silence is deafening; you are too afraid to let out a sound. As you watch your best friend keep his composure while he tries to prepare your food, dark limbs consume you and push you into a hole of guilt and sorrow. While he was still struggling to come to terms with placing last, he still was going out of his way to take care of you.

You took some steps forward so that you could be closer to him. While he opened containers containing samgyetang, kimchi, and more, you stood right behind him. And before he knows it, he feels your arms wrap around his waist and hug him from behind.

With that one simple action, he stopped whatever he was doing. You let your chin rest on his shoulder as you look down at his hands that were starting to tremble. As soon as you notice his head start to dip down, you knew he was going to cry. All while his body started to shake, you could only hug him.

“It’s okay,” you finally whisper to him.

It is rare to see Changmin cry. During your time growing up with him, you can only remember a few times when he shed a few tears; due to stress from school and his internship; when Gana went missing for a few days; times when he was frustrated with a choreography he could not get the hang of. But with the way he was shaking, you were not expecting just a few tears.

As soon as you spin the boy to face you, you could see tears streaming down his face. In an attempt to stop the waterfall and any wails, he bites on his bottom lip. And you realize that Changmin desperately needed to be cared for. You pulled him into another hug so that his face was snuggled into the crook of your neck.

With your best friend sobbing, you held him close. In these times, you started to understand what he meant last night—you are a place of solace for him just as he is for you.

Over the days you were sick, your best friends have been taking care of you—Chanhee mainly handles your medications, Changmin cooks or orders food for you, and Sunwoo takes your temperature and helps you out when it comes to using the bathroom.

Due to your physical state, Sunwoo had to tell Kevin that you were sick and unable to fully deliver in time for your deadline. As soon as he revealed that your editor would help Jacob in taking over for your assigned parts, guilt consumed you since you burdened them. But they were insistent on making sure that you got enough rest.

Stuck in bed, you were watching another episode of Knowing Brothers on your iPad while Sunwoo was scrolling on his phone. Your two other best friends were out of your place busy doing some groceries for you and themselves. As you watch the crew continue to joke around, your phone vibrates. Upon grabbing it, you notice a notification from Jacob.

Now sitting up, your eyes widen at the sight of his name. “What’s wrong?” You hear Sunwoo ask. While you ignore him, you decide to open up the conversation.

cobcob 🐰: hi y/n! i hope you’re okay :] please don’t stress about the article. you did a lot and i’m glad i got to work with you this semester!! cobcob 🐰: hopefully we can work together again for the second sem 💗 cobcob 🐰: or even hang out outside of student journalist duties :] y/n: thank u jacob </3 im very sorry about this T__T y/n: i will make it up to you by treating you to lunch! cobcob 🐰: don’t treat me to lunch!! it’s fine 💗 cobcob 🐰: instead, let me take you out

The moment you gasp causes Sunwoo to get closer to you and peer over your shoulder. Before you could scold him, he gasps as well. “DID HE JUST ASK YOU OUT?!”

“YAH!” You shove your best friend away. “I didn’t even allow you to read my conversation!”

“Oh my god, Y/N! Who cares! How much has progressed between you two?!” He exclaims as he starts shaking your arm. “Have you been keeping secrets from me?!”

You roll your eyes. “I haven’t! There’s just not much worth mentioning,” you admitted shyly.

“Liar,” your best friend says with a frown. “I bet Changmin knows everything.”

“He does.”

Sunwoo gasps and shoves you. “I was joking! But now that I’m finding out that it’s true, I’m hurt. I thought we were besties.”

You let out a sigh. “Then I’ll tell you. But I swear, it’s not much to begin with.” As he raises his eyebrows at you, you take it as a sign to continue. “I told you about what happened at the Halloween party, right?”

“Something happened?!”

You give him a shy smile. “Oops?” Your best friend gasps once more and smacks your arm. “I thought I told you!”

“Well, you didn’t! Does Chanhee know?” When you do not answer, your best friend frowns. “I cannot believe you are keeping secrets from me!”

You laugh and say, “I’m sorry! I’ll give you a full recap—no details will be left out.”

With that, you decided to tell him about the events that happened during Eric’s Halloween party to your supposed informal “date” over fried chicken and kimchi-jjigae. As you told the story, your best friend would gasp and smack your arm every time you revealed a new detail. Sunwoo cannot help but be impressed by how much had gone on.

“I still can’t believe you decided to not tell me.”

You pout in an attempt to earn his forgiveness. “To be fair, we weren’t hanging out much because of different schedules. And I don’t know, I wouldn’t think too much about it until… now.”

It is true—you were trying to find ways to believe that this is just Jacob being friendly. It felt impossible to believe that your crush was trying to pursue you. But with his most recent message, you started to realize that you were blind to his advances after all.

“Well, did you reply?” As soon as your best friend asks that question, your eyes widen. You quickly take a look back down on your phone to see some unread messages from Jacob. 

cobcob 🐰: if you don’t want to though, it’s fine! cobcob 🐰: just let me know 💗

“Oh god, what do I say?” You ask out loud as you point your phone towards Sunwoo.

Your best friend groans and says, “You are hopeless!” You frown as you face your phone back toward you. “Do you want to go on a date with him?”

“Yeah,” you shyly admit.

“Then you know your answer!”

You raise your hand to stop him from saying any more. “Okay, but I was telling Changmin this the other day that I don’t know what to feel towards him.”

“Okay, what’s the problem?”

You sigh as you look over the same message. “Honestly, I don’t know. I feel like I still idolize him, and I don’t know if I really connected with him during our time working together.” You look up to your best friend. “Like he’s nice and I really enjoy talking to him, but I really do think I put him on this pedestal. I would like to think of him as a friend, but a part of me still sees him as the senior I had a stupid crush on.”

Sunwoo only hums as he thinks over your words. “What did Changmin say?”

“He was saying I can take my time figuring it out really.” Your best friend hums once more.

“I don’t think a date will do any harm,” he starts off. “I mean, it might help you figure out what you want after all. And it’s not like you need to figure it out then and there.”

Your best friend had a point; you could go on a date without any expectation to understand your feelings after. You let out a sigh before looking down once more at your phone. Once you type out your message, you send it without looking back.

“Done!” You exclaim as you let yourself fall back down on the bed. “Can’t believe I’m going on a date with him.”

Sunwoo only smiles at you before he goes back to his phone. Unbeknownst to you, he messages Changmin about what just occurred between you and Jacob.

It is 3:34 PM. It has been a few hours since you replied to Jacob’s message. Now, you and your three best friends were watching 2 Days & 1 Night in the living room while waiting for the food to come.

You were wrapped in your blanket as you rested your head on Changmin’s lap while he rested his hand on your shoulder, rubbing it in a circular motion. With your eyes still trained on the television screen, you remain unaware of all the glances and smirks your two other best friends were shooting at Changmin.

“What do you guys have planned for winter break?” You decide to ask as you continue to watch the variety show.

“I’m going to Pyeongchang with my family,” Sunwoo shares as he looks at you and Changmin.

“My family hates snow, so we’re going to Malaysia.”

You hum at Chanhee’s answer before turning your body so that you could face Changmin. “What about you?”

“I think I’m just staying at Cheongju. My noonas are coming back home for the winter.”

You gasp as you sit up and say, “Yuna and Hanhee are coming home?! Oh my god, I miss them!”

During your high school years growing close with Changmin, his sisters have grown fond of your presence. Despite the age difference, Yuna and Hanhee have taken care of you as much as they do with their brother. You ended up being part of the Ji family with how much they cared for you during your years in high school.

“Yeah,” he says with a smile. “I haven’t seen them since 2nd-year winter break.”

Before you could say anything, Sunwoo decides to ask you a question. “Oh yeah, aren’t you supposed to be going to Japan for the break?” You shake your head before resting your back on the couch.

“It didn’t push through because my parents are going to be out of the country for a business trip,” you sigh. “I’m just going to be here rotting.”

“Really? You don’t have other relatives to spend the break with?” Chanhee asks you.

You shake your head with a sigh following. For most of your life, your parents have been attentive to you. However, when you started going to university, they grew busier due to more demand and obligations. You do not hold it against them for having to cancel the winter break plans—it had to be done and you knew there would be another time to go to Japan.

“Why don’t you try spending it with Changmin’s family?” Sunwoo suggests which makes you snap out of your thoughts. Before you could say anything, he says, “I mean, the Ji family does love you. What do you think, Changmin?”

You turn your head towards Changmin whose eyes were trained on Sunwoo and eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t want to intrude, really. I’ll be fine–”

“No, it’s okay,” your best friend cuts off. As he looks back at you, he shoots you a smile. “I’m sure my family would not mind having you for the winter break.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind staying here.”

Changmin rolls his eyes and says, “It’s okay, we love having you in the house.” You allow yourself to smile. “I’m sure they would love to see you after 2 years.”

With that, he wraps his arm around your waist and brings you closer to him. You rest your head on his shoulder and continue to watch the variety show playing on the screen, unaware of the smirks your two other friends had.

“Oh god, am I mixing this right?”

Jacob peers over your shoulder and looks at what you are doing. As soon as he sees the mess, he cannot hold back his laugh.

You exclaim as you look back at the boy behind you. “Are you laughing?!”

“You’re fine! It’s just that I thought you overmixed but it’s very undermixed.”

Before you continue with the task at hand, you roll your eyes. “I barely bake, okay?” You shoot a playful glare at the boy who stood beside you who was mixing up the frosting.

“And I don’t bake, too!” He attempts to defend himself and then nudges your shoulder. “But you have to admit, this is fun.” You cannot help but smile.

It has been a week since Jacob asked you out on a date. You were able to recover from your fever thanks to your friends (which was honestly just an excuse for them to have a slumber party at your place). It was fun though—you kind of miss having them in your place.

Now, you were in a bakery that Jacob would frequent. He grew closer to the couple that runs it due to his visits. And somehow, he managed to reserve the kitchen for only you two to use (under the supervision of the owners, of course).

You could not lie—the date is cute. It is not the usual “dine-and-talk” that you have heard some of your friends go on. When Sunwoo went on his first date back in high school, you could remember how you and Changmin helped him plan it out.

“I don’t know what to do!” Sunwoo exclaims as he looks through his clothes. He moved every hanger, unsatisfied with every piece of clothing he had.

You and Changmin were lounging on Sunwoo’s twin bed with homework out while your best friend was having a dilemma. “I still can’t believe you managed to ask out Soojin,” you voice out as you were scribbling down the scientific names of common flowers. You nudge Changmin and ask, “Is this right?”

He takes a peek at your homework and lets out a chuckle. “You misspelled it. It’s Leucadendron—not Lucadeldron.” You roll your eyes as you erase your mistake.

“Science is not for me,” you say as you write the correct spelling.

“Yeah, well we all knew that,” Sunwoo mumbles under his breath as he still looks at his closet.

“Yah!” You grab a pillow and throw it at the guy. “Don’t you want us to help you?”

He turns around and frowns at you and Changmin. “I do, but you two aren’t even trying!” He points at the papers scattered on his bed. “How are you helping me if you’re studying?!”

Changmin sighs before dropping his pencil and getting off the bed. “Okay, what do you have in mind for tomorrow? Do you know where you’re going to take her?” As soon as Sunwoo shakes his head, you could only laugh in disbelief.

“You don’t have an idea?” Once you ask that, his eyes throw daggers in your direction. “I’m just shocked! To be fair, you have liked this girl since, so I thought you had something in mind.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t,” he sighs as he takes a seat on his bed. “This is terrible! I don’t want my first date to go bad.”

You and Changmin share a look as Sunwoo continues to wallow in anxiety. The two of you knew how much this means to your best friend. Who would not panic over going on a date with their long-time crush—let alone a first date? While Sunwoo was lost in his thoughts, Changmin pointed at his closet, giving you a silent signal that he would take care of his outfit.

“Okay, we’ll help you!” You scoot closer to Sunwoo and rest your hand on his shoulder. “Does she like to play board games? You can take her to the board game restaurant we always go to.”

“She doesn’t like playing board games.” He scratches the back of his neck. “She’s very competitive, and you know me.”

You sigh as you watch Changmin pull out a nice button-up shirt. “Well, does she like the aquarium?”

“She’s scared of fish.” As he says that, you tilt your head in confusion. “I don’t know. She once mentioned that she’s scared of the glass breaking.”

“Okay, can’t judge her entirely for that,” you chuckled under your breath as you thought about it more. You look over at Changmin who now holds three different hangers of clothing and decide to joke. “Changmin, do you have any ideas? Perhaps you’ve gone on a date?”

Your best friend looks over at you two as he still holds up some hangers of clothing. “Uh, yeah.” As he says that, your eyes widen in shock.

“You have?!” Sunwoo exclaims which has Changmin rolling his eyes.

“I was a sophomore when I went on a date with someone from the math honors society,” he answers as he raises a pair of jeans to envision the look he has in mind.

You gaped at him, in shock over what he revealed. “Goddamn, I thought you were bitchless.” Sunwoo cannot help but laugh beside you.

“Hey, that’s a good one.” As the two of you high-five, Changmin frowns.

“Yah! I’m not gonna give date ideas. You two figure it out,” he says as he continues to flip through whatever is in Sunwoo’s closet.

“No! C’mon, please! We won’t bully you anymore,” Sunwoo begs, only to be met with a sighing Changmin.

He looks over at the two of you once more who sat on the bed. “What does she like?”

Sunwoo hummed as he thought it over. “Well, she likes books, music, scrapbooking, and food.”

“Hm, you could bring her to the antique bookstore that Y/N and I always go to,” Changmin suggests only to earn a frown from Sunwoo. “Oh, I forgot that you hate reading.”

You tongue the inside of your cheek. “Well, you could also opt for a picnic date with some scrapbooking?” Your best friends look at you with eyebrows raised. “I mean, I should have some extra materials to spare since I stopped journaling.” When they continue to stare at you, you frown. “Jeez, don’t take my suggestion!”

“No, it’s good!” Changmin quickly says as he hangs the clothing pieces on the door for them to see. “I think this fit would be good for a picnic—fresh look!” The look is a navy blue collar shirt and a white tank top paired with beige jeans.

Sunwoo hums at the sight. “Damn, you guys are good with this, especially you,” he says as he looks at you.

Your eyebrows shoot up in confusion. “Me?”

“Yeah.” Changmin walks to the bed and goes back to answering his homework. “I wish I thought of doing that with someone,” he mutters under his breath.

You shrug and roll over. “To be fair, it’s something I would like. I don’t know if it is up Soojin’s alley, but it's worth a shot!”

Before you and Changmin could go back to work, Sunwoo jumps on you two which has you groaning. “Thanks, by the way. Once you guys go on future dates, I’ll help you out.”

You could only laugh as you continue to write some nonsensical names. “The day I go on a date is the day we know that nothing is real. Ain’t no way I’m finding love.”

And a few years later, you still could not believe you are on your first official date. Sunwoo did pull through; picking out some clothes; telling you what to do; easing your anxiety for the most part. You would have looped in Changmin for this but he was busy with schoolwork as finals season is approaching.

Since your best friends took care of you, you have not heard from him in a while. All you would get were short responses and excuses about why he could not talk or see you. You do not hold it against him though—he needed this time to focus on his thesis anyway.

“There we go!” Jacob exclaims as he looks over at your mixing bowl. “That looks good. We can pour it into the baking pan.” Once you nod, he moves the tray closer for you to pour into. Ever so slowly, the mixture created beautiful folds. The sight alone made you hungry.

“I’m so tempted to eat this cake batter up.” He laughs and takes the tray.

“We can’t have that happening! You need to wait,” he says as he walks closer to the oven that was preheated before you two started. You walk towards him to help in opening the oven so that he could place it in.

As soon as you shut it close, Jacob raises his hand for a high-five. “We did good,” you say as you high-five him back. “Hopefully, it turns out good.”

Jacob shrugs and says, “And if it doesn’t, I’d still be glad that we did this.” You only show him a small smile.

Everything in you wanted to agree with him. And yet, you hate that you could not agree with him wholeheartedly. You knew that your two best friends told you that you did not need to figure out your feelings for Jacob right after the first date. But oddly enough, you felt like pushing forward with him is almost like pushing mountains—unable to budge.

But it is not fair to completely shut him out without giving him another chance. At the end of everything, you want your first boyfriend to be him—you just needed time to rethink what you wanted. With that, you whisper, “Yeah, me too,” in hopes that all would be figured out.

At long last, you were done with the first semester. Oddly enough, you found yourself concluding finals season on a good note; saying goodbye to good groupmates and professors; acing projects you worked hard on; leaving classes with so much learned. The journey was not easy (and you would never want to experience it again), but you knew the next semester would be just as difficult.

