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wintaerbaer · 5 months

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seven storms (jjk) (m)

summary: As a young woman of considerable wealth, it has always been your father's expectation that you would marry one of the local aristocrats once you came of age. Your family's stable hand? Certainly not an option.

pairing: Jungkook x Reader

rating: 18+ (MINORS DNI)

genres: forbidden love, angst, a bit of fluff, also a bit of smut

word count: 9.0k

warnings: ambiguous time periods, oc’s mom passed away when she was a child, parental strain and turbulent relationships, it’s not explicitly stated but bang sihyuk is oc’s dad, find the ‘seven’ reference, BRIEF SMUT (in the form of missionary, cowgirl, and implied unprotected, which you should not do)

a/n: this one is for the obs discord server, who came up with this plot and then flattered me until i agreed to write it lol

MASTERLIST // Read on ao3

It begins with a clap of thunder.

The dark clouds had rolled in quickly during your morning ride, the rain holding off on its looming descent even as the wind picks up and throws strands of hair across your face. You try to cling to every minute you have left before the downpour, savoring your alone time and the peaceful quiet of the morning. It may even be worth getting a little wet, you think as you watch the new stable hand effortlessly sling a bay of hale over his shoulder, for the chance to savor every moment of your daily ritual before the weather inevitably forces you back inside.

You love the simple pleasures of fresh air and the soft rustle of the grass.

Jungkook glances at you from afar as he continues his work, and even at this range, you can see his muscles shifting under the fabric of his shirt. It’s been roughly a month since your father hired him to tend the stable on your family’s estate, and while he hasn’t been unpleasant, giving you a friendly but silent nod each day as you prepare for your ride, he’s mostly kept his distance.

Today, however, is a different story entirely as a boom sounds out above your head. Your horse, a young stallion named Bam who is still being broken, startles at the noise and begins to nervously pace, tamping down the dirt under his hooves. The reins wrap tighter around your fingers as you attempt to take firmer control, but when a second crack emanates through the sky, the horse begins to buck in an attempt to throw you off.

The laws of physics cease to exist, time simultaneously speeding up and slowing down as you work to maintain your balance, clenching your muscles around the horse's back. A particularly violent whip of his head rips the reins free, and all you can do is try to flatten yourself to his back and hold on for dear life.

A pair of unfamiliar hands shoots into your peripheral vision, stroking firmly at the stallion's head and neck until he's easing back down, his erratic motions steadying until you can safely sit back up and face your rescuer.

"Are you alright?" His eyes scan your body for injury, moving from your face all the way down to your toes and back up.

You use the time to perform your own appraisal. The first thing you notice is that while he had immediately struck you as handsome when you first saw him around the property, he’s even more attractive up close: all soft eyes, perfect lips, and a tiny scar on his cheek that only adds to his allure. Add to that strong arms, broad shoulders, and a section of clearly-chiseled chest peeking out of his shirt, and you have to admit to yourself that you’re already halfway gone.

“Y/N?” His eyebrows dip as he frowns, clearly suspecting some kind of head injury as a result of your silence.

“You know my name.”

His expression turns quizzical at your bizarre answer. “I work for you. Of course I know your name.”

“You work for my father.”

“And you by extension.”

Your spine stiffens with rebellion. “I have no interest in bossing men around.”

“Why not?” He taps his knuckles on the saddle. “I see you come out to ride every morning. I could certainly tack up a horse for you in advance.”

“Because I’m perfectly capable of doing it myself.”

His perfect lips curl at the edges. “I don’t doubt that.”

Your heart stutters a rhythm behind your ribcage, voice muted by the appearance of a dimple that dips into his left cheek. It’s not often you find yourself speechless, and the sheer unfamiliarity of it has you on the brink of a flight response; you begin to gently guide your horse back towards the stable, Jungkook walking at your side. To your surprise, he doesn’t stay quiet.

“So how long have you been riding?”

You peek down at him, but he’s not looking at you as he scratches the stallion under his muzzle. “Since I was five,” you say. “My father arranged for private instruction after my mother died. Thought I could use the distraction.”

You figured he already knew about your mother’s passing due to her absence from the estate, and his unfazed expression seems to confirm as much. Still, in a gentle voice he says, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You didn’t make her sick.” Another low rumble echoes through the sky, but Jungkook is prepared, already smoothing his hand over the Bam’s neck again. “What about you? How long have you worked with horses?”

He chuckles, and your belly warms. “Since before I could walk. I grew up on a ranch. Have probably spent more time around horses than people—not that I’m complaining.” A shrug pulls his shirt tight across his bulging shoulders. “Animals are better company, in my opinion.”

“You say while striking up conversation with a stranger.”

Pink blooms on his cheeks, but, to his credit, he recovers quickly. “Beautiful women are the exception.”

Heat rises to your own face, and you choose to ignore his comment as much as it has butterflies taking off behind your bellybutton. “I understand what you mean though. That’s why I’m out here every day.”

“You like the outdoors?”

“Very much,” you say. “The smell of the wind, the feeling of the sunshine on my skin and the earth under my shoes. I like to ride down to the sunflower fields and watch how they turn themselves towards the light. There’s a strange sense of kinship there.” You’re not sure what drives you to share all this with a man you’ve just met, but the way he nods along as if he agrees sets your heart at ease. “And the horses are, in fact, good company.”

He laughs again, tipping his head back to look at you. His dark hair brushes his forehead, jaw cutting so sharp a line that the temptation immediately hits to trace it with either your fingers or lips—you’re not sure which. You don’t even care if you’ll bleed.

It strikes you at that moment that you’re in a world of trouble.

The skies open up, the rain instantly pouring down in fat drops as you briskly rush your horse the rest of the way into the stable, Jungkook hot on your heels. You dismount once you’re inside and begin to untack the stallion, moving the reins up and over so you can remove the bridle first. Jungkook quickly steps in to help unhitch the saddle, and while you’d normally be inclined to make a fuss about how you can handle your own gear, you find that you much enjoy his quiet companionship. You like watching the way his gentle hands artfully work to simultaneously manage the equipment and relax the horse, giving the sense that he’s offering assistance only because he loves his work and not to patronize you as a woman (you’ve seen one too many men try to step in because they believe you to be incompetent).

Once Bam has been settled into his stall, you turn back to your companion and are met with big brown eyes already gazing at you, hands stuffed into his pockets.

“Thank you for your help today,” you say. “I may be an experienced rider, but that also means I know enough to understand that you likely saved me from an injury earlier. So thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure.” He looks suddenly subdued, nervous now without the horse as a buffer. “And if I may be forward, I hope I made a good first impression. I wouldn’t want a beautiful woman like yourself to think I overstepped.”

“That’s the second time you’ve mentioned beautiful women now. You speak with them a lot?”

“Not recently,” he says, dimple making another appearance. “Only one.” His voice drops a decibel, flirtation giving way to sincerity. “But truly, I do just like to help. I am sure you are perfectly capable, but just because we can do something doesn’t mean we always need to do it alone. If I can help ease a burden, then I would like to do so.”

Warmth floods through you like the rain currently running off the roof, and before you can even think about it any further, you find yourself nodding. “Very well.”

The smile he gives you brightens your day more than a hundred miles of sunflower fields ever could.

“I won’t keep you then.” He begins walking backwards towards the troughs where most of the horses have currently congregated. “But I do very much look forward to seeing you tomorrow.”

You do, too. And when you show up to the stable the next morning (and the next, and the next), you already have a horse saddled up for you, a single sunflower resting on the seat.

Raindrops clatter in endless sheets off the metal roof of the stable, the ringing sound blending with the blasts of thunder and lightning overhead to mask your groans as Jungkook steadily thrusts into you.

It’s been three months since your flirtation culminated in you asking him to join you for a ride one morning.

Three months since he accompanied you down to the sunflower fields, pulled you into their depths, and kissed you like his life depended on it.

Three months since the rain became your closest friend, providing you the cover you need for your more intimate moments—such as this evening when you’d arrived at the stables to find him laying down a fresh layer of straw, the flex of his arm insisting that you needed him now.

The patter of the rain ensures his moans are for your ears and your ears alone.

“Do you think the horses mind?” he mumbles into the sensitive skin of your neck as he presses even deeper into you and steals your breath, his hands cupping your ass as he grinds his hips.

“I doubt it,” you gasp, digging your nails into his back. “They’ve kept secrets for me before.”

He laughs, and you relish in the feel of the vibration of his chest pressed to yours, as if the sound is being passed directly from his lungs to your heart. “Am I your secret then?”

“My favorite secret.”

He pulls back to look at you then with wide eyes. You don’t know when it happened, when he became the absolute center of your universe, but you also know that you’ve never been this happy in your life, never felt as whole as you do with him. So you stare at him right back, absorb every angle of his face as he brushes the hair away from your eyes and kisses you with an unusual delicacy in comparison to the rough pace of his hips.

“I love you.”

It’s not the first time he’s said it, but your blood heats as if the words are brand new.

He rises up above you then, leans back so he can bend your knees to your chest and pound into you in earnest, and you’d swear the roof has disappeared and you can see every star in the sky. Galaxies swirl, planets align, and it’s not long before you’re falling over the edge and he’s following you with a deep groan—a harmony to the thunder that surrounds you.

The two of you collapse into a heap, and he pulls you into his side, your cheek pressed to his still-heaving chest. It’s serene, the consonance of his breathing alongside the tapping of the rain and the occasional snuffle from the horses.

“So, the horses are keeping secrets for you, huh?” It’s a quiet question, vulnerable as he gazes at you with tender devotion. The same stars you saw minutes ago twirl in his eyes. “Can I be told one?”

“Are you a horse?”

A breath of a laugh: “Well you’ve certainly ridden me before.”

He has a point there.

You hum to yourself as you think before asking, “What is your dream?”

“What does that have to do with—“

“Answer mine, and I’ll answer yours.”

Calloused fingers trace patterns on your hip, a faraway look taking over his expression as he envisions some distant future. “To own my own farm,” he says. “I want to be my own boss. No more having to serve others.” A smile dances at the corners of his mouth. “And I’d be able to provide for my family—have a few kids and teach them the ropes, just like my dad did with me.”

Your brow dips in confusion. “You won’t inherit your father’s farm?”

“No, it’ll go to my older brother.” He squeezes your hip on a sigh. “If I want my own farm, it’s up to me to earn it.”

“You’ll do it,” you say, and you believe it with every fiber of your heart. “I know you will. You’re the hardest working man I’ve ever met.”

It’s not a lie by any stretch. You’ve spent plenty an afternoon telling your father that you’re going to read out on the veranda as it gives you an inconspicuous way to watch Jungkook work. He’s diligent, tireless, and you’ve often used the need to bring him water as an excuse to go down and spend time with him, seeing the sweat drip off his forehead as he single-handedly trains and cares for the horses.

His eyes become glassy, a gruff clearing of his throat as he pushes the tears back and grazes his lips over yours in a gentle kiss instead. “Thank you.” But before you can deepen the kiss and distract him, he shifts ever so slightly away, a glint in his eye. “Now you.”

You puff a sigh into his chest—bold of you to think you’d be able to sneak one past such an observant stare. Still, your secrets don’t usually come forth easily, buried deep within the cavity of your ribcage so even you don’t have to dwell on them too long.

Something about those doe eyes, though, render you ever vulnerable.

“Mine is similar to yours. I want to be my own boss.”

His brows pull together. “No one would expect a lady like you to work.”

“Not for a job, for my life,” you say, irritation forcing the words from your lips now. “I don’t want my father to dictate the path my life takes. I want to choose it, whatever it is, for myself. To be in charge of my own fate.”

Jungkook is quiet for a long moment, teeth dipping into his lower lip as he considers your words. It’s something else you’ve grown to love about him, the way he stops and thinks before he reacts. So unlike your father who has always been nothing but big emotions and snap judgments.

“What would you choose?” is the question he eventually comes out with, and the pads of his fingers trace the jut of your hipbone like he’s memorizing it.

Well that’s another matter entirely. “I don’t know. Just not what my father wants for me.”

“And what would that be?”

“To marry one of the rich dandies in town,” you blurt, and his hands still. “That’s always been the expectation that’s been set since I was a girl—that my family would arrange a suitable match for me.” You’re practically spitting now, anger simmering through you. “Suitable, of course, meaning wealthy.”

“Is that so bad?” He asks it quietly, insecurity poorly masked in the way his voice trembles ever so slightly. “Some people would do almost anything to be in your position.”

You scoff. “There’s more to life than money.”

“Like what?”

“Fresh air, sunshine, the smell of the morning dew.” You tap his chest with everything you list off, as if they’re all housed within the framework of his torso. “The sound of the rain bouncing off windows, the bright yellow of sunflowers after their first bloom, watching a foal get its legs under it for the first time. Love.” You press your hand to his heart with that one, feeling the strong beat of it under your palm. “That’s the greatest thing.”

He snags your fingers, bringing them to his lips and kissing each one in succession before his hand slips into your hair so he can join his mouth with yours. The kiss is slow, thorough, his tongue trailing along your lower lip with determination as he drags you across his body until you’re straddling him.

“You’re right about that,” he murmurs before gripping your waist tightly so he can push back into you, the rain pouring on and on.

“No!”

Your father stands up so suddenly that his chair topples over with a crash, Jungkook sitting across from him wearing a look of even-keeled surprise; his eyes widen a fraction, but his overall posture remains resolved and confident.

“You dare have the audacity to even ask—“ He chokes on his words, spit flying from the edges of his lips, before pointing a finger towards where you stand stunned in the corner. “And you! You’ve been fraternizing with this riffraff? After everything I’ve taught you? Everything I did to raise you? You go and choose to associate with this—this—“ You’re worried his eyes might fall out of his head with the way they bulge as he grasps for a word, vein in his neck visibly thumping as he finds it. “Lowlife!”

“You’re wrong!” you scream as Jungkook continues to sit quietly at the dinner table. You’ll be damned if you’d just stand by and allow him to be spoken about in that way. “He’s an incredible man. He works hard, he’s respectful, and he loves me, Father. Not because of my money, but because I’m me.” Your steps echo off of the tall, looming arches of the ceiling as you move closer to Jungkook. “And I love him.”

“No, no, absolutely not. You’re only twenty years old. You don’t even know what love is,” your father barks before turning his beady eyes on Jungkook again. “You’ll never marry my daughter. You do not have my permission nor my blessing. That’s final.”

“Father—“

“You’re also fired,” he spits. “You can say goodbye and that’s the end of it. I want you off my property.” Then he’s storming out of the dining room, leaving you and Jungkook in heavy silence.

It’s only a handful of seconds before Jungkook is rising to his feet and striding from the room and out the front door, you hot on his heels. The steady drizzle soaks your clothes in a matter of moments, but you don’t even feel the way they cling to your skin, focused solely on the man in front of you.

“Jungkook!” you call, but he doesn’t respond, doesn’t turn to face you until you manage to grab ahold of his hand and tug.

You thought he’d be distressed, angry, perhaps even crying. Instead, you’re met with intensity, a fierce determination simmering under the warm brown of his irises as his gaze bores into yours and almost has you faltering.

“Jungkook, I…” You wring your hands in front of you, watch the rain run in rivulets off the ends of his hair. “We can make it through this. I can convince him—“

“You can’t.”

You huff in frustration. “Then we’ll run away together! I’ll come with you and we’ll—“

“No, Y/N.” He stills the frantic movements of your hands with his own, drawing you towards the warmth of his body until you’re nearly chest-to-chest. “I have no savings right now, no way to support the two of us. We’d be out on the street in a matter of days.” He shakes his head, brushes a kiss to your knuckles. “No. You need to stay here for now. But this isn’t the end of us, I swear to you. I am going to work myself to the bone—until I have nothing left to give. Until I can buy my own farm, my own house, and give you everything you need.” Your foreheads press together, drops of water clinging to his lips and drawing your eye as he speaks. “I will provide for you someday, love you to the best of my ability. Just give me time.”

The heavens open above you, the relentless downpour backed by the cacophony of the skies as you finally move to kiss him. He tastes of rainwater and sweat, the fragrant aroma of sunflowers and nights spent tangled together in the stables. You savor the feel of his lips against yours, commit to memory the way his tongue begs for entrance, the way you grant it with a groan that feels like both a prayer and a curse.

With a final, resounding crack, he’s pulling away as you cling to the rough skin of his fingertips until the very last fraction of a second, arms stretched to their absolute limit. And when he turns his back on you, shirt plastered to his skin, you’d swear you can hear the horses raging in the stable, the rumble of hooves and agitated whinnies ringing in your ears long after he’s disappeared from view.

The first letter comes on a Wednesday roughly six week later, written on carefully folded parchment paper in small, neat handwriting. It surprises you, coming from a man who spends all day tending horses and tossing around hay bales. You receive the letter from the carrier quietly, rushing it up to your room and waiting to read until the concealment of night has fallen and you’re confident your father has gone to bed.

My Love,

I must admit that I am not quite sure how long it has been since I last saw you. Perhaps only a handful of weeks, surely, but every hour, minute, and second has felt like an eternity. I miss you, sweetheart. I miss the sound of your laugh. I miss the way you’d look each morning, strolling down from the house with a bounce in your step and the early sunshine bouncing off of your hair. Or perhaps you are just that radiant. I would believe it, you know, that light emits from your very smile, and I know I feel warmer whenever I am around you.

Look at me; look at the man you've turned me into. I've always considered myself a simple being, glad to indulge in the dirt and physical labors of the outdoors, and yet you have me waxing poetic like one of the men in those romance novels you would always pretend to read on the veranda. (Yes, my dear, I noticed. Your stares are not so subtle.) I am lovesick, homesick, and it’s all because of you. Because my life truly began the day I looked up and saw Bam struggling with you on his back and just knew I had to help you (tell that dear beast that I miss him by the way).

Now, I must live my life forlorn, but not without purpose. Please know that I am doing everything in my power to get back to you, and I will not rest until I am holding you in my arms again. I have secured a job at a ranch several towns over; it’s good work with decent pay, and every cent that does not go towards the barest necessities is being saved for us. One day, my love. One day we will have a house and a farm, and I will be able to love you openly, with no need for secrets or the cover of rain.

In the meantime, just know how terribly I miss you, and though we are separated by distance, I hold you in my heart each day. On my way each morning from my lodgings to the ranch, I pass by a field of sunflowers. I know it cannot possibly be true, but it feels like every golden face turns towards me as I go, and darling, I’d swear I see you in every one.

One day, my love.

Until then, always yours,

J.K.

It becomes something of a ritual: while you used to spend your days out on the veranda pretending to read so that you could watch Jungkook from afar, you now settle on the front porch with a book each afternoon in the hopes of catching the local mail carrier. Jungkook’s letters come slowly but consistently every couple of weeks, and each time a letter does arrive, you spend the night drafting your own by candlelight to send back to him.

He tells you about his new job, how he’s working on a larger farm now with several other laborers. The veterans are kind to him and teaching him a lot, he says, and it eases the ache in your heart a fraction to know that he seems happy where he is and well taken care of. You write back about your favorite books that you’ve been reading and how the horses have been (you insist that you can tell Bam misses Jungkook too). But both of your letters are saturated with sentiments of love and how dearly you miss each other, reminding yourselves that every day that passes is one day closer to you two being reunited, whenever that may be.

Your father, meanwhile, proceeds as if Jungkook never existed, hiring a new stable hand who begins his work mere days after Jungkook has left. This man is middle aged, gray already streaking through his hair, and you can’t help but feel it’s a deliberate choice on your father’s part lest you fall for another lowly laborer. And though you know it is not his fault, you barely speak with the man outside of a few curt pleasantries when you go for your ride each morning.

You persist in your morning rides out of habit, but you find that they don’t bring you the same kind of joy that they used to. The grass isn’t quite as green, the air is often stifling, and the sunflowers droop where they used to stand tall against the blue skies. On one day, roughly six months after Jungkook’s firing, you’re once again forced back inside early due to rain, the storm dampening your already dreary mood. It takes a turn for the worst when you hear your father call your name the moment you step in the door and plummets entirely off a cliff when you trudge into the dining room to see a man sitting at the table.

Seokjin is not entirely unfamiliar to you—your families run in the same circles after all—but he is ultimately little more than a stranger, the two of you having only exchanged a handful of polite words at dinner parties and the like. All that you truly know of him is that he is the heir to the wealthiest trading company on this side of the country and that his father is expected to transition the entire operation to him over the next few years.

Even so, Seokjin greets you with a sense of intimate familiarity, standing at your approach and brushing his lips against the back of your hand before you can stop him.

“A pleasure to see you, Y/N, as always.”

You know that social etiquette requires you to return the sentiment, but instead, you find yourself looking between Seokjin and your father, trying to figure out his purpose here.

“What is going on?”

Your father grimaces at your rudeness but opts to ignore it. “Seokjin has come here with a rather exciting opportunity, Y/N, if you would take a seat and listen to him.”

However, you remain standing, spine stiff and wary eyes shifting to the man in front of you with his finely tailored clothes and perfectly combed hair. He, for what it’s worth, doesn’t cower under your stony gaze, maintaining an air of utmost confidence as he states, “Y/N, I would like for you to marry me.”

“No.”

Your answer is immediate and blunt, coming so quickly that Seokjin barely reacts—only the tiniest dip of his mouth as if he doesn’t believe he heard you correctly. But your father leaps to his feet, face red with shock and frustration.

“Y/N, you sit down and listen to the man.”

“I don’t need to listen,” you snap. “My answer is no.”

Seokjin registers your words then, face morphing into a deep frown of disbelief as your father hurries to intervene, grabbing you around the arm to pull you out of the dining room and turning on you the moment you are out of earshot.

“Insolent girl! That man will soon be one of the most powerful in the country—nay, the world! Do you understand the opportunity he is offering you? The life he is offering? How dare you refuse him!”

“Whatever life he is offering is one I want no part of,” you argue, pulling your arm from his grasp to wrap them across your chest. “I have no interest in being married to a man like that. I want to be with someone who loves me.”

He goes deathly still for a moment, drawing connections in his head until you see the moment the realization hits him. “This is about that lousy stable boy, isn’t it?”

You say nothing, only hug yourself tighter and try to swallow down the sudden lump in your throat.

“That’s it, yes? You’re still holding onto some hope that he will come back for you and what? The two of you will go off and live in some hovel? What could he possibly offer you?” he snarls. “No, Y/N. That vermin is gone. You have a chance—a real chance—at a future here, and I’ll be damned if I let you throw it away for the idea of some lower class scum.”

As his words sink in, a chill passes through your body that’s quickly replaced with a white-hot anger, your hands dropping to your sides as you straighten your back in defiance.

“Whether Jungkook returns or not,” you assert, “please be assured that I will never, ever, marry one of your suitors. I will die before I become a mere pawn for your business deals.”

Your father stares at you incredulously, eyes practically bursting from his head. “Business deals? I am looking out for you. So that you can live the luxurious life a child of mine deserves.”

“The life I deserve is the one which I want,” you exclaim. “And these rich dullards are not it.”

Final word given, you spin on your heel in emphasis and march off to your room, leaving your father to clumsily patch things up in the dining hall with a humbled and deeply befuddled Seokjin.

The letters stop two years in.

A month passes, then two, then three before you begin to really worry. Another four gone in a blink before you start to consider that you may never actually hear from him again.

For a while, you continue to write to him, thinking that at the very least, if he’s moved to a new job, someone from his old ranch may forward them along if they know where he’s gone to. But after a year of silence transpires, the mail carrier shaking his head at you each day as you rush to meet him outside your house, true dread sets in.

Your address hasn’t changed, which means that he’s stopped writing to you for some reason. Is it possible that he’s moved on? Met another woman perhaps and chosen to settle down? Or…could it be something worse? Your mind hesitates to even go down this path, the terror seeping into your bones, but the thought creeps in late at night when you’re at your most vulnerable that something may have happened to him. Work accidents, illness—any number of dangerous things could have taken him from you without you even knowing. Then again, he sounded healthy in his final letter to you, no word at all of him being ill, and you’d like to think he would’ve arranged for someone to contact you if some tragedy had befallen him.

You conclude, then, that he must have given up. And really, after years of hoping for a shift, for some change in fortune for your futures, you cannot entirely blame him. If anything, you just wish you had seen the signs sooner, sensed some kind of shift in tone that would have prepared you for his sudden silence. His last letter, though, had been much of the same—more updates on his ranching job mixed in with poetic phrases about his love for you. You read it endlessly, poring over the words for some indication that his feelings for you had waned, sitting huddled in a hidden corner of the stables as rain pounds down against the tin roof. Instead, it just makes your heart ache to remind you of love found and lost, his final words haunting you as time continues to drag on to your dismay.

As the months tick by, you keep your promise to your father, steadfastly refusing each suitor that comes to call for you: Jung Hoseok, Kim Namjoon, and even Min Yoongi, who shows up in your dining room every evening for a fortnight before finally accepting your refusal. Meanwhile, you move through your days as if by design, going through the motions without feeling like you’re actually alive. Food is tasteless, your books void of thought, and the skies have certainly lost their color. You find that you actually prefer rainy days now, often taking walks through the drizzle and allowing the droplets of water to slide over your skin and caress you as he once did. Sometimes, it almost makes you feel as if he’s there beside you—memories of thunder and slick kisses enveloping your thoughts and soaking you from the inside out.

No fewer than seven years pass this way, with you haunting the premises of your home while your father begins to complain about you becoming a leech and a burden. You begin to question it yourself, wondering if it may be too much to waste away like this, when, three days after your twenty-seventh birthday, a discovery has you running from your father’s house and never looking back.

It’s another dreary, rainy day, and you, wanting to soak in the full effect of the emblematic weather as it pertains to your mood, have once again parked yourself on the front porch with a book. Your father passed you on his way out earlier, casting a scathing look that you didn’t even bother to grant any attention—you’ve long grown accustomed to his contempt and futile glares.

A little past midday, you glance up at the sound of a person approaching, their footsteps ricocheting off the front steps. Park Jimin comes to a halt under the porch’s cover, gazing at you curiously as if wondering why you are outside in this weather at all. However, if he finds your behavior strange, he doesn’t say anything, a choice which comes of no surprise to you. One of your father’s youngest business partners, you’ve always liked Jimin during the times that you’ve interacted with him. He’s quiet, polite, and has never made an attempt at courting you, always respecting the boundaries that many other young men have tried to cross over the years.

That being said, you’re inclined to at least offer him a greeting, acknowledging his presence with a mannered, “Hello, Mr. Park.”

“Good day,” he responds with a small bow in your direction. “Is your father at home?”

“No, he had to attend a business meeting with Mr. Kim this morning.” You frown as his face falls, a touch of panic widening his eyes. “Is something wrong?”

A delicate finger rises to rub at his temple. “Ah, I’m supposed to be finalizing a contract with Hybe Trading Company later this afternoon,” he says. “Your father told me to come pick up the documents beforehand.”

“He may be back soon,” you guess. Your father didn’t give an indication of exactly when he would return, but you do know his meeting with Kim Taehyung wasn’t supposed to last all day.

“I may not be able to take that risk.” He chews at his lip, thinking. “Is it possible that he left the contracts for me somewhere? Might you be able to check?”

Your jaw drops a fraction at his request—you could count on one hand the number of times that you’ve been in your father’s office. “I don’t think—“

“Please, Y/N,” Jimin begs. “We can’t afford to lose this partnership.”

The desperation in his expression has you acquiescing, and so you lead him inside and tell him to wait in the entryway as you head to your father’s office on the second floor.

The room is arguably the grandest in the house, with magnificent windows that give a full view of the estate’s grounds and tall bookshelves packed with your father’s collection of texts. The finest rugs protect the hardwood under your feet, and at the center of the room sits a monstrous yet beautiful mahogany desk with a plush chair at its back.

You move to the desk first, skimming the documents scattered on top for something that has the trading company’s name on it. But all you see are invoices, shipping records, and maps of different trading routes marked with your father’s notes, and lightly shuffling through the papers comes up fruitless as well.

The first desk drawer you open contains a series of highly-organized ledgers, so you quickly move on to the second, which has the same. The third drawer reveals a reserve of desk and writing supplies, while the fourth, finally, contains a mess of paper.

You rummage through the clutter, still not finding anything that seems to be the contract Jimin is looking for, and are about to give up when a stack of letters buried at the back of the compartment has you freezing, the small, neat handwriting chilling you to the bone.

Pulling the stack out with shaking hands, you quickly realize that there are a few dozen, all postmarked no more than two months apart between each one. Collapsing backwards into the desk chair, you read frantically, quickly realizing just how wrong you were about Jungkook giving up on you:

My Dearest, it’s been a while since I’ve heard from you, but I pray your letters were simply lost in transit…

I’m incredibly pleased to let you know that I’ve received a promotion. The owner of the farm, Mr. Lee, has taken a liking to me and has shifted me to a more considerable role with additional pay. I’m saving every bit I can…

My Love, I miss you deeply. And while your silence pains me to no end, I hope it is a mere misunderstanding. If you do not wish to hear from me ever again, only say the word and I will stop writing to you and remove myself from your life entirely, albeit with a heavy heart…

I still have some ways to go, but my savings are increasing exponentially, and I am learning more than ever. Mr. Lee has been teaching me about the business side of things and helping me make connections. What a wonder to have a boss who fully supports your aspirations! He insists he will be able to help me in my endeavors, and call me naive, but I believe it to be true. Rest assured, love, that I am steadfastly working hard for you, for us, and for our future…

My Darling Y/N, my heart aches to not read your words and hear your thoughts. But since you have not yet rejected me outright, I can only assume that your silence is involuntary or that it comes with deep hesitation. Whatever the reason, please know that I love you, I miss you, and I am not giving up on us unless you tell me so…

And finally, the shortest letter dated almost year back:

Y/N,

I don’t have the words to describe my feelings so I will keep it brief: I did it. If this letter finds its way to you and you wish to find me, I eagerly await you at our home…

The location is scribbled in a tangle of text, his usually neat writing askew as if he was shaking when he wrote it, and the words land with the force of a thousand bricks in your chest—the weight of seven years apart, the agony of your separation, finally culminating in this revelation.

The door to the office bangs open, and you look up, heart already racing with the discovery of the letters, to see your father looming in the doorway, face painted with rage.

“What in the hell are you doing in my private office?!”

You’re on your feet in an instant, storming across the room and shaking the final letter in his face. “What is this?!”

He pales a fraction as he registers what you’re holding before stepping further into the room and slamming the door shut. “I should have burned them,” he sneers. “I did what I did to protect you.”

“From what?” You wave your arms wildly, anger and adrenaline winding their way through your limbs. “From happiness? From a man who has spent years working hard to be able to provide for me?”

“I have worked hard to provide for you! And I will not see my legacy be thrown aside for some silly crush!”

Steeling yourself, you pull in a steadying breath for courage. “Then you won’t.”

“And what does that mean?” your father scoffs, trying to look dismissive and intimidating, yet seeming smaller than you’ve ever seen him.

“You won’t see any of it. I’m leaving.”

“What?”

Time stops for a moment, your declaration holding the air in the room hostage as your father fully absorbs your words.

“You ungrateful idiot girl!” your father suddenly exclaims. “After everything I’ve done for you? Fine then! Go live with the dogs, with the filth and slime you apparently love so dearly. I have had it with your thanklessness and impertinence and will be relieved to have you from my sight.” He steps into your personal space, pointing a finger directly at your face so close that you can feel the heat of his ire radiating off of his hand. “But know this: the second you step out of these doors, you will never be welcomed back. Never.”

You waste only two seconds longer, locked in a stubborn stare-down with your father before you rip your gaze away and tear from the room with Jungkook’s letters still in hand. Rushing to your room, you gather his other letters from your desk and stuff them into a bag along with the modest sum of money you had accumulated in case you ever needed to run.

And then you’re a bird in flight, sweeping down the stairs and out the door with nothing but a simple, “Good day, Mr. Park,” as you pass an absolutely bewildered Jimin in the front hall.

The rain is cold and heavy as it soaks through your clothes and hair almost immediately, but you barely feel it—the freedom in your heart and the scribbled location in your bag more than enough to keep you warm as you charge towards home.

The house is beautiful.

Modest, compared to the mansion you grew up in, sure. But arguably more beautiful—with a compact two stories, white wood, and neatly painted green shutters. There’s a wrap-around porch overlooking the acres upon acres of farmland, and even through the rain falling in sheets and blurring your vision, you spy two rocking chairs sitting side-by-side under the awning.

It’s been a long two weeks of journeying to get to this spot, relying on the kindness of strangers to help you navigate to the location Jungkook had written down. Now, standing at the end of the dirt path leading up to what is presumably your new home, you think that you would do it all again in a heartbeat. The past two weeks, the past seven years, all worth it to experience the hope currently blooming in your chest like the sunflowers you spent so much time admiring in the past.

You’re trudging up the path, the dirt and mud smearing along your shoes, when a darkened figure steps out from the fields to your right, hand raised in greeting.

“Good afternoon, miss. Are you lost? I—” He grinds to a halt like he’s walked straight into a brick wall, eyes wide and lips parted as he absorbs the sight of you soaked and disheveled on his property.

“Y/N?” he says it like a prayer, like he believes you’re some kind of hallucination—a phantom come to haunt him through the haze of rainy memories.

You stare at each other through the downpour, and you find yourself studying him, observing the changes that have taken place in the time you’ve been apart. He’s taller and broader than you remember, shoulders stretching wide and drawing your gaze down towards biceps that protrude below his drenched shirt. The lines of his face have sharpened with age—losing some of the youthful roundness that had endeared him to you so quickly—but he’s still starry-eyed as ever, the charming young man from your memories undoubtedly gazing back at you.

“Jungkook,” you murmur, and the spell is suddenly broken. You surge towards each other, meeting in the middle with a flash of lightning. Your arms go around his shoulders, and Jungkook pulls you into him so desperately and with so much force that he lifts you right off your feet, your mouths coming together with a heated urgency.

He’s everything you’ve dreamed of, every desperate memory you’ve been clinging to come back to life. And with every touch, every pass of his hands over your body, you feel yourself rapidly coming back to life too—joy making its way into your lungs and through your bloodstream for the first time since you were twenty years old and kissing this man in your family’s stables.

“I’ve missed you,” he breathes against your lips when you finally part. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you, too.”

“You have no idea–”

“I do. Jungkook, I do.”

“You stopped writing—”

“My father,” you rush to say. “He intercepted the letters. I thought you stopped writing. Thought you gave up—”

“Oh, my love, never.” His hands rise to cradle your face. “I never stopped thinking of you. Never stopped dreaming of this.” He kisses you again, slowly this time, savoring every movement of his lips against yours.

You shudder against his chest, the thrill of your reunion rattling your nerves just as a cool wind blows through, and Jungkook pulls back with worry.

“You must be freezing,” he murmurs sweetly. “Come. Let’s get you warmed up inside.”

With an arm wrapped around your waist, as though he’s scared you’ll disappear if he doesn’t keep a hand on you, he guides you the rest of the way to the house, up the front porch steps, and through the front door.

“Welcome home,” Jungkook says.

You’re met first with the smell of pine and cinnamon and an impossibly comforting warmth. The first floor is comprised of a wide-open space, with a small kitchen and dining room to your left and a sitting room to your right that has tall windows and a fireplace that is currently roaring. You move around the room slowly, taking it all in, and when you notice the vase of bright sunflowers sitting in the middle of the kitchen table, you just about melt to the floor.

“I know it’s smaller than you’re used to,” he sheepishly mumbles from the doorway. “But we can expand in the future—”

“It’s perfect, Jungkook.” And it really is, every panel and floorboard evidence of how hard he’s worked, how fiercely your love has endured. “It’s absolutely perfect. I love every bit of it.”

He brightens at that, smile stretching wide. “I’m glad.”

“How did you find it?”

“Well, I bought the property after finally saving enough money. Mr. Lee helped me with the buying process.” He shrugs. “And then I built this.”

You freeze, absolutely stunned. “You what?”

“I built it,” he says simply. “I had some help, of course. But the design is all mine.”

“I…you…” It makes your thoughts spin—the idea that he did all of this. He built a house for you.

“Here, look.” He takes your hand and pulls you into the living room, gesturing at a set of empty shelves against the back wall. “For your books.”

You laugh incredulously, fully overwhelmed at this point. “I didn’t bring any with me.”

“Then we’ll start you a new collection,” he says softly, drawing you towards him.

You reach up to trace his jaw, his brow, his cheekbones—memorizing every line of this beautiful man who dared to make your dreams a reality. “I can’t believe this. Can’t believe you. The things you’ve done.”

“All for you, my love.”

Your heart thumps a steady rhythm in your throat, love and the relief of finally—finally—having him in front of you overpowering your senses until all that exists is you and him; the strain of your former life feels worlds away.

Hands find his chest in a slow migration downwards as the chill of the rain gives way to the heat of the fireplace, and it’s not long before his large hands are wrapping around your hips, a darkness in his irises that wasn’t there a second ago.

“There’s an upstairs, too, I’m assuming?” you whisper, fingers teasing a button on his shirt.

“There is.” He swallows, and you watch the bob of his Adam’s apple like a lure. “Would you like to see it?”

You lean in, skimming your mouth below his without fully joining your lips. “Please.”

Tangling your fingers in his, he practically runs upstairs with you trailing in his wake.

Finally, you think, as he pulls your clothes from your body, climbs over you on the bed, and presses into you with such tender deliberation that you think you’ll combust.

Finally, as you spend the rest of the night wrapped up together, endlessly whispering I love yous back and forth.

Finally, as you wake up in his arms the next day, his face the first thing you see.

Finally, as he pulls out a small box at breakfast, the dainty diamond ring easily the most precious piece of jewelry you’ve ever possessed.

