#[ walks in after months of inactivity only to turn around and leave ]

[halaboyz]

goodnight, dear. — psh

pairing: non-idol! park sunghoon x fem! reader genre: ANGST word count: 16.5k warnings: profanities. reader has illness. simple medical jargons. medical inaccuracies. major character death.

notes: inspired by two filipino books entitled "seven days with miss stalker" written by dara nakahara and "she's dating the gangster" by bianca bernardino.; reader is part of a religion; not discussed, only said for prayers and for giving thanks a/n: ever so dedicated to my now-inactive moot @junjungsunwoo yena <3 it was supposedly part of a collab which was posponed because we all went on a hiatus but! i proceeded with it <3 i love and appreciate all of you <3 tag: @kflixnet

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

summary: befriending the ice prince of your school in the middle of the semester abruptly was something you'd never do. so it takes a little bit of life and time before you do, then bravely asking him to date you for a month. that's all- and you promised you'll leave him alone.��

｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ 。 listen now to: spotify. 　ﾟ･｡･ﾟ

D-105.

Just like usual, you head to your seat at the corner of the cafeteria, munching quietly on your brunch beside your best friend. 

“He’s coming!” Both  of you hear a screech and continuous cheers as a huge crowd of girls run outside, candies, chocolates, and sweet things in their hands as they welcome the ice king of your campus. “Sunghoon!” Park Sunghoon. “Sunghoon, you must be sad. Take this! It will help cheer you up!” A girl stands out from the rest, almost shoving the lollipop on Sunghoon’s face. 

He does nothing but continue walking, tailed by his friends with a chuckle that gethered their own small batch of fangirls. 

“Pathetic.” Seol-in mutters beside you, shaking her head. You immediately look at her with a glare, “Oops.” She chuckles, raising her arms in defense. “Forgot I have another fan here.” 

“To say I’m a fan is too much. I only like him.” You mutter, taking your eyes off of him after a few seconds. And then glancing again. Which made Seol-in chuckle.

“Yeah. That’s what fans do. Like a person.” She explains sarcastically, making you roll your eyes. 

“Then I’m not that obsessed.” You point at the group of girls, “I have my respect and dignity for myself intact to do that. Much more when he’s fresh out of a break up.” 

Seol-in stops eating and perks up when she hears you explain, eyebrows meeting in the middle and slowly turning to look you in the eyes.

“And how do you know that Miss ‘I’m not a fan’?” A smirk was drawn on her lips which made you cough, not meeting her eyes. 

“Just here and there.” 

“Hmm. Here and there. Don’t you think if it was here and there, I would’ve known?” Seol-in raises her brows and taps on the table, knowing that it was going to make you more irritable since it was your ick.

“Fine! Sunghoon posted a story on Instagram with a picture of him partying with a caption ‘single again!’ Are you satisfied?!” You unintentionally burst out,  glaring at Seol-in who was now tight-lipped. 

Quite literally. Lips pressed together, she motions you to not look back but stupidity got the best of you that you understood it as turn around. And so you do.

Sunghoon, standing with his tray of food in hand, was looking down at you. 

“So much for broadcasting my love life status,” Sunghoon deadpans, before moving on to sit on the table next to yours. 

It makes you internally shake your head and curse yourself, turning back to face your own food in shame as you hear relentless mocking of his fans. 

“Not like he didn’t post a story captioned ‘I’m single and ready to mingle again!’” Seol-in defended you, shamelessly scaring his fans off with a thugged appearance. You nudge her, making her stop. 

It was just another day of being you. 

D-104.

“Code Blue, Code Blue! Room 316, Female, 21 years old. Code Blue, Code Blue! Room 316, Female, 21 years old…” You hear the speakers call out as everything follows is a slur, your eyes blurring as you struggle to keep sane. You don’t even feel like you were breathing. Were you? All you felt was pain. Excruciating pain the first few minutes and then you were numb. You were numb when nurses and doctors jumped restlessly on you to perform chest compressions. 

It only felt like yesterday when you were quietly sitting on all of your classes, 

It was only yesterday.

“Did you do anything that tired you out? How come you let it get this bad?” The familiar doctor you’d been seeing since you were a kid nags, shaking his head at you. 

“I didn’t.” You retort immediately, regretting it as the sudden jump made your chest tighten, making you grab it. Your doctor assists you back into your bed, snickering at you. 

“Well then, did you watch a sad movie? Felt too happy? Felt too excited? Surprised?” When the temporary pain slowly disappears, you avoid the doctor’s eyes as you mumble a small ‘no.’ “Y/n… We’ve talked about this…” 

“Am I not a person? Why am I not able to feel things as I want to?” You pout, but it was the same line you’ve always said since you were also a kid. And also, the very first question you’ve asked your doctor. When you catch a glimpse of his apologetic eyes, you grow uncomfortable. “I was kidding. I get it.” 

Your dad was watching you from afar, picking on his nails and was still until the doctor called him in. 

“Can I talk to you alone for a sec?” The doctor signals to your father, urging privacy which makes you curious. 

“I’m an adult,” You open, suddenly growing anxious at how your father and the doctor shared gazes. “Please say it in front of me,” 

D-101. 

As the clock strikes 12, you swallow the lump on your throat as the doctor clears his, asking your dad for one last confirmation before he drops the news. 

“As you can see, y/n is neither getting stable or better,” The doctor drops his head, unwilling to see your father’s heartbroken eyes and yours. “...only worse,” 

You heave a deep sigh, balancing your emotions out so as to not feel too sad about this and not to dwell on what’s to come next.

“Y/n… Doesn’t have much time left,” And there comes the shock. Maybe you shouldn’t have really known. If you didn’t, then you wouldn’t be too anxious about living just another day. Your dad weeps, holding your hand desperately as you both feel the world fall on you. “I’d say three months… or less,” The doctor falls his head in shame, pressing his lips together and avoiding both of your eyes. 

D-97. 

“You really want to do this?” Your father asks, bringing your bag to you. “Y/n… You don’t need to. We can travel where you want, eat what you want and do whatever you want.”

“Dad… I’d rather live with the time I have left as a normal person, as I had always done. Wherein I have to go to school on dreaded Mondays, feel happy it’s Friday, and enjoy my Saturdays with my friends or with you, along with Sundays. I’d be thankful to even have that, Dad.” You smile, holding your Dad’s shoulders and pulling him to a hug. “Thank you, Dad.” 

Your father holds his tears and proudly stands his guards on you. Nodding as he arranges your collar back into place and letting you go your way after a few sermons. 

“Y/n!” Seol-in welcomes you with open arms, snot running down her nose and tears out of her eyes. “Are you okay? Why did you even come here?!” She squeezes you into a hug, making you squirm and chuckle. 

“Hey, don’t be so dramatic now. As you can see, I’m okay. I’m good, I’m fine.” You explain, hitting your limbs to show her that you’re indeed thriving. 

She whines and pulls you into a hug again, and you just let her until she’s calmed down, walking to your first class.

“So, what did the doctor say?” 

“Hmm,” You hesitate, thinking whether to break the news or not. You opted it wasn’t the right setting. “Nothing new. I just had a burst out that’s why I had the attack. Sorry for worrying you,” You pout, clinging to her arm and changing to another topic as you found available seats.

She assures you and swears to look after you better as you wait for the class to start, your eyes roaming around to take in the sight. You act like it’s your last day. You wish you could be here for much longer. But you know you’d be taken any time from now on. 

Your breath stops exaggeratedly when you realize the available seat next to you was pulled to reveal Sunghoon sitting next to you uninterestedly, not batting you an eye. Seol-in nudges you knowing perfectly well how you’re not managing.

“Deep breaths, y/n! Control your heart!” Seol-in lightheartedly whispers, rubbing your back. You lean back at your seat to get a glance at Sunghoon, who only had eyes on his phone. You breathe through pursed lips, rubbing your chest as if it made a difference on your abnormally beating heart.

It’s just sitting next to you, what’s the big point?

See, the big point is, through the years you’d been blockmates with this man, fate had never ever brought you near each other even if you were given the smallest classrooms. So it was indeed a big deal that someone you’ve liked throughout the years was now beside you. 

Say, you’d be brazen enough to even claim this as a sign to finally get to talk to him. You’d always been the ambivert, so this time, it was time to bring out your extrovert-ness just to get close to him. 

Not going to hurt to try, eh?

“Hi Sunghoon,” You smile, fully facing him as you put your chin on your palm to lean on the table. He curiously, confusedly gives you a glance, blinking at you. “You look good today,” Your confidence was also a great shock to you, knowing full well that if it was the last-week-you that was in this situation, you wouldn’t have uttered even one word.  

“Y/n, you’re creeping me out.” Sunghoon mumbles, scooting away from you. You chuckle, shaking your hands before him.

“Sorry, I just wanted you to know.” Seol-in watches in horror, just as confused as Sunghoon. You fumble back on your seat after that, smiling at Seol-in and even chuckling at yourself for your unpredictableness. You think that was enough for today.

At least, if it were your last, you had the opportunity to make him feel appreciated in the most weird way, at a random time possible. 

Because come on, fuck it! Where your tomorrow isn’t even guaranteed, what more could you lose than regret?

D-94.

“Your partners are revealed in our respective group chats, so start immediately,” Your professor leaves after her last remarks, and all of you start to check your phones for your partners. You hear grunts and cheers, and as for you…

“Oh yeah!” You growl, raising your fist in the air as if you’ve just won the lottery. Everyone stops and grows quiet, looking at you horridly. “Oops, sorry.” You smile, your eyes searching for that one guy you heard grunting a while ago. “...Park Sunghoon!” You coo, making your way towards him cheekily. 

Sunghoon just looks in confusion, weirded out by how you were acting since two days ago. “Are you possessed? What is up to you these days? We’re never really close and talked so…” His face said it all, he was confused to his bones. 

“Is it bad that I wanted to be friends with you?” You invite yourself to the seat next to him, plopping. “It’s our last year in college, I want to be close to everyone!” 

“After all these years? How about no?” Sunghoon again, scoots further from you and starts skimming through his book, trying to get the project over with just ten minutes in from the second he read the instructions. 

“No? You don’t want to be friends?” You pout, confidence significantly decreasing… and increasing with your idea.

“Hmm, I don’t want to. So don’t waste your time,” Sunghoon sighs and continues with his work.

“If you don’t want to…” You mumble… scooting closer and in front of him to cover the book with your palm, getting his attention. You give him the cheekiest smile you can give, “Then do you want to be my boyfriend?” 

D-90.

“Then just give me one month! Be my boyfriend for a month! That’s it and I wouldn’t even go five meters close to a piece of your hair!” You argue, as if your deal offer was making sense. It had been one week since you have been offering a deal to Sunghoon, and not much like the first time he heard it– where his jaw dropped and sneered at you as if you had just lost your mind. Now, where you sit confidently against him as he quietly has his lunch, he doesn’t even spare you and your bullshit a glance. “Park Sunghoon!” You whine, throwing a fit. It gains a lot of attention including his fangirls who you genuinely heard growling, which made you fake a cough and glare at him. “I’m not done with you just yet,” You drop your hand on the table, making him groan and roll his eyes.

Seol-in watches how you trudge back to your shared table, scratching her head.

“Hey y/n, have you really really lost your mind?” She asks with such genuine voice and concern, grabbing your hand. “Why the hell are you asking Park Sunghoon out for a week already? That’s not you,” 

“It’s definitely me, Seol-in.” You chuckle, patting her hand. “And what’s so wrong about a girl asking a man out? Stop being prejudiced!” You take a spoonful of your food, watching Seol-in. “Just eat already,” 

“I just don’t get it. There’s something wrong,” She shakes her head but leaves it to you, knowing full well you know what you’re doing. “But no!” She exclaims, making you jump. “Just last week we were talking about how you’re not even that obsessed and how you’re so defensive about being one of his fangirls!” 

“But I did admit that I liked him,” You chuckle, proving your point.

“But! I don’t think it was enough that you ask him out! Above all that, when he’s fresh out of a break up!” You stop, letting Seol-in’s words sink in. She was right. Sunghoon was fresh out of a break up and you just had to add up to the girls jumping in on him. 

“Ah, I don’t know! I’ll do whatever,” You shake it off, continuing to munch on your food as Seol-in continues to berate you. 

D-80. 

“Sunghoon, I’m not saying this because I have a big self-esteem and ego but, I don’t think you notice this.” You flip your hair exaggeratedly, even though he wasn’t looking at you. You were at a quiet corner in the library, allegedly working on your project. “...but I’m a really good pick!” Sunghoon snorts and finally looks at you in amusement, and you straighten your posture as if you were in an interview.

“You? A good pick?” Sunghoon repeats, and you nod.

“I really am! I’m pretty, I have my acads with straight A’s, I have a good relationship with my family! What more can you ask for?” You arrogantly list out your pros, crossing your arms right after. 

“And your cons?” Sunghoon mimics your movement, as if trying to challenge you. 

“I don’t have one.” You avoid his eyes for a second, because if you listed that out too, it will outnumber your pros. “So please give me one month of your life,” You exaggerate, begging as you rub your palms together in front of him. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” 

“I’m completely being sincere and serious, though.” You were close to whining once again, flapping your arms around. 

“You don’t look like it,” Sunghoon sighs and gets back to your project, possessing a small smirk that ticked you off. 

“Come on, Park Sunghoon!” 

“Y/n.” Sunghoon sternly stops your whining, looking straight into your eyes. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but please don’t take it out on me. I’m not interested. If you keep doing this, it will grow on me that you’re taking advantage of my vulnerability since I was just out of a relationship and I don’t want to think that of you,” He explains with such a solemn face that you grow embarrassed of your actions immediately, shrinking on your seat. “I’m sorry but can we please proceed to the project now?” 

You harbor a pout and unintentionally have it until you were done, cleaning your things up. 

“Can you stay here for a bit? I’ll just go get something.” You leave Sunghoon before he could even say something, leaving your  things to assure him you were coming back. You only grab your phone and wallet, traveling to the closest cafe. When you travel back to the library, you catch a glimpse of Sunghoon through the large windows, legs impatiently bouncing as he looks around for you. 

“Okay. If he’s not for me then he’s not for me.” You mumble, sighing and proceeding to jog inside the library and go straight to the table. You put the cup of drink and slide it across the table, nodding at him. “Iced vanilla latte. Your favorite right? I’ve seen you order these a lot,” You heave a deep sigh. He raises an eyebrow before he takes it, “That’s not a bribe. That’s an apology gift.” Sunghoon takes a sip and confusingly looks up to you, “Sorry if I made you uncomfortable. That wasn’t my intention at all.” 

“Y/n,” Sunghoon starts but you cut him off with a pat on the shoulder, giving him a tight lipped smile.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Get home safely!” You get your things quickly and wave goodbye, getting your things and not giving him a chance to talk. 

Leaving Sunghoon with a bitter taste in his mouth and it’s definitely not because of the coffee.

D-76.

“Oh y/n, good thing you’re here,” Sunghoon starts, wanting to talk the heavy feeling in his chest out since the library incident. 

“Sunghoon! Don’t worry about it, I’ve finished everything on the project! We can pass it later already,” 

“That’s not it,” Sunghoon stops you by the arm but you look at your watch as if you were in a rush.

“Sorry, but I have to run. You can text me if you see any mistakes on my part, I’ll correct it immediately.” You apologize and Sunghoon lets you go and nods at you, thinking it wasn’t the right time yet to apologize if he had offended you. 

Sunghoon has been bearing it in his chest and mind that he shouldn’t have put you out like that, blaming his stress that was on its peak that day.

Heeseung chuckles as he looks at Sunghoon’s eyes which never leave your figure until it completely disappears, but having to opt not to say anything about it first.

D-72.

“Y/n!” Sunghoon shouts through the hallway, making you stop and hide your face. “Y/n!” He repeats, and you hear him run to chase you. You sigh, deciding to just face him instead. 

“Oh, Sunghoon,” You smile, turning to face him. “Do you need something?” Knowing you’ve completed your project with him and nothing more, so it was a given that you’re confused. He had clear intentions he didn’t want to be friends, so why does he keep chasing you down everywhere you go?

“Are you free for lunch?” He fumbles with the books in his hand, avoiding your eyes.

“I was going to go with Seol-in, as always,” You chuckle, “Why? Did we need to revise something in the project?” 

“Ah… no. But can we talk for a minute, then?” He lets out a small sigh,  hands already asking you to follow him in a space where nobody was. You nod hesitantly, just following him then.

“What is it? You sound serious,” You follow him to your now empty classroom, sitting on the seat out front. He leans on the table in front of it, and heaves another sigh. 

“I was trying to get a hold of you the past few days but you’ve been busy,” He finally lets out a chuckle, nodding at you. “I wanted to apologize about what I said in the library that time. I was out of line,” He admits his wrong immediately, smiling at you. 

You finally let out a sigh of relief, now knowing what was on his mind. 

“Sunghoon, why are you apologizing for that? I should be. I was the one out of line.” You assure him, shaking your hands in his face. “Do you know how I’ll feel if you apologize for something I did?” 

“No, no. It was just weighing my mind and I didn’t want you to think that I thought bad of you. You said that your intentions weren’t that so maybe I went off the wrong way how I said it.” He holds your hand to stop you from shaking it in front of him, feeling his warmth engulf your hands.

“Fine, fine. Then we’re even already. That will do it, won't it?” You smile at him, craning your neck until you get an answer for him. 

“I owe you a coffee. I’ll treat you next time,” He pats your hand, smiling back at you. 

“I don’t drink coffee, so there’s no need. Let’s just eat lunch and leave all this in the past, alright?” You realize he’s still holding your hand which makes you slowly take yours back, smiling and patting his shoulder once again. “Let’s go?” 

D-70. 

Sunghoon’s curiosity towards you grew and grew the moment your interactions blew less and less, only decreasing to hi’s and hello’s and his days were a lot bland without your yapping and blabbering. Even though you had only done this for a week, it had grown on him especially because you weren’t initially close at all. 

“Why does my friend look especially troubled today?” Heeseung drops his body towards the man, plopping beside him on the bean bag. “Something bothering you?”

“I don't think so,” But Sunghoon keeps on staring afar, unbothered to look at his concerned friend. 

Which is giving him a stink eye now.

“You know what, fine, don't tell me. Mister I keep everything to myself because I’m a cool guy and cool guys don't have problems,” Heeseung nags, mocking Sunghoon’s usual deadpanned face with a sneer. 

Sunghoon chuckles lowly and sighs, shaking his head at Heeseung.

“I’m just confused. That’s all.” He explains, making Heeseung look back at him in anticipation. A few quiet seconds pass and Heeseung sighs in frustration, throwing the pillow in Sunghoon’s chest.

“Oh come on! That’s it?! Tell me everything! You’re driving me crazy!” 

“What…” Sunghoon mumbles with a chuckle, looking at Heeseung losing his mind as he flaps his limbs around. “Okay, okay.” He deeply sighs again, playing with his fingers. “It’s about y/n.” 

“Finally! Wait, what?” Heeseung internally screams, but displays a face of confusion, raising his eyebrows at Sunghoon. “You’ve finally gotten rid of her within a week, what do you mean when you say it’s about y/n and that you’re confused?” 

Sunghoon clicks his tongue and props himself to look at Heeseung face to face, showing seriousness and his determined face to understand every bit of what he’s feeling now. 

“Exactly.” Sunghoon nods at Heeseung as if he’s waiting for an answer, and when he gets nothing, he nods again for Heeseung’s confirmation. 

“What do you want me to say, dumbass?” He throws a pillow right through Sunghoon’s head, and as he’d like to describe, so fucking frustrated.

“Stop hitting me! And I don’t know! That’s why I’m confused!” Sunghoon, also frustrated, has laid out his empty hands to Heeseung to show he’s got nothing to offer than that.

“I ought to just smack you in the fucking face, really.” Heeseung suppresses his annoyance and just massages his temples, rolling his eyes so hard he saw the back of his head. “Tell me something so I can say something too, you know,” 

“I just… I don’t know, Seung. I think it’s my fault too.” Sunghoon explains, “Just a few weeks ago, we started talking because of that damned project. Not even one week  in and she asks me to be his boyfriend. I decline. Also becoming her friend. And then I shoot her something offensive and air shifts and then suddenly she’s not talking to me anymore that much and I apologize and I don’t know, we’re friends?” He rambles on, and it takes a little more patience out of Heeseung to not pull his hair out. 

“So, what the fuck’s confusing?” Heeseung asks through gritted teeth. Admit it, dumbo! He thinks.

“Are we friends or not? Am I allowed to keep it casual and talk about random things with her or am I just supposed to smile and greet and walk off? That’s confusing.” As if a light bulb has just turned on inside his head, Sunghoon perks at the clear question that’s been allegedly bugging him. 

But on the other hand, oh he’s stupid-stupid. Heeseung thinks.

“Didn’t you decide to put it behind you? Then you could answer the question yourself, Hoon! You could come up to her casually and just whatever,” Heeseung still gives him a light piece of advice, knowing it’s not the right time to put mind into Sunghoon’s actions. 

“Maybe, I guess.” Sunghoon hesitantly nods, finally letting peace take over his mind and say fuck it. 

D-68.

“Seol-in, do you know what time Physics starts?” You randomly ask, at a random time in the middle of the day, in the middle of a random lunch, at a random table. 

“In twenty minutes,” A manly voice took over your random conversation, making you look up. You see Sunghoon and Heeseung gently placing their trays of food beside you and Seol-in, scrunching your forehead in confusion. “Sorry, were the seats taken?” 

“Absolutely not,” Seol-in answers, cheeks full of food but harboring the same expression as you. The two men nod and sit, starting with their food. She kicks your shin lightly below the table and as you shake your shoulders lightly, you just decide to continue with your food in silence.

“I’m sorry, did we scare you?” Heeseung chuckles, glancing at you. He was sitting diagonally in front of you, beside Seol-in. 

“Oh, no. You’re cool,” You chuckle as well and shake your hands in front of you, finishing your food just as they did. Sunghoon glances weirdly at you, seeing how well you blend in with people you don’t even really talk to, just like with him. “Were we weird?” You carry on with the conversation, eyes staying at Heeseung only. 

“We definitely felt your eyes on us,” Heeseung jokes around, and stands up the same time you do to return your trays. Seol-in and Sunghoon watch in horror how you both click, just like two peas in a pod. You and Heeseung both laugh when you realize it, going together to the booth to return your trays.

“Wow, did I move down y/n’s best friend list just like that?” Seol-in says as her eyes stay at the both of you walking away, the same Sunghoon was doing. 

“Same,” Sunghoon shakes his head in disapproval, going with Seol-in awkwardly to tail the both of you. 

It ends up as you and Heeseung share a light conversation, Seol-in and Sunghoon are quietly following. Sunghoon had a plan in mind but it was not this. And Heeseung knows that. So he coughs exaggeratedly, catching everyone’s attention. He shares a short look with Heeseung (a bit of a glare as for Sunghoon) and Heeseung makes up a not-so-obvious excuse to get him and Seol-in out of the picture. 

“Oh, Seol-in! I think we forgot to pay for our lunch a while ago,” Good going, Sunghoon thought. “We should head back,” Heeseung pulls a confused Seol-in by the arm.

“I did, though?” Seol-in furrows her brows and rethinks whether she did or not, and she was positive she did.

“We should go to be sure. I didn’t see you pay a while ago,” 

“We can come with you,” You offer, but…

“No!” Sunghoon suddenly shouts, making you jump in surprise, glaring at him. 

“Why?” You question. Are you and Seol-in are the only ones so fucking confused right now? 

“We’re going to be late.” Sunghoon excuses, eyes looking around in hysteria.

“I think we have enough time,” 

“Just go, y/n. Save us some seats,” Seol-in finally jumps on the train, feeling too anxious about leaving the cafeteria without paying for what she ate. 

You hesitantly nod, urging Sunghoon to come, which finally made him sigh in relief. 

“Are you guys okay?” You ask, sitting on your usual seat while Sunghoon took the one next to you. You both save Seol-in and Heeseung seats beside you. “And now you’re also sitting with us?”

“Weren’t we always?” He shakily chuckles, and your suspicion grows bigger. 

“Did you do something wrong to us, perhaps?” 

“My god, no.” He lets out a hearty laugh at your joke, but when he faces you, he was shocked at how serious you were. “No, y/n. Can’t we sit with you guys? We’ll leave if you say so,” 

“No, not that. It’s just that it’s so random. How come?” You rhetorically ask, preparing your materials for the class. You decided to leave it at that, but Sunghoon isn’t done just yet. After a few minutes of dead air, he clears his throat. 

“Do you have classes tomorrow?” He, at last, asks what he has been meaning to since a while ago (read: two days ago, when realizations have hit), and you blink at him. 

“No, why?”

“Plans?” 

“Nope. Stay at home, maybe. Why?” 

“I was thinking…” 

“What?” 

“I, uh…”

“Sunghoon, what?” 

“Oh my god, I can’t.” 

“What, fucking hell, spit it out!” 

“If you’d want to go get dinner with me tomorrow, gosh! I didn’t know you’re so vulgar with your friends!” Sunghoon unintentionally bursts out after the conversation rally, making heads turn. You blink at him once again, and he shrinks in shame. “Sorry,” 

“I thought you didn’t want to be friends?” Out of all the things he said, that’s what you asked. Sunghoon blinks as well, regaining his composure.

“That’s going to cost me a wonderful person now, am I?”

And that one random day, became one day that you treasured more than the others.

D-67.