Winter break came a week ago. Although Chanhee and Sunwoo already packed their bags and left as soon as it started, Changmin said that you two would leave as soon as the second week came in at the request of his parents. You did not mind waiting around, really. If anything, you were glad that you would be able to join them for the holidays.

It is 4:34 PM when you and Changmin arrive at Cheongju. As you take a deep breath of the air, you smile. It has been 2 years since you last stepped foot in this place. You notice that when you exhale, you see the air due to the cold temperature.

“Oh, I missed being here,” you mutter to yourself as you hold onto a hand-carry that carries your clothes for your seven-day stay in the Ji household. As you hear Changmin hum, you whip your head in his direction. For a moment, you swear he had his eyes on you briefly, but he was only looking off into the distance.

“Yeah,” he says with a small smile on his face. He fishes out his phone from his pocket and looks through his notifications. “I think Yuna noona should already be here. Let’s go to the pickup area.”

With that, you two drag your small luggage and make your way out of the train station to the curbside pickup point. Dozens of cars were lined up; some from those who resided in Cheongju while most were taxis. While Changmin was busy trying to get ahold of his sister, you stood close to him.

You have not told Changmin about what went down on your date with Jacob. The last time you talked about him was when you told your friends about him asking you on a date.

“So, I have some news to share with you all.”

You and your friends were sitting by the kitchen island with platters of gopchang and gimbap along with a bowl of ox bone soup. Since you were well from your fever, this would be the last night your friends were going to spend at your place. Everyone decided that today’s dinner should be good.

“What news?” Sunwoo asks with food in his mouth.

You say with furrowed eyebrows, “About my thing with Jacob.” Unbeknownst to you, your friends were already aware of what you were referring to.

“Your date with Jacob?”

As he says those words, you squeal before grabbing your phone. Once you open up your conversation with your crush, you hand off your phone to Changmin who is seated beside you. “I can’t believe he asked me out!”

Chanhee sighs and says, “I hate to break it to you, but Sunwoo already told us a few days ago.” With that revelation, you gasp.

“Are you serious, Kim Sunwoo?! I wanted to tell them!” You whine with your arms crossed.

The boy gives you a sheepish smile. “I just wanted to share the good news.” You roll your eyes at his response.

“I’m not going to tell you anything at this rate.”

With a pout on his face, he whines, “No! Don’t keep stuff from me, please.”

Before you could say anything, Changmin hands you your phone. “I’m happy for you,” he whispers with a small smile. You do not think much of his response, but when you notice your other best friends’ eyes on him, you cannot help but overthink.

When he continues to eat his food, the table falls into silence. For once, it was not comfortable at all.

Although you found yourself thinking about his reaction, you told yourself to not get too lost in your thoughts. There is no reason for you to rethink his words when all he has done is be honest with you. And if he was not ready to share something with you, you would be respectful of his boundaries.

Before you could get lost in your thoughts, you hear someone call out your name. “Y/N-ah!” As you look in the direction of where that sound came from, you see Yuna in a padded jacket. She stood by her car with a big smile on her face.

Without a thought, you grab onto Changmin’s hand with your free hand and jog to her. “Yuna! I’ve missed you!” You exclaim as you let go of your best friend’s hand and pull her into a hug.

“And I’ve missed you,” she responds as she holds you close to her. “I can’t believe it has been more than three years since I last saw you.”

Once you two let go of each other, she smiles at her brother and grabs onto his arm. “C’mon, give me a hug as well.” Although he rolls his eyes the moment she wraps her arms around him, he allows himself to melt in the hug. You knew how much he missed his sisters even if he would never admit it to them.

As soon as the two stop hugging each other, Yuna claps her hands. “C’mon, let’s get in the car. Eomma has been waiting for you two since the break started.”

As she gets in the driver’s seat, you and Changmin go to the trunk to stow away your luggage. Once you open it, Changmin grabs onto your luggage. “Let me,” he says. Before you could protest, he pulls it away from you and places your luggage neatly before he sets his down beside yours.

You smile at him the moment he closes the trunk. “Thanks.” All he does is smile and nudge your shoulder.

“You can pay me back by doing all my chores.”

“Yah!” As you scowl, all he does is laugh.

“Eomma! Y/N and Changmin are here!” Yuna calls out while she tries to remove her shoes. “You can put your shoes here,” she tells you as she points at the shoe rack. As you and Changmin set your shoes aside, she opens the door for you three. Before she goes off, she says, “I’ll just find eomma.”

When you first step into the Ji household, you notice that everything is almost the same as when you last visited; the walls were still off-white and littered with picture frames of the family throughout the years; the soban is the same one you remember stubbing your toe against during the dinners you were invited to; the aura that emits from being in this household is still as homey as ever.

A rush of nostalgia fills you—your heart aches nicely as you remember your memories in this home. But before you can reminisce, something snarls. Your eyes set on a poodle who runs in your direction, barking non-stop at you.

“Gana!” Your best friend exclaims as he crouches in front of his dog. Although the poodle continues to snarl at you, he only smiles as he holds his dog close to his chest. “I’ve missed you so much.”

You sigh with a frown on your face. “I think Gana forgot about me. He was never this aggressive back when I would visit.”

He only laughs as he continues to shower Gana with love. “I don’t think he ever liked you.” When he says those words, you gasp.

“Well, I don’t like him either!”

“That is a lie and we all know it. You want him to love you as much as he loves me,” he says as pets Gana.

Before you could say anything, you were interrupted by someone’s squeal. “Y/N-ah!” Your eyes rip away from the two and land on Changmin’s mom who is already rushing to you.

“Eomeoni!” You manage to say before she pulls you into a hug.

“What did I tell you about calling me that? Just call me eomma,” she says before letting you go. She pinches your cheeks with a big smile on her face. “Ah, you’ve grown so much since I last saw you.”

It is true. The last time you saw her was when you and Sunwoo graduated from high school. Changmin found time to go back home just in time to celebrate his best friends’ graduation. On that night, your families gathered for dinner to celebrate everything—whether small or big. You could remember that a few weeks later, you and Sunwoo had to pack your bags so that you could move to your apartments situated close to the university.

You smile at her and say, “Eomma, you’re still as young as when I last saw you.” With such flattery, she cannot help but grin at you.

As she lets go of your cheek, she shoots a smile at her son. “Changmin-ah,” she says while walking closer to him. Your best friend lets go of his dog and smiles at her. The moment he hugs her, you cannot help but feel your heart warm at the sight.

“Ah, you’re still as handsome as ever,” she coos, which has him blushing in embarrassment.

With a shy smile on his face, he says, “Eomma, you don’t need to say that in front of Y/N.” All you can do is giggle at your embarrassed friend while his mother ignores his request.

“Y/N-ah,” she says as she lets go of him. “You’ll be sleeping in Changmin’s room while he’ll sleep in the living room.”

Your eyes widen in shock as you attempt to protest. “Eomma, it’s okay! I’ll be fine sleeping in the living room.” She shakes her head as she grabs onto your hand.

“No, I already talked about this with Changmin on the phone. He said it’s fine.” As she reveals that information, you look at your best friend who only smiled at you. With a pout on your face, Changmin’s mom drags you to his room while you hold onto your luggage.

As she opens the door to Changmin’s room, you are met with the same room you stayed after every dismissal time. “I cleaned up a bit, but I didn’t want to mess with Changmin’s things,” his mom admits as you take a step into his room.

Similar to the rest of the household, nothing changed; the single bed that you, Changmin, and Sunwoo would work on was still pressed up against the wall; the black oak bookshelf that held his old books still had the carvings you three would leave every once in a while; the corkboard that hung on the wall still had pictures and tokens throughout his grade school and high school years; the wall mounted shelf that held his trophies and medals. In this room, you could see Changmin in every corner—the one you got to know back in high school and the one who you cared for even until now.

“Changmin might come in every once in a while to get some clothes, but I’ll make sure he respects your privacy.”

You let out a laugh at what she says. “Eomma, it’s okay. I don’t mind him bothering me. If anything, I need to thank him and you for allowing me to stay for the break.”

She gives you another smile and says, “Anytime.” She pinches your cheek once more (to which you smile) and walks out of the room, closing the door behind her.

You leave your hand-carry by the door as you look around the room once more. As you walk to the corkboard littered with photographs, you can spot ones with you and Sunwoo in them. Ranging from competitions to the first days of school, you smile at how much you three have grown through the years—from old uniforms and shabby haircuts to stylish clothing and redefined faces.

As your eyes scan through the other tokens such as ticket stubs and receipts, you spot cutouts of your articles along with his pictures that accompanied yours. Just from the sight, you cannot help but feel your heartstrings tug. You always knew he did this with your past collaborations, but seeing it after a while never fails to make you smile.

Although you try to rest your hand on the desk, your hand ends up hitting the handle of the drawer. You raise your head in pain and hiss at the sudden impact. “Shit,” you mutter to yourself.

Your eyes settle down on the drawer that is now slightly open. You were going to close it—you are not the type to snoop. But when you notice a paper that has the name of your university’s publication at the bottom corner, your hand reaches out to open the drawer further.

You could not believe what you were seeing—it is a cutup of your article on hustle culture in organizations. As your hand grabs onto it, you notice that there are more pieces of paper. While you sift through the cutouts, you realize it is all your articles during your time in the university’s publication.

Throughout your university life, you were always under the impression that Changmin would read your pieces—never keep them like how he did back in high school. And yet to see the stack of cutouts that had your byline had you like ice cream on a hot day. There were no right words to describe what you are feeling now for you did not even understand it. 

Still in shock, you stack them neatly in the drawer before shutting it close. Before you could recollect your thoughts, you hear the door swing open.

“Y/N?” Changmin calls out as his head peeks out. As he notices your shocked expression, he frowns. “Are you okay?”

You quickly show him a smile. “Yeah, I was just looking at the photos,” you lie as you point at the corkboard. “I can’t believe we were so young.”

He chuckles as he steps in, taking in his childhood room. Once he stands beside you, he takes a good look at his corkboard full of memories. “Do you remember when we took this?” With his finger pointing at a certain photograph, you cannot help but smile.

The picture was of you, Changmin, and Sunwoo having a picnic during the winter season—red noses and snowflakes on everyone’s hair. All dressed in padded jackets, you can remember how your fingers were about to fall off from the cold while you three attempted to do some scrapbooking.

“God, why did we even do that?”

Changmin nudges your shoulder. “Because you talked about wanting to go on a picnic before, remember?”

Once you look at him, you notice that he was already smiling at you. “For a date! And it didn’t have to be in the fucking cold,” you say as you roll your eyes.

“Hey, you still enjoyed it!” He exclaims to which you only sigh in defeat. It is true—you can remember how you almost cried over your friends preparing that picnic for you.

You used to be bothered by your uneventful love life (even if you did complain every once in a while). But when you remember what your friends did to remind you of their love for you, you realize that it is not bad to have nothing going on—you always have them to keep you company when you need it.

Before you could say anything, Changmin let out a sigh. “C’mon, we’re about to have dinner.” He grabs your hand before shooting you another smile. “I’m sure everyone wants to know everything about you.” You wish you could pinpoint the reason behind your heartstrings tugging. 

Everyone was gathered around the soban which carried a hearty spread of kimchi, bulgogi, jjajangmyeon, and yukgaejang. The sight of these deliciously prepared dishes had your mouth watering, but the smell of it all is to die for. Aside from the times Changmin has cooked you food when you were sick, you cannot remember the last time you had a homemade meal.

“Please, go eat!” Changmin’s dad says as he hands Changmin the bowl of spicy beef broth.

As you grin at his parents, you do not notice your best friend grabbing your bowl to pour some yukgaejang for you. You cannot help but stare at him as he pours the perfect amount of soup for you to eat.

“Thanks,” you whisper as he hands you back your bowl.

He shoots you a small smile before proceeding to do the same with everyone else. “Yah, that’s too much!” Yuna exclaims, which causes her brother to stop putting any more soup into her bowl. “You know how much Y/N wants but not how much I want?”

“Yuna noona, I don’t see you all the time,” he attempts to defend himself as he pours himself some soup while she berates him.

You wish you could comment—a bowl of soup should not mean that much. And yet, you cannot help but stare down at the bowl that holds the perfect amount for you.

“Hey, let’s not have this happen in front of our guest.” Changmin’s dad tries to break the quarrel. “Come on,” he says as he grabs the bowl of yukgaejang from his son. “I’ll take care of me and your eomma.”

Once Yuna was done grabbing some jjajangmyeon for herself, she passed the bowl to her brother. “What time is unnie and Byungho oppa coming home?” She asks while she places some bulgogi on her plate.

When Changmin grabs the right amount of black bean noodles for you, you give him a shy smile. “You know, you can get yourself some food first. I can handle getting my own.” All he does is shake his head, ignoring your request.

“Both of them should be arriving early in the morning,” Changmin’s dad says before taking a sip of the soup. “Ah, another good meal prepared by eomma.” As he says those words, your best friend’s mom cannot help but smile. You cannot help but smile at the sight of them in love.

After Changmin grabs his serving of jjajangmyeon, he takes the platter of bulgogi and places a few pieces on your plate before his. “Let me know if you ever want more,” he says before handing it off to his parents.

You shoot him a small smile before grabbing onto your bowl. Once you take a sip of the yukgaejang, you cannot help but moan—the spicy beef broth coats your tongue that has you hissing out of joy. “Eomma, it’s so good,” you say before taking another sip of the soup.

Changmin’s mom grins at you and says, “Thank you! Please eat well.”

As you all ate to your hearts’ and bellies’ contents, the Ji family would interview you and Changmin about all that has happened over the years. In the same way you expect to be bombarded with questions every time you visit your parents, you do not get overwhelmed by the interrogation. That is until the spotlight is put on your best friend.

“Changmin-ah, you’re already in your senior year—are you not dating anyone?” His mom asks which has him choking on his soup.

After you pat his back while he coughs, he says, “Eomma, I’ve been busy with school and dance.” As he says those words, his mother frowns.

“But what will happen after you graduate? College is the time to find that perfect someone!”

“Or maybe he’s still hung up on Suyeon,” Yuna snickers before taking a bite of her bulgogi.

Ji Suyeon—the girl from the math honors society that Changmin went on a date with. After he revealed to you and Sunwoo about his first date, you two did not stop interrogating him. What came as a big shock to Sunwoo is that he has gone on multiple dates with her—from dine-and-talks to board game ones.

But the biggest shocker for you is that they were together for a few weeks. When your best friend spoke of his past relationship, he did not hold any ill feelings toward her. The two ended their relationship on mutual terms—their priorities did not line up.

“Hey, I’m not!” Your best friend attempts to defend himself with a frown on his face. “I haven’t even thought about her in years.” Yuna only shrugs before going back to eating.

“Y/N-ah,” Changmin’s mom calls out, which has you looking at her. “You’re always with him. Does no one find him attractive there?”

You scratch the back of your head and manage to say a few words, “Uh, I’m sure people do find him handsome. But I wouldn’t know too much since he hasn’t mentioned anything.” With a sheepish smile on your face, you cannot help but feel your face burn at calling your best friend good-looking right in front of him and his family.

“Eomma,” he whines after taking a sip of his soup. “I’m not interested in anyone right now. If anything, aren’t you happy that I’m focused on my studies?”

She sighs, “But I don’t want you to be lonely. Did you know that your dad and I met in college?”

“Eomma, we know.” Yuna shakes her head as she grabs some more bulgogi. “You always talk about it.”

As soon as Changmin’s mom shoots a look at her husband, he sighs. “Your mom is only looking out for you, okay? She just doesn’t want you to miss out on finding the love of your life.”

Their son sighs at their words. For a moment, you do not know if you should step in and back him up. With your eyes on his side profile, you notice that he is deep in thought. But when he turns his head to face you, you feel yourself crumble under his stare.

“I’m happy with Y/N.” You cannot help but feel your eyes widen. Staring right back at him, you do not know what to make of his words. But he does not allow you to think about it as he chokes out the words, “And with the other friends I have.” He looks back at his family. “I’m sure I’ll figure it out, so no need to worry.”

With a smile on his face, his parents eventually let go of the topic. Although they continue to talk about the other things happening in their lives, you still find your mind pondering on the first half of his words.

It is 10:15 AM. You were in the kitchen helping Changmin’s mom prepare some kimchi for the next month. Although she kept denying your help, you kept insisting by saying that it is only right to help out with anything at home since they allowed you to stay over for the holidays.

“Like this, eomma?” You ask as you show her the cabbage coated in kimchi paste.

She looks at your work and nods. “You’re doing it right! Cover it in more paste and it will be good.” You follow her instructions and continue to coat the other cabbage leaves with the same amount of paste. “How are your parents?”