Finally, as he takes you out on the farm and shows you the small field of sunflowers he planted just for you.

Finally, you think, as you sit in one of the rocking chairs on the porch and watch him work from afar. I’m home.

Years Later…

“Mama! Mama look!”

You glance up from your book to where Jungkook and Haneul are currently journeying in the yard. It’s a bright sunny day—the wide expanse of blue sky above unmarred by even a single cloud. Sunshine beams down onto your son’s smiling face where he sits on the back of one of the horses, a too-big cowboy hat on his head and his father at his side for support.

“You’re doing great, sweetheart!” you call. “Just be sure to listen to Papa!”

Jungkook flashes you a grin, the excitement radiating off of him in waves. He’s been talking about teaching Haneul to ride since the day he was born, so you know this means a great deal to him, especially seeing your son’s own energy and enthusiasm. Haneul has always liked the “horsies,” toddling happily around the stables ever since he could walk.

Then again, given who his parents are, that wasn’t much of a surprise.

Jungkook and Haneul finish their loop around the yard, and you hear your husband shower the boy with praise as he lifts him off of the horse’s back.

“Again, again!” Haneul cheers, bouncing in place and causing Jungkook to laugh.

“We will! Just let me check on your mother first.”

He moves comfortably, leisurely as he climbs the porch steps and comes to a rest in front of where you sit. Looming over you, he leans in until he can press a gentle kiss to your lips, reverent in his motions.

“How are you feeling?” he asks. His fingers brush lightly over your belly and its new curve.

“I’m alright,” you say, guiding his hand until his palm is resting flat. “This one is kicking up a storm though.”

As if on cue, you feel a tiny jolt—Jungkook giving a breathless chuckle as he feels the jab himself.

“Go easy on your mother,” he says in the direction of your stomach, rubbing a soft circle into your flesh. “No storms. Clear skies and sunshine.” Then his eyes are back on your face. “Speaking of, I have something for you.”

He reaches behind his back and produces a single sunflower, tucking it behind your ear before giving you one more kiss.

“I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you, too.” More than the day you met him. More than the day he left. And more than the day you finally made your way here.

“Now I should get back to Haneul before he starts yelling for me.”

You laugh out the brightest sound that’s ever come from your lungs. “Go.”

A warm breeze ripples through the trees, the sound of your son’s giggles and Jungkook’s cheerful exclamations finding their way back to where you sit.

What a beautiful day, you think, setting down your book and getting up to join your family in the golden sunshine.

a/n: thanks for reading! pls don't forget to like, reblog, and/or comment if you enjoyed!

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #jungkook imagines #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #bts angst #bts smut #bts fluff #bts fic #bts fanfic

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neteyamyawne · 5 months

Text

🫀— You Promised

༄ Pairing : Aged!up!Neteyam x Fem!pregnant!Reader

༄ Summary : You never thought about losing your mate, atleast not when you needed him the most in your vulnerable state.

༄ Warning : Angst! Lots and lots of angst, no comfort, crying, pregnancy, major death, depression, sadness, dying of a loved one and more sadness, maybe a smidge of fluff.

༄ Prompt : Holding their mate's (or child's) unconscious/dead body

༄ Word Count : 2.7k Proof read.

༄ Note : I love making you guys cry, idk why, I cry myself when I write this kind of stuff.

༄ Glossary : [Yawne] - Beloved, [Olo'eyktan] - Na'vi clans' leader, [Iknimaya] - Na've rite of passage, [tsahik] - Na'vi clans' spiritual leader, [Uthuru] - to seek refuge, [Paskalin] - sweet berry, [Skxwang] - moron.

◦ Angstmas || Masterlist

It was like any other normal day only if you were in your home and not in another strange clan that you've never known except for stories and political talks.

You lay on the soft woven mat, made by your mate just for you, a hand on your swollen stomach as the life growing inside moves at its own pace while you rest from the tiredness that comes with.

»»————-　𑁍　————-««

You and Neteyam mated right after he passed his Iknimaya, being the first in line to be the olo’eyktan and you to be his tsahik but it was all came crashing down when your father-in-law decided it was better to flee for the good of the clan and for the family as well.

It was the second month of your pregnancy when you had to leave your home forever, the strength of your mates arms held you up as you cried in his chest, hands shaking like a leaf as you watched Jake renounce his position as the Olo'eyktan to Terasem.

The tears in everyone's eyes, Neytiri’s sobs, Neteyam could only stroke the side of your head, pressing a kiss to your temple as he lead you to his Ikran “It'll be okay, Yawne, believe me, we'll be alright, I'll take care of you and our little one” he whispered comfortingly in your ear when you both mounted his Ikran and he placed you in front of him, your face towards him as he draped and covered you with his own shawl, he held you against his chest tightly before he took off with his family.

He had one hand on Seze’s reigns, controlling her moves through the air and the other on your back, under the shawl that was draped on your body, your face buried in his neck, your arms wrapped around his waist, so you could rest comfortably on the rough journey, he caressed patterns on your back as everyone flew more and more away from the forest until it was just the expanse of the water in front of them.

Neytiri kept glancing at her eldest son, pride blooming in her chest as she saw how much of gentleman her son is, the scene could only remind her of the time with Jake during the war, when they aligned all the clans, with a small smile she looked away, giving the couple some privacy as she moved closer to Jake's Ikran, bob, while running her hand through Tuk’s braids.

»»————-　𑁍　————-««

It took a week or more to reach the metkayina clan, Awa’atlu, they accepted your Uthuru, with much criticism and nagging, but they did, it wasn't the same since then, there was always a deep feeling in the back of your mind, reminding you, again and again that something is wrong or would go wrong.

Even now, 4 months later, as you rested in the mauri with Neytiri on the other side making dinner while the others were out for their lessons, as Neytiri didn't willingly wanted to take the lessons and would rather look after you because it wasn't recommended for you to start your swimming lessons yet, she was always there for you, no matter what.

Even then, it's only been a month or two since Quaritch started his search spree across all the water Na'vi clans for Jake, that was the one thing everyone was alert for after Tonowari gave us the news, you didn't want to keep that in mind, not in your condition, not when it added to your ever growing worry.

Neteyam came back later, seemingly happy to see you resting on the mat he made, and because he loved the beautiful curve on your belly, the sign that his little baby grew safe and sound, he also knew that you didn't like the ocean as much as the trees back home but it was doable, plus he would rather have his baby in a safe environment than a hostile one, which was the only reason he loved this place, for the sake of his family's safety was all he cared about.

On a good day, you'd join the group, watching them learn in the depths while you sat in the shallow waters laughing at their failed attempts until your stomach starts to hurt from laughing while clutching your bump or learning new things with them, even successfully befriending an Ilu and riding it safely that you could have options to move around Awa'atlu.

But on days like these, when your exhaustion hits a little too hard, he couldn't help but lay down behind your back and just wrap his arms around you and pull you into his warm hug.

You always knew it was him, by the way he'd kiss your neck gently, one large hand on your belly as he strokes it softly, his head nuzzled in the Crook of your neck “You know you don't have to pretend you're asleep when I'm right beside you, Paskalin” he whispered, hot breath lingering on the curve of it.

You chuckled at the tickling sensation, giving in after he catches you in your pretend sleep, once again for the upteenth time, turning around to face him while he strokes your cheek with his hand as the other caresses your belly, peppering your face with kisses as you giggled “Did you eat anything, Honey?” He asked in a whisper, picking up after his father to call you sweet human nicknames that he loved. Like father, like son.

He was disappointed when you shook your head “how many times have I told you to eat something every two hours? It's not good for the baby, yawne!” He whisper-yelled at you but the answer he got from you was just a chuckle “I wasn't hungry, Ma teyam, and i wasn't feeling well either, Now let it-” he just shook his head in disappointment “tsk tsk tsk, you should have told me or sa’nu, she would have-”

The sentence was left unspoken when the loud commotion and yelling was heard outside, the locals were screaming at something or someone and loud cries were heard, both you and Neteyam got up with Neytiri and made your way to the rage going on inside the supply tent.

Neteyam kept his arm around your waist as you entered the tent, shielding you from the hands that reached out to hit or hold you or him. He was surprised at the sudden uprise until he understood what was happening when he took in the gossip and looks he was getting and looked at his father who was trying to explain.

Ronal’s Tulkun, Roa, was found dead or rather murdered by the human, as well as her babe.

»»————-　𑁍　————-««

When Jake apologized and made his preposition on how to save the other Tulkuns from further harm, Neteyam saw Lo'ak running away from the crowd towards the diving edge, calling for his Ilu, immediately knowing what he was upto, he went behind him with you in tow after him.

“No way you're rolling out of here, baby brother” Neteyam said sternly as he walked in on Lo'ak strapping the saddle on the Ilu, Lo'ak halted, rolling his eyes at his brother in annoyance.

“I have to warn payakan about the pingers!” He snapped back but lowered his voice when he saw you behind Neteyam.

“No! you've gotta keep your skxwang ass here, you understand me?!” Neteyam said with a hint of annoyance lacing his, he didn't want another one of his brother's stupid mistakes to be blamed on him, not right now, not when he himself was about to be a father.

“Neteyam…Calm down” you whispered lightly, holding his arm back, you didn't want him to blow off on Lo'ak again, it could be done quietly and patiently.

Lo'ak on the other hand wanted to try and reason with him to let him go “he's an outcast, there's nobody to warn him but me”

Neteyam huffed, placing a hand on Lo'ak’s head, holding his brother in place “bro… why do you always have to make things so hard?”

Lo'ak hissed, flicking his brother's hand off his head in anger and defiance as his tone shifted to an aggressive one “No. You mean why can't I be the perfect son like you! The perfect little soldier! Who does everything right, has the perfect life and a perfect little mate and family! Well I'm not you! Okay?!” Neteyam sized him up and Lo'ak took a step back looking up at his brother and lowered his voice again “I'm not you..He's my brother! I'm going”

You were taken aback at that, you grabbed his arm making him face you as anger simmered in your eyes at what he just said “LO'AK!! What are you talking about?! He's your brother! Stop this right now! Is this how you talk to your brother?!”

Lo'ak skipped a look between you and Neteyam nervously as he took another step back but Neteyam stopped him by grabbing his arm tightly and forcing him to look “He's not your brother, skxwang! I am! And don't you dare talk like that again”

But Lo'ak was having none of it as he twisted his arm out of his grasp just when Tsireya, Ao'nung and Rotxo arrived giving Lo'ak a good distraction to dive into the water for his Ilu, Neteyam growled loudly before patting on Ao'nung’s chest “we have go behind him, he's going to payakan” he said urgently.

But something in your heart panged when he said that, a weird unease spreading to your chest again and you called out to him “teyam…please, don't go” you didn't know if it was stupid or not but you wanted to believe it “please, it doesn't feel right”

He looked back at you after he called his Ilu and came up to you quickly, cupping your cheek in his palm, stroking his thumb over your cheek, his other hand caressing your swollen belly, as he looked into your eyes intently, connecting your foreheads together and kissing your nose “Shh… I'll be right back, I promise, don't worry, I just have to put this Skxwang back in his place again” he whispered lovingly with a smirk, kissing your forehead one last time and giving your hand a tight squeeze before diving into the water with the others and following Lo'ak.

»»————-　𑁍　————-««

Your heart was pacing a mile per second, the feeling of dread getting worse when it was notified by Lo'ak that Payakan was marked by the humans and Neteyam was their with them, Almost half of the clan, including Ronal and Tonowari were gone to save them, but all you could think of was Neteyam.

Hours passed and the sun began to set, spreading an eerie red and orange hue throughout the sky, no news of anyone or anything, only the sight of the injured or fallen warriors broughton back to Awa'atlu filled your mind with nightmares you only prayed stayed in your dreams.

You placed a hand on your stomach, the feeling of your baby moving against your palm was enough to give you some courage to call your Ilu and riding over to the scene yourself following behind another group of Warriors who were sent back to help others.

»»————-　𑁍　————-««

The sight was a horror to take in as you sat on your ilu looking at the havoc the place was in, the ship sinking, fire ablaze on the water from the oil spill, the sky dusted in a amber color and dark smoke, as if matching the hell beneath on the water but your heart dropped when you saw the rock Island… with others gathered together around something.

Urging your ilu over to it, you climbed off of the creature before you saw a body lying on the rock and dread filled the pit of your stomach, the feet looked eerily familiar but you refused to think about it, it couldn't be… a cold shiver running down your spine, goosebumps spreading over your body as your breath hitched, before you could confirm your suspicions spider pulled you back, shaking his head, but that's all it took for your worst fear to come true, gears in your head turning as a scream erupted from your throat which ultimately caught everyone's attention in horror when they saw you, when you realized what you were looking at.

“NETEYAM!!!!! NO NO, GREAT MOTHER, PLEASE” you ran towards him but Neytiri stopped you, catching your body in her arms as your cries rang out for everyone to hear, thrashing in her arms as Jake came up to you “Shh look at me, look at me…” he whispered holding you back and not letting you see his body yet, placing his hands on your cheeks and forcing you to look at him as tears already ran down your cheeks.

“NO NO NO, NETEYAM, LET ME GO PLEASE!! please….” You sobbed as they held you back, Neytiri couldn't hold back either as she hugged you, your loss was far greater than any others, your knees gave out from the shock as they caught you once again before they let you go, knowing there was no denying it “It's going to okay, it's going be okay” Neytiri whispered desperately to calm you but nothing could soothe you in this moment.

Your heart almost stopped beating in your chest as you saw his lifeless body, crawling over to his side, with trembling hands as you touched his chest that was now covered in his blood, cold lifeless eyes staring up at the sky, as sobs wrecked your body, crying over your mate, who promised you he'd come back, who promised to spend the eternity together, now gone, forever.

Kneeling beside him as your wails of despair shook the heart of great mother herself, shaking your head in disbelief, as you held his limp hand in yours, only if he listened to you, only if he stayed back!

Your head laid on his chest, like the thousands of times before where he caressed your hair, as he hummed a sweet melody for you so you could sleep peacefully in his arms, listening to his heartbeat as you fell asleep, was cold, quiet and unmoving, as if the once alive, beating heart, never existed, you sobbed on his chest, blood coating the side of your face but you didn't care, holding his hand as if he would wake up and smile saying this was all just a dream and he was there with you, like he said.

Lo'ak placed a hand on your shoulder to comfort you but it only fueled your anger towards himas you snarled at him viciously and everyone was taken aback “DO NOT TOUCH ME, STAY AWAY! ONLY IF YOU EVER DID AS YOU WERE TOLD TO THIS WOULDN'T HAVE HAPPENED, LO'AK!”

Your anger was justified and no one dared to stop you or invented in between, Your screams hit him like bullets as he didn't say a word, stepping back as you turned back to look at Neteyam's face, still unable to register the fact that he's gone and would never come back to you or your child ever again and your weren't ready to face it just yet.

“Teyam, please… you promised, right? you promised you'd come back to us, please, you can't do this to me, teyam… I can't do this without you, you promised to be there with me, to hold our baby, to hold my hand, you can't do this to me please, we- we…” you couldn't even form words anymore as more tears streamed down your cheeks, breaking down to the point of no return as your cries rang through everyone's ears.

They all couldn't handle to see your desperate attempts and cries to get him back, in hopes to get you back, begging any greater force would listen to give him back, their hearts breaking even more as they saw you placing his hand on your stomach one last time as you broke down completely, your head placed on his chest, watching the horrific sight of a mate mourning over her other half as their symbol of love grew inside her.

You closed your eyes and held him close one last time, holding his hand one last time, laying your head on his chest one last time, his hand on your stomach to feel his child for one last time as he still watched the darkening sky unmoving “you promised…”

Ho Ho Ho : @cryinginthemoonpool, @luvv4j4ybe11, @xylianasblog, @plooto, @itchaboi-itchyboy, @pandoraslxna, @taylormarieee, @thewiltedpeony, @neteyamswillow, @danniackerman, @hotdsworld, @zafrinaxyz, @xstarsdiary, @moondaisye, @puddle-nerd, @eywxveng, @minnory, @neteyamssyulang, @tavsianus, @ele-sme.

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sugarcoated-lame · 9 months

Text

Lost and Found | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Single Dad!Bradley x Reader

Part One of my Single dad!Bradley miniseries | part two | library blog

*all my works are 18+, minors DNI

Summary: When Bradley’s four-year old daughter goes missing during a trip to the mall, he doesn’t expect to find himself so taken with the pretty stranger who helps her find her way back to him.

WC: 3.6K

Warnings: I suck at titling my stories and summaries :), a bit of angst, mentions of pregnancy and abandonment, (briefly) missing child, mentions of anxiety/panic attack, but then so much fluff, Bradley’s kid being too cute for her own good, implied age gap, I feel like dilf Bradley needs his own warning

a/n: I wrote this months ago and I’m a bit nervous to share, but the response to the teaser was so amazing (thank you <3) and dilf Bradley lives in my head rent-free, so I’m excited about this one! Also the picture on the right just screams dad Bradley to me! Thank you for reading, as always I’d love to hear your feedback, so please leave a comment/reblog <3

• • •

Bradley directs his gaze away from the rack of little girls’ clothes he’d been perusing, injecting enthusiasm into his voice as he holds up a hanger with a small, baby pink t-shirt dress hanging on it. “Hey, Bug. What do you think of this–?”

He cuts himself off before the end of his question when he realizes that he’s talking to no one. “Where did she…?”

He trails off, brows furrowed. Still holding up the child-sized dress that looks especially tiny next to his large frame, Bradley spins around, perplexed. She was just here.

- - -

Bradley’s daughter, Caroline, who’d just recently turned four— and was growing up way too fast for his liking— was set to begin preschool next week. His little girl was growing right before his eyes and she needed a new wardrobe to accommodate that. So, Bradley had taken her to the mall to buy some new clothes for school. He didn’t know the first thing about little girls’ fashion, but he was sure he could manage.

He’d spent the last hour searching through clothing rack after clothing rack in the girl’s section of a department store, Caroline at his side, lips in a pout and shaking her little head ‘no’ at all of his choices, sandy brown curls bobbing along with her every movement. Bradley could tell the four-year old was getting bored, and he was becoming frustrated.

The buzzing of his phone with a text from Maverick granted him a brief reprieve from his predicament.

“One second, honey.” Bradley sighed, affectionately patting the top of his daughter’s head before looking toward his phone to answer some question Mav had about work.

He was happy for a moment’s distraction from getting ready to tear his hair out wondering if he was going to have to send his daughter to her first day of preschool wearing a trash bag because he didn’t know what the hell kind of clothes he’s supposed to buy for a picky four-year old girl.

Bradley had been a single parent for most of his daughter’s life. He and Caroline’s mother, Amber, had only been seeing each other for the better half of a year when they found out the news that they were expecting. And even then, their relationship was never really official.

The two met not long after the Uranium Mission, while Bradley was still on North Island taking some time to relax and awaiting another assignment. He’d gone to the little diner Amber was waitressing at, he thought she was cute and they’d hit it off straight away. Bradley got her number and the rest was history.

The Navy kept Bradley busy. He was always traveling for some assignment or deployments – sometimes gone for months at a time, so they only saw each other on the rare occasions he was in town.

They’d hang out and hook up, maybe go on a date here and there, a sort of friends-with-benefits situation. There was definitely a sense of care between Bradley and Amber, but the lack of time they were able to spend together meant it never went beyond that.

When they learned that Amber was pregnant, they both knew it wouldn’t be easy. But they thought that, together, they could make it work.

A few months after Caroline was born though, Amber admitted that she couldn’t handle things.

Bradley took to being a father so easily. From the moment their baby was born and she looked up at him with those big, honey brown eyes that matched his own, he knew that he’d do absolutely anything for her. Caroline instantly became his world.

Amber, on the other hand, really struggled. She loved her baby of course, but deep down she wasn’t sure she was ready to be a mother. If she’d ever be.

She figured it was better if she’d gone while Caroline was still young enough that she wouldn’t remember her, and knew that their daughter would be just fine in Bradley’s loving hands. And just like that, she left the both of them.

Bradley resented Amber for a while, but in time he came to understand. Not everyone was meant to be a parent. Besides that, he knew that there was no time for resentment.

He was on his own with a four-month old baby and he needed to put all of his energy into taking care of her. So, he requested a more permanent position at Top Gun so that he could stay in one place to raise his daughter, and it’s been just the two of them ever since.

- - -

Bradley couldn’t have been turned around for more than thirty seconds before he pocketed his phone and reached back out to grab the little pink dress off the rack to show his daughter. But, when he turned back, Caroline was nowhere to be seen.

Ok, don’t panic, Bradley tells himself. She can’t have gone far.

“Caroline?” He calls out calmly, eyes darting around the surrounding area as he spins to look in every direction.

When he doesn’t receive a response, Bradley puts down the dress he was holding and begins to walk among the sea of clothing racks, still calling out his daughter’s name.

He searches the entire girl’s section of the store without success and decides to broaden his search, his heart beginning to speed up in his chest. Ok, he’s starting to panic.

Bradley picks up his pace, maneuvering from one section of the store to another, asking the other customers and few employees that mill about if they’ve seen his daughter.

He knows he must look crazed, practically sprinting, his sneakers squeaking as he moves across the shiny floors as his repeated calls of Caroline’s name become increasingly more frantic — panting and on the verge of tears by the time he’s finished searching the entirety of the large department store to no avail.

Bradley stands frozen in the middle of the store, tears pricking his eyes, chest rising and falling rapidly on the brink of hyperventilating. He’s at a loss for what to do. His mind racing through all of the worst scenarios. What if she’s hurt? What if someone took her?

It’s his job to protect his little girl and make sure that she’s always safe, and he failed her. He’s all that Caroline has, and he feels like a failure of a father.

- - -

You’re walking through the busy mall with a couple of bags in hand, all finished with your shopping and ready to head home when you see her.

A little girl — tiny really, she can’t be older than five — with curls a golden shade bordering between both blonde and brown, standing by the bottom of the escalator, alone.

Playing with her little fingers as she looks around the crowd aimlessly with unshed tears in her big, brown eyes. The scared look on her adorable little face breaks your heart, and you know you can’t leave without making sure she’s okay.

You approach her slowly, as if she were a frightened animal that might bolt at any moment, speaking softly so as not to scare her any further. “Hey, honey. Are you alright?”

The look she gives you is a shy one, eyes widening before she looks down at her light-up sneakers and shakes her head.

You can tell the little girl is apprehensive about talking to a stranger — smart.

Kneeling down to be at her eye-level before speaking again, and setting your shopping bags down at your sides, you tell her your name and ask for hers.

“I’m Caroline.” Her voice is sweet and shy, a near-whisper as she chances a glance up at you, eyes still shining with tears when she lifts her head.

“Are you here alone, Caroline? Are you with your mommy and daddy?” You ask her gently.

She shakes her head again, curls swaying along with the motion. “I was with my daddy, but I lost him.”

The adorable pout on her lips might’ve made you smile, if it weren’t for the tears that follow, finally spilling from her eyes and trailing down onto her rosy cheeks.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I can help you find him!” You soothe as your thumb moves to brush her tears away. “Where did you last see him?”

Caroline sniffles and thinks for a moment before speaking, a little bit louder this time.

“We were buying me clothes for preschool in one of the big stores, and my daddy had to answer the phone so I was looking all by myself. And then I got lost and I couldn’t find him.”

You continue to wipe at Caroline’s tears as she talks in that rambling sort of way that all little kids do.

“Preschool, wow. That sounds fun!” You try to take her mind off of the scary situation for a second and she nods excitedly at that, still sniffling. “What’s your daddy’s name?”

Her tears finally begin to slow as she talks about her dad.

“His name’s Bradley, but everybody calls him Rooster! He flies planes!” Caroline explains excitedly.

You can’t help but chuckle as you tell her that her dad has a funny nickname, and that his job sounds fun. You’re happy to see Caroline give you a small smile back.

“Do you remember what store you and your daddy were shopping in?”

She has to think for a long moment, the most adorable, pensive pout you’ve ever seen on her face as she tries to remember.

She doesn’t know the name of the store, but she is able to describe it for you, and you’re able to make a distinction from there.

Standing back to your full height, you readjust your bags on one arm and extend your free hand out towards Caroline, offering her a reassuring smile.

“I know exactly where that is! Ready to go find him?” Caroline grins as she takes your hand with an excited nod, tears no longer visible in her big brown eyes.

The two of you walk on in search of her dad — Bradley, and Caroline talks your ear off the whole way. She is absolutely adorable, telling you more about herself and asking you questions about yourself too, and you find yourself falling more in love with her sweet disposition by the minute.

Within five minutes, you make it to the store that Caroline had been in last, hopeful to reunite her with her father who you figure must be worried sick.

- - -

Bradley isn’t quite sure how long he’s been scouring the massive department store looking for his four-year old daughter— though it feels like forever, time seeming to move in slow motion— on the brink of a panic attack and just about ready to phone the police when he hears a familiar high-pitched shriek of, “DADDY!”

He turns around at lightning speed — and practically gives himself whiplash — to see Caroline approaching him, holding a woman’s hand.

When she lets go and bounds right towards him, Bradley lets out a massive sigh of relief. Kneeling down to catch his little girl in his arms, he feels like he might cry all over again, overcome with a flurry of emotions now that his daughter is safe in his embrace once again.

“Caroline, baby, you scared me half to death!” Bradley can’t keep the emotion out of his voice as he lifts his daughter into his arms and stands back up to his full height, lying his head atop of hers and squeezing her tight. “You can’t just wander off like that, you could’ve gotten hurt.”

He tries his best not to sound angry — she is only four after all, and he’s just thankful that she’s okay. Caroline’s arms wrap around his neck as he holds her tight, her face burrowing into the crook of Bradley’s neck.

“Daddy, I’m fine!” She insists. “And I made a new friend!”

It’s only then that Bradley looks up at the woman who had reunited him with his little girl, standing a few feet away and watching them with a sweet smile.

Oh. It’s only then that he realizes, you are beautiful.

Bradley’s honestly convinced you might be an angel. Pretty, bright eyes and a glowing sweet smile that nearly takes his breath away. And, you’d been kind enough to help his daughter safely find her way back to him.

Bradley just stares for a moment, lips parted and still holding Caroline in his arms, and he hopes that you’ll chalk it up to the overwhelming nature of the situation.

“Uh– thank you so much for bringing Caroline back to me. I don’t know how I could ever repay you.” He rushes out, hand cradling the back of his baby’s hair. “I-I’m…” Fuck, why is he so nervous all of a sudden?

“…Bradley,” You finish for him. “Or, Rooster. Right?”

His brows furrow, a pensive look on his very handsome face, a look that you realize matches the one you had seen on his daughter’s face earlier. Cute.

“How did you-” He begins to question how you know his name — and call-sign — but is promptly cut off by his four-year old practically screaming in his ear.

“I told her, Daddy!” Caroline exclaims proudly.

For a man called ‘Rooster’, you sure were not expecting Caroline’s dad to be this good looking. But, fuck, is he hot.

Though he’s clearly got a few years on you, Bradley’s all tall and sun-kissed, tan skin. Broad shoulders and big, muscular arms on display in his fitted black t-shirt while he holds up his little girl, sandy curls a shade or two darker than hers. Whiskey-colored eyes that match his daughter’s, that you can only describe as puppy dog eyes.

His deep, husky voice that sends tingles down your spine and beautifully shaped pink lips framed by a mustache that you’re surprised you find so attractive.

“Well, I’m glad I could be of help.” You hope that he can’t see the flush you can feel blooming on your cheeks as you speak. “And, Caroline was great company!”

You wink at the little girl who giggles against his shoulder, and when Bradley smiles at you graciously, you can’t help but smile back. God, his smile is pretty.

Up in his arms, Caroline gets distracted playing with her dad's curls. There are a few moments of silence between you, though not uncomfortable, before Bradley speaks up again.

“Well, thank you again. I–uh,” Bradley clears his throat.

“I guess we should let you go. We’ve gotta find some clothes for this little troublemaker, otherwise she’ll have to go to school wearing a garbage bag.” Bradley jokes in a playful tone, bouncing his daughter around in his arms as she giggles, and you can’t help but laugh too at the infectious sound.

“Daddy, wait!” Caroline shouts out before you can answer him.

“What is it, little bug?” Bradley murmurs as he strokes a hand lovingly over her curls. Caroline turns in his hold, directing her next question toward you.

“Can you come with us?” Oh, her puppy dog eyes are even cuter than Bradley’s, and you imagine he probably has a hard time ever saying no to her. “Daddy has no idea what he’s doing when it comes to girl clothes.”

You can’t contain the giggle that escapes your lips as Caroline dramatically rolls her eyes and Bradley lets out an offended huff, the two of them staring at each other with matching, petulant pouts. Adorable.

“That is not true!” Bradley practically shrieks at his daughter and it only makes you laugh more.

“And, honey, she probably doesn’t want–” Bradley begins to protest before you interject.

“I’d love to.” You chime in with a coy grin and Bradley looks back at you, bewildered.

Sure, you figure he probably has a beautiful wife waiting for him at home, but what’s the harm in spending just a little more time with a handsome pilot and his adorable daughter? So far, you’re having a lot of fun.

Bradley’s brows furrow skeptically. “Are you…sure?”

You purse your lips, staring up toward the ceiling for a moment as if you really need to think about it before you grin and offer him a one-shouldered shrug. “Yeah, I’ve got nowhere to be.”

You hope you don’t seem too eager, but the matching smiles you receive from both Bradley and Caroline tell you they don’t mind.

Bradley’s honestly a bit shocked that you— a pretty, young, complete stranger, want to stick around to hang out with him and his kid, but he isn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

So, once you assure him again that you’re happy to stay, he sets Caroline back on her feet and offers — more like insists — that he holds your shopping bags, and the three of you set off to peruse the oh-so daunting girl’s clothing section of the store once again.

Bradley watches in awe as Caroline grabs your hand, tugging you along as you help her pick out some articles of clothing.

The two of you chatter the whole time, bringing him into the conversations too, holding up articles of clothing and asking what he thinks, and Bradley is delighted to see how good you are with his daughter.

“This would look pretty on you!” Caroline holds out a little girl’s purple sweater dress in your direction. “Wouldn’t it, Daddy?”

You’re biting back a grin as Bradley looks to you and then back to his daughter and chuckles.

“I don’t think it comes in her size, Bug.” Bradley’s gaze returns to you, mirth in his eyes when he continues, “But yeah, it would look very pretty.”

You know he can see the obvious flush to your cheeks this time as his lips pull up into a smirk.

Shaking your head, you look back down to Caroline with a grin. “I think it’d look even prettier on your dad.” That pulls a giggle out of both of them.

Things go on like that as the three of you continue to shop, Bradley admiring how sweet and funny you are, how patient you are with his daughter.

The two of you discreetly sharing amused looks at some of the obscure things Caroline says that could only come out of a little kid’s mouth, banter coming easily between the three of you.

After a short while, Caroline has an array of new outfits for school— and a new stuffed animal after some begging and very convincing puppy dog eyes from his four-year old while you stood by and tried not to giggle, and Bradley knows that he wants to get to know you more.

He hasn’t done much in the way of dating since becoming a single father. Aside from the simple lack of time, Bradley’s always been afraid that most women won’t want to stick around when they find out he has a kid.

That they might not get along with his daughter or worse, be upset when they realize that Caroline will always be his number one priority.

Too scared to let his daughter get attached to someone only for them to leave, Caroline is his world and he’s been content with that.

But now, after seeing the way you are with his little girl — and in such a short time, he can’t help but think that he already likes you being a part of it.

With the clothing shopping done, the sun is setting by the time you're all ready leave the mall. Bradley and Caroline walk you out to your car, and both are reluctant to say goodbye to you just yet. You can't say you’re too happy to part with them either.

As he helps you put your bags in the trunk of your car, Bradley knows he needs to take his shot now — or as Hangman likes to tell him, he needs to get off his perch.

“Hey, could I possibly get your number?” Bradley asks, trying to sound as confident as his voice can possibly muster. “I’d love to see you again.”

Caroline pipes up from next to you, jumping up and down while she still holds your hand. “Me too!”

Is he asking you out? The breathless laugh you let out is one of shock, and you’re sure the look on your face matches as you glance between the adorable father-daughter duo.

You’re also sure that you’re blushing again.

For a moment, you can only stand frozen, lips parted, and when you realize you’ve yet to answer his question, you promptly close your mouth and attempt to school your features, quickly nodding your head.

“Yeah, I’d like that.” You tell him shyly, and Bradley can’t help but smirk at the color that’s begun to paint your cheeks.

He hands over his phone and tries not to smile too hard as you type in your number, glancing up at him and biting back your own grin while you send yourself a text so that you’d have his too.

You kneel down to squeeze Caroline into a hug, the little girl happily wrapping her arms around your neck. You leave her with a promise that you’ll see them again soon, though the way you look up at her father over her shoulder lets Bradley know that that promise is directed at the both of them.

When you stand, Bradley gazes at you with a thoughtful smile before bringing you into a hug too.

“Have a good night, sweetheart.” The deep rumble of his voice so close to your ear, as well as the heat of his touch, leave your body feeling warm all over. That warmth never fading even as you watch Bradley and Caroline cross the parking lot, hand-in-hand, to get to their car.

Yeah, you definitely wouldn’t mind seeing him again soon.

- - -

Thank you for reading! Leave a comment/reblog if you enjoyed, feedback is always appreciated! x

Part 2 will be up next Wednesday! <3

UPDATE: you can read part two here ! ❤️

tag list: @wkndwlff @sebsxphia @chaoticassidy @dempy @ohgodnotagainn @shanimallina87 @mavrellover91 @memoriesat30 @that-bitch-bri @classyunknownlover @hisredheadedgoddess28 @foreverrandomwritings @lt-spork @princess76179 @gigisimsonmars @kidd3ath @averyhotchner @sammyrenae68 @tv-fanatic18 @one-sweet-gubler @simonscumsock

also tagging some people who reblogged/replied to the sneak peek : @fanficfandomlove @hangmanssunnies @milestomaverick @maverick-wingman @teacupsandtopgun @katiemcrae @colourfulsuitwonderland @becks-things @bradshawsbaddie @bradshawsbitch @valhallaas @roger-that-cap @woodkiller

. . .

#bradley bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x y/n #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw fluff #top gun fic #miles teller #dad bradley #single dad bradley #my writing

957 notes · View notes

skzdarlings · 5 months

Text

final part: bodyguard!felix x reader

masterlist.

PART I ; PART II ; PART III ; PART IV ; PART V ; PART VI ; PART VII ; PART VIII ; PART IX ; FINAL PART.

( READ ON AO3. )

Your father hires an inconspicuous bodyguard to accompany you at school and supervise you at home. What seems like an innocuous change in routine eventually spirals into a forbidden romance that grows more passionate over the years.

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: smut. violence. parental abuse. situations of intense peril overall. forced proximity. enemies2lovers. angst with eventual happy ending. (chapter word count; 19k words)

warning for this chapter: the usual story dynamics plus explicit violence, intense peril, threat and injury to reader, graphic depictions of death, explicit sexual content.

Your father will be here soon. He kept his distance during the rescue operation but will reconvene with his team before the journey home.

You and Felix wake long before his anticipated arrival, when dawn is only just peeking into the hotel room.

You lay in bed, your head on his bare chest and his arms around you. You discuss the potential confrontation ahead. Last time you were taken, your father was less than sympathetic to your plight. Even though this was more his fault than yours, you are certain you will take the blame. He cannot take responsibility for a misstep. If he is fallible, he is weak, and that puts his whole existence in jeopardy. It must always be someone else’s fault.

Therefore it is likely he will punish you. Therefore it is likely he will ask Felix to do it.

“Felix,” you say when he does not look at you. He is staring out the window with a look of pure frustration.

“I know,” he says. “You want me to do it. Last time I…”

“Yes.”

There is no need to discuss last time. You both know he fumbled that exchange. Felix is meant to be the personification of resolute strength and obedience, the perfect soldier. His moment of weakness snared your father’s attention, as weakness always does. Your quick response remedied the situation well enough, but you will not be so lucky next time. The only thing worse than a moment of weakness is the persistence of it. He cannot hesitate again.

“If,” you say slowly, “we want to find a way out… then now, more than ever, we cannot give him any reasons to be suspicious of us.”

“I know,” he says, but his jaw is still clenched and his gaze is faraway.

“Felix.” You touch his jaw, minding the darkening bruise, and turn his face to yours. His expression softens when he meets your gaze. “Thank you,” you say. “I love you. I trust you. It will be okay.”

He cups your cheek and lifts your face. His looks at you like he is studying every small detail. Even though he must know your face perfectly – seeing it when he wakes, before he goes to sleep, every day for so much of his life – he looks at you like he is seeing you for the first time all over again.

You laugh when he flicks your bottom lip, the little pout he has long since called his weakness.

“You could convince the sky it wasn’t blue,” he says, and kisses you tenderly. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

Maybe it is the novelty of hearing that out loud, or maybe you will just be crazy about him forever, but you feel flustered. You laugh and squirm, your skin hot. It makes him laugh, the menace kissing down your throat just to make you wriggle more.

“Don’t let my daddy catch you then,” you tease, breathlessly. “He wouldn’t like that very much.”

The returned chuckle makes you shiver. You run your fingers through his hair but he grabs your wrist and pins it down. Your breath catches when he sucks a bruising kiss on your throat. He is usually so careful about leaving marks, but today he dips his head to the soft skin of your breast and bites a mean little mark into the tender skin, making you gasp and buck beneath his hold.

“No, he wouldn’t, would he?” Felix says, his deep voice dropping even lower. “What would everyone say, hmm? Your daddy, your guards… all those rich boys at those fancy parties who think they have a chance with you…”

“Everyone thinks I’m a frigid bitch,” you reply, joining his game, smiling knowingly. “And I am, aren’t I? Nothing but trouble.”