“You’re supposed to rest, y/n,” Your dad stops you from preparing your outfit to leave, shaking his head. “I told you, if you’re going to go to school five to six times a week, then the last day was supposed to be a rest day.” 

“Dad, it’s just dinner…” You whine, pouting. “Besides, I know what to do and not to do.” 

“Seol-in wouldn’t be there to look over you,” 

“Dad, I’m not some kid needing for someone to look over me,” You sigh, still picking out your clothes anyway. “I know that you’re worried, Dad. Do you think I’ll do something that I know you’ll get more worried about?” 

And when you say that, your father surrenders with a breath of hesitation, and of course, reminding you of some things.

“This wouldn’t be a normal occasion, would it?” He asks to make sure before you head out, holding your arm. You smile at him and nod, “Okay. Be safe, darling. Text me updates and lastly, home at 10PM, sharp. No more, can less.” You chuckle, nodding again before hugging him and taking your leave. 

The diner Sunghoon picked was just a few blocks away, so you opted to walk since you had time to spare. And on the way there, you can’t seem to keep the smile inside. 

“If I didn’t even know I could die any day now, I wouldn’t even think this night would be possible.” You whisper to yourself, pressing your lips together to a tight smile. “Thank you for giving me another day,” You inhale sharply, closing your eyes for a moment and letting your head fall back to look at the night sky. 

Meanwhile, Sunghoon sees you standing there with your neck (almost) broken to take in much of the night sky. He chuckles, jogging to you and from his height, could look down straight at you from your position. 

“Oh, you’re here,” You laugh, your view of him upside down but you could recognize the face in any form or shape. Well, you’ve been in love with him for years. “Sorry, the sky was so pretty,”

Sunghoon looks up as well but the sky bore no anything, just pitch black with not even signs of dark clouds forming, the moon nowhere to be seen and stars hiding due to the city lights. His face contorts into confusion, thinking what made you say that such a pitch black-ed sky was pretty enough for you to thank the lords for another day.

“Let’s head in?” You ask, and when you’ve finally settled to a table with your food, you start to munch down. “What’s with dinner?” 

“Huh?” Sunghoon asks, covering his full mouth. 

“What’s with dinner? Why not breakfast or lunch or just the afternoon out? Are you planning on murdering me on the way back so there’s less people?” Your joke makes Sunghoon choke on his food and you laugh wholeheartedly, even grabbing your chest to keep it on radar. 

“Are you kidding me? Do I look like such a person?” Sunghoon drinks his soda and pats his chest to calm down, glaring at you. 

“I was kidding, loosen up. You just looked nervous, that’s all. That’s why I joked around.” You smiled cheekily, scrunching your nose at him. “Unless…” 

“Hey!” Sunghoon stops you and you have another round of laughter, shaking your spoon at him. He shakes you off and when you’ve calmed down, “I just thought breakfast would seem too eager, a lunch too usual, an afternoon out with what? Cafe’s? When you don’t even drink coffee?”

Your movements slow when you hear that, hearing your own heartbeat right in your ears. You take in a whole two breaths to calm down, even swallowing the non-existent lump on your throat.

“You remember that?” 

“You said that like, four days ago. I’m not that stupid,” He shakes it off as if it wasn’t a big deal for him to remember, but as you dwell on it, you only said that like it was a passing sentence, just one of the many you’ve dropped that day. “Did I remember wrong?” He stops eating and looks at you with wide eyes, anxiety evident in it. 

You chuckle, shaking your head. “No, you absolutely remembered right,” You finally continue eating as he sighs in relief, delving into his own food. 

“Why don’t you drink coffee though? I think you’re the first one I know that doesn’t,” 

“Ah…” You hesitate whether to tell him or not, so to not ruin the mood, you just carry on with no intentions of telling him. “Just don’t like the bitter taste,” 

Sunghoon nods in approval, and the dinner continues with light conversations and hearty laughs, clueless about the night deepening outside the windows. 

“Thank you for tonight, Sunghoon. I don’t know what’s gotten to you for you to suddenly offer dinner but it sure did make my night,” You chuckle, waving goodbye as you stood right in front of your porch. “You should go, be safe. Text me when you arrive so I know and that I wouldn’t be suspected for murder if you’re found dead,” 

“Hey, knock on wood!” He points and whines at you, but soon a chuckle still leaves his lips. 

“Fine, fine.” You coo him, knocking on the wood on your porch and then patting him on the shoulder. “You should really go now,”

“You head in first. I’ll go when I see you come in safely,” He nods at you, smiling. “Thank you as well, y/n.” 

You smile, and you think you won’t stop pushing and pulling if you don’t put a stop to it now, chuckling, nodding then finally turning your back at him.

“Uh, y/n,” He calls out once again and you turn curiously, raising your brows. Sunghoon looks fidgety, unable to meet your eyes and chest heaving up and down heavily. 

“What is it? Are you okay?” You step closer, taking a good look at him. “Do you want to head in for a glass of water first? You’re going to drive. I can’t let you leave like that.” 

“Your offer.” He starts, grabbing your arm and then finally staring right through your eyes softly. 

“Huh?”

“Can I still take it?” 

“What the hell are you on about?” 

“Being your boyfriend for a month. You offered that to me a few weeks ago, right? Can I still take it?” He speaks faster than normal, but it was all clear to you. It rang through your ears along with the beat of your heart, through the gush of the wind, and the almost inevident, almost whispers of the neighbors enjoying the last hours of the night in their own homes. “Can I still be your boyfriend for a month?” 

D-65. 

To taste your own medicine was a punch in the face. You’ll never even guess or dare think that you’ll be able to get this far. You knew your idea was ridiculous, you didn’t know that Sunghoon agreeing to it would be more ridiculous. You can’t even explain into words how your life has been quiet, full of restraints due to your illness, and now, you’ve gotten yourself into so much trouble that you can’t back down. 

Because why the hell was Sunghoon standing on your porch at five fifty-six in the morning? 

“Who’s this gentleman?” Your father, who has, let me emphasize, had never ever missed a day driving you to school, questioned when he got surprised after opening the door. He eyes you after Sunghoon eyes you, waiting for an answer. 

“Ah…” You chuckle nervously, scratching your head. “Sunghoon, my dad. Dad…” You crane your neck, thinking of an introduction. “Sunghoon, just a good friend.” You give your dad a tight-lipped smile, and then turn to Sunghoon. “What are you doing here, good friend?” You give him a glare secretly, turning away from your dad. 

“Sir, good morning.” Sunghoon smiles and reaches his hand out for your dad to shake, “I’m here this early in the morning to get your permission, sir.” Your dad cranes his neck curiously, shooting you and Sunghoon curious looks. “I wanted to take your daughter to school today, so I waited for an hour,” He smiles, and your dad shakes his hand. 

Your dad takes a minute to think and answer, because all he knew to do in the morning was to take you to school because of his overflowing concern for his only daughter. 

“I’ll get her there safe and sound, you don’t need to worry,” He claps his hand to show his car, smiling nervously. You stood there unmoving, staring at Sunghoon weirdly. 

“Dad, it’s okay, he was the one who drove me home last night,” Your dad grows suspicious and you regret saying that, making his eyebrows meet in the middle.

“You’re the one my daughter met alone last night for dinner?” You sigh in irritation, massaging your temples. 

Sunghoon nods and his hands come together to fumble badly, and you can see it glistening from the formed sweat of nervousness. 

“Okay, then,” Your head whips to your dad in question, confirming it. “I’ll pick you up later,” 

“Uh, actually, I can do that too,” Sunghoon smiles at your father, this time around unnerved, “And I can do that for the following days as well,”

Your jaw drops to the floor and you internally sigh, eyes closing tightly. You never knew the game you started was this dangerous.

“Your father agreed.” Sunghoon smiles but keeps his eyes on the road, giddy. 

“When you corner him like that he’ll have no choice but to, am I wrong?” You sigh, “Sunghoon, you don't need to.”

“I want to. Plus, it's just for a month.” He glances at you and then his eyes were back on the road, but you don't meet his eyes. “What's wrong? Didn't you ask for this?” He chuckles nervously, afraid that he might've crossed the line. “Are you uncomfortable?”

“No, I’m worried that you're uncomfortable.” You quickly retort, perking on your seat. “I know I said things, asked things. It was ridiculous, Sunghoon. You know it is, so why are you doing this?”

Sunghoon puts his car on hazard, unbuckles his seatbelt and turns to look at you. 

“You know what, it is ridiculous.” He chuckles, “But it was interesting. You're interesting. How come you only want the Park Sunghoon for a month, right?” He quotes and unquotes, “I want it. I want to do it because you're interesting. No jokes included.” He grabs your hand and pats it. And you share a thoughtful gaze right through each other's orbs for a minute before he sharply inhales. “Now, we have to get going before we're late for anatomy,” 

D+1.

“Your lunch,” Before you even get to order your lunch for today with Seol-in, Sunghoon places a iunchbox neatly in front of you. “I prepared those,” You look at him curiously and he nods at you to open it, and it reveals your usual palate and diet, fruits and vegetables. It takes you a while how Sunghoon had known you always ate these, and once again, your heartbeat rang through your ears. You were glowing faint red, and it makes Sunghoon nervous. “Why? Don't you like these?”

“How did you know?” Seol-in raises her eyebrows at Sunghoon, and he immediately refutes.

“No… I just… uh, always saw her with these, so I assumed…” He mumbles bad, and Heeseung breaks into laughter. Sunghoon looks at him with a look of help, trying to excuse himself out of the situation.

“I think everybody noticed, y/n. Don't think too much of it,” Heeseung shakes his hand in front of you lightheartedly, and you just nod.

“Thank you,” You smile at Sunghoon, preparing to dive in to the lunch he gave you. Sunghoon plops in front of you as Seol-in and Heeseung goes off to buy their own. You look at Sunghoon who opens his own, and your mouth agape when you realize you have the same content. He notices this and smiles at you, patting your hand. 

“I just thought you'd feel pressured and uncomfortable eating that alone,” He explains, and then takes a bite of his cucumber.

“Thank you, Sunghoon.” And words were never enough to express how grateful and seen you were. Especially from the man himself you liked. Especially when you take a greater look of the fruits and vegetables so delicately cut with others cut like flowers and others just with design. 

D+3.

“Are you free the day after tomorrow?” Sunghoon grabs the books you hugged as you made your way to his car, the sun setting which signaled your dismissal.

“I have one class in the morning and nothing to do after that, why?” 

“Perfect. Let’s go on a date.” 

You stop on your tracks, clutching your chest as you numbered your breaths, even wobbling in your position. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Sunghoon runs up to you and grabs your arms, crouching down to see you better. Your eyes meet and you nod, giving him a small smile. “Don’t scare me like that,” 

“Then don’t say things like that out of the blue,” You lightly hit his shoulder, chuckling. Your chest still stings but mildly bearable, so you start walking slowly and Sunghoon matches your pace. 

“Okay, sorry. I’ll ask your dad for permission later though.” He giggles, and he opens the passenger’s seat door for you and even covers the top of the lining of the car to protect your head from bumping on it. “Where do you want to go? Amusement parks? Zoo? Aquarium? Tell me,” 

Sunghoon pops in his seat and starts his car, oftenly glancing at you. 

“Anywhere with you, Hoon.”

D+4.

“Surprise!” You habitually grab your chest to calm yourself down, grabbing onto the next thing, rather person, next to you, Seol-in. She reaches for your back and rubs it looking at you worriedly. “Sorry, are you bad with surprises?” Sunghoon grabs your arm to properly stand you up, scratching his head. 

Seol-in almost lectures him but you stop her, shaking your head.

“She is. Very bad. So don’t do it again,” Seol-in shortens, and then looks at you worriedly again. You squeeze her arm to assure her, giving her a side hug before bidding goodbye.

“Sorry,” Sunghoon gets your bag slinging from your shoulders and slings it to his. “I didn’t know.” 

“That’s okay.” You smile at him. “You didn’t know.” 

D+6.

Sunghoon, with his arm held out, bore a bouquet of sweet heliotropes, your favorite flower.

“Oh my god,” You exclaim, gently getting it off his hands for you to admire more closely. “Heliotropes?” Of course you’ll recognize your favorite flowers. But just to be sure, you turn to Sunghoon and he nods with a smile. “These are so hard to find! Where did you get this?” 

“I have my ways,” And Sunghoon won’t just simply admit he drove fifty miles away just for the flowers you liked, checking flower shop by flower shop to see if it had them. 

“And you knew these were my favorite, how?” You didn’t bat him a glance with your eyes glued on the flowers, touching every flower with your index finger gently. 

“I asked Seol-in,” Sunghoon admires how you admired the flowers, and how you were so casually dressed (which he had reminded you about) but so enticing to see. Everything around you and you screamed exuberantly, and Sunghoon was quite regretful how he had managed to ignore and have unknown of your existence after all these years. Yet, he was also quite happy. He's a lucky man who’s got to experience it now, thinking, it’s better late than never.

“So, where are we going?” 

“That’s a secret.” Sunghoon teasingly raises his eyebrows repeatedly before honking courtesy to your dad waiting for him to drive off, worry unetched from his face unlike the first time Sunghoon drove you off.  “You can guess though. I’ll tell you if you’re right.” 

“That throws excitement out of the bus.” You shake your head. “But the aquarium. I love fishes and maybe Seol-in told you that too,” He laughs out loud when you guess anyway, making you giggle. 

“I wouldn’t tell. It’ll throw excitement out of the bus,” Sunghoon quotes you, booping your nose for a second before turning back to face the road again. “Brace yourself. It’s going to be quite a long ride.” 

You nod curiously, thinking of places where you can go out of the radar until you’ve drifted off to sleep. 

You’re awoken with your seat leaned back, seatbelt undone and Sunghoon’s jacket draped over your body. You quickly rise and look for Sunghoon beside you, but he isn't there. Only do you take a good look outside, and your jaw drops open. 

“Oh my god,” It feels like you’re in a story book of a fairytale, feeling every step of yours slowly and every second in time reeling in. “Sunghoon…” You step closer to Sunghoon, back on you as he admires the view in front of you. 

The soft grass tickled your legs and Sunghoon’s hand slowly warmed your hand as he held you tight beside him, the breeze passing through you as you held onto Sunghoon’s jacket on your body with your other, and the amazingly breathtaking view of the almost grassy volcano in front of you. It emitted a picture-perfect scene that you thank the gods for a perfect day that the clouds did not cover almost half of it, fog forming on top of it that it was just so immaculate to the eyes. 

“Do you like it?” Sunghoon turns to you like the view in front of him wasn’t enough he had to turn to you.

“...Like it?” You were able to utter out, head turning to him as your eyes followed. “I love it so much that I can’t… breathe, Sunghoon.” You were holding your tears, unable to grasp your chest to stabilize your breathing because of your busy hands.

Sunghoon just laughs and takes it as a light joke, pressing his lips and grabbing your shoulders softly to turn you to face him. He stares at you for a few more moments before his hands drop to hold yours, rubbing it with his thumb. 

“Sunghoon… I can’t breathe,” Your tears finally left your eyes, seeming never ending as you feel everything you needed to feel a little… more. Your blood rushing, the goosebumps you’re having a little too uncomfortable to have, the grass now too prickly to your skin, your tears a bit more wet, breeze too cold for your liking, his palms too warm and rough from the calluses he had, your heart thumping a little too hard and his eyes a little less intimidating… in time which is the one that served as your oxygen that calms you down. So you tug his hands softly and swiftly bring your arms around his shoulders, leaning in for a hug. “Thank you, Sunghoon. It’s beautiful.” 

Sunghoon smiles as he brings his arms up to hug you back, feeling his hand rub your back to calm you down.

“I didn’t even dare think I’d see this up close this lifetime,” You explain, smiling at him with your face damp with tears. “Thank you, Sunghoon. I don’t think I’ll ever say those words enough.” 

Sunghoon sighs in relief and holds your hand, smugly turning to the view in front of him and so do you. 

“Well, aren't Seol-in and your dad such great sources? I think I’m getting to know you half better because of them,” He chuckles, and you scrunch your eyebrows in confusion.

“Dad told you about here?” 

“He did. I asked. He said he isn’t able to get you here because he was too much of a coward to do so, which I have no idea why he said that.” He shrugs, and you hold your head down. You knew your father was afraid that you were going to feel extreme emotions just like how you did a few minutes ago, and that he would absolutely have no idea what to do if it happens. So he just avoids it and decides to never bring you here himself. 

It wasn’t on his year's bingo card for Sunghoon to show up and do everything with you that he was scared to do. You know that he probably thinks— if he didn’t know you were sick, will he be able to do the things Sunghoon is able to do for you, for his only daughter? Will he be able to take you to places you liked, wanted to go, let you eat whatever you wanted to, let you do whatever you wanted to do? 

If he had the choice, he would let you. But he doesn’t. And you don’t. 

“What are you thinking so deeply about?” Sunghoon slightly shakes your intertwined hands, getting your attention from the scenery before you. 

“How I should relieve this view every morning. So I’m memorizing every bit like a painting,” You explain, nudging his side.

“Shouldn’t you be getting me in the view then?” He shakes your hand off softly before he poses in front of you cheekily, striking random ones which make you laugh. “Your handsome boyfriend brought you here, so—”

“I already memorized each of your features, Sunghoon. You don’t need to do that,” You grab his hand to hold once again, and this time around, it was Sunghoon’s turn to feel flustered. “Oh, you’re getting red!” You point at his face, and it makes you hold your tummy to laugh aloud. Sunghoon turns around with ihs back on you to compose himself, feeling blood stay in his face and ears for a good half an hour every time he remembers what you said. 

—

“Is that a church? Can we drop by for a second?” You turn to Sunghoon, who instantly nods at you. “You can stay here if you want. I’ll be here in a flash.”

“It’s okay, I’ll come with.” Sunghoon turns the engine off and heads out to open your door as you prepare your bag once again, thanking him after you made your way out and habitually intertwining your hands. 

There was no mass ceremony so there were less people inside, immediately finding a spot to sit on and pray silently.

You put your hands together and close your eyes, whispering your prayers silently. After a few minutes, you inhale sharply and exhale deeply, opening your eyes after it. 

“What were you praying so intently for?” Sunghoon asks, brushing the stray hair behind your ear.

“For giving me another day. And with you,” You smile at him, squeezing his hand. “You? Did you pray for anything or you just watched me with those eyes?” You nod at him and pointed out how you felt his sweet eyes on you even with your eyes closed.

“I made a promise that I’ll always find a way to you since you seem so close to Him,” Sunghoon rubs his thumb over the back of your hand, playfully raising his eyebrows at you. “And since you thanked him for giving you another day, I thanked him for letting me have you.” 

“Liar. I didn’t even see you close your eyes for a second,” 

“You don’t need to close your eyes to pray!” 

“Stop lying in front of the church, Sunghoon,” 

D+12.

Sunghoon twists and turns in his seat to catch a glimpse of you, but you were nowhere to be found. Neither was your loud bestfriend. It was so bad that he had been kicked out of his first class that he was taking with you, checking and checking his phone if you had sent any text that you were going to skip class today. There was none. 

“Maybe she just forgot. For now, focus on your next class,” Heeseung pats his friend’s shoulder, growing concerned not only for his friend but also for you. 

”Y/n never forgets to update me, Heeseung.” Sunghoon’s leg was continuously bouncing in nervousness, “Do you think she’s sick? Should I go visit her? Should I go to their house later?” His grip on his phone was deathly, and Heeseung could feel it through his white knuckles.

Heeseung sighs and gets his phone from him, and shakes his head. 

“Let’s just go find Seol-in first and ask her. We’ve got our last class with her so maybe she knows. It’ll be dark by then. So if we still don’t know until tomorrow, then call her dad.” Heeseung talks him out of it and assures him temporarily for the day. 

It’s okay, he thinks. At least he knows you didn’t fight and ended the day before with bad terms. 

The day ended without him having to see Seol-in to ask where you are, the loud friend being absent as well. 

D+13

Sunghoon now can’t stay still and cannot be brainwashed by Heeseung now that you’re not attending school the second day around. You haven’t contacted him at all and he grows scared whether everything was just a fever dream he had, itching to go to your house when he gets a glimpse of your friend scrambling to get her things in a rush and go home. 

“Seol-in, Seol-in!” He shouts through the hallway, but Seol-in feigns ignorance and goes her way quickly. But Sunghoon was too worried that he pushes through the crowd to catch Seol-in by the arm. 

“Seol-in. Do you have any idea what the fuck y/n has been up to? She’s not answering my calls,” Sunghoon turns Seol-in who had a tight smile on, itching to leave right that second. “Her dad, too.” 

“Ah… I don’t know…” Seol-in shakes her head, “Maybe they went on a vacation?” 

“And you think she forgot to tell me?” Sunghoon was now fuming, his grip on Seol-in arm tightening for her to squirm.

“Sunghoon, you’re hurting Seol-in,” Heeseung stops him and yanks his arm away from Seol-in. “Could you please just tell y/n to talk to Sunghoon if you got some kind of contact with her? Please,” 

“I will. Don’t worry. I have to go,” Seol-in nods at them before she scurries off, heading straight to your house to help around. 

You were on a bed rest for the whole day, wrapped in your soft sheets with people seemingly pushing past you and tending to you every second you could count, patting your sweat away, fanning you, and asking you every possible minute if you were okay. 

“Y/n! Are you okay now?!” Seol-in bursts through the door as he pouts at you looking at your state, plopping on your side to give you a hug.

“I can’t breathe enough because of these sheets suffocating me. Get off,” You chuckle, pushing her off. “Could you take my mask off please,” You groan at Seol-in and she shakes her head at you, tightening your oxygen mask on your head. “Oh please, I’m over the attack now. Just get it off,” Seol-in hesitantly takes it off and fans you and you immediately breathe in comfortably, mumbling a small thanks.

After briefing you about your missed activities, she sighs and packs her notebooks back to her bag, preparing to leave. 

“Say it. You’ve been keeping it all night.” You poke her sides, making her glare at you. 

“Sunghoon. You know he’s worried.” 

“Oh is he now?” You steady your breathing, swallowing the lump on your throat. 

“Send him a short text. He almost ripped me to pieces asking where you were a while ago.” You sigh and smile reluctantly, nodding. You bid her goodbye after it and as the door closes after her, it opens once again.

“Dad.” You smile, almost putting your oxygen mask back before he shakes his hand. 

“If you’re okay then you don’t need to put it back on,” He chuckles, then busies himself with your bedside table. “Do you need anything, perhaps?” Your dad slowly takes a seat beside you where Seol-in was, tucking you properly in your sheets once more. When he sees you shake your head, it takes more minutes for him to start another conversation. “Sunghoon… my dear, he still doesn’t know?” 

You sigh for the nth time, knowing where this conversation might end just well. 

“He doesn’t need to know, dad.” You give him a tight smile, fiddling with your fingers. “I don’t see the reason why I should tell him.” 

“Dear… He’s your beloved, isn’t he?” He takes your hand to stop you from wounding it, patting it. “I think it will be best if he knows. So you can cherish more of your time together.” 

“Dad.” You stop him from going further, shaking your head. “I am cherishing it. But I can’t be greedy, can I? I want to… let him carry on without thinking about me.” Your dad nods not in agreement but for the sake of ending the conversation he started, letting you have the last word. 

If you think that’s what’s best for the both of you, then that’s that. 

D+15

“Y/n!” Sunghoon runs to you with such worry, grabbing your shoulders and looking everywhere in your body to see if you were hurt. To him, you absolutely looked pretty, yes, again, ever did you do look, but you were noticeably paler, skinnier, and black bags rested under your eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Sunghoon, hi.” You smile cheekily, clinging to his arm. “Of course I am, do I look like I’m not?” Of course you knew you looked different day by day.

“What the hell happened? How come I wasn’t able to contact you or your dad? When I went to your house, your housekeeper said that you weren’t around! Seol-in doesn’t even know where you were as well!” Sunghoon softly shakes you off his arm, taking another closer look at you with furrowed eyebrows. 

You chuckle, letting him do whatever he wants as you straighten his eyebrows out, to un-forrow it. 

“Please don’t be mad. There was just an emergency we had to go to, and we didn’t have the time for our phones. I’m sorry,” You mumble, smiling at him. 

Sunghoon sighs in defeat as finally all the concern left his body, but also the energy he had for today. Everything he needed was right in front of him, and classes weren't in his choices to enjoy today since you were finally back in his arms where you rightfully were.

“That’s okay, you can make it up to me today,” Sunghoon slyly smiles at you and knowing him, an idea was brewing inside his mind right that moment. 

“What the hell are you thinking of doing, Hoon?” You chuckle, poking his dimple that was showing. 

“Let’s skip classes.” 

D+17

“Heeseung, hi.” You knock on the door of their classroom hideout, peeking inside.

“Oh, y/n!” He jumps out of his beanbag, welcoming you in. “What brings you here?” He rubs his palm against his pants and tucks it in his behind pockets. 

“I was wondering where Sunghoon was and if you knew. We shared a class just now but he wasn’t there and it wasn’t like him to skip without telling me…” You embarrassingly shifted around and let your eyes stay on the ground.

“Ah… Uh…” Heeseung scratches his head and is hesitant to tell you anything, but he does anyway. “He went to the hospital.”

“What? Why? Is he hurt?” You suddenly meet his eyes but he immediately calms you down, shaking his head. 

“Don’t worry! He’s not hurt or anything, he was just asked to visit someone there. He’ll be around tomorrow, I guess.” Heeseung smiles at you assuringly before you excuse yourself, sending him a quick text to stay wherever he was. 