You look up at her with a small smile on your face. “They’re okay. I called them last night, and they wanted to thank you again for having me over.”

“Don’t even worry about it,” she says as she shakes her head. “I consider you family—whenever you need me, I’ll be there for you.”

You cannot help but smile at her words. It is true—Changmin’s mom has always been there for you and Sunwoo whenever you needed her. Even after Changmin graduated from high school, you two always found themselves in the Ji household. There were cases where your parents could not have dinner with you which meant eating with Changmin’s parents. You are thankful for them—they are your second family.

The sounds of her favorite radio station accompanied you two as you work. While you were focused on preparing the kimchi, you do not notice when someone enters the kitchen. “I thought you’d be more happy to see me.” When you look up, you cannot help but gasp at the person’s presence.

“Hanhee!” You exclaim as you quickly stand up from your seat. As she wraps her arms around you, you try to hug her back while making sure that no kimchi paste gets on her. “I’ve missed you so much.”

As she lets go of you, you see a big smile on her face. “My bestie, I’ve missed you.” You step aside so that her mom could hug her as well.

“My Hanhee,” she says as she gives her daughter a big hug. “Have you settled in already?”

Once Hanhee nods, the three of you take a seat. “So, how are you, Y/N? Is my brother still causing you trouble?” You can only laugh as you coat a cabbage leaf with kimchi paste.

“Well… he’s definitely something,” you speak as you work. “But I’m doing very well. He’s been a big help.” Hanhee hums as she watches you and her mom make some more kimchi. “What about you? How are you?”

She gives you two a smile before saying, “Surprisingly, I’m very happy where I am. Work can be stressful but… at least my fiancé is there to support me.”

“Fiancé?! You and Byungho are engaged?!” As you gasp, Changmin’s mom cannot help but laugh.

“Hanhee and Byungho recently got engaged,” she says as she removes her plastic gloves. “I’ll go get the container while you two talk.” As soon as she leaves the kitchen, Hanhee shoots you a smile.

“I’m so happy for you.”

She lets out a happy sigh. “I know, I can’t believe he proposed. Who would’ve expected that I would marry my best friend?”

As she says those words, your mind cannot help but drift to Changmin. The idea of him all dressed up in a suit as he stands by the—wait, why were you thinking about this? You briefly frown and shake your head at the thought.

“Honestly, you and Byungho are soulmates,” you say with a smile in an attempt to cover up for whatever had you in your thoughts.

She chuckles before asking, “Do you think my brother is your soulmate?” You cannot help but physically reel at her question which has her laughing. “Like, platonic soulmate, you know?”

You bite the inside of your cheek as you ponder her words. Changmin has always been your best friend—the reason why you are able to keep on going. In the same way Byungho and Hanhee support each other, you two always look out for each other. But would it be right to call him your soulmate?

Before you could answer, Yuna and Changmin came into the kitchen. “Hanhee noona,” your best friend says as he hugs his sister. “Where’s Byungho hyung?”

“Already looking for him? Why don’t you spend time with your noona?” Hanhee teases as she keeps her arms wrapped around him.

Yuna takes a seat beside you as she looks at the kimchi. “Wow, Y/N is helping eomma out while Changmin is lounging around.” She clicks her tongue which causes Changmin to frown at her.

“Hey, I didn’t know!” He attempts to defend himself. “Eomma usually doesn’t let me help out when it comes to kimchi.”

Hanhee shakes her head as she finally lets go of her brother. “Look at Y/N doing all that they can to help out while your lazy ass is just spending time with Gana.”

“To be fair, Gana misses me.”

“Gana misses everyone,” Yuna says as she rolls her eyes. “Why don’t you go help out appa and Byungho oppa outside?”

Changmin frowns at you three before saying, “I hate you three.” As soon as he leaves the kitchen, you and his sisters cannot help but laugh.

“It’s always so fun to rile him up,” Hanhee laughs.

“Honestly, it’s one of my favorite things to do every time we come back here.” Yuna smiles at you two. “Anyway, unnie, tell me what has been going on with you!” As the three of you talk about anything and everything, you do not forget about Hanhee’s question. For now, you will shove it to the back of your mind.

The next day comes. You and Changmin were on your way to pick up some food from a restaurant you two used to frequent back in high school. Since his mom had stuff to attend to, everyone agreed that it would be fine to have some takeout for today’s lunch. Although your best friend was supposed to go alone, you thought it would be good to join along (mainly because you wanted to explore the city with him as well).

“God, it still looks the same,” you say as you two were walking with linked arms. As you pass by the old mart you, Sunwoo, and Changmin would go to after school, you cannot help but gasp. “Even the mart is the same!”

Your best friend rolls his eyes over your excited behavior but cannot hide the smile that shows on his lips. “You’ve been gone for two years; I don’t think too much can change.”

“You never know!” You nudge your best friend’s shoulder. “Two years ago, I was still under the impression that Hanhee and Byungho were still girlfriend and boyfriend—not engaged.”

He shakes his head and lets out a sigh. “To be fair, I think we all expected that they would end up marrying each other.”

Before you could say anymore, you two finally arrived in front of the restaurant. The exterior of it still looked the same but old; the paint has chipped off of the letters; the wood’s color resembles sand; the fairy lights did not shine as brightly as they used to. And yet, you cannot help but smile at the place that sheltered your friend group.

As soon as Changmin swings the door open, you attempt to unlink your arm with his so that you could enter first. And yet, he makes sure that his hand still holds onto your arm. You cannot help but feel your heart warm at the action. Your best friend has always been the clingy type, so why are you feeling all of these now?

The moment you two enter, he links his arm once more with yours. The restaurant is small, only having six tables with each one having two chairs of their own. It seemed that there were only five customers in as they ate away on their tteokbokki and ramyeon. The cashier is manned by the one and only person who your friend group has grown close to over the high school years. Once his eyes trail up towards you two, the shock on his face is one for the books.

“Y/N-ah!” Minho, the owner of the restaurant, exclaims as he makes his way towards you. As soon as he reaches you, he wraps his arms around you two. You cannot help but melt in the hug. As soon as he lets go of you two, he looks at the boy who went back to linking arms with you and says, “Of course, Changmin! Oh, you grow even more handsome every time I see you.” Your best friend cannot help but give him a small smile.

“I’ve missed you, harabeoji.” As you pout, Minho cannot help but pinch your cheek.

“We’re here to pick up the food my dad ordered,” Your best friend says as he holds you close to his side.

Minho nods with a smile on his face. “Of course.” He makes his way back to the counter which you two follow. “It’s so nice to see you after so long,” he says as he grabs onto a plastic bag. “I see that time still treats you two well.” As he points at your linked arms, you cannot help but tilt your head in confusion. “I mean, I’m happy to see that you guys are together! I never knew you two liked each other that way.”

As soon as he says those words, your eyes widen. This cannot be happening again—what changed between you and Changmin to come off as a couple to almost everyone? You look at your best friend who stood beside you with a flustered expression.

“Ah no, it’s not like that,” he coughs out before grabbing onto the plastic bag that held containers of tteokbokki.

Once you look at Minho, you notice a disappointed expression on his face. “Oh, I see. But I’m still happy to see you two are still friends!”

Despite his attempt to clear up the awkward air, you cannot deny the unsettling feeling in your stomach. With people questioning the nature of your relationship with Changmin (along with the news of Minhee’s and Byungho’s engagement), you were not sure if what you have with him is platonic as you make it out to be.

It should not matter though. Whatever you have with Changmin is your business—not anyone else’s. What if your best friend always found himself linking arms with you? What if your best friend always takes care of you whenever you are drunk? What if your best friend still keeps newspaper clippings of what you write?

And what if you crave his presence? What if you care so much about what he feels? What if you cherish all of his competitions and wins? What if you did think of Changmin as your soulmate? But none of these should matter—what you two have is perfectly platonic. 

“Well, how long are you two staying here?” Minho snaps you out of your thoughts

With a bitter smile, your best friend says, “We’re only here until the end of this week.”

Minho cannot help but pout at his revelation. “I see,” he sighs. “But it’s still nice to see you, Y/N, especially after all these years.”

You shoot him a smile before saying, “Harabeoji, this might not be the last time I see you.” You take a quick glance at your best friend who seemed to have his eyes on you. “I’m sure Changmin and I can go here once more before we leave.”

“Ah, that’s my Y/N—still as caring as ever.” Your smile gets bigger as he says those words. “Tell your parents I say hi,” he tells your best friend to which he nods.

As soon as you two bid farewell to Minho, you make your way out of the restaurant, arms still linked with each other. Although the silence should have been comfortable, you cannot deny that Minho’s comment had you wondering about your relationship.

When the night comes, you are seated beside Changmin on his futon while Yuna, Hanhee, and Byungho stay on the couch. Changmin’s parents decided to call the day early and went to sleep early. It has been a while since you five last hung out together like this (while still missing Sunwoo).

“Sunwoo is pulling bitches?!” With the way Yuna exclaims, you cannot help but burst into laughter and lean on your best friend while Hanhee smacks her arm.

“Yah! Don’t be too loud when you curse!” The sister scowls before leaning back into the arms of her fiancé. Yuna frowns at her sister as she rubs on the spot where she was smacked. “But I can’t believe our little Sunwoo has grown up.”

You roll your eyes as you rest your chin on your best friend’s shoulder. “Barely,” you mutter, which only has Changmin chuckling. “He is unfortunately still as immature as he was in high school. I don’t know what people see in him.”

“I can only imagine,” Hanhee sighs. “But enough about Sunwoo, what about you? Has anyone stolen your little heart?”

When she raises that question, you cannot help but feel your cheeks get warm. As soon as the two sisters notice your flustered expression, they gasp. “Y/N! What have you been keeping from us?!” Hanhee exclaims, which makes Yuna scowl at her.

“I thought we agreed to not be too loud!”

Hanhee rolls her eyes and says, “Yeah, but that was before I found out that Y/N has a boyfriend!”

You lift your chin from Changmin’s shoulder and shake your head. “It’s not a boyfriend.”

“But it’s still someone, right?” Yuna shows you a teasing smile.

You feel your breath hitch in your throat. Jacob Bae is that supposed someone to you, right? So why could you not find it within yourself to answer the question?

“He’s a 5th-year student who works in the university’s newspaper,” your best friend takes over as he grabs hold of your hand that rests on the space between you two. Your heart warms at the action. “They’ve only gotten closer this year.”

The two sisters hum at the information their brother shares. “A senior, huh? I’m impressed,” Yuna says before looking at Hanhee. “Wasn’t Byungho oppa a senior when you first met him?”

The sister nods as she looks at her fiancé. “Yeah,” she mutters as the two smile at each other.

In that shared moment, your mind wanders off to how nice it would be to be secured in the idea of having an “each other.” Although you have accepted a possible reality where you will be forced to work to the bone, a part of you longed to still have someone who you could go back home to—you wish for a future where there will always be a place of solace curated just for you.

“For your information, your sister and I are only a year apart,” Byungho says as he finally rips his gaze away from Hanhee to look at Yuna. “But yes, I was a senior in high school. Imagine if Hanhee joined the chess club earlier—maybe we could’ve been together for longer.”

“Not even! I used to hate your guts when I first joined,” Hanhee argues despite Byungho’s arms still wrapped around her figure.

The fiancé chuckles before he snuggles his face into the side of her neck. “But we’re here after nine years—isn’t that funny to think about?” And truth be told, it is comical for you all in this room. Who would have imagined that the cocky (but loser) senior wooed the cold-hearted junior?

“God, get a room!” Yuna frowns as she throws a pillow at the two. “Ruined the mood for all of us single people here—aka me and Changmin.”

You pout at her before saying, “I’m also single.”

“Okay, but you have your senior!” She rolls her eyes as she stands up from the couch. “You all suck, I’m going to dip.” Despite everyone’s attempts to keep her from leaving, she retreated to her room as if she was never there.

Hanhee yawns before she looks down at her phone. “It’s only 10:45 PM? God, I am getting old.” Byungho chuckles the moment she sits up straight. As soon as she stands up from the couch, she grabs onto her fiancé’s arm and pulls him up.

“You kids,” she points at you and Changmin. “Do not stay up too late.”

Byungho rolls his eyes before wrapping his arms around her once more. “Don’t tell them what to do—let them enjoy their break to the fullest.” Despite the frown that stays on Hanhee’s face, she melts into his embrace as he drags them out of the room.

And there remained you two—his hand still intertwined with yours as if you were the last thing he could latch onto. The silence that wraps around you two is deafening, but you are scared to even let out a croak. You spend all the minutes second-guessing what should be done only for your best friend to beat you to it.

“I’m sorry, by the way.” As soon as those words leave his mouth, you cannot help but frown at him. “It wasn’t my place to reveal whatever you have going on with Jacob.”

You cannot help but pout before shaking your head in reassurance. “It’s okay. I’m going to be honest, I didn’t know what to say so I’m glad you took over.”

“You want to talk about it?” Once your best friend asks you that question with a bitter smile, every part of you unwraps itself from its shell—defenseless as a cub during the winter time. You would have bottled it up like always, but the late hours of the day held power unlike no other. In these times, you let every sentiment be shared with him.

“I–I don’t know,” you whisper with your eyes staring into the picture frame that rested on the wall—a picture of Changmin who you can only assume to be around five years old as he stood in a park with his baby blue shirt and orange backpack. You move your intertwined hands to your lap. “I thought it would be unfair to still be confused about how I feel towards Jacob, but the first date solidified my previous thoughts.”

You take a brief glance at the boy who sits beside you only to see that his eyes still remain on you. With no reaction from him, you take this as an opportunity to continue. “Is it weird to want him to be my first boyfriend? Even if I don’t know what to feel towards him?” You let your eyes zero in on your best friend whose shoulders seemingly tensed.

A voice within you was begging for him to know the right words to say, but when he whispers “I–I don’t know,” you find yourself lost in the end. Your best friend did not have the answers to every question you could possibly hold, so why did it matter that he had nothing to offer you now?

“I mean, what happened?” He chokes out the question as he moves his hand away from yours to wrap around your shoulder. “Did the date not go well?”

You shake your head as you watch his free hand reach out for your hand once more. In the way he cradles you, you felt all the walls you built collapse. “It went so well—that’s why I don’t understand what’s wrong with me.” You look back up at your best friend. “I thought that the date would reaffirm my crush on him. But now, I’m kind of left with more things I don’t understand.”

It is not like you went into this world with everything made crystal clear to you. If anything, life always brought uncertainties. But at this exact moment, you only wish for what is certain—what could that possibly be?

“Hey,” he whispers before bringing your head close to his lips. As he brings your temple to his lips, you cannot help but feel your eyes close at the sensation—his lips on your skin as if it were the only thing that could bring you warmth during a snowstorm.

This should not be happening; you knew that this crossed the boundary of what you two drew during your years of friendship. And yet, you wish it could stay like this—you beg for the universe to let it remain this way.

But just as things should be, his lips leave your temple. The absence has you flutter your eyes open. As he draws circles with his thumb on the back of your hand, he says, “I–I get it, there’s a lot of things you don’t understand right now, but don’t pressure yourself into anything.” He takes a deep breath. “Feelings are weird, so just take your time.”

He repeats the first advice he shared with you the night before his competition. And you have no issue with him saying it again, and again, and again because a part of you needed to come to terms with something you kept avoiding—what were you avoiding?

You cannot help but let out a chuckle as your eyes shut close. What would it take for you to be sure of something? Why could you not find yourself jumping head-first with the boy you have fantasized about for years? All these questions and no one could answer but you and the universe.

With eyes still closed, you sigh, “These feelings are going to end up being the reason why I don’t end up getting into a relationship.” Your best friend cannot help but chuckle as he continues his ministrations. “I just,” your eyes open and look down to his hand that wraps around yours. “I look at Minhee and Byungho and your parents, and I beg that I am lucky to have that.”

“And you will have that—it just takes time,” your best friend whispers into your hair. “It took them time.”

You let out a chuckle, and you do not think of the next words that leave your mouth. “God, if we’re still single when we’re thirty, let’s just get married.”

As soon as Changmin stops drawing circles on the back of your hand, that is when you are hit with the reality of what your words meant. What do you mean by getting married at the age of thirty? Why would you even think of getting married to your best friend in the first place?

And you almost blurt out an excuse, until he lets out a chuckle. “When I’m thirty or when you’re thirty?” Warmth occupies every space in your body—it is as if the sun has taken over the snowstorm.

“Maybe when I’m thirty.” You giggle before taking a look at your best friend who seemed to always have his eyes on you. “I might be able to find someone before I turn that age, so I can’t just marry you when I’m twenty-eight.”