“Nothing but trouble,” he says with a grin. He flicks the covers off, then his hands are on your hips and he flips you as smoothly. You yelp when he drags you halfway down the bed, arranging you as he kneels behind you. “You can’t fool me, sweetheart,” he says. One hand curls around your throat and the other snakes down your backside. “Frigid? Mm. I don’t think so. I actually think you are very, very soft… and warm…”

His fingers slip inside you easily, wet from your previous lovemaking and wetter still from his voice. Every little breath and tortured groan has you twitching and gasping.

“Felix,” you say.

It is the right thing to say. You are clawing at the bedsheets moments later, hiccupping on each watery breath as he holds your hips and fucks you right down into the mattress. You press against it like you could disappear there, fucked into freedom, never to return to this dire world again.

You sink into the bed and float in your mind, sighing when he wraps his arms around you and covers you with his body. He is hot and whole and so alive, and everything seems possible while you are joined together. You have each other, completely and irrevocably. That is all you need to survive.

You finish not a moment too soon. You are nestled in his arms, kissing and kissing and kissing, flushed and satisfied and content, when reality comes knocking. Felix throws on some pants while you scurry into the bathroom and close the door.

Felix steps into the hall. Between the bathroom door and the hotel room door, you only hear muffled voices. Then a few clicks, then another knock, then you jump. You are wearing a blanket and it slips with your surprise. You adjust it frantically, but Felix says, “It’s just me.”

You crack open the door to Felix in a t-shirt and his combat pants. You recognize the tired lines on his face, cracks in the mask he is struggling to don. His reassuring smile is not convincing.

“Here,” he says, handing you some clothes. “Your father is here. He wants to see you at breakfast.”

“Of course he does,” you say, just for something to say, letting your frustration seep into your tone.

The bathroom tiles are cold under your feet. A sharp snap of sensation and a reminder of reality. Felix makes the world feel small in comparison to him, but the world is still there, ever turning with its usual machinations and politics and powers. You are still suspended helplessly in the centre of it all. Though you pushed the darkest truths to the corner for a few hours, making love and comforting each other, all those hurts and agonies are still there. You see it in his eyes, his glance flickering from here to there as he roams with his thoughts.

Neither of you have ever had a normal life and you do not know what to do with one. He has been making difficult choices since he was a child. Neither of you truly knows if you are making the right one now.

You do the best you can with a strong hug. It is a lingering, affectionate embrace, fitting your bodies together until you feel grounded.

Felix looks over your shoulder, catching his own reflection. You look back as well, his cheek against yours, your eyes meeting in the mirror.

“I couldn’t stand the sight of my own face,” he says, his voice low even though you are alone, like the words are fighting his tongue. It is hard to admit. He swallows hard but continues, “I hated the stupid kid looking back at me… I wanted to be someone better, someone who could actually do something right…”

You look at him rather than his reflection. When you touch a strand of blonde hair, he closes his eyes, as if he can feel the pad of your finger on a lock of hair, smarting more than his bruises.

“Is that why… the hair?” you ask clumsily. You do not know how to wade through ten years of emotion. Felix has coloured his hair regularly since the day you met him. The blonde suits him but it is clearly unnatural. It has not been soft in a very long time, coarse from repeated dye jobs.

The colour is just one more layer of his meticulous mask, crumbling in front of you as he nods and sighs. An admittance. He could not stand to look in the mirror and see that other version of himself, the boy he was, the boy who made all those mistakes. You see him, the years of questioning his choices, the impossible tether around his throat. There has never been a day he has not questioned his choices. Working for one bad man or another. Rescuing his friend or his lover. Letting violence happen or letting the violence use him.

You kiss his cheek, then below his jaw, threading your fingers through his hair. You scratch at his scalp, just a feathery light touch, one that makes him melt in your arms.

“I love you,” you say. You find it is an addicting word yet it never loses its potency. Your heart still races when he touches his forehead to yours, when he strokes your sides and hums a gentle sound of pleasure. “Things have changed a lot over the years. But we’re still here.” Still living your lives, even in broken bits, those stolen pieces you mentioned so long ago. “We’ve changed. We’ll change again. Things will happen and we’ll figure it out. But please don’t hate that boy anymore. I care about him a lot. I want him to be happy too.”

His face scrunches with the threat of tears, but he controls himself. He pushes the emotion into a laugh, though it is humourless. Then he closes the space between you and kisses you, cups the back of your head and holds you there until you are both satisfied.

“All right,” he says in a rough voice. “Get dressed. It’s going to be a long day.”

“You’ll be there, though,” you say.

“Always,” he says, a hint of amusement touching the corner of his lips. “I’m your bodyguard, hmm?”

You laugh and kiss him again.

“Right,” you say. “Always.”

Your father sits at a dining table in the penthouse suite. Behind him, a window wall flaunts the city skyline. Daylight casts a glow around him like some deified king lording over his petty kingdom. Guards loiter in the room and the corridor, keeping their eyes sharp as hotel staff prepare the table.

You sit across from him with the sunlight in your eyes, the usual position of discomfort and inferiority. He does not look at you, nor does he greet you, his eyes on his phone until the table is set. A staff member goes to serve him but he dismisses them.

“All of you, go,” he says, not just to the staff but his team as well. They filter out of the room one by one.

The penthouse is a ostentatious space, all white linen and gilded frames, tall ceilings and bay windows, but as the room empties, it becomes frighteningly big. Or maybe you just feel frighteningly small, his tactics working as they often do. Your father knows how to push your buttons because they are the same as his. He is scared. It makes him angry. He makes you scared. It makes you angry.

“Felix,” he says. “Stay.”

Felix is all that tempers you. He stands against the wall but you do not look at him, staring at your father until he finally looks your way. Despite the light, you hold his stare, feeling a modicum of triumph when he looks away first.

“Did they damage you?” he asks. His phrasing almost makes you laugh. Damaged. As if outside forces were needed for that.

“I’m fine,” you say. “My bodyguard rescued me. Your team was damaged, though.” You throw the word right back at him. You cross your leg and sit back, like you are as unbothered as him.

You know that underneath his cold exterior, he is anything but casual. He is letting his rage simmer as he builds to some awful retaliation. He was conducting a mission, sending his best asset on a job, and it was interrupted by your kidnapping. A kidnapping that nearly lost him more than his heir, but that same irreplaceable asset. An asset that previously made a mistake in front of his eyes. This is no longer a game, a squabble between a parent and child, but a real world crisis with dangerous consequences.

You should not provoke him, and that is why you do. Because provoking him is something you have always done and you need him to see you as that hapless child if you are going to beat him. You do not want to arouse further suspicion in him, that you are sitting here thinking about your own schemes, that you know more about his assets and operations than he could ever suspect.

So you toss your rejoinder and he catches it, as he always does, with a cruel smirk.

“There are more where they came from,” he says.

Returning like cockroaches and squashed just the same. If only a multi-generational empire could be toppled as easily. But your father is more than a man across a table; he is ten men in the corridor and more on the ground, he is paid staff and investors and a whole society.

Though you feign nonchalance, inside adrenaline pounds. Sweat gathers, your heart races. He is good at making you feel small, but at least it is predictable. The scene unfolds in your mind before it happens, the script playing before a single action is commanded. You will be scolded. You will be reprimanded. You will be punished.

“Felix, come here,” your father says.

You predicted he would involve Felix after what happened last time. The only question is what manner of punishment he will force from his hand. All you can do is trust Felix to play his role so you can play yours. You made it clear the physical pain was meaningless, that you could take whatever he inflicted. Just another inside joke between you. You will laugh about it one day.

You do not look away from your father. Your eyes are locked in a challenging stare, daring the other to break. You are scared, but you feel so much more than fear and rage. With your love for Felix, with the hope in your heart, you are an ocean of feeling and you are not ashamed of it anymore. You stare your father down and mutely convey that you are not broken, that he did not win, that he never will win.

His answer is the flick of a kitchen knife. It slides across the table and nearly tumbles right over the lip. It teeters within arm’s reach of you. It is tempting to look and consider its purpose with the trepidation you feel, but you do not. You tell yourself he will only hurt you so much, that putting you in true peril would surely be counterproductive to his overall efforts. Whatever plan he has for that knife will be a momentary pain you can recover from.

Then he says, “Felix.”

Felix steps into your periphery, the black of his fatigues a shadow at your side.

“Pick up that knife,” your father says. “Put it through your hand. Right through to the table.”

It is not the demand you were expecting, not by a long shot. As your father stares you down, steady where you start to waver, you realize this test is not for Felix. It is for you.

“I trust,” your father hisses the word, “you know the spot that will inflict the least permanent damage.”

The last time your father made this demand, you and Felix were kids at the start of your messy life together. Instinct propelled you to stop him. Over the years, you have mastered schooling your reactions. The girl who tackled Felix, the girl who sobbed while he was beaten, that girl learned to save her tears for later. Your father’s version of you is a cold, headstrong, hateful fool. She might stop Felix to combat her father, or she might let him suffer out of pure hatred.

Both options feel wrong. Regardless of what you choose, you feel like you are giving something away. You feel like your father will see right past it. He stares at you like he will find your secrets written on your face.

You have seconds to decide and that is not enough time. The moment passes you by. Felix plants his hand and takes the knife. Your father does not count him down. He watches you, willing you to make a mistake, to show your weakness. To prove him right.

You flinch when the knife thuds into the table, the soft reverberation of the wood accompanied with a gross little squelch that sounds too loud in this too big room. Your reaction is strongly stamped on your face, disgusted and upset. You look away to stop the tears that stab behind your eyes.

Everything that has happened, everything you have done, and you are right back here. After everything, he still ended up with that knife in his hand.

Your father rips it out. Felix catches his breath but does not cry out. You catch a glimpse of the bloody knife before your father tosses it on the floor, as if he is discarding something insignificant.

You slowly meet his gaze. He is still assessing you. You cannot tell if you passed or failed his test. By the scrutiny of his regard, it seems he does not know either. All you can do is look at each other while Felix bleeds beside you.

“You may go,” your father says, cold as the ice that locks your limbs. It takes you a moment to stir life back into them.

“Felix,” your father says. “You stay. We have business to discuss.”

You do not look at Felix. You cannot bear to look at him. On the escorted march back to your room, you are quiet, biting the inside of your cheek to stop any more unwanted reactions. Only when you are alone in the room do you let it out, an aggravated cry as you rip a pillow off the bed and whip it blindly across the room.

This was never going to be easy, but now it feels like the ongoing struggle between you and your father has led to an insurmountable deadlock. He has you enclosed in his fist and he is threatening to crush you in it.

You do not think he knows about the true nature of your relationship with Felix. He might suspect anything, an affair the last of it. Even a menial friendship would be a detrimental betrayal to him. All he sees is a smudge of a weakness in what should be the strongest cog in his machine.

He is testing you and tormenting you. He is perched on his pedestal, waiting for you to throw yourself at his feet in eventual penitence.

You will not. Not this time. Your father is expecting retaliation in the form of equal dramatics and you will not satisfy him. You will sit quietly. You will do what you have been doing, stealing pieces of your life in the silence and shadows. He controls a realm of power, affluence, and violence. You control yourself. Love has saved you all this time. It will be your means of escape for good.

You sit in quiet repose until Felix returns. Although you promised to remain calm, you cannot help but fuss over his injured hand. It has already been stitched and bandaged but you peek beneath the binding, almost gagging at the sight.

“All right, enough,” Felix says. He lifts your head and guides it onto his shoulder instead. You are sitting on the small loveseat under the window. You throw your arms around him and hold tight.

“I’m sorry,” you say, a tear sliding from your cheek to his shoulder. You sniffle.

“Don’t be,” he says. “I can take the pain. It means nothing. Sweetheart, he means nothing.”

“I know,” you say, but you sniffle one more time anyway. Gathering yourself, you lift your head to look at him. “What did my father want after I left?”

“I don’t fully know,” Felix says, the tenderness in his expression giving way to uncertainty. “He said he wants to continue the job,” Felix says. “He and Miroh, they’re both chasing these long-term investments in some government building contracts… Miroh has been getting in the way of your father’s deals, so he’s been mostly standing guard. Then he got intel that a significant asset of Miroh’s would be involved in securing an upcoming bid… And he thought… he thought with the right team he could… acquire whatever this asset was…”

“Chris,” you say, a breathless note. “That’s why he brought you on, isn’t it? He told you the acquisition was Chris.”

“If Chris was alive, if he was working for Miroh even after everything…” Felix swallows. He looks pained, like all these words are hard to say. His voice is rough and the words scratch like sandpaper as he forces them out. “Between me, your father’s back-up team, and the element of surprise… We had a chance of stopping Miroh’s subterfuge and getting… rescuing… Chris. Finally.”

But Chris might be dead. Your father might have killed him. Miroh has a vast artillery and the asset in question could be anyone or anything. It makes more sense your father was using Felix to eliminate this obstruction. That is what he always does. He uses someone like a thing, strengths and weaknesses calculated, and works them into his scheme.

You look at the bloody bandage, wrapped tight around that wounded hand, and you cannot bring yourself to vocalize these awful, pessimistic thoughts. You say instead, “But why would he want to continue the job now? You no longer have the element of surprise.”

“No,” Felix says. “We don’t. That’s because the job is over and your father is lying.”

“What?”

“Chris is dead.” Felix says it for you, with a hard set to his jaw that you recognize as a shield against emotion. He does not look at you because it exposes that vulnerable, human part of him, and right now he is fighting to maintain his composure. Cool, collected, he plainly states, “There is no chance of this job succeeding anymore. Miroh caught onto us. He interrupted us. Whatever we were after is not there anymore. Your father is just pulling my leash to see if I fight back.” He takes a deep breath before saying more. “He wants an excuse to question my loyalty.”

“He is provoking us,” you agree. There is a second of silence, both of you in contemplation, then you say, “We can’t let him.”

“If I refuse this job, he will just get worse,” Felix says. “If we try to run right now, we won’t get far. We need to do this right, we need to—”

“Take the job,” you say. “You said yourself, the job is over. My father is a bastard and an idiot but he would never risk sending his best team somewhere dangerous when he has nothing to gain from it. Call his bluff. Take the job.”

“I can’t leave you again,” Felix says, eyes closing as he clenches his good fist. “I won’t leave you alone with him again. Not right now, not like this. Sweetheart, if something happened—”

“I’ll be fine,” you say, wrapping your hand over his fist and gently uncurling his fingers. You nudge your nose against his chin, coaxing him to turn his head. He finally does, sighing as he looks down at you. You smile. “I’ll be safe in the house.”

“It’s more dangerous in there than out here,” he says.

“You know he won’t do anything worse than he’s ever done before,” you say. You look down when you touch the bandage on his hand. “We can take the cuts and bruises a little longer. Do the job, then come back to me. And who knows…” You kiss his cheek, a touch of comfort. “Maybe you’ll find the truth about Chris.”

“I know the truth,” he says, unmoved. “He’s dead.”

You do concede it is incredibly likely. If anything stopped your father from killing Chris, it was not morality, rather the practicality of breaching Miroh’s defences. But it sounds like Chris was trouble to Miroh, so it is possible there was no pushback.

It still breaks your heart to see Felix like this. The burden of this bargain has caused him strife for so long, but you can see how it motivated him too. As the hope leaves him, a light dims, and even your affection cannot ignite it.

“How do you know that?” you ask helplessly.

“I just feel it,” Felix says. “In my heart. I guess. I think, umm. I think. I think I’ve known for a long time. Maybe from the last time I ever saw him. But I needed to believe in it. I think I needed to believe Chris could be saved because then maybe—” He looks down at his injured hand. His fingers twitch when he fails to close his fist. “Then I would have done something good,” he says miserably. “Maybe then I could be worth saving too.”

“Felix. Baby.” You touch his face, still minding the bruise that grows more vicious by the second. It only adds to the ache in your chest as you look at him, beaten and battered for someone else’s sake. He has been taking hits every day since he was fourteen years old. Whether it was for you or his friend, he was willing to surrender his life if it meant even a possibility of saving someone else. “Felix, you have more heart and humanity than anyone I have ever known,” you say. “Everything you have ever done has been because of love, despite what they tried to make you otherwise. How can you not see what I see?”

He looks at you, really looks at you, the way he did this morning. He traces the curve of your cheek and brushes the subtle pout of your lips.

“You’ve always seen more than most people do,” he says. “You give me something else to believe in, you know?”

“Stop flirting,” you tease gently. “This is serious.”

He laughs, his smile soft but sincere. You kiss him slowly, until you are breathing the same uneven breaths, your hearts no doubt beating in tandem.

Then you pick yourselves up and prepare for what comes next.

Your father claims they will be gone for a week but you know it is not true. There is no real mission so they will return in a few days at the latest. For your part, you can only wait.

Even though you have a tenuous plan, it is still hard being separated from Felix. You remind yourself that you could not protect him in the field anyway, but logic is meaningless to your heart. You imagine a version of yourself that is possessed of so many skills, she could wipe out every obstacle without breaking a sweat.

But you are you. Your skills are more emotional than physical and right now that physicality is even worse than usual. You are lethargic from a brutal couple days, weak from the drugging, sore all over, and you cannot sleep well in an empty bed.

You wake repeatedly in the night, startled by a nightmare where you are being taken, where Felix is being beaten, where your father kills him and a dozen boys like him and all you can do is watch. The nightmares drag you into consciousness where you are barely eased, the reality of the world not so different from your nighttime horrors.

In the daylight, you maintain the healthiest disposition possible. You keep your distance from the security team, sitting in your room or quietly on the couch. You do not engage when they antagonize you. They grow bored of your presence soon enough, especially when they cannot get a rise out of you, leaving them with nothing to report to your father.

You expect the hours to drone endlessly.

Then you have a visitor.

You ignore the doorbell. The security team does not seem surprised by the interruption so you disregard it. Maybe it is just another member of the team.

You ignore the bell and the bustle of guards. You head to the kitchen to scrounge for some lunch instead. You hum as you chop vegetables, not paying any mind to the footsteps behind you. You expect it is a member of the security team, stalking you in the name of supervision. You turn to address him, a saccharine sweet smile at your face and a drole quip on your tongue, but your heart stops at the figure standing across from you.

“Hyunjin?”

You breathe more than whisper his name, like surprise has winded you.

You stand there, knife in hand, jaw hanging open as you stare into the face of your old friend. He is somehow even more handsome than you remember, long dark hair framing his face, eyes fierce and cheekbones sharp. An expensive blazer hugs his trim form. His boots resound with a softer thump than combat boots, so you should have realized it was someone else sooner.

You never would have guessed him. You have not seen Hyunjin in years.

“Hello, my girlfriend,” Hyunjin says with a smile, dazzling and beautiful and oh-so very fake.

“What are you doing here?” you ask tentatively, so perplexed by his appearance in your house that you do not know where to begin. You nearly pinch yourself to make sure you are not dreaming.

“Your dad called my dad,” Hyunjin says, his voice very light and casual, like he is picking up a conversation you paused an hour ago and not years ago. “He thought you needed company so you wouldn’t try running away off or something. So here I am. Ta-daaa. Company.”

Security shuffles past the kitchen. Hyunjin pauses, listening to the scuttle of their booted feet. When the din quiets, he smiles at you again. It does not reach his eyes.

“Hyunjin,” you whisper, laying the knife down. “What on earth is happening? Why are you here right now?”

Voices, laughter, the team in the other room. You and Hyunjin look at the door. His smile droops and he leans closer when he says, “Somewhere quieter please.”

You are still in something of a daze when you lead Hyunjin downstairs to the gym. A guard departs after giving the room a sweep, as if anyone or anything could have gotten down here with all the security.

Then it is just you and Hyunjin.

Hyunjin crosses the room, taking in the space and equipment. He whistles long and low while shaking his head. It makes you laugh despite everything.

“No, no, it’s nice,” Hyunjin teases. “I never saw this room before. But I always remembered your house was very small and understated.”

It’s a joke but you cannot force a laugh because his reminiscence sends you hurtling through your own memories. He turns and you see a younger version of him, just for a moment, beaming and bright. Hyunjin used to be the hopeful one, the person with a plan and ambition. He believed there was more to life and he believed he could achieve it. He was so certain that it sparked a flicker of hope in you. Now your flame is an inferno but there is no light or fire behind his eyes. He is so cold that it is hard to believe there was ever a flame.

“Hyunjin,” you say, imploringly. “What happened?”

“A lot,” he says. He puts his hands in his pockets like he feels at ease, but his eyes keep darting around the room, betraying his discomfort.

Though your friendship was short, it was substantial. You know him. Right now he is labouring beneath the weight of his performance, his charming expressions crooked, like poorly fitted clothes. He looks like an uncanny duplicate of the boy you once knew.

You step closer to him. He does not move, frozen in the middle of the room with his hands in his pockets. When he eventually looks at you, it is with a slow lift of the head. You swear you can see a curtain drawing across his face as it happens. This close, you realize just how pale and wan he looks. He is grey at the edges, like he is fading away before your very eyes.

“Hyunjin,” you say, instinctively reaching out. He flinches away from your touch, then tries to smile like it didn’t happen. You do not hide your distress.

He finally drops the pleasant façade. His hands fall out of his pockets and swing at his sides. His countenance is even colder, his striking features sharper than ever as he levels you with a venomous stare.

“Don’t pity me,” he says. “I can’t stand it. I made my choices and I’m living with the consequences.”

“Consequences?” you ask. “Did they catch you trying to—”

“I never left,” he says. “I never even tried. I was close. I had a whole plan. A way to start over. But then...” He turns without any warning and walks to the mirror wall where he looks at himself. His hand hovers in the air, fingers curling. “I met someone,” he says. “And he wasn’t who I thought he was.”

When he does not elaborate, you step closer. You reach out to touch his shoulder, a consolation on the tip of your tongue. Before your touch even lands, he spins around and looks right at you.

“It turns out he was working for my father,” Hyunjin says. He speaks in a plain tone, conveying facts without any unnecessary sentiment, but you can see the red in his eyes as he strains to hold back emotion. “It was my fault for being so stupid. With the way things were going, I should have seen it coming. There is no such thing as selfless love. Everyone serves themselves in the end and I was stupid to compromise my well-being for someone else. I deserved the betrayal.”

“That’s not true,” you say without hesitation. He is talking about someone else but his words feel like a slap against your friendship too. You grab his hand like you can squeeze sense back into him. “I’m so sorry you were hurt,” you say. “But you can’t honestly think—”

“Hurt.” He chokes on the word and rips his hand back. “It nearly killed me. I wish it killed me. I wish I was anywhere but here. But I am stuck here because of my stupid feelings. Everyone has a weakness waiting to be exploited and you can’t trust anyone not to take advantage of yours.”

It sounds so much like your father that you stumble back. It resonates with a heavy slam against your ribs and the heart beating inside them. That heart feels so wrung out these days, swollen with so much love one second then shrivelled with pain the next. It throbs now. You are hurt just witnessing his pain. He has been betrayed and broken and he is unreachable in his grief. You can only imagine what he has endured to end up back here, in this house, with you.

You cannot blame him for guarding himself, but your combative side rears its stubborn head.

“There are good people,” you say. “There are people that can be trusted. You can trust me, after all.”

“I don’t know that,” he says. “We don’t know each other anymore.”

“That is definitely not true,” you say. You and Hyunjin clicked so well because your circumstances were so similar, your fears and pain the same. “We know each other perfectly, Hyunjin,” you say.

He looks away, blinking rapidly. His shoulders hunch. It looks so wrong for a man like him to curl in on himself in shame.

“Fine,” he says. “One person. It doesn’t make a difference.”

“One person makes all the difference,” you say. “Remember Minho?”

That one really makes him flinch. You are pretty sure a slap would hurt less.

“And Felix,” he says, his voice softer now. He scrunches his eyes shut like he can stop his pain with enough concentration. He pushes through and says, “He works for your father, doesn’t he? I remember him at that party. He was with the security team.”

“Yes,” you admit. “He works for him. In a way.”

“And you still trust him?” Hyunjin laughs. He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. “That’s just stupidity.”

“It is not.”

“He works for your father and takes his money and you still trust him not to betray you? That’s stupid.”

“It’s not.” Frustration bubbles inside you. You want to grab him and shake him around, like you can sift through and find the real Hyunjin underneath all this. “I know I can trust him completely.”

“You can’t possibly know that for sure,” he says. “He’ll betray you for the right price. Everyone has a price. You don’t think there’s something he’d trade you for?”

That does sting, if only infinitesimally, as you recall Felix and his conflicting desires. But you do not begrudge Felix for his life choices. He was an impressionable boy, raised to follow orders with no thoughts of his own. It made him wise in some ways and naïve in others. He fell into a bad bargain with a scheming man and found himself trapped. He was forced to make difficult decisions. It was not about choosing you or Chris. You would never make it about that.

“Felix loves me,” you say. “And I love him. You’re right. There are things he wants desperately. But he doesn’t have to trade me for it. He knows I would surrender myself willingly to see him happy. Just like I know, no matter what else happens, he will always come back for me. No matter where they hide me. No matter where I hide myself. No matter what men like my father do to him. We choose each other.”

“Everyone breaks,” Hyunjin says weakly. “No one’s that strong.”

“Not on their own, maybe,” you say. “We’re not alone.”

There was so much ice in his feigned arrogance that you are startled when Hyunjin starts crying. He covers his face with his hands. His shoulders shake and his breath hitches.

“Hyunjin,” you say, your own voice breaking. You rush up to him in a flustered hurry. You touch his head and his shoulders, trying to peer at him through his fingers. “Hyunjin, talk to me, please,” you beg. “Something else is wrong, isn’t it? Hyunjin, why are you here? Where are your parents? Why did my father call yours?”

“My parents are dead,” he barely manages to speak, gasping between his hiccupping cries. “It’s just me. They came for me and my father was difficult, he asked for too much, and they— and I—”

“They?” you say.

It is then you see it. You are clutching his shoulder and it tugs at his blazer. A shirt button pops open and your eyes drop to the exposed bruises across his collarbone. You blink in disbelief at the horrible mosaic beaten into his skin, angry welts of red and purple and yellow. It seems to go all the way down his chest. When you part the material of his shirt, something else catches your eye.

You freeze.

“Oh,” you say. “Hyunjin.”

He is wired. Someone is listening. Your father is listening.

You stop breathing for a moment. The world gets quiet. You look at Hyunjin. An old friend showing up at your house out of nowhere, presented like an offering. Jisung was not important enough for your father to remember, but Hyunjin is a different matter. He is rich if not wealthy. His parents were upwardly mobile, his father the kind of pathetic rich man who thought he was equal to a man like your father. Willing to do awful things to his own son to keep him in his clutches, then selling him to the highest bidder if it meant advancement. His only mistake was asking for too much when he was ultimately expendable. There are always more where he came from.

You want to be wrong. Your father is a busy man. He would not waste time finding Hyunjin and putting him through so much just for this, just to corner you into a confession. But you know he did. This is exactly what he would do. He moves like a coward, killing civilians and poisoning innocent boys, then he makes a show of throwing it in your face.

He always told you friendship was beneath you. What a way to prove it.

“I think you’ve fallen in with a bad crowd,” you say, forcing a laugh through the gathering tears.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, a tearful whisper. He touches your arms like he wants to hug you, but holds himself back.

“Me too,” you say. You warned him a long time ago that befriending you was dangerous. You wish you had been wrong.

You pull him into a hug and he immediately envelopes you, his arms around your shoulders and yours around his waist. He chokes out a sob and squeezes you so tight that your breath catches. Then he just holds you there.

You do not know if it is his cologne or his shampoo, but it smells so familiar. It takes you back to that treehouse, looking over a glittering neighbourhood as the sun set and he dreamed about the dawn.

“I still remember that rhyme, you know,” you say. The address of that cabin, written in a rhyming lilt that you never forgot. “If you ever have a chance again… promise me you’ll try…”

He chokes out another sob.

“How can you still care about what happens to me?” he asks. “What about you?”

“I’ll be fine,” you say. It is spoken calmly, for all that it is a lie. “Promise me?”

He just nods, then pulls you closer again.

You cling to him for as long as you can. It gives you the strength to stay upright despite your shaking legs, even when you hear footsteps coming down the stairs. You brace yourself for the worst, halfway expecting the whole house to erupt in a violent explosion.

It is just a guard. He says, “Time to go, Hwang. Visit’s over.”

You want to keep hugging. You feel like you will fall through the floor if he lets you go. He is just as reluctant, but withdraws when the guard steps into the room. He does not look at you as he leaves, head down as he trails towards the stairs.

“Goodbye, Hyunjin,” you say.

It stops him for a moment. He nods then continues. There is nowhere else to go but back up those stairs.

You are left standing by yourself in the middle of the room. The mirror wall makes the space feel never-ending. You look at your reflection. You look so rough already, scarred from your kidnapping, tear-streaked from crying. Your hands tremble uncontrollably. You remember a younger version of yourself sitting in front of this mirror with Felix, for a moment feeling like a normal girl with her boy. His touch brought you to life. He made you feels things you thought you would never feel.

It will be your own voice your father plays back to you, your own confession betraying you.

You will not be sorry for it.

You look at yourself and wipe your face. You take a breath. You walk to the stairs, one step after another. There are guards upstairs but they pay you no mind. They have clearly received no orders, not yet. You could try to make a run for it, but you would not get far on your own.

Instead, you go upstairs to your room. You look around like it is the last time you will ever see it. You know that is not true, logically. Your father will not kill you, but there are fates just as devastating.

You walk through the room. It is plainly decorated with a mix of things owned by you and Felix. For all that this house is not a home, you carved a shared space in this room. You sit on the bed and study everything from discarded clothes to books to computer parts.

Something compels you to open the drawer on his side of the bed, that same single drawer you allotted when he first moved in. A ragged old beanie sits at the bottom of it, the first thing he ever owned. You fold it over in your hand and squeeze it like a talisman, like it will infuse you with some magic to endure whatever storm is blowing your way.

You cross the room and touch a few more things. You find some university textbooks and your heart aches with the desire to return to those times. You lived a fleeting few years like you were completely free, in love and happy and home.

You will probably never see Seungmin or Jeongin again, but it brings you some peace to know they will live good lives. You will never forget their willingness to intervene on your behalf despite the odds being so stacked against them. Maybe they were not very good at it, smacking chairs and throwing drinks, but you will remember them fondly. You wish you could say goodbye.

With that thought, you pause. Your gaze drifts to your computer.

You cannot say goodbye to Seungmin or Jeongin, but you can say goodbye to someone else.

You never wanted to risk contacting Jisung from home, just in case your father was found out. But everything is ending today, one way or another. There is nothing more you can lose. You will take some comfort in a final word to an old friend before you are sealed in this gilded mausoleum.

You sit at your computer. You log into the blank profile you made some time ago. It is hard to tell if you are nervous because your stomach is so twisted in knots already, but you think there might be some happy anticipation. You try to manage your expectations because there is a chance Jisung did not read the messages, seeing as they came from a blank account.

You should have known better than to doubt him. You log in to several new messages, laughing from the first line.

OH MY GOD!!!!!!!! IT’S YOU????? MY GIRL!!!!!!!

Okay sorry about that I am totally so cool I promise. I’m just in shock.

I know you told me not to, but just so you know, I spent a year trying to reach you...

Well, actually, I spent like four months crying my eyes out and being miserable and pathetic first.. On god, I eyed a jar of peanut butter with some serious thought for a minute there!!! But then no, no way. I had to keep going.

I tried to find you. Your bitch ass dad is famous because he’s an ugly rich loser so his properties are listed all over a million websites. I found the one in town where you must live and I rode my bike there a bunch of times but uhhhhh yeah much to my eternal disappointment I am not James Bond and that security system was insane. Don’t even get me started on when all the dudes in the army gear kept showing up.

On an unrelated note it’s way harder to buy explosives than you’d think.

Just want you to know I did try to get in there. You were never alone even if you felt like it.

But it sounds like you’re not alone anyway HELLLL YEAHHHHH she is getting SOOOME. All jokes aside I am crazy happy for you. You deserve it for real. He better be treating you right though or I WILL find a way through that gate and I WILL kick his ass. Just say the word and I will be there in a heartbeat.

He goes on for a while, the whole length of his message making you smile. When you did not respond, he sent a few more, spaced further and further apart from each other. The last message he sent was just a few days ago.

Hey I don’t know if you’re getting these. I like to think so. You don’t have to answer if you are. I know you are in a dangerous spot. Or maybe you’re not anymore and you got out. In that case, I hope you never read these. I hope you’re out there living your best life. Maybe we’ll cross paths again but if not, I count myself lucky for knowing you at all. I think we’re both slightly insane and everyone else I meet is way too normal haha.

What I’m trying to say is I miss you like crazy. I hope we can laugh together again someday. Even if we never do, let’s say we will. Keep smiling till I’m there. Catch ya later crazy girl.

You smile. Then emotion takes over, tears returning as you lay your hands on the keyboard to type a response.

You have just hit send when there is a knock at your door, then it is opened without your permission. You turn and look at the stoic guard who beckons you forward.

“Your father is home,” he says. “He wants a word.”

You nod. You spare one last look at you screen before logging out and shutting down. You are certain it is the last message you will get to send. A warmth fills your chest regardless. You know it will reach Jisung. His laughter and energy fills you with the strength you need to walk steadily out that door and down the hall.

Hi Jisungie.

Thank you for your messages. I just read them all now. It wasn’t easy for me to check them before, but I did it today because it might be the last time I have an opportunity to do so. My father found out about my love affair and seeing as it was with the one person he could not afford to lose, I have no doubt that a reckoning is on its way. I thought he was bad before, but he has only gotten worse over the years. I am sure this betrayal will put him over the edge.

I do not know what is going to happen. I was scared until I read your messages. They truly made me smile. You have always made me a little braver. I think I got less rebellious over the years because I got scared, but now… The worst has happened and I’m still here.

I will figure it out. But in case I never get the chance to talk to you again, I just wanted to say thank you one more time. I miss you too, Jisungie. I think about you so much. I wish I could laugh with you again, the kind of laughter where nothing is all that funny but we can’t stop anyway. Thank you for the times we did.

I am happy to have lived my life because I knew you. I appreciate all the good times so much more because of the hard times. You were a one-of-a-kind friend. I’d do it all again in a heartbeat.

Keep smiling for me.

Goodbye.

Your father is behind his desk.

There is no one else in the room. They close the door behind you. You walk calmly up to the desk and take a seat in your usual spot. You sit as straight as you can, perched on the edge of the seat. You are still lower than him, but you feel bigger and stronger than you have ever felt in your life.

Your father draws out the silence, perhaps waiting for you to break down. You stare at each other. When he opens his mouth to speak, you interrupt him. You are uninterested in games and dramatic embellishments, which you know he will indulge. You simply ask, “What did you do to Hyunjin?”

“I would not worry about the Hwang boy if I was you,” your father says spitefully. “You have bigger concerns—”

“And yet I am asking about him,” you snap. “What are you doing with him?”

“What I do with everything when it is no longer useful to me,” he says.

It is the answer you were expecting but it still draws your rage like a magnet. It punches out of you, your eyes wet with tears when you say, “You’re pathetic.”

“How many times must you suffer humiliation at my enemy’s hands before you understand that none of this is a game?” His voice rises as he speaks. “Do you want to be out on the streets? Do you want to be brutalized? Do you want—”

“I would rather die rotting in the sewers with Felix than spend even one more minute under your roof,” you say.

You wonder what surprises your father more: the vicious tone or your blatant confession. It stuns him into silence. You know you have disrupted his script. There is little sense in taunting you with your words if you utter them plainly before he can try.

“I see,” your father settles on saying. He presses a button on his desk and the buzzer in the corridor resounds. “Let’s put that to the test, shall we?”

The door opens and several guards usher inside. You spare them a fleeting glance before your attention narrows to the figure between them.

“Felix!” You stand but cannot reach him. He is surrounded by guards and they will not let you touch a hair on his head.

He moves like he is completely boneless, evidently drugged with something to make him bleary and slow. He thumps heavily onto his knees when they put him there. His eyes are hazy as he looks around the office. They pause on you, flicking up and down, then he smiles through the pain.

The pain. It is not just a drug. He looks like he went a few rounds with a cement wall, his lip split and his jaw bruised. His bandaged hand is soaked through with blood, the rest him as battered. His injuries disappear beneath his shirt and pants but you know it is not a pretty sight. You swallow down the bile in your throat before looking at your father.

“He’s your best asset,” you say. “You can’t lose him.”

“Oh? Can’t I?” your father asks. “Can’t I? Can’t I? You think you know something? You think you can tell me what to do? You, when all you do is destroy what I make? I give you everything and this—this is how you—” His yelling sharpens to a shriek before he starts breaking things. It pulls Felix further out of his haze, his eyes tracking the frantic movements as your father smashes a vase near your feet.

You think about that tiny shard of glass from last time, the miniscule thing that started it all. It makes you laugh even though nothing is funny. Laughter is an emotional output just like crying, so it pours out of you with no regard for the actual gravity of the situation.

It only worsens your father’s rage.

“Does something here amuse you?” he asks, but you are laughing too hard to answer. There is a vein throbbing in his forehead and you imagine it bursting. You imagine all your problems solving themselves as he drops dead from his own rage. The image is even funnier because you truly cannot imagine this man dying. He is a monster. If you stab him, you fear he will just mutate and come back worse.

“You want to laugh?” he snaps. He crosses the room to Felix. “Laugh.”

He holds out his hand and someone places a gun in his open palm. This snaps you out of your delirious giggles, a winded whoosh spilling out of you.