D+18

He wasn’t around unlike what Heeseung had said. And you were growing worried. 

You think, was this how Sunghoon worried over you when you were barely to be contacted and no one he knew where you were?

“Stop worrying so much, y/n…” Seol-in stops your leg from bouncing and asks you to calm your breathing. You follow her lead, nodding at her. “Didn’t Heeseung say he was only visiting someone? And didn’t Sunghoon send you a text saying not to worry? So don’t. Y/n…” Seol-in suppresses her own concern about you and tries to talk you out of it. “...you’re getting weaker day by day. Can’t you just… stay at home now? And about Sunghoon…” 

“Seol-in,” You voice out, “I’m okay. I know when I should be staying at home.” You smile at her, and tears leave her eyes at the sudden realization of things. Of how you were slowly, perfectly, surely of living the last of your best lives, letting you do whatever you want because she knows that you will know for sure what to do in any given situation. 

She trusts you over herself. 

D+19

“Sunghoon’s still not around?” Your eyes were busy as you looked around the classroom, not seeing the pretty head you have always admired from afar. 

“I guess…” You mumble, pouting. Your phone buzzes and you read the message sent to you almost too immediately, pout only growing worse at the text you received. “He said he’ll stay in the hospital for today too…” 

You suck it up and force a smile, sending him a text back and putting your phone down. 

Suddenly, your head grows heavy and your visions double and blur, feeling your body fall weak and harshly to the ground with a commotion. Before you black out completely, you hear Seol-in’s desperate cries for you and for help.

—

Your eyes twitch uncomfortably when you open it slightly to a bright room, feeling your breathing cycle once again almost too much. You remove your oxygen mask and realize where you were, at the campus clinic with Seol-in and Heeseung beside you.

“Oh… I must’ve been fatigued last night…” You excuse, smiling at Heeseung. But he doesn’t budge, the same worried face as Seol-in etched on his face. “What? First time seeing a grown woman faint?” You joke around, and Seol-in bursts into tears once again.

“I know already, y/n, you can stop pretending,” Heeseung mumbles softly, gaining you an apologetic face afterward. You glance at Seol-in, sighing. 

At this very moment, like with any other person who suddenly knows your condition, is the very moment and only moment you don’t know what to do.

What, are you supposed to console other people about yourself having a terminal condition?

“Heeseung, please don’t tell Sunghoon.” Heeseung didn’t need any more explanation than that. If you didn’t want him to know, then it’s not his place to tell so. And suddenly for Heeseung, everything clicks.

From how you’re suddenly asking Sunghoon to be your boyfriend, and apart from all that, only for a month, to how you’re drastically changing which he didn’t pay no mind at all unless Sunghoon has taken notice of it, and why you were out of Sunghoon’s, or any other’s radar for almost three days last week. 

So he just nods, because that’s what you needed right now. For everyone to just do what you say, do what you want. As long as Sunghoon is kept in the dark of your condition. 

D+20

“Y/n, can we go somewhere?” Heeseung offers, opening his car for you to ride on. You curiously just followed his lead, staying quiet throughout the ride as you stared outside and watched the sun set. 

“Why? Is someone hurt? Are you hurt?” You question, unbuckling your seatbelt. Heeseung stays quiet but leads you to a ward, opening it to reveal a woman in her early twenties, back of her skull facing towards you so you had no idea who she was. 

Heeseung lets you in as you slowly and unsurely move to the side to see who she was.

“Chung-ah…” You mumble, and your eyes blink rapidly. 

Chung-ah doesn’t look like what she always did, smiling and healthily making her way around the campus with a bright energy. On the hospital bed, tubes were connected throughout her body and ventilations were even needed to help her breathe continuously. 

“Why…” Your chest was breathing heavily and you were trying hard to stabilize it, but tears were already forming in your eyes as you put two and two together. 

“She was the reason why Sunghoon had been skipping his classes, y/n.” Heeseung explains calmly, already feeling apologetic toward you. Because it wasn’t right.

Although you and Sunghoon had agreed to only be together for a month, it wasn’t right for Sunghoon to be hiding the fact that he was visiting and taking care of his ex-girlfriend for days now, and keeping it from you even though she was sick.

Especially when you were fighting your own battles too. And with that, alone. 

“This is why… she broke up with him.” You conclude, and you finally let out a sob, waking the said character up groggily. 

“Y/n…” She mumbles through the mask, trying to force herself to smile. “It’s nice to meet you. It’s a shame we didn’t meet any sooner,” She managed to voice out, having heavy breaths between words to keep up with her own sentences. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to make you all confused about Sunghoon again. I can see he’s happier now… but my mom…” 

“Chung-ah…” You call for her to stop, followed by your sobs and your shaking of head. To think that they broke up only because Chung-ah didn’t want him to be heart broken by the fact that she’s merely holding on to life, and the only thing, only one that can lengthen her life, was to be kept happy by the people she loves. 

Just like you, she didn’t want Sunghoon to be miserable with her just because she was. She didn’t want Sunghoon to be miserable just for her to selfishly wake up in the morning for another day. She didn’t want Sunghoon to be miserable staying by her side just for her to simply live.

You didn’t want Sunghoon to be miserable just for you to selfishly leave him alone in the end, after all. 

Heeseung follows you out of the room as you clench your chest that bore so much pain for the decision you had to make, uncontrollably sobbing and continuously wiping endless tears from your face. You had to hold on to life to the wall beside you to keep you standing, audibly and physically showing your pain and your torment for everybody— Chung-ah, Sunghoon, and for yourself too. 

“Y/n?” You hear Sunghoon’s voice from five meters away and you meet his eyes at once, his full of skepticism and distress and yours… unimaginable pain. And Sunghoon can see it.

He mumbles something under his breath before stomping his way to Heeseung behind you and striking him right on the face, making a commotion as you held him back. 

“Sunghoon, no, please…”

“Bastard! Why the hell would you bring y/n in here?!” Sunghoon, red from anger continued to dote on Heeseung who annoyingly smirked at him, keeping his composure. 

“What, were you planning on keeping it from y/n? For how long, you sick bastard? That’s your fucking ex inside! What about y/n?!” Heeseung fights back with a tight jaw, fist tightening holding back to landing a punch back on his friend.

“Heeseung…” 

“Fuck you, Heeseung! Chung-ah’s sick! Mind your fucking words you piece of shit!” Sunghoon attempts to give him another strike but you take a hold of his clenched fist, facing Sunghoon with tears still falling in your eyes.

“Sunghoon,”

“And y/n?” Heeseung starts, but you quickly turn to him to desperately ask him to stop there. Heeseung holds back and opts to leave the scene first, intentionally bumping Sunghoon’s shoulder harshly before he’s off.

“Sunghoon, can we talk?” You smile tightly, squeezing his hand assuringly. 

You’ve got nowhere else private to go but the chapel inside the hospital meant for desperate patients and families to turn towards in times of anguish, at this time in the night no one else able to use it to spend time with each other. 

You were just staring in front, sniffing here and there but no other words were undone between you, and beside you, unlike you, Sunghoon was looking down on his hands fiddling with each other. 

“Chung-ah broke up with you because she didn’t want you to feel miserable with her, Hoon.” You start, and as if on cue, tears started forming in your eyes once again. “Not because she didn’t love you anymore.” 

Sunghoon stays quiet and unmoving, and you take it as a signal to continue. 

“Chung-ah… I heard from Heeseung that she’s only to live more if she’s filled and surrounded by people she loves.” This time, you look up to stop your tears from falling, and from being a sobbing mess all over again. 

But it was too late.

“What are you trying to say, y/n?” Sunghoon softly mumbles, finally having the guts to face you. He grabs your hands and kneels before you, but you’re unable to meet his eyes. 

“I’m saying that… you… Park Sunghoon, should stay with her.” You smile between cries and sobs, and Sunghoon’s face drops in shock. And as unbelievable as it was, Sunghoon’s eyes were also sparkling in sadness when he heard what you were saying. 

“I don’t want to,” 

“Sunghoon… have you seen Chung-ah?”

“I don’t care! I don’t want to! The only reason why I’ve been staying here for days is because her mother was begging me, y/n. Please believe me,” 

“I do, will always do, Sunghoon.” Your lips were trembling from all the crying you were doing but you didn’t miss the way a tear fell down from Sunghoon’s eyes the first time, and then followed by many others. You raise your palm to his cheeks to wipe it away, shaking your head. 

“Then why are you doing this, y/n… Come on…” Sunghoon also shakes his head, his grip on your hand tightening but not enough to hurt you. Enough only to make you feel that the situation was hurting him too. 

“Because Chung-ah needs you and your love, too,” 

“But I don’t love her, y/n! I love you! I… love you, y/n. Don’t you love me too?” Sunghoon becomes weak before your eyes as his voice softens and tries his best reaching the sincerity to you and for you to embrace it.

“God,” You let out a genuine snort, throwing your head back and then looking at the said god in front of you, dropping a few more tears before cupping Sunghoon’s cheeks for his eyes to meet yours from his position. “I love you so much you have no idea, Park Sunghoon,” You smile at him, scrunching your nose at him. “...But our love is not enough this time, Sunghoon. Chung-ah needs you. It wouldn’t be hard to love someone the second time around, would it?” 

Sunghoon drops his head on your knees and you hear him sob helplessly, because he knows you were right. He knows that staying with you, is leaving Chung-ah good as dead. 

“Twenty days. You gave me twenty days full of nothing but your love that I promise to keep for my whole life, Sunghoon.” You rub his head sweetly before making him stretch his head out to meet your eyes once more, maybe, for the last time. “Twenty days for you, Sunghoon. You gave me twenty days from your lifetime… but you gave me forever with it,” You smile reassuringly, and then stare at each other’s eyes deeply. Crying for each other, sobs echoed through the chapel until you were finally ready to go. “I love you, Sunghoon. So much,”

You wiped Sunghoon’s tears away once more before leaving a kiss on his forehead, letting it stay there for a few seconds to cherish it, and then gently patting his cheeks before standing up and making your leave, hearing his desperate cries to try and make you stay.

But you don’t look back. 

God, you can’t look back because if you did, even to catch a glimpse of him for a second— to see him still kneeling in the same place, face damp and flushed from all of the crying he did, wailing as his hands can’t find the guts to hold your warm hands back to stay with him— you knew you were going to run back in his arms and tell him that you loved him, and that you needed him too. 

Because if you looked back and ran back to him, it was to end Chung-ah's life then and there.

D-64.

Sunghoon twists and turns in his seat, unable to stay still which inevitably wakes Chung-Ah up. She watches him for a few minutes until until he took notice, smiling apologetically 

“Sorry, did I wake you?” Sunghoon asks, propping his elbows on his knees to be closer to Chung-ah. 

She takes a closer good look at Sunghoon— puffy red eyes, dark bags underneath, bruised lips from yesterday when he met up with Heeseung to ask about you and your whereabouts, only to be faced with no answer but a punch in the face, pale skin, paler than he had always been. He had also not been eating a lot, talking a lot— but he had obviously been trying his best to look and feel okay since he had someone beside him having it a lot worse than he could imagine.

“Sunghoon…” She smiles, asking for his hand to hold. For Sunghoon, it had felt like he was touched by a cold feather, 

“Sorry, I can’t sleep on the couch and I certainly cannot sleep here. I wanted to get some fresh air but I couldn’t leave you alone.” He explains, rubbing his thumb on her palm. Chung-ah lifelessly shakes her head, patting Sunghoon’s hand. “Do you need something? Water?” 

“No, Sunghoon. Thank you,” She mumbles out, chuckling. It takes Chung-ah a few minutes to gather her strength for talking, inhaling in and out as Sunghoon patiently waits. “You know… when y/n came here, I didn’t even get to say anything.” 

Sunghoon was taken aback, surprised that Chung-ah had opened this topic up and knowing that she heard everything outside her door that day. 

“...I didn’t tell her anything about us. Nor Heeseung— nor anyone in the school why I broke up with you. So I was surprised when… she knew.” Chung-ah closes her eyes to reminisce, remembering your cries and your eyes that had realized what was coming for her. It breaks her as well too, because she understood well just how you were feeling. “She instantly knew why I had to break it off with you, why I had to choose you and not me, for us.” 

“Chung-ah…” Sunghoon tried to stop her by shushing her, wanting for her to save up the energy for anything else, not by explaining to him. He had already understood you, and he had already accepted it. 

“I don’t know if it’s a girl to girl thing, but still I wanted to say this since I didn’t get to say it to her.” Chung-ah continues anyway, wanting to let Sunghoon hear what she wants to say.

“Chung-ah, you can stop. Save your energy. Y/n… she made me understand everything, so you don’t need to.” 

“No, Sunghoon. If you did, you’re not supposed to be here, then.” She smiles softly, and Sunghoon could feel how sincere she was so he just nodded at her to continue. “Sunghoon, did you know you burned brighter when you started hanging out with her? Did you know that it was the first time from the ten months we’ve been together, plus a month after we broke up, that I’ve seen you smile so genuinely and look at someone with so much love. I know you loved me, but you just loved her better.” Chung-ah’s smile never leaves her lips, hand holding Sunghoon’s as tight as she can. “Sunghoon, you… don’t need to stay.”

“Chung-ah, we’ve talked about this.” 

“No. You and mom talked about this.” She shakes her head, “Sunghoon, I’ve lived enough,” She sighs, scooting on her bed. “I’ll only be here for a few weeks now, I can’t hold on any longer. I need to… rest,” She looks at Sunghoon once again, grateful and apologetic all in her eyes.

“Then let me just stay with you until you can hold out, Chung-ah. For old time’s sake.” 

D-30.

“They said it was a miracle Chung-ah lasted longer than she was counted up by the doctors, Sunghoon.” Chung-ah’s mom, just like when she begged Sunghoon to stay, was weeping as she held Sunghoon by the hand. “Thank you for staying with her, Sunghoon.” 

“It’s nothing, auntie. Let’s wrap up the documents for the funeral and then let’s bid our last goodbyes to Chung-ah, alright?” Sunghoon had managed to pick himself up everytime he should, in front of Chung-ah and her family. 

Of course, every now and then he tries to look for you, getting gossip that you went radio silent after that day and had not been going to school after that, it had affected him quite a lot to not hear anything about you. 

“I have no idea as well, Sunghoon.” Heeseung sighs as he gets another call from his friend who he had recently reconciled with, mumbling on the phone. “I’m trying to look for her too. So don’t worry, I’ll give you a text as soon as I get an update,” 

“Sunghoon… Sorry, y/n… I think it’s best for you not to look for her,” This time around, Seol-in shakes her head in front of him, after paying a visit at Chung-ah’s funeral. “And you know I can’t say anything if that’s what y/n wants. So I’ll have to keep my mouth shut about it. It’s not my right to say anything,” 

D-7.

“Sunghoon.” Chung-ah’s mother snaps in front of his face to get his attention, as he jumps and suddenly looks around. He was the only one left along with his mother in front of Chung-ah’s burial site, the place filled with white flowers and food Chung-ah loved. “I didn’t know you were here. You should have told me,” She smiles at Sunghoon and places her own bouquet of white flowers beside Sunghoon’s, taking a minute to say her own prayers. “You’ve been here for how long? Can I bother you for some tea?” 

Sunghoon nods and follows her lead after they had paid a visit to Chung-ah, smiling as he rubbed Chung-ah’s frame before he left. 

“Chung-ah… she left a letter before she passed, darling.” Her mother sets her cup of tea in front of her as she opens up her bag to reveal the letter. “I wasn’t ready to open it when she passed, so I only got to open it last night and went here today to talk to her about it. It was a good thing you were there,” She pushes the letter over the table closer to Sunghoon, and explains as Sunghoon reads it.

Tears form in Sunghoon’s eyes as he reads through the letter, the first time he ever was vulnerable in front of Chung-ah’s mother. 

“Chung-ah… she was so sorry that you had to repeat senior year all over again that she asked me to take care of you,” She gets another envelope, a thicker one, and slides it over the table again. “Here’s a little help, Sunghoon.” 

“I don’t need it, auntie.” Sunghoon smiles as he glances at the content, but Chung-ah’s mother insists.

“As Chung-ah says, learn to accept the help you’re receiving.” She smiles, and Sunghoon chuckles and continues to read. “She also says… to help you find the love you had before you knew of her illness,” Sunghoon’s hold on the paper tightens, as he just got to read that part of the paper. He continues, as she continues. “I’m sorry Sunghoon, I didn’t know… but it was for my daughter, so I’m sorry that I don’t regret it at all,” She is so apologetic of her actions that she even bears tears for it, wiping it instantly. “I am a mother, that’s why.” 

Sunghoon doesn’t utter anything but continues to read, his heart thumping a lot heavier than it was.

“But I will help you find her again, Sunghoon. Now, not for me, but for you, Chung-ah, and the girl you loved.” By this time, Sunghoon had placed the letter down after reading every word of it, looking at the woman in front of him with dead eyes. He understood every side, but still, he had missed the girl he loved and is now missing. 

“I promise you I will find her, Sunghoon. I will.” She assures, taking his hands over the table. “Thank you for loving my daughter, Sunghoon. I will always carry it in my heart.”

D-5.

Sunghoon holds his phone tight as he hesitates to contact someone, as clearly sent by Chung-ah’s mother’s through text.

…997… This is y/n’s father’s number. He had it changed over two months ago, and y/n’s number was held by a new owner. I’m sorry, darling. This is all I was given. I’m sure you will be able to contact her father.

His fingers hover over the call button, head pounding and heart beating uncontrollably. 

Does he still get the right to talk to you after he left you? After he had left you for his dying ex? 

Is he still worth something to you? 

D-2.

“Sunghoon, just make the damn call,” Heeseung grows worried at his friend who makes himself hyper focused on his finals for tomorrow, not batting him an eye as he wrote through his notes. “You’ll regret it if you don’t do it sooner, Hoon.” 

“I’ve been regretting not doing everything I can with her, Heeseung. I think I will just have to live with that,” 

Heeseung groans in frustration as he gets Sunghoon’s notes from him to get his attention. 

“Fine.” Heeseung clenches his jaw. “I know where y/n is.” Sunghoon suddenly stands up and furrows his brows, scoffing at his friend. “Before you say anything, y/n didn’t want me to say anything to you, just like Seol-in.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me right now, Heeseung?” Sunghoon pushes Heeseung harshly and brushes his hair back in frustration, all the anger building up in him. “Where is she?” 

“Sunghoon.” 

“Where is she?!” 

“I’ll take you to her once you successfully finish your last exam tomorrow, Hoon. And after you get permission from his dad.” Heeseung places his notes back down on his table and opens his phone on the contact his fingers have been hovering over for a day already. “Call me once you do. Then I’ll take you to her in an instant.” 

Heeseung turns around to make his leave, but Sunghoon stops him with his sob.

“Is y/n… okay?” He sobs out, chest heavy with all the questions he bore in mind since the day he last saw you.

“Y/n…” Heeseung sighs, “...just take your exam and text her father fast, Sunghoon.” And with that, Heeseung closes the door behind him to avoid more of his friend’s questions and to avoid making Sunghoon see that he was also on the verge of crying, too. 

D-1.

“He said… I can visit tomorrow,” Sunghoon shows your father’s text to Heeseung, as Heeseung sighs. He nods at Sunghoon and pats his shoulder, giving him a smile. 

“Pack your things, then. We’ll drive in a few hours. It’s a long one,” Heeseung tears up at the thought, proud of his friend but also ready for everything happening the next day. He calls up Seol-in to update her and she asks him to brief Sunghoon up on the way there.

But seeing Sunghoon happy and giddy and jumpy… broke him. He runs out of Sunghoon’s apartment to calm himself down, leaving Sunghoon confused but he packs with a smile anyway. He sees himself on the rooftop, cursing the gods for what fate has brought you two. He thinks, since he was on the rooftop and was shouting, he’ll be able to relay his message clearer and louder. 

Because how come you’ve only lasted this long until Sunghoon has come back to you? 

The friend he made along with Sunghoon— how come you were leaving them? 

He breaks down on the rooftop, his cries unheard— closer to the heavens than to any other person on the ground. Once he had calmed down, he made his way back to Sunghoon’s flat, seeing he had already packed up… a lot. 

“Where have you been?” Sunghoon smiles at him giddily, presenting his packed things. “I didn’t know what to pack since you didn’t say anything else, so I packed nearly everything.” 

Heeseung makes his way around Sunghoon’s things when he realizes he packed many useless things, such as the jacket he was meant to give you, necklaces he meant to give you, everything he meant to give you. Whether it was packed food, clothes– everything. 

“Sunghoon…” He mumbles, tears starting to well up again. “...you don’t need to bring these.” 

“Why? I have to give all those to y/n!” He pouts at Heeseung and shoos him away, double checking his things. 

“You don’t need to, Sunghoon. Just bring some clothes, and yourself.” But Sunghoon doesn’t listen, so it ticks Heeseung off. “I said you don’t need to, Sunghoon!” 

Sunghoon stops as he looks at Heeseung weirdly, sighing.

“What the hell? Why are you being aggressive and why the hell are you crying?” Sunghoon questions as he steps closer to his friend, scrunching his forehead and sensing that there’s something definitely wrong going on. “What is it?”

“Get your packed clothes, and let’s go.” Heeseung wipes his tears away and gets his keys, leaving Sunghoon once again to walk first to his car. 

“Can you just tell me what the hell’s going on?” Sunghoon feels something unpleasant down in his chest since Heeseung was continuously crying and not uttering a word, an hour in through their drive and only with a bag of clothes behind them. “That I didn’t even need to bring what I got for y/n? And would you please stop crying? It’s dangerous while you’re driving,” 

“Sunghoon, whatever happens, I’ll be with you, okay? Seol-in too,” He starts, his voice sad as he glances at Sunghoon. “Y/n… is weak.” 

“The fuck do you mean?” Sunghoon perks in his seat, turning to Heeseung. 

“She’s been very sick, Sunghoon. Since she was a kid. And now… she’s barely holding on to life and her father’s been saying that she only lives out waiting for you every second of every day.” Sunghoon’s life stops right then and there, feeling his heart not beat faster but slower, as if you had just taken life years from him. What do you mean you’re sick? What do you mean you’re also sick? What do you mean you still let him stay with Chung-ah even though you were counting days as well? What do you mean? 

“W-what the hell, Heeseung… Not a good fucking joke,” He utters out, staring outside the window. 

“She was someone who’s prohibited to do anything exciting, and feel anything exciting, or too saddening, or anything extreme. She was not supposed to…” Heeseung explains, putting his car in the emergency parking because he was not able to tell this while driving because of his own tears. “But that day… she had a major attack, something they haven’t seen before that they thought they were going to lose y/n much earlier than they expected.” 

Sunghoon had tears uncontrollably leaving his eyes as he was reminded of everything. He had signs, unbelievably many times, but he was dumb enough to ignore it. 

Like how you were not supposed to be surprised at any cost. Like how you didn’t drink coffee even though you always lick your lips when you see it. Like how you’re only eating fruits and vegetables. Like how you said you literally cannot breathe when he took you out. Like when you didn’t go to school for days straight and when you did you looked almost nothing like you did when you first talked. Like how after that day you stumbled ‘on your own feet’ while walking straight. 

How can he not know?

“Y/n always said it’s not your fault, Sunghoon. So don’t blame yourself for it,” He didn’t even realize Heeseung had continued driving, calmed himself. 

He cannot bring himself to be angry at anyone but himself, so his voice was low.

“How can it not be me, Heeseung? When I was the one closest to her for that one month? When she showed me she was also holding on to life but I didn’t even bother asking? How can I not blame myself for it, Heeseung?” He cries out, massaging his forehead. 

“You’ll know later, Sunghoon.” Heeseung smiles at him, “You’ll know.” 

Sunghoon thought he had no tears left to cry after Chung-ah. Because after all, he promised to come back to you. To always come back to you. And he was going to. He had just cried a lot because of course, Chung-ah, but also the time he had lost with you. 

You also had golden time, time he should not have taken for granted, but how come he’s only getting to cherish everything now? 

D-0

“We’re here…” Heeseung parks his car outside of a humble house, and Sunghoon had never felt so nervous and happy and devastated at the same time. “We can go once you’re ready.” Heeseung waits outside his car as he also prepares himself, waiting for Sunghoon. 

Sunghoon, meanwhile, was breathing heavily to calm himself. He was strong. He should show you he is. That way, you can leave with no worries. And that he should not be wasting any second now of a golden chance. 

Sunghoon opens the car door and smiles at Heeseung, nodding at him. They both sigh in agreement and finally make their way inside, as they’re welcomed by Seol-in.

“She’s upstairs.” Seol-in already had red eyes and nose, still weeping as she hugged herself. She was finally going to see what her best friend has been waiting hopefully for, nodding at Sunghoon. Sunghoon makes his way upstairs slowly, Heeseung and Seol-in following closely behind. Heeseung smiles at Seol-in sweetly as he takes her by his side, rubbing her arms to calm her down.

Sunghoon is welcomed and greeted by her father outside her door, glasses fogged up from his tears that he muffles. When he meets eyes with Sunghoon, he immediately pulls him into a fatherly hug and pats him.

“Thank you, son."

Sunghoon nods at him and can’t help his eyes well up with tears, breathing heavily yet again as he takes ahold of the knob. 

He takes a step inside and finally, finally sees you, your back facing him as you sit on a wheelchair, looking out the balcony. He had realized the view was the mountain you had gone together before, only further and clearing of the clouds was happening just after the sunset. 