He hums before he lets his eyes drift down to your linked hands. “Says the person who doesn’t even know how to feel about their crush liking them back.” As soon as the words drift out of his mouth, you cannot help but gasp.

“Hey!” You exclaim as you use your free hand to smack his arm. While he erupts into laughter, you roll your eyes. “Can’t believe you’re using that against me right now.”

His arm is still wrapped around your shoulders while his free hand still holds yours. You let yourself melt into his embrace before letting out a sigh. Once your head found its spot in the space between his head and shoulder, his chin ever so slightly rests on top of yours.

Nothing needs to be said—the silence that settles is just as comforting as the usual ones you two share. The snow falls; crystals form on the window panes; the night has grown chiller than ever. But you are glad that in the cold, you will always find warmth.

It is 2:26 PM when you and Changmin’s sisters come back home. The three of you decided to spend the day at the mall by yourselves, away from everyone else. In Yuna’s defense, she said that you three needed to have your own hangout without any interference. You had no complaints though—you love the sisters and their company (even more than you like spending time with Changmin).

You shook the snow off your hair as you three stepped into the warm Ji household. While you attempt to remove your shoes, Hanhee sniffles. “God, that was fun! It brings me back to old times.”

“I know, right?” Yuna sighs happily as she sets her shoes aside. She grabs everyone a pair of slippers and hands her sister her pair.

Before she can hand you one, she notices you still struggling to remove your shoes. “Come on,” she says as she reaches her hand out. “You can hand me the gift. I won’t do anything to ruin it.” You roll your eyes as you hand off the plastic bag.

A giggle leaves Hanhee’s mouth as you crouch down to undo the laces. “I’m just saying, I didn’t know you think about him that much—let alone at all.”

“I just thought he would like it,” you shyly admit as you finally get one shoe off. While you work on the other shoe, you say, “I knew he would get upset if I didn’t buy it for him.”

During your time at the mall, your mind was always on a singular thought—a person. In your time shopping with Hanhee and Yuna, you were always looking at items that a particular someone would like; chestnut keychains; small figurines from horror movies; plushies that resembled his pet poodle. You never realized it though, until the sisters had pointed it out for you.

“Since when did you like horror movies?” Your shoulders shoot up at the sudden question. You turn in panic to see Yuna frowning in confusion.

“H-huh? Oh, I don’t,” you say before pointing at the red-faced demon from Insidious. “I just know that Changmin likes the franchise, so I was figuring out whether or not to get it for him. But he doesn’t even collect to begin with.”

“Is that why you were also looking at the stuffed toy a while ago? The one that looks like our dog?” As she asks that question, you raise your eyebrows in shock. You did not know that they noticed you looking through the section that held a variety of animal plushies. Before you could ask, she squints her eyes in suspicion. “You know, I didn’t know you thought about my brother so much.”

“Huh? No, I don’t.” You reel back at her words. “I just know that he would be upset if I didn’t bring him back anything.”

Yuna hums as she continues to stare you down. “I mean, we’re bringing back hotteok for the whole family.”

Before she could say more, Hanhee comes in with a basket full of chocolates hanging off her arms. “Okay, I got what I needed! What about you guys?” Although you nod, there was a battle happening within you—you could not decide what to bring back home for your best friend.

“Just buy the plushie that looks like Gana,” Yuna suggests, which has you snapping out of your thoughts. “I’m sure Changmin would appreciate it since he always misses Gana whenever he leaves Cheongju.”

While Hanhee shoots a confused look at her sister, you let out a sigh before smiling. “Thank you.” While you were making your way back to where the plushies were, Yuna shared her observations with her older sister who could only gasp at the newfound information.

“Whatever you say, Y/N,” Hanhee hums as soon as you finally get your other shoe out. As soon as you set your shoes aside, you grab the slippers and plastic bag from Yuna with a small pout on your face.

You know that if you do not clear it up now, they will go on with their assumptions. With that, you let out a sigh. “It’s not like that,” you start. “I was just thinking that he would appreciate the gift. Also, he let me stay with you guys for the break.” A small smile takes over your face as you look down at the plastic bag.

Once you look back up at the two, you notice their smug expressions. “Whatever, let’s go in. The hotteok will get cold,” Yuna says before opening the door.

As soon as you three step in with slippers on your feet, you are greeted by Byungho whose hair is wet. “Oh, you three are back!” He gives Hanhee a peck on the lips which only has her smile.

“How was helping out appa in the garden?”

Byungho shrugs at Yuna as he wraps his arm around Hanhee’s waist. “Not bad.” But when Yuna raises her eyebrow in confusion, he finds himself fessing up. “Fine, it was hard. I didn’t know shoveling out snow took so much energy and time.”

Hanhee cannot help but shake her head. “Here,” she hands him the box of hotteok. “We thought of bringing back the family something.”

He smiles before unwrapping his arm around her. As he holds the box in his two hands, he says, “Eomma and appa are out to visit the neighbors, so I’ll make sure to save them some.”

“What about Changmin?”

The three look at you the moment you ask that question, only to see you fiddling with the plastic bag. “He’s napping,” Byungho says with a small smile.

You give him a nod before making your way to the living room. On the futon, you spot your best friend whose eyes were closed as he held his dog close to him. The two snore softly—almost as if they had nothing to worry about.

With a small smile on your face, you unzip your padded jacket and remove it before taking a seat on the wooden floor. Right where you sat, your face hovers over him. At this moment, you only realize now that Changmin has grown up since you first got to know him.

His features are the same yet different; his chestnut hair that is sprawled against the pillow is groomed better than his tacky haircut back in high school; the baby fat he used to have in his cheeks has almost vanished; his jaw is more defined than you first remember it to be.

But past all these changes, he is still the boy you worked with in your high school’s publication team; the one who manages to rile you up on the days you do not want your patience to be tested; the guy who has taken care of you after every party; the best friend who has permanently carved his place in your life.

As you continue to look at his sleeping figure while his sisters and Byungho continue to chatter away in the kitchen, you cannot help but feel your heart warm at the sight. The smile that shows on your lips is undeniable—anyone who could see you right now would misunderstand.

But the voice in the back of your head almost begs that everyone would misinterpret it all—god, what were you even thinking? How could you even think of such nonsense? And yet, you only push those questions further back in your mind. All you care about at that moment is him—not you.

When your hand reaches out to swoop away the hair that rests near his eyes, you notice how he frowns at the sudden sensation. You hold back a giggle and retract your hand. When you set the plastic bag down on the floor, it rustles. And before you know it, Gana’s eyes start to open.

The moment he sees you, he snarls and jumps out of your best friend’s grasp. The sudden action causes Changmin to slowly wake up from his nap. Upon hearing the barking, he quickly sits up only to see you in cahoots—your face is all scrunched up as you try to hold his dog back from chewing you up.

“Oh my god, Gana!” He exclaims as he quickly grabs his dog from your hands. Although his pet continues to snarl at you, he pets him in hopes that he will calm down.

“Gana hates me.” His eyes trail up only to see you shaking your head. “He’s so defensive when it comes to you.”

Your best friend cannot help but chuckle as he tries to distract his dog from your presence. With just a few more pats, Gana started to slowly calm down. “When did you guys get back?”

With how groggy he sounds, you cannot help but giggle. “Just a few minutes ago,” you start as you fold your padded jacket. “We have hotteok in the kitchen if you want.”

All he does is hum before kissing Gana’s head. “Go to Yuna noona, okay?” He talks in a baby-like voice and nuzzles his face once more into Gana’s head. Somehow, his pet poodle understood and ran off to the kitchen, leaving you two alone.

Your best friend’s eyes zero in on the plastic bag that settles on the floor. “What’s that?” With a small smile, you grab onto it.

“Well, when we were going shopping, I stumbled upon something that you might like,” you start as you twirl the bag around. “It was either this or some small figurine from Insidious.” Once you hand it to Changmin, he cannot help but frown in confusion.

As his hand reaches into the bag, his fingers graze against something soft. His frown gets deeper and you can only laugh. Once he pulls out the item, his eyes land on a brown stuffed toy—one that resembles Gana in almost every way possible. His mouth parts open as he spins the toy around to admire it.

“I know that whenever you leave Cheongju, you always find yourself missing Gana. So when I spotted this, I thought of buying it for you—just so that this can at least make up for his absence.” With his eyes still on the toy, you do not know if you should anymore. You take a deep breath before saying, “I also thought that it would be a good way to thank you. I mean, you let me crash your winter break.”

As soon as his eyes drift away from the plushie and then towards you, you let out a shy chuckle. “You know I just–”

And before you know it, he wraps his arms around your shoulders and brings you into that all-knowing warm embrace. You feel your breath hitch in your throat as he holds you close, but you remember that it is just him who has the privilege of holding you this close.

It is only a few seconds later that he realizes he has hugged you without you initiating it. Out of all people, he knew fully well that you were often uncomfortable during these situations. But before he can unwrap his arms around you, your arms wrap around his waist and hold him as close as you could.

The moment he feels you ease into the embrace makes him smile. “Thank you,” he whispers into your shoulder before nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. As you feel his slow and steady breath on the right side of your neck, you cannot help but close your eyes.

You and Changmin knew each other in every way possible—in every aspect you two willingly shared. Every left shoe had to come with a right one; rain is followed with sunshine; linked arms always came with bruised hearts—there is no other way to capture you two.

It is 7:42 PM. Tomorrow, you and Changmin have to go back to your apartments since the second semester will commence three days from now. The time you spent in the Ji household is unlike no other—you hope you can visit again during the upcoming breaks. You did not want to say goodbye to it all; the home-cooked meals Changmin’s mom provided; the spicy tteokbokki Minho always prepared for you only; the town that you grew up in.

“I don’t want to go back tomorrow,” you whine as you stand in the kitchen while holding a cup of jujube tea that Hanhee prepared for you. “I just want to stay in Cheongju with you guys.”

The weather is still cold as ever; the crystals on the window panes have grown frustrating to look at; the snow that piles on the lawn is immovable; the idea of walking out of the house is unimaginable.

Yuna laughs while leaning on the kitchen counter before taking a sip of her tea. “You know we won’t be here either, right? You’ll be staying with our parents.”

“I don’t mind.”

The sisters shake their heads with smiles on their faces. “I’m sure our parents wouldn’t mind either, but you have to continue with your studies,” says Hanhee.

With a frown on your face, you retort, “Well, I could still drop out.”

She crosses her arms as she raises her eyebrows at you. “Okay, and you’ll do what?”

“Well,” you pause as you take a moment to think. You scrambled for ideas, only to blubber them out without a second thought.

“I could work with your dad with gardening stuff!”

Yuna scoffs, “You can’t even take care of plants.”

“Well, Minho would most definitely offer me a job at his restaurant.”

“Minho is not looking to hire someone,” Hanhee counters.

You scratch the back of your neck. “I’m sure someone will need me here.”

“And your parents will scold you for not continuing your education. Do you want that?” The moment Yuna asks you that has you pouting.

“I was just kidding,” you whisper before taking another sip of your tea.

The sister lets out a sigh before saying, “We know that. You know, just enjoy your college years! You’re only in your second year anyway.” While she shoots you a smile, you cannot help but frown. “I know, university is hard. I’ve gone through it all, but I would much prefer undergoing those years, again and again, rather than facing what adulthood has forced upon me.”

As soon as Yuna looks at her sister, Hanhee takes it as a sign to continue the thought. “Yeah, it’s not fun working an 8-5 hour desk job while having to worry about taxes or groceries.” When she thinks of more things to complain about, you notice the way she almost physically reels at the thought. “Jesus, I hate being a working adult. I realized I need to pay my statement to the bank every month and work ungodly hours to provide barely for me and Byungho.”

The moment your expression shifts from its frown to a terrified one, Yuna decides to cut her sister off. “Okay, let’s not scare Y/N too much,” she chuckles as she sets her cup on the counter. “Adulthood is scary, but you’ll get through it. Yeah, fuck having to pay bills or balancing chores all while working how many hours. But trust me, you will manage.”

Although Yuna attempts to ease your anxieties, you feel the floor swallow you whole. All the times you said you felt secure in your future—lies. It is always about deluding yourself into being okay with everything, but the reality is that you are dreading every second that passes.

“Oh my god, Y/N!” Hanhee snaps her fingers to get you out of your thoughts. When your eyes settle on her, you notice the small reassuring smile that rests on her lips. “I promise, you’ll be okay.” She walks to you and wraps her arm around you. “Most especially if you have someone to lean on throughout the journey.”

As she says those words, you frown. “What are you trying to insinuate?”

“Me?” She laughs as she drops her arm from your shoulders. “I’m not insinuating anything… unless you are?”

Everyone in the kitchen knew what her words entailed, and you did not want to acknowledge whatever they speculated about your feelings. You have full control over what you feel—you are not going to allow others’ opinions to influence you.

You roll your eyes before finishing the remnants of your tea. “Whatever,” you mutter as you wash the cup. “There’s nothing going on.” Once you set it aside to dry, you spin around to see the two raise their eyebrows at you.

“Whatever, we’ll leave you to your loverboy.” The moment Yuna says that makes you gasp, making your eyes face towards the living room where Changmin is busy playing with Gana.

“You can’t say that out loud!” You scold her as quietly as possible.

The sisters burst into giggles before taking their cups of tea in their hands. “We’re going to our rooms. You two have fun.” They do not attempt to listen to your protests as they make their way out of the kitchen. Now, you are left on your own while your friends think whatever they want to think.

As you let out a sigh, you allow your feet to take you to the living room. Upon entering, your eyes land on your best friend who sat in front of his dog while holding up the plushie you got him. His eyes hold every possible star in the universe as he plays with his one and only.

“Gana! Look at this, it’s you!” Changmin coos at his dog who only stares up at him in confusion. Although he shakes the toy at him, Gana stays stuck in place as he tilts his head.

Before you know it, you let out a chuckle at the sight. As your best friend turns his head towards you, he shoots you a grin—one that has been permanently stamped into your memories only for you to remember.

Once he diverts his attention from his pet, the dog cannot help but bark at him. He lets out a sigh before dropping the plushie and wrapping his arms around Gana. “You are so needy, you know that? Just like Y/N over there.” The moment he points at you makes you gasp.

“I am not needy.” Despite your attempt to defend yourself, your best friend only rolls his eyes.

“I’ve known you for five years. You are needy, even needier than Sunwoo,” he says, which only has you frowning. As he sees your expression shift, he cannot help but laugh. “C’mon, sit with me.”

When he says those words, the poodle in his arms starts to growl. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you say as you look back at the dog who has his eyes on you.

Despite Gana’s behavior, Changmin shakes his head before saying, “Trust me, just sit down.” With his pleading eyes staring right at you, you felt helpless to his requests. Even if a dog were to bite your hand off, you wanted to follow his requests. And somehow, you found yourself taking a seat on the floor right beside him.

Gana starts to bark which only makes you put some distance between you and Changmin. However, as your best friend starts to stroke the dog’s fur, you notice the way Gana starts to calm down.

“What we’re going to do today is get Gana used to you.” As the words leave his mouth, you look at him with wide eyes. Upon seeing your reaction, he cannot help but chuckle. “It is possible. You see the bag of treats on the coffee table?” You turn your head to spot what he was talking about. “Just get some—he’s usually weak to treats.”

You shoot him an unsure look, almost betting every poker chip that this would not go well. But when he shows you his reassuring smile, you feel all resolve crumble just like that. As your hand reaches out into the bag, you grab a small handful of dog treats.

“Okay, keep your hand closed first,” he says as soon as you bring your hand out. “Place it near Gana’s snout and he’ll smell the treats.” You follow his instructions, allowing the defensive dog to place his nose near your hand.

As soon as Gana gets a whiff of the dog treats, he continues to smell your hand. “Okay, you can open it now.” And as you follow his instructions, the poodle starts to eat the treats out of your hand. You cannot hide the shocked expression on your face. “See, he’ll start warming up to you.” Your eyes snap back up at Changmin who was smiling at his dog getting along with his best friend.

Since you first arrived at the Ji household, Gana has always remained hostile against you. And just after following your best friend’s instructions, the poodle was slowly getting used to you. You knew that Gana’s assertive nature only came from a place of wanting to protect his owner—who would not want to protect a boy like him?

This continued for a few more rounds until Changmin felt like that was enough treats for Gana to trust you. “Okay, let him sniff your hand once more.” As you follow his orders, his dog sniffs your skin. “Now, you can pet him.”

“Are you sure?” You ask as your eyes snap back up to him.