Your father does not execute action himself. He always puts the gun in someone else’s hand. The fact he is pointing it at Felix should tell you that his threat is not serious.

But he has never been this furious, his anger a white hot cascade of fire. Felix is just inches from the barrel of the gun. Even an inexpert marksmen like your father could drive a bullet between his eyes.

So the moment he grips the weapon, you shout, “Stop!”

Your father looks at you with a cock of his head, satisfied with your reaction.

Then he jumps back because Felix rushes to his feet, most of the fog dissipated. Your father’s stupid men did not think for a moment that Felix would repeat a strategy. Just days before he allowed himself to be captured so he could rescue you. It seems he has done that again, feigning the depth of his condition. He swings to his feet and kicks out.

His injuries restrict his movement. He is good at ignoring pain but his body overrides his consciousness. He fights nonetheless, struggling with the guards while you watch.

You look around for something that can help. You snatch a paper weight off the desk and prepare to throw.

Your father is a step ahead of you. Suddenly you are staring down the barrel of a gun, your father on the other end, fuming.

“No—!” Felix says before he is beaten down. With his attention diverted, a guard kicks the back of his legs. His knees buckle and he goes down with a groan.

You look at him then flick your eyes back to your father. You raise both hands and lift a challenging eyebrow.

“You want to do this?” you ask. “Really? After everything?”

“After everything,” your father says. “Exactly my words. A house, an education, unending protection. You want for nothing. All I ask in return is obedience and you cannot even grant me that. You have the audacity to betray me for this animal.” He waves the gun around like the clumsy, ungainly thing he is. It makes a few heads duck, including yourself. You fear this man will kill someone without even trying. It makes it hard to listen, which might be for the best, as he goes on a long tirade about privilege and position and loyalty.

He starts merely angry but it turns downright diabolical.

“And you.” He turns to Felix. “I dug you out of Miroh’s gutter! I made you a bargain! I gave your meaningless life purpose! You are nothing without me. How dare you think to take what is mine. How dare you think you are anything more than a dog. How long have you kept this secret? How am I supposed to trust it is the last? You are a liar. For all I know you are lying about everything. Is that it? Are you a spy, feeding reports back to Miroh? Is that why I can never succeed in my missions? Have you been—”

Felix bursts into laughter. His face scrunches with delight, his cheeks dimpled. The low rumble of his laughing voice sounds real, honest amusement at the proclamation. It fades to a sigh, then he looks up.

You have never seen such a dark glare shadow his features, made all the more horrifying thanks to his bloody injuries. It makes your stomach drop even though it is not directed at you.

“You fail at all your missions because you’re an incompetent idiot,” Felix says. “You couldn’t even control two children. What makes you think you can control Miroh?”

“Have you forgotten our bargain?” your father yells, waving the gun towards Felix again. “You lie and trick your way into my household and still expect—”

“Our bargain,” Felix spits the word and some blood sprays out. He spits the rest on the floor and shakes his head. “I know he’s dead. You killed him a long time ago.”

The room is quiet for a moment. Your father is still holding the gun, though it dangles at his side. He and Felix stare each other down. Although Felix is kneeling, his sinister stare is far more terrifying than your father’s blank gaze. But then that empty gaze turns cold and your father smiles, one of those sharp smiles that opens like a slash across his face.

“Now how would you know that,” your father says, “if you are not a spy for Miroh?”

“One of Miroh’s men told us at the warehouse,” you interrupt. It earns you nothing but a wrathful glare from your father. He gestures to you and a guard puts a threatening hand on your shoulder.

“You will speak when spoken to,” your father snaps. He looks at Felix again. “Oh. Yes. You. Whoops. I very nearly forgot, it was so long ago when I killed your friend. Does that make you sad? Poor little boy. You should have remembered your place. Your kind are born to die for men like me.”

“Men like you,” Felix says. Mourning will have to wait so he laughs because he cannot cry. “You’re pathetic. Not a surprise, though, yeah? Since your father took care of everything before I killed him—oh. Whoops.” He tilts his head and smiles, speaking with the same saccharine tone your father just used to mock him. “It was so long ago. I almost forgot I shot your daddy in the fucking head. Does that make you sad? Poor little boy. You should have remembered your place and stayed behind your walls. You’ll never be a man like him.”

Your father has never looked so stricken. You did not even know his face could contort such a way. It makes him look very human for the few heartbeats that it lingers. You can almost picture a younger version of your father, breaking under the fist of his father before him.

Then he schools himself. Once more, the untouchable monster stands before you. The gun wobbles only a little when he raises it, taking aim at Felix.

“Stop!” you shout. You were just picturing the passing of generations, so maybe that explains why your panicked brain compels you to blurt, “You can’t kill him! I’m pregnant!”

This time every head in the room swivels towards you. Even the other guards do not hide their surprise. Your father stares, jaw agape, and Felix looks just as bewildered. You feel bad because you can see thought flickering behind his eyes, wondering if maybe you are telling the truth. It makes his face change, pain flashing. Panic seeps into his veins.

“Excuse me?” your father says.

You almost trip on the chair. Your knees knock and your voice shakes when you say, “You heard me.”

“I know what I heard.” At least it succeeds in garnering your father’s attention. He forgets about Felix entirely as he stalks towards you, gun clutched in his undoubtedly sweaty hand. “My problem lies in understanding how this can be.”

“Well,” you say slowly. “I can’t imagine you really want me to explain that—”

You father backhands you across the face. You careen into his desk, barely catching yourself.

“It could work in my favour yet,” your father says. “Start fresh. Fix where I went wrong with you. Because you are an irredeemable and entirely lost cause.”

This baby is not even real yet you panic at the thought. It unspools an infinite and horrifying future, this house an eternal monstrosity birthing a new generation of tyrant and monster. Hurting and contorting everyone in the family name for the sake of maintaining that vast estate.

This has to stop.

“Of course I am,” you say. You take a long, steadying breath, then you push yourself upright. You turn to your father and meet his gaze, aware of the gun but feigning complete nonchalance. “I can’t believe it has taken you this long to realize it,” you say. “You lost me a long, long time ago. You want to control everything because you’re scared of losing anything. But you’ve already lost what you were trying so hard to protect and you can never, ever get it back. I will not continue what your father started. I will not be what you have become. I am not like you and I am proud of that. I am proud that I love my friends, and Felix, despite how much you tried to stop me. But I am me and I am not scared.”

You dive at him, a vicious tackle spurred by that hurricane of emotion inside you. You tackle him so quickly that it takes the guards a second to react. The gun clatters to the floor as it flies out of his hand. He throws up his fists to protect his face when you swing down with all your might. What you lack in physical strength you compensate with drive, slamming your fists down without care for where they land, again and again and again.

Then someone grabs you by the collar and yanks. It is one of the guards, pulling you to your feet. Your father shrieks and hollers like a wounded dog, snarling and frothing like one too. He gets to his feet and swings at you.

Felix rises, struggling to reach you. You stretch out your hand, your fingertips touching before you are yanked apart from each other. You cry out, struggling in the guard’s death grip to no avail. Felix is fighting the other guards but his injuries put him at a disadvantage.

You are dragged away from the chaos. Your father picks up the discarded gun on his way.

“Take her outside!” he shouts at the guard, then turns to the mess in his office. “Don’t waste your energy. Shoot the boy.”

“No!” you scream, so guttural you hardly recognize the sound. You cry as gunshots ring in the office, but you lose sight of the skirmish as you are dragged, kicking and screaming, down the stairs and out the front door.

You curse at your father and the guard, bits of your shirt ripping when you fight to escape. You are smacked and twisted, your shoulder popping so painfully that it makes you wail.

“Stop it, stop it!” You are fully sobbing, either from pain or panic. It does no good as you are dragged into the night. The grand driveway is lit like a stage awaiting players, lamps and towers beaming over the pavement. The gate opens to the street beyond. It is pitch black. There are no other houses on this hillside, the estate sprawling across its expanse, so there are no streetlights. A black car is parked on the curb. It feels like a chariot to the underworld, black and swallowed by shadow. You are as good as dead. Felix might be truly dead.

You struggle some more but you are in so much pain. Your father is shouting directions at the guard and it splits his attention. His grip loosens and you successfully break free.

You do not hesitate. You run into the street, straight through the pitch black. If you run far enough, you will eventually reach a proper street leading into the city. You do not even care which direction you go. You just run, ignoring the screaming pain in your muscles as your feet hit the pavement.

A gunshot pierces the quiet night. You stumble to a stop, throwing your hand up over your heart. You touch your chest, expecting to find a bloody wound. But there is nothing, not a single drop. You were not shot.

You spin around and watch the guard fall to the ground, a bullet in his head. Your father turns too, holding his own gun at the approaching figure.

Your knees almost buckle as relief washes over you, Felix storming down the driveway with a gun of his own raised at your father. Felix is badly wounded, but even at his worst he is a far better shot than your father. They both know it too, staring each other down as Felix gets closer and closer.

“Stop where you are!” your father screams, his voice breaking.

Felix ignores him, gun still raised. Your father fires a shot that goes wide. Felix does not even blink as it ricochets off a wall. He walks calmly to the sidewalk where your father stands. He does not smirk or gloat. He just looks at the frightened man who terrorized the world to make himself feel better, and he lines up a shot.

Felix pulls the trigger.

Nothing happens.

His brow furrows before his face twists with fury. The gun has jammed or it’s out of bullets, but either way it is useless. He lowers his arm, the gun dangling from his hand as he stares at your father.

Your father just laughs, a ridiculous and semi-hysterical laugh as he stumbles back but never lowers the gun. Felix is much closer now. Even your father could not miss this shot.

Felix drops his gun and smiles weakly.

“She’s funny, you know,” Felix says. “And smarter than anyone I know. She picks up on things everyone else misses. It’s too bad you can’t see it. But then, you’re not like her.”

“Shut up,” your father snaps. “You have exceeded your uses, boy.”

You realize you are running. Even before the conscious thought reaches your mind, your body spurs you into action. Instinct commandeers control and you hand yourself over to it. Felix looks up just as you emerge from the dark. He sees your face for a split second, enough time for him to realize what you are doing and shout, “Stop!”

Your father’s finger is already on the trigger. A shot rings out and this time it does hit you, sharp and searing as you dive in front of Felix.

The gun hits the ground. Your father looks at you with petrified eyes. Felix catches you, supporting your weight as he sinks to his knees with you in his arms.

“Sweetheart,” he says, touching your face, your neck, your chest. “Sweetheart, look at me. Stay with me.”

The pain is excruciating, like nothing you have ever felt before. You cannot even tell where it is coming from. It feels like your neck and shoulder and heart all at once. It radiates and burns. The pain is so overwhelming that you do not notice the wet, tacky feeling of blood. You see it before you feel it, all over Felix’s fingers as he finds the bullet wound in your shoulder.

“It’s okay,” he says, barely more than a gasp. His chest is rising and falling rapidly. You scream in agony when he grabs your shoulder and squeezes it hard in his fist. “I know, I know,” he says. “It exited clean. There’s nothing vital there. You’ll be okay, sweetheart, I got you. I just have to staunch the blood. We just have to—” His voice breaks on a sob and he looks up at your father, his hand covered in your blood and his rage as red on his face. “We have to get her help. Now.”

Your father’s response is to pick up the gun. He nearly drops it, his shaking hands clammy, but he gets an unsteady grip eventually. He points it at Felix again.

“Are you fucking serious?” Felix shouts in aggravation. “Your daughter is going to bleed to death if you don’t do something. Put the fucking gun down!”

“Get away from her,” your father says. “Get away from her and put your hands up. I’ll get her help.”

“No,” you say, shaking your head then crying when pain lances down your neck. “No, Felix. Don’t.”

Your father will not take another shot at Felix, not with you in his arms. Your father might want to control you, but he does not want you dead. You are the only thing that is protecting Felix now. If he moves, he dies.

“Don’t go,” you beg. “Felix, please.”

“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart,” Felix says. He looks up at your father, venom in his voice as he asks, “Are you really going to stand there and let your daughter die?”

“Are you going sit there and let her die?” your father retorts. “Get away from her and I will save her.”

You feel Felix twitch. He presses his fingers a little harder, stopping a rush of blood. It makes you weep and you plead, “Felix no. Please. I can’t watch that. I’d rather it end like this.”

“Don’t say that.” Felix looks down at you. His bloody hand is shaking, tears spilling down his cheeks as he looks at you. “Nothing’s ending. You’re gonna be fine.”

“It never ends,” your father babbles. He almost drops the gun when he trips over the lip of the sidewalk, stumbling backwards into the street as he stares at you. You stare back, wondering if it is your blurry vision or if he is really crying. All you can see is him wiping his face, the gun trembling in his hand. “It just keeps going,” he says. “Only I can end it.”

He is taking aim again. You cannot tell if he is aiming for you or Felix, maybe some half-baked delirious plan in his twisted mind to put you out of your misery and take Felix with you.

Felix does not have time to attack. He can only curl his body around yours to protect you from the shot.

Then a beam of light shatters the dark. It flies up the street, illuminating your father. He looks in that direction. Everyone is drowning in their sobs and it is all so loud that it takes a second to hear it: the heavy, growling drone of a speeding car, hurtling ever closer. The white of a high-beam headlight blinds your father with lightning hot intensity.

It is the last thing he ever sees.

Felix is as startled as you. You both cry out in horrified shock. He blocks your body to shield you from the sudden and unexpected gore. Noiseless convulsions tremble through your whole body as you stare up at Felix, not understanding what just happened.

You both look over as the car rapidly reverses, disappearing just as quickly as it came. In its wake is your father, or what remains of him.

Just like that, the whole world tilts on its axis.

You cannot comprehend what you are seeing. This man was a towering, nightmarish monstrosity, bigger than life and death, holding the world in his fist. Even he desperately believed in his own mythology. It seems impossible that he could be that nightmare but also be this, a broken and very human body, muscle and gristle and protruding bone, half flattened to the tarmac. A sudden and entirely undignified death, comically animal, and as lowly as everything he ever disparaged.

You and Felix stare at him, at the mess of his ruined dead body on the dark street. It is so, so quiet. The house is so still. The street is empty. You can hear the soft buzz of the floodlights.

You make a hurt noise. Felix looks down with a perplexed shake of his head. But he only has a moment to mind you, his mouth open with some unspoken thought, when you hear the car again.

You both look over, your heart racing and your blood spilling over his hand. He is wearing his most determined face, braced to face an adversary.

You do not know who to anticipate. It makes no sense for Miroh to be here. He would not have known anything unusual was transpiring at this house tonight. How could he know to send someone? Yet it is the only thing that makes sense. The only person who could have taken down someone like your father would be someone just like him.

You are braced for the worst when the car comes to a stop. The dead body looks more grotesque as the headlights flash over it.

The driver does not turn off the engine. You hear the patter of frantic footsteps before the silhouette is illuminated by the car lights. Wide eyes meet yours and your heart stutters. Your tears are halted by the face staring back at you.

“Oh my god,” Jisung says. “That was the bad guy, right?”

Felix reacts first, a bark of laughter made in disbelief as he stares at your startled best friend.

Han Jisung is both the same and different, with a flop of dark hair and big brown eyes, but years have passed, leaving him bulkier and more mature. He pushes a pair of glasses up his nose, the wide frames only exaggerating his eyes, making it very easy to hold his gaze when he looks at you.

“Jisung,” you say, and start crying all over again. “Jisung.” You cannot seem to find another word. You just gasp his name between sobs.

Jisung practically flies towards you, landing on his knees.

“Hey, stranger,” he says, carefully touching your cheek. “You’ve looked better, I’m not gonna lie.”

You laugh even though it hurts, reaching for him with a shaking hand. He takes it despite it being sticky with blood, cupping it safely in his own.

“You’re here,” you say. “How? Why?”

“Of course I’m here,” he replies in a soft voice. “I got in my car as soon as I saw that goodbye message.” He gently squeezes your hand. “You didn’t think I’d let you get away twice, did you?”

Your laugh is more of a sob, in too much pain to truly smile. Felix asks Jisung to help, showing him where to apply pressure. Jisung complies, holding you while Felix tugs off his shirt. It leaves him in a tank top, all his scars and bruises on display. You want to fuss over him too but he gives you no opportunity to linger, using his shirt as a makeshift tourniquet for your wound.

“So your boyfriend is Felix,” Jisung says while he works. “That’s great. I was rooting for you two crazy kids. Felix had a pretty obvious crush on you in high school. I didn’t say anything because you kinda seemed to hate his guts but I guess that’s not true anymore. You had some bigger bastards to hate. Speaking of, that was your dad I got right? I mean, I didn’t even think, I just saw him waving that gun around and I hit the pedal. Next thing I knew—ohhh shit, Felix, you’re really strong, what the fuck, man. Have you been working out—”

Felix scoops you into his arms and stands. His usual unwavering strength falters just a little, his injuries protesting his action. You tell him to put you down because it will do no good for you both to collapse. Jisung stands and helps steady you. They both lay a hand on your back, taking some of your weight as your feet touch the ground and you wobble.

“That’s my girl,” Jisung says. “Oh man, that’s a lot of blood, ha ha ha – AHH. No, it’s fine, we’re okay. Careful—”

“Jisung,” Felix says, looking past you to meet his eye. “Are you okay?”

A more than fair question considering how fast everything just happened. Jisung stops rambling and takes a few deep breaths before he answers.

“Okay, yeah,” he says. “Totally fine. For now.”

“Okay,” Felix says. “Because I need you to take her while I—”

Your ignore their conversation. Your eyes are on your father. You cannot even call it his body; it is a carcass. His lower half is gored but his face is mostly whole. You half-expect his mouth to open with a wailing shout. You are so distracted with the thought, you misstep and your weak ankles give out. You are spared a kiss with the pavement when Jisung catches you. It is a haphazard embrace, throwing his arms around you to keep you upright.

“Can you take care of her until I get back?” Felix asks.

“Uh-huh. Yes,” Jisung says. He puts his growing bulk to use and lifts you into his arms, bridal style. You cannot move your shoulder to lift your arms around him, but you rest your head in the curve of his neck as he carries you to his car.

His car. Hysterical giggles bubble inside you, quashed only by the physical ache of your body. Han Jisung really raced back into your life and annihilated the worst of your demons by driving right at him.

Years of nightmares and beatings and pain. Years of your father lording his power over you and the world. Years of believing he was terrifying and untouchable.

Jisung always said it was that easy. He was just a teenager, lookingat the impossible powers that surrounded his friend but believing whole-heartedly he could save her anyway. You argued and pushed him away, but he knew better all along. Jisung was not cowed by money and influence, not impressed or frightened by men like your father who ravaged the world and gloated about it. Jisung had no power or influence of his own but that didn’t matter. He saw his friend was in a bad situation and he wanted to save you. So he did.

He carefully rests you in the passenger seat. In the time it takes him to circle to the driver’s side, you break down crying. The pain exacerbates it, your body seeking release, but it is sentiment that pours out of your heart.

Jisung gets in, looking very startled. He adjusts his glasses.

“Did it get worse?” he asks, reaching for you with a bloody hand. You look at it, you look at him, very literally stained with blood on your behalf. He is staying composed but you can see the jitters under his skin. He just killed someone for you. It might have been a panicked, spur of the moment decision, but the end result was the same. Even though your father was not a good man, taking a life is a serious burden.

And here he is, placing that weight aside so he can check on you.

“Jisung,” you say. You wish your hands were not so dirty because you want to touch his face or hold his hand. You satisfy yourself with leaning towards him, touching your forehead to his cheek as you cry.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Jisung says. He shifts so your foreheads are touching, his clean hand cupping your cheek. “I got you, okay? It’s over now. Felix is gonna take care of it and I’m gonna take care of you. It’ll be okay. Don’t be scared, all right?”

“I’m not,” you say. “What did I do to deserve you?”

“You’re my friend,” Jisung says. “You don’t have to do anything to deserve it, okay? Look. I know what will make you feel better.” He reaches past you into the glove compartment. You have no idea what he could possibly have in there that will make you feel better while bleeding out of a bullet wound in the passenger seat of his car, the same car he used to murder your abusive father.

He fishes around then pulls out a bag of spicy peanuts, the same flavour you used to eat all the time in high school. Even though he was allergic, he bought them whenever he found them, just because he knew you liked them.

You take them slowly, staring at the familiar packaging. You sniffle.

“It was always going to be you, wasn’t it?” you say softly. You could cry all over again. “You really came back.”

Of course Jisung saved you. You realize now your father could never be bested by Miroh or someone like him. They would be locked in a perpetual stalemate, predicting each other’s every step, giving and taking and killing in a circle of violence with no end. But Jisung is not like them.

Whether the gesture was big or small, whether it was peanuts or a rescue, it was selfless, and someone like your father would never understand that. He never saw it coming.

“Well, yeah,” Jisung says. “My promise was forever, remember?”

You can only nod, bumping your heads together. Jisung wraps you in a hug then kisses your forehead before buckling in and taking the steering wheel.

“All right,” he says. “We can catch up after. Let’s get away from this place. It’s giving me the creeps.”

It is strange looking at your house on a news report. It makes you feel like you are watching someone else’s life.

You are stitched and showered, sitting on the floor of a twin bed motel room. You are still damp from the shower but each little trickle feels like blood, your jittery fingers constantly swiping at your skin.

Jisung sits behind you on the bed, his legs bracketing you, double checking your stitches. Felix said it was paramount to avoid a hospital or any other institution that would identify you. He told Jisung to book a room at a motel on the highway and wait for him, that he would stitch you up himself when he arrived. Jisung took the initiative, boasting some first aid training for his job at the grocery store.

“Usually I’m putting bandages on a cut finger,” Jisung said, hands covered in blood as he fixed your wound, “but this is, uh, similar I guess. Sort of.”

Felix arrived while you were in the shower. Now he is in there, cleaning himself and minding his own injuries while you and Jisung watch the evening news report. The blinds are closed, rain pelting the canopy over the balcony, but you are tucked away from the storm, hidden from the world as it mourns you.

“A devastating house fire is believed to have left no survivors on the premises,” the reporter says, backdropped with a video of an inferno ravaging your father’s house. “Police are still investigating, but among the suspected dead is a prominent local businessman and his daughter.” They show a portrait of your father and an old yearbook photo of you. That girl looks nothing like the battered woman you are now. You really do feel like you are watching someone’s else story end.

“Wow,” Jisung says, watching too. “How does it feel to be dead?”

You rest your head against his knee, sighing as you stare at the television.

“I’m not dead,” you say, staring at the photo of you. That girl might be dead, but you are very alive.

Felix accidentally swings the bathroom door too hard, the thud like a gunshot in your mind. You jump a mile out of your skin, digging your nails into Jisung’s leg unthinkingly.

“Ah ah ah ah—” Jisung grabs your wrist to pry you off.

“Sorry,” Felix says, truly apologetic. He closes the door with a gentle click then approaches. He sits beside Jisung on the bed, laying his hand on your head and looking you over. “How are you?” Felix asks. He pays no mind to the news report but that is likely because he is responsible for the story they are broadcasting. You know Felix would tell you every detail if you asked, but you decide you do not want to know how he moved the bodies around. It is enough to see the walls of that place burning.

He packed a few things first. A stuffed duffel bag sits on the other bed. Perhaps it should feel daunting, that all you have left is a single bag of necessities, but it feels freeing. You are not burdened by the weight of more. Your hands might be shaking and you might be hurt in more ways than one, but you can exhale.

You take Felix’s hands and kiss his scraped knuckles.

“I’m fine,” you say. “What about you?”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he says. He looks more tired than you have ever seen him, but he manages a laugh when you pout at him. “Don’t do that,” he says, flicking your bottom lip. “Just some bad bruises, yeah? I’ll be fine.”

You know he is not fine but you respect his desire for peace. You can check his injuries later when he has settled.

“Well then, what about you, Jisungie?” you ask. You turn around to face him. “How are you?”

“Uh, honestly…” Jisung rakes his fingers through his hair then exhales on a shaky laugh. “I’ll let you know when I know. It’s all a bit—uh—”

“Yeah,” you say, taking his hand. “I know.”

You suspect there will be no proper words for a while. You cannot even think of recovery while your wounds throb. There are still gunshots firing in your mind. When you close your eyes, you see a body on the pavement. You expect a knock at the door and a gun in your face, even though there is no reason for that. Miroh is probably sitting back and laughing at the detonation of your father’s house. Your father’s people and investors will scramble over the company tomorrow. That world will turn without you. You will not miss it.

You struggle to sleep that night. You lay on your back to mind your shoulder but that is not your only grievance. Felix lays beside you where he belongs and Jisung is in the other bed, so you are not alone anymore, but your adrenaline will not dwindle. Now that you have a moment of peace, it feels more chaotic than ever.

When you start breathing harder, Felix wraps an arm around you.

“Sweetheart,” he whispers. He does not ask what is wrong. It is more than self-explanatory. You do not need to speak.

You want to roll over and bury your face in his neck, but you cannot move because of your shoulder. You suffice to hold his arm tight, closing your eyes as his protective embrace surrounds you. His heart beats against your body and you let it lull you into a gentle repose.

You do not sleep for long. There is morning light when you wake but it is a bleary, early grey light. Everything smells a little damp from the rain. This is a small motel, meant to serve as a momentary respite for passing travellers. You cannot stay here.

Felix wakes when you do. After a few morning kisses, he rises to use the washroom. Jisung is still fast asleep in his bed, his cheek squished and his hair a shaggy mess on the pillow. You smile, looking at him. There is a gap between the beds but he is close enough to touch if you stretch. You content yourself with looking, thinking about how lucky you are to have him again. It is a light and happy thought, but it darkens very swiftly when you recall what he did to save you. It is going to weigh on him, whether all at once or in pieces.

The weight of trauma will be a heavy burden, but you are alive to carry it. There are others who are less lucky. You think about Hyunjin and your heart strains, recalling his final miserable departure. Your father implied he had Hyunjin killed. If he was not bluffing to antagonize you, then Hyunjin did not stand a chance.

You are sniffling with tears when Jisung blinks awake. He mutters in groggy gibberish before reaching for his glasses. His tired voice is tinged with concern when he asks, “What is it? Do you need something?”

“No,” you say, wiping your tears. “I was just thinking I know where I want to go next.”

It is hard to talk about Hyunjin so you opt for vagueness over specificity. The boys do not question the subject of the cabin when you mention his name. You do not tell them he might be dead. You feel like if you speak it out loud, it will make it true.

It will take a week to reach the cabin by car. Jisung helps you loads the necessities into the back a truck that Felix procured, only questioning its seeming manifestation after the fact.

“I stole it,” Felix answers.

“You stole a car?” Jisung asks. It is a good thing the motel parking lot is empty because he practically shouts it, like stealing a car is the most horrifying thing he has ever heard. You remember how you had the same reaction the first time Felix stole a vehicle.

It makes you laugh when Felix draws his lips into a thin line, shaking his head at Jisung. He turns to you and says, “You two really are identical, you know?”

“What does that mean?” Jisung asks.

“I said the same thing the last time he stole a car,” you say.

“Dude!” Jisung whips around. “You stole two cars?”

“You know I’ve killed people, right?” Felix says dryly.

“Well yeah, I mean, who hasn’t,” Jisung says with a nervous giggle.

You whack him on the arm and shake your head. “That’s not funny,” you say.

“It’s a little funny,” he whispers while you roll your eyes.

Though you want to keep him at your side, it feels selfish to ask Jisung to come with you. He has a life here and he has already done so much to help you. But he surprises you by emphatically volunteering himself, saying he at least wants to help get you there.

“I don’t think I could just walk back into my normal life tomorrow like nothing happened,” Jisung says, tucking you under one arm. “I don’t know what’s gonna happen next. Can’t control it. But I know where I want to be right now. I’ll figure out the rest after.”

So you take to the road, your destination a small cabin far away from your old life. You stop along the way, at first for food and other necessities, mostly stolen by Felix, but then for pleasure when you drive through towns with interesting landmarks. On the clearer nights, you sleep in the bed of the truck.

You still do not stop for a real discussion. You indulge the mental break while you can, all three of you taking the time to literally stop and smell the flowers on the journey.

Bandages still need changing. Stitches need minding. The night before your anticipated arrival, you are in another motel room. You and Felix sit in the small kitchenette, playing cards at the tiny table, while Jisung showers and goes about his nightly routine.

You throw down a couple cards. You look at Felix while he studies his hand. The swelling on his face has gone down which is good for numerous reasons. He has been wearing a baseball cap everywhere, the brim pulled low, to stop people from staring.

There is a hard set to his shoulders. It has been like that for a few days. Even in your father’s house, there were moments Felix would soften, namely when he was curled up in your shared bed and the world seemed far away. Maybe he cannot relax because the world is so immediate now. It is strange that potential happiness can cause as much anxiety as its opposite. Perhaps it is because it is so unfamiliar. Your body only knows how to brace itself.

Felix was raised for that express purpose. Road trips and gardens and motel rooms was not in his training. High school corridors and uniforms once baffled him, the mundanity of everyday life more exhilarating and frightening than a battlefield.

You want to smooth his brow and soften his shoulders. He sits like he is holding a breath and you want to draw it out of him. A part of your stirs with arousal at the consideration, thinking how you could do that. You have always found your humanity in that intimate space. But you are both much too injured to try anything heavier than a kiss right now.

This time, you reach across the table and touch his cheek, with no intention but a soft caress. He blinks up at you, the cards forgotten. You do not know what to say. You just touch him.

He cups his hand over yours, holding it to his cheek. He looks at your shoulder and other bruises. It will take you a long time to heal, but nothing is infected. You do not know how his injuries are faring because he will not let anyone look at them. He claims he is fine. You know he is not.

“I love you,” you say. “I swear it gets stronger every day. Is that crazy? Not a day goes by where I am not grateful for you, just as you are.”

He closes his eyes and swallows. He nods.

“I love you too,” he says in a soft, low voice.

When Jisung leaves to get some dinner, Felix proves you wrong about lovemaking. You are too injured for anything vigorous, but he can still lay you down, can still stretch alongside you. He slips his hand beneath your waistband and touches you with long, careful strokes. You unravel in his arms, your sore spots aching but the pain worth the pleasure. You wrap a hand around the back of his neck and tug him down for a kiss. You kiss him until he sighs and rests his forehead to yours.

“Can I please see?” you ask.

He finally acquiesces. His scars are not too bad, more plentiful than painful. He hisses but exhales when you kiss your way across a couple worse marks.

“We’ll find a way to feel better,” you say, grazing your fingertips along his skin. You recall what Jisung said, about how you did not have to deserve love, you just had to accept it. “You don’t need to prove yourself anymore, Felix,” you say. You dance your fingers down his bare chest to his waistband, kissing his shoulder as he sucks in a breath. “Just be with me. Let me love you.”

“Always,” he says, dropping his head back as you touch him. He cups the nape of your neck, squeezing lightly as you flick your wrist and stroke.

You reach the cabin the next day. It is late afternoon when you find the right place, passing a few other cabins before you find a quaint but charming one in the midst of a meadow. The cabin itself does not flaunt much excess, but the meadow is flooded with flowers, a carpet of colour in the late afternoon light that makes it look like a something out of a fairy tale.

The only problem is the smoke in the chimney. The cabin is clearly occupied.

“Is this the right place?” Felix asks. He and Jisung were admiring the meadow while you stared at the cabin, heart palpitating when you realized it was not empty.

“It is,” you say.

“Maybe it’s Hyunjin,” Jisung says.

“It’s not.” You close your eyes. Hyunjin did not say anything about selling the property when you brought it up. But, then again, there was a lot happening in that final exchange. You made him promise he would try to get away if he could, but it might have been an empty platitude. He knew he was going to die. He knew you would never find out anyway.

The distractions of the past week flutter into nothingness as you reckon with the grim reality of the world your father left behind. You hang your head, swallowing hard.

Jisung and Felix stare at you, their faces falling when they realize what you mean.

“How?” Jisung asks.

“My father chased him down,” you say. “He used him. He discarded him. It’s what he does.”

“What he did,” Jisung reminds you. “And maybe Hyunjin got away. We did! That stupid hot weasel was a bitch but he was resourceful as fuck.”

“Jisuuung,” you say, smacking his arm.

“What? I’m not speaking ill of the dead because he’s not dead,” Jisung argues. “And if he was, he wouldn’t want me to suddenly be all fake and nice to him. I annoy him. That’s how I show my love.” He kisses two fingers and waves it at the sky, then flips his middle finger too. You laugh in spite of yourself, shaking your head.

Felix steps behind you and takes your hand. He kisses your cheek. A breeze blows through his hair, his hat in his other hand. The three of you stand in the meadow for a time, looking at the flowers as you contemplate what to do next.

The front door of the cabin opens. You all turn. An apology sits on your tongue, sorry for trespassing on someone else’s property. The sight of you is no doubt disconcerting. Despite showers and meticulous first aid, you all look very rough, three obviously tired and run down people, a little dusty from the road and streaked with dirt from your hike to the cabin.

You look at the person as they stand on the front stoop. Your brow furrows and the apology disintegrates on your tongue, a bemused question poised to take it’s place.

“Minho?” is all you manage.

You have not seen your first teenage crush in many, many years. He looks older but not too different overall. He is still very striking, even in his homey flannel and jeans, standing on the cabin stoop and looking at you with equal confusion.

“Do I know you?” he asks, which makes sense. You might have had a crush on him, but so did half the school. He was a popular guy. He knew Hyunjin but he only met you briefly.

You want to tell him that. You want to say you are friends with Hyunjin but you find it hard to say his name, especially with Minho gazing at you so innocently. Why is he at the cabin? Was he still friends with Hyunjin? He likely does not know he is dead.

You are spared your turmoil when Felix tugs on your arm, a sharp bid for attention. You look at him, bemused, and he nods his head forward. You look past Minho to the open cabin door as another figure steps into view.

All that twisted pain unspools in your chest. You nearly start sobbing in relief.

“Hyunjin!” You ignore the surprised look on Minho’s face and run right past him.

Hyunjin is standing in the doorway, looking wary until he recognizes you. Then his face breaks into a smile and those long limbs jump the porch steps. You trample a few flowers that have grown over the path, meeting in an embrace amidst sprigs of lavender and vibrant hyacinths. It is a very messy embrace, you and Hyunjin both forgetting you are injured. You crash together only to yelp, your shoulder smarting and his bruised chest just as tender. You laugh at each other then hug gently. When your cheek touches his chest, your eyes water.

“Am I dead after all?” you ask thoughtlessly, the beauty of the terrain and the embrace of your friend momentarily making you think so.

Hyunjin laughs and shakes his head. “I thought you were,” he says. “It was all over the news. I thought for sure—”

“I thought for sure you—” You overlap with him, both of you laughing again. “How did you get away?”

“Nothing special,” Hyunjin says. “I was being watched but they were waiting for final orders from your father. Then word got out that he was dead so they just left. I don’t know if they went to investigate or just abandoned post. I didn’t stick around to find out. I packed my things and disappeared the first chance I got.”

“We made a few stops on the journey over,” you say. “I’m not surprised you beat us.”

“I really thought you were—” Hyunjin shakes his head. “And that it was my—”

“It wouldn’t have been your fault anyway,” you say.

“That’s what I told him,” Minho interrupts, his tone quippy but his lips quirked up in a smile. He wiggles his fingers in a wave when you look at him. “So you’re the friend,” he says. “Nice to meet you.”

“I’m the friend’s friend,” Jisung says, skipping into the scene and waving at Hyunjin. “Hey, man. Missed me?”

He is being playful but Hyunjin pulls him into a hug, very obviously surprising Jisung who almost falls right over. Poor Jisung’s face goes red as a rose. You remember his video about having a crush on his high school rival and can’t help but giggle into your palms.

Felix puts a hand on your shoulder, smiling cordially at Minho. “Hi,” he says.

“This is Felix, my—” You look at each other. You lips move as you look for the right word. Bodyguard is not strictly true anymore. Boyfriend and partner sound so very mundane, but you realize that is what you are now. “Boyfriend,” you say, feeling hot with embarrassment for no good reason. You suspect the little things will have you flustered for some time.

“Boyfriend,” Felix repeats, looking quite delighted for a second. You are certain only you see the flicker of sadness that follows. He blinks, his gaze faraway, but he covers it with another smile quickly enough. “Nice to meet you,” he says.

“I guess I’ll have to make a bigger dinner,” Minho says, playfully dry like the idea is a hardship, but smiling a knowing smile at Hyunjin, clearly very happy for him. “Come on then. Get inside already. You’re crushing the tulips.”

The cabin is one floor with a loft. The main bedroom, kitchen and facilities are downstairs, some extra makeshift bedding thrown together in the small sitting area by the fireplace. The upstairs loft is a small second bedroom, sparsely furnished with a mattress and blankets and little else. The ceilings are low but the space is blessedly private. You think it is some of the finest accommodations you have ever stayed in.

You throw yourself on the mattress, curling up with a pillow and blanket. Felix smiles and leans down to kiss the top of your head. When he pulls away, you take his hand, regarding him imploringly.

“Just gonna take a shower,” he says. “Wanna clean up, yeah.”

You nod. Even though you can see he is struggling with something, you let him go. If he is not in the mood to talk, you will wait. A shower will help him feel better.

He takes his bag and climbs back down the ladder. You mean to wait for his return, but you feel such calm at finally reaching your destination. The laughing voices of your friends float up to the loft, putting you even more at ease. You release a breath and lay your head on a pillow. The next thing you know, you are blinking awake. The sky is a purpling pink, the day drawing to a close. You can smell something cooking downstairs. Your friends are still yammering away. Hyunjin’s relentless giggles at Jisung’s goofy jokes makes you smile.