Sunghoon muffles his cries with the back of his palm before he makes his way to you, at first, unable to take even another step. He looks around, just not at you, because god it still hasn’t sunk in him.

“Go, son. She’s been waiting for you.” Your father encourages him, with Heeseung and Seol-in behind him. He nods, sighing out softly and deeply once again before he takes a step, and another, and another…

“My love,” Sunghoon mumbles out, softly placing his palm on your shoulder. He was so scared of holding you, feeling you’re so fragile to even touch. But when your face lights up and your lips turn to an even bigger smile, Sunghoon drops on his knees to hold both of your hands and kiss them. It was the same position you had back then, but now, you were both smiling.

“You’re here,” You mumble out, and he can see the way your chest is heaving up and down to help you substitute your talking. “I knew you were coming back.” You cup his cheeks and rub it with your thumb, scrunching your nose. “I waited for you.”

“I know you did.” He takes ahold of your hand that held his cheeks, burrowing himself to it because this was the warmth he had missed. 

“Can you transfer me to the seat? I want to sit beside you,” 

“Why? Am I covering your view? I told you, I should be in it,” He strikes the same pose he did when you had a date, earning a laugh from you as he chuckles. 

“And I told you I memorized each of your features.” You boop his nose and he finally transfers you out of your wheelchair to the sofa beside you, sitting as well. You comfortably lean your head on his shoulder, sighing in contentment. 

He takes a minute before he sighs as well, holding your hand.

“I missed you,” You say, smiling.

“I missed you too, y/n… I…” His voice shakes, and once again, he looks faraway to stop his tears. He should look strong. He should appear strong. “...I’m sorry,” 

“Shh,” You pat his hand, “Let’s not make this time to be apologetic to each other, dear. We know and we understand,” You rub his hand reassuringly, but Sunghoon continues to be a disappointment to himself by continuously crying. So you had no choice but to face him with much strength, grabbing his face to face you. 

“I love you, y/n.” He managed to breathe out, his lips quivering. “I love you so much,” 

“I do, too, Sunghoon.” You smile at him. “So much. I love you,” 

“And I’m still deeply sorry,” Sunghoon shakes his head softly between your hands, but you hold your smile.

“No, Sunghoon. You don’t need to be because it was my choice.” You explain, “Thank you, Sunghoon. Because I got to hold and had the love you dearly had for me, I was able to last further than what I was promised,” You sigh out, going back to your position as you leaned your head on his shoulder. “Thank you for giving me that. For giving me life… And for keeping your promise.” 

Sunghoon feels contented and ecstatic as he just let it all out, the anxiety, the regrets, everything. What was important was now he was here beside you, and he was always going to be. He lets your warmth embrace his, for the last time. He was able to say everything he had wanted to say, and he feels contented. 

“And now that you’re back as you promised… I’m really happy… I think I can rest peacefully now.” Sunghoon nods and sighs in preparedness. He was prepared. He was okay with it. He’ll be okay. 

“You did so well holding out, y/n.” He pats your hand, then rubs your cheeks as he feels your eyes drape down. “You did so so well. You can rest now,” 

“I’m sleepy, Sunghoon.” Sunghoon’s eyes drift towards the view as he hums your favorite song to lull you to sleep. 

And when he feels your hand slowly break away from his, followed by the warmth he loved slowly fading away from the cold… he stops. He softly places a kiss on your forehead. 

“I love you. Goodnight, dear.” 

To, Park Sunghoon

Ever since we were freshies, I had always had my eye on you. If you weren’t so famous, I would’ve straight up asked you out already. That is one of the biggest regrets of my life. For not asking you out sooner. 

Because what if I did? Would you have agreed?

When I first introduced the offer to you, I didn’t even think about it twice. When I heard I’ve got months to live, I wanted you to be part of it. Because you were such a big part of my college! And my college was a big part of my life! Should I just give up it like that?

When you declined, of course I was heartbroken. And when you told me that it had wrong impressions of intentions, it broke my heart more. I should’ve thought about what you have felt if I put you in that situation, so I’m sorry. 

Sunghoon, you were such an eye candy. How come anyone -not- like you? And when we’ve finally started hanging out, you were much more than being an eye candy. You’re a bright person who have so much love to give and receive, a person who tries his best at everything, a person who, when fails, does not easily back down. A person who’s really easy to love. 

Sunghoon, I love you.

Please, please, please do not blame yourself for anything. It was my choice to keep it from you, my choice to let you stay with Chung-ah. 

The twenty days was much more than what you could’ve possibly given me. 

I love you, my dear. 

Will always do. Always will. 

Take care of yourself for me?

Love, 

y/n.

[wkemeup]

The Bet

summary: The agents at SHIELD have not taken well to Bucky’s pardon. When he’s injured on a mission under suspicious circumstances, you take matters into your own hands.  

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 7.7k

warnings: canon level violence, bucky’s internalized self-punishing issues, shield agents being real pieces of shit, badass reader who would defend bucky to the death

a/n: I know I’ve been really inactive lately (life’s actually been going well so I’ve been busier but that leaves me less time to write unfortunately), but I’m still lurking here! This is a fic I wrote several months ago but finally got around to editing it. Hope you enjoy!

Bucky wasn’t sure how you managed it – the punch to his gut every time you walked in the room. You were dressed in your tactical suit; black fabric draped over every inch of your body, protective layers of Kevlar and technology beyond Bucky’s years, a weapon strapped to your thigh and knives hidden in your belt and at your ankle. Your hair was tugged out of place, sweat beaded on your temple from the sparring match in the gym moments before the two of you were called to service. In your right hand, you carried your combat boots, the laces hanging low enough to touch the ground.  

And still, Bucky held his breath as you approached. Stomach in knots, chest tightening until his heart threatened to stop entirely.

“My offer is fifty this time,” you announced, winking in his direction before you turned to head for the landing bay. “Take it or leave it, Barnes.”

It was a game you’d been playing since your first mission together. A running bet to determine the better combat fighter. You’d insisted on measuring it not by the number of Hydra agents taken down or the bullets left in the magazine at the end of the mission, but by who walked away with the least damage on their body. A competition in the lack of scars.  

He suspected it was your effort to distract him, to center his mind on something other than the crushing weight on his chest as he stepped into yet another Hydra stronghold. With his pardon only coming through the official channels three months prior and the nightly news still debating whether he should be locked in a psychiatric hospital or executed for his crimes, Bucky didn’t mind a little distraction.  

He wasn’t sure what to make of you at first – this woman who cared so little for the eggshells scattered around his wake. Thin, broken pieces shattered under your steps, sharp edges digging into the soles of your feet and you did not flinch. You never hesitated in your teasing, never withdrew a cautious touch from the hardened steel of his left arm, never treated him as though he were fragile or unhinged. Instead, you placed bets on the outcomes of your shared missions as if his lethality was something to respect, to admire.  

Part of him wondered whether it was your attempt to keep him unharmed. The winner would have the least number of cuts and bruises – the least physical pain endured. Bucky had no problem using his body as the weapon it was designed to be, even if it meant being reckless in his own skin. It was what he’d been trained to do for decades; constantly reminded that his body was not his own to command, not his own to protect and shield. The mission came first. The mission always came first. Above his safety. Above his comfort. Above his sanity. Hydra cared little for how damaged he walked away from a fight as long as he did as he was ordered. But not you.  

No, you never could seem to hide the subtle twitch of relief as he won bet after bet. How your shoulders seemed to lose the tension aching in your muscles as you handed over the winnings he did not want. Because it meant you’d lost – that you’d been injured more than he had – and Bucky wanted no part in celebrating such a win.  

“I don’t want your money, Y/n,” Bucky said as he did before each mission. He fell in line beside you as rookies parted down the hallway with each approaching step. Most kept their head down, eyes averted. But not all. Some openly stared at him as if they might bore holes into his tactical suit. 

“Who says I’m paying you shit?” you scoffed, a smirk edging at the corner of your mouth. “Fifty, Barnes. You on or what?”

Bucky chuckled. “Yeah, fine. I’m in.”

You walked with a slight bounce in your step after he agreed and Bucky could not stop the smile as it tugged on his cheeks.  

By the time you reached the quinjet, the team of agents was huddled in the loading dock awaiting orders. Steve stood with a hand leaning against the pilot’s chair, the other hooked on the font of his belt. The rest of the team – a group of highly trained SHIELD agents dressed in full combat gear tensed as Bucky followed you onto the jet.  

“Thanks for joining us,” Steve welcomed sarcastically though there was humor in his grin. You rolled your eyes and held up your unlaced boots as if that would be answer enough that you were caught off guard for the unplanned mission.  

“Not all of us wait eagerly outside Fury’s door for scraps of adrenaline,” you teased and tossed a wink over your shoulder at Bucky.  

Steve bit his tongue to hold back a laugh. He turned to one of the agents lingering by the cockpit. “Get us in the air.”  

“Yes, sir,” the agent responded and quickly jumped into the pilot’s seat.  

Steve made his way to the table at the center of the jet where the building’s schematics were illuminated in three dimensional holographic lasers. Bucky exhaled a heavy breath as he followed, studying the lights as they detailed every inch of the building he would infiltrate in a matter of a few hours. He kept his right hand down by his side in an effort to not reach out and touch the floating blueprints.

“Y/n will lead Team B through the back entrance and up to the second floor,” Steve explained as he widened the schematics with a single swipe of his hand. The floor print zoomed into the level he was describing.

“Meanwhile, I’ll lead Team A through the main floor,” he continued and adjusted the visual to display the path he intended to take. “We’ll come in hot through the primary entrance. Draw as much attention as we can. That’ll give Bucky the time he needs to track down the Berlin files.”

Bucky swallowed as many of the agents turned to look at him. Steve had briefed him ahead of time on the mission so he knew he would be taking this one on his own. He knew the building better than anyone else, better than anyone who had studied the blueprints. He knew Hydra better than anyone else. Whether he was stored in this particular site was irrelevant. He understood how Hydra operated, enough to determine where they’d keep the sort of information that could bring the organization to its knees. It made the most sense.  

Clinical. Rational.  

“He’s going alone?” you questioned, your voice quieter than Bucky was expecting. Your focus was solely on Steve, brows knotted at the center. There was a soft waver of concern in your tone he was sure did not go unnoticed by the rest of the team. You’d seen Bucky’s right-hand curl to an aching fist enough times at the mention of his former captors. You knew the wounds were still fresh, the ink on his pardon barely dried.  

Steve nodded reluctantly. “We’re going to make a lot of noise, but don’t mistake me. This is a stealth op. Giving Bucky a team is only going to slow him down.”

“You could at least give him back up,” you argued, the gentle hesitancy dropped from your tone. Your hands planted firmly on your hips. Tension coated thick into the room.  

Bucky was about to step in, to put a careful hand on your shoulder and tell you he could handle himself just fine, that there was nothing to worry about. Maybe he’d crack a joke. Maybe then he could brush off your concerns and the knots in his stomach as simple worry for a reliable partner. But one of the senior agents – Hanning – cleared his throat first.  

“She’s right, Cap,” Hanning said. “It’s not a good idea to send him in alone.”

You exhaled a sigh of relief, looking to Steve with a challenging smirk, but Bucky knew Hanning’s words for what they were. His stomach bottomed as he started to reach for you, to pull you back from the room before you could hear the rest of what Hanning was surely about to say. Bucky could read it on each of the agents’ faces – how they all looked down their noses at him, how thier gazes flickered to the reflection of his left arm in disgust, how they tensed the moment he stepped on board the jet. Humiliation burned hot in his cheeks before Hanning even uttered another word.  

“See!” you hit Steve lightly on the arm. You grinned back in Bucky’s direction and did not see the dread weighing in his eyes. “Just give him two guys. Just enough to make sure he’s—”

“—watched. We all know the Winter Soldier can’t be trusted alone in a Hydra facility.”  

You stilled at Hanning’s words. Bucky watched the edge of your jaw flicker as you clenched the muscle, your hands gripping tight to the edge of the table. Bucky wondered if it might splinter under your hold.  

“Excuse me?” Venom dripped from your tongue on every syllable.  

“You said it yourself,” Hanning replied with a short shrug of his shoulders, as if you had simply misheard him. “The Winter Soldier shouldn’t be left on his own. No telling what he’d do unsupervised. Especially around his old buddies.”

You flinched – actually flinched.  

To Bucky, this wasn’t anything new. The serum has cursed him with heightened senses strong enough to overhear the quiet whispering when he entered the gym, the nervous murmuring of rookie agents who had grown up on ghost stories of his most prolific crimes. He noticed every frantic skip of a frightened heartbeat and every cold, seething glare of an agent whose loathing outweighed that of his fear. There was little room for anything else amongst the agents within SHEILD.  

You – and only a few others among the Avengers – were the exception.  

His pardon was conditional. He couldn’t afford the kind of trouble these agents were egging him into. One step out of line and he’d find himself with a lifetime sentence on the raft. Maybe that was what he deserved, but he couldn’t risk retaliating against the agents, couldn’t so much as chance a bitter word thrown back in their faces. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to admit that it was only in fear of not seeing you again that held his tongue.  

Bucky had grown numb to the taunts and the stares long before he stepped foot in the tower. He knew how to keep his head down, how to swallow back his pride at the expense of his dignity. He learned how to endure the humiliation, the shame. Hydra had taught him well.  

You, however, did not tolerate it.  

“He can’t be trusted, Cap,” Hanning went on, turning to meet Steve’s warning stare. “We’ve lost too many guys to his friends at Hydra. I don’t care what papers the President signed. You can’t let the Winter Soldier—”

“Stop calling him that,” you hissed, pounding a fist against the table. The holographic blueprints flared in response. “I said Bucky should have support in the field. Not a fucking parole officer!”

Hanning rolled his eyes; a dangerous choice to make to mock a superior agent in front of her own team. Steam billowed from your ears as several of the agents behind him began to laugh. Hanning wiped his thumb over his bottom lip, his gaze slipping down the length of your body as if to size you up, but he lingered too long. A power move, Bucky deciphered. A means to belittle you. Bucky gritted his teeth.  

“He’s a war criminal,” Hanning challenged, ignoring Bucky’s calculated step in your direction.  

“He was a prisoner of war!” you shot back, voice raising on every word. “Who was pardoned, by the way!”

“You think that changes anything? A piece of paper doesn’t erase the shit he’s done. Doesn’t bring back any of the SHIELD agents he murdered. Doesn’t make him any less of fuckin’ monster and we shouldn’t have to put up with his—”

“Enough!” Steve ordered, slamming a hand down on the table. The blueprints flickered out until the table powered down. “Hanning, get your men in order. I don’t want to hear another goddamn word out of you until we’re back in New York. Y/n, walk it off. We land in an hour.”

Betrayal seethed in your eyes as your gaze whipped to Steve. You expected him to defend Bucky as fiercely as you did, but Bucky knew better, as did Steve. Steve’s involvement would only worsen the division between Bucky and the rest of the team. They’d turn themselves into martyrs; jump on their high horse and twist Steve’s defense to align with what they already believed – that the Winter Soldier was dangerous, untrustworthy, and corrupted everything he touched. Including the Avengers and SHIELD itself.  

And maybe they were right, but it wasn’t a fight you had to be a part of. He worked very hard to ensure you knew little of it at all.  

You clamped your jaw shut to keep yourself from handing Captain America his ass next and quickly turned on your heels. Your hand slid around Bucky’s wrist and without much resistance, you dragged him along with you to the other side of the jet. There, you sank against the bench along the frame of the cargo hold and began sliding your hands along your thighs. As he watched you, Bucky wondered if you might tear the fabric of your suit with how intensely you were digging your palms into the muscle.  

“Hanning’s an asshole,” you grumbled. “Don’t listen to him. He doesn’t know shit.”

You spoke as if you believed it was an isolated incident – a single, rare occurrence he should brush off his shoulders – and perhaps you did. Perhaps you truly believed that no agent would be as brazen as to mock the former Winter Soldier to his face, but you would be wrong. Their confidence grew each time he kept his head down, each time he swallowed back the rage and humiliation at their taunts.  

Bucky sighed, sinking down on the bench beside you. Your hands were still raking against your thighs, your pointed glare still finding its way to the agents huddled on the opposite end of the jet. He figured if he didn’t say something soon, you might lose the battle for your better judgements and take a swing at Hanning before the jet so much as crossed Hydra airspace.  

“Make it a hundred.”

You furrowed your brow, your gaze shifting to him. Already, your features began to soften. Your hands stilled against your knees. “What?”

“The bet,” Bucky clarified, forcing a smile. It didn’t touch his eyes and it ached, but it was all he could muster. “Make it a hundred this time.”

A smirk slowly lifted the corners of your mouth and Bucky felt a weight slip off his chest.  

“You’re on.”

***

“Do you want know what I’m going to do with your money when I win?”

Bucky dug his teeth into his bottom lip to repress a determined smile as your labored voice crackled through his coms. He could hear the static of the radio waves and the frequent draw of your breath as you led your team in combat on the second level. You’d learned early on to switch your coms to an off-channel frequency while you were separated. Steve was the only one who was aware of the isolated channel, but he knew better than to listen in unannounced.  

“Huh, Barnes?” you challenged. He could practically see your smile edging up your cheeks. “Should I tell you how I’m going to spend your hard-earned cash?”

“You do remember you’re the one engaged in combat right now and I’m on an abandoned floor alone, right? Do you hear those odds?” Bucky smirked to himself, imagining the hard roll of your eyes as you scoffed into the coms.  

“You’re not as stealthy as you think, Barnes. Maybe you’ll stub your toe on a desk. Don’t underestimate my skill against these... amateurs,” you spat the last word as if to make a point to the man you were currently barreling a fist into. “Now let me tell you how I’m going to waste your money.”

“Go on,” Bucky chuckled. He stalked through the empty hallway, passing by old offices and labs as he scanned in search of the vault in question. Hydra was rather predictable that way.  

“Well,” you exhaled and clearly threw a punch at your opponent by the grunt that followed, “Sam’s birthday is coming up."

Bucky froze in his tracks; any trace of a grin wiped from his features. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Your laugh echoed in his ears and damn, if it wasn’t the sweetest sound he’d ever heard – took him right out of the Hydra facility he wandered through, out of the memories attached to the lifeless, concrete rooms, and brought levity back to his chest. How you managed to do that while fighting your way through a hoard of Hydra agents was beyond him.  

He turned into a promising office at the end of the hallway. Lavish enough to be one of the higher officer’s, with priceless stolen art on the walls and a desk chair that resembled a small throne. He rolled his eyes.  

“Six ahead! Erikson, McKinley! Go now!” You shot an order at one of your men before returning focus back to your side conversation with Bucky. He smiled at the sharpness of your tone – the authority, the respect you commanded. Just as easily, your tone shifted to the gentle teasing reserved only for him. “Maybe I’ll replace the side camera on Redwing you shattered in Guatamala last month.”

Bucky groaned and drew out your name in a long, exasperated tone as he began fumbling through a pile of stray papers on the messy desk.  You started to laugh again and Bucky couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the ends of his mouth. It was damn near infectious.  

“Fine, fine.” Your voice was breathless; either from the fight or the laughter, Bucky wasn’t sure. “I might venture a trip out to Coney Island. I hear they have life changing soft serve.”

Bucky chuckled just as he tore open a locked drawer, shifting through the contents. “You’d have a hell of a lot of cash left over.”

“Well let’s see,” you began, a short pause followed as you knocked out another combatant. Bucky could hear the thud of the body at your feet. “Two tickets on the train, two world-renown ice cream cones. It adds up, Barnes.”

Bucky furrowed his brow. A sudden unwelcomed pit formed in his stomach as he straightened his back, his hands slipping from their task at the desk. He swallowed, though his throat was dry.  

“Two? Who would you—”

“Are you really telling me you don’t want to show me around your old stomping grounds?” you teased, as if he should have assumed you’d only ever been talking about him. “I can be generous with your money, Buck. I’ll even treat you to a funnel cake if you want.”

Butterflies swarmed in his stomach, his teeth gnawing at his lips to suppress the grin and the flush in his cheeks. He didn’t dare look up at the Hydra symbol painted on the wall ahead of him, but he wondered then if the memory of it might have any effect at all in the wake of your laughter through the coms.

“That so?” he managed to reply, trying to find a piece of himself from the forties that could talk to a woman without stumbling over his words. His heart was pounding. Thundering. His hands gripped the edge of the desk in effort to stop the shaking of adrenaline, but it was such a lovely feeling.  

“I might even win you a stuffed animal.”  

Bucky exhaled as if it might relieve the pleasant aching in his cheeks. “Those games are rigged, you know.”

“I have my tricks.”

A throat cleared at the doorway.  

Bucky jolted, his hand on the trigger and safety unlatched before he got a good look at the face of the man watching him from the hallway. His smile fell as he froze – the sound of your voice calling to him through the coms went unanswered. You must have heard the sudden hitch in his breath, noticed just by the short gasp of air that something was wrong.  

Hanning didn’t so much as flinch as he stared down the barrel of Bucky’s gun. His arms were folded over his chest, his shoulder leaning against the doorframe. Bucky didn’t dare wonder how long he’d been there watching. He was losing his edge. Distracted in the one place he was supposed to be clinical above all else.  

Slowly, Bucky lowered the gun and latched the safety. Hanning cracked his neck to the side as six of his men emerged from the hall behind him. Bucky gritted his teeth and raised a hand to his coms.  

“I’m going dark.”

No time at all passed before you argued, “don’t you dare! Not while you’re out there alone.”

Bucky kept clear watch of Hanning and the six agents slowly making their way into the room, knuckles cracking against their hips, stretching their arms. A quiet anger simmered under the surface – boiling in his veins though no steam would release him from the rage it carried.  

“I found the vault,” he said, the lie slipping too easily off his tongue. “It’s heavily armored. It’ll cause interference. I’ll meet you on the jet.”

He didn’t like the short clinical statements he was giving you, as if you were little more than a handler requesting report. It wasn’t like him and you knew it.  

“No. Tell me where you are. I’ll come to you.” Desperation clouded into your voice.  

“I said I’ll meet you on the jet,” he replied sharply; harsher than he ever intended to be with you, but Hanning’s patience was wearing thin and Bucky would not stomach you being able to hear what was about to happen.  

“Okay.” You were quieter now, your breaths more labored. Bucky’s stomach wrung in knots. “Just be careful.”

He turned off the coms before regret could sink in.  

“No more Avenger in your ear now, huh?” Hanning jeered, a cockeyed smirk hanging on the left edge of his mouth. He shook his head, a darkness sinking into his features when Bucky refused to answer. “Christ. She’s just as pathetic as the groupie sluts camping outside the tower.”

“Leave her out of this,” Bucky growled. He knew full well of the crowd who chanted his name, holding picket signs in support of an innocence he wasn’t sure belonged to him. Bucky wasn’t convinced they knew much of anything about his crimes. He often wondered if they would still draw hearts around his name if they knew the volume of blood on his hands.  

Hanning scoffed. “She used to be a damn good agent before you started fucking with her head, you know that? Maybe if I take her to bed next, she’ll start defending my honor, too.”

The desk cracked under Bucky’s grip; splintered under his palms. It didn’t matter that he’d never touched you in that way. Didn’t matter that he hadn’t so much as whispered a breath to the torch he carried for you. But reputation and rumor weighed stronger than truth. And Hanning didn’t seem to mind which served him best.

“We both know why you’re here, Hanning,” Bucky said, his voice taunt in the effort. “Stop beating around the bush.”

A vicious smirk warped Hanning’s features as he signaled to his men. Bucky steeled himself – an agonizing, familiar feeling – and he waited for the first blow to land.  

***

Bucky took his time returning to the jet. He didn’t bother turning his coms back on after he begrudgingly tore open the vault door at the back of the office and obtained the files SHIELD was after. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to stomach the onset of questions you’d throw his way, the inevitable concern in your voice, or the lies that would slip too easily from his tongue.  

You and Steve would have already returned to the quinjet by now and he was certain you were wearing a tread into the floor of the debrief room. If he closed his eyes, he might have been able to picture your arms folded tightly across your chest, the scowl creating lines down your forehead, and the hushed grumble as you muttered under your breath, eyes constantly darting back to the door in search of him.

Bucky took no pleasure in his lies. He did not enjoy the slight hitch of concern in your voice as you begged him to stay on coms. No— it tore into his chest in such a way he was left wondering if there would be anything left at all if he continued this way.  

But you couldn’t know.  

You couldn’t know the truth of how far men like Hanning would go to appease their fragile egos. How agents of an organization you dedicated your life to abused their power and a loophole in the system to ensure they could pull one over on the Winter Soldier in favor of bragging rights and a misguided sense of justice. You couldn’t know it wasn’t Hydra that left him bruised and battered after these missions, but instead the agents under your watch.  

Bucky paused as he came up on the ramp to the back of the jet. In the vague reflection of the charcoal surface was a trail of welts and bruising covering most of his face. Red had seeped into the white of his left eye. The center of his bottom lip was split open; blood dripped down his chin and left stray droplets against the chest of his jacket. He quickly brushed his wrist against his mouth, smearing the blood onto his hand instead and made his way inside.  

Hanning was standing at the edge of the debrief room as his team passed behind him. He raised his hand to you in what appeared to be a mocking salute. You did not react; your arms folded over your chest just as Bucky had imagined and an irritable glare compressed most of your features. But your eyes shifted to the bloody and broken skin on Hanning’s knuckles as his lowered his hand back to his side. You turned and watched him as he joined the rest of the agents.  