When you are only met with a nod, your eyes fall back on Gana who continues to sniff you. Once your hand raises from its position, you notice how his eyes follow it. The moment you find your hand stroking on the fur that rested on his back is almost as magical for everyone—the way Gana finds himself enjoying your touch is something you do not expect.

“Oh my god, he’s back to liking me again,” you whisper which has your best friend giggling.

Nothing needed to be said at that moment—the silence that falls on you three is comfortable. Your eyes always found themselves flickering between your best friend and his dog who only seemed to care about each other’s comfort. You do not miss the way Changmin smiles over how Gana closes his eyes at the sensation.

Seeing him like this—all soft and playful with someone he adores—tugs on your heartstrings. In your years of knowing him, you always knew of his soft spot for his dog. But something about this particular moment made it different. As your eyes zero in on the guy who sits next to you, you start to see every memory play out.

The first time you see him in your high school’s club room is almost an experience you will never forget. With the ways your hands clammed up at the sight of the intimidating boy, you can remember every thought running through your mind—the most memorable one being “resign from the newspaper team.” Can you believe it took you two being forced to work together that started your friendship?

You do not forget about all the times he came to you with a grin plastered on his face while he held the latest broadsheet that held your bylines together. With every article published, he never fails to mention how proud he is of you.

And with every dance competition you watch, you always see Changmin and Sunwoo achieve even higher than what their dreams set them up for. For every medal and trophy won, you never forget to tell the two how happy you are to have them as your best friends.

When Changmin’s graduation came, you will never forget the tears that streamed down yours and Sunwoo’s faces. Even on his special day, his two best friends could not help but be crybabies. You do not forget about the way he wiped the tears away with a smile that only provided you more comfort than words ever could.

On the day you and Sunwoo graduated, you can never forget how you two leaped at the sight of Changmin back in Cheongju. His arms wrapped around you two as if you were the last things on earth he could hold onto. That day only ended on a high note—one that you can hope to chase.

And when you first entered university and got accepted into the publication team, you will never forget how his expression shifted into genuine joy. The words he told you on that day are some you will never forget: “Every day, you are destined for greatness.”

With every lunch, you never forget how you find your heart leaping at the sight of him waiting outside of your classroom. In the same way you wait for him after class, you notice how his expression shifts from exhaustion to happiness. He never forgets to link arms with you every time you make your way to the picnic table you two consider your hideout.

The moment you share about your crush on the unattainable senior in your staff only had him laughing. And yet, he still indulged in your love-drunk rambles (even if nothing happened between you two). He never rained on your love train for all he seemed to care about is that you tell him everything.

When you bring Chanhee into your friend group, you do not forget how he connected with your two childhood best friends in an instant. The addition of Chanhee into your group of three made sense—you would not be the people you are today if someone were to be removed.

And at every party, Changmin always took care of you in your intoxicated state. Every time you needed to puke your guts out or desperately needed to drink water, he was always there to keep you company—to hold back your hair or bring you enough water that would help in sobering you up.

With every sentimental talk you two share, you never fail to see his attentive eyes on you—the way he holds onto your hand whenever you find yourself being vulnerable with him has become an ingrained action of his. And with every time you like to downplay every issue you face, he is always there to remind you of what you seemingly deserve.

Everywhere he goes, he brings warmth—one that you never feel from anyone else. Just from his existence, you always find yourself thanking the universe for bringing him to you. Because even if he loved to make fun of you in every way possible, you knew that it all came from a place of care—a place of love.

And just like that, you feel the crushing weight on your heart lifted. The moment of clarity finally pushed you to open your arms to what you had been tiptoeing around.

Oh.

Oh.

It is not as scary as you made it out to be. “I think I like you.” You do not realize the words you whisper under your breath without any second thought. It is soft just like how water slowly trickles down a faucet. But even the droplet sounds are ones you never want to hear on a quiet night.

You clear your throat loudly in hopes that it would cover up what you slipped out. “God, are you okay?” Your best friend asks as soon as your hand retreats from petting Gana.

With you shaking your head, you say, “Yeah! I think it’s just the cold weather getting to me.” You push yourself off the floor so that you can stand up. “I think I’ll just stay in my room and pack up for tomorrow.” Although his eyebrows furrow at your odd behavior, you do not allow him to say anything as you quickly make your way out of the living room.

On your way back to the room, you could only mentally scold yourself for coming to such a revelation—for even whispering such words without any second thought. You can only hope that your words were not heard by him. And while you found yourself panicking over the moment that occurred only minutes ago, your best friend was having an internal debate on whether he heard you say the words he has been dreaming of.

if you liked this, please take some time to like and reblog this and part one!

#zzoguri works #deoboyznet #kflixnet #bjnet #the boyz #ji changmin #the boyz x reader #changmin x reader #ji changmin x reader #ji changmin fluff #the boyz fluff #q x reader #kyu x reader #of linked arms and bruised hearts (you are the reason i keep on going)

[dutchvanwinkle]

Mr Van der Linde Pt. 6 - Dutch x Reader

This chapter is pretty heavy, with an exploration into grief and mental disorders. I’ve provided more of my thought process at the end as I don’t want to spoil the plot up here, but it’s there if you want to take a look beforehand!

As always - here's the ao3 link.

Summary: Dutch takes you on a minibreak and finally opens up about himself and his past.

Word count: 5,532

Content warnings: smut, discussions around mental health

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8 | PART 9 | PART 10

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Since his visit at the start of term, Dutch had made a point of calling you to catch up at least once a week. He wasn’t the texting type and preferred to hear about your days rather than read about them, which was rather sweet, except you had to keep your voice down if he called you while you were in your flat – just in case.  

After repeatedly trying to arrange a weekend to see you with no success, one day he sent you a message to keep three of the days a couple of weeks before Christmas free when he knew you’d be finished with lectures for the term.  

Fast-forward to then, he’d picked you up and driven the two of you to a small cottage he’d rented in the countryside a few hours away for the two of you to have some alone time together.  

The place was beautiful, quaint, and with enough local amenities to keep you busy. Although, you didn’t have much time to explore, since as soon as you’d entered and dropped your bags, Dutch attached his lips to yours and had you bent over the kitchen counter for an apt reuniting. I’ve missed you he’d said into your hair once finished, and opened up the opportunity for you to try the shower together.  

“I was thinking,” he said, sipping at his coffee as he caught up with the evening news on the old boxy television once you were both squeaky clean, “we stay in for food tonight, rest up, and go out to eat tomorrow?”  

“Sounds good,” you agreed, lifting the blanket from the back of the sofa and joining Dutch on it, draping it over the two of you and sighing contently once you were nestled into his side, the crackling fire swiftly warming the room. It was scary how easy it was to just be like this with him, but you couldn't bring yourself to question it. “Where’s there to eat around here?”  

“Uh,” Dutch pulled out his phone and scrolled around on maps, “there’s not much. A café and a pub, both relatively close to here.”  

“Either will do,” you yawned, resting your head on his shoulder. “I still can’t believe you arranged this.”  

“Well, I knew you couldn’t weasel your way out of it if we had something booked.”  

“I don’t weasel my way out of anything -”  

“No?” Dutch interrupted, raising his brows at you, “assignments popping up out of nowhere, extra shifts at work, a gig you forgot you had tickets for, none of those ring a bell?”  

You grumbled into the fabric of his shirt. “All valid excuses.”  

“Whatever you say, miss,” he chuckled light-heartedly. “I believe, anyway, this is a cause for celebration,” he stood, making his way into the kitchen and returning with two glasses and a bottle of fancy champagne.  

“Where the hell did you hide that? And what are we celebrating?”  

“I believe,” he opened the champagne on the small coffee table in front of you and poured out a glass. “You’re now halfway through your time at university, correct?”  

“Sort of,” you took the glass from him, “technically, it’s not halfway until after these exams. Close enough, though.”  

“And,” he sat beside you, his own glass in hand, “it’s been a year since you and I met.”  

“It has?”  

“There or thereabouts. You came over just before Christmas.”  

“Oh yeah,” you tilted your head, recalling the first time you saw Dutch casually lying on his sofa. “So it has.”  

“I can’t believe you don’t remember,” Dutch scoffed, swilling the champagne around his glass.  

“Aw,” you said patronisingly, “I didn’t realise you’d been counting. Do you have a journal filled with my initials and hearts, too?”  

Dutch narrowed his gaze, a stern breath out of his nose. “I’m trying to be romantic.”  

You smirked, clinking your glass against his and have a swig. “To romance.”  

With a scoff, Dutch leaned over to place his glass on the table. “Last time I do anything nice for you -”  

“What are you doing?” you gasped, picking his glass up and shunting it into his hand.  

“What?”  

“Drink it! It’s seven years of bad sex if you toast without having a drink afterwards.”  

“You know that from experience?”  

“Just drink it,” you tapped the bottom of the glass reprimandingly, and he did as you asked.  

“I didn’t have you down as the superstitious type,” he put his arm around you, amusement lighting up his face.  

You leaned into him all the same. “I’m not, exactly. But I don’t want to take the risk. I’m quite a fan of our sex.”  

“As am I,” he agreed, taking another sip. “Are you glad your first semester is over?”  

“I will be when the exams finish. But by that point, it’ll be second semester and I’ll have to do it all over again,” you responded begrudgingly.  

“How’s John getting along? He doesn’t tell me much.”  

“He’s fine,” you shrugged, not wanting to be the middleman between the two.  

Dutch let out a sigh and stretched his back. “I should’ve known you’d be no help on that front.”  

“I am not getting involved,” you laughed. “If you want to know how he’s doing, ask him yourself. Plus, I’d rather not be reminded that he’s your son.”  

“Can’t run from the truth, darlin’,” he mused, and the two of you took another sip.  

“I’m not running. I’m just ignoring it.”  

“How’s that different?”  

“Because I said so,” you shrugged, shifting slightly to look around the room. “I like it here.”  

Dutch glanced around too. “We’ll do it again sometime.”  

The statement hinted at a future, the thought of which had been ruminating around your head as of late. You pushed it back, not wanting to divulge away from the relaxed atmosphere in the room. Instead, you snuggled up to Dutch and sat for a while until your conversation was filled with more yawns than words, at which point you turned in for the night.  

-

Waking up laid on Dutch’s chest wasn’t something you were used to yet, but it was something you enjoyed greatly. So much so, that once you’d awoken the next morning, you remained in your position and didn’t check if he was awake, wanting to savour the comfort and warmth he provided.  

That was, until he shifted, and you heard him pull something from the draw, then a lid coming off. You peeked upwards, finding Dutch taking a swig of water and screwing the lid back on a bottle of pills that he hastily put back in the drawer.  

“What are those?” you asked, leaning up on your elbow to look over at his nightstand.   

Dutch tensed, slowly shifting his eyes to meet yours before swallowing down the tablet. He looked like he’d been caught in a questionable act, the expression on his face one you’d never seen there before.  

Shame.  

You put a hand on his arm, a minor attempt at soothing whatever worry had been prodded awake in his mind. “What is it?”  

“I - they’re -” he began, looking back at his glass of water and sighing deeply. “I suppose you had to find out sooner or later.”  

“Find what out?” you sat up, facing him as concern began brewing in your mind. “Dutch, are you okay?”  

“Yes, yeah, I’m fine. They’re just,” he leaned back against the headboard, decompressing as his panic turned into acceptance. “They’re mood stabilisers.”  

“Oh,” you responded, glad to hear that none of the worst-case scenarios in your head were true. You wanted to know more, but this was clearly a sensitive topic for him. “Do you want to tell me about it?”  

He looked at you with mild surprise, blinking a few times to glance down at his hands which he was wringing together. You placed your palm over them. “I don’t necessarily want to, but it’s about time you knew about it.”  

You nodded, allowing him to go at his own pace, your heart wrenching at how raw and exposed he was for the first time since you’d met him.  This certainly wasn’t what you’d expected from this weekend.  

“Not now. How about we go on a walk after breakfast? It’s a lovely part of the country,” he gestured out the window, hopeful.  

“I’d like that.”  

The two of you spoiled yourself with breakfast at a local café, idle chatter and comfortable silences accompanying your meal. Part of you wished you could go for a nap but walking it off was the more sensible option. Besides, you didn’t think letting Dutch hold that extra weight on his shoulders for any longer than necessary was a good idea.  

You walked from the local village to a nearby trail, with open fields and sky that stretched out for miles. You’d gotten lucky with the weather, despite not being hot, the sun was out and made for a nice addition to the scenery. After only a few steps, Dutch casually took your hand in his and the two of you began the walk.   

“I’ve been on them for years,” Dutch’s opening sentence was soft, as though he’d been deep in thought about how to begin the conversation.  

“Have they helped?” The question felt like a silly one, you doubted he’d take them if they didn’t, but you weren’t sure what to ask at this moment, or whether you were to ask anything at all.  

“Yeah. A lot.” He sounded almost glum.  

“That’s good.”  

“Was Arthur who got me on them in the first place.”  

You hummed in acknowledgement, feeling for a boundary you didn’t want to cross. “What are you like without them? If you don’t mind me asking.”  

“No, it’s fine.” Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed him glance at you and felt reassured. “Uh, I think Arthur’s word for it was ‘unreasonable’. Though I think he was being nice, to placate me.”  

“On account of your unreasonableness.”  

“Exactly.”  

The silence extended, and you enjoyed the singsong of birds nearby while you waited for him to find his next words.  

“Arthur... he’s put up with a lot. A lot more than the other two. I half wonder how he still tolerates me.”  

“By put up with, do you mean with regards to you specifically?” you pried gently, hoping you weren’t putting words in his mouth.  

“Unfortunately. After Ann -” Dutch stopped, giving you a sharp look at the realisation this was the first time he’d mentioned his late wife.  

“You can talk about Annabelle,” you reassured him, “I’d like to hear about her.”  

He nodded, relieved. “After she - Annabelle, passed away, I guess I sort of changed. Well, John doesn’t agree with that, but -”  

“Agree with what?” you asked, unsure what he was referring to.  

Dutch sighed, visibly uncomfortable but with a lingering desire to continue his explanation. “John reckons I was always this way. Just that the circumstance brought it out,” he looked to the ground at the stones shifting beneath his steps, and you ran your thumb over his hand that was still clasped around yours. “Sorry, I’m not making much sense.”  

Hearing him speak without an air of self-assurance was almost jarring, as though no matter how hard he tried to plan out the words there just wasn't a good way to say them. “It’s okay. Why don’t you go back to Annabelle’s passing?”  

“Right, good idea.” Dutch paused for an extended moment, ordering his thoughts. “I was so angry. That’s what I remember the most – just pure rage. She was a good person, and then she was gone.”   

You chewed on your lip, wondering if it was your place to ask but decided it might help you understand Dutch that little bit more. “How did it happen?”  

“She got sick.” That was all Dutch said, and that was all you needed to know. “We had a home, a good life, a family. Then it was just me, with these kids and I didn’t know the first thing about how to bring them up. Arthur was a teenager, poor Tilly just a toddler.”  

“But you’d brought them up until that point?”  

Dutch nodded diplomatically. “I suppose. Annabelle did all the tough bits, though, as most mothers do. But it wasn’t just that. The worst part was that I -” he trailed off, looking across the horizon and unable to hide the pain on his face. “I didn’t want to.”  

Your brows knitted together. “Bring them up?”  

“I just remember them wanting to... go away. I was heartbroken, I didn’t want to deal with their broken hearts too. It sounds awful, doesn’t it?” he looked at you, eyes sad and riddled with guilt.  

“Grief’s a funny thing.”  

A short, humourless laugh left Dutch and he turned his attention back to the scenery ahead. “Arthur,” his voice cracked on the name, “perceptive as he is, ended up doing a large part of that job for me. Mainly because I let him.” The pair of you took a few more steps, allowing the silence to dilute the tense air building around Dutch. “I resented him for it.”  

“Why?” you asked gently.  

“The kid was a better man than me. He’d lost his mother, and he had it in him to support his siblings. I just felt weak, almost like they’d -” he swallowed, his jaw ticking, “like they’d be better off if I wasn’t there.”  

“Oh, Dutch -”  

“Don’t,” he warned, not meeting your gaze, “it’s not sympathy I deserve.”  

While you didn't completely agree with that statement, you opted for doing as he asked and kept quiet on that front.  

“After a while, I got paranoid. I thought Arthur was trying to replace me, and I started to accuse him of it in not-so-many words. One night, Arthur did something he’d never done before.”  

“What?”  

“He shouted at me. Yelled at me. At that moment it was like seeing my own rage reflected, as he whittled off everything he hated about me. I was speechless. And at that moment, I hated him too.” Dutch’s face hardened with the memory, and he consciously shook it away. “The next day, Hosea – you remember him? I’m not sure you’ve met.”  