You climb down the ladder and wander into the main room. Felix was not upstairs but he is not with the others either. He must have finished his shower a long time ago now.

“Where’s Felix?” you ask, an edge of panic in your voice.

“He’s just outside,” Minho says from behind the kitchen counter. “He said he just wanted some air.”

“Oh,” you say, feeling a little foolish for panicking without reason. “Right. Thank you.”

“Don’t worry,” Minho says, winking to comfort you. You smile but nonetheless wrap your cardigan tighter around you, feeling a little embarrassed.

Felix has been glued to your side for ten years. Your instinct now panics in his absence, but you realize his absence is a good thing. He does not need to be beside you at all times. He is free to wander if that is what he wants. You are glad he stepped outside for some air, rather than sitting over you.

You step onto the small porch and look across the meadow. You can see a shape sitting among the flowers at the edge of the field, looking down the slope to the park valley below. You cross the flowers, minding where you step. The breeze parts your cardigan and you tug it closed. It is a somewhat clumsy walk overall. Your last few steps are a proper stumble over a rock. You miss it completely, distracted with what you find.

Felix sits with his back to you. You thought he was wearing a hat, but now you can see it is his hair. He dyed it a shock of pitch black and trimmed the edges. It is a messy, jagged cut that you will certainly have to fix later. You suspect he did not spend much time looking in the mirror.

“What’s this?” you ask. “Is this why you wanted to stop at that drug store?”

Felix looks up at you. The dark hair somehow makes his freckles stand out more. He looks different but still very handsome. You think you might be falling in love all over again, a little flushed inside as you sit beside him on the grass.

“Yeah,” he says. He runs his fingers through his hair, glancing up at the dark locks from beneath his lashes. He sighs. “And I don’t know why. I just…”

You put your arm around him, drawing him close to rest his head on your good shoulder. He falls against you, breathing out again. His shoulders droop, losing some of the tension that has plagued him.

“I don’t know what to do now,” he says. “I know this is all good, but I feel like I’ve done something wrong. Like I’m not supposed to be here. And I keep thinking about Chris. How I—” He rubs his face, then chokes tears. “What am I supposed to do with all this life, especially when I couldn’t give him back his?”

He cries properly now and you let him. There is no right thing to say, not that you can think of, so you just hold him until he has expended the worst of his pain through his tears. He takes a few shaking breaths before he sits upright, wiping his face. You rub a circle on his back.

“And you,” he whispers. “It’s like, I feel everything all at once. You call me your boyfriend and I’m happy, then I see you hugging Hyunjin and I think—he knows how to be a person. I don’t know how to be anything.”

“Felix, you know Hyunjin is gay, right?” you ask. You guarded that secret before but seeing as Minho is here at the cabin, you suspect Hyunjin is not keeping it secret anymore.

Felix stutters on a shaking breath, looking momentarily confused.

“Huh? He is?” he asks, then gets a little weepy again, saying, “That’s nice for him.”

“Oh, baby,” you say. You kiss his cheek and snuggle close to him, resting your head on his shoulder. “I don’t know what to say. I’m a mess too. I don’t know how to do any of this right. But I’m pretty sure grieving your friend makes you more of a person, not less.” You look at each other. You touch his cheek and stroke a thumb over his freckles. You think you have them mapped by memory, every last dot. “You’re not alone,” you say. “I want to be with you when things are bad, not just when they’re good. And you and me, we’ve known a lot of bad.”

He laughs, his breath dancing over your lips with your proximity. You smile fondly.

“I think it’s time we feel some good,” you say. “We’ll figure out what that means eventually. Together.”

He draws you close and kisses you, a sweet kiss that deepens. You cuddle when the breeze blows a little harder, the evening chill creeping into the sunset. Still, you do not move, sharing heat between you and sitting among the flowers until the pink has left the sky and a blue evening blurs into the purple wash.

Minho sticks his head out the door to call you in for dinner. You stand first and offer your hand. Felix takes it, then kisses you one more time. You walk back to the cabin, hand in hand.

Warmth wraps around you like a fuzzy blanket when you step inside from the cold. Hyunjin and Jisung are playfully arguing at the table, Minho standing over them and yammering some nonsense back. You and Felix smile at each other before joining them all at the table. After he has served the portions, Minho sits as well.

There is a moment of silence, everyone looking around the table at everyone else. They all looked flushed with warmth and life, Hyunjin smiling and Jisung beaming at you. Felix puts his hand on your knee under the table, squeezing softly. You look at him with another smile, then a laugh, a sound of disbelief that resonates with everyone. You are here, impossibly but truly. You have no idea what happens now.

“I’ll break the ice,” Jisung says. “Because I have a confession, while we’re all here, and Hyunjin has his hot boyfriend cooking us a meal. Hyunjin, my man, I’m sorry for being the dick of all dicks when we were in high school.” Jisung lays a hand on his heart and dramatically makes his confession. Hyunjin’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline as your goofy friend continues, “Turns out having an arch nemesis is super gay. And I was a stupid repressed bisexual who thought furiously staring at you for seven hours a day was a totally normal thing to do. Sorry, man. Congrats on the hot boyfriend, though.”

“I’m not his boyfriend,” Minho says. His elbow is on the table, chin in his hand. He is grinning at Jisung.

“Come again?” Jisung says.

“Not his boyfriend,” Minho says, laughing. “I’m his friend. He was in trouble and asked for my help. I’m a good friend so here I am, helping him get settled. I’m actually married.” He holds up his hand, proudly displaying a wedding band. He giggles some more. “He’s single, though.” He gestures to Hyunjin.

Jisung looks at Hyunjin who has gone very pink in the face. He glances at Jisung and laughs, covering his mouth to try and contain it.

“Oh. Oh. Oh. Yeah. Cool.” Jisung scratches the back of his neck, then his brow, then his chin. He taps the table and nods his head rapidly. “Awesome,” he says. “Well, I’m really glad we clarified that before I made a really ridiculous confession in front of everyone. That would have been super embarrassing for me.”

You all laugh, genuinely as Jisung soaks it in with a silly little grin. The sound of your collective delight fills the cabin before chatter begins again and you start eating.

You glance around the table while taking a bite. Your shoulder aches, and Felix’s bruises are still healing, and you will not be surprised if a nightmare jolts one of you out of sleep tonight. But you will wake beside Felix, you will comfort each other, and you will fall back asleep. You will wake up tomorrow and try it all again.

You know the times ahead will not always be easy. You are ready to make mistakes and try.

It is not a perfect ending, but it is a perfect beginning.

#skz smut #stray kids smut #lee felix smut #lee felix x reader #felix x reader #skz x reader

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fuckyeahgoodomens · 4 months

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Ooh! A wonderful interview with Rich Keeble who played Mr. Arnold (the one with the Doctor Who Annual :)) in S2! :)❤

Q: In Good Omens 2 you play Mr. Arnold, who runs the music shop on Whickber Street. Were you a fan of Good Omens before joining the cast, and is it challenging to take on such an iconic story which is already loved by a huge fanbase?

A: “There’s always pressure if you’re working on something with an existing fanbase and people might have an idea already as to how you should be approaching something. To be honest I was aware of the show but I hadn’t actually seen it before I was asked to get involved. I knew it was something special though! I remember talking to Tim Downie [Mr. Brown] about how when you tape for certain things you know if something’s a “good one”. Of course by the time I was on set I’d watched Season 1 and read the book.

I had an interesting route into the show actually: I was asked at the last minute to read the stage directions at the tableread on Zoom, and Douglas [Mackinnon] the director called me up to discuss pronunciations of the character names etc. To prepare further I quickly watched the first episode on Prime Video, and I was very quickly drawn into it. A couple of hours later I was on a Zoom call with David [Tennant], Michael [Sheen] (with his bleached hair), Neil [Gaiman], Douglas and the whole team, including Suzanne [Smith] and Glenda [Mariani] in casting. After that readthrough I asked my agent to try and see if she could shoehorn me in and she came back with a tape for Mr. Arnold saying “you play the piano don’t you…?” They wanted me to demonstrate my musical playing ability, so I rented a rehearsal studio room in Brixton for an hour and filmed myself playing piano (and drums just in case), then I did my scenes a couple of different ways and I guess it wasn’t too terrible!”

Q: During episode five you mimed to music written by series composer David Arnold alongside a real string quartet – this must have been very immersive! How did it feel to work with David, and bring the ball to life?

A: “I actually didn’t meet David Arnold sadly, but I did work with Catherine Grimes, the music supervisor who is lovely. David was at the London screening but I missed an opportunity to go and say hello to him which I kicked myself about.

I remember before I was in Scotland there was a bit of uncertainty as to whether I would need to play anything for real or not, so I practised every day playing loads of Bach and other music I thought was era-appropriate just in case they asked me to do anything on the fly. So yes, it was very immersive as you say! They sent me three pieces of music to learn which I practised in my Edinburgh apartment on a portable folding keyboard thing I bought. They introduced me to the string quartet (John, Sarah, Alison and Stephanie) and I tried to hang out with them when I could. On the day we all had earpieces to mime to. I had to mime while listening out for a cue from Nina [Sosanya] from across the room, then deliver my dialogue and carry on playing, which was tricky! The quartet and I helped each other out actually: Douglas would say something like “let’s go from a minute into the second piece of music”, I’d look at the sheet music and whisper “where the hell is that?” and one of the quartet would say “we think that’s bar 90” or something. Here’s a little bit of trivia: the shooting overran and the string quartet couldn’t make the last day, so they found some incredible lookalikes to replace them for the scene when we get lead out of the bookshop through all the demons, although I think they also kept them deliberately off camera.”

Q: What did you think of your music shop when you first saw the set? Did you have a favourite poster or prop?

A: “I thought it was incredible! It could’ve been an actual music shop with all the instruments hanging up with the “Arnold’s” price tags on. The attention to detail was incredible, well IS incredible as I understand it’s all still there. It’s hard to pick a favourite to be honest. I did a little video walkaround on my phone at the time so maybe I’ll post that if I won’t get in trouble. Interestingly the shop interior itself was elsewhere on the set to the shop entrance you see from the street. You walk out of Aziraphale’s shop, over the road, through the door of the music shop and… there’s nothing.”

Q: Mr. Arnold is tempted into the ball by a Doctor Who Annual and is playing the theme in the music shop scene – are you a fan of Doctor Who in real life? And what was it like making those jokes and references in front of the Tenth Doctor David Tennant?

A: “I’ve always dipped in and out of Doctor Who over the years since Sylvestor McCoy, who was doing it when I first became aware of it when I was growing up. Even if you’re not a fan it’s one of those shows you can’t really get away from, so doing that particular scene in front of David was really fun, and of course Douglas had directed Doctor Who as well. Apart from the amusing situation of two supposed Doctor Who fans talking about Doctor Who without realising they’re in the company of a Doctor Who, I also seem to remember Michael being the one to suggest that he would deliver his “due to problems at the BBC” line directly to David.

Oh, and I think it was actually my idea to grab the annual off the harpsichord before joining the queue behind Crowley at the end of the ballroom scene (which we’d shot weeks earlier at this point). When we were blocking it out and rehearsing I knew I had to leave my position and get to the front for my “surrender the angle” line, and then later it just felt like I wouldn’t leave without the annual so I ran back through everyone to grab it. Nobody seemed to have a problem with me doing that so I just carried on doing it when we shot it! I do remember it being a fun set with Douglas and the team being very open to suggestions.”

Q: How did you balance filming both Good Omens and BBC Ghosts at the same time?

A: “Luckily both shows were a joy to work on, and everyone seems to know about both of them. We were shooting them in early 2022 and I also had a little part in an ITV drama called ‘Stonehouse’, starring Matthew Macfadyen. I usually never know when I’m working next so to have three great TV jobs at once was very unusual. There was all this date juggling and I actually almost had to turn down Ghosts due to clashes. Luckily both shows had to move some dates so it worked out. But yes, I spent two weeks up in Scotland shooting all that Good Omens ballroom stuff, then I came back down to London to do Ghosts, knowing I’d be back up to shoot my scenes in the music shop in a couple of weeks. Now, when I found out who was playing my wife in Ghosts I couldn’t believe it: Caroline Sheen – Michael Sheen’s cousin! She was amazing and that was another great set in general. I say “set”, but it’s all filmed in that house which surprised me. I’d worked with Kiell [Smith-Bynoe] and Jim [Howick] before, and Charlotte [Ritchie] was in the Good Omens radio play a few years ago and a big fan of the book. Charlotte’s very musical of course and we got talking about my folding keyboard I had for practising my Good Omens stuff, and she ended up setting it up in the house for us to have a play on!

Now, when we’d shot all our internal scenes there was this big storm forecast, and our external scenes were scheduled for the day of the storm, so that had to be moved into the next week. It meant I ended up shooting those scenes outside the house, then going straight back up to Scotland to shoot the Good Omens music shop scene the next day! When I mentioned to Michael I’d just worked with Caroline he said “ooh she’s in Ghosts is she!” and revealed that she’d texted him about me which was rather surreal. Then later after the Ghosts wrap party Kiell gave me a part in his Channel 4 Blap, so at the time I felt like I was killing it career wise, but the industry quietened a bit after that and my workload eased off over the year so I was in my overdraft by November.”

Q: What are your plans for the future – can we expect to see you in something else soon?

A: “This year, after a bit of a quiet start, I was very fortunate to work on a Disney+ show called Rivals which stars… David Tennant! I think I’m allowed to say my character is called Brian, and I shot five episodes so that was another really amazing job, and great to work with David again (I told him he must be my good luck charm, although I hope he’s not sick of me). That should be out at some point in late 2024. Other than that I’ve filmed a few other bits I presume will be out next year, one of which is called Truelove on Channel 4 which actually looks really good. That starts early January. Of course now Season 3 of Good Omens has been greenlit, I would love Neil and the gang to have me back on that… but I can only keep my fingers crossed!”

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planetflorxa · 1 year

Text

Kissing in the bathroom Kissing in the bathroom

NOTICE!!!!- “…” is used for the person you are fucking. Think about who ever you want. I thought about mikasa, hange and yae miko. This story is rated e for everybody who is afab. No color stated, height, or weight. Also hair texture, color or style. This was just a spur of the moment. It’s not really proof read. Sorry…

warnings: Fingering, Kissing, Strap usage, Semi public sex, Bathroom sex, and Aggressive partner. This is a WLW story. She/her pronouns used for …

Kissing in the bathroom kissing in the bathroom

Y/n: i hope nobody catch us

… : but i kinda hope they catch us

♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick” you said looking at … and excusing yourself from the table.

… looked down at her phone to see a notification from you that read:

come to the bathroom please

They looked around at everyone who were busy with their own conversation to noticed anything she was doing. So she got up and smiled at the people who she was eating dinner with a walked calmly to the bathroom.  

She knew what was about to happen. Nobody knew you guys were dating so it was light teases, ass caresses where no one could see and sneaking off to the bathroom where she would ruin you as quickly as you walked in the bathroom because she knew for a fact you could handle it because if you dating her you had no choice. She was rough and aggressive during sex she didn’t know how to be anything else. You didn’t mind it though. You loved it. It felt amazing.

she kept making her way through your shared friends house. Oh how she loved having straight rich friends. Lowkey she strongly disliked these people they were the reason why you had to hide the relationship in the first place. They were friends of the family and take all that out they were cool people but add that back in they were annoying, nosy, and, selfish.

before she knew it she was at the bathroom she was about to knock but you flung the door open like you knew she was coming.

“Finally” you said pulling her into the bathroom and locking door. She took notice of that. “i’ve missed touching you” You whispered as you ran your hand up her chest giving them a light squeeze on the way up to her neck. Which you had to reach up and touch seeing as though she was taller than you. “hmm you missed me baby why? i’ve been sitting next to you the whole night” she said with a stoic look looking you dead in the eyes “You know what i mean” you sighed confidence diminishing finding it hard to look her in the eye “Yeah i know what you mean baby i know” She turned you around towards the sink. “Sit up here for me” You hopped up on the sink getting impatient she was just looking you not doing anything and it made you so frustrated.

“If you’re gonna do something please do it now” “so impatient for what” she said walking towards you “We don’t have all the time in the world you know” She moved closer to you and moved you hair out of the way a bit so she can bend down to your ear “with how quick you cum I think we do” she put her lips on yours harshly and unexpectedly taking your breath away. Her tongue ran across yours taking immediate control. She grabbed your hips not waiting to break the kiss and dragged you off the sink. She made her way over to the door and pushed you against. All with not breaking the kiss and not coming up for a breath. She took her hand and shoved it down your pants. You knees almost gave out with anticipation of what’s coming. “mmm you’re so wet and it’s only for me” She then stuffed two fingers into you and at the same time she unlocked the door. it was a dangerous game you guys were playing except you didn’t know you were playing. She pushed her fingers deeper before getting annoyed. “take the panties off hurry up” And you did. You snatched them off as fast and hard as you could.

You reached you hand out to her handing them to her knowing she wanted them. She put them in her pocket and went right back to kissing and fingering you. You struggled to kiss her back and she loved it. It made her so wet to feel like she had so much control over you. She took her other hand and started choking you and broke the kiss. Not hard though just enough so you can feel woozy. Her fingers didn’t stop though. She made an effort to hit your sweet spot every time. It felt so good. You felt overwhelmed. Tears started flowing down your cheeks and plump lips. “Are these tears for me?“ “Uh huh please i need more i know you have it on i saw it” “okay turn to the sink then greedy” it was unclear who was really greedy based on the way she bent you over the sink so fast. “You better cum quick” “always”

She rubbed the strap up and down your pussy getting it as wet as she could before plunging in and immediately going hard. “fuckkk~please wait” You said reaching your hand back trying to slow her down but to your disadvantage she grabbed it and used it to hold while she’s fucking you.

Knock knock knock

“[NAME] you’ve been in there for a while are you okay”

“Answer her slut” she said bending down and whispering in your ear only for you to hear. “Yes i’m okay il- i’ll be out in a bit” “okay have you seen …” “Oh she’s in here to I’m fixing her make up” “Ouu can i come in too” She twisted the knob the door slowly creaked open and you saw her through the mirror smirking. this game very dangerous and you’re now aware that you’re playing it and you’ve been losing. You pushed her out the way and shut the door back legs wobbling and all. “We’re almost done it’s no use we’ll be out in a second” “OKAY HURRY WERE GONNA GET THE HOMEMADE ICE CREAM OUT”

“What the fuck … are you fucking crazy” You said punching her in the chest “ow why would you do that” “You almost got us caught idiot” “no i think you’re about the be the reason of that” She grabbed you by your hair and slammed you against the sink once again it hurt you felt like you had whiplash. She stuffed the whole thing into you before she was only fucking you half now she has the whole thing deep inside you. “Scream for me i know you wanted to” no~~ ah please slow down” “no you’re gonna cum for me because i wanna taste it” She angled her hips so they plow into your g-spot and that spot only.

“Ahhh-“ she saved you the embarrassment and covered your mouth with her hand not letting up on the pace or depth yet. All that was heard was your muffled moans and squelching. “i know you’re close i need you to come for me baby i wanna eat the cream your gonna give me before i eat theirs” “mmm …~” she thrusted harder making your body weak knees almost buckling “i’m comi-ahh” She slapped her hand over your mouth as quickly as she could “Shhhhh baby i know i know but we can’t let them hear you right” she let you ride out your orgasm as efficiently as she could. She slipped out of you and bent down and started licking up as much as she could trying by her best not to overstimulate you as much,

“Okay stand up look at me” She grabbed you and started fixing your hair. And then she rummaged though the drawers to find a towel she knew would be there due to the previous situations in the bathroom. “Okay i’m gonna clean you up then you’ll be okay right” “yeah i’m okay i’m tired though” “mhm i know” you two finished the bathroom and walked out as if nothing happened.

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justporo · 6 months

Text

Senseless

Astarion, Staeve and the others barely survived their last big fight. Staeve can barely take the exhaustion which might or might not be amplified by how his local vampire has been regularly feeding on him. He desperately tries to push through... And Astarion has a few things to say about that.

MASTERLIST | AO3

Author's Note: This will be quite long, so... sorry! But I have a few things to add about this. First of all, I dedicate this piece of writing to the lovely @velnna - creator of the legendary Staeve and incredible artist! (Check him out if you don't know him already, I will say it again) This story is a continuation to "Bloodless". Back during writing that I already imagined Staeve being the Tav in that story (but didn't officially make it so). Back then I was waaay to too scared to tag velnna - but: I recently found out (well, he told me himself- and very kindly), that he indeed found it, read it - and liked it! (I was in shock...) And so I immediately thought that I would have to write an actual Staeve x Astarion piece for him. So here we are! @velnna, thank you so much for your kind words - I will be thinking of this and be motivated by it for a long time! And thank you also for all the amazing art you provide this community with! It's written from the usual second person POV - but it's STAEVE!

Pairing: Astarion/Staeve (You, male reader) Warnings: none, but major Act 2 spoilers so it will fully remain below the cut Wordcount: 3,5k ~~~

Barely, just barely had you all made it out of this godsdamned mausoleum alive. And after slaying a demon, oh, some other folks too, completing the Gauntlet of Shar, and a trip to the Shadowfell, you felt positively exhausted. And you felt that it was rightfully earned. Especially knowing that you wouldn’t get much rest before you were taking on an even bigger threat.

No rest for the wicked, it seemed – even though you weren’t entirely sure if that meant you or your foes.

You’d been pretty much exhausted even before you had entered the mausoleum and then what lay beneath (and before a certain devil had made it even worse). All because a certain vampire had to be kept fed and happy. Not that you were complaining about it though.

The two of you had your disagreements about it. Especially since you had already ended up in the dirt once because you might’ve been just a tad too eager about offering your neck to the vampire. You had both agreed to take it a bit slower after that - at least with the whole feeding thing.

Although you had still felt like it hadn’t been that much of a deal, the vampire had kept hissing at you to not be so desperate, as he called it. You would have called it: being way too stubborn to accept some godsdamned help.

And that is what had become of you both: two idiots, not really being able to admit to each other how deeply you actually cared for the other. Until just recently.

But even with that - it still meant you were both very much on uncharted territory. And putting feelings into words after such a long time of just trying to suppress them was by far not an easy feat to achieve.

And then, when you had entered the Shadowlands with barely anything alive in it – what else could you have done but to offer yourself up again? Astarion’s survival instincts had kicked in once more and so had your urge to provide – for as long as you were able to be there for him.

On top of that, the moments of tenderness that always followed, holding each other, kissing each other, deeply, – and before a certain night not long ago, often more – had done their fair share of consoling you about just a little blood loss. Barely anything couldn’t be forgotten as long as you were laying in the arms of someone you wanted to just keep holding onto – right?

But as much as you tried to ignore it: you still felt it. Felt how the generous donations to your local vampire tended to make you a little sluggish. Maybe it was even a bit more than just a little. More than once causing you to only make a critical dodge or lift your blade to parry in the last possible moment. Your A game definitely looked different.

But then again: did you want to be responsible for Astarion’s waning strength when it was so easy to just saunter over to him in the evening? Talk to him, get him to throw some of his sultry lines at you, cheesing your way to the same moment almost every night where you deliberately offered the vampire to feed on you. And he always accepted in the end.

It had become a well practised dance between the two of you over the past time spent in these godsforsaken lands. And so it had been in like about you trying to hide the effects all of this had on your constitution

So, when you had come out of the damned crypt – alive, even if only by a hair – your first order had been to lie down. Just right in front of the stone arch. Right in the dirt.

“Gods above and below”, you whispered, letting out a sigh and spreading out all of your limbs.

As soon as you made contact with the ground you knew it would be next to impossible to get up again in the near future. So, you settled for getting cosy with what you got. Which meant wiggling around until you found a somewhat comfortable position where the sword on your back wouldn’t press too much into your back.

“Gods, Staeve, you couldn’t wait ten seconds?”, Shadowheart scoffed and made a big step over one of your stretched out limbs – too stubborn to actually find a way around you. Incredible, how she still had the energy to be sassy after everything that must be weighing on her mind now. But then again, you really couldn’t blame her for deflecting with a generous amount of sarcasm.

“Ten seconds? What difference would that have made, eh?”, you answered her.

You lifted your head up a little. “I’d just be lying over there then”, you continued and weakly pointed down the path a bit.

The cleric just rolled her eyes at you and groaned at you again as the rest of the companions left the dusty old place as well. All of you blood covered and feeling exhaustion down to your bones.

You closed your eyes as you felt the fatigue grab almost complete hold of you. Meanwhile you heard how some of the others settled down around you. Halsin, who’d been lightly injured in the fight, winced as he sat down.

Your eyes flew open at the sound of it and lifting your head up again, you looked at him. But the druid just smiled and waved you off - no big deal, thankfully. So you let your head sink to the ground again, eyes shutting with a sigh. You barely had it in you to stay awake right this moment.

Your limbs felt heavy as lead, and you felt the drag on your eyelids. Meanwhile your pulse was still thrumming in your chest and your ears. A nervous rhythm that threatened to become the only thing baring you from drifting off to blissful and much needed sleep.

You were well aware that this kind of exhaustion wasn’t normal - even with everything you and the others had gone through. It had slowly become more and more - up to where you were now lying in the dirt, not sure if you would make it to camp tonight. Might be you were kind of in a pickle - but best not to dwell on it.

Next time you opened your eyes was when you heard some rustling quite near to you. It was Astarion, kneeling next to you. He was giving you one of his judgemental glances with a raised eyebrow, red eyes piercing as ever.

“Oh, hi love”, you said and grinned, tiredly wiggling your eyebrows at him. The vampire didn’t even acknowledge you - except for his eyebrow rising still a bit higher.

“So”, he drawled, an edge to his voice you couldn’t fully place, “are we getting up or do we have to carry you, love.” He made a little dramatic pause before he sarcastically spat out the last word.

You slapped your hand to your armoured chest with some effort and made a face that hopefully conveyed how hurt you felt by his implied accusation.

Astarion didn’t give a shit about your histrionics.

So you decided for a comeback.

“My friend, you aren’t carrying anyone, anywhere at any time in the near future”, you replied dryly. You heard Karlach snicker somewhere behind you. At least you’d gotten someone’s approval. The vampire gave the tiefling a death glare, then his ruby gaze wandered back to you.

And then it kept lingering on you. Something in the vampire’s eyes had changed and it was beginning to startle you.

And well - usually by now he should have taken up the banter with you again. Could it be, he was actually worried? Like really, actually worried?

“Look”, you said and used some of the little power you had left in your body to push up to a position that was at least somewhat close to sitting up. Immediately you started to feel dizzy.

“I’m fine. Just a little tired, that’s all. We all are, aren’t we?”, you continued as you desperately tried to not let it be known how much your surroundings were spinning around you at the moment.

Quite obviously you were doing a terrible job at that because there was now open worry on Astarion’s face. Even the usual sharp edge of teasing in his voice had been dulled down by now: “And you want to take on Ketheric Thorm tomorrow? And all his thugs? Like this?”

You were definitely getting a little annoyed at him now. The others had gone dead silent. They must’ve been feeling too that this situation might be about to go sideways. You didn’t care.

And as much as you felt him tug on your heartstrings with the sad round puppy eyes he offered you now - did he have to make it so public? You were just not having it.

Using every last ounce of energy that you still had within you, you made to stand up. Astarion’s eyes widened some more and he cautiously stood up as well. His brows were furrowed now.

You gathered your legs beneath you with quite some effort. The world around you was really rushing past you now, but you were determined to bite through it. Then you pushed up to a standing position - straightening your back for extra effect and pointing a very passive-aggressive finger at your vampire.

“I’ll have you know tha-”, you began in a sassy tone.

But then no one would ever find out what you would have wanted to let them know. Because your vision blackened rapidly, closing in from the edges and you already felt the strange sensation of toppling over. Gravity inevitably pulling you back to the ground you had just stood up from.