Bucky swallowed and pressed the button at the mouth of the jet to retract the ramp. While you were distracted by Hanning, Bucky shook his hair into his face, keeping his head down, and made his way to the debrief room as he was required to do. He would not be able to hide the damage to his face for long, but if he could at least conceal your reaction from Hanning and the rest of the team, it might be enough to preserve what remained of his dignity.  

You turned and walked back inside the debrief room and Bucky exhaled a heavy breath. As he followed shortly in behind you, he wasn’t surprised to find you had quickly resumed pacing along the back wall of the room. The carpet was slightly discolored under your path.  

Only when Bucky closed the door behind him did you notice his presence.  

You froze, eyes darting across the room. The relief that sank your shoulders was instant, but brief, because the moment you took in more than just his physical body safe inside the jet, a wash of anger and panic absorbed any traces of solace.  

You rushed across the room to him, hands hovering over his shoulders, his forearms, his torso – as if you were seeking to touch him but would not dare to lay a hand upon his body in fear of shattering him whole. Your eyes frantically scanned the open scarring and bruising on his face, searching for more wounds you could not see.  

“What the hell happened to you?” You made no effort to obscure the panic trembling in your voice.  

“Hydra,” he replied shortly, the lie tasting bitter on his tongue. He looked across the room to Steve, who was standing with his back leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. Reluctance clouded the blues of his eyes but he did not contradict Bucky’s story.

“There shouldn’t have been anyone on that floor. You said it was abandoned! That was the whole point of drawing them all to us. You should have been clear!” you tried to reason and shot a glance at Steve to confirm, but his gaze lowered to the floor. You pinched the bridge of your nose as you turned your attention back to Bucky. “Did you get the files at least? Since you insisted on turning off your damn coms to get them?”

Your anger was a mask. Bucky could tell that much for certain by how your eyes shifted consistently to the blood in his left eye and the split on his lip. Fear was not an emotion you took kindly to, especially a fear you had no means of controlling.  

Bucky steeled his features the best he could and pulled the rolled file from the inside pocket of his jacket. Blood stained the corners of the crumpled folder and he set it on the table behind you. You did not seem even remotely satisfied by its presence.  

“Why wouldn’t you just tell us you’d been compromised?” you argued, shoving the folder further down the table. “I could have sent back up to you! Dammit Bucky, I would have come to you myself! You know I would have!”

Steve cleared his throat as he stepped away from the wall, a pleading heaviness filling his eyes as his head shifted towards you – a means of begging Bucky to come forward with the truth. You deserved as much, didn’t you? You cared for him for reasons beyond what Bucky could comprehend. But there would always be that sliver of doubt; that sickening voice in the back of his mind that questioned whether you might think he deserved the retaliation he got. Bucky only shook his head at Steve to warn him into silence.  

Your eyes narrowed on him, gaze following his path to Steve and back. Your instincts were not something Bucky should tread lightly around if he was intent on keeping this from you, and yet – there was some ache of relief to see the questions spinning behind your eyes, the stubbornness drawn to the surface to simply accept his ruse and pretend as though he wasn’t beaten into submission.  

Just as you parted your lips, you paused; your attention caught on the monitors just beyond Bucky’s shoulder. Upon one of the screens, Hanning was dramatically mimicking a fight scene to the entertainment of the surrounding agents. The video carried no sound but it was not easy to mistake the arrogant grin upon Hanning’s face as he showed off the bloodied cuts on his knuckles. Bucky resisted touching the bruise along his jawline.  

Bucky watched as you slowly moved closer to the monitor, studying every muscle in your body as you deciphered what you were seeing. Perhaps he might have been able to play it off as another one of Hanning’s pathetic attempts at boosting his ego by dramatizing a basic combat training move against a weak-willed Hydra agent, but while some of the agents looked to Hanning as if he were a god among men, some carefully – fearfully – looked over their shoulders to the debrief room. As if they were awaiting retaliation. Or punishment.  

Bucky swallowed bile as your spine suddenly went taunt. A gasp drew in a sharp breath to your lungs as you quickly turned to Bucky for confirmation. Suddenly he couldn’t speak – not with the way your eyes were pleading with him to deny it. You turned to Steve next and it only took a second before you saw the weight in his eyes, the truth he’d been hiding at the will of his best friend – how it ate away at him until there was little left. Your hand clasped over your mouth.  

“I’ll be outside,” Steve said quietly, sending an apologetic look in Bucky’s direction.

When the door closed behind him, you turned back to Bucky, waiting for him to say something – anything – to help you understand what happened. Hanning was an asshole, but to do something like this was unheard of. To attack a member of their own team under the ruse of a mission...

And maybe he should have confessed everything then and there, but his own fears were too strong – the possibility you might laugh in his face and side with Hanning, that you might believe him to be as vile and violent as the rest of them, undeserving of a second chance.  

So instead of an explanation, he reached into his back pocket and watched as your face contorted into something akin to horror and grief as he handed you a crumbled hundred-dollar bill. His hand trembled as he extended it to you.  

“What are you doing?” Your voice was barely a whisper; gaze fixated on the speckles of blood on the corners and under his nails.  

Bucky released a breath, though it burned on his exhale. “You won.”

You looked as though you might suffocate under the silence that sank into the room. Tears blurred into your eyes as you slowly took the bill from him, your fingertips lingering against his hand, and tossed it onto the table behind you as if the paper had burned you.  

“I don’t care about the stupid bet, Bucky! I don’t... I don’t want your money! I never wanted your money. Not ever,” you told him, voice shaking. You clenched your right hand into a fist as if it might quell the lump building in the back of your throat. “How long has this been happening?”

Bucky’s own throat was coated in gravel. “It doesn’t matter.”

“So, it has happened before.”

His stomach bottomed as he realized he’d given himself up. You were always too smart for him, too smart to fall for this pathetic ruse. He should have known better than to think he could keep this from you. He prepared himself for your anger, for your disappointment, for your mockery, but instead something akin to guilt sank into your features and Bucky swore his knees might give out entirely.  

“Our own men have gone after you like this... they’ve beaten you on these missions, reported it off as field injuries, and I... I just didn’t know?”  

You brushed at your tears. Bucky suddenly felt nauseous.  

“This isn’t your fault,” he said quickly, giving up on any attempts at concealing his lies further. He could not stand for you to think that you played a single role in this mess. This was on him. Only him. You were only ever the light in his darkest days. You could not hold an ounce of blame for what happened. He wouldn’t allow it.  

“You were in the med bay last month,” you realized suddenly, an awful mix of remorse and agony coating your features. “You were separated from the team when you were jumped. You said... You said it was Kingpin’s men but... it wasn’t, was it? SHIELD agents put you there. They were the ones who attacked you.”

Bucky clenched his jaw, his hand curling tightly to a fist as if that might stop the trembling. “This isn’t your burden to carry. I can take care of myself.”

“Not my burden?” you scoffed. “Look at you! Jesus, Buck. How is this even possible? You should be able to take these assholes on without breaking a sweat! I’ve seen you spar. I’ve fought alongside you. I know what you can do! Hanning barely has a scratch on him. You should have been able to knock him on his ass without—”

You froze and slowly, your shoulders sank.  

“God,” you exhaled, the realization shattering every inch inside your chest as you met his eyes. “You don’t fight back. You can’t, can you? Your pardon. It’s—”

“—conditional,” Bucky sighed and ran a hand through his matted hair. “One word to the council that I’ve stepped out of line and they could revoke it. I could end up on the raft for the rest of my life. And maybe... maybe I belong there anyway but I’m trying to better. To right the wrongs I’ve done. To... to be on the right side of things again. I can’t do that from behind bars. And if word got out I’m throwing punches at the good guys, that’s exactly where I’ll end up.”

“I won’t let that happen,” you swore, wasting no time in your promise. Before he realized it, you were standing only inches from him, your fingertips gently tracing the golden lines on his left hand. He wondered then how he could have ever feared mockery and disgust from a woman who touched him so tenderly.  

A tired smile tugged at his broken lip. “Steve doesn’t even have the power to intervene if it came to that. Let this go, Y/n. I can take a few punches if it means getting a chance to start over.”  

You winced at his words, clenching your jaw as if to choke back a sob. “You can’t keep letting them do this to you. I won’t let you.”

“What would you have me do?” Bucky asked, his voice absent of anger or challenge. It simply carried the heaviness of defeat, of acceptance. “You know what would happen if I gave the council a single reason to doubt which side I’m on. My hands are tied.”  

He realized his mistake the moment a deadly calm swept over you. Clarity, like standing under the eye of storm. Your gaze darted to the monitor where Hanning was still mimicking his fight with Bucky.

“Y/n, wait!”

But you were already halfway out of the room. You did not turn back at Bucky’s plea as you stormed around the corner of the short stretch of hall and into the primary deck of the quinjet. Steve straightened from his position leaning against the wall, his eyes darting behind you where Bucky was quickly following behind. But it was not Steve you’d come in search of.  

Hanning was laughing with a hoard of his men, gathered around the holograph table worth more than any of their miserable lives combined. He rolled his eyes at the sight of you, making a mockery of the fury raging into every line upon your face as you sought him out as he swatted his buddy on the arm.  

The bastard even had the unearned arrogance to smirk as he foolishly turned his attention to Bucky. “Enlisting your girlfriend to fight your battles for you, huh?”

You did not so much as slow your pace, did not draw in a full breath or acknowledge the slight furrow in Hanning’s brow before you threw a punch directly to his left cheekbone. He cursed as he jolted away from you, hands flying to his face as blood began to gush down his nose.  

“What the fuck is wrong with—”

You didn’t give him time to finish before you grabbed a firm hold of his collar and tossed him to the floor. Agents scrambled out of your warpath as you stalked after him.

Hanning looked up at Steve, holding onto his broken nose. Blood seeped from between his fingers. “Do something!”

Steve did not avert his gaze as he replied, “I didn’t see anything.”

Hanning’s eyes widened as you dropped to your knees beside him and fisted his collar. “Sergeant Barnes may not be able to fight back without breaking his pardon, but I sure as hell can. And unlike you, I don’t need my fights rigged to win. Lay a hand on him again and I’ll ensure you walk away from your next mission on a fucking stretcher!”

Hanning clawed at your grip, fear seeping through every line upon his face. “You can’t threaten me!”  

“Wanna bet?” Your nails nearly tore through the Kevlar fabric of Hanning’s shirt. “I’m an Avenger, asshole. You’re no one. I can make sure you’re transferred to the furthest corner of this planet. You’ll wish you were in space with the tree and the goddamn racoon!”

Hanning’s panicked eyes darted back to Steve who only shrugged and turned his attention to the passing of clouds outside the cockpit windows.

Bucky couldn’t help the smirk as it tugged at his mouth. He folded his arms firmly over his chest, sinking back into his stance. This image of you – baring your teeth, vicious in every muscle, seething in defense of him – was one he would commit to memory. He’d return to it in his darkest hours when he could find no answer for the cruel voices in the back of his mind – to draw upon this moment to chase away his demons with your anger and protection.  

“Are we clear?” you ordered when Hanning was too stunned to respond. He nodded frantically, as did the rest of the crew. You released Hanning’s collar and he fell to the ground with a heavy thud. He stayed still as stone as you slowly rose to your feet and brushed off his blood on the thighs of your pants.  

Your chest heavy and steady – each breath longer than the last. You did not tear your eyes away from Hanning for even a second, ensuring he felt every ounce of the rage burning inside of you.  

Bucky took a step forward, unbothered by the stares of the agents as he approached you. He set a hand on your shoulder, instantly noting the rigid tension in your muscles.  

“Come with me,” he requested, his voice quiet enough only you could have heard him. You expelled a breath as if it were made of fire and slowly followed him from the room.  

Bucky stepped inside the debriefing room first. He looked to the windows where clouds were passing by below the jetstream. Steady. Even. He took as much of their calm as he could manage and picked up the crumpled hundred dollar bill from the table. When he turned to face you again, he attempted to hand you the money but you held your hands up defensively and took a cautious step backward.  

“Bucky, no. Please, I don’t want it,” you resisted, your voice hollow and pained. “I only made the stupid bet to get you to stop being so reckless. I don’t want your money.”

He smiled at your stubbornness, at your scheming means to keep him safe. Bucky inched closer to you, extending his left palm up until you cautiously set your hand in his. His thumb drew a careful line along your palm and you watched him with such startling precision, he wondered if you might have been committing the feeling to memory.  

“What happened to our plans for Coney Island?” he asked softly.

Tears spilled over your cheekbones as a tired laugh escaped you. He pressed the bill into your palm and closed your grip around it – holding it tight at the center of your hand as gently as you might his own heart.  

“I should have said something the first time it happened,” Bucky said quietly, his gaze still fixated on your closed fist resting on his palm. “I’m sorry I didn’t.”

You shook your head. “You don’t need to apologize for anything.”

“No, I do.” He sighed, concentrating on the smooth skin of your hand. He skimmed his thumb along the tender skin on your knuckles, his heart suddenly heavy in his chest. “You didn’t even hesitate to defend me. Didn’t even second guess why they might have gone after me. You... you didn't question if I deserved it.”

Your face slacked at his admission. “Bucky...”

“I should have told you,” he repeated despite the burden of grief in your voice. He knew now that if he’d offered you a share of this weight from the start, that maybe it wouldn’t have gotten this far. Hanning wouldn’t have planned each mission to ensure he cornered Bucky on his own and got in enough swings to fuel his pathetic, sheltered ego. Maybe Bucky wouldn’t have spent so long believing this was his penance.  

You lifted your free hand to the side of his face, gently settling against the bruising to cup his cheek. He closed his eyes, sinking into the feeling. Your thumb brushed along a tender ache on his cheekbone but there was no pain under your touch.  

“I know now,” you told him softly, “and it won’t ever happen again.”

Bucky smiled though it tugged at the split on his lip. “I know.”

You lowered your hand from his face and gently pushed the hundred-dollar bill back towards him. “Take this back, Buck. Take it back and promise we’ll still go to Coney Island.”

Bucky closed his fist around the crumpled bill and slowly nodded. You did not release his hand. You did not pull away. You only held him – touched him as though you could not stand to pull away from him.  

“I swear it,” he exhaled, his gaze still fixated on your hands.  

You sighed, relief slipping through your body as you smiled at him. “Think you can win me a giant bear?”

Bucky chuckled and he didn’t mind when the split on his lip ached as he smiled. “Should we bet on it?”  

---

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

[raenegade-accio]

Beware the following mindless deranged rambling that randomly hit me at 3am, but I can't be the only one who felt this way when playing for the first time...

Not having Officer Singer conspiring with Rookwood was a big fat missed opportunity

And whether it was intentional or not, it was all perfectly laid out for a plot like this since the start!

From her first theatrically heroic appearance in Hogsmeade:

As a Magical Law Enforcement Officer, I assume Singer is equipped with the basic knowledge of evacuation procedures e.g. steeling all persons away from the ongoing threat and ensuring they exit the area safely.

But what did she do instead?

Luring the massive troll into rampaging further into Hogsmeade, leaving a pair of 15-year-olds completely out in the open, vulnerable to new imminent dangers. And sure enough, as soon as MC and Natty/Sebastian were alone, another troll bursted in, mere seconds after Singer left the scene.

What's not to say she was only there to clear of any potential civilian witnesses, using the first troll to scare them away under the guise of doing her job, while the second troll quickly comes crashing in, with MC being served up in a silver platter.

Later we saw Singer comes running back and is understandably surprised to see MC unscathed. We get this strange piece of dialogue:

She didn't bother assessing, or at least securing the crime scene when it's literally the first step to ensure an initial investigation can later be conducted properly. Instead she does the complete opposite by having someone else to practically wipe it clean of anything worth further investigating; there definitely would’ve been debris or bits of damaged armour with lingering traces of dark magic, now all gone. Then she just vanished, leaving a couple of teenagers alone in an deserted area, again.

Later we meet Rookwood for the first time.

From here we learned that Rookwood watched the whole incident unfold, implying he planned to abduct MC at the first chance he got, one which Officer Singer very conveniently provided. The only thing stopping him was seeing the new kid had absolutely Thanos-ed a troll using an unfamiliar form of magic.

And he wasn't exactly discreet either. Rookwood, an infamous criminal gang leaders was allowed to so nonchalantly wander around Hogsmeade in the broad daylight and it was clear he could to barge into public establishments whenever he wanted while openly threatening a pair of minors. A Dark Wizard who was now actively stalking a literal child got to walk away scot-free. Pretty lenient...

At this point it wouldn't be too outrageous to say Singer is systematically participating in organised wizarding crime. Here's an interesting piece of dialogue from Rookwood:

"Favours." now we have proof that Rookwood somewhat has a little power in the Ministry. There could've been a transactional relationship between Rookwood and Singer too.

British policing wasn't exactly well liked; venal and corrupt as it was, elite officers colluding with criminals weren't new.

Assuming it applied to the Wizarding World too.

At the era HL takes place (the 1800s), bribery and cover-ups were daily occurrences, which could garner favours that often came from the very criminals from whom corrupt officers have collected in exchange for "turning a blind eye".

This one's a bit of a stretch to be honest, but it may have explained how Rookwood evidently was able to be as active as he was for "months." And it certainly would make more sense in how Singer maintained keep her position a lawwoman that's reputable and admired by the locals as long as she did despite her blatant inactions, considering the possibilities he helped pulled some strings.

It'd be too easy to claim Officer Singer was never fired simply by theorising the Department of Magical Law Enforcement were as unfit, unintelligent and incapable as the forces from the Victorian Metropolitan Police.

But it's later found out the locals felt very differently:

People trusted her, relied on her. They felt safe whenever she's near and all have nothing but praises for her.

Imagine the potential - the level of public outrage and betrayal - among the common folk, that the person who was supposed to defend them has been aiding the Ashwinders extorting, threatening and bullying them this whole time, possibly allowing said group access to all the needed private information to terrorise them even further (e.g. their names, private residences, workplaces and occupations, and all that of their loved ones, too)

This can easily be backed up by Natty’s questline: A Basis for Blackmail

We meet a few of the victims - targeted by Theophilus Harlow, another notorious Ashwinder leader and Rookwood’s right hand man - most notably Mr Isko Rabe and his wife.

Harlow knew their names, where Mrs Rabe worked (Gringotts), what she and her husband do for a living (bank security and curse breaker) and where they lived (to plant the threatening note and destroy their garden). Both careers are as high profile as they are dangerous, so it’s not surprising Mrs Rabe was approached about extorting the bank itself. What is disquieting was that their private homes were infiltrated a little too easily, especially concerning her husband is a talented curse-breaker.

Interestingly, Mrs Rabe and officer Singer were likely colleagues (as per the cutscene of the first Hogsmeade troll attack, you can see Mrs Rabe following closely behind Singer). Someone with Singer’s position would have all the necessary connections and know-how to learn all she needs to someone of lower rank, especially when divulging them to a powerful gang leader she may had been conspiring with…

—

I got so excited because I was convinced there would be a twist of some sort, where we may get to pull a Houdini or a Scooby-Doo then unmask Singer as another sleazy dark witch that's been undercover and lying to the locals for years, secretly exploiting with Rookwood and manipulating the same people she's meant to protect.

I was so mentally prepared for the scandal, already so gleefully imagining the reactions of the villagers, the teachers or students from the sheer betrayal after speaking so highly of her and putting so much trust in that woman.

Imagine my disappointment when I find that she really was just hilariously incompetent 😂

Shit, even MC themselves pointed this out ( after local businesses were being extorted and a student was just kidnapped by a group of adults:

I can always incorporate this post in the fic, that'd be fun.

[esmedelacroix]

Coffee Shop Love Pt.6

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader

summary: He's as stern and cold as the snow falling from the sky blanketing the bustling streets of Nueva York, Miguel O'Hara stumbles upon a hidden gem of a coffee shop just around the corner from Alchemax. Only problem is the annoying-as-shit smiley-ass barista.

contents: slow burn, no use of y/n, fluffy, not proofread, literally the fluffiest of fluffs, a little drama at the end

author's note: Hey lovies, whoo! Two chapters today! Consider it my apology for being so inactive lately. But don't worry loves I'm back on track. A like, comment, or repost is always appreciated. Hope you like this chapter, the cliffhanger not so much >.<, enjoy...

word count: 1.5k

Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt.3, Pt.4, Pt. 5, Pt.6, Pt.7, Sequel: Sweet Tooth

That morning you were so lost in the ridiculous amount of people coming for coffee that you didn't even realize that Miguel hadn't shown up that morning. "Which is so weird because he always comes for coffee in the morning, sometimes again midday then he comes at night and stays a while," you explained to Estella over muffins and Earl Grey tea.

"Alright girl, first of all, why are you this worried about it? It's probably nothing," Estella reassured.

"It can't be nothing, we slept together days ago when the blizzard happened, and he cuddled multiple times!" you exclaimed, as Estella almost choked on her drink.

"You had sex?!" she blurted out shockingly.

"No, no we just like, slept in the same bed, my bed," you muttered, trying to draw the attention away from the two of you.

"Wait, I'm confused, why was he even in your house?!" she questioned.

You explained the whole situation with the amber alert and filled her in on the day that you had spent with Miguel. The more you explained, the more her jaw dropped.

"Wait, now I'm confused, what is your relationship with him?" Estella asked, taking a bite out of a muffin.

"I'm not even sure, we've had this strange chemistry ever since we met," you explained.

"I'd say give a day or two maybe he's like, at work, or living his life?" she joked sarcastically.

"I'm gonna kill you, Estella! Get out of my shop!" you joked as you pushed her out. She laughed along and waved before heading back to the shelter where she worked.

Your break was over and the lunch rush was just about to happen. Still no Miguel, you were starting to wonder if you had done something wrong. No, it makes no sense to think that way, I know I did nothing. I wonder if he misses me this much as well, you thought to yourself as you began to make people's orders.

The day went by very slowly. You sat by the counter at 8 pm, chin propped up on your hand, as fatigue drooped your head down. Just then the bells rang. Your head shot up immediately hoping there would be a tall, dark, and handsome man standing there before you. But it was just Mr. Smith. Probably here to collect the rent. "Good Evening Baby, I've come here for something, but I forget what it is... maybe a drink?" he trails off as he looks up at the menu.

"No Mr. Smith, you're here for the rent. It's too late for you to have coffee," you explained. He smiled and nodded.

"That's right dear, silly me," he said. You handed him an envelope with the rent for the month and waved goodbye after sending him off with a candy cane.

You let out an exasperated sigh as you plopped into a chair and waited to see if Miguel would show up. Why do I miss him so much? What are my feelings for him? You asked yourself as you got up to lock up.

That night you slept wishing to see Miguel walk through those doors in the morning. But to no avail, he didn't show up that morning, or for lunch, or that night. You opened your phone for any notifications from him but nothing. You gave him a call but his phone was turned off. You decide to leave him a voicemail.

"Hey Miguel, It's been a while since we've seen each other. The shop’s really boring without you here, come by for a coffee soon, I know you can't go a single day without having like 3 cups, I miss you, and I'm pretty sure I like you" you said. You had no idea where that last part came from and you fumbled to delete it somehow but what was done was done. You hoped that he wouldn't listen to it. Besides he was a businessman he had better things to do.

That night you slept wondering where he was and why he would come see you. He was cuddling you one day, then you never saw him. Does he like me, or does he not? You asked yourself. You allowed your mind to rest and went to sleep.

The next morning you got through the rush just fine and went on break while mentally preparing yourself for the lunch rush. Miguel was nowhere to be seen but you didn't panic as much as the days before. You had hoped that maybe he would show up tonight and you would scold him for disappearing without notice.

So as you lay your head on the counter bored out of your mind, the shop bells rang. You headshot up as usual and there you saw him. Tall, dark, handsome, and stuck in the mistletoe again. "I told you, you have to get a taller door frame," he joked as walked in. You chuckled at his joke holding yourself back from rushing to him and hugging him.

"Where have you been Miguel?" you asked him softly, unable to wipe the upside-down smile off your face.

"Surprisingly enough, the second I walked into work I was rushed onto a last-minute retreat at another lab. It's one of those classified things where we turn our phones off. I'm sorry I could let you know Baby," he said softly.

"It's no problem, but this other lab... was it nice? Good coffee?" you asked skeptically.

"Yeah, it was alright—" Miguel started.

"Ha! I knew it! Miguel, have you been seeing another barista?" you jokingly asked him. Just then she heard a low sound break the silence between them. He had never fully laughed around her, but once she heard it, it was music to her ears. I would become a stand-up comedian if it meant hearing this beautiful laugh all day, you thought to yourself.

"Oh Baby, I've missed you so much," he confessed with a few chuckles.

"Alright then, sit down and lemme make you a coffee that will top whatever you drank at that 'other lab'," you said motioning for him to take a seat at his usual table.

Instead of taking his laptop out and getting straight to work, he just watched you. He watched you make the most simple but best coffee he had ever tasted. Once he took a sip, it felt like home. "This is that special brew you used at your place isn't it?" he asked with an amused smile.

"Yeah, I figured since you liked it so much, I would make you a nice big cup of it," you explained as you took a seat across from him.

You and Miguel caught each other up on the events that had passed while you were apart. Miguel couldn't stop talking about how much he learned at this fancy schmancy lab he visited with Alchemax in Washington D.C. and how much he learned about quantum physics. You didn't understand half of the terms he was using but that didn't matter because at least he was having a good time. Seeing him talking about something he was passionate about set fireworks off in your chest. You filled him in on the usual Café gossip and drama that was going on.

It was a lovely night of shared laughs and stories but it had to come to an end at some point. Just when he was about to leave you decided to ask him about the voicemail you had sent. "Miguel, did you ever listen to my voicemail?" you asked.