“I remember,” you nodded. Dutch’s best friend, the one he worked with. You’d never spoken with him, but you were sure you’d seen him at the barbeque back in summer.  

“Well, he came around. Sat me down with Arthur and they had an... intervention of sorts. He was more of a father to Arthur than I was at that time, and I hadn’t even noticed just how much he’d been there, taking the kids out and such. But I trust Hosea, always have.” For the first time in this conversation, Dutch’s eyes misted up, but he blinked it away. “He told me I needed to get help, and I did. I couldn’t have done it without him and Arthur.”  

You walked some more, Dutch’s hand comfortably intertwined with yours. “Shit,” you huffed, wishing you had better words to articulate your thoughts. “I - that’s a lot. I’m sorry.”  

“Why are you sorry?” he asked.  

“I’m sorry you had to go through that. It mustn’t have been easy, accepting you need help and then seeing it through to this point.”  

He looked at you, still a little puzzled.  

“You’ve come a long way,” you shrugged, and Dutch’s face softened as though viewing his progress as an achievement wasn’t something he often did. That didn't surprise you, for as hard as could be on his kids he was noticeably harder on himself. “I didn’t know Annabelle, but I like to think she’d be proud of you for it.”  

Dutch nodded, again looking at the countryside ahead and when his lip quivered you stopped walking, turning towards him and he mirrored your actions. You brought a hand up to the side of his face, running a thumb under his eye to catch one of his less-stubborn tears. “You’re very understanding,” his voice was weak as it carried the words, an odd thing to hear from such a proud, strong man.   

There wasn’t much you could say, really. John had never mentioned anything about this, and your initial thoughts about their perfect family life were far from the truth. Their money wasn’t enough to save Annabelle, work through their grief, or avoid the inevitable trauma that followed. The life they had was built from the ground up on a rocky foundation, and it told you a lot about Dutch to know what he’d worked through to get to this point. You wrapped your arms around his waist and embraced him, the two of you remaining like that for a short time before continuing the walk, a much lighter atmosphere surrounding you for the rest of its duration.  

-

After the walk, the two of you were hungry enough to go out for dinner earlier than planned, and promptly returned to the cottage once fed.  

“What did you do with the rest of that champagne?” you called into the kitchen, fiddling with the cardigan you’d draped over your shoulders.  

“I stuck it in the fridge with a spoon in the opening. Should be okay – do you want some more?” Dutch called back.  

“Well,” you shifted on the arm of the sofa you were perched on, “I was thinking we could give that hot tub a whirl.”  

A comical pause of silence preluded Dutch appearing in the doorway, eyebrows raising when he was met with you in your bikini. A half-smile inched onto his face, and he licked his lips absentmindedly. “You are full of good ideas,” he leaned up against the doorframe, his voice dropping in pitch. “You don’t think it’ll be cold?”  

“Not in the hot tub,” you shrugged. “I’ll go figure out how to turn it on.” With that, you stood and walked away, smirking at the lack of movement on Dutch’s part.  

Eventually, he pulled himself together and you were already relaxed in the warm water when he came outside, in his own shorts with the champagne in hand. The smile he couldn’t keep off his face was contagious as he placed the drink down and stepped into the water to sit opposite you.  

He did look undeniably cute surrounded by bubbles.  

Once he’d poured a glass, he handed it over and you held it up expectantly, waiting for his toast.  

“Oh no, you were rather critical of my toast yesterday,” he said amusedly, pouring his own glass. “If you want one, you do it.”  

You smiled surreptitiously, tilting your head while you thought. Once one came to mind, you flicked your gaze to his and cleared your throat. “To plentiful sex.”  

Dutch tipped his head back as he laughed, eyes shining when they met yours. “Well, the gods of toasting do seem to have a lot of power in determining sexual relations, it seems, so that is fitting.”  

With a nod of agreement, you extended your arm out and Dutch tapped his glass against yours. He made a show of retaining eye contact while you both took a sip. You jolted when something came into contact with your foot, but relaxed upon the realisation that it was just Dutch’s own foot inching towards you. Your body grew warmer at the insinuation, now heating up from the inside as well the outside thanks to the steamy water. He crept further up your shin, over your knee and up your inner thigh, then paused. He shunted his foot upwards, knocking your glass of champagne and did a good job of spilling it down your front.  

“Dutch,” you cried in a half-laugh, sitting up straight and shivering at the cool alcohol on your skin.  

The man just laughed, but soon leaned over onto your side of the tub. “Don’t worry,” he rumbled, taking your glass and setting it down along with his, “I’ve got it.” With that, he brought his head to your chest and licked the champagne from your cleavage, all the way up to your neck. Your shock swiftly moulded into arousal, sighing softly and arching into his touch.  

“You’re a bastard,” you said despite yourself, but even that came out all breathy.   

“You love it,” he said against your skin, continuing to clear it of the spilt champagne. “Besides,” he lifted his head, “it’d be unfair not to test that toast of yours.”  

“Unfair?” you repeated, running one of his damp curls between your fingers, “unfair on who, exactly?”  

“Me, you, the toast gods...” he said in-between pecks to your chest, trailing down to venture between your breasts once again.  

Your fingertips ran into his scalp, spurring him on. “Well, we can’t have that.”  

Dutch kissed along your clavicle then brought his face to yours. “I admire your fairness.”  

After sighing out a laugh you pecked his lips, and one turned to two which turned to many. He tasted of champagne, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, his hands moving behind your back to untie your bikini. Without breaking the chain of kisses, you made a joint effort to remove it and he instantly found your breasts, caressing them in his hands.  

You moved your fingers through his hair to hold the back of his head, keeping his lips pressed onto yours. Dutch brought his hand to your face, reciprocating your desire until the kiss broke and you brought a palm up to his cheek, the pair of you catching your breath and observing each other as day turned to night. “Are you sure we can do this in here?” you asked.  

“I don’t think I’ll be able to survive the wait to do it anywhere else,” Dutch huffed and that was more reasoning than you needed; you weren’t sure you’d survive it yourself. You encouraged him to sit where he was previously and straddled him, the warm water sloshing around your bodies.   

Dutch hummed as his palms felt their way up your thigh and you angled yourself so that his cock was pressed against you in just the right place between your combined swimwear. His fingers trailed around, squeezing your ass then trailing further still to press over your cunt. Thankfully, he couldn’t tease you for how wet you were this time.  

Your whine in response was likely enough for him to figure it out anyway, and he deftly moved your bikini bottoms to the side so he could slide a finger in, and you clenched around it, searching for more.  

“That’s it,” he cooed, voice thick and breaths short. You ground your clit onto him while he pumped his finger, soon after adding a second. It was greedy, but you always wanted more when it came to this man. His other hand brushed up your flank to reach your breast, running his thumb over your nipple as he intently watched the pleasure spread over your face. “You truly are magnificent.”  

You tutted, lightly pinching his shoulder. “Hush.”  

He shook his head with a smile. “Never.”  

Reaching down to remove his shorts, he lifted his hips to assist, and you decided you might as well go completely bare too. After untying your bottoms, you flung them over the side with his shorts and immediately ground onto his length. Dutch whimpered weakly as you lined up and slowly sunk down onto him.  

“Oh my,” Dutch breathed and held your hips in his hands, keeping your crotch anchored to his while your walls fluttered around him and got used to the feeling. His body was growing familiar, a thing you anticipated but admired all the same just as you had the first time you’d become intertwined.  

You shifted your knees and pressed your torso into his, a gentle hand on his neck to persuade him to look up at you. He did, and with a stifled sigh, you pressed your lips to his. Dutch was oddly pliant, allowing your tongue in and following your lead as you explored his mouth. Experimentally, you raised your hips some and sunk back down, finding a tender rhythm that made him dig his fingernails into your flesh.  

While the air was cold, the two of you were burning hot. Manoeuvring yourself up and down Dutch’s length allowed for a measure of control you hadn’t had previously, and the quiet praise he repeated as you moved told you all you needed to know about his thoughts on the matter. His thighs twitched occasionally, him fighting the urge to pound into you and rush to the finish.  

Leaning back from him, you took in the sight of his steamy, soaked skin, the pink flush that resided there and the defined curls, some of which fell forward onto his face. He was drinking you in, too, your wet skin and exposed nipples, along with the lust-filled expression on your face as your lips parted and eyes grew heavy. The angle allowed for a repeated pressure over the sensitive spot in your walls, and you dropped your head back with a moan as the intensity increased with each thrust.  

“Dutch,” you whispered into the evening air, thoroughly and contently filled with him.  

“I know, darlin’,” he agreed, enamoured with the view of you falling apart right on his lap.  

Dutch’s muscles, highlighted thanks to the blanket of water covering his form, grew taut with the strength of which he clung to you. He squeezed your thighs, dragging his fingernails over your skin and his carnal need flashed dangerously over his eyes. With a growl, you found yourself losing the rhythm you’d built as Dutch forced his own, pulling you down onto him at a much more brutal pace.  

You cried out, Dutch hissing through his teeth as his features scrunched. “Oh, yes,” he said approvingly, “I finally get to hear your pretty song.”  

The more noise you let spill from your mouth, the harder Dutch gripped your flesh and used your body for his enjoyment, the two of you slippery and still yearning for more. You wanted it so bad it hurt, your abdomen burning up as his cock fucked you further and further into a state of euphoria. It was just you and him, able to be animals of your own accord, nobody around to tell you it was wrong or immoral.  

But that was why you liked it. This older, mature man saw the value in you, grew almost obsessive at the thought of your body and the back and forth in your mind slowed every time he showed you just what you did to him. You clouded his judgement; you were worth the risk. You had him panting, pulling your body to his as he claimed all that you were. He had the same effect on you, you supposed.  

Dutch shifted in his seat, digging his feet into the bottom of the tub to try and get further in, to fuck you harder, deeper. “Fuck, darlin’ -” he moaned, tailing off almost into a whimper. “Oh my, my girl. You feel so good. So good.”  

His babbling praise filled your ears, seeped into your skin and fed your very soul. Making him lose his well-practised control only heightened your lust. You whined, feeling over the flexing muscle of his shoulders and holding on for dear life. At this rate, you wouldn’t be surprised if you floated right up into the stars above.  

“Shit, I can’t -” he grunted strenuously, “I’m gonna, sweetheart, I’m gonna -”  

And he did, pulling you as far down onto his cock as he could and dropping his head to your chest, his thighs twitching beneath you as he filled your pussy to the brim. You cradled his jaw, laboured breaths leaving the pair of you as he looked up with those dark eyes of his. He tutted at himself, muttering an apology and you chuckled as he brought his thumb to your clit, rubbing across it and pressing down at just the right moment.  

His teeth attacked your neck, and you knew he’d leave a mark but screw it – regardless of anything you couldn’t deny that you were his. It felt too good, his cock and his fingers and his lips exploring every avenue of your body. “Come, darlin’,” he said lowly, his voice hoarse, “let me feel you come on my cock. That’s it. Good girl, come on -”  

Your toes curled and your eyes tightened shut at the feeling that shot through you, a hot wave of shock that buzzed into your appendages. With a moan of relief, you dropped your forehead to press against his, still feeling the after-effects of your orgasm. “That was so -”  

Dutch hummed in agreement, and you were glad he understood.   

Tenseness turned to relaxation as you melted into him, and your body felt weaker and more fucked-out than it ever had. Dutch’s big arms wrapped around you when you rested your head on his shoulder, and you could happily fall asleep right there – even if it did mean you’d look like a prune come morning.  

“I think someone’s ready for bed.”  

“Oh no,” you yawned, “I’m full of energy.”  

Dutch snickered, and you groaned when he shifted, but he shushed you gently. “Just sit there for five seconds, darlin’.”  

You did, begrudgingly, and watched him step out of the hot tub and find his shorts from the floor, pulling them up before turning off the hot tub. Then he reached in and took you in his arms, cradling you as though you were his most prized possession. It was a fair trade, and you wrapped your arms around your neck as he walked into the house and carried you into the bedroom.  

“Now, tell me, you don’t exactly want to get this bed all wet, do you?” you raised your brows at him suggestively, and he shook his head in mild disapproval. “Bad girl. You know that’s not what I meant.”  

“No,” you gave in, “I don’t.”  

“Right. So, I’m gonna stand you up here, wipe us both down with a towel, and then we’ll get comfy. Deal?”  

“Deal,” you parroted, leaning in to press your lips to his.  

Dutch followed up on his end of the bargain, gently dragging the soft towel over your skin. You climbed into bed while he dried himself. He changed into some dry, charcoal grey shorts and glanced over to you. “Would you like your pyjamas?”  

Your answer was a shake of your head, and his expression grew pleased. “Good. I’ll just be a second.”  

He left to lock the doors and turn out the lights and then returned to climb in beside you, immediately pulling you into his chest and you wrapped your leg over his, attempting to get as close as you could.  

“You’re a special girl,” he hummed into your hair, and it was the last thing you remembered hearing before drifting off.  

-

This must’ve been on record for the most showers you’d ever taken in a weekend. Dutch had the expected reaction come morning to your nude form lying half-on him, and you didn’t blame nor begrudge him for it. The two of you were squeaky clean once again by the time you sat down for late breakfast Dutch had insisted on cooking for you.  

“I wish we could stay here,” you said melancholily, leaning back in your chair and taking a swig of orange juice to wash down your food.  

“Don’t tempt me,” Dutch agreed, resting his open palm on the table.  

You placed yours over it and offered him a bittersweet smile, the unfairly quick passing of time feeling almost like a robbery of sorts. Here, you'd been away from your troubles and stress at university, and you'd been able to just be with him without worrying about who'll hear you. It was just what you'd needed. “Thanks for bringing me.”  

“Of course. Fancy enjoying the view for the last few hours?”  

With a nod you stood, and Dutch led you outside, taking a seat on the bench facing the outstretched scenery and you took a sit on his lap in turn. He lit a cigarette and you relaxed into him, glancing up at the hard line of his jaw while he pressed the smoke to his mouth.  

It was so cliché, but god did he look hot while he smoked.  

“I was wondering,” he began, “why don’t the lot of you live in the same flat?”  

“We were meant to. But because I didn’t let the accommodation office know, nobody did.”  

“You really are the good girl of the group.”  

“Hardly,” you huffed, gesturing a hand to him.  

“Touché,” he smirked around his next drag. “Will you next year?”  

“Yeah, either merge our flats or rent a house. Whichever is cheapest.”  

Dutch hummed. “That’s pretty close quarters.”  

“Mhm. So you won’t be able to sneak into my room should you decide to come up again.”  

With a laugh, Dutch gently ran his hand up and down your back. “I won’t need to if you agree to spend the odd weekend with me.”  

“I will,” you relented.  

“Promise?” he asked, and you pecked his cheek.  

“Promise.”  

End Note: Lemme preface this by saying I am not a professional on psychiatry or anything related to it, however, a common opinion about Dutch in the fandom is that he suffers with BPD or something similar. I agree, to the end that I had a family member with it and with a bit of extra research the symptoms do line up with Dutch’s personality. With this being a modern AU, I wanted to delve into how his life could’ve differed with the advancement of medicine and knowledge. That being said, I only have the internet to guide me so I apologise if any part of it seems inaccurate - please correct me if that’s the case! For that reason, I didn’t want to go too deep into it and be irresponsible, but I do love picking this man’s brain apart and it felt wrong not to address it at least a little. I’m not entirely sure how common it is for people with BPD or similar illnesses to reach a level of self-awareness like he does here, but I know it is possible in some cases, and with Dutch being rich it makes sense that he’d at least be able to get access to decent treatment. What we do know from R* is that Dutch struggled with being suicidal (if you haven’t played RDR1 or at least watched the scenes he’s in I highly recommend it) and it ties in well with his circumstance so again I wanted to touch on it.

#dutch van der linde x reader #dutch van der linde x f!reader #dutch van der linde #dutch x reader #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 #fanfiction #my stuff

[quillsareswords]

Church Pews and Rescues

DAMIAN WAYNE X READER

SUMMARY: Being in love with someone who gets into fist fights with werewolves is hard, but not for the reason he expected. Okay, well, some of the reasons he expected. BELONGS TO SWORDS AND SPELLS COLLECTION.

WARNINGS: F!READER, language, descriptions of peril, mentions of death, my most Unhinged reader-character

MASTER LIST in BIO

Sometimes, he really wishes he would have just kept you at arms length. Times like being forced to read, with his own eyes, the following text message at five in the morning on a Wednesday:

Come pick me up sugar tits [Location shared]

He could've chosen anyone. He could have chosen no one. He could have woken up this morning and went down to the Cave to train just as he'd planned. He might have finally perfected the rotation and angle of a throwing axe. He might have tried the new protein shake Alfred brought home yesterday. He might have even had enough time to take a nap.