The last thing you felt were arms that caught you under the armpits, with quite some effort. You heard strained groans and a hissed “idiot” very close to your ear. Then you passed out completely.

~~~

You woke up in dire confusion about where you were and how you’d gotten there. You lifted up your torso and blinked profusely to try and clear your vision. You also immediately reached for a dagger that would have usually been at your side. But you were also out of your armour it seemed. Oh, and laying on some pillows? A blanket draped over you?

You closed your eyes again and pressed the balls of your hands to your eyes. And you groaned as you felt a headache creep up on you now that you had woken up.

Since there seemed to be no imminent dangers around you sunk back onto the pillows. You realised that your shirt had been taken off as well. Pain thrummed through your skull.

Your hands dropped from your face, your vision cleared more and more and you realised that you were laying in someone else’s tent. And as you took a closer look at the ceiling of the tent, your brows furrowed. Because you very well knew which tent it was you were laying in. You’ve had your fair share of staring up at this very particular fabric from this very particular spot.

Your head popped up again from the pillows. And you found Astarion sitting at your feet, in his camp clothes. Legs stretched out, crossed at the ankles, arms folded over his chest and very much glowering at you. His red eyes were basically boring into you.

“Oh, are we awake again? Back from the land of the dead, hm? Rise and shine then, my love, since you seemed so eager to do so earlier!”, the vampire immediately went into a tirade.

“You’re not even going to give me a few more moments to just really wake up?”, you replied flatly. But you could already feel his words evoking shame within you. You rubbed one of your eyes once more, trying to look innocent.

The vampire kept fuming: “Were you planning on telling me how much the blood loss affected you again?”

“No.”

Astarion obviously could barely believe your audacity as well as your honesty by the way his eyes first widened and then narrowed even more at you. But he kept silent.

“Were you planning on stopping to take my offered blood?”, you posed in return when there was no further reaction coming from Astarion.

You regretted the words as soon as they had left your tongue. Knowing it was a cheap shot because this was still very much you insisting on being the one to take care of his needs. And also hiding the negative side effects.

You immediately felt the twinge of guilt as you saw how Astarion’s eyes couldn’t help but stray from yours as he registered your words. Your headache accordingly sent a bolt of pain through your skull, making you groan.

You closed your eyes in desperation for a second, trying to swallow down the thought that you had just put this guilt onto him. Blaming him for his basic needs of survival even if you hadn’t meant it like that at all.

As you compulsively tried to think of something to say, you heard the vampire speak again: “Well, as much as I enjoy you falling for me. Maybe you could try and… avoid it next time.”

Your throat closed up. Immediately, the double meaning very much wasn’t lost on you.

And not only did you instantly recognise the tone of him deflecting with something harsh and sarcastic but you could also almost see how his old and very much practised mask slipped back in its place.

You felt how the whole situation was slipping from your fingers. Desperate to do something about it, you got up from the still half-lying position you were in and crawled over to where the vampire was now looking at you with trained indifference.

Your chest ached, just having to look at it. Especially since you had only recently made such a leap with him finally allowing you in more. Astarion finally allowing for some of the carefully put up fortress walls to crumble under your soft touch.

Back, when his somewhat cautious confession had made you swear to yourself that you wouldn’t stop until all of the wretched, cascading layers of armour the vampire had put up around his core would have been disassembled.

Now you felt you might be responsible for some of those layers being put back into place. Even if it had just been a very short moment, a dumb slip of the tongue. You hoped it wasn’t too late yet to undo the damage.

You drew your arms around your lover - slowly, cautiously. Posing the question if you were still allowed to do that.

The vampire let it happen.

A tiny fraction of your tension eased at the thought that there might still be hope to rectify the delicate thing you had basically just stepped on. That he would allow you to make it right.

“I’m sorry, Astarion”, you whispered silently. Almost too quiet to form actual words. But the pale elf in your arms heard you anyway. He didn’t look up at you but he did sink into your arms a little more.

“I’m sorry for what I said and for how I acted. I didn’t mean to blame you for anything.”, you said again, this time more confidently.

There was no further acknowledgement of your apology other than the vampire slowly leaning his head against your naked chest. His soft hair brushed lightly over your bare skin. Even the lightest touches of him in your arms sent jolts through your entire body.

But the knot between you was not yet unravelled.

Fear threatened to close up your throat again as your mind raced, feverishly trying to think of a way to make him understand that it was just… he meant everything to you. That you’d rather crawl in the dirt yourself instead of having to watch him do it.

That you so desperately cared about him. Why couldn’t he see that?

And then another thought crossed your mind. Concerning the battle you would have to take on tomorrow.

What if this was the last chance you would ever get to convey this to him? The last shot at convincing him that he was very much loved and cared for and had a place in this world as long as you walked this planet.

Carefully you raised your hand to under Astarion’s chin and nudged softly to see if he would allow you to lift up his head to make him meet your gaze. Again, he let it happen.

The vampire’s eyes found yours. Instantly, something in his gaze changed as he must’ve seen something particular in them. You tenderly and cautiously cupped his cheek as your lips parted. But it still took another moment before you managed to find the words.

“Astarion, if tomorrow… would be the end. I-”, you broke off. Then took another breath before you continued.

“I would hate myself if this is how I left things. I wouldn’t want to have caused you to think that I was just brushing you off for caring for me. Or that I put any blame on you when I was being a reckless idiot. But I still would want you to understand that I just… I’m doing this because I want you to be safe and happy and careless and free and… with me, if you want that.”

Astarion’s eyes ever so slightly widened and opened up as you spoke. A nearly inaudible gasp left his throat.

After you had ended your little speech, the moment of the two of you looking into each other’s eyes just went on. But the mood had changed now. The way Astarion looked at you as you softly let your thumb wander over his cheekbone was no longer distant. He was still allowing you in, if cautiously so.

Your gaze dropped to his lips as your thumb kept wandering over the vampire’s delicate skin.

Then you leaned in just a little - letting him decide if he wanted to bridge the gap between you. And he did so without hesitation.

Astarion met your parted lips with his. You gladly accepted his open-mouthed kiss.

The rest of the words that yet remained unspoken between you were resolved this way. By kissing deeply and assuring the other of what you could not yet put into words.

The vampire’s hand grabbed onto your upper arm, fingertips lightly grazing your biceps. You let your hand wander from his cheek into his soft white curls, your fingertips softly tugging and teasing them.

And you were still doing that when you slowly withdrew from him - if only enough to speak.

“I was a dick, Astarion, I’m sorry.”

“Yes, you were. Now, I thought we had just established that. Don’t try and draw it out to make me sappy, Staeve darling, or I might actually take back what I said the other night”, Astarion replied with an edge of sarcasm entering his voice again.

But you knew that it was the good-humoured kind once more. The one he used when you two bickered like an old married couple.

“Don’t promise what you can’t keep”, you offered back with a smug grin. The vampire rolled his eyes at you. Your grin just grew.

“Come, just lie down with me, please”, you proposed to your vampire. Now that adrenaline and stress were slowly leaving your body you felt exhaustion creep up on you again. The headache you had completely forgotten to acknowledge somewhere in between also letting itself be known again.

Astarion immediately took you up on it and you laid down on the bedroll, snuggling up to each other until your limbs were fully tangled, bodies fully wrapped around each other. You gazed upon the vampire in your arms - how much his pale skin contrasted against yours.

You slowly felt how the tension left both your bodies, shoulders dropping, jaws unclenching. Revelling in relief and joy you closed your eyes and focused solely on how it felt to hold Astarion. Just silently laying there, enjoying this moment of peace.

Until you broke the silence once more because a random thought had just crossed your mind.

“Wait, who actually carried me all the way back to camp?”

Astarion scrambled to push himself up once more and gave you a glare. “Really? That’s what’s on your mind right now?”

You shrugged: “I guess.”

The vampire’s glare became even more intense. Then it snapped to mischievous glint really quickly. He let one of his hands drag through his hair dramatically and sensually and said: “Oh, darling, couldn’t you believe that I valiantly carried you here like the knight in shiny armour that I am?” You wouldn’t even have believed him being able to pull you here with your face dragging through the dirt.

“It was Halsin, wasn’t it?”

You received another death glare. Then Astarion just sighed in defeat and wrapped himself in your arms again.

“Yes it was. I was the one who undressed you though.”

“Of course you were”, you replied with a wolfish grin although Astarion couldn’t see it. The vampire groaned in annoyance

“Now, if you please, let me enjoy this moment in peace, you idiot.”

And so you did. Holding onto Astarion as he held onto you. Both silently smiling and not even that afraid anymore of what tomorrow might bring.

Tag list: @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess

#astarion #astarion x tav #baldurs gate #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x oc #astarion x you #fanfic #fanfiction #astarion ancunin #bg3 spoilers #bg3 #bg3 companions #staeve #astarion x staeve

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tasteracha · 9 months

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a/n: my brain’s supply of what this 2min nonsense was about. why did they smile at each other like that. about a sports drink. thank you to my lils @gimmeurtmi for proof reading this ily

warnings: piss kink (apologizes in advance), soft dom!minho, poly relationship 2min x reader, smut - minors dni

it starts like this:

you were sick a week ago, bedridden and weak-limbed for days and you would have been absolutely miserable if you didn’t have two lovely partners waiting on your every need. streaming hot soup brought straight to your bed, sweat-soaked sheets changed by one of them while the other helped you shower, endless supplies of water and juices and various drinks kept in a steady supply on your bedside table.

including those goddamn sports drinks. the ones that they still shove down your throat because what if you’re still dehydrated baby? can’t have you passing out can we? doesn’t matter to them that you haven’t been sick for a few days now.

you’re tired of the sticky sweet, slightly salty flavor of them. your eyes burn when they land on the colorful label, the smell of it makes you want to throw the bottle out of your high story apartment window. you’re surprised that your piss isn’t pure sports drink at this point.

still, you drink them. the smile on their faces when you hand them the empty bottle is enough to keep you doing it. the way they take care of you, the way it makes them happy to see you comfortable? you wouldn’t trade that for the world.

you’re on your third bottle when minho plops onto the couch next to you, immediately latching onto your side and pulling seungmin down into your lap from where he was sitting on your other side. his head lands on your lower belly and he gasps in surprise, squirming as he gets comfortable. his weight presses against your bladder, full of almost three sports drinks now, and it sends a ting up to your head.

“wait, babe,” you wriggle, trying to dislodge your arm from minho’s grip. “i have to go, give me a minute.”

“no,” minho and seungmin whine together, sharing a grin before settling deeper into you.

“c’mon,” you whine back, tugging again at your arm in vain. “let me gooo.”

“you can wait,” minho throws a leg over yours, thigh almost hitting seungmin’s face as he all but traps you into the cushions. seungmin raises a lazy hand and rubs at the bare skin of minho’s thigh from where his shorts had ridden up. you feel minho shudder a bit against you before relaxing, melting completely into you.

you sigh and accept it. it’s so rare that the three of you get to sit in once space together and relax; with their album having released recently, they’re always running around on different schedules, performing on various stages and going through interview after interview and even when they come home together they’re so tired that they almost collapse on their feet at the door. when they’re not doing things together they’re off on separate ventures, meetings with choreographers or their producers to write songs or whatever their next project is for that week.

so with the two of you wrapped around you like this, it does seem a bit silly to dislodge them just to use the bathroom.

the two of them gently bicker over what to watch, seungmin arguing that you and him were in the middle of a movie before minho came in and minho firing back that he didn’t know what happened during the first half so wouldn’t it be fair to change it to something all three of you could enjoy?

throughout their argument, minho wordlessly hands the sports drink you had left on the coffee table to you, metal straw poised near your mouth. seungmin scratches a bit at his thigh when you take it from him reflexively, just how minho likes it, all while they continue talking at each other. you might not have noticed their behavior if the mere sight of the drink sends a warning signal from your bladder to your brain.

what are they doing.

minho glances pointedly at your hand, eyes flickering to your mouth and back, and he smiles in satisfaction when you raise it to your lips and take a tentative sip. you take another when you notice your throat did feel a bit dry, thirst battling with your need to pee in an utterly confusing way. you hope they don’t notice when you squeeze your legs together just a bit, holding off the need to pee in a temporary relief.

minho meets seungmin’s eyes and the younger tips the drink back towards your mouth from where you had let it lower to your lap.

“what?” you ask, a little breathless. “i’m not really that thirsty, love. i’ll drink it later.”

seungmin shrugs, turning his attention back to the tv. minho sends a glare to him, but it quickly morphs into a smirk when seungmin puts on the anime the three of you love and have seen four times through, exiting out of the movie.

you’re still confused, but you let yourself melt back into the cushions and focus on the screen. whatever they were up to, you wouldn’t find out until they wanted you to. you’ve learned that lesson time and time again, and it’s taught you to just let things happen instead of wracking your head over it. the two boys were utterly unpredictable on their own but together? you didn’t stand a chance.

“let’s take a shower,” seungmin suggests, breaking the comfortable silence the three of you had maintained for a while. a shower sounded nice, especially with the two of them - they always paid you the most attention, lathering you up so gently and rinsing your hair until you were practically purring in their arms. but. if you got up right now, you weren’t sure that you could hold your bladder in.

you look down at the drink in your hand, intending to hand it over to minho to put away, but it’s finished. you don’t remember drinking any more of it, but you must have done it subconsciously when your attention was on the tv. you didn’t even realize that four episodes had passed already.

the reminder of the sheer amount of liquid in your body makes your lower belly ache, and you’re this close to telling seungmin to go on without you. however, the toilet was in the same room as the shower - and now that your bladder is in the forefront of your mind, that was where you needed to go as soon as physically possible.

“go ahead and get the water going, seungminnie,” minho says, voice soft and eyes fond. “we’ll be right there.”

seungmin moves off of your lap, disappearing in a flurry and while you thought the removal of his weight might have helped, it actually did the opposite. it was as if he was stopping you from feeling the full force of your aching bladder, absorbing the feeling into himself somehow, and as soon as he was gone it took over your entire body so intensely that you had to hunch over.

“let’s go, baby,” minho all but coos at you, standing up but not letting go of your arm. he helps you up, letting you lean against him as the two of you shuffle over to the bathroom in agonizingly slow steps.

“just give me one second,” you squeeze minho’s hand after he leads you through the double doors, stepping towards the toilet. you’ve been together long enough that peeing in front of them doesn’t phase any one of you, and even if it did you’re too desperate to care right now.

“not so fast,” minho tugs on your hand and you stumble into him, the movement making you clench so that you don’t pee all over the floor.

“min, c’mon,” you plead, voice coming out in a whine. “let me go, or i’m going to make a mess and you’re going to have to clean it up.”

“shower first,” he says, his tone making it clear that you didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. “you can do it, hmm? you can hold it for us, our good girl.”

his words send another pang throughout your body, this time through your pussy as it all falls into place. you can feel your heartbeat throughout your entire body and your knees feel weak; if he wasn’t holding you up they might have given out there and then.

“i-i can’t,” you bite out, trying and failing to stand your ground.

“you can,” minho says, firm and unmovable. you let him peel off your clothes, your entire body shaking and fever-hot all over. he sheds his own quickly, pushing you into the large shower and into seungmin’s arms. you’re glad for him, because otherwise you might have fallen straight to the tiles under the spray in a sad heap. minho slides up behind you and wraps his arms around your midsection, squeezing in a way that makes you gasp.

the water dripping down your frames and swirling down the drain is transfixing, and you were so close to letting go if the embarrassment of pissing yourself didn’t stop you. you can’t look away from the drain, from the clear water that makes you wonder what it would look like if it was tinged yellow.

“hyung?” seungmin asks, breaking your trance, his eyes shining at minho as he looks at him for guidance.

“take care of our girl,” minho nods, keeping you still when seungmin moves away. you expect him to reach for the loofah hanging by the shower head, or the bar of soap sitting in the caddy, but instead he sinks to his knees in front of you. he looks up at you with reverence, the shower spray hitting his back and the overhead light shining down on him making him look like some kind of angel.

or a devil, your mind tells you as he leans forward to press light kisses to your thighs. minho wedges a leg in between yours, nudging your knees apart so seungmin has access to your throbbing pussy. he makes a delighted noise and dives in, tongue flicking at your folds as his hands keep your thighs apart.

“fuck, seung,” you moan, muscles tightened as you try not to release onto his face. “i can’t hold it.”

neither of them pay you any mind; minho’s hands massage at your lower belly as seungmin laps at you like you’re his last meal, his tongue dipping inside of you and reaching points he never has before.

“p-please,” you gasp, not knowing what you were even asking for. for minho to let up on the pressure around your middle, for seungmin to move his face away from your pussy, for him to go harder and never stop.

“do you need to go, honey?” minho says, voice right in your ear. it sends a lick of flames up your spine, and seungmin hums into you when you let out a list of syllables that you hope mean god, yes, please let me. “then come for us, and i promise you can go after.”

it’s like his words flip a switch inside of you, because immediately after he orders it you’re coming. your hips jerk against seungmin’s mouth, his nose rubbing against your clit as the fire climbs downwards and explodes into embers that take over your entire body.

when the last of the shocks fade away, the pang of desperation from your bladder comes back in full force. your knees shake, you can feel your entire body trembling in an attempt to not piss all over your boyfriend who is still kneeling between your legs.

“baby, come up here,” minho calls to seungmin, pulling him away from where he had begun sucking at your inner thigh. he rises to his knees in an unfairly graceful way and presses his body up against your front so you’re sandwiched between them. the gentle pressure of his hips pushing against minho’s hands makes you double over, your face squishing against seungmin’s chest as you finally lose control over yourself.

you can feel the warm stream sliding down your legs, the sound of it mixing with the shower spray and creating some kind of weird harmony. you let out a sob, half from the utter relief you feel at letting go and half at the embarrassment of pissing yourself like this, even if they made you do it. you close your eyes and throw your head back against minho’s collarbone, mouth hanging open from how overwhelmed you feel.

“i’m sorry,” you choke out, chest heaving in with your breaths and shuddering out. the flow finally tapers off, the last bits of release tricking down and swirling down the drain. “fuck, i’m sorry.”

“it’s okay, love,” seungmin shushes you, sliding a hand up your waist as minho presses wet kisses to the back of your head. “that was so fucking hot, you don’t even know.”

you watch with tired eyes as minho’s hand creeps around you to circle around seungmin’s dick, hard and upright, and seungmin sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth. his own hand snakes behind you, to minho’s cock, and they jerk each other off with you between them, pliant and jelly limped as you lean against them. they come together, both of their heads buried into your neck and their combined come spurting out onto your legs and sliding down like your piss had earlier.

the three of you stand there for several moments, catching your breath and regaining the feeling in your legs. seungmin does actually reach for the loofah then, lathering it up with minho’s expensive soaps and spending extra time scrubbing at your legs. you float in a dazed mess as they rinse you off, wrapping you in a fluffy towel and then guiding your limbs into satin pajamas.

“thirsty?” seungmin asks after he deposits you into the covers of your shared california king bed, and your parched throat aches to say yes. you almost do, but when you turn your head to look at what’s in his outstretched hand it’s -

a bottle of the god damn sports drink.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids drabbles #lee know smut #lee minho smut #seungmin imagines #seungmin smut #2min smut #skz 2min #lee know imagines

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quinton-reviews · 3 months

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Hi Quinton!! I have been a HUGE fan of your stuff since a friend sent me the Tobuscus Fallen Titans (I used to watch him back in high school and was like "huh, wonder what happened to him after those allegations") and I gotta say, it is REALLY FUNNY every time my fiancé and I watch the iCarly videos again, because when you cover Gibby's stunt double breaking his ribs, you cut to a clip of The Official Podcast. I used to play D&D with one of the main dudes from the podcast, so when he talks during that clip I do a goddamn double take literally every time.

Anyways, I remember an original Patreon stretch goal being a Fallen Titans on Homestuck! I was really big into Homestuck in my early 20s, and was wondering if that's still on the table at some point? If not that's fine, I understand plans change! I just love Fallen Titans lol, the Fred episode and the Neil Cicierega unFallen Titans are some of my favorite videos of yours!

That's a real funny story!

So here's the rundown on the Homestuck video. When I first started making long videos, they were actually inspired by the relationship I had with other YouTubers at the time. I used to watch, like, H3H3 and Filthy Frank, etc; and I'd always see people obsessed with the versions of creators from the past. Like, "Oh 2015 H3 was the best" and "Oh 2012 Frank was peak." So I had this idea that it would be crazy if H3 posted, like, a video he spent a decade on and you got a new video with 2015 H3 10 years on. (I don't watch H3 anymore ironically)

So the original idea for the "long video" format was that it would be cool if, throughout a long, analysis/review/recap video, you kept noticing someone get older. Maybe my months, maybe by years. That's why I always like to get a haircut when I start one of these videos. If you scrub through and you see my hair get longer and messier as it goes on I think that adds something magical you can't fake.

So... My pitch to the Homestuck video was that it would be funny to work on it just once per year. To record one segment, say "That's it for 12 months", and then come back around to it. And when I was making the iCarly and Victorious videos I actually recorded a few minutes of the video! I think it was two segments in total. But then I had a bunch of personal stuff happen and my work drive has been much lower, so any "back burner" video hasn't gotten much attention since then.

Now that the iCarly mini-series is done with, I want to focus on some short one-off videos I can make before April. But once that's done with, I would REALLY love to start work on a few more long-term projects which will take months or years to finish. I think returning to work on the Homestuck video, to at least get the first 20-30 minutes done, would be a great idea this summer.

Now, if you want to know my pitch for that video, here it is. The video is not a recap of the creative history of the franchise. I do not get into drama, community hell, lawsuits, or other YouTubers. My idea is this: you always hear about Homestuck as an outsider but you never hear about the actual content. Most franchises on Earth I know something about, even and especially if I've never been interested in them. I can tell you a bunch of facts about wrestling and MLP and the Fast and the Furious simply through cultural osmosis and having friends who are into those things.

I can't tell you the plot of Homestuck, who the characters are, what the themes are, nothing. I've known a lot of people who were into Homestuck but nothing about the series!

So I thought it would thus be funny to make a video about a bunch of people who know nothing about the series starting from the beginning and giving their reactions, even if it's been years since it all started. I call this part of the video the "Homestuck Book Club." So the next step is me picking out the members (who all have to have no history with it) and making sort of a podcast setup. We'd then read and record every six months or so, IDK.

This is why the video has been stuck in production hell! Everyone who wants to work on it and messages me about it already knows the franchise. I don't want spoilers, I don't want people writing for the video who get it already. I want to capture the "what the fuck is this" energy of three dudes just getting in the middle of it.

Also, I think that I really like the theme of the video capturing our lives as they go by, capturing us aging and changing. If you came back from the future and told me this video comes out in five years, I'd say great. If you told me it comes out in ten years, I'd say awesome. Until then, the latest edit will always be on Patreon, even if you have to dig a little.

#homestuck #quinton reviews #long videos

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threestarsinline · 1 month

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Children's Books and Leather Jackets (Part II)

Jason Todd x reader one-shot

Summary: You couldn't love your job more. Or at least, that's what you thought, until Jason Todd started coming into the bookshop every week without fail, like clockwork. And then you form a connection that tilts your whole world on its axis.

Word Count: 15.5K (total of 29.2K)

Category: More fluff for you all (yes, more jsjs), (plus slight angst related to mutual pining, idiots in love, friends to lovers and typical Gotham villain stuff)

Warnings: Jason stealing your heart (and you stealing his)

Author’s note: Well, here you go babes, the second (and final) part to what once was just a one-shot but that became so long that I had to split it up (despite how much it broke my heart to do so). Hope you enjoy it!

<Part I

After that night at the dinner (that you didn’t ever want to end, though of course, sadly, it had to), everything stayed more or less the same. Jason kept coming into the bookshop several times a week, buying books and checking out some others.

Except that now, while you scanned the children’s books, as you knew what they were for now, you asked how the kids were doing.

Except that now, a lot of times when he came in the afternoons, Jason stayed in the bookshop with you until you closed, keeping you company.

Except that now, sometimes Jason brought food with him and had lunch with you.

Except that now, you texted each other practically everyday, carrying on conversations from the bookshop and talking about everything.

Except that now, your heart, instead of giving little jumps, it run whole laps every time you saw him.

And right now, you’re buzzing with nerves.

Because you don’t know where the line stands anymore, having become blurrier and blurrier with each smile, every longing look and every soft touch on his arm or the small of your back when you pass each other a lot closer than what is necessary.

And now you’re bouncing behind the counter, wondering if what you are about to do today is too much.

When that white streak that you love so much makes its way through the door, you can hardly wait to show him what you’ve found. Jason, like always, greets you with a smile and goes directly to the counter, not bothering with excuses anymore.

“There you are!” You exclaim, barely containing your excitement.

“Hi to you too.” He chuckles at your warm welcome as he finishes approaching the counter.

“I found it.” You say with a grin. Surprise makes its way across Jason’s features, immediately knowing what you were talking about.

“You did?” He asks in disbelief. You nod proudly and from under the counter, you slip out the third and last installment of a book series about the adventures of Daisy the giraffe. In the store you only had the first and the second one and the kids loved them. They had read both several times but were unable to see how the story ended since the books were quite old and very hard to find.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe it.” Jason continues as he takes the book from your hands that are extending it to him. “You’re amazing, Y/N.” He looks back up at you with shining eyes. “How did you do it?” You shrug your shoulders.

“I just tracked it down.” You answer. The truth was that it had taken a lot of time and effort to find it but the kids’ joy and how happy you felt right now made it all worth it.

“You did a lot more than that, believe me. The kids are going to love it.” Jason says, glancing back at the book and then at you once again, his eyes full of admiration. “Thank you.” He adds almost breathlessly.

You nod in acknowledgement with a bright smile.

Jason had faced a lot of impossible situations during his life. Hardships that proved difficult to endure. From his days in the streets, to his Robin training and to his patrols as Red Hood.

But right now Jason feared that he may have found his greatest enemy. A problem hard to solve. A feat that will not be easy to achieve.

These damn braids.

Jason’s eyebrows are furrowed and he clenches his jaw in concentration. Despite having asked for help and Cass and Steph having taught him, he still was having trouble french braiding Lily’s hair.

He was in the area and decided to check on the kids, even though they didn't have a reading scheduled. After greeting the few that were there, Lily grabbed his hand and monopolized him.

She had asked him a few times to do her hair and he had tried but without much knowledge it had proved to be a disaster. At least now, even though it still felt a bit like an uphill climb, it seemed that his new skills were getting him somewhere.

They were sitting on some crates on the floor, Lily in front of him playing with her teddy and telling him his latest adventures as Batbear, making him chuckle at her great imagination.

He was working on the second braid when suddenly Lily fell into silence, deep in thought. He was about to ask her what was wrong when she finally spoke up.

“Do you like Y/N?” Lily asked, with the blunt curiosity characteristic of children her age.

Jason’s hands freeze on her blonde hair.

“Why do you ask?” Jason asks back nervously, afraid to give a clear response, as if after hearing it, Lily would run over to wherever you were to tell you. But she just shrugs her shoulders, lifting Batbear in her arms and examining his button-like eyes.

“She’s nice and funny.”

“Yeah, she is.” He coincides while slowly continuing to work on the braid.

“I like her. The other day she brought us all cookies from a bakery. They were delicious.” Lily continues, her voice acquiring a dreamy tone at the delightful memory.

Jason’s hands freeze once again. He had no idea you had done that. You hadn’t mentioned it to him. You had gone out of your way to buy treats for the kids and come here on your own on a non reading day.

Jason stands still on his seat, his gaze lost and thoughts clouded with you. He didn’t think that he could admire you more than what he already did, yet here he was, even more entranced by your kind nature.

“So you like her then?” Lily insists. She says it more in an innocent way rather than in the romantic sense, like when you meet a friend of a friend and they asked you if you liked hanging out with them. Just as Lily finishes her question, he ties up her braid and Lily turns her head, feeling him finish his work.

She catches sight of her reflection on a dirty window and lets out a delightful squeal that makes Jason jump in surprise. In an instant, the little girl is on her feet and admiring her hair from side to side, Batbear still in her grip.

Jason grimaces when he sees how the top of one of the braids is already starting to loosen and worries about what Lily will say. He still clearly needs more practice. But then-

“I love it!” Lily screams and Jason grins at her happiness. Ha, success. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” She says in quick succession in a way in which the words jumble together and turns to give him a bone crushing hug, surprising for how little she is, and a sounding kiss on his cheek.

Then Lily sets off running, probably to show her friends her new hair, laughing all the way, completely forgetting about her earlier question. Jason can’t help but laugh under his breath too. He loves those kids.

He stands up and shakes his hands over his jeans to get rid of any possible dirt from the crate.

“Yeah, I like her very much.” Jason whispers, answering Lily’s question. His thoughts, as they usually tended to do, drifting back to you.

“Oh my god, what happened to you?” You ask him another day when he enters the bookshop with a black eye. He opens his mouth to answer but you interrupt him. “Let me guess, boxing again?” You say with eyebrows raised in a playful manner so that he doesn’t need to worry about a fake excuse. But he chuckles and shakes his head.

“Not this time, no.”

“No? Impossible.”

“Okay so, turns out that Damian, for whatever reason that I still cannot comprehend, threw his phone at Tim. But Tim ducked and guess who was passing behind him in that exact moment just peacefully enjoying his bowl of cereal?”

“No way.” You say breathlessly, a smile already pulling at your lips and a laugh making its way up your throat.

He nods and sees you put a hand over your mouth, trying to conceal your laughter. The sight makes him smile, despite the fact that the movement pulls at the swelling of his cheek under his eye, making him wince slightly at the pain.

“Sorry.” You say, failing miserably in containing your laughter.

“It’s okay, go ahead. It is funny.”

You then finally burst out laughing and Jason feels his heart swell, the sound having become his favorite in the whole world, like listening to his favorite song. And he can’t help but join in your laughter too.

“Though I did drop my precious bowl of cereal.” He adds with an exaggerated pout and you laugh even more, making him feel a radiating warmth that not even the sun could equal to.

“Oh, poor Jason.” You say.

As your laughters finally slowly die down, you round the counter and lift your hands to hold the sides of his face, turning him to see the eye better in the light.

“Are you okay though?” You ask in a low voice, serious now, almost like a whisper.

And with your hands holding him, Jason thinks that he will always be okay, no matter if he's drowning or bleeding to death.

“Yeah.” He whispers back.

Were you this close just a second before? He can clearly see how the lights of the bookshop reflect in your eyes now.

“Did you put something over it?” He nods. You tilt your head, not sure to believe him with how he hadn’t really treated the wounds on his knuckles that one time.

“Some ice.” You manage to coax out of him and you shake your head and click your tongue in slight disappointment.

“Not enough.” You say, and just like that one time, with the bookshop empty except for you two, you guide him into the break room by his hand, sit him down and bring the first aid kit. You take an ointment from it and stand in front of him. You look down at him, asking for permission with your eyes and he gives an almost imperceptible nod.

One of your hands takes hold of his face to tilt him to the light and the tips of your fingers on the other start applying the ointment softly to help with the swelling.

Jason’s hands twitch to place themselves on your hips to bring you even closer but he grabs his own knees instead. He doesn’t have the right to do something like that. It’s not like he’s your boyfriend.

No matter how much he might want to.

So he contents himself with looking into your eyes that are concentrated on his wound.

He can feel the warmth of your body seeping into his with how close you are and he can’t help but close his eyes to savor it even further.

He has never felt safer.

The silence of the intimate moment is deafening in the best of ways. He would gladly stay like this forever.

But then, just like a crack of thunder, cold surrounds him once again as you whisper that you’re done and retract your hands from him. You wash your hands in the faucet of the kitchen part of the break room and Jason follows your every movement hypnotized.

“Better?” You say as you return and sit in front of him.

With you? Always.

“Yeah.” He breathes out and he isn’t lying. He can already feel the swelling going down. “Thank you.”

“It’s nothing.” You say, shaking your head and shrugging your shoulders.

It’s like you don’t see how much you do for him, and not just for tending his wounds. Just everything in general. Your laugh. Your long conversations. And it kills him. It kills him that you may not know just how much he cares about you.

And it kills him even more that he doesn’t have the courage to tell you.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” You say and quickly get up to grab a heavy looking bag from the corner before coming back. “I went to my parents’ last weekend and I got these books that I thought the kids might like.” You start as you take the contents of the bag out and put them on the table for him to see.

He notices how you worry your lip and how your shoulders tense and he wonders why you’re suddenly like that. He then looks towards the several books displayed on the table in front of you two.

“Most of them are bedtime stories. My mom used to read them to me.” You start and then your small posture and uncertain tone clicks. You’re shy about this. Almost ashamed that he might think that this is something ridiculous.

As if he could think anything negative about you.

“They’re not much but I loved them when I was little.” You continue and as you tell him more about them, he can see with how much fondness you remember them and how excited you are to talk about them. The insecurity seems to leave your whole body as you get lost in your explanation of the books.

Two of them are quite thick and you tell him that they have several different stories, from a prince and a princess that could only meet at sunrise or sunset since one of them could only be in the light of the moon and the other in the light of the sun. And that if they were exposed to the other light, due to a spell, they would die; to a story about a mother reading to his son.

Another couple of them follow the adventures of a mole at his house and at the beach and the books include a small mole cut-out that you move across the pages to make him follow the story. Another one is about a boy and his dog that go on a great adventure thanks to a magical blue balloon.

As he listens intently, he marvels at you. You really were the most thoughtful, kind and beautiful person that he had ever met and he couldn’t get enough of it.

He has to resist the urge to close the space between you and kiss you right there and then. But he decides against it. He liked how everything was going with you and he didn’t want to ruin it by suddenly rushing and risking everything.

Aside from the fact that you still didn’t know about a part of his life that he’s sure would make you push him away and send you running. Even though every time that he thinks about it, he’s considering telling you more and more, wanting to be completely sincere and honest with you, knowing how much you valued that.

“Sorry, that was a lot. This probably was a bad idea.” You say after you finish explaining all the books. You’re about to start picking them up to put them back in the bag when you feel his hand enclosing over one of your own, softly stopping you.

Your breath catches in your throat.

“No. These are great, Y/N. I love them and I’m sure that the kids will too. Thank you for sharing them.” He says looking into your eyes. You were sharing with him and the kids a very personal part of you that you held very close to your heart. And he wanted you to know how much he appreciated it.

He also gives your hand a small squeeze to show you how much he means his words and to encourage you. After a moment, you smile and nod.

“Tell me more.” He says.

At his genuine petition, you can’t do anything but carry on, your radiant smile matching his. “Okay.”

It had been a long time since you had played any of these types of games. But you really do not remember being so bad at it.

After the reading that day, the kids had suggested (or rather insisted) on playing hide and seek.

So here you were, running around the playground trying to find a good place to hide all while questioning your life choices.

Had you really been this bad at hide and seek as a kid? Then again, it is quite easier when you’re much smaller and you can fit almost anywhere. Try doing that as an adult.

You turn a corner of the nearby buildings, entering into a small passage between the back of it and a wall separating the playground zone from the rest of the block. You know that Lily has had to have finished counting already. You don’t have much time left.

In the passage there are some piled up crates leaning against the wall. You consider hiding behind them though you know that it’s not the best hiding place. However, you’re already here and you can’t risk going back into the open space of the playground if you don’t want to get caught.

Just as you start moving towards them a voice whispers your name.

You turn and find that the building has a small space that cuts into it with a back door. Due to the afternoon light, the space is covered in shadows and leaning against the wall you find Jason, hiding.

You can’t believe that you missed him with his impressive build.

But the place seems to work as a great hiding place, almost in plain sight yet easy to miss. So, when Jason extends a hand inviting you into it, you don’t think twice before taking it.

Next thing you know, your back rests in one of the walls carved into the building that lead to the door and Jason is positioned in front of you in a way that, even if Lily were to pass by and notice you, she would only see him. At least at first.

Jason leans his head out of the space for a second to check if anyone is coming and then he comes back in front of you.

And then your breathing hitches in your throat when you realize just how close you are, even though there is plenty of space in the small opening of the building for you two to stand next to each other without problem. Yet both of you remain in your current position, not daring (nor wanting) to move a muscle.

Suddenly all your nerves are alive and buzzing, your senses heightened and all you can see, hear and feel, is him.

You're hyper aware of everywhere that he’s touching you.

His left hand on your waist.

His right arm at your side, brushing up against yours, shielding you from view.

Your chests almost touching each other.

Your hands on his shoulders, even though you have no idea how they ended up there. The urge to bring him even closer to you, practically irresistible.

You look up to find that his green gaze is already on you. Up this close you notice that there is a slight shade of aquamarine blue in them.

You feel lightheaded and dizzy but in the best of ways. It’s like you’re drunk, even though you have never actually drunk enough to feel like this.

You realize then that you’re drunk on him. You want to drown in him.

Then the scent of his cologne reaches you and you know that you’re intoxicated with this man in front of you.

And the best part is that he seems just as intoxicated with you.

You don’t know how you two get even closer but then his nose is brushing up against yours, your breaths mixing together.

He’s leaning a bit over you so maybe you should feel a bit crowded but you don’t.

You feel safe.

The safest that you have ever been. And the thing is that it doesn't even surprise you. Everything feels easy and safe and warm with him.

Like nothing could ever happen to you with him by your side.

And you’re absolutely addicted to the feeling.

Jason is breathless, as if he has just run a marathon. His breathing as heavy as yours.

Your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest with how fast it’s going, thrill and anticipation pumping through your veins instead of blood.

Your gaze drops and you suck in a breath when he wets his lips.

Your own tongue darts out to mimic his movement on your own, when you realize that they’re already wet and that he was the one mirroring your previous action.

Your eyes go back up to his and notice that his pupils are dilated. You can’t help but think that yours look probably the same.

It seems like he’s asking a question with that mesmerizing gaze of his and your throat feels dry, as if you haven’t been able to drink water in days and the only person that can alleviate it is Jason Todd.

His gaze flits to your lips once again and returns to your eyes just as fast and they seem to be pleading you.

You can feel yourself nodding almost imperceptibly.

You’re not sure you have wanted anything more in your life. Your stomach flips.

You close your eyes, feeling the ghost of his lips on yours.

And then-

“Got you!” Lily’s voice rings out, like shattering glass, breaking the spell and bursting the perfect bubble that you two were in, before your lips are able to make any real contact.

And just like that, you deflate like an old balloon forgotten by a kid in a fair.

You have never been more frustrated in your entire life.

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to regain your senses, letting your pounding heart beat out the drug that the proximity to Jason Todd is, in order to come back to reality.

When you finally open your eyes, Jason looks just as frustrated and disappointed as you.

Your faces part, putting distance once again between them though your hands remain on his shoulders and his remain on your waist. Part of yourselves still refusing to let go of what had been about to happen, both of your breathings still heavy and deep.

“Come on, it’s your turn now!” Lily exclaims impatiently. She’s too excited about being able to hide now to really notice what was going on between you two.

“We-” Jason stops at how hoarse his voice is and clears his throat. “We’ll be right there.” He finally continues, though his gaze is still fixed on you.

“Great!” Lily chirps and she leaves the way she came, Batbear like always, tight in her grip.

You watch her go and when you look back up at Jason both of you have shy and embarrassed smiles. Sad for the moment that has left and unsure of how to proceed now.

You both suppose that keeping things how they are is the best course of action so very slowly and very reluctantly your hands leave each other. Not sure what to do with them now, since they still feel like magnets being pulled towards each other, Jason runs his hands through his hair and you fix your already perfectly placed clothes.

But as you two make your way towards the center of the playground, you both are hopeful that the moment will come again.

The road might have a few bumps on the way but it still goes on.

Jason didn’t know how it had gotten so late. He had meant to stop by the bookshop earlier and hopefully, after you closed, go grab dinner with you, as you two sometimes did now. But he had got caught up with patrol stuff with Bruce and now he would be lucky if he managed to catch you before you left.

Thankfully, he’s able to reach the bookshop twenty minutes before you close. But when he enters, you are nowhere to be seen.

Rose and Jimmy are behind the counter, chattering between them and just like every time that he went into the bookshop and you weren’t there, he felt his whole body deflate. The idea of seeing you always being his driving force.