"No, I didn't have the time, should I?" he answered.

"No, just delete it. What I said was pretty embarrassing," you admitted.

"Well now I’m dying to hear it," he teased.

"Oh please don't," you whined.

"Too late!" he called out as he stepped out to his car and visibly pressed the button.

You begged God to allow the earth to swallow you whole and just began to wipe the counter. Just then the door swung open with violent speed and the bells rang crazily. You turned around to see Miguel out of breath holding his phone in one hand, running his hand through his hair with the other. "Baby?" he huffed completely out of breath from running back to the store the second he heard the voicemail.

"Did you mean what you said in that voicemail?" he asked in disbelief.

"I mean, yeah, I guess, but—" you started. But Miguel held his hand up for you to stop. you took that sudden motion as defeat. He doesn't think the same way, you realize in complete despair.

Next Pt.7...

taglist:

@iite-cool@jewelz-teehe@br0-please@thesilenthill@d1lf-loverrr@corpsebridenightamare@laysmt@bitchystrawberrystudent@lotionlamp@local-mr-frog@scaleniusrm@migueloharastruelove@thedevax@veyveys@amber-content

[garbinge]

Snow Angel

Wendy Case & F!Reader Nero Padilla & F!Reader Jax Teller x F!Reader 30 Day Fic Challenge

Word Count: 3.5k words A/N: This is a really heavy fic. Inspired by the song Snow Angel by Renee Rapp

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. MENTIONS OF SUICIDE, DEPRESSION, ADDICTION, ABUSE, SELF HARM, DRUGS, ALCOHOL, MAIN CHARACTER DEATH, INSINUATES READER DEATH, this is an extremely heavy fic, like probably the darkest, heaviest fic I’ve ever written. This is everything not to do when coping and grieving.

SOA Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics (have been a bit inactive on tumblr so this might not be up to date, if you'd like to be added to my SOA taglist please shoot me a message!)

After Jax’s funeral you left California. You were sure that there were whispers around Charming about you, that you were running away, not facing your destiny, not stepping up. But none of that mattered to you. The entire state weighed too much on you, the memories, his memory, it was like a feeling that hit you when you entered state lines. When you left, you thought the feeling would fade, that maybe you could go back to normal, back to who you were two years ago before you met Jax, before you fell in love with him. Unfortunately for you, that wasn’t the case. You were 3,000 miles away but shortly after your first week back out east, you realized that even though Jax’s memory was littered all over California, he was here with you too. Most people kept that thought close to their hearts, it offered comfort to most who were mourning, the idea that no matter what someone is always with you in your heart, but with where you were at in the grieving process, you wanted nothing to do with the memory of Jax Teller. 

That was the first month. 

The second month was the opposite. You searched for anything that reminded you of him. The regret of leaving the one place where you’d be able to find him anywhere, where you’d be surrounded by so many opportunities to reminisce was drowning you. It pained you so much that you made a memorial for him in your backyard. It wasn’t much, a small 12x6 stone with his name, birthday, and death day engraved on it. It was placed in the dirt right in front of the only tree in your yard, it allowed for flowers to be placed along with any other mementos you wanted. You visited it everyday, you sat in your yard while the leaves turned orange, and even though the days blended together, you made sure to fill each day with a phone call to Wendy, Nero, and the kids, a backyard chat with Jax’s memorial, or making your home feel more like home with pictures from your time in Charming. 

The third month was…different from the ones prior. The leaves had left the trees completely and everything felt empty. You were barely home, out with people you barely knew, using alcohol as a suppressant. You stopped returning most of your calls, only answering Wendy’s on occasion to talk with Abel, but truthfully, every time her’s or Nero’s name popped up on your phone, your heart dropped, you felt it in your gut every time. You were never fully coherent when the calls came so you weren’t sure if your gut sinking feeling was the heaviness of being reminded of your past, what you knew would be disappointment from them of your current actions and state, or because deep down in your drunken subconscious you thought it’d be Jax every time you felt your phone go off. 

The fourth month was a combination of all the months before it. The trees were still just as bare, the air was a bit more chill. You hated Charming just as much as you missed it. On your walk to work, you’d see Harleys on the street and smile despite knowing none of them would ever be the one biker you wished. After work, you’d go to happy hours with your coworkers, now it seemed that small talk and two strong martinis could numb a lot of the emotion. On your way home from it all, you’d talk to Wendy, the kids. But never Nero, you knew he’d bring you back to a reality that you just couldn’t face currently. The other thing you avoided was the memorial. Like clockwork, you wrapped up your call with Wendy as you walked up your back steps and made sure your eyesight never fell on the stone, never fell on the single oak tree. 

The fifth month, this one felt like the month where it was unacceptable to feel anything anymore. All your new friends who never experienced loss the way you had were probably tired of being around someone that carried a cloud with them. Wendy had invited you to one of her family’s parties close to where you lived. You knew she had family out east, but when she had shared the invitation with you, it was shocking to see just how close. It’d be your first time seeing everyone, and to your surprise, you were looking forward to going, to be around people who understood your grief. What’s misery without company, right? You were the first to arrive, the only others being there were those who were living or staying in the house, Wendy being one of them. Despite her smile and embrace making you feel better for just a millisecond, it was quickly washed away when you saw how normal everyone was acting. Sure, half of Wendy’s family wasn’t neck-deep in depression over the man they never met, but Wendy was, well, she was thriving. There were no signs of drugs, she was drinking ginger ale all night, not a drop of alcohol, her laughs were echoing in your head. You tried to mimic it as you stood in the same conversation as her but you felt your breath hitch in your gut and nothing was coming out. It was a strange feeling to be happy for someone while also being insanely jealous of them as well. But despite any of that, you were still the last to leave the party. 

After hugging Wendy goodbye, you grabbed your coat, ready to leave. As you skipped down the steps of her aunt’s building, you stepped on the sidewalk, hands in your pocket as the cold shivered down your spine. Looking up, you saw how the sky looked dark but light at the same time, a sign that snow was coming, and you were right. A few flurries fell and it was followed by more heavy ones. They’d make a great addition to the snow that was already on the ground, but that silent 2AM snowfall was the real hero of the night. It was peaceful, calming, after being in a room where it was hard to breathe, the crisp, cold air filling your lungs in the silence of the winter night was everything you needed. 

As you approached your house, your hand moved to unlatch the gate to enter your backyard. It was like muscle memory, just an automated movement of coming home late in the night, head down in your thoughts before making it up the steps to your backdoor. But something about this night was different, maybe it was the silence of the night that moved to your head, it wasn’t consumed in thoughts which is why your muscle memory failed you. Your eyesight moved over to that one tall oak tree in your yard, and something deep red–almost brown below it. If it had been 20 minutes later the snow would have made it impossible to see, but it caught your eye. With a deep breath, you took a step down and made your way over to the memorial. As you got closer, you realized what caught your eye was a bouquet of dead roses, realizing that a lot of time had passed since you had stood here in front of the stone you put here to remember Jax. 

Squatting down, your hand extended out and brushed the snow off to read the words etched into the stone. Aside from his name and the dates, you forgot that you had etched in one of the things he had said to you, and likely written down in one of his many journals a year before he took his life. 

Find your own truth. It will lead you to the things you love. 

Reading it, it took you a minute to hear it in his voice, and truthfully that broke you a little bit. There was a time where you heard Jax’s voice in your head everyday, but somewhere along the way you stopped talking to him, stopping looking for him in your thoughts, in your day, and apparently that meant you had startecd to forget his voice. But when it suddenly filled your mind, you smiled and moved to sit down in the snow. Despite the smile, and the irony that you were quite literally sitting on ice, you felt the cold bring the rawness of your grief to the surface, thawing out after all these months of hiding it away. 

You went from squatting to completely laying in the snow now, sprawled out staring at the sky next to the memorial. 

“Been a minute.” You spoke up, talking to the sky. But it felt off, obviously you weren’t going to get a response but looking for him there just felt… empty. Your head turned to look at the memorial and your mind suddenly just pictured him there, laying next to you. 

“Still pretty as ever, darlin’.” His voice wasn’t the only thing filling your head, your imagination or maybe the couple drinks you had, were letting you visualize that trouble-making smile and baby blue eyes you could drown in. 

“What truth did I find?” You asked him, knowing that something had to have happened when you read the words on the stone. Something lead you to him. 

“That you can’t run from it.” He answered almost immediately. 

“You did.” Instictually, your eyes moved back to the sky, avoiding wanting to look him when you said those words. 

He didn’t answer right away, but when he did, he was changing the topic. 

“How’s the east coast treatin’ you?” You could hear the smile in his voice, like he knew that you probably hated it. 

“You know I fuckin’ hate it.” Your head snapped to look at him and the smile filled your face immediately as you saw him staring at you with a grin. 

“And yet, you’re lying here in the snow.” His eyebrows raised and his shoulders shrugged. 

You both knew why you were doing it. Why you were suffering through the pain just for a small moment of content with him. 

“I’ll make it through the winter if it kills me.” You said it more as a motivation, like you needed to hear the words to convince yourself of it. 

“Finding things that make you happy shouldn’t be hard.” His voice was serious, and it was the one you had come to know very well in the years of knowing him. That light and comedic personality was one that was rare and unfamiliar to you. It was what you tried to hold on to in these moments but it never stayed long. 

“I have things that make me happy.” Another statement where you were trying to convince yourself. 

“Drinking doesn’t count.” The smirk was back on his face. 

You were going to argue, tell him he wasn’t in the position to call the shots but instead you laughed. Because laughing made you happy. 

“Look, I’m trying.” With the sigh came the visible exhale of your breath and with it, the image of Jax in your head began to fade. 

“I know, darlin’.” His hand was extending out but then the memory of him faded in your head. 

Without giving it another second, you stood up, brushed the snow of of your back and forced herself inside. It took everything in you to go because with the overflow of emotion you were feeling, you knew what you had to do. It began with taking down most of the photos around your house, memories from Charming, pictures of you and Jax, pictures of you in the clubhouse, with the kids. You left some, a couple of photos of the past would seem acceptable, something to pass small talk over when new friends would come over. “Oh yea, that’s when I used to live in California, seems like a lifetime ago!” You knew you’d never mention that your ex-boyfriend was dead, that he drove his bike into a semi-truck on the 580 just like his late father. That really tended to put a damper on small talk, just like the abundance of reminders you had of this life in this house. 

You were rushing to clean it all up, if you sped through this maybe the healing would come just as quick. But that never worked. Speeding up the grief never did anyone any good, and maybe there was a piece of you that knew that, but there was another part of you, the part that tended to take over, that was hopeful, that was grasping at whatever you could to try and feel normal again. It was obvious you weren’t okay, if the tossing of memories into the depths of your closet in trash bags wasn’t enough of a sign, the washing down of your anti-depressants with a bottle of Jack was. But you were trying, wasn’t that enough to ask of you?

You woke up the next day on the couch, not sure if the sun or the headache was what woke you up so early but one thing was sure, you needed coffee. You trudged to the kitchen and poured what was left over in the pot into a mug and took a sip. Immediately you made a face and stuck your tongue out, moving to dump the mug and pot into the sink and put on something fresh. 

As you moved to put on a fresh pot and try and get the disgusting taste of stale, cold, coffee out of your mouth, there was a knock at your back door. Any other day you probably would have been a little more aware, look through the window to see who it was, hide and pretend no one was home, but instead you just added opening the back door to your many movements of swinging around the kitchen. 

As the door swang open, the person on the other side just stood on your back step as they watched you move around the kitchen. He wasn’t the type of person to just walk in without an invitation so he just stood there. 

“Early bird gets the worm, huh?” The sound of the man’s voice caused you to freeze. 

After what felt like eternity you turned to see Nero standing at your wide open back door, his arm perched on the frame as he waited patiently. 

He looked inside, down the hallway-like kitchen you lived in, his way of asking to be let in. 

“Uhm, hi, come in.” You moved to the side and waved him in. 

“Wasn’t able to make it to the party last night, I told Wendy I’d stay with the boys while she saw her family but I wanted to stop by and see you before we headed back home.” He didn’t make the move to hug you as he walked by, just let his hand sit on your shoulder for a few seconds before taking a seat at your kitchen table. 

“You want coffee? I just put on a fresh pot.” At the mention of the kids you wanted to scream. You just worked hard to push this part of your life away and here it was banging on your door. Okay exaggeration, knocking, knocking on your door. 

“Yea coffee’s good.” Nero nodded, looking completely comfortable in your kitchen like this was a common event. 

The pot was still brewing so you just stood there watching the coffee drip into the pot. 

“How’d you like it?”

“How are you?” 

You both spoke at the same time. Nero thought it was funny while you stood there feeling sick to your stomach. 

“However you make it is fine.” He smiled. 

“I put a shit ton of sugar in mine.” You reached to grab it from the counter above the machine. 

“That’s fine.” He lifted his hands up nonchalantly. 

“So, how are you?” 

“I’m good, got this job downtown, I go to meetings and happy hours, put data in powerpoints.” You normally would speak this so sarcastically because you hated every second of it but you wanted to be convincing to Nero and that meant smiling and brushing off his questions of concern.

“Guess that’s why I haven’t talked to you in a while, you’re busy living the American Dream.” He teased. 

“Yea sorry, life just been so crazy, I try to call the boys once a week.” The pot was finally done and you started to pour the liquid into two mugs. 

Truthfully, you stopped talking to him because it’s easier to lie when you don’t have to say anything. You continued to bullshit your way through this conversation with him.

It was your average boring catch up conversation, until he said the words that caused you to snap. 

“Jax wouldn’t want you living this way.” 

The words echoed in your head, they bounced against your brain just like his voice from last night. “Finding things that make you happy shouldn’t be hard.”

“Well maybe he shouldn’t have killed himself if he wanted me to consider his opinion.” You snapped at Nero. 

Nero didn’t speak so you continued. 

“I’m trying, so hard, I left Charming, I’m eons away from where I was when I first got here. You have no idea, I was a wreck, I’m functioning now.” You started naming off all the things you’ve worked through. “And you know, you have no room to come here, to my home and tell me Jax wouldn’t want me living this way. You have no idea what it’s like to meet someone who broke your heart. I blame him because it’s easier that way, but I still fucking look for him in everything, I look for him in myself.” Your finger slammed into your chest as you pointed to yourself. “Despite my desire and wish for things to be the way they were, I can’t even think about it without hating it. What I used to love, I hate now. Motorcycles. Charming. Care-free living. Do you know what it’s like to look in the mirror and not even recognize yourself?” The tears were flowing from your face as you screamed. It wasn’t really meant for Nero but he was on the receiving end of it all. 

Your head buzzed from the yelling that abruptly stopped as you just stared at Nero. Your voice was a whisper now. “Some days I wish I went a different way, a life where I never met him, never loved him, never lost him, or maybe even had an opportunity to change it, right, but I know if I got the chance I’d do it all the same. I know I’d never been able to stop him, no matter what I did.” 

Nero stood up and reached out to you and much to your surprise, you let him. The embrace was something in those few seconds that he was making his way over to you that you looked forward to, one that you felt was going to provide just a bit of comfort, but when he wrapped his arms around you the feeling fell short. Because it wasn’t him. The one thing that would help you was impossible to obtain. 

“I’m okay.” The coldness washed over you, the feeling of just letting so much off your chest and sobbing so much just to be left numb was like a veil falling over you. 

“I’m okay, um, we should get dinner later tonight. I promise I won’t yell.” 

Nero let out a laugh. “It’s good to get out, figured you weren’t talking about it much when you stopped answering my calls.” 

“Pick me up later?” You asked and he agreed, moving to the backdoor. 

“You sure you’re good?” His hand was on the knob as he stood back on the step before shutting the door. 

“Yea, I promise, I’m good.” A smile forced its way on your face. 

Nero nodded and left which led you to bring yourself to the bathroom to clean yourself up. Staring in the mirror at your red, swollen eyes. 

“I’ll make it through the winter if it kills me.” The words were said at such a whisper as you stared at yourself, convincing yourself to push through the pain. Your mind wondering why despite all your hurried effort time passing went so slow.

You barely recognized yourself as you stared in the mirror. It was one thing to feel it, so disconnected from who you thought you were, but right now you felt like you could see it. It made you wonder if you really took the time to look at yourself over the last 5 months, and despite every hardworking effort, not only could you not see yourself, but you couldn’t see Jax anymore either. 

So you let your eyes go dark and imagined the one thing that maybe would bring you closer to him. 

[wuqvi]

“ -- My whole body is nothing but an alcoholic relic. It’s like twelve holidays have passed the night in my mouth.”

[sapphireclaw]

If you don’t mind me asking, how does the reunion between Ingo and Emmet go?

Time to write a reunion fic woop woop here we go

(Tw for depressing thoughts and a panic attack. This was meant to be more light hearted but oops I made it emotional hurt/comfort. I’ll have to write an alternate version that’s sillier)

AO3 link

That Time Emmet’s Missing Brother Came Back Home After a Month but Turns Out He was Dead the Whole Time (and also he’s like 329 years old now)

Starting today, Ingo had been missing for over a month.

30 days.

They say that the chances of finding a missing person dwindle into slim to none after 48 hours.

It had been 725 hours and 37 minutes since Ingo disappeared from the subway tunnels without a trace.

The search was still going (Emmet was no longer allowed to join the search parties), but he knew that with time people would give up on finding a living man, and reduce the parties to a few individuals and cadaver Stoutlands.

Emmet refused to think about that, though. It had only been a month. A month without Ingo. A month of hell. But Ingo was still out there. He had to be.

Ever since he was forbidden from joining in on the search, Emmet took to lazing around his their apartment. The Battle Subway was closed, and he’d been forced to take leave from work. He felt lethargic and empty with nothing to do. Had been since Ingo never emerged from the tunnels to walk home with Emmet.

That was Emmet’s current state. Draped across the couch in a daze while his Pokémon attempted to get him to eat the food Elesa had brought him yesterday. Elesa’s support was much appreciated, but not always welcomed. Emmet didn’t need a caretaker. Elesa’s efforts would be better off aimed at finding Ingo than taking care of a depressed couch potato.

“Drilll...”

Speaking of potato...

Emmet sighed, lifting his face from the cushions to look over at his and Ingo’s shared Pokémon. Excadrill was standing near Emmet’s head, holding out a cold stuffed potato skin, pinched delicately between his steel claws. How he got into the Pokémon-proofed fridge to get at the leftovers, Emmet had no idea. Still, he couldn’t help but feel touched by the effort.

“Thank you, Wilbur.” Emmet murmured, offering the ground and steel type a weak smile as he took the cold food from him. Wilbur grunted happily, returning Emmet’s smile with one of his own. He seemed pleased with himself as Emmet took a bite of the potato, and soon left his trainer alone to eat.

The food tasted like ash in his mouth.

How pathetic was he? A grown man that couldn’t even eat properly without being babied by his own Pokémon. Not to mention Elesa having to bully him into completing other tasks a human needed in order to function.

Before Emmet could spiral further down such self-depreciating thoughts, there was a faint knocking at his apartment door. He looked up from his food, startled, and stared at the door. Who could possibly be visiting so late at night? Elesa had checked on him just yesterday. The thought of her visiting again so soon grated on his nerves. He didn’t need a babysitter.

The knocking came again, sounding more impatient this time due to Emmet’s inaction.

“I am Emmet, and I don’t feel up to socializing, Elesa. Please depart at once!”

There was a beat of silence, and Emmet could practically feel the hurt he caused. immediately, guilt slammed into him like a speeding bullet train.

Elesa was just trying to help, like any good friend would in his time of hardship. Pushing her away would do nothing but harm their relationship.

Even with the guilt eating at him, Emmet did not take back his words. It was true that he wasn’t in the mood to socialize. As much as he loved his dear friend, Emmet could only take so much in his current state before he risked suffering a shutdown. The only person he wanted to see right now was-

“...Emmet? Can you let me in, please? I don’t have my keys...”

Ingo.

That was Ingo. The voice was quiet, uncharacteristic of his brother, but undoubtedly his.

Emmet moved faster than he ever had before in his life, scrambling off the couch and nearly braining himself on the coffee table as a result. The subway boss practically ran on all fours to the door, never quite regaining his footing but desperate to reach his brother.

There was a split second after he grasped the doorknob and hauled himself up where Emmet suddenly froze. Doubt began to creep up his spine as he stared blankly at the wood inches in front of his face.

What if this was just another dream?

What if this was just another layer to his suffering. Emmet was no stranger to the occasional auditory hallucination, but never before had he experienced one quite as realistic as this. If he opened the door and there was no one standing on the other side, Emmet was sure that he’d break.

Another round of knocking jolted Emmet from his spiral yet again, making his ears ring with how close to the door he was standing.

If this was a hallucination, then it was a verrry convincing one.

Before he could doubt himself further, Emmet twisted the doorknob and thrust open the door. He did not blink as he did so, trusting his eyesight above his hearing at this point.

There in the hallway stood Ingo. Emmet couldn’t help but drink in the sight of his brother.

He looked different. His coat was ragged and torn, and he wore an odd pink garment under it. His face looked like it had aged years in the single month he was gone. Littered with scars and a few stress wrinkles. How verry strange.

Emmet stared at Ingo for what felt like ages while Ingo stared back.

Then, Ingo blinked, and Emmet caught the flash of purple light in his pupils, like the reflective tapetum lucidum of a nocturnal Pokémon.

Ah.

This was not Ingo, then.

An impostor.

A shapeshifting Pokémon playing a cruel trick on a grieving man.

Emmet felt faint, but mustered the strength to slam the door as hard as he could in the trickster’s face before it could cause more damage to his already fragile heart.

Or, at least he tried to.

A worn boot stopped the door from closing all the way, and the Pokémon was quick to wedge half of its body into the crack provided.

“Wait! Wait- wait- wait- Emmet it’s me, it’s Ingo!”

Verrry impressive. It even sounded like Ingo.

Emmet didn’t dignify them with an answer, and instead pressed the entirety of his (albeit slight) weight against the door, hoping the intruder would give up in trying to worm its way into the apartment. The thrashing impostor did eventually retreat back into the hallway, and Emmet was able to close and lock the door triumphantly.

Releasing a shaky breath, the man slowly slid down the wall to sit on the floor. Adrenaline still pumped through Emmet’s veins, and his legs felt like jelly. At least he could now breathe.

It was short-lived, however.

Emmet let out a shriek when a transparent arm suddenly passed through the door right above his head, quickly followed by the rest of the Ingo-lookalike. He could only watch in horror as It pulled itself through the solid wood as if it weren’t there, as if invading Emmet’s sanctuary was the easiest thing in the world.

Scrambling backward, Emmet realized that he didn’t even have time to grab his Xtrans to maybe call for help before the creature was upon him.

The cruel visage of his brother loomed over him, eyes glowing purple and white in the dim light.

“Emmet- Emmet, please calm down. Let me explain.”

Calm down? How could he possibly calm down when he was most definitely about to lose his life. Poor Elesa would surely be the first to find his body in the morning-

“Oh, for the love of Almighty Sinnoh, you’re not dying, Emmet.”

It could even perfectly mimic Ingo’s distinct exasperated tone of voice. How awful.

“I’m not mimicking anything. I am not a zoroark, Emmet. Or a ditto. This is real. Look-“

Emmet flinched when he felt a cold hand grasp his wrist. He chanced a look up at the impostor, and felt his heart ache at the worried look upon their face. It looked just like Ingo did when he was trying to help Emmet down from a panic attack. Concern and love showing clearly in his eyes even if his expression didn’t change...

“That’s it, Emmet.” Ingo the impostor murmured gently, cold fingers rubbing soothing circles against his knuckles. “Just breathe deep for me. You’ll be back on track soon.”

Oh. He actually was having a panic attack, wasn’t he? And this... Pokémon was doing an admittedly amazing job at helping him recover from it.

Emmet closed his eyes. For just a moment he let himself believe that it really was his dear brother comforting him. He had no idea what was in store for him at the hands of this impostor. It wouldn’t hurt to indulge for a second, right?

“You are verrry good at this.” Emmet croaked.

The impostor (Ingpostor, Emmet thought hysterically) snorted a sad little laugh.

“Of course I am. I’ve had plenty of practice. You were a very anxious kid, Emmet. Don’t you remember?”

The familiar voice was a pleasant rumble close to Emmet’s ear. He didn’t even notice Ingo? the impostor get closer. There was now an arm around his shoulders as well as the hand still rubbing circles into Emmet’s skin. It felt so nice. It had been much too long since he’d felt his brother’s soothing presence.

This had to stop before Emmet’s heart broke beyond repair.

“I am Emmet. You are not Ingo.”

He felt the arm around his shoulder tighten, but not uncomfortably so.

“I am. I swear I am, Emmet. I’ll prove it to you, if you’ll let me.”

Hm. That is not what Emmet expected them to say. They were putting their heart and soul into this charade. Why?

“How?” Emmet said instead.

“Like this,” that painfully familiar voice replied.

Then, the impostor began to hum.

It was a tune Emmet knew verrry well.

A Lullaby for Trains.

Their mother used to sing it to them, before she passed away. The song was dear to the two brothers, and they would often sing or hum the tune whenever they were in dire need of comfort. So many nights spent huddled together under the blankets in each other’s arms. Unsure where one twin began and the other ended. All they knew was the soothing melody and the presence of each other.

It was something they shared just between them. Not even Elesa had ever witnessed the twins at their most vulnerable.

Ingo (because it really was Ingo, wasn’t it?) wasn’t even halfway through the song before Emmet burst into tears.