Instead, he's trying to navigate the backroads of some tiny town in the middle of nowhere a state and a half away from Gotham.

Sure, you bring him more unbridled joy than any person he's ever known and he would cut a man down at the ankles for sneezing on you in a grocery store; but there are days he'd love nothing more than to absolutely fucking murder you.

You've been gone for three days with barely any communication, which worries him enough as it is, and now you're apparently stranded somewhere and won't answer your phone. He fully expects this address to be a police station.

Wouldn't be the first time. Probably won't be the last.

He makes it a mile outside of town, past the crumbling brick and fading billboards lining the interstate he had to abandon a few miles back, dutifully following the little blue line on his screen. The location you sent him is just past an upcoming four-way, assumably on the other side of these trees and around the corner.

Blank white gravel parking lot, wheelchair access, white paint on wooden siding, a cross as tall as his Lincoln is long—it's a church. Of course it is.

He doesn't see your car, but there is a boxy old Buick parked to the left of the cement stoop my. He pulls in past the sun-stained sign advertising 10:00 worship on Sundays, and parks on the other side of the steps.

He thought you'd said you were going after some kind of man-eating forest beast that had been terrorizing a campground. Then again, your jobs don't always pan out like you expect. Maybe it was actually a possessed dog, or something. Or, worse yet, something else entirely came up.

Whatever the case, he assumes you aren't in terrible shape or mood if you made the terrible decision to call him sugar tits. Which, of course, will not go unpunished.

He'll wait until he sees you to make that call, though. As much as he hates it, there's the very real possibility that he's about to find you bleeding out onto cheap church carpet, texting delirious SOS messages to anyone on your contact list.

That's unlikely, he reminds himself. He's seen what it takes to knock you down, and he doubts it would be scavenging around Nowhere, Massachusetts. Then again, it is an old part of the country, artifactly speaking.

He takes the steps two at a time, trying to keep his gait as inconspicuous as possible. There's a few papers taped to the inside of the glass doors, one about Bible study, another about a summer camp.

He just hopes the doors are unlocked. If he has to break into a church to find you, he's going to be so pissed. Again, working under the assumption you aren't wounded and hiding out on holy ground. If he has to carry you out of the church he just broke into, he's going to be even more pissed.

Luckily for him, the right side door swings open with some rusty resistance.

He's greeted with cool, vaguely musty air, and a hallway. There's a bench and then an open door on the right wall, two closed doors (one labled restroom) on the left. At the end of the hall, flimsy wooden double doors, the left one cracked open. Most likely the sanctuary.

He hears clanking from the open door. Then humming. Tapping—shoes on linoleum floor. Your boots don't tap. Heels?

He listens for a long moment. A woman. Older. The clanking sounds like something being set on a baking pan.

He unbuttons his jacket, smooths his hair, fixes his shirt—is this the same one he worse yesterday? Damn it, he'd grabbed the first one he saw and now he's covered in wrinkles. He tries to make himself a little more approachable.

He walks down to the door, and peers around the corner. Sure enough, a sweet-looking old woman in a floral dress and what he thinks you once called kitten heels is spooning out cookie dough onto a pan at a little wooden table. She startles a little, looking up from her work through thick red-rimmed glasses. "Oh," she gasps, "hello. Can I help you?"

He smiles, channeling the signature Wayne charm he mirrors from Bruce and Dick. "Good morning. I hope you can help me, I'm looking for someone–"

"Oh," she breathes, pressing a hand to her chest. "Yes, of course. I'm sorry, you caught me a little off guard," she laughs. Then she waves her hand back out toward the hall. "In the sanctuary, honey. She said someone would be along for her."

His smile gets a little tight. "Thank you." He offers a hand, in some grateful gesture, and back out into the hall.

He's going to rip you a new one. Right after he gets you breakfast—he glances at his watch (is McDonald's still serving breakfast?)—or, well, lunch. (No. No they are not.)

It's modest, just like the rest of the building. But there are children's decorations hung on the walls and family pictures hung up among the religious artworks. There's a row of pews on either side of the room, leading up to the stage. He can't find your head among the backs of the pews, and there aren't any other doors.

He starts down the isle. He keeps in mind all the times he's followed you through similar buildings, your voice in his ear telling him to mind any thing that moves. Entities hide everywhere, all the time. If you aren't watching, you'll never see them coming.

So he stays ready. He watches the corners and the spots where the sunlight gleaming through the windows doesn't touch. He steps lightly and carefully.

And then a snore just about gives him a heart attack.

He whips around to the pews on the left, and there you are. Sprawled out on the fifth pew from the back, one leg on the floor and an arm thrown up over your head. An ugly denim print baseball cap is pulled down low over your eyes. Your bag is tucked uncomfortably under your head.

If it weren't for the soft snoring, he might've thought you were dead, flopped across the wood like a husk.

He shoves out an irritated breath and crosses his arms, trying to settle the wild beat of his heart.

He'd really like to be annoyed. He deserves to be. You dragged him out of bed and across a state line, and he finds you passed out on a church pew at 10:30. He has every right to be at least a little angry.

But he's not. The sight of you, well enough to doze off despite the bruise blooming down your arm from beneath your shirt sleeve and the patch bandage slapped over the opposite forearm, releases the tension he hadn't realized was coiled between his lungs. If anything, he's relieved.

He is annoyed, and you definitely owe him for this, but knowing that you're safe, and having you back in his immediate vicinity is enough to soothe it.

Still, that doesn't mean he can't milk it a little.

He kicks the boot on the floor. "Rise and shine."

You grumble something that gets lost in the dreary edges of your rough voice, the hand previously rested on your stomach moving to prop up the bill of your hat. You squint up at him.

Even tired down to your bones and a little out of it with sleep deprivation, you tuck a moment away to appreciate the way he looks, standing over you with bright sunlight beaming in behind him to outline his figure.

You pin it to your brainpan and move right along. "Well, look-ee here, if it isn't my knight in shiny black armor." You smile up at him, lopsided and exhausted.

He rolls his eyes. "Do you want to explain yourself?"

You snort. "Does anybody who wakes up on a church pew really want to explain how they got there?"

"They do when someone has to drive for three hours to pick them up."

You wince. "Yeah, alright. That's fair." With a groan, you plant a hand on the wooden back and haul yourself upright. Something tender pulls tight beneath the skin beside your spine. "My car got kind of fucked up. It's in the shop. Won't be driveable til, like, next week. And it was really late by the time I finished up with, uh, work, so I just...crashed here. Cause the door was unlocked."

He raises an eyebrow and watches you bend forward to retie the laces of your boot. "You trespassed in a church instead of waiting a few hours for a hotel to open?"

You cock a shoulder. "Yeah. Public property. Plus, it's consecrated, so I didn't have to worry too much."

He sighs. "You're unbelievable."

You turn your head to the side for him to see a shit-eating grin. "And you're insufferable, but here we are."

There's something off in your eyes. He could chalk it up to exhaustion or the lighting, but he's known you too long, knows you too well. Something is bothering you.

He clicks his tongue and turns sharply on his heel, feigning irritation. The sooner you're in the safe confines of his car, he'll pry until you open up.

You scoop up your bag and sling the strap over your shoulder, wary of whatever muscle you've pulled there, before you follow after him. You catch up with him at the door, bumping your shoulder with his to squeeze through with him. "Thanks for coming, by the way."

It's said a little quieter, a honester. Your voice dips below the superficial attitude, to a lower tone that reveals the exhaustion and the gratitude.

He can stand to drop his act for just a moment. "Of course. I always will."

Not that he'll be happy about it, by any stretch of the imagination—be he will always come when you need him.

He'll complain the entire way home, at the table while you wolf down whatever he can get you, and while he redresses whatever is going on under that bandage on your arm. He will moan and bitch while he tucks you into his bed and lets you sleep off the headache he knows is collecting behind your eyes.

But he'll also do it all again the next time you need him. Because he loves you more than anything, and he'd do anything for you. Even when that means getting up before the sun to drive a six hour round trip to drag your bruised ass home.

Even when you call him sugar tits.

Fucking. Sugar tits.

"Thanks, Maria," you call as you pass the kitchen, waving at the elderly woman.

She waves back with a hand still covered in cookie dough. "Safe travels, hon. Stay out of trouble."

"I'll try," you chuckle. For a week, maybe. Just for her. Well, and because you're probably about to get a lecture from your doting boyfriend, but it's the thought that counts, right?

He doesn't miss the way you drop down the cement steps, cringing every time you land a little too hard on your left foot. He opens the passenger door for you, carefully taking the bag from your shoulder as you pass him. You let him without any argument, which is unusual. He can't open any door for you without some mocking quip about what a gentleman he is or about how you can do it yourself.

He slings your bag into his trunk on his way to the driver's side, purposefully ignoring the suspiciously meaty thunk it makes.

When he drops into his seat, simultaneously pulling the door closed and pressing the startup, you're already reclining your seat and closing your eyes.

He uses the camera to back away from the church, but there's still a hand on the back of your headrest.

You feel bad. Guilty, mostly. You are tired, and it is getting hard to keep your eyes open, especially when he's driving and you know you don't have to be so on guard anymore. But you also really don't want to see how tired he looks.

Truth be told, you didn't have to text him. You easily could have waited until the hotels opened, booked yourself in for the week, and drove yourself home when the car was fixed. You had enough to afford it, none of your injuries were an immediate issue, and you could've called him later in the day to tell him all this so he wouldn't worry.

There's a long strip of bandage that's wrapped around your ribs beneath your shirt. There's a thick pad of gauze that got you some weird looks from the local CVS cashier last night. (Unlike Jerry, who wouldn't have blinked.)

A church grim is an entity that guards a graveyard. Originally, they were thought to protect churches—hence the name—but really, it's the graveyard they guard. They keep the evil dead within, and the evil living out. They're comically powerful for their purpose; enough so that you avoid them whenever possible.

You couldn't have known that those two rent-by-the-day camping spots stood on an old, unmarked cemetery. Native or pilgrim, you haven't the foggiest—all you know is that you picked a fight with a church grim who was only doing his job.

You almost died. It wasn't the typical brush with death that you've unfortunately become accustomed to, either. You could almost see a reaper standing off to the side, watching you wrestle the poor thing with little more on you that a Bowie knife.

You'd expected a werewolf. Probably a new turn. Someone you could reason with, or something you could shoot if you really had to. It happened all the time, sadly: newly turned werewolves with no-one teaching them the ropes or how to keep themselves contained. Very rarely did they really mean any harm. Most times, they took every scrap of advice you could give them and accepted the phone number you scribbled down on a diner napkin.

So no, you weren't prepared. You weren't even ready.

It was pure chance that you had a proper offering in your bag. A jar you'd shoved in there for something else, ages ago, and must've forgotten to take out. If it hadn't been for that jar, if it hadn't been for the rock it shattered over, the damned thing probably would have killed you. Mauled you, at the very least, if the state of your car was any indication of its ability.

You didn't want to stay here. You didn't want to be within ten miles of that campground. You left a note on the owner's cabin as you left. Advised he close them, repurpose them, anything but keep them open to the public unless he was going to get it certified as a historical burial site. With any luck, nobody with malicious intent would ever fall victim to that thing.

You wanted to go home. You wanted to curl up in a bed that smells like Damian, in a room decorated in his taste. You want to pass the fuck out in his arms, where you're safe, and you don't have to worry about church grims or werewolves or demons or whatever else.

You'll tell him later. Probably once he finds the bandage and starts shouting about why you didn't tell him earlier. Maybe once you're snuggled into his chest. Maybe once you've gotten something to eat.

"What do you want?"

Your eyebrows furrow, but you still refuse to open your eyes, even with a pair of his sunglasses shielding them. "Hmm?"

"To eat. What do you want to eat?"

"Chicken nuggets."

"From?"

"Don't care. Honey mustard, please."

"I know."

His hand is warm on the top of your thigh. Even with the heated seat turned on and the air circulating, his palm is defined through your denim. You hum quietly, shifting your own on top of it to keep it there.

You drift in and out of sleep for a little while longer, comforted by the smell of his cologne and the warmth of his presence.

Between catnaps, you wonder when he'll ask.

He's a logical person. He knows you could have gotten into a hotel and came home when the car was ready. He knows you wouldn't want to make an entire other trip down to pick up said car. And yet, you texted him anyway.

You'll tell him, when he does. You'll tell him that you didn't feel safe in that town, or maybe that you knew you'd feel safer with him. You'll tell him about the church grim and the glass jar and locking yourself in the car to scramble for a saving grace.

When you do, he'll get that pinched look on his face that he always gets when you tell him about your near-death adventures. You don't like it very much. In fact, you dislike it so much that you've almost lied to him a few times—but you promised honesty. Just like he did.

You wonder if you get a look like that when he tells you about swinging over chemical fires on a steel cable and squaring up with homicidal maniacs.

That's a problem for later, though. For right now, you're both content with sitting beside one another quietly. He's content to let you feed him fries while he drives you back to Gotham, and you're content to dunk nuggets into honey mustard dipping sauce while you ignore the ache in your arms.

What you don't know is that he's not content—he's plotting The Revenge of Sugar Tits.

#damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne imagine #swords and spells #damian wayne blurb #quillshalloweencollection

[the-east-art]

Fantail Pigeons and Mourning Doves - Part 3

The Very Long Stitching Up An Injury Scene

Mel watched the RV pull up to the pump. A woman stepped out, shoulders drawn and hands restless at her side. She talked to the driver of the car before closing the door and circling to the other side. He considered her physical countenance - it matched with the body language he had seen time and again at the gas station. Some kind of a mixture of exhaustion from a long haul in car and frustration with the companions they had willingly trapped themselves with. That kind of body language usually meant Mel smiling tightly as people yelled and argued at one another inside the store as he pretended he was no there, or a piece of decor. That kind of yelling and arguing always made his hands shake and his teeth clench, prepared for… something. 

Outside, the woman at the RV yelled something and the RV left to circle the lot for the fourth time. For five solid minutes, Mel had watched this RV attempt to get in the right position to fill its’ tank. A boxy van parked itself next to a pump, first try and everything. The woman - now directing the driver of the RV by waving her arms in wide semi-circles - shot a look at the van. Mel couldn’t make out the expression from his vantage point, but he assumed it was either envious or angry.

Mel cast himself out there alongside the woman, pictured himself waving his arms to help direct the van. He thinks it would look funny - his oversized sleeves would flop all over the place and emphasize the movement. In his projection of the event, he was able to make small-talk with the women and his efforts made it so that the RV did not have to circle the lot another time. In this version of events, he headed the issue off at the pass. With his help, both the woman and the driver were no longer frustrated, and by the time they entered the store, they were smiling and laughing together, along with however many occupants there were in the vehicle. They did not come in and yell at each other, or their kids, or at Mel. 

“Someone busy daydreaming?”

Mel is pulled out of his thought process the way that one plunges into an icy lake in mid-winter. He hadn’t even noticed the man enter the store. Mel forces his attention from the window, and as per usual has to work not to have his head at its’ usual permanent upward tilt. Wrens’ face beams back at him from the counter. 

“Sorry to interrupt - looked like it was a good one.” Wren comments, adjusting his items on the counter. He has a soda - one of the weird ones they carry in a glass bottle - and a bag of extra-sour gummy worms. 

“It wasn’t dreaming.” Mel replies. He contemplates for a moment explaining the projection to Wren. Zephs’ face instead swims forward in his memory, and he reaches for the soda. Wren isn’t wearing his usual get-up - the jacket and t-shirt combo. He’s instead donning a simple grey button-up tucked into his jeans. An iron-on decal over his breast pocket declares that his name is Wren. If he had been wearing this the other night, Mel wouldn’t have had to admit he had forgotten the name. He takes too long looking at Wrens’ appearance, and Wren breaks the silence as Mel hasn’t even rung up one of the two items yet. 

“Yeah I know, not exactly the most fashion-forward look. I have to be presentable though - play the part.” Mel tilts his head to the side without thinking, replaying the sentence over in his head. 

“What part do you have to play?” 

“I work as a handyman.” Wren waves a hand through the air. Mel thinks it makes it look like he’s trying to shoo away the topic of conversation. “Electrical, plumbing, the works. It’s something people need, ya know? But no one likes having a stranger in their house. A uniform, a nametag… helps put people more at ease.” Mel took a beat to imagine that. At the Seminary, there was always a sibling or aunt or uncle that could take care of anything, but at his current place, it was just him. He had never considered what he would do if the lights just suddenly stopped working, and pictured himself trying to sit and read on the mothball couch while someone he didn’t know prowled around the three small rooms. Even the idea made the hair on his arms rise from imaginary tension.