But just like that other time when he entered knowing that you worked that day but Rose had greeted him, worry begins to settle in him. Had something happened that had made you change your shift? Were you sick?

“Hello, Jason!” Jimmy says when he and Rose notice him.

“Good evening, dear.” Greets Rose.

“Hello. Sorry, didn’t mean to bother, I know you’re about to close.”

“It’s okay, you’re always welcomed.” Jimmy answers.

“It’ll be quick. I just wanted to see if Y/N was here, I-”

“Does this look right, Rose? I feel like-” You say, emerging from the bathroom but then you freeze in your step when you spot him. “Oh, hi, Jason.”

But Jason is unable to answer, in fact, he’s pretty sure that he has forgotten how to breathe because he’s stunned looking at you.

You’re wearing a very nice dress that you must have changed into in the bathroom, and it’s clear that you’ve dressed up for something.

You look beautiful.

You always do but Jason has never seen you so formal and it stirs up something in him. For a second, he can imagine that he’s come to pick you up for a date.

But the joy of seeing you doesn’t last long as he feels his throat dry and he swears that he can feel sweat begin to form at the back of his neck and run down his back. It takes him a second to understand those symptoms and the unsettling feeling in his stomach.

Dread. Panic.

Because what if you actually do have a date?

Had he waited too long? Neither of you were any experts on relationships but it really felt like you two were working towards something. But what if it was too late now? What if he had let time drag on too much and now he was forever stuck in some kind of friend stage? Just like when he didn’t tell you about why he checked out so many children’s books and then it had passed so much time that it became awkward for him to do so.

His mind is in a spiral now, racing with thoughts. In one of your many conversations and hangouts after the very first reading with the kids and the diner, you both had mentioned that neither of you were seeing anybody. It was an off comment, something that you tell a friend without thinking too much about the implications of it.

But the idea hung in the air. The idea that the persons that you two were seeing were each other.

But still, neither of you had said that out loud.

And the thing was that you two weren’t just friends. Or at least that’s what Jason felt like and he thought that you probably thought the same. You two had a connection there and you were heading towards being something else. Slowly but steadily and surely, you were building something.

Right?

Suddenly, he finds himself revisiting every interaction that the two of you have ever had. Every longing look, every soft touch and that oh so wonderful moment while playing hide and seek where you two had almost kissed.

He couldn’t have possibly imagined all of that on his own, could he?

If he thought that the memory of holding your hand while he helped you down the ladder that one time had been haunting, it was nothing compared to that moment.

That moment that had plagued his mind every damn day since.

Everything about it, how you had looked at him, the smell of your hair, your hands on his shoulders, your slightly parted lips, added to everything about you from the very first time he met you, like your smile or the soft tone of your voice, creeping onto his skin and taking a resident place there. Like ivy, carving marks into him, down his arms and up his back, clasping and biting into him, leaving him red and scarred forever.

The difference of those imprints with the scars that he had gained over the years of crime-fighting and suffering was that they didn’t hurt nor weighed him down. Instead, they lifted him up, invigorated him and softly caressed his skin, like your hands taking care of his wounds, reassuring him that everything would be okay. That with you, everything will always be okay. They showed how much someone cared about him and valued him.

The difference being that he would wear your marks proudly.

And Jason finally decides that he doesn’t want to walk on the tightrope anymore. He wants to let go and fall into the void, take a leap of faith and come clean to you. Tell you that he’s in love with you and that he wants to be yours.

He can only hope that you may lay a safety net beneath him to fall into.

And if he’s not that lucky, he would have another invisible scar added to him, from both crashing into the ground and from having at least tried. And even though that one would hurt, more deeply and a lot longer than any physical one that he may have, you would have given it to him, and he would welcome anything that came from you with open arms.

He doesn’t know how he’s going to do all of that but what he does know is that before anything, he wants to be honest with you. Tell you about being Red Hood. You deserve to know what you’re going to get into (if you even decide that you want to), before you two delve into something deeper.

The only thing is that you two are already there. Too far gone for each other, even though Jason doesn’t know that you are. The one thing that he is certain about is that when he tells you, it will change the foundations of the road that you have been building together.

What Jason isn’t so sure of is if it will destroy them, or make them even stronger.

But something that he does know, is that right now is not the moment for any of that.

So, for the time being, he settles with greeting you back and eventually saying:

“You look… You look great.” Even though that is an understatement.

You smile and shyly look down, your fingers playing with the skirt of your dress.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He says, and while you two are busy looking at each other, you both miss Rose and Jimmy’s knowing looks and smiles. And before he can help it, he’s opening his mouth again. “So, uhm, do you have a date or something?” He tries to say nonchalantly, not wanting to sound too obtrusive, but the doubt killing him.

Your eyes widen and you chuckle, shaking your head.

“What? God no, just fancy family dinner. It’s my parents' anniversary. Since they’re visiting they decided to celebrate together.” You explain, and Jason can feel a wash of relief going over him, his racing heart calming down.

He hasn’t lost his chance.

“Oh, that’s nice. Congrats.”

You nod and grab your things, getting ready to leave before turning to Jimmy and Rose.

“Thanks again for letting me go early.”

“Of course, dear. And don’t worry about the dress, it looks perfect. You look lovely.”

“No problem, sweetie.” Jimmy adds before complimenting you too.

You kiss the couple’s cheeks in thanks before bidding them goodbye, Jason copying your words before opening the door for you.

As you two leave, you see Jimmy whisper something into Rose’s ear while putting an arm around her waist, bringing her closer to him. She chuckles and she kisses his cheek and Jimmy kisses her forehead in return.

Jason smiles at the fond interaction.

“They’re lovely, aren’t they?” You say, still looking at the couple.

“They are.” Jason says, already looking at you. You’re lovely too. “You’re going to the restaurant with your family now?”

“Yeah, I didn’t have enough time to spare after the shift to go back home so I had to change in the bookshop. My parents lend me their car in order to make it.”

Jason nods, trying not to look too disappointed at the fact that he can’t even offer to drive you there, and a comfortable silence settles between you, neither of you wanting to part ways yet.

But you have to go if you don’t want to be late so you sigh before speaking once again.

“I have to go.”

“Yeah.” Jason says, hands in his pockets. “See you soon then.”

“Bye.” You say and you haven’t taken two steps before Jason calls your name. You turn.

“You look very beautiful.” He can’t help but compliment you again.

You feel your whole face heat up.

“Thanks.”

You think about him the whole way to the restaurant but then again, when aren’t you not thinking about Jason Todd?

Jason has never been more scared in his life. Well, maybe he had, when he was in that damned warehouse. And then later, when he woke up after that without being able to recall who he was or where he was.

But this other type of fear... It's almost paralyzing, threathening to swallow him whole.

He runs as fast as he can, taking long strides, his rugged breathing making him have tunnel vision and only allowing him to focus on one thing.

You.

He hadn’t liked how close the situation had been to the bookshop from the very first moment that they had received the alert. Worry tight in his throat since he had always hoped not to ever have this kind of situation this close to you.

The bookshop’s neighborhood had always been one of the safest in Gotham, there were certain minor crimes, yes, which part of the city didn’t have them? But none of the rogues had ever attacked there.

You had once joked that you thought that the reason for it might be that some of the villains had family living there. You once even said that you could have sworn to have seen the Penguin accompanying an old lady that might have been his mother crossing the street.

Yet still, now an ACE Chemicals truck had been assaulted by Scarecrow and his henchmen. The truck wasn’t even supposed to be in the neighborhood in the first place, but the company and the police had received some information that an attack was being planned and they had decided to detour it.

And now you were in danger.

Jason keeps running with his hands clenched into fists that were turning tighter and tighter by the second.

He can feel sweat gathering on his forehead and he can almost hear a ticking clock hanging over his head as he puts some distance between him and the sickeningly looking mist of muddy green gas that had exploded in the truck.

The very same gas that was quickly spreading along the streets and that would reach the bookshop in a matter of minutes.

The first ones to arrive at the scene had been him and Tim, trying to control the situation until backup could arrive.

Scarecrow’s men were taking over the truck and before leaping into action, Jason threw Tim a look that even with the helmet on, Tim could perfectly understand.

If anything starts going sideways, I’m out of here. Going to her.

Going to you.

Tim was also aware of the fact of how close it all was to the bookshop and he just nodded, knowing how much you mattered to Jason.

They had been able to control the situation more or less as more and more police cars gathered around the truck. But then Scarecrow had finally made his appearance and everything derailed. At first, it seemed like they just wanted to steal from the truck but then something happened and the truck exploded.

Between the chemicals from inside the truck and whatever other things the villain and his gang always brought with them, the gas set off along with the explosion.

Scarecrow and his men scurried off immediately after, giving the feeling that that had certainly not been their desired outcome.

But the gas started spreading and they had no idea what chemicals were inside the truck or what the effects of it could be, but Jason wasn’t going to risk it.

And so, he took a quick glance at Tim, who already had his gas mask on, helping people on the street, and returning his gaze, Tim just nodded.

Go. We handle this here.

And with that, Jason set off.

The bookshop wasn’t actually that far away, just a few blocks, but Jason feels like he’s doing the longest run of his life and that time itself is slowing him down. He has also tried calling you but the line was already overloaded with all the emergency calls.

As he runs, he can hear through his intercom Tim and Steph shouting instructions to everyone nearby and Barbara guiding Bruce to track down Scarecrow.

His heart’s racing and when he finally catches sight of the bookshop, he feels like it’s going to jump out of his chest.

The sound of the door slamming open startles you in your place behind the counter. You turn your head to tell the person that had entered to mind their manners when you are met with a red stare that you had only seen in blurry pictures on the news and heard rumors about.

You take in a sharp breath as Red Hood closes the door and approaches you in quick strides. You freeze in your place, not because you are scared of him but because of the surprise of it. Especially when you look him over and your gaze can’t tear away from the brown leather jacket that felt so familiar to you.

Red Hood grabs your wrist, bringing you with him hurriedly into the break room. And though his grip is strong, you’re surprised to find that it doesn’t hurt at all. You can hear him talking and you know that his presence here can’t mean anything good, though not for you of course, you know that Red Hood wouldn’t hurt you, he didn’t hurt innocent people, but something must have happened.

However, you can’t seem to register any of his words, it’s like he’s saying something but you’re underwater, his words sounding muffled and jammed together.

Because for some strange reason you’re still fixated on his jacket.

He sets you down on the floor next to the sofa in the break room and crouches down in front of you. And then he does something that makes your brows furrow in confusion.

He calls you by your name.

How does he even know your name?

You want to ask him but everything feels so confusing right now, like a tornado spinning around you. You only manage to utter a weak “What…?”, before you can’t help it and your hands, with a life of their own, run over his arms, feeling the fabric of the jacket until they reach the lapels and grip them.

Your heart was already racing and your breathing labored from the whole situation but it seemed like they hadn’t reached their limit yet. Though you feel like they are surely about to do so. You can feel your heart go even faster as your mind begins spiraling with thoughts and you suck in a breath when the realization hits you.

Because this… This piece of clothing so characteristic of the vigilante in front of you, you had spent an awful lot of time staring and gawking over the man that wore it several times in your bookshop.

Because this… This is the very same fabric that your hands had touched while you had been inches away from kissing that very same man in an alley while you were playing hide and seek.

Because now that you were able to see it up close, you instantly recognize it.

How could you not? When you had spent so much time with its owner, laughing while you two ate lunch; admiring him when he found an interesting book on the bookshelves; feeling understood when you shared your worries with him; taking the opportunity to touch his arm anytime that you could, covered in this very same jacket, one of the few of this type that he owned; hoping that if you were to tell him how you feel, he would feel the same way; and wishing that you could kiss him without having to worry about the consequences?

Because this jacket belongs to the man that you’re in love with.

Because this jacket… This jacket belongs to Jason Todd.

And then everything clicks, how he works nights, the wounds on his knuckles, his occasional and strange run offs. Suddenly it all feels so blatantly obvious that you wonder how you didn’t see it before.

You know in your gut what it means but your brain is still catching up with everything going on around you to fully make sense of what your heart already knows.

For a quick second, the thought that maybe he shouldn’t wear the same jacket while patrolling and during his day to day, makes you want to start laughing. Though it’s true that unless you saw it more than once, several times and very close, no one would realize that they were the same jacket. But the reality of the situation around you helps you to rein in the inappropriate laugh.

And then your name being called again finally breaks you out of your thoughts, and the only thing that you can focus on is him.

Jason’s gripping your shoulders now, willing you to focus on him and needing to have some kind of contact with you to make sure that you’re okay. He moves frantically, his eyes quickly checking the front door of the bookshop through one of the break room’s windows that look into the main part of the shop, already seeing the mist of gas slipping under it, trying to calculate how much time he has left.

He’s been asking you if you’re okay and trying to explain what has happened but the sentences come out stumbled, his brain going faster than what his mouth can follow.

In his haste he doesn’t even register the change in the look of your eyes at your realization.

He knows what he has to do but he’s afraid of what it will entail. He wanted to sit down with you, tell you about being Red Hood and explain everything to you. He wanted to be hopeful that you may understand but now he doesn’t have the chance to let you know how he would have wanted to.

It feels like someone has pushed him from the tightrope beneath him, directly cutting it, or rather, that it has snapped over his own weight, not able to hold him and his secrets anymore, and now he’s falling and he can’t do anything about it.

And if you would have ever laid a net beneath him, he’s sure that you would cut a hole open in it now.

He’s about to break everything that you two have been working towards, a shattering earthquake destroying what once was a strong and beautiful road.

But it’s the only way to keep you safe.

And he would cut the rope sustaining him himself and willingly fall into the abyss if he had to to make sure that you’re safe. That’s the only thing that matters to him right now.

And that’s exactly what he does.

You watch perplexed as Red Hood takes the helmet off and you’re met with the sharp features and white streak that you love so much.

It really is him.

He’s Red Hood.

Jason is Red Hood.

Jason, who always seemed to be checking out children’s books, wearing leather jackets and making you smile like no one has ever done before.

Your Jason.

Out of the corner of your eye you see a weird mist start to seep through under the door to the break room that Red Hood- no, Jason, had closed after you two entered.

“Jason?” You whisper. He lifts his head up from where he’s been fidgeting with the helmet since he took it off to meet your gaze, and the broken look in his eyes makes your heart feel like it has been stabbed. “What’s going on?” He follows your line of sight and his eyes grow with worry.

“Scarecrow.” He mutters while turning back to the helmet, he pushes a few hidden buttons in it and you’re surprised to see how its panels shift, changing its shape slightly but still having a head-like form.

And then Jason turns to you, his hands lifting with the helmet towards your head.

Your face contorts with horror when you realize what he wants to do.

You immediately grab his forearms, pushing them down and therefore, the helmet too.

“What are you doing?” You say.

“I have to protect you. And we don’t know what the gas does yet so I’m not taking any risks.” He pushes the helmet towards your head once again but you repeat your previous action, preventing him from doing so.

“And you? What about you?” You ask desperately, the gas coming closer and closer towards you both.

Jason’s lips pull into a sad smile. “I’ll be fine.” He whispers. It’s like he has already resigned himself to something. You shake your head.

“No. I’m not taking it.”

“I have a spare small mask, don’t worry.”

You’re still so in shock from everything that you don’t realize that he’s lying, yet in the pit of your stomach you can already feel a pool of dread forming.

“But-” You start but he cuts you off.

“Y/N, listen to me. We don’t have much time. Do you trust me?”

Even with everything that has just happened, you don’t hesitate.

“Always.”

Jason nods and puts the red helmet over your head, the shifted panels allowing it to fit your head perfectly. Jason sighs with relief and looks at you fondly, his hands still on either side of your head.

Your hands come up to cover his own and he nods reassuringly. “You okay?” He whispers, and you nod.

Everything is going to be okay.

But then Jason starts coughing.

The gas has already reached you both and gathers at your ankles.

Your eyes widen and you reach for him as his hands let go of your head to support himself when he begins lulling to one side. “Jason!” You shout.

You can see his eyes losing focus, starting to get dizzy. While your breathing keeps coming in deep and clean thanks to the regulator built in the helmet, Jason seems to be gasping for air, like he isn’t getting enough oxygen or like his lungs are refusing what’s going in them.

And you finally realize that there never was a spare mask.

How could you have been so foolish?

You try to take the helmet off to give it back to him but it’s like it’s closed off. You press the buttons that you find on the underside at the back but nothing happens. You try everything but it just won’t come off.

Nothing.

You can’t take it off.

He must have locked it somehow, almost as if he knew what you would try to do.

You can’t protect him.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry.” A cough. “ I swear I wanted to tell you.” Another one. “ I was going to.” He says between short breaths before finally collapsing onto the floor.

You grab him before his head hits the ground and you hush him gently.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry, it’s okay.” Now it’s you the one holding the sides of his face softly.

One of his hands comes up to hold one of your own, and you can’t stand the look of utter adoration and affection with which he gazes at you.

Because you can’t help him.

And his look is as if he would be content to go this way, knowing that at least you’re safe.

And your heart breaks all over again.

The room is covered in gas now and it’s not until your vision becomes slightly blurry that you register the tears welling up in your eyes.

You cry for help but there’s nothing that can be done now. You also try calling 911, not caring what will happen if someone sees that he’s Red Hood. You just need him to be safe. But the line doesn't work. Jason begins to close his eyes.

“Hey, hey, no.” You urge. “Stay with me, stay with me.” Jason opens his eyes once more, fighting to stay awake, but you can see in them how he’s almost gone, his consciousness slipping away from him.

“Please.” You whisper, fighting the tears.

And then his hand holding yours falls limp.

And with it, your heart does too.

You shake him, call him, scream at him to wake up but it’s no use. Tears run down your cheeks now, raked sobs breaking though your chest.

You even try to take off the helmet again but of course, nothing happens.

You feel for his heartbeat, it takes you an agonizing second to feel it but it's there.

Weak and slow, barely perceptible, but it’s there.

Although you fear that probably not for much longer.

Fear and dread run through you, you don’t know how to fix this. You don’t want to let him go but he’s being pulled away from you.

And then the door to the break room bursts open.

You look up and there Red Robin stands.

And the way in which he shakes his hair away from his eyes with a movement of his head while looking around the room frantically, trying to locate you through the mist, makes your breath hitch in realization for the second time in the last few minutes.

Tim.

Then he notices Jason’s unconscious body in your arms and when his gaze meets yours, even with the helmet on he knows what you want to say.

Save him.

Your shifts at the bookstore have never felt longer. You had become so used to him and come to rely on his visits so much that now, without him, they only drag on and on and on, something that had never even happened before.

Even before him.

Your only solace being that he’s alive.

You often have to remind yourself of that fact when the memory of the fear of losing him claws back at you.

Jason is alive. He is okay.

After Tim found you two, he launched towards Jason, checking his vitals and addressing his state.

He told you that he needed to bring Jason to the batcave as soon as possible and you had immediately grabbed Jason’s hand, refusing to let go of him and profusely saying that you were going with him.

But Tim had only shook his head, explaining how Jason would kill him if he ever allowed you to not go to the hospital for a check up.

But you had fought him with tooth and nails, saying that you weren’t leaving his side anytime soon and Tim had no other option but to give up.

However, just as Tim was calling for Steph to come and help him with Jason quickly, you passed out.

Whether because of all the emotions and stress of those five minutes (because yes, since Jason first entered into the bookshop to protect you, it had only been five minutes, maybe even less), or because due to the shifted panels in the helmet, some gas had managed to slip in, you didn’t know.

Probably more the later than the former but still.

Next thing you knew, you woke up in the hospital. Thankfully without the helmet, Tim having probably managed to unlock it.

Through the doctors, nurses, and the news on the TV in the ER, you learned that the gas was dangerous but thankfully non-lethal. In most cases, like yours, people in the neighborhood who had only inhaled a bit just felt dizzy for a few hours or passed out for a bit.

In other cases, the most serious ones, like Jason’s, people were put into a coma-like state, with the lungs rendered to a point of near-exhaustion. But with good rest and the appropriate care, they would recover soon with no side effects.

Batman had managed to apprehend Scarecrow and just like the vigilantes had suspected from the beginning, it wasn’t a deliberate attack but a robbery gone wrong.

They let you go of the hospital that very same afternoon, with instructions that if you felt any kind of dizziness to come back. After your family (and Rose and Jimmy of course) checked in with you, you were finally able to grab a hold of your phone that had been left in the bookshop.

You were met with a text from Tim, how he had managed to get your number, you didn’t know, but it probably had something to do with the fact that all the Waynes were part of the Batfamily.

Or at least, that’s what you figured, once you were finally able to think with a clear head and digest all of your recent discoveries.

The text said that Jason had made it to the batcave safely, that he had been treated immediately and that he was resting now.

You have never been more grateful for anything in your life.

But that had been a week and a half ago. And you hadn’t seen Jason since.

You felt like a part of you had been ripped out and taken along with him. The absence of a vital organ leaving you empty.

Probably your heart, since it had left your chest and leaped itself into Jason’s hands a long time ago.

The neighborhood had been deemed safe after the gas dissipated and you were back to your job like nothing had ever happened, just like how it often was after any incident with a rogue in Gotham.

Life just went on. Gotham and its residents as resilient as ever. The fight and survival etched onto their DNA.

If there ever was something to admire Gotham for, its survival skills were definitely it.

You had wanted to see Jason immediately, and you had even called Tim so that he could tell you more about Jason’s state and tried to see when you could go see him but then your mother had called.

Your uncle had had an accident at work and he would need surgery.

Though there was some risk, it wasn’t a extremely dangerous procedure. But if there was something that all of your family had in common and that was characteristic of all of you, was that if something happened to someone, every single member of the family would come running to be there.

And you knew that you had to be there, you wanted to be there, but it still tore at your insides having had to leave without having being able to see Jason. But your uncle lived on the other side of the country and you had to take a plane that very same night to be able to arrive before the surgery the next day.

So, you had called Tim back, telling him that you had to leave, how bad you felt, how sorry you were and that you would try to come back as soon as possible. But Tim assured you that it was okay, that they would all take care of Jason, that it would take him a couple of days to wake up and be fully conscious and that he understood (and that Jason would too) that you had to go.

You nodded, trying to hold back tears and muff your sniffling due to all the stress that had taken a hold of you due to all the recent events. Tim had calmed you down and promised you to keep you updated. Helping you just like you had done when you met him.

Thank god for Tim Drake. You’re pretty sure that you would have lost it if it weren’t because of him. His reassurance a sign of a friendship for a lifetime.

And so, you left. Everything went well with your uncle and you were glad to have been able to see your family for a few days since quite a long time ago.

But when you came back, Jason wouldn’t see you.

It took Jason two days to wake up from the coma-like state, though he had been getting better and better with each passing hour, and a full day of only eating and sleeping before he was able to return to normalcy.

Still, when he first woke up, the only thing in his foggy brain was you. He asked about you as soon as he opened his eyes and Tim told him that you were okay but that you had to leave for a few days due to a family emergency, and that you had called every day several times to check in.

Jason let out a sigh of relief. Both because you were safe and because he didn’t know how he would have faced you if you had been there.

He was sure that you hated him now. Despised him. Sure, you had called to see how he was, but that’s just how you were, caring and protective. But deep down, he knew that you had to resent him for having hidden being Red Hood from you.

He was sure that if he saw you, the first thing that you would do was scream at him and tell him that you didn’t want him in your life anymore.

And he wouldn’t be able to bear that.

He didn’t know how he could ever go back to a life without you.

That’s why he refused to see you everytime that you reached out after you came back. Letting his phone ring out when you called, later just sending a quick text saying that he was fine, that he was just busy with some things in order to not worry you. He knew that it was unfair and that he was being an idiot but he didn’t know what he would do if he saw you, even though he knew that he eventually would have to.

And yet, despite all of that, he still couldn’t bring himself to fully cut ties with you. He simply couldn’t. Needing you at least in some way in his life just as much as he needed air. As well as the fact that he knew that he couldn't do something like that to you, at least not without explaining.

It wasn’t until Tim cornered him and talked some sense into him that he realized that he couldn’t put it off any longer.

When Jason enters the bookshop, a chill runs through him as he shakes the drops of water from his hair. He had dreaded every single step that he took towards the bookshop, a cloud of shame hanging over his head. And then the universe had decided that he wasn’t miserable enough and so that cloud of shame had quite literally started to pour on him. He couldn’t help but think that he deserved it but still, it sucked.

He usually liked rain. Just not when he didn’t have an umbrella and was tethering on the edge of sanity while trying to hold the composure that he had created to give him the strength necessary to face you. And certainly not when he was holding a hot chocolate that he had bought for you; having already lost count of how many times he had previously done so when he came to visit you, in a sad attempt at a peace offering, even though he was sure that you would dump it on him; but that now surely was just cold chocolate.

Shit. He really was going to look like even more of an idiot than he already was.

“Jason?” Your soft voice comes through, like an antidote calming him instantly and soothing all his worries. Your presence, like always, making all of his dark thoughts go away.

Though that peace didn’t last long because you were here now and he couldn’t run now. He had to do what he had come to do.

Even though he still wasn’t sure what exactly that was, no matter how much he had tried to prepare himself. Had he come to apologize? Explain? Beg for your forgiveness? He had no idea.

It didn’t matter anymore because as usual, all his thoughts and working brain cells flew out of the window when he was near you. This time even more so than usual since he had never gone this long without seeing you. He just stands there, soaked from the rain on the entrance doormat, like a wet cat begging to be let home again after causing trouble and running out.

And you’re just standing there, in the doorway of the break room, looking at him like you couldn’t believe what you were seeing, as if he was some mythological creature and you didn’t dare to move an inch, either in order not to scare him away or because you were petrified in fear, Jason didn’t know.

And he’s just rendered speechless. His breath taken away from him as he takes you in for what possibly is the last time, trying to commit every part of your beautiful self to memory, all of those parts that he already knows by heart, before you kick him out of the bookshop and out of your life forever.

“Yeah.” He finally responds.

Great, Jason. Very eloquent.

No turning back now.

He gulps.

“Hi.” He adds, trying to act with normalcy but he winces when he realizes that it doesn’t match the situation at all. There really is no way of making this any easier, is there?

He expects you to start yelling at him, push him, anything. But you just keep staring at him. And then:

“God, you’re drenched. Wait here.” You disappear for a second and Jason can’t believe what has just happened, a bewildered look in his eyes. He expected anything but that. But he obeys, doing whatever you asked of him in his very nature, trying to move as little as possible so that he would only drop water onto the doormat. You return quickly and hand him a towel after taking the hot (cold) chocolate from his hands so that he can dry up a bit.

You put the cup onto the counter as he shakes his boots on the mat, dries his face and ruffles the towel through his hair. When he finishes you approach him once again.

“Here, let me take your jacket. You're going to freeze.” Jason feels like he’s on autopilot as he follows your every direction, like a sailor the call of a siren. Not daring to move a single muscle or do any abrupt movement other than what’s necessary, afraid of breaking whatever is happening right now.

You hang his jacket on the coat rack by the door to dry a bit and then you turn back to him.

There’s a moment of silence, the only noise being the rain’s soft pattering against the windows, the dark clouds filtering the setting sun, casting the bookstore in a gloomy atmosphere though the place still maintains its warm glow from the few lamps turned on with a yellow and orange glow.

The place is quiet, not a single soul in the bookshop except you two. Jason made sure of coming around closing time so that you could be alone, without any other customers interrupting and, even though he wouldn’t admit it out loud, the small hope of finding the bookshop closed and therefore having the perfect excuse to delay this another day.

But of course, the universe wasn’t going to have it. He never was that lucky.

Jason is so stupefied that he doesn’t move from the doormat as you take a couple of steps closer to him and look him over. Assessing him. Studying him. He avoids your gaze, not knowing what to do under your scrutiny.

He might as well be a cactus now with how rooted he is to the goddamn doormat. And then he sees how your feet join his on it and he can’t help the chill that runs through him once again, but not from the cold this time, but from your intoxicating proximity, so reminiscent of the one from the ghost kiss in the alley.

This is it, he thinks. This is when you finally push him from your life forever.

But then you surprise him once again, when without any trace of hesitation nor fear you touch his face. Sofly cradling it as if you might still care about him.

He doesn’t understand anything that’s going on right now. He has never been more confused in his entire life.

After so many months, Jason had come to know you in such a way, so intricately well, that he could read you like a book. Just like you with him. But now, Jason is seriously questioning that because he has no idea what is going through your mind right now.

He finally gathers the courage to look at you, still afraid of what he’s going to find, but you’re not even looking at him.

Your gaze is fixated upon the small cut at the end of his left eyebrow.

A reminder of the Red Hood duty from the night before. How he had managed to get a wound there even with the helmet on, he had no idea.

He sees your eyebrows furrow and your expression change to one of worry.

And then your hands run down his sides until they take a hold of his, inspecting them over after taking the towel from them.

And you sigh, disappointed in finding what you hoped not to be there. The skin on his knuckles broken once again.

Jason feels like a stranded boat, lost at sea, the water around him lulling him to its will.

That’s you.

The rain continues on as you turn slightly and flip the sign of the bookshop to closed before locking the door.

As a lightning strikes in the distance, flashing momentaneous light into the bookshop and illuminating your soft features, you take Jason’s hand and just like several times before, you drag him to the break room, but this time, instead of on a chair by the table, you sit him down on the sofa.

And he lets you. He gladly lets the sea take his boat wherever it wants to. Even if it’s to his own demise.

You take the blanket resting on the arm of the couch and drape it over him, making sure that it stays on his shoulders before you take the towel back to the bathroom and for the third time, you grab the first aid kit there.

You return to the break room and not even your shuffling steps make his lost gaze go towards you.

Despite his big frame you had never seen him so small, curled onto himself, head hung in shame; and it makes your heart clench. He looks deep in thought, grabbing the edges of the blanket so that it stays wrapped around him, as if he’s contemplating how to say whatever he has come to say to you.

But you don’t care. He could stay quiet the whole time if he wanted to.

Because at least he was here.

And honestly, your first instinct at seeing him back in the bookshop had been to run to him and hug him like your life depended on it and never let him go. But you had ultimately decided against it, not wanting to scare him away.

His presence there still felt almost like a mirage to you, after having gone so long without seeing him for the first time ever since you met him.

So, it was a very welcomed step from just sending you short texts letting you know he was still alive and well.

And you couldn’t blame him. Like always, you two worked by taking your own time, giving each other space.

And you knew that Jason had a lot on his mind after the gas incident. In the chaos of it all, he had told you that he had wanted to tell you about being Red Hood before and you wholeheartedly believed him, knowing that it wasn’t something that you could just tell anyone at any given moment. And now he had to deal with the reality that now you knew about that part of his life.

And you had a feeling that he thought that you would push him away for it. Resent him. When it couldn’t be further from the truth.

Because now you saw the whole picture that Jason Todd was.

And you know what?

He still was your Jason.

He still was the man that you were in love with.

Someone to whom you felt connected in a way that you had never felt before. Someone that was your friend and that always managed to make you smile. Someone that was always there for you when you had a bad day. Someone that reads to kids in his free time. Someone that tries to make this city better and protects its people as a vigilante. Someone who goes out of his way to visit you, a completely normal and ordinary woman who runs a simple bookshop. Someone that didn’t hesitate in sacrificing his own safety for yours.

Yeah, you were still very much in love with that man.

And if he needed some time to come back to you, that was fine with you because you knew that he wouldn’t just leave you like that. During the last few days you could even have sworn to have seen him peering through the windows into the bookshop in passing, but when you focused a bit more, he was gone. Or at least that’s what you hoped, the string pulling you two together too strong.

No matter how much it had pained you to have the person holding your heart keeping you at arm’s length.

Because a day or two more of waiting and you would have stormed into wherever Jason was and told him how much he meant to you until that stubborn head of his realized how you weren’t ever letting him go.

You also hoped that he didn’t resent you, for not having been able to be at his side when he woke up. Something that you will never forgive yourself for, no matter how you knew that it couldn’t have been any other way.

You sit down next to him and place the first aid kit on the coffee table in front of the sofa, getting all that you will need to heal his wounds ready. You take one more look at them and your heart clenches.

You don’t like how he doesn’t seem to take full care of himself.

Because to you, Jason Todd was a treasure. A treasure that you will never be sure how you had managed to be able to find.

And he should be treated just like one.

And that’s exactly what you intend to do.

You follow the same process as the last time to take care of his knuckles, Jason quiet and avoiding your gaze the whole time, before moving onto the cut on his brow.

You raise your hand with a cotton patch to put some antiseptic on it and your eyes finally meet his. The green in them, like always, lighting up your insides, a forest in which you would gladly get lost in.

Jason looks at you as one of your hands takes a hold of his chin to tilt his head while the other one begins treating the cut.

And Jason feels like dying when he sees the flash of pain that crosses your eyes because he knows that he’s the one who put it there.

From the very first time that you healed him, he could see how you didn’t like seeing him hurt. Yet he still had let you see his wounds and tend to them more times after that.

He really usually does tend to his wounds. Except that very first time with his knuckles that he had been so tired he had only cleaned them. But after feeling your soft hands taking care of him for the first time, it was like he didn’t want his wounds healed anymore unless it was you the one who did it.

And so, subconsciously, selfishly and guiltily, he barely tended to them, just what was strictly necessary, a desperate attempt and blind hope of you maybe wanting to heal him in order to feel your delicate touch, that Jason was sure did a lot more for his wounds than whatever any kind of medicine could do.

Your touch not only mending his wounds but also healing his soul and soothing all the bad thoughts in his mind.

But right now, Jason wants nothing more than to get on his knees and do whatever you ask of him. Anything to make the slight hurt that briefly passes your eyes go away. Beg if it's necessary.

He thinks that apologizing may be a good starting point.

“Y/N…” He begins but before he can go on any further you hush him, almost like you want to enjoy the silence and this moment of intimacy as much as possible.

Then you reach for the first aid kit again, taking a steri-strip from a pack that you had bought, along with some other extra items, knowing that the basics of a normal first aid weren’t going to be enough now that you knew that he was Red Hood.

You put it on the cut, careful of not hurting him. Jason watches you mesmerized, still not believing that you haven’t kicked him out yet.

Then, you take a normal band-aid to put over the strip, just to be extra safe but mainly because you want to see him smile.

“Is that a Hello Kitty band-aid?” He asks in disbelief, breaking the silence, as he watches you open the band-aid with the pink, red and white doodles.

“Yup.” You say as you put it, covering the cut and fully hiding it from view, Jason not putting any kind of resistance to it. And your heart clenches blissfully at the small smile that pulls at Jason’s lips. Oh, how much you had missed it, your own personal kind of drug. And you can’t help but mirror him too.

“Thanks.” He whispers once you’re done patching him up. You give a slight nod in return.

You pass your thumb softly over the band-aid to make sure that it doesn’t fall off and then you meet Jason’s eyes again, that look just like a kicked puppy’s. Shining with oncoming tears and wide in fear of what is going to come next.

“I owe you an explanation.” He finally says with a sigh of resignation and you shake your head.

“Jason, you don’t-”

“No, let me do this. I need to do this. It’s the least I can do, I owe it to you.” He says, taking your hands in his, one of which still was caressing his eyebrow and stares at them as he can’t help but begin to rub soft circles into the back of them.

Goosebumps raise all over your skin.

Jason takes a deep breath before he starts talking. It seemed like you still cared about him but would you still do so once he finally explained everything and told you the truth?

He didn’t want to get his hopes up. But he knows that he can’t delay this anymore. He doesn’t want to.

As he begins, a cracking thunder sounds in the distance, shaking the foundations of the road that you two have been building together to its core.

The question being, would it stand the storm?

You listen to him intently. He doesn’t look at you once, instead deciding to focus on your joined hands. Grabbing onto a last part of you before he lets you go forever.

“And I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you. I totally understand that you may not want to see me anymore. I betrayed your trust and that’s unforgivable. Some of the things that I’ve done…” He shakes his head. “I want you to know that I never meant to hurt you. Please know that. You mean so much to me. And even though it breaks me having to remove myself from your life, I know that it’s for the best.”

“Jason, I-”

“No, no. Let me finish please.” He continues ranting. “I promise you that I won’t let the feelings that I have for you get in the way. I will go out that door tonight and never come back again. I’ll let you get on with your life.”

You’re fairly sure that he doesn’t even realize half the things that he’s saying. It’s like he has opened a gate and now not only is he apologizing and telling you the truth about everything, but he’s also letting his feelings for you finally come to the surface, unable to stop himself. He’s so caught up in everything that he leaves them out in the open without even realizing it.

And you just want to smile. Because Jason Todd has feelings for you too. And he has just said it out loud. You try to conceal your beaming smile to not scare him away. He’s way too much into his own head now, spiraling around the fact that he has to remove himself from your life as some sort of self-imposed punishment and in order to at least spare himself a part of the pain that would come from you outright kicking him away.

But you would never do that. Because even with everything that he has just told you and the things that he hasn’t yet, because you know that his story is a lot longer than what an evening can hold and holds a lot more things and very much darker ones than what he has revealed for the moment, you still want to be here with him. You still want him in your life.

Nothing could make you want to stay away from Jason Todd.

Not even himself.

And if there’s one thing that you’re stubborn about is that you’re always there for the people that you care about.

You just need to make him see that. To make him see how important he is to you. And you’re going to do everything you can so that he does.

You call his name again, trying to center his attention back to you but he keeps rambling.

You can only think of one thing that might finally make him stop and listen to you while also making him realize how you feel about him.

You have never done something as bold as this before. And there’s still a knick of doubt in the back of your mind, but the mere possibility of Jason leaving and the fact that the safety line that you two had drawn about your friendship and your feelings is fully difuminated now after his unintentional confession, almost as if it had never actually been there, has you determined. You want to think that it would turn out right.

And if not, at least you would get to do something that you had wanted to do for a very long time.

So, after firmly saying his name once more, and one of your hands getting out of his hold and tilting his head towards you, just when his eyes finally, finally, lock with yours for a quick second, you press your lips to his.

It’s not a long kiss and there isn’t much movement but you hope that you’re conveying everything that you feel for him and more. You can tell that Jason’s caught by surprise but it doesn’t take long at all for him to slowly press his lips against yours, returning your kiss. He lets himself melt into it and you do too. You feel warm all over and then you both sigh against each other, the two of you having fallen off the tightrope and finding that not only there’s a safety net beneath you, but an infinite number under it, one after the other, in the impossible case that one might break.

A soft place to land, a warm embrace.

You think that you could die happily right now.

You part, not wanting to overwhelm him but just from that taste you can already feel yourself slightly dizzy in the best kind of way. You slowly open your eyes and see Jason already looking at you, not believing what has just happened. You take a deep breath. Might as well put the nail in the coffin now. Cement the road.

“I’m in love with you Jason. All that makes you be you. Including being Red Hood. And I’m not going anywhere. And I really, really hope that you aren’t either.” You whisper.

“I’m a mess.”

You tilt your head with a small smile. “Aren’t we all?”

“Are you sure?” He whispers back, caressing your hair, still giving you an out, a last chance for you to escape him and all his problems, before his instincts take over and he latches himself onto you forever and never lets you go.

You nod, not faltering in your resolve. “Yes.”

“I’m in love with you too. I love you.” He says next and nothing has ever felt so liberating. Jason feels light, floating. And all he wants to do now is say it over and over again, just in case that you might still not be aware of how much he loves you.

“Good. That’s very, very good. I love you too.” You giggle, pressing your forehead to his, your noses brushing each other. Jason grins.

“Can you do that again?” He asks, his gaze dropping to your lips, already knowing that the day that he goes by without tasting them will be torture.

Your smile widens even more, if that’s even possible, and you kiss him once again.

And again.

After that, everything stayed more or less the same. Jason kept coming into the bookshop several times a week, buying books and checking out some others.

Except that now, he also kissed you everytime he did so.

Except that now, you went on very official dates, not ones that could be mistaken by a friendly hangout.

Except that now, you paid a lot more attention to any news about Red Hood.