He was on the other in an instant. Ingo felt cold to the touch, but Emmet didn’t care. He wrapped his arms around his brother’s neck and snuggled against his chest as if he were a small child again. Ingo in turn snaked his arms around his twin and gave him a proper hug. Despite the sudden track change, Ingo kept humming the lullaby without stuttering once.

By the time the last few notes floated through the air, Emmet’s breathing was under control, and the implications of the whole situation dawned on him.

“I am Emmet... you... you are Ingo.”

“Mhmm.” Ingo hummed. A pleasant rumble against Emmet’s ear.

The younger twin slowly extracted himself from the embrace, though only enough so that he could look up at his brother’s face.

This time, Ingo didn’t look nearly as weathered. The scars were gone, and so were the wrinkles. His hat and coat were in pristine condition. The pink garment was nowhere to be seen, replaced by the usual crisp white button-up and blue tie. The only thing that remained of the haunted-looking version of his brother he had seen at the door was the odd purple-magenta shine he could still see in Ingo’s eyes. Had he imagined his haggard appearance before?

“What… what happened to you, Ingo?” Emmet hesitantly asked. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer.

Sure enough, Ingo’s frown deepened, and he averted his eyes.

“Ah… the story of my derailment is a long one, full of twists and rough tracks. Are you sure you want to hear it now? You look exhausted, Emmet.” Ingo took in Emmet’s admittedly less than pristine condition with concern.

Emmet did not like that. He felt ashamed of himself for letting his health fall to the wayside while Ingo was missing. He was quick to distract his brother from scrutinizing him further.

“Please, Ingo. I am Emmet and I need to know what happened to you. Full speed ahead, do not hold anything back. I can handle it.”

After all, he’d only been missing for a month. Aside from what turned his brother into… whatever he is now, not many other life altering things could have happened in that time, surely?

He was only gone for a month, after all.

.

.

.

… or not.

Ingo spun his tale like a Galvantula painstakingly weaving its web.

A dark god trapped under the thumb of a madman. His dear brother thrown headlong back in time and space by accident. Losing his memories yet always knowing that someone was missing. Becoming a warden. Meeting another displaced passenger, but without knowing anything other than his new station, did not return with them. Becoming sick and unable to recover. Ingo… dying…

Ingo had to stop his tale and help ground his younger brother before he could spiral into another panic attack.

Ingo had died.

Ingo had died alone hundreds of years and thousands of miles away from his true home.

“That can’t be right.” Emmet croaked, once again clinging desperately to Ingo. “You’re right here, not dead! I’m touching you right now!” He patted his brother’s chest for emphasis. “You couldn’t have died. You’re obviously not some ghost Pokémon!”

There was a long bout of silence. All that could be heard was Emmet’s breathing. Not Ingo’s.

Emmet’s heart dropped to his stomach. He pulled away so he could once again look at his brother, but Ingo was avoiding eye contact.

“Ingo?”

The older twin drew in a shaky breath.

“Giratina felt terribly for having caused my derailment, and prevented my spirit from fading into obscurity. They offered me a gift. An opportunity to see you again.” Ingo turned to meet Emmet’s eyes. His own shining with an unearthly glow.

Ingo took his brother’s hand in his own and slowly brought it up to his chest, where he pressed it against his sternum.

Just as Emmet feared, he felt nothing beating under flesh and bone. Only an odd sort of humming. It was almost electrical. It was most certainly not a heartbeat.

Ingo was quick to explain further.

“I am what Giratina calls a Distortion Ghost. An inhuman being made of antimatter. This was the only way I could see you again, Emmet.” Ingo’s grip on his hand tightened, and Emmet could feel him shaking, “My memories had just returned to their proper station. I had to get back to you. I couldn’t bear the thought of you never knowing what became of me. I waited centuries to see you again. I know I’m not human, I know my existence is unfathomable and terrible, but I’m still me, Emmet. I promise I’m still your brother. Please believe me.”

Emmet realized with a start that Ingo was crying when a drop of glowing magenta liquid landed on his hand where it was still pressed against his brother’s chest. He looked up at Ingo’s face, heart breaking at the terrified look in his eyes. Eyes that were leaking a luminescent substance in place of tears. Ingo was trembling, and he unconsciously pressed Emmet’s hand harder against his sternum.

Oh.

Oh no.

Ingo thought Emmet was afraid of him. He was scared that Emmet might not accept him as he was now.

That wouldn’t do.

Emmet splayed his fingers against Ingo’s chest, feeling that strange thrumming energy just beneath the surface. With a deliberating hum, he gave his brother’s chest a couple of firm pats before drawing his hand away. Ingo released the grip he had on Emmet’s wrist easily enough, staring over Emmet’s shoulder instead of directly into his eyes. His whole expression screamed trepidation.

“I am Emmet. You are Ingo.”

He said it with such finality that Ingo met his gaze again, eyes wide.

“We are a two-car train, you and I. Nothing in this world or the next will change that. I may not understand what all this-“ Emmet gave Ingo’s chest a firm poke, “entails, but know that I will be with you through it all. Because I am Emmet, and you are Ingo, and I would love you with all my heart even if you were a walking, talking patrat.”

With that blunt declaration, it was Ingo’s turn to burst into tears.

Emmet simply held his brother as he shook and sobbed against him in a reverse of their positions just a few minutes earlier.

How lonely, how daunting it must’ve been, Emmet thought sadly, to have to wander the earth for centuries in a new and terrifying state, waiting for the day he could reconnect with his other half.

Well. Hopefully now that they were coupled once again, they could help each other come to terms with their new situation. Godly interference or no, Emmet was just happy to have Ingo back.

It didn’t matter that he had no heartbeat. It didn’t matter that his eyes glowed. It didn’t matter that he cried strange purple tears. New state of being aside, this was still undoubtedly Ingo. Here in his arms again.

And that’s all Emmet could have asked for.

[chloegong]

that semi-AU romajuliette + benmars fic

i need a permanent place to store this after dumping a random google doc on twitter so here it is, the author writing fic for her own book because people gave me headcanons and they were too good not to make use of

__

the one where juliette and marshall go out for a night out on the town and roma and ben have to go along to supervise because one time they accidentally committed arson —headcanon from twitter user @leonidasvaldz

a semi AU where Benedikt and Marshall were hanging out with Roma and Juliette in those happy months R&J had together in 1922 before everything went wrong (aka you can take this as canon because it will fit the timeline but the characters won’t have memory of this in the actual published books)

Disclaimer: i wrote this in one go inside a starbucks please expect ao3 user chloegong and not Author Chloe Gong who does multiple rounds of edits on her books

Second Disclaimer: nobody go putting this on goodreads before someone on my publishing team kicks my ass (rightfully so, i’m on deadline rn and i’m writing fanfic instead of my real contracted manuscript)

Mandatory reminder that Our Violent Ends is available for preorder with all links here :)

__

It wasn’t supposed to happen again. And yet, somehow, Benedikt was watching fire curl around the side of the building, the roof beams giving a loud groan before shuddering and caving in on itself.

He turned a look onto Roma. “Your girlfriend is a maniac.”

~

Five hours earlier...

Juliette climbed in through the window of Roma’s bedroom, careful to hug the burlap bag close to her chest as she landed on his carpet. The howling wind outside drowned out some of the clinking, but the glass bottles were still making a racket no matter how carefully she hugged the bag. She had gone full throttle for tonight; when no one was watching and her relatives were downstairs crowing over a game of cards, she had snuck around and robbed the liquor cabinets at the Scarlet mansion quite generously. Now she dropped the bag onto Roma’s floor with a huff, brushing a curl of hair out of her eyes.

“Where’s Marshall?”

Roma looked up from where he was reading, putting his book down and rising from the bed smoothly.

“Well, hello.” He strode toward her, stopping before her with his arms crossed. “Lovely to see you too. You do know it is my bedroom you just snuck into, right?”

Juliette pretended to jump in surprise, looking around wildly. “Do you jest? Oh, bother. Let me climb back out and go find my real lover. Marshall! Where are—”

With a huff that seemed to double as a laugh, Roma grabbed her wrist before she could turn around and leave through the window again.

“You’re hilarious,” he said dryly.

“I know.” Juliette reached up with her free hand, clasping her cold fingers right onto his neck. Though her palm was freezing from the bitter temperatures outside, Roma hardly flinched, he only shrugged his shoulder up to keep her hand there. He couldn’t fight back the grin. For several seconds, the two of them only stood there, looking like a pair of idiots smiling at each other.

Then his door opened.

“Are we interrupting something?”

Marshall bounded into the room, throwing the door wide open. With a horrified expression, Benedikt hurried in after him and closed the door quickly, listening for movement on the other side.

“Yes, leave the door wide open,” Benedikt said. “While any White Flower strolling the corridor can peer in and see the Scarlet heir standing there in a silly coat.”

Juliette stepped away from Roma, peering down at herself as if she had forgotten what she put on. “I didn’t think it was that silly. It’s my disguise.”

“You do look a little like a housewife,” Marshall said, considering the coat.

“A fifteen-year-old housewife?”

“I suppose that is exactly why you look a little silly.”

Juliette pulled a face, but refrained from arguing further. She was here tonight because Marshall wanted to see the new Scarlet club that opened along Thibet Road, and she had promised she could sneak him in. Unfortunately, Marshall was bad at keeping secrets, and the worst at keeping secrets from Benedikt. The moment that Benedikt heard Marshall was planning on entering Scarlet territory, he had decided that he would come in accompaniment.

Juliette supposed it was only fair. Benedikt didn’t entirely trust her, but he was nice enough. He tolerated her presence and always kept an eye over his shoulder to make sure she wasn’t spotted on their territory if she poked her head in to see Roma. While Juliette didn’t know much about Marshall either, he was far warmer than his best friend, and for the first time last week, they had even enjoyed an outing with just the two of them. Juliette Cai and Marshall Seo—out and about in the border territories on a quaint evening.

That outing had ended with accidental arson though, so it was rather possible that exacerbated Benedikt’s desire to play chaperone. And of course, if Benedikt was coming along, Roma wanted to tag along too.

The arson was hardly their fault, Juliette and Marshall had maintained when the Montagovs asked questions. What kind of person left a stack of hay out beside a bar? And what kind of hay was that easily flammable just from accidentally whacking one of the lanterns on the awning onto the stack?

“All right.” Juliette hauled the bag up again. “Are we ready to sneak onto Scarlet territory?”

“Absolutely not,” Benedikt muttered, strolling past her for Roma’s window. “But is that going to stop either of you?”

Before anyone could answer him, Benedikt had already hopped the small gap between windows, climbing into their neighboring building for their route out unspotted.

“Great!” Juliette said. She passed the bag to Roma so he could do the carrying. What was the point of converting a rival gang enemy into a lover if not to lug around her heavy things? “Glad we’re all so enthusiastic.”

Roma sighed, clambering onto his sill and making the climb too. “The things I do for you, dorogaya.”

Marshall hurried after him. “I would argue you’re actually doing this for me, dearest Roma!”

With a snort, Juliette climbed out last, and pulled the window after her.

~

The Scarlet club had been a bust. Of course, Benedikt had figured that would be the case from the get-go, especially if they were sneaking in at such a late hour to avoid being seen by anyone important in the Scarlet Gang. At least Juliette had provided good alcohol, and now he squinted at the label of the wine bottle under the street lamps while they walked, taking the smaller main roads along the periphery of the city.

Up ahead, Roma and Juliette were whispering to each other, though they didn’t sound like they were talking in full sentences. Those two always communicated in looks and gestures, swapping languages whenever they felt like it and ending up with some incoherent tangle of words that no one else could comprehend.

“Is there anything left in that?”

Benedikt glanced to his side, shaking the bottle to show Marshall. “One last swig. All yours.”

Marshall took the bottle. He put it to his lips and swung up, his head tipped to the sky and the line of his throat bared to the night. Benedikt shivered suddenly, a line of goosebumps rising at the back of his neck. The season had turned cold and the wind that blew onto his face was biting. He wrote off his shudder to the chill, to the temperature dropping with the longer they spent outside at such an hour.

Suddenly, Marshall was squinting into the distance. “Hey.” His call summoned Roma and Juliette’s attention from ahead, who both turned around to see what the matter was.

Marshall pointed to the dark shape off the end of the road. “Isn’t that the abandoned factory we lost to the Scarlets?”

“Is it?” Juliette asked, a sudden glee in her face.

“Why would you say that?” Roma bemoaned. He didn’t bother trying to stop her as Juliette hurried ahead, eager to explore the factory. “Look what you’ve done.”

But Marshall was wearing a similar expression, his eyes scanning the factory as they approached closer and closer. Wordlessly, he handed the bottle back to Benedikt, and though Benedikt’s head was spinning from the drink, he still recognized the exact face that Marshall made before he was going to get himself into trouble.

“Mars—”

“I’ll keep an eye on her,” he insisted, tipping his chin forward. Juliette had disappeared into the factory. “You two be look-out. We wouldn’t want someone finding us here, right?”

Benedikt scarcely had a second to argue back. Marshall was already hurrying off.

~

Inside the factory, Juliette trailed her hands along the dark walls, her eyes wide. The machines looked strange in the moonlight, but stranger while sitting so idle. She was used to seeing rows and rows of workers in the daytime, trailing after her father as he ran inspections on the work of their trade partners. It might have been the wine in her system, but everything seemed to sway: sitting so inactive in movement that her eyes were imagining movement.

“Pst.”

Juliette almost jumped out of her skin.

“Christ,” she muttered, whirling around with a hand on her heart. Marshall slunk out from the shadows, both his hands in his pockets. “You gave me a fright.”

“Me? Frightening?” Marshall picked up a strange object on the table, inspected it for several seconds, then set it back down. “I am the least frightening person on the planet.”

“Yes, well, when it’s so dark, even a cuddly teddy bear would be terrifying.” Juliette felt around her dress. She thought she had tucked her lighter in here somewhere. There were little pockets sewn around the sleeves and armholes that she kept all her weapons, though if anyone asked, she would say she had the ability to materialize them out of thin air.

“Do you scream often at teddy bears?”

“Only when they sneak up on me.”

“I don’t see you screaming at Roma.”

“He gets a special pass. He’s only a teddy bear on the inside.”

Marshall snorted. He leaned down, trying to read the paper taped down to the table. At last, Juliette found her lighter—it was actually in her sock—and she brought it close, thumbing down the sparkwheel for a flame.

“Do not touch—for demolishing,” Marshall read under the new light. “Are the Scarlets going to build something new here?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Juliette replied. “My father doesn’t include me in his business meetings yet.”

“Hmm.” The shadows of the factory danced. Juliette thought she saw someone darting in her periphery, and she whirled around, but it was only Marshall’s shadow. Unfortunately, she had scared Marshall with her movement, and he bumped into her, asking, “What? What is it?”

The lighter flew out of her hands, landing on the paper.

“Nothing, nothing!” Juliette assured. “I was seeing things.”

But Marshall wasn’t convinced. He swiveled around. Peered hard into a corner. “Was it ghosts? I know this city has ghosts. All that death creates so many ghosts.”

Juliette tried to look where he was looking. She couldn’t see anything except the dark.

“There is no such thing as ghosts.”

“Just last week, I felt something walk by me and then there was no one when I looked. I swear to you, if it wasn’t ghosts then I—” Marshall stopped suddenly, turning around to look at the table. “Uh… is that supposed to happen?”

Juliette whirled around too. The whole table was on fire. “Oh, God.”

With a sudden pop, the fire sprung up and licked up to the walls. There had to be something sprayed inside the factory already to prepare for demolition, or else the flames would not be traveling with such intensive speed.

“Marshall,” Juliette said simply.

“Yes?”

She looked at him. “When the Montagovs ask, we blame the factory and say we have no idea what happened. Run!”

~

Benedikt and Roma kept watch in relative silence. Benedikt’s head was spinning, and his cousin looked like his head was doing the same if his swaying was any indication. Roma was humming softly under his breath, toeing the grass that grew around the abandoned factory.

Then, there was a sudden sound from inside, and the first tendrils of flames blew out from the topmost windows.

“Roma,” Benedikt said plainly. “I’m willing to bet my life savings that Juliette Cai just committed arson.”

Roma tilted his head up, his jaw dropping agape. At first, he could only stare at the growing fire, eating up the roof beams. Then, he said: “To be fair, it could have been Marshall.”

Benedikt threw his arms into the air. “Who looks more like the arson type, Juliette or Marshall?”

“Is that a trick question?”

“The answer was Juliette!”

Benedikt pinched the bridge of his nose. He was rapidly growing concerned, but before he could suggest they go in to search for the two, Juliette and Marshall ran out from the factory—laughing. The factory was burning down, and they were laughing, grasping at each other and spinning in circles right in front of the factory. They looked a sight: seconds away from collapsing atop of each other in utter delirium.

Benedikt turned to Roma. “Your girlfriend is a maniac.”

Roma was struggling to hold back his laugh watching her with Marshall. “I think she’s magnificent.”

Marshall stumbled, and Juliette squealed, reaching out to grab his arm before he could trip and land flat on his face. Benedikt almost—almost—let a smile slip. Before Roma could sight it and tease him for enjoying himself after all, he cleared his throat.

“What happened?” he bellowed.

“Faulty factory!” Marshall called back.

Benedikt shook his head, turning on his heel. They needed to get out of here before someone reported the fire.

“Come on!” he called back to the three. “Let’s go before the Municipal Police arrive.”

Upon Benedikt’s summons, Marshall left Juliette’s side and hurried to catch up. He slowed to a stroll once he was beside Benedikt, but Benedikt could feel Marshall watching him.

“What?” Benedikt asked. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure his cousin was following too. Thankfully he was, though it was mostly Juliette hauling him along, their hands clasped together and swinging while Roma kept looking at the fire.

“I think you enjoyed yourself,” Marshall replied smugly. “After all that complaining about sneaking into Scarlet territory.”

Benedikt reached out and rapped his knuckles on Marshall’s skull. With a shriek, Marshall darted ahead.

“You want me to enjoy myself?” Benedikt shouted after him, breaking into a run too. “Come back then! Let me throttle you!”

FIN.

[bucky-in-paradise]

Of Extreme Importance

Hello fellow Bucky Barnes lovers! I know writing-wise, I have been super inactive, but! I am done with college and have begun my career leaving my evenings open for some writing time! I am really excited to write more and hope you enjoy this piece. Please, anyone at all interested in a part two, let me know! No use of Y/N. 

Summary: After a fun night out with their friend, reader quickly finds themselves being followed home by some creep outside the bar. Luckily, James Barnes also happens to be out and about at night and comes to her rescue.

Pairing: Reader x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: stalking, bad words, mild panic attack

Side note: This features long hair, Avenger Bucky :) 

Realistically, you knew walking home late at night by yourself was a stupid idea. You’ve been told by friends and family members for years, “once the sun goes down, who knows what kind of yahoo’s are walking around”. But you also knew how outrageous cab prices were these days in New York and figured it was more sensible to just walk the few blocks from the bar you had met your close friend at than shell out the big bucks on a cab ride. 

All that reasonable bullshit, though, went straight out the window the second you noticed the tall, stocky man behind you. The alarm bells first went off in the back of your head when you noticed him pry his frame away from the brick wall of the bar you had exited not five minutes ago, but you didn’t truly begin to panic until you heard him grow closer as you cut a corner on the fourth block away from your companion. 

Turning your head, you tried to remain calm and casual as you looked back at him, but this only furthered to promote a full blown panic within your body as you saw with your own two eyes just how close he had gotten. Taking a sharp left turn away from the subway stop you needed to get back to your walk-up, you put an extra pep in your step and bustle down the empty sidewalk. Your breath puffs out ahead of you in the chilly night air and you try not to look too alarmed as you scurry further away from him. 

Quickly, you chance a glance back to see if he is still in pursuit and yes, he has also turned that same sharp left and picked up his own pace to catch up to you. “Fuck,” you let out as you scan your surroundings for any other life form besides the prick gaining on you. The streets remain almost empty, given that it is well after one in the morning, but who can blame you for staying out late? You have the day off work tomorrow thanks to your boss leaving the country due to a family emergency and giving everyone on tomorrow’s shift the day off. 

“If I’m not there, why the hell should you all be?” she questioned in her thick Irish accent. Now, though, you deeply regret that sentiment seeing as you wouldn’t be out at a bar this late if you did need to work tomorrow, let alone get followed by some creep through the dark streets of the city that is supposed to never sleep. Where was this rumored city when you needed it most?

 As these thoughts race like a bullet through your head, you notice a man a few hundred feet across the street ahead of you. Praises sang through your mind as you lift up your hand in a wave at his back, racing across the street to catch up to this stranger. The wave was technically pointless considering this man had his back to your approach, but your startled brain didn’t even comprehend that. All you could process was the fact that he was there and just might be able to help you out. 

“Alex! Wait up,” your voice carried out to the man not too far ahead of you now. His head fell back in surprise, brown hair peeking out from under his dark blue hoodie that remains zipped up his bulky frame. A frown rests on his lips as he takes you in, lightly jogging towards him as though you are old friends reuniting after months apart. Who Alex is, he has no idea, but as soon as he sees the frightened look that is plastered on your reddened face, he notices the man, similar in stature to himself, walking on the sidewalk across the street from the both of you. Sparing a glance yourself to the man stalking you, you whip your face back to ‘Alex’ and catch up with his paused body on the sidewalk. “It’s so good to see you!” you yell into the night air. Then more quietly, just loud enough for this blue eyed stranger to hear you, you whisper, “please just-” you release a quick, loud breath, “please pretend you know me. This guy- he just… I need help please. He won’t stop following me and I don’t know what else to do.” You recognize the familiarity you feel looking at this stranger, but can’t completely come up with why you recognize him and from where.

“Slow down, it’s okay. I gotcha,” Relief fills your body, finally allowing your shoulders to sag and your heartbeat to slow down. “‘Names James, but you can call me Bucky. You uh, you wanna catch a cup of coffee in that diner up there? Say’s it’s 24 hours?” You glance ahead to the lit up diner he nodded at, only a few block ahead of you, this Bucky fella, and the stranger who now rests on the concrete wall of the apartment complex you ran alongside just moments ago. A lit cigarette is brought towards his mouth as he boldly watches your interaction with Bucky, prompting you to link your hand around his right elbow and hurry him ahead. Neither you, nor Bucky, spare a glance towards the stranger and proceed to make your way across the empty street and towards the entrance of a retro diner with a brightly lit pink sign stating, ‘Ruby’s Restaurant’. Bucky… that’s it, he’s an Avenger, well technically just on a ‘call as necessary’ basis from what you’ve seen about him on TV, but still an Avenger nonetheless. 

The walk took all of five minutes, but it allowed you to start a conversation with your savior. “Thank you for this,” you speak into the night as you glance up at Bucky’s face, seeing a calm rage overtake it. 

“No need to thank me, doll,” he shoots you a brief smile as he says it, but quickly brings back his previous gaze as you continue down the street. “You make it a habit walking around by yourself this late at night?” You hear the tease in his voice, despite the anger that still remains in his expression.

“Not if I can help it, although I certainly regret it now. I just wanted a fun drink or two with a friend, but this prick has reminded me why men in New York are such sleezeballs,” you huff out angrily then realize again who currently walking with, “except you of course!”

He barks out a quick laugh, taken aback by your brazen statement. “Don’t worry, doll. I’d be happy to prove to you that not all New York men are fucking creeps.” You smile up at him and continue to make idle small talk as you approach the diner. 

Bucky, continuing to be the ever present gentleman, opens the glass door of the diner for you and ushers you inside with a gentle hand on the middle of your back. You throw a smile over your shoulder up at his tall frame before pausing in the entryway. “Come on over here doll,” Bucky walks ahead of you and over to a blue, leather lined booth. You sit across from him and fold your arms over the sticky table top, finally being able to fully catch your breath. You let your head fall onto your limp arms, sucking in a shuddering breath. Bucky watches you closely as you seem to decompress from the last fifteen minutes of pure panic and adrenaline. “Y’alright there?”

You lift your head off your folded arms and stare straight into those beautiful blues, gently nodding your head up and down. You move to speak, thank him for everything he’s done thus far, but before you can utter a word, an older woman approaches the booth and proceeds to ask you for your order. Bucky glances your way before asking for a black coffee and a small plate of scrambled eggs. The waitress looks at you and for the first time since entering the diner you mutter out a quiet request of hot cocoa. Not speaking another word, she’s off, putting your order in behind the counter and moving towards an open crossword puzzle book resting on a stack of menus. 

You look back to your evening acquaintance and smile softly at him. You’re finally able to get a good look at your rescuer and damn if he doesn’t just take your breath away. He’s removed his jacket hood and soft waves tumble down his broad shoulders. His hair looks soft, along with his tired eyes that have deep bags resting underneath them. Obviously if he’s wandering the streets of New York this late at night he must be quite restless. You ponder his being, who he really is and why he’s out this late, completely wrapped up in the idea of him while he watches you curiously from across the booth. “Sorry,” you whisper, averting your eyes back to your waitress as she continues to work on her puzzle. 

A light touch ghosts over your hand that remains folded over your other arm and you turn back to see his right hand held a breath away from your own. “Don’t. There’s nothing to apologize for, okay? You did everything right. That guy out there, fuck ‘em. I’m sorry for you, that you had to even experience that.” He ducks his head to connect your eyes and the right side of his mouth quirks up into a beautiful, half smile. Your eyes fill with tears by the end of his short speech and you grasp onto his hand tightly, bringing it between your folded ones. “God, what if he-” You shake your head, trying to dismiss the thoughts entirely. 