“I see.” Mel nodded to emphasize his understanding. The machine beeped as he rung up the items, and then snatched his hand before it could automatically push purchase to the card reader. Wrens’ face shifted into an easy-to-read smile as he passed over a few bills. 

“You remembered!” Wren said the words enthusiastically. His smile became smaller as he listened to the crisp ba-ling sounds of the register. The hedgehog sounds. Mel wondered what the smaller smile meant, and not for the first time he wished that he could understand those focal movements and body language as intrinsically as everyone else seemed capable of. Most days Mel felt like a foreigner struggling to understand the words of those who were native to the land, catching every fifth word and only halves of sentences. 

“This is long way from town.” Mel made the observation out loud. “Why is a handyman all the way out here?” Wrens’ hands - reaching for the gummy worms - freeze for half a second. He let out a laugh, a sharp staccato sound. Mel attempts to decipher the meaning. 

“I take care of work all over the place.” He waved one of his hands around as if to encompass the entire desert. “Down south, up north, out where the sun rises, out where it sets.”  Wren rocks his head side to side on his shoulders as he talks. “Everyone everywhere needs something taken care of, and shit, I need money.” He shrugs in a way similar to the first time that Mel and Wren had talked, but Mel thinks this one means something different. The conversation continues before he can fully analyze it. “I mean I’m talking someone to who works in a place where ‘middle of nowhere’ is the permanent address. You go where you gotta to make money.” 

“I like working here.” Mel casts a glance at the lot. The RV rolls into place, and there is much rejoicing from the woman at the pump and the three children that spill out from the doors. They’ll be in the store soon. For some reason that bothers Mel. He doesn’t usually care whether there are or aren’t customers - staring out the window is just as well as observing people in the store. But right now Mel doesn’t want this moment disturbed. In his lapse of attention Wren has changed his expression and posture. Mel is at a loss at what that means.

“No offense, Mel, but I worked retail for two years back when I was in High School and wanted to kill myself every day.” Wren has his items gathered up and should be ready to leave, but he makes no indication that he intends to wind down the conversation. The children have made their mad dash across the black asphalt. 

“I like the quiet.” Mels’ statement is immediately undercut by the yelling of the children, racing each other for the bathroom. Wren glances back in surprise and then turns back to Mel with a smirk on his face, clearly finding the serendipity of the moment funny. Mel takes a crack at a smile too. “I like how it’s quiet most of the time. I like…” Mel casts his thoughts back to the start of the conversation, and unintentionally his chin lifts up slightly. “...I like daydreaming.” 

“Cristopher Andrew put that down. We are not getting powdered doughnuts you’ll get the sugar everywhere.” The woman that had guided the RV has entered the store, her mood soured. She brings a chill air with her, superceding the August warmth that radiates off the nearby window. Wren catches the cold too, shifting uncomfortably, and checks his phone.

“Dangerous to come here - losing track of time chatting it up.” Wren adjusts the ballcap on his head, and when he smiles it makes his eyes thin. “But I guess if I want to see you I know where you are.” 

oOo

Mel doesn’t see Wren again for two weeks. It feels odd, to miss a customer. Mel is used to absence - impossible to grow up with dozens of siblings, share a room with nine other people, and not feel it once that was gone. Mel hates himself, a little, for getting attached to someone. If he needs to leave this place he will now leave a hole himself. He doesn’t like that thought. It leaves the impression that life is walking across paper with glue on his shoes. Wherever he walks he leaves that unseeable gap in reality. 

Wren certainly left an absence. Mel finds himself looking for either of his vehicles -the little green one or the large repair van. 

Like a dark tide, night comes in. That’s what Mel imagines, anyway, he’s never actually seen the ocean. His siblings used to on outings, leaving the Seminary in groups no bigger than a handful, sometimes for weeks at a time. They never told Mel what they did when they left, but they would tell him about where they went. He can still remember the way that Zeph was practically vibrating as he tried to describe what it was like to see the ocean, to stay and what the water creep up the coast, swallowing the sand like the slow prowl of a mountain lion. So really, the analogy went the other way - night is what Mel imagines the dark tide to be like. 

It leaves a strange effect on the gas station. During the day it’s easy to see that the gas station is in the middle of nowhere, but at night… at night lit up by the buzzing yellowed lights surrounded by the dark, the gas station feels like it’s in the middle of nothingness. Like it might be the only thing in the world that exists. Past the lots and pumps is nothingness. Cars and people are formed somewhere in there, crafted by God, and sent to Earth. The only Earth left in the black of space - to the gas station. 

The green car rips through the ocean of darkness. As if physically thrown out from the night it emerges at speed, barreling forward and across the lot. It brings with it a livliness - no - a it brings awareness. A jolt of adrenaline, of wrong. Like when a daring fox breaks the treeline and makes for the sheep. Like sitting in an empty chapel and Raguel busting throught the doors. 

Wren exits the car, slamming the door with force, movements rigid and jerky. His right arm is tightly wrapped around his midsection. He slams through the front door at such a force that Mel flinches. He doesn’t glance at Mel, or wave, or even acknowledge that Mel is in the room. Wren staggers straight through the shelves to the backthroom, and the door bangs closed behind him. 

The air remains charged as Mel stands behind the counter, eyes trained on the tiny hallway that contains the doors to the two bathrooms. Through the window the only two cars in existence are Mels’ and Wrens’, no one is at the pumps. 

Before he can let indicision freeze him in place any longer, Mel moves to the front door and locks it. He turns his back to the glass door. The small walkway to the bathroom suddenly seems infinitely long, stretching out before him. Off-grey tiles, dappled with black and white spots. Mel looks down, and spots of bright crimson look back up at him. One of them is smeared, presumably by Wrens’ stumbling steps. 

Mel is wrenching open the bathroom door before he even consciously thinks about it. Wren, sitting on the bathroom door, looks at Mel like he has been caught stealing something - Mel knows this expression he’s studied it enough times. It’s a mixture of fear, surprise, and shame. He used to see it all the time when he caught his younger siblings taking food from the storage outside of meals. That always carried with it an air of levity, absent in the present moment. Instead the air is weighed down as Mel surveys Wren and the situation he had just thoughtlessly thrust himself in to. 

Wrens’ jacket has been thrown off, tossed halfway across the small room. Wren is frozen in place, staring at Mel, and it leaves one of his hands in the middle of raising the hem of his shirt. There is a dark blotch on his shirt, stained and wet and torn, and it is raised enough that Mel can see the skin dyed red with blood under it and the corner of one of the lacerations. Wrens’ fingertips are already painted.

“Fuck, Mel, sorry, I didn’t know where else to go.” Wren breaks the reverence of the moment with the swear and finished riding up his shirt, fully exposing his abdomen as his other arm sifts through a duffle bag he had brought in with him. “I got this.” 

Mel can’t stop staring at the bleeding wound, Wrens’ stomach smeared with a crimson that shines under the flourescents. It’s a single slice through the skin, deep, a view into a world that is the dark color of clotted blood. Mel recalls, dimly, one time at the Seminary when he cut his food badly, and how Uncle Boaz had described it as ‘sliced into the meat of it’. 

The sight makes Mel want to burn his jacket. 

“What do you have?” 

“Just a knick.” Wren attempts to do his usual hand-waving gestures and inhales sharply through his teeth in pain, aborting the movement. “Nothing you need to worry about.” Mel shakes his head and comes to the ground, forcibly grabbing the duffle with an intensity he doesn’t mean. He feels only half connected to his body right now, like the other half of him is in the stratosphere instead of honing in on the matter at hand. 

Mel pauses in looking at the duffle bag and, this his right hand, harshly slaps himself across the face. 

“Focus focus focus.” He mutters under his breath, a mantra. Wren is staring at him, mouth open. 

“Are you okay?” Wren asks through tense vocal cords and twitching hands. Triumphantly Mel withdraws a smaller bag from the duffel - like a toiletry or make up bag - and opens it to reveal a wide variety of medical supplies. He begins to locate what he knows he’ll need - a spool of synthetic thread kept in it’s own baggie, a needle, small pliers, a pair of tiny sewing scissors. The black lighter from the first time Wren had come into Mel’s life. Mel looks back at the wound. It’s still bleeding - the limping to the bathroom can’t have helped - but not as profusely as it could be. 

“This needs to be cleaned.” Mel says the words out loud, but he hears them through the voice of Aunt Apollonia. Internally Mel flicks through the contents of the store - rags rags rags where are the rags right now. He rises to his feet and tosses the jacket back at Wren. “Put the pressure back on.” And he’s out the door. 

It’s strange to leave the bathroom. The rest of the store doesn’t seem to know what’s going on, ringing as hollow and quiet as it usually does. Through the glass doors Mel can see a car at pump 7. The world is turning on its’ axis everywhere but in that room. Mel snags one of the rags where they sit folded up behind the counter and sheds the maroon jacket, leaving it like a stand-in on his usual stool. 

Wren doesn’t look up when Mel re-enters, braced up against the wall with his eyes squeeze tight, his jacket balled up and tightly pressed against the wound in a grip tight enough to see his tendons and all the muscles in his forearm. Mel returns to kneeling on the ground infront of Mel after wetting the towl at the sink, reaching place one of his hands ontop of Wrens’. Wren inhales sharply at the touch and allows Mel’s light touch to lead his hand away from the clump of bloody cloth. 

“This is going to hurt.” Mel looks at Wren at the admission, as if it’ll be news. Wren sucks in another breath and just nods. As carefully as possible Mel detaches the blood jacket, placing it off to the side to stain the floor, carefully not to disturb the wound too much risk tearing out the clotting blood. With a tender and deft hand Mel begins to dab at the area around the wound, cleaning up the blood enough to get a better view of what he was working with. It would be impossible to fully clean Wren’s stomach with the small piece of cloth, but just getting a feel of the area would help. The places that manage to get cleaned up adequately enough reveal the forms of other scars, long healed. Not Wrens’ first rodeo, then. 

Wren stared at the long cut and bit his lip. The thickly clotted blood was good for keeping Wren from losing more of it, but the wound should also be cleaned of current bacteria. Did the store have anything to disinfect a wound? Did Wren? They never did at the Seminary, but they had also had the watchful eyes of his experienced Aunts and Uncles. Here there was just Mel and Wren.

“You need a hospital.” Mel muttered and looked back at the duffel bag. 

“Kinda far away from one of those right now.” Wren said wryly. Mel withdrew a bottle from the bag, shaking it to get a feel of how full it was. 

“Water?” 

“Lemonade.” Wren replied. Mels’ lip was starting to bleed from fussing at it too much. 

At the sink he rinsed the bottle out, then pumped from hand soap in and rinsed that through a couple times too. Hopefully clean enough, Mel filled it with water from the tap and screwed the lid back on. He squeezed the water over the wound, dislodging coagulated blood and hopefully anything left in the wound from whatever the weapon had been. It ran down Wrens’ abdomen in rivulets, and Mel patted the surrounding area with the towel for want of something else to do. He refilled the bottle two more times and repeated the process. Wren was silent through the ministrations, taking deep breaths through his rose and out his mouth. 

Clenching the needly between his fingers and holding the lighter tightly in his other hand he attempted to disinfect it. At least Wrens’ eyes were closed so he couldn’t see the number of attempts it took for Mel to make the lighter work. He hated these things, they made him feel like a child with fingers too clumsy to get back safety measures. Once he got a steady flame, he held the needle up to it.

“Fuck.” His fingers spasmed apart and dropped the needle onto the definitely not sterile floor. Stupid stupid stupid. Mel echoed the word in his head. Shouldn’t heave been holding it like that anyways. He picked the needle back up and held it with the pliers this time. “Fuck.” He repeated as he fumbled with the lighter. 

Wren let out a small laugh and made a grunt of pain. 

“You don’t look like you swear.” He muttered, voice constrained as he attempted not to use the muscles in his stomach as he spoke. Mel didn’t reply. Zeph and Astrophel had always found it funny when he swore, used to encourage it when he was younger. Uncle Haniel had grabbed the switch when he’d heard him swear like that. 

He put away the lighter, hoping it had done anything to made this more sterile. Slapped his face again, trying to push away the thoughts of the past. He allowed them to come in and out at work, do their damage with their mix of nostalgia and pain and loss, but not here and not now.

“I’m going to start the stitches now.” Mel said and Wren nodded along. 

He instantly wished that the had a curved needle to work on this with. One steadying breath, and Mel pierced the skin. It always put up more resistance than he was expecting. Despite Mel’s attempts to remain int he present, the tactile memory invaded his senses. Sitting a table, hunched over a freshly dead pig from the field, Aunt Apollonia guiding him through the process. 

‘One day’ She would say. ‘Someone will need you to fix them up when they get home.’ Mel would do his best not to look into the pig’s unseeing eyes. 

‘What do they do when they leave?’ She’s smack him across the knuckles for that. 

‘You’re better off not knowing. Do not ask again, Melchior.’

When Mel comes back to the moment, he is already knotting the other side of the first stitch. He snips the thread and starts the second one. It is different than working on a dead pig, the flesh beneath his hands rises and falls gently, occasionally hitching under him when Wren loses his control over his self-imposed calm. Second stitch finished, pinching the skin together. Is this too tight? Is that possible with stitches? Mel can’t recall right now. Somewhere in the back of his mind he wants to know how many cars are currently in the lot. 

“You done this before?” Wren asks. 

“When I’m finished I’m going to need to drive you to a hospital.” Wren talking provides the room for Mel to voice his own thoughts. Wren lets out a grimace sound. The third stitch is tied and snipped. He’s doing the distance between each suture by what he can recall being right, just feeling it out. 

“Aren’t you on shift?” 

“I don’t think you can drive yourself.” Mel responds, and Wren grumbles to himself in an inaudible voice as the fourth, fifth, and sixth place line up like soldiers. 

“You’re going to get yourself in trouble, leaving in the middle of a shift.” Wren finally says. Seven. Eight. Wren is patient. 

“You’re going to get an infection or worse if a professional doesn’t look at this. You’ve clearly been hurt before, you should know that.” Mel glances back at the scars for a moment and flexes his hands. He forgot how sticky blood was. It’s unpleasant. Has never liked his hands having anything on them. Nine. Ten. 

“Comes with the job?” Wren doesn’t even attempt to make the statement pass inspection, turning it to a question at the end like he’s asking if Mel would buy that excuse. Eleven. Mel doesn’t want to keep counting these, he’s only about halfway. Twelve. 

“You aren’t in uniform.” Mel replies. “And you drove your regular car, not your van.” Thirteen.

“You’re observant.” Wren seems to pick his words for stitches fourteen and fifteen. “I was taking care of different business. My, uh, my hobby I guess. Or passion project.” Sixteen. “Uh, don’t ask more details. I’m not good at lying about this shit, and I don’t think the blood loss is doing me any favors here.” Seventeen. His words, despite being distinct, still ring of Aunt Apollonia’s statement. 

“No one tell me shit.” Mel grits out around stitch eighteen. “I needed to be observant to glean anything worthwhile.” Suffocating silence follows his statement. Nineteen. Twenty. 

Mel sighs and rocks back on his heels, flexing his hands, blinks his eyes several times. His fingers are tired and sticky. He needs to wash them, but Mel doesn’t really feel like standing up. When he glances up it’s to see Wren checking over the work. His facial muscles are pinched, and whether it is in an emotion or in pain Mel can’t tell. Frankly he’s too exhausted to try and guess. 

“Twenty exactly.” Wren says, and tugs his blood stained shirt back down, making some kind of an expression as he reaches for his jacket. Mel stays crouched, looking at his hands. They’re red and orange and sticky. Different than the blood of an animal, somehow. Memories flash through his mind - snippets of words and images. Behind him, the sink runs for a moment - Wren stood up at some point on his own. Mels’ never been hurt like that, but considering how he’d been acting, Mel knows he shoudl be surprised that Wren managed it. The bloods under his fingernails. He rubs his hand against the palm of his hand until the dirrt and crime and viscera stands to roll together in clumps. 

Mels’ view of his hands is abruptly cut off as a wet rag lands ontop of his hands, still dripping water. 

“Thank you.” Wren says from above him. He has his duffle swung over his shoulder - must have gathered up the materials while Mel was distracted. Without thinking, Mel starts to use the rag to wipe down his hands. The rag itself is still dirty despite Wrens’ attempts to rinse it. Mel doesn’t look at his hands and rises to his feet. “Now you were gonna put your job in danger and get me to a hospital, right?” Wren starts to head out the bathroom without waiting.

Mel washes his hands. 

#the east writes #fantail pigeons and mourning doves