Except that now, you always patched him up.

Except that now, you spent nights in each other's beds.

And right now, you’re very confused.

Your brows knit as you try to understand what is in front of you. The computer screen showing the details of a book order that you had made for the bookshop a while ago but that hadn’t arrived, not making any sense.

You’re so concentrated that you barely register the jingle of the bell above the entrance door. Out of the corner of your eye you feel a figure come to stand in front of the counter.

“Just a second, please. I’ll be right with you.” You say almost automatically, trying to see if you can just wrap your head around what you’re reading on the screen, though you doubt that a few more seconds will make any difference. But still, you’re adamant to try.

“It’s okay. I’m just looking for my girlfriend.” The figure says and your head lifts up so fast at the voice that you should be worried about getting whiplash. But you don’t care.

Because there he is.

Jason Todd.

Your boyfriend.

You still feel giddy inside every time that you think about it.

You let out a small gasp before your lips twist into a wide smile and you might as well be The Flash with how quickly you round the counter and wrap your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.

Jason’s smile is just as radiant as yours as he watches you come to him and gets ready for when you crash into him, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and giving you a slight spin when your feet lift off the floor due to the force of your hug.

He closes his eyes and breathes you in while he hugs you and brings you even closer to him, if that’s even possible. Your bodies merged into one in your embrace.

Never in his wildest dreams would Jason have ever thought that he would find himself in this situation. One in which you rush to meet him glowing with happiness. One in which he gets to kiss you without the fear of being rejected and one in which he’s able to call himself yours. He never would have believed any of that when he stepped foot into the bookshop that fateful night, which he was sure would be the last time he would ever get to see you.

He still can’t believe how lucky he is to have you. He just can’t wrap his head around the fact that you want him. That you accept all of his demons and that you help him fight them. That you love him. He will never take it for granted.

God, he loves you so much.

Your feet touch the floor once again but he doesn’t let go. He lets his senses overwhelm with you, everything about you enveloping him and not letting him feel anything that isn’t you. Your scent, the feel of your hair tickling his cheek, your arms around him. He doesn’t want to ever let you go.

He’s finally home.

Two weeks and a half is too long without you.

You think the very same about him as you do the exact same with him, your senses taking every part of him in, committing him to memory once again, even though you already know them like the back of your hand.

The feel of his soft hair as you run your fingers through it, just like you had dreamed so many times before, the scent and feel of his leather jacket beneath your arms.

God, you love him so much.

You finally pull back and look up at him with stars in your eyes. And then, without sparing another second, he dips down to kiss you. Or you pull up to kiss him, you’re not sure.

The only thing that matters is that his lips are finally back on yours and that’s all you need to know. You kiss him deeply, savoring him after being apart for so long and he kisses you back just as eagerly, loving the feeling of finally having you back in his arms.

And just like everytime that you kissed, like the very first time, it feels like a dream. Because you still can’t believe that he’s yours and that you’re his.

It was a long time coming.

But it turns out that you two are still human and therefore still need to breathe, so you both pull away but only what is strictly necessary to regain your breaths. Your chests and foreheads are still pressed together and lips inches from each other, so close that you can’t tell which breaths are his and which breaths are yours.

Your fast beating hearts falling into the same rhythm, syncing once again, going as one.

One of your hands holds the side of his face, softly caressing his cheek, so smooth that he must have shaved that very same morning. You feel his grip on your waist tighten.

“What are you doing here?” You finally say between giggles, the drug of his proximity, like always, making pure happiness run through your veins.

“Wrapped the case early.” He answers breathlessly before not being able to resist anymore and kissing you again.

You can’t help the smile on your lips while you kiss him and you can feel another one pulling at his own. When you separate once again you smile at each other, your eyes shining with love and affection for one another.

Jason had left earlier that month to help Dick with a case in Blüdhaven for a few days but then the thing had gotten bigger and dragged them all the way to Metropolis, making his trip longer than what he had first anticipated.

And then earlier in the week he had told you that he wouldn’t be able to return until the end of it. But here he was. Holding you in his arms and kissing you on a peaceful Wednesday afternoon.

“Everything went well?” You ask, not daring to tear your eyes away from his, only perhaps to steal a quick look at his lips.

“Yeah. All good.”

Before either of you can say anything else or even try to kiss each other again, Rose, Jimmy and Charlie, all of whom had been chatting over coffee in the break room, emerge at all the fuss.

“What’s all this?” Says Charlie with a smile as you and Jason disentangle, though he keeps you tucked into his side with a respectful arm around your waist.

“Just a young lovers reunion, Charlie.” Answers Rose.

“Sorry for intruding on, kiddos.” Adds Jimmy.

“It’s okay.” You say.

“You must be this Jason that I’ve heard so much about.” Charlie comments.

“Yes, sir. And you must be the famous Charlie. Nice to meet you.” Jason answers while shaking his hand, though not before throwing you a glance that makes your cheeks heat up in embarrassment and hide your face in his shoulder for a second. So you talked about me too huh?

“You too. My grandchildren are going to be devastated that you’re with someone now, darling.” Charlie says jokingly towards you now.

“Sorry, Charlie.” You respond with an apologetic smile.

“It’s good to see you, sweetie.” Says Rose to Jason to which Jimmy nods in agreement.

“It’s great to be back home.” He answers and you feel his hand give your waist a slight squeeze.

Shivers run down your spine.

You look up at Jason lovingly, a gaze that he returns, and you’re so lost in each other that neither of you see the smiles and look of recognition that the elders have in their faces, having themselves experienced a love like yours that still lasted to this day.

“Go, honey. Take the rest of the day.” Rose offers. You turn to her surprised but you can’t help but to also be excited at the possibility of going out with Jason already. Maybe to see Lily and the other kids, since Jason hadn’t seen them since he left, though you had of course shown up to check on them and continue with the readings, or maybe to eat something at Millie and Ruby’s.

But you don’t care as long as Jason’s with you. There were so many possibilities and you two had all the time in the world. And you were going to seize every single second of it. You two had wasted enough time already.

You also already know that Jason’s either spending the rest of the week at your apartment or you’re spending it at his.

“Are you sure?” You ask Rose.

“Yeah, go have fun, kids.” Jimmy confirms. You thank them before smiling brightly at Jason and then going to get your bag and coat.

As you and Jason make your way towards the door, Charlie speaks up once again.

“You’re treating her right, I suppose.”

Jason looks at you as he opens the door of the bookshop before turning back to Charlie.

“Always.” He says without hesitating and Charlie nods, glad with his answer.

The elders watch you go, happy that you two have each other. They watch how Jason moves the hand on the small of your back to take your hands between his and blow into them to warm them up in the cold Gotham air. And how you then zip his jacket all the way up, adjusting the collar so that it would protect him as much as possible, both of you smiling and looking at each other fondly, before you disappear from their view hand in hand.

Because as it turns out, it isn’t really a surprise when the road stays as strong and sturdy as ever after that cracking thunder.

Because that night, the days after and over time, Jason told you everything. About his past, about his family. And over time all that you did was fall even more for him, loving every part, every scar that he decided to show you. And he did the exact same for you.

Because in the end, he still was your Jason, the kind and handsome young man who always checked out children’s books and wore leather jackets.

Please let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!

#Jason todd x reader #Jason todd fic #Jason todd one shot #Jason todd imagine #Jason todd #Red hood x reader #Red hood fic #Red hood one shot #Red hood imagine #Red hood #Jason todd imagines #Red hood imagines #Children's Books and Leather Jackets #ThreeStarsInLine #Jason todd fluff #Jason todd angst #Red hood fluff #Red hood angst #DC Comics

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raphael-angele · 28 days

Text

Nico's Big Sisters

I have this headcanon that while Bianca is away, the cabins take turns looking after Nico and he gets to stay with them.

Nico, crying: Thaliaaa!!!

Thalia: Nico? What's wrong?

Nico: *incomprehensible babble*

Thalia: Okay, okay, calm down. Tell me what happened

Nico, pointing to some Hermes kids: Tho- Those boys stole Three.

Thalia: *looks over at the Hermes kids tossing around a dog stuffie with three heads*

Nico: I told them to give it back but they wont. And they kept making fun of it

Thalia, rolling up her sleeves: Just a sec

Later:

Thalia with dirt all over her and slightly bloodied fists: Here you go, Nico. *hands over Three*

Nico: YAAAAY! THANK YOU, THALIA!

---

Nico: Reyna...

Reyna: Yes, Nico?

Nico: I fell down the track and I scraped my knee and hands *shows his hands*

Reyna, sees his injuries: Aww, c'mon let's go get them treated.

Dakota: OW! FUCK! REYNA! ONE OF THE HUNTERS JUST SHOT ME ON THE SHOULDER WITH AN ARROW

Reyna: WALK IT OFF!

---

If Zoë lived:

Bianca: Zoë

Zoë: Bianca, hello.

Bianca: You remember my little brother, Nico.

Zoë: Oh, yes, of course. Nice to see you again, little one

Nico, standing next to Bianca: *shyly waves*

Bianca: Nico made something for you. *whispers to Nico* come on, you can give it to her.

Nico, slowly approaches her: *hands over a jar of paper stars*

Zoë: *takes jar of paper stars*

Nico: Thank you for looking after my sister

Zoë: Well, you're very welcome, Nico. This is a very beautiful gift.

---

Nico, entering the Aphrodite Cabin: Piper...

Piper: Hm? Oh, hey, Nico. What's up?

Nico, shyly whispers to her: Can you make me look pretty?

Piper: Why do you want me to make you look pretty?

Nico, fidgeting with his fingers: Will asked me out on a date

Piper and almost all of the Aphrodite Cabin: *gasp*

Piper: Alright girls, we got a code Apollo! Let's move! Move! Move! Let's get this baby ready for his first date!

---

Annabeth: Alright. C'mon, Nico. Time for bed

Nico: Aw, okay. *climbs into bed*

Annabeth, sitting beside him: What story do you want me to read to you today?

Nico: We haven't finished the one about the big cat, the mean old lady, and the box yet.

Annabeth: ...you mean The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe?

Nico: Mhm. We stopped when Edmund went to the mean old lady's castle.

Annabeth: Ah! Then The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe it is!

---

Nico: Rachel!

Rachel: Oh, hey, Nico. Did you need something?

Nico: No, not really. I was making something and Percy said that you might like it. *hands over a box*

Rachel: *takes box and opens it* What is it?

Nico: It's paint! The Demeter kids let me plant sometimes in their garden and I get the flowers and I made them into paint!

Rachel:

Nico: See? The blue one is from Morning Glory flowers, the red one is made from Roses, the yellow one is made out of Marigolds, the orange one is made from Poppies, the purple one is made from the Lilacs, and the green one I made from Leaves!

Rachel:

Nico: :D Do you like it?

Rachel: This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever given me ༼☯﹏☯༽

---

Mark, training Nico: Alright. Here's what's gonna happen. You want a candy bar?

Nico: *nods*

Mark: It's on that table over there. *points to table behind him* To get it, you need to get past me first.

Nico:

Mark: Now, I'm bigger than you. So you need to be smart and think of how-

Nico: *punches Mark in the groin, and pushes him to the side, then goes over to the candy bar*

Mark, on the floor, clutching his groin: Oh, good gods!

Nico, can't open the candy bar: *goes over to Clarisse and shows her the candy bar* Open, please

Clarisse:

Nico: (´｡• ◡ •｡`)

Later during Capture the Flag:

Clarisse: Alright, listen up! If anyone wants to mess with this kid, know that he is under my protection. You wanna mess with him, you go through me first!

Nico: *holding Clarisse's hand, eating a candy bar*

#pjo #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson incorrect quotes #nico di angelo #nico protection squad #thalia grace #bianca di angelo #reyna avila ramirez arellano #piper mclean #annabeth chase #rachel elizabeth dare #zoë nightshade #zoe nightshade #clarisse la rue

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arafilez · 2 months

Text

☆ ⼂ ALL FOR LOVE ﹗

ꔫㅤㅤ ❜ [ skz ot8 x any reader ] ㅤ⋆ ㅤfluff, specific aus for every member 𓏧 alternatively where they ask you out on valentine's ㅤ warnings pet names ㅤ﹢ㅤ1k per member ꔫㅤㅤ ❜ [ og request ] ⋆ friend of a friend/crush skz seeing you read fluff on your phone 🤭💖 - anon. i did change it for valentine's day and made the request a part of the story but not the main one.

◗ ៹ BANG CHAN ›

idol AU! best friends to lovers now playing: sparks fly by taylor swift

Valentine’s Day is stupid! This is the first thought that registers in your mind as you enter the JYP building and see a whole bunch of staff congratulate a couple who you figure got together today. Your pace quickens courtesy of another urging text from Chan lighting up your phone and you groan at his impatience.

Knocking on their practice room door, you patiently await the frisking process before entering it. Your eyebrows scrunch back in confusion when you don’t hear or see anything happen. You knock the second time and nothing! Weird!

Your eyes travel to your phone where the texts from your best friend have stopped coming too, you text him a quick and short sentence about the door not opening. You wait for some more moments before knocking for the third time, and your patience gets better as you twist the room handle.

To your surprise, it opens easily and your frown visibly. Your eyes stray around the dark room as you place your foot in and turn on your phone's flashlight. But before you can do that, the practice room lights up and you look up abruptly and gasp loudly at the banner hanging from the ceiling- “L/n y/n, will you be my valentine?”

“What the-" your voice trails off taking in the low lighting bouncing off the red walls of the room and traces over the rose petals on the floor.

“Will you be my valentine?” You scream in surprise at the voice behind you and turn to see Chan standing there with a box of chocolates and a bouquet of roses on the other hand.

“You like me?” you speak up, words stuttering a lot more than you would like them to and his dimples appear as he smiles saying, “Yes, idiot I do.”

You like Chan, in fact, you like him a lot, to the point where pining over him is painfully obvious to everyone else. But Chan could not know that because he is oblivious enough when it comes to you. Your confusion must have been visible on your face because Chan promptly answers, “I know because I caught you reading a fluff fanfiction the other day during our practice.” A short pose follows and he continues, “About me. And after that, it wasn’t tough to interpret.”

Your face falls, he laughs at your endearing expression, and you whisper, “How?” You are very careful while reading fan fiction and never slip up. Not that you are regretting it right now.

“Mirrors reflect your screen, love,” he smiles, his eyes crinkling into half-moons and you pout in realisation. You look up and suddenly get shy and overwhelmed. The flowers, chocolate, decorations and the day itself come rushing back to you and you realise your best friend has asked you out and you have kept him hanging for the last ten minutes.

“I,” your breath falters before you muster a weak and small, “Yes, I will be,” before happy tears roll down your cheeks. Great, now you are crying like the emotional shit you are.

“Oh baby, don’t cry,” Chan hugs you grinning lightly and placing a kiss on top of your head and you croak, “These are happy tears, Channie.” His laugh vibrates along his body making you happier in his warm embrace, you look up and smile through the glossy eyes and he whispers, “I am sorry it took me so much time to understand, I am so stupid.”

“That you are,” a laugh leaves your throat and he fakes an offended face making you laugh louder and he whispers, “Shut up.” “Make me,” you tease and he chuckles before encasing your lips into a sweet kiss.

◗ ៹ LEE MINHO ›

college AU! enemies to lovers now playing: let me move you by sabrina carpenter

He is beauty, he is grace. He is Lee Minho the menace. Why did you have to pair up with this reincarnation of the devil for a dance project? Your heavy pants echo in the room after you run the practice and look at the clock. Half an hour late!

You know very well he does this to rile you up on purpose because the said boy is the definition of punctuality. He just finds special interest in setting all your nerves on fire. You sigh in annoyance as you plop down on the floor. Scrolling through Instagram you double tap on the posts with every one of your friends posting something with their significant others.

Frankly, you were surprised when Minho asked you to practice with him today. It is Valentine’s Day and according to him his mood will be “sappy” and “tired from fourteenth wheeling his friends” so practising is much better. You have nothing better to do either so you decided to agree.

Which was clearly a mistake.

You scroll absentmindedly before opening up the fanfiction you had left the other day. Resting your head on the wall you put on your ear-pods and start reading. The scene is really cute and you can feel yourself gushing and squealing lightly at the cute behaviour of the leads.

Minho has been watching you quietly gush over it for the past ten minutes loving your giggles. He reads a few lines over your shoulder smiling to himself at the thought of you and him doing it. You seem to like nose kisses and light pecks a lot, he registers as he continues reading from your screen.

You have not seen he has come in and he is thankful as he slides beside you on the floor. You jump up as he rips off one of the ear-pods and slips it inside his ear. All this happens too fast and you squeak trying to hide your phone.

“Lee What the fuck?” you scream but he shrugs you try to snatch back your earpods but he holds your hand saying, “I love this song, finally something you listen to that doesn’t suck,” he grins in a sinister manner and your protest goes to deaf ears as the beats of ‘Let Me Move You’ enters your ears.

Sabrina’s voice fills your ear and Minho glides you to the dance floor in a modern pop couple dance. He twirls you around and you laugh at the cliché steps as he holds you from the back after spinning you. The mischievous smile works its way up on his month and you giggle at the little out-of-routine fun you two are having.

You feel your heart racing as his hands slide down your waist and spin you around he grins matching your smile as you circle your arms around his neck and dance matching the fast beats. The prelude comes and you sway gently and then tap your feet as Minho sings the lyrics lightly making his voice sing-song at the “one, two, three dance with me tonight” line.

Your style matches so well that it makes you feel feral. He really was a great dancer.

The song ends and Minho holds you as you two pant looking at the mirror. The air becomes tense and your heart beats loudly and you blabber out before you can stop yourself, “You have a sweet smile when you are not scowling,” and add, “Not that I see it often.”

Stop talking, your mind screams but you continue, “I don’t like it that much”, liar. Have you noticed him smiling? Yes, the whole ‘enemies’ issue was a huge cliché in your head, and a part of you did hope and pray you would end up like the book couples.

“Yeah I know, you stare at it quite often,” he shrugs nonchalantly and your expression falters in a millisecond yet he never takes his eyes off yours on the mirror and continues, “It is very cliché to like your so-called enemy.”

Your pupils dilate and he chuckles, his soft hair bristling from the cooler of the room and before you can react he spins you and looks at you. Your cheeks grow warm at his intense gaze before he says, “I like you back.”

Your attitude returns with new-found confidence and you reply, “Now who is cliché? Asking me out on Valentine’s Day.” His shoulders shake from the laugh and you grin liking the new dynamic of you two. He dips his head pressing a light kiss on your nose and says, “I am but I can make what you read come true so shh.”

You shyly giggle registering he had earlier caught you reading fluff and pecking his lip you tease him saying, “Don’t make me wait, Lee.”

◗ ៹ SEO CHANGBIN ›

neighbours AU! friends to lovers now playing: dancing in the kitchen by LANY

You stifle a yawn as you struggle to stay awake after a tedious day at work. You curse inwardly at the universe for making you so single. Valentine’s Day and no one to come home to and curl up in their embrace was absolutely cruel however much you try to convince yourself it isn’t.

So when you hear your doorbell ring you are pretty much confused as to who it can be. The pizza you ordered five minutes ago cannot arrive that fast. Walking in your fluffy stickers you open the door and your eyes turn into saucers at the person in front of you.

Your neighbour Seo Changbin is standing there with a pair of CDs in his hand and some clothes in the other. Looking carefully you noticed he also had a single rose under his CDs.

“I know I am fine, but my hands are cramping, so let me in and then gawk all you want,” Changbin deadpans and you quietly let him in the confusion not clearing at all as to why he is here. Shouldn’t he be on a date with someone? Anyone?

“Why are you here?” you ask and he gives you a face before saying, “It is Wednesday, don’t tell me you forgot our ritual.” Your confusion only grows but you still take the rose as he hands it to you saying, “It is Valentine’s Day, I thought it would be rude to not at least bring a flower.”

“Thanks,” you take it, warmth filling your whole face and you look away. Even though he is being really casual about it, everything is just making butterflies flutter in your stomach. Your eyes fall on the CDs and you furrow your eyebrows and it finally hits you.

Oh. Oh.

Changbin, who apparently doesn’t have a date is here to spend his evening with you watching famous movies you haven’t watched before. You two started this ritual because you had randomly blurted it to him and his dramatic ass couldn’t handle you not seeing Mean Girls.

Since then every Wednesday you two watch one famous movie to “catch up” with the generation. You had initially rolled your eyes at his proposal but movie nights with Changbin became better as months went by.

“Don’t think too much and go put these on,” Changbin’s voice cuts in your thoughts and you look down to see pyjamas being handed to you. You don’t question him too much as you go inside and put it on. One thing you have learned is never to question Changbin.

Unless you want to hear a lecture.

You come out and your eyes widen as you realise why he told you to wear those. They were matching pyjamas. Oh. Your body warms up again as you realise you are now wearing matching pyjamas. Like a couple. Watching a movie. On Valentine’s Day. Like a couple.

You throw all thoughts about Changbin liking you behind your mind, he is a friend who helps you out and he is doing the same today. It is nothing much but your beating heart and crush on Changbin fails to live up to your convincement.

You walk towards the couch and watch his muscles flex as he brings the remote and turns on a movie called ‘10 Things I Hate About You’.

Like every other day he turns on the movie but unlike every other day, you find it very hard to focus when there is a whole zoo in your stomach. Just the mere thought of Changbin, who can get any date, spending Valentine’s Day with you is making you go feral. His head whips towards you as soon as you turn towards the screen.

It was a kiss scene. Oh.

You turn your head back to him and find him staring at you with a fiery intensity that you have never seen before. This is new, you think but you don’t miss the way his gaze obviously lingers on your lips before it moves up to your eyes. The air thickens and you hold your breath in mere anticipation.

So it is not only you. The roses and the pyjamas make so much more sense now.

“Changbin, if you want to do it, do it, do it, before we both start to regret it,” you whisper and the last part almost dies in your mouth as he presses his lips to yours. You fist his shirt as his hand caresses your cheek in the soft kiss and you can feel all the unspoken emotion and tension from the past few months.

Heck if you two weren’t so oblivious.

“I have always wanted to do this,” Changbin says, breathless as his lips hover over yours and your eyes hold his gaze and you whisper, “Me too.” He breaks into a grin and you smile lightly running your hands through his hair before he pushes you to the couch kissing you feverishly and the movie long forgotten.

Best Valentine’s ever!

◗ ៹ HWANG HYUNJIN ›

high-school AU! childhood friend to lovers now playing: 2002 by anne-marie

Your lips protrude in despair of your single life as you lean back on your chair and flip through the pages in your phone reading how much one of the leads works throughout Valentine’s Week to get the other lead.

“If you keep reading and sighing you will never get one in real life,” you jump up at Hyunjin’s voice and take a deep breath before deadpanning him. “Shut up,” you tell him and he raises an eyebrow settling down beside you as soon as the bell for first period rings.

The next day your eyes bulge in surprise as a single rose rests inside your locker. You pick it up and see the note attached to it- starting off slow a bit ;).

You narrow your eyes a little at the note and the rose and rack your head for anyone who likes you. The confusion rises when you don’t remember anyone and you suddenly wish it isn’t a prank. You keep the rose inside your bag and the note neatly in your back pocket. Sitting down, you see Hyunjin skip his steps and sit beside you casually whistling and you look at him.

“I got a rose today,” you trail off and he nods saying, “Good to know.”

“No Hyunjin, you don’t get it, what if this is a prank?” you whisper looking around to see if anyone is looking at you two and laughing at your stance. A chuckle escapes his throat as he looks at you saying, “It isn’t a prank.”

You scan his face and tilt your head and Hyunjin quickly amends, “I think.” You shake your head as the teacher enters, still feeling a little down about letting your intrusive thoughts win making you think it is Hyunjin.

The next day you deflate a little seeing nothing inside even though you are vaguely aware it is Propose Day and sigh lightly knowing I might well have just been a prank. Hyunjin seems surprisingly calm about the whole situation, any other time he would have made a whole deal about this and even though it irks you, you brush it off hating the dread in your stomach.

You are proved wrong when you find a box of chocolates the next day, with a note saying- Sorry can’t propose just yet. I hate your sad face, never make it again :(

You open the box hurriedly finding a mix of all kinds of your favourite chocolates and you look in the box, a custom-made one for gifts. Your heart warms at how thoughtful your secret admirer is and how whoever they are, is aware of your preferences. You open the wrap of one and pop it in your mouth, melting at the taste.

The next day you open your locker in anticipation and find a medium-sized teddy inside. Whispers of envy and awe pass through the hall as you lean on the door and read the note- My broke ass could only afford that, sorry. Forgive me?

You scrunch your nose at the cute tone of the letter and you whisper to yourself, “Of course I forgive you.” You skip your steps happily entering your class and see Hyunjin already there doing something with his camera. You stare at him unintentionally, eyes tracing over his flawless features and then feel guilty.

Obviously, someone else is trying to court you now, and you are still hanging over him, your childhood friend. You shake your head again as your mind fills with the possibility of the secret admirer being Hyunjin. No, he cannot be, he hardly seems interested whenever you talk to him about the gifts.

The next three days pass in a blur as your secret admirer makes up for the kiss and hug as a promise for later and you can’t help but feel giddy when Valentine’s Day comes. You try your best to not run to your locker but you end up speed-walking and open it quickly. Your eyes light up at another note from your admirer and you pick it up and read it.

Your brows furrow in confusion at the location mentioned as it was a park you used to go to when you were a kid. With Hyunjin, your mind registers and you push the voice to the back of your mind. Nevertheless, your secret admirer has told you to visit the spot so you will be right at the time mentioned.

The day feels extremely slow and boring and you run out of school when the bell rings. Hyunjin comes out too from his art class with the tube hanging from his shoulders and you hurry him up.

“Geez, what is with the enthusiasm?” he chuckles and you roll your eyes saying, “You would know if you ever listened to me.”

“Listen to you ranting about a person who is head over heels in love with you? I will do it soon,” he smiles and is met with another eye-roll from you as you two start walking. The walk is silent as your mind wanders over a few options on who can ask you out. There was Jongho from music class, Jungmo from Chemistry, Soobin from History, and Han the class president. No, he is after that girl named Alexa.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Hyunjin’s voice snaps you out of your trance but you reply without missing a beat, “A million won and I might tell you something.”

He lets out a light laugh and says, “We are at the place your secret admirer asked you to meet. You get surprised looking around and then the real question comes to your mind- how did Hyunjin know where you were asked to meet?

He can’t know because you didn’t tell him, unless…he is the secret admirer. Your head whips towards his direction and gasp loudly when you see the same paper in his hands. The paper in which the notes were sent.

“Hyunjin oh,” your voice dies down in your throat as you hold it up and a small whimper of emotion leaves your mouth. You open the paper and read the note- We used to play here and I have loved you since the time I knew what love was. Happy Valentine’s y/n

“You- you are, oh my,” your words stumble over and Hyunjin bites his lips smiling at you and you feel the warmth all over your beating heart. It spreads down your body and you find yourself dizzying from the rush of emotions.

“I like you, y/n,” Hyunjin speaks softly and his nose scrunches, his eyes turning into half-moons and he holds you as you look at him with adoration. “I like you too,” you stutter out and he giggles hugging you tighter.

“Now, how about the days we missed?” he speaks softly and you kick him lightly and his giggles tune-up to a full-blown laugh. Just like old times.

◗ ៹ HAN JISUNG ›

royal AU! forbidden lovers now playing: fool’s gold by one direction

The evening sun lights up the sky in hues of golden and red and you sit on the grass in the royal garden opening your book. Being a general for the royal army wasn’t easy, especially for the commander-in-chief. So the breaks you get are the most cherished and thus you prefer to spend them in the garden instead of your quarters.

The peace and quiet, the smell of the flowers, the light buzzing of the bees and the warmth of the sun feel absolutely wonderful as you turn the pages of the book. You giggle lightly at the cute scenes of the romantic novel you are reading and smile when you read about how the leads are absolutely smitten with each other.

“Do not let our enemies see the general giggling like that over a romantic novel,” you turn your head at the familiar voice and raise your eyebrows saying, “Your Highness.”

“How many times have I told you to call me Sungie?” he pouts and you bite your lips restraining your hands from poking his cheeks. He adjusts his hanbok as he sits down and you keep the book beside you to read for later. Right now you have a big baby to attend you. You turn to him and see a pout already adorning his face from the lack of attention.

“What are you doing here, Your Highness?” you ask and he grins, his eyes lighting up as he holds out a flower to you and your eyes widen. “Han, don’t-" You cannot complete your sentence as he puts a finger on your lips and shushes you. You stare at him with parted lips and sigh again.

You cannot be doing this.

He is of royal blood and you are a mere commoner. It doesn’t matter if you are a high-ranking official or not at the end of the day you are not from any kind of royal blood. Heck, the only royal blood you have ever gotten is from killing or hurting royals.

“Since you aren’t saying anything, I will take that as my cue,” you hear him say and before you can protest he gently tucks the flower in your hair.

Your eyes betray every emotion you are feeling when you look at him but Han’s bright smile doesn’t fade as he starts to animatedly tell you how his day went. Apparently, his new History teacher is so boring he fell asleep three times during the class. All while he is talking, you silently listen, your eyes shining with adoration at his enthusiasm.

“Do you know today is what day?” he asks suddenly and you nod. You are aware of different cultures and you read books which doesn’t qualify you as illiterate but Han still asks to be sure.

“You should not be spending it with me Sungie,” you voice out softly and Han lets out a dry chuckle looking away. He doesn’t care, heck he will spend every single Valentine’s Day with you. The rule is to marry a royal blood, there is no rule that it is compulsory to marry.

He will happily stay single his whole life if it means he can spend every day and every night with you.

“I know what you are thinking, but someday you have to see your suitors,” you smile without emotion and just the mere thought of it brings tears to your eyes. How many days have you spent thinking about what will happen when Han finally finds his suitor?

They will marry, that is what will happen.

Han holds your hand and you look at him and he says, “We should run away.” A laugh of disbelief rings through your throat and his mischievous smile returns as soon as he sees you double over in pure and unfiltered laugh at his ridiculous idea.

“That’s how I like you, smiling, for me,” he tilts his head watching you in adoration and you giggle, leaning over to his body and he engulfs you in his arms. Your breath hitches in your throat as you look up and Han does something you have always dreaded and wished at the same time.

“Will you be my Valentine?” he asks and you nod. You know this is wrong, you know you shouldn’t fall for him but when the grin breaks out in his face and you hear his laugh for your affirmation you realise you have never loved anyone more.

And when his sweet lips encase yours you forget every obstacle that will be arising from this blossoming relationship. After all, you can just always run away.

◗ ៹ LEE FELIX ›

brother’s best friend AU! grumpy x sunshine now playing: shower by becky g

Lee Felix Yongbok. The name that is the reason of your doom.

You look at him, your mouth agape as he plays the game in front of him for the thousandth time and still loses. You don’t even know why he is here, your brother left more than half an hour ago with his date. You have been stuck watching him gaming because it is so amusing.

Felix has always been bad at games and it is no secret. It is not like your brother or his other friends were great but watching Felix play a game was more fun than watching a comedy series. Speaking of him, he throws the controller down, a string of colourful curses leaving his mouth.

You had enough.

Sure he looks hot while cursing, and sure his arms flexing as he presses the controls makes you want to do unnameable things to him, or let him do to you, whichever works, and sure his blonde hair makes you want to run your hand over them while you press light kisses over his face, but you finally had enough.

You sign in annoyance when he picks up the controller again and you snatch it out of his hand, yanking open the cable from the plug point and look at him. He smiles brightly when he sees your grimacing face and jokes, “Come on grumpy don’t glare at me like that.”

“First, Jisung left over an hour ago, so what the hell are you doing here?” you hold up your hand when he opens his mouth to speak and then continue, “Second, it is Valentine’s Day, don’t you have anything better to do than play LoL? And thirdly, Felix give up god you are bad at gaming.”

He pouts and you roll your eyes at him. Everyone in your brother’s friend circle how straightforward you are. Jisung has tried to set you up with Felix because according to him you are in desperate need of some “sunshine” in your life.

Fuck him and his sunshine.

He is the reason anyway you think about Felix so much and develop a crush on him. It is purely because of him you think about Felix and whenever he is around you smile, feel like a thousand fireworks going off when he smiles, and do pathetic things like singing love songs in the shower and dancing in front of the mirror.

All the more reason to hate Han Jisung.

“I am spending the day with you, aren’t I?” Felix winks and you gasp at his answer. He casually gets up and you look behind as he pours himself a glass of water and you close your eyes calming yourself. You cannot be more delusional about his casual flirting than you already are.

He walks off to Jisung’s room and you exhale, hating for even being born. The way his words have set your whole face on fire should be researched. Hell Felix can graze his hands casually and you will be firing up for no reason. You open your phone in frustration and scroll until you find a fluff fanfiction you feel like reading.

The reader kisses the person’s freckles.

Cringe.

You will definitely read it.

And do it to Felix, your mind screams and you want nothing more than to punch your mind. You keep reading trying to focus on the story and not think how it is so fitting with Felix.

“For someone always scowling you like reading stuff that makes normal people giggle,” a deep voice interrupts your reading and you jump as Felix slides beside you, still grinning. You hate yourself for how your eyes instantly dropped to his freckles. They looked like stars littered along his cheekbones and you would want nothing more than pressing kisses all over them.

Stop it.

You force yourself to look into his eyes and it doesn’t help a lot since they look like a whole galaxy of stars. How can someone’s eyes hold so much adoration and spark?

“Why are you looking at my freckles?” he chuckles but you can sense the tinge of insecurity behind it and the answer rolls off your lips before you can stop yourself, “If I was yours I would just spend the day kissing them.”

Your eyes widen and you want the ground to swallow you whole while Felix's loud laugh fills the room. You look at him and the way his nose scrunches and soft hair falls on his lashes as he continues laughing and asks, “Is that a line from the thing you were reading?”

“No, stop it,” you whine and your ears, heck, your whole body feels on fire as you look at Felix who is smiling and looking at you. “You say that but you look at me like this,” you pout and it takes all of his strength to not press his lips to yours right then and there.

“Like what?” he asks and you glare half-heartedly but he continues, “If you mean like I am head over heels for you, then yes, I do look at you like that.”

Your breath gets stuck in your throat and you don’t trust your voice too much but you blabber out, “Don’t ask me out on Valentine’s, that’s cliché as hell.”

“I can do all kinds of cliché things for you though,” Felix’s smiles brighten and you feel your heart beating at an unhealthy rate. Is this a heart attack? Will you die now? But his next sentence almost make you pass out if he was not holding you.

His breath mingles with yours as he asks with his lips inches away from yours, “Kissing on Valentine’s is a bit cliché too right?”

◗ ៹ KIM SEUNGMIN ›

roommate AU! friends to lovers now playing: i like me better by lauv

You put on your earphones and sit down on the couch reading the latest update on fanfiction from your favourite author. You place the cup of hot coffee on the table beside and get comfortable on the couch. You check the time on your phone and realise it is still some hours till Seungmin comes home from his practice.

With your lack of a date for Valentine’s, you have decided reading is the best way to solve all your wanted desires and cute scenarios while Seungmin, who claims he also had a lack of date (he didn’t, you literally saw him rejecting people) will be at vocal practice with his friend Jeongin.

You giggle when you read the fluffy scenes, kicking your feet and giggling to your heart’s content. You do not notice Seungmin returning at all and he understands that when you don’t reply when he calls your name. Seungmin runs a hand through his hair as he enters and his confused gaze falls over you sprawling on the couch.

He chuckles at how cute you are behaving and how cute you look in the oversized hoodie. He places his practice bag down, walks behind you and looks at your screen loving how oblivious of his presence. His mischievous side acts up and he starts reading loudly from the line he can see, “He places a soft kiss on the forehead, then traces them down the yes, and the nose, to the lips of-“

Your eyes open wide in shock and you jerk up and three incidents happen at the same time- you scream at Seungmin, one of your earpods falls off and the coffee in your hand spills over your clothes and hand.

You hiss at the burning sensations on your palm and thumb and Seungmin’s eyes widen as he pulls you by your hand. “Min what?” you ask confusedly as he sprints with you to the kitchen sink and throws your hand under the cold water. You look at him in shock, unable to process how quickly the situation escalated.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry,” he murmurs and his fingers run over your burnt area under the water. Well almost-burnt. The coffee wasn’t that hot and it would not even escalate to a first-degree burn.

“Min, hello to you too,” you joke and he grimaces upset at himself for causing such a situation. You open your mouth to say you are fine but he shushes you and makes you sit on the kitchen counter. He brings down the first-aid box and slightly blows on the region. The action releases a whole cage of butterflies in your stomach and his concerned face over a little harm makes your heart tighten.

“I am sorry, I didn’t mean-“ his sentences is interrupted as you put your finger over his lips and say what you have been trying to say for the last fifteen minutes, “Minnie, I am fine.”

“Are you sure? I think we need to give some more ice,” he murmurs but before he can drift away, again, you pull him by his arms against your body. Seungmin stumbles over his feet and you giggle at his confused puppy behaviour before repeating your sentence, “Minnie, I swear I am fine.”

“Okay,” he complies and you laugh before saying, “You are too cute trying to take care of me, you know?” His nose scrunches and he puts his arms around your waist and murmurs, “I don’t want you getting hurt.”

His tugs lightly on your waist and you tip forward getting close to him and your breath hitches at the proximity. His caramel eyes look so beautiful up close that you never want to look away. You can get lost in his eyes. Literally.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he whispers, the tension thickening as his body presses to yours and warmth spreads over your cheek but you whisper back, “Like what?”

“Like you want to never let me go,” he says and his breath fans your face as you make out the little details of his face. His hold tightens around your waist and you find yourself replying, “Maybe I don’t.”

His eyes roam over your features and land on your lips and that gives you the courage to lean in. Seungmin takes the cue and presses his lips to yours in a sweet kiss. You hum kissing him back as you feel him smiling through the kiss. Your lips move together perfectly just like they fit like two missing puzzle pieces.

Seungmin’s hands caress your waist and you fist his shirt lightly and when you finally pull back a big grin breaks along his face making you laugh along. You sway lightly in his arms and a teasing smile reaches your lips as you ask the cringiest question existing to mankind.

“How about you kiss my wound better too?”

◗ ៹ YANG JEONGIN ›

office AU! co-workers to lovers now playing: silver tongues by louis tomlinson

What is better than working after-hours on Valentine’s Day? Absolutely fucking nothing. You sigh at your unfortunate state and continue typing on the computer finishing up the last slide for your colleague’s presentation who has clocked off as it was Valentine’s.

It was just two slides but you being the perfectionist you were couldn’t just leave it like that and thus completed it fully. After you are finished you huff and lean back on the chair. The creaking noise echoes in the empty office and you look around. Your desk was comparatively closer to the glass window of the building.

That is now giving you the perfect view of the streets decorated with pink and red fairy lights and the couples walking below. The street is buzzing with love and it is making you feel lonely. Another year, another day, you think. It will pass.

Swiping open your phone you quietly check through your notifications, most of them your work emails or bank account reports and sighing you clear them out. You swipe up a few notifications from your friends and some garbage notifications like the weather.

What the hell are you going to do with knowing the weather at eight in the night!

Your eyes fall over a particular notification- the update of a book chapter you have been waiting for. You eye the office once again. Alone. Swivelling in your chair you open your work computer and login through your account in Incognito. Nothing better than reading on a big screen.

You lean back satisfied and read it feeling giddy at the scenes the author has written. The kisses and the hugs are so satisfactorily written you feel literal butterflies reading them.

“Reading stories on a work computer, should I be reporting this?” you jerk up at the familiar voice and are instantly met with a pair of foxlike eyes. His mouth presses together trying to suppress a smile as you tried to hurriedly close the tab in the computer.

When you are done you take a long breath and look towards him and ask, “What are you doing here?” An amused smile reaches his lips but he answers nevertheless, “Came to take some files.” You nod your head but can’t look away from his face. The low light of the office casts a warm glow on his defined cheekbones and a light shade on his dyed caramel hair.

It is not like you and Jeongin were friends, but you weren’t acquaintances either. You two were somewhere in between and given his bright smile and even brighter personality nobody can hate him.

“Don’t you have a date?” Jeongin asks casually still holding onto your gaze and you chuckle shaking your head. Your love life is basically DOA. He sighs in relief unknowingly and before he can stop himself he continues, “Do you want to catch up with dinner?”

You whip your head towards him so fast that he stutters and blabbers, “I mean not today if you are busy, someday later or we can forget I said it.”

Did Yang Jeongin, the man who works in an office with his prim and proper attire, wears glasses, but dyes his hair for style and is the eye candy of more than half the office, ask you out on a date?

“Today’s fine,” you blurt out and you see the red blush spread from his nose to his cheeks. You are sure you are blushing too and you look away trying to arrange the already-made files. Jeongin stutters out an okay and keeps quiet, the awkward silence hanging as you quickly tidy up.

Ten minutes and an awkward elevator ride later you and Jeongin are walking down the decorated streets and attempting small talk which gradually are beginning to loosen you two up. You talk about your favourites and he talks about his own funny incidents, mostly with his older brother Minho.

You two enter a bar and order a drink each simply sitting down. By the time your drinks arrive the loud tempo has reduced to a slow song and you gasp in shock. This is your favourite song. You look at Jeongin who sips on his drink slightly, his glasses resting a little low on his nose and messy hair sprawling over his forehead.

One drink cannot make you tipsy but you blame it on the drink anyway when you ask, “Do you want to dance to this?” If Jeongin is surprised by the request, he doesn’t show it and nods, a small smile creasing up his cheeks.

He takes your hand and you twirl around the dance floor. Feeling a little bolder you circle your arms around his neck and sway to the beats of the song. All the time Jeongin never takes his eyes off yours and you feel yourself flustering under his intense gaze. His eyes trace your features and linger lightly on your lips before returning to your eyes.

The moment is so intense it makes you light-headed and his musky deodorant infiltrating your senses didn’t help at all. As the song finishes, Jeongin is unable to look away but he lets go reluctantly.

You miss his warm flush against your skin already but it returns as soon as he says, “If you don’t mind, do you want to catch a proper dinner tomorrow?”

ꔫㅤㅤ ❜ [ ara's note ] ㅤ⋆ ㅤthis is kind of a personal favourite and even though I have no one to spend Valentine’s with I love being delusional lol. I enjoyed writing these too much and so I would really appreciate feedback and reblogs. my personal favourite is Felix even though he isn’t my bias but it was my first time trying grumpy x sunshine and I loved it so much. Happy Valentine’s everyone ꔫㅤㅤ ❜ [ taglist ] ㅤ⋆ ㅤ@haneagerr @jeonghanfr ﹢ beta readingㅤ@kyrjnie @haneagerr ㅤmain mlistㅤ skz listㅤ navi ㅤ add to taglist

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