Bucky is quick to grab both of your hands in his right one, meeting in the middle of the table now. “You can’t go down the what if road. You can’t. Trust me I’ve been there, it is not pretty and often leads to even worse places so let me stop you in your tracks. You are here, warm and safe inside this shitty diner,” a small huff escapes his pink lips, cheeks still red themselves from the chill in the air outdoors, but no longer visible inside the heated restaurant. “And I promise to walk you home after you finish your cocoa, scout's honor.” A full, tight-lipped smile graces his face this time, his body leaning further into the table as if to entice you to grow closer yourself.

All too happily, you lean in and meet him there, faces only inches apart. “I’d like that,” you smile back at him. 

Unfortunately for the both of you, the moment is cut short all too soon by the waitress returning with your cocoa and his coffee and eggs. Your smile remains as you watch him thank the waitress, hands still connected all the while. He looks back to you before releasing your, now warm, palms from his grasp. “Drink up before it gets cold,” Bucky states before digging into his own steaming plate of eggs. You wrap both palms around the warm mug of hot chocolate and bring it to your lips. A sigh leaves your chocolate coated lips as you set down your mug, finally feeling somewhat relaxed after the evening you’ve had. 

You startle as Bucky begins to chuckle from across you. “You got whipped cream on your face, doll.” He reaches over with his napkin in hand, clearing the foam from your upper lip. Your cheeks, which had just returned to their normal color in the heated air of the diner, return to their previous red as he retracts his arm.“Thanks,” you shyly whisper. He just nods, continuing to politely stab forkfuls of eggs and shove them in his mouth. As you sip your warm drink, you wonder what it would be like to go on a real date with this kind, gentle man across from you. You quickly remind yourself that in all honesty, this man is a complete stranger to you, not someone to be fantasizing about, even if he is quite possibly the most stunning human being you’ve seen in years.

 “Penny for your thoughts?” You make eye contact with him once again, noticing he has set his fork down and finished his once fluffy eggs. 

“Nothing too important, just daydreaming.” It’s impossible not to smile while gazing into his eyes so you allow your lips to curve up while gazing at him. 

“Well that can’t be true. You’ve barely touched your cocoa.” Finally, you release his gaze to stare at your own, lukewarm drink still three quarters of the way full. 

“Sorry,” you mutter looking straight into him.

“Doll, you gotta stop apologizing to me. Gonna break my heart,” his goofy smile makes you take quick, filling sips of your drink just to escape his teasing. “Okay, don’t go making yourself sick now. Can’t have me taking care of you all night can you?” Rationally, you know he was just kidding around, but was it so bad to continue your lingering fantasy of being in this man's life and having him take care of you, sick or not?

“Of course not, just feel bad keeping you out all night is all. If you have somewhere to be, you don’t have to wait around, you know? I’m okay from here, promise.” 

“Christ, you're definitely crazy if you think I am letting you walk yourself home after everything you’ve been through tonight. I would never forgive myself if I saw your face in the news come tomorrow morning all because I didn’t ensure your safety.” His smile is gone now. Bucky is completely serious and as you maintain steady eye contact, a warmth fills inside of you at how kind he has been tonight. 

“Thank you, for everything. I would appreciate the chaperone home if it's not too much trouble.” 

“Nope, no trouble at all.” He finishes off his coffee after that, finalizing the argument, if you could even call it that. 

“So… you wander the streets of New York in the middle of the night often?” You try to bring his smile back, finding it far more enchanting than the firm face he displayed moments earlier.

“Hmm I suppose I do, but only when I feel like a beautiful woman might need some assistance,” he trails off with that teasing smile right back where you wanted it.

“I don’t frequently have Avengers to help me out when creepy guys follow me home, so thank you for that,” the once pleasant smile on his face drops again and you immediately question what you said wrong.

“Ah, so you do recognize me then.” Now it’s his turn to shift his eyes elsewhere, clearly uncomfortable with the current conversation.

“Hey,” you reach your hand onto his this time, “I am extremely thankful to you, Avenger or not. James, you saved me tonight, remember?” Slowly, as not to raise alarm, he raises his previously tucked away and jacket-covered left arm onto the table. The glove stays on, but you already know what he was trying to delicately hide. “If you thought I was going to be scared of you or think less of you for any reason because of that,” you look at his once hidden arm then back to his still downcast eyes, “then you’re the crazy one. I will forever be eternally grateful to you for this night. Eternally. Whether I never see you again once you walk me home, as promised,” you remind him, “or after tonight we go our separate ways.” 

Deep down you truly hope that you see him after tonight, but with his eyes elsewhere, it’s impossible to tell what he is thinking. “Sorry if I am being too forward… I just-,” you sigh, “I just need you to know that I think you’re a kind person for what you’ve done for me tonight, but also a hero to me for what you’ve done out there.” Finally, he meets your gaze. You try to give him your most sincere smile to encourage him to say something, anything at this point to make you feel less like you have fucked up the entire evening. 

“Thanks, I guess,” he breathes out quietly and you feel yourself relax just a little after that. Before you have a chance to make this more awkward, your waitress returns with the bill, leaving it on your table without a word before turning back to her puzzle. You pull your hands away from him and the table to place them into your lap as he begins to shuffle out of the booth. 

You gaze up at him as he reaches into his wallet and plops a twenty on top of the receipt and reaches his hand towards you as if to help you up. “Wait, let me pay. Please, you saved me, remember?” You take his hand and scoot out of your side of the booth, but turn around to retrieve his bill.

“Nah-uh, doll. It’s on me this time, how ‘bout next time, I let you split it with me?” The smirk he shoots you lets you know you didn’t completely fuck up the entire evening and for the first time all night, you break out into full-blown smile.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He takes your hand in his before leading you out the way you came in and back into the chilly night air. “Where to?” He gazes down at you while you maintain your grin all the same.

“Uh, this way,” you nod your head back towards your original destination, the subway station. Nodding his follows your lead, intertwining your fingers.

“This okay?” You nod your head eagerly to his question, gripping his right hand tightly in your own. “Good.” You exchange remarks back and forth, questions about life and stories of the past as you take the subway home. Finally, you reach your building and come to a stop on the stairs leading up into your apartment.

“So, this is me,” you turn your body to face his own, finally at the same level as you stand a stair above him, hands still intertwined. “Thank you again, Bucky, for everything. It...it means a lot what you did tonight and if you are at all interested, and I seriously hope I am not overstepping some boundary or line, but would you want to grab dinner sometime? Maybe earlier in the evening,” you laugh awkwardly trying to gauge his reaction to your interest. 

“Oh, most definitely. Would you uh- would you be free, say, this Friday evening? I would love to cook you dinner if that’s alright? Have you over for a drink and some pasta maybe?” He clearly questions himself, so you put him out of his misery quickly.

“That sounds wonderful, Bucky. Here, let me give you my number,” you release his hand for the first time since you both left the restaurant as he retrieves what looks like a very outdated cell phone from his back pocket. Once he places it in your open hand, you quickly put in your number and hand it back to its rightful owner. “Well, I guess I’ll see you Friday?”

“Yeah, see you Friday, doll.” You smile at him, trying to will yourself to go inside. You start to turn around, but before you allow yourself to chicken out, you turn back to face Bucky. He continues to give you his signature half smile, watching you debate with yourself. 

Trying not to think too much into it, you bend down and give him a lingering kiss on the cheek before hurrying up the stairs and into your building. You sigh as you get into the elevator and ride up to your floor. What started as a terrifying encounter turned into the blossoming of something you could already tell would be of extreme importance. 

You try to quiet your mind by going through your nightly routine and falling into bed, willing your frazzled brain to turn off as you stare through the dark at your ceiling. Before you have the chance to fall asleep, your phone on your nightstand buzzes, bright light painting the once dark room. You reach over quickly in hopes it’s who you think it is. An unknown number sent you a short but sweet message that brings your smile back once again tonight. ‘Sleep well, doll. Can’t wait to see you again.’ Setting your phone back in its place, you fall asleep easily with your smile locked in place.

[modx-reborn]

It Dosen't Feel Like Falling

One of the three fic's I have been working on! I felt like it was high time I did another DreamXD piece and as I do write for Philza that I do a full piece with him in it.

This is inspired by an ask I had gotten once. So! Here we are, two in one!

SMUT UNDERCUT! MINORS DNI!

Old gods, new, gods, server gods, the minor gods with the name of admin. You had met them all, served under just as many as you had met and yet here you are, serving another serve god when you could have branched off, made your own server, reached beyond what you had been before but no of that seemed appealing to you. Days of crafting landscapes, months of an empty plane as mortals come and go not settling as you would have invited them to do, just a total lack of appeal.

But working under one of the established gods? Now that you can do, this is familiar and easy to work around, even if this was the third server you had served in.

Unlike the others, this servers god was very shall we say inactive in the early days of the server, not really doing much bar sending you to pass messages to the admins and keep the portal to the server clear of the unwelcome.

In doing this you met someone new, a traveller with letters from the server tales of what had been going on with one of the mortals that had been building and bombing each other as of late. Each time he came to the server entrance he would wave the letters at you, asking when he could come through even just for a visit to the one sending the messages, but every time you only could tell him 'No one comes to visit here, if you step through you cannot leave.'

Each time you told him the same look would pass over his face as he looked at the portal, longing but confused, it's not till he comes back with no letter in sight just his cloak and a small bag that you get a name and an explanation for his eagerness for a visit.

His name was Philza, a man that much like yourself had spent years serving one of the older gods and earning his title of the angel of death, and through the portal lay his son. A young man he called Wilbur, telling you this and that from the letters, flitting every now and then to the bag to reach for something only to change his mind, likely some of his son's letters lay inside.

The visit felt like a bid for him to earn your favour so that he could eventually walk the path to the server his son had settled in, yet time and time again he returns. No letters insight, but looking to hold a conversation with you, enjoying the access to someone that may be just as old as he is, if not older, it's enjoyable, to say the least having someone to chatter with on these long periods that you spend perched on top of the entrance portal.

It's almost a friendship if not for the vast difference in your roles, especially when the day comes that he holds an actual invite to the server, the portal is now open to him and he looks so happy as he calls to you. Excitedly calling out that he was finally going to see his son, that even if he couldn't come back the way he came right this second he was finally going to see the person he had been so eager to visit.

But we all know how that tale ends, you were unfortunate enough to have not been at the portal that day, standing beside the server god as he flicks through image after image of the server. Marking areas and places for things to come, writing out invites that will beckon new faces and bring new activities, but one of the images hold stead against the shifting masses, an image of the large settlement that had been in strife since day one.

There amongst the rubble stands your friend, the crow winged man Philza, cradling the body of what you assumed to be his son.

That was death, a final one for this server of three lives, the list of active mortals blinks with two lost names, but your god XD barely reacts, casting his hand across the list and marking their deaths as true, there would be no coming back from that not without XD stepping in and granting them life once again.

Days after that are spent in the endless white halls of the server gods realm, pointing other servants of the world to their duties, never far from the main hub where XD would oversee the server.

"My lord, if I may I have a question for you?"

"And what would that be little one? It is not often one of you who serve have questions."

"I just wanted to ask about the crow, I grew rather fond of him when he was attempting to visit the realm in the early days and I-"

"No."

The abrupt answer stops your questioning, most times anyone talks with XD he is not this blunt, rather sticking to the vague and avoidance of clear answers and yet here he is, clearly expressing a dismissal of your question and bringing more questions to mind.

"My lord what do you mean-"

"It means no little one. No, I will not tell you about the crow or what he may be up to. No, I will not let you into the server to see him, and it means no more questions are to be asked do you understand?"

Server gods do tend to be possesive of their underlings in the presence of other gods, but the crow was a mortal now, bound to a law of another server that was allowed to carry over with him. Blessed or cursed depending on the person, to have only one life and one life alone, but the way XD had reacted was beyond how he would when any of those in his service would be baited into another gods control.

Yet you had not served as long as you had to know that blind loyalty would get you what you want, letting the subject drop and returning to your watch over the server alongside XD.

The moment you had an excuse to leave his side, being called to aid one of the admins in cleaning something from the server did you start to act out. Leaving the admins side to search out Philza, using the knowledge you have of how often XD was watching to weave your way around till you found him, sitting locked away in a house amongst the rebuilt city. Knocking against his door before slipping in, knowing that XD rarely watched inside the mortal's homes, not being interested in watching what went on inside.

This was all you needed to anchor a point of entry for yourself in the home of the crow, watching how his face lit up at the sight of you, springing to his feet and reaching out to take your hands in his own. Seeming excessively happy at the sight of you, pulling you into another room of his home offering you a seat and something to drink, accepting despite knowing you would get nothing out of the substance.

"Been a long time since I last saw you mate! How have you been? Still posted out by the portal, or have you been moved?"

"No no I am no longer by the portal, X-Ahh the lord prefers to have me help with the observations. Actually, I am not even meant to be here right now..."

The look you cast at him when you admit to breaking the god's rule is pure mischief, one that he returns with a slight laugh, knowing exactly what it has been like to the same.

"Well regardless I am glad to have some company, not many people come round these days. Landed myself on the-ahh wrong side of things for the moment, tried to keep someone safe is all."

The visit is short knowing that you would be cutting it close even as you left Philza's home, quickly returning to the post you had abandoned temporarily, not even batting an eye when XD looks down at you. He may not have visible eyes when he wears the mask that mimics his head admin, but you can feel the way he looks at you, trying to unravel just why you were so happy now that you were back.

Things are quick to change between you and the server god when you would normally stand beside him, now one of his many hands are keeping you seated in his lap, unrelenting in their grip on your waist. Trapped in the truest sense and even when you dare to attempt to ask why the only response you are given is a distorted 'mine' and the hands-on you waist tightening their grip.

There are a few more sneaky visits to Philza when you are allowed onto the server, your friendship shifting more and more each time, the hands the guide you to sit in his now tundra bound home linger longer than before, friendly gaze now turning dark when you come in your less casual and more revealing clothes meant for the work you had been planned to aid in.

Somedays even having to bat him away as he follows you back to your return point, laughing when he grabs you trying to keep you from the portal back, enjoying the time you spend together and basking in the understanding that another servant of the gods can bring. Letting yourself slip further from the idea of friendship as well, welcoming the lingering touch and brushing your hands over some of the dark feathers as you pass him by.

All in all, it is a dance around each other to find out who will be the first to falter and give in, enjoying the play as much as you do the person you are playing with despite the way you know in the back of your mind that XD is watching, building to whatever punishment may be coming for defying him and his 'No' from so long ago.

But the punishment you face is so different from what you had in mind, thoughts of being stripped of your service and made mortal being the main ones and yet this outcome is not unwelcome after all these days under watch and quite blatantly breaking a rule that had been set for you and you alone.

Today had been another chance to break free of the hands holding you to the server god, another day that you could spend with someone that had become dear to you. But when it came time to leave Philza's lingering hands stop you, pulling you close and pressing his head to your own, eyes flicking across your face before he speaks.

"You don't have to leave you know dove, you could stay here for a little while longer..."

And so you are made weak, nodding and giving in, letting him lead you back into his home, hands pulling at each other's clothes and stripping down till skin meets skin. Minds to caught in each other to feel the static building in the air, foretelling the arrival of someone that had laid claim to you long before the crow had even known of anything like you.

It's the moment when you are bent over, braced on all fours as he holds your hips to his, buried in you, leaning over you to place more marks on your bare skin looking forward to the blooming marks that will likely not survive past the next few hours, not that he cared. But in how you moan at the feeling of his lips on your skin, you hear the static once again only this time it's not just noise.

Before you forms XD, your lord, god of the server and from how green light is spilling from the cracks of his mask, and his ever manifested hands reach for you lifting your head and pulling you away from the hybrid that had been fucking into you and making you sing, the actual physical hand of your lord wraps around your throat not squeezing just reminding you that he is in control.

His mask is tilted away from you, pointed at the man behind you, whose hands have once again found their way to your hips hoping beyond hope to pull you back and away from the being that had just manifest in his home.

"They are MINE crow, not yours. There is nothing here for you, no matter what you may think, no matter what may happen they are mine."

Any words that may have come from you is lost when your lord's grip falters for a mere second allowing you to be pulled back and into Philza's chest when he speaks, the ghostly hands of XD now pressing into your mouth silencing you as they press against your tongue, a clear show that this was between the hybrid and the god.

"I do believe they chose me mate, seeing as they are here with me, breaking your rules and taking my cock like a good little thing. Not yours."

The pressure on your jaw increases for a moment before distorted laughter fills the air, the bottom half of XD's mask dissolving to show a sharp smile, the display nothing but teeth in truth.

"Maybe so crow but so long as they serve me, they will belong to me. You can have your fun, but not alone."

The few sections of the conversation that reach your mind are muddled the moment your legs are spread once again, still pressed flush to Philza's chest he is quick to lift and line himself up once again, using how you are seated in his lap to have you sink down on his length, once again being fully sheathed in you. While the ethereal hands in your mouth dissipate letting you release an almost feral noise at being filled once again.

To soon after your mouth is emptied are you being pulled forward, the hands of your lord forcing you down onto all fours, putting you at the perfect height for him to press the head of his cock to your lips using the way your mouth falls open as Philza starts to move to press in, weaving a hand into your hair guiding you further and further down his length with every jolt forwards.

The god's doubled voice was louder than the sounds of skin on skin, and even your own choked noises.

"That's it little one, take all of me. It's time you knew your place, you can play with the mortals all you like but you will always come back to me. Always."

And he was right, even if you kept sneaking down here to see philza there were things beyond explanation that bound you too XD, and yet feeling the way Philza was fucking you, thrusting with little care for how it was making you almost choke on the length that was already pressing into your throat was intoxicating in its own way.

There was nothing to prepare you for what was about to come, hearing XD release a breath before his hips begin moving in a proper sense, short thrusts turning to rough snaps of his hips, using your mouth to chase his own pleasure. Watching how tears began to build and fall from your eyes, his smile still nothing but teeth as he fucks your face at the same pace as Philza was.

Neither mortal nor god was caring at that moment for anything beyond showing you their claim on you, from the drool that had slicked your chin as XD kept up his brutal use of your throat, to the bruising grip on your hips as Philza finally begins to find his end. The crow hybrid giving in to the feeling of you clutching around him even though throughout this ordeal neither of them had been focused on your own pleasure.

Selfish they may have been, but there is something that feels so good about being pressed between a mortal that had worked his way into your care and the god of which you had sworn service to, despite the voice in the back of your mind that whines when Philza pulls himself from you his hands moving from your hips to spreading your cheeks to watch how his cum drips from your hole there is nothing but want still colouring your thoughts.

Strings of spit connect you too XD when he pulls free from your mouth, ethereal hands once more form to grab at you, pulling you away from Philza and into the god's lap.

"What comes next little one is for my eyes only."

You can feel a brief moment when Philza tried to reach for you, fingers slipping through the fading form of you and the server god, leaving him alone on his bed.

[tarosin]

the great adventures of y/n and ranboo

this is an extra part to the great adventures series

summary: part two to the angst imagine (the not so great adventures of y/n tommy tubbo jack and ranboo) it’s a happier ‘ending’ please read what is written in bold

this is an “alternative ending” around 15 years into the future this doesn’t mean this is actually how the series is going to end im writing it now and including it as part of series as their friendship is already established i can confirm y/n and the group are going to have a happy ending when the series eventually comes to an end this also does not mean the series is anywhere near the end i plan on continuing the series as vlogs come out, i feel the need to confirm this now love between y/n and ranboo in this imagine is completely platonic

it had been about a month since you last streamed whereas ranboo continued to stream a few days after the fallout as he wanted to make sure you were going to be okay. even though ranboo knew this huge fallout would eventually happen, it still hurt him, especially since he knew there was no way to prevent it, the four of you in the same house mixed with the stress of being some of the most-watched content creators made living rather difficult. it was like walking on eggshells as you didn’t want to interrupt someone's stream, then there was the additional stress of obsessive fans finding out where the four of you lived, you still remember that day very vividly. you were sat in between tubbo and ranboo watching the office whilst Tommy was in an interview when you received a message from your mod.

Chris: hey y/n I received this message earlier I don’t want to scare you, but maybe get the locks changed. someone sent a message claiming this is your address *image of message from ‘fan’*

it didn’t take long for tubbo and ranboo to receive a message from their mods saying the same thing

“holy shit...”

“chances are Tommy has the message too. we shall go check around the house when Tommy is done with the interview.”

luckily no one ever showed up to the house, but the fact some people were so obsessed to the point they found your address was enough to put everyone in the house on edge. and now it was just you and ranboo in the house. you didn’t feel safe as even though ranboo promised to not let anything happen, you didn’t wanna risk it.

“we should move. there’s no point in having such a big house for two people, what are we going to use the extra space for heh? hide and seek with people who have our address. no thank you. I say we move leave this mess behind and start completely over, hell I’d feel safer in the us and that’s saying something”

ranboo agreed the house didn’t have the happiest memories attached to it anymore, it hurt walking past the hallway as it would bring back the memory of him crying into the crook of y/ns neck whilst tubbo left the house.

“let’s do it, I’ll do an early stream then we can look for houses. go take a shower. I’ll stay close to the door so you’re safe, then you can stay in my room whilst I stream, you can join me if you would like.”

“you’re being very protective all of a sudden...let me guess you got the message from our mods announcing the obsessive fans are at it again?”

“go take a shower.”

“no.”

ranboo ended up picking you up, carried you to the bathroom and turned the shower on before putting you on your feet.

“quick shower I’ll see you later.”

and with that he left the room shutting the door behind him, 30 minutes later you got changed and followed ranboo to his room ready to join him whilst he streams

“hey boo, can I join you? I kinda wanna get into streaming again.”

“I'm so glad you asked, I was going to do a face cam stream, if that’s okay?”

“of course.”

you grabbed his mask and glasses whilst he locked the door so you were both safe. “here you go.”

“thank you.”

the pair of you started the stream and it was honestly going well, you were having so much fun you forgot about all the negative things currently going on, you began to understand why ranboo continued streaming as for those 2-4 hours of streaming it felt as though everything was back to normal. 3 hours later the two of you ended stream and Twitter went crazy. tweets ranged from fans talking about how ranboo was streaming with you, how Tommy was in chat, and how tubbo was modding as people who mentioned anything about their address being leaked were banned by tubbo. the one thing that caught ranboos eye was fan art and a picture of you both from the stream captioned ‘they’re platonic soulmates your honour’ ranboo went as far to like, retweet and comment on it.

ranaltboo: glad you liked the stream it was great having y/n back, think I might make them play tattletail next stream

definitelynoty/n: isn’t that the Furby game that terrified you in 2021? bring it on boo!

Twitter went crazy over this interaction, you had finally come back to social media after months of being inactive, and it looked like you were here to stay. a month later you and ranboo moved out of the house and sold it to your aunt and her wife and their three adopted children, you explained the situation and even changed the locks for them all before they moved in.

“Please do tell us if anyone shows up who shouldn’t be. we changed the locks as you were aware- oh hello little one.”

you noticed one of their children decided to cling onto your leg

“I like your hair it’s colourful!”

“Indeed it is.”

“WOAH A GIANT!”

the little girl let go of your leg and ran to ranboo asking to be picked up, unsure of what to do he looked towards you. however, you were too busy laughing about the fact he was compared to a giant.

“I'm so sorry uh if you want to pick her up you can, you don’t have to.”

“pick me up, tall man... I want to be taller!”

ranboo ended up standing next to you with an arm around your waist whilst the child sat on his shoulders happily playing with his hair.

“ranboo do not drop that child.”

“I didn't- I didn't plan on it y/n.”

eventually, it was time to leave and the child reluctantly let go of ranboo.

“bye-bye!! hope to see you soon!”

soon enough you were at a smaller house, far away from the old house, leaving behind the negative feelings. it could only get better, a week later the pair of you had settled into the new house, it finally felt like home. you and ranboo were now streaming full time again, safe to say the two of you were thriving and closer than ever.

“so I’m thinking if I hit the sub-goal today I’ll let chat pick what colour I dye my hair.”

“make it higher, and I’ll let you cut my hair.”

“Are you being serious? oh my god!”

a few minutes later you took to Twitter to announce you were going live.

y/n: kidnapping children in the sims with ranboo psst check the subgoal.

within 20 minutes you had hit the sub-goal, chat ended up picking another random neon colour for your hair.

“right hair dye and the cutting stream will be this weekend, now let’s go back to kidnapping.”

tubbo, tommy, and jack felt awful for what happened and went back to the house where you used to live, hoping to see you there so they could apologise, tubbo knocked on the door only to be met by a young child.

“my sister watches you on twitch!”

“oh that’s lovely.. are y/n and ranboo here?”

an older woman came to the door.

“oh no, I’m sorry dear they both moved out, but they left this box and said to give it to you if you returned.”

“do you know where they moved to?”

“I'm sorry dear, I'm not allowed to tell you that information for safety reasons.”

“I understand, thanks anyway.”

they ended up going back to jacks where the three of them had been staying.

“We should open the box.”

tubbo opened the box and emptied the items onto the floor, inside was the rocks y/n handed tubbo from every trip, photos of the group, a necklace y/n had gifted to Tommy a day before the argument, and a hat y/n had taken from jack during a trip to a zoo.

“what the fuck!”

“holy shit!”

“they really kept all these in hopes we would come back?”

“and now we’re too late.”

it was now the weekend you and ranboo were ready to stream, you stood leaning on ranboo who was significantly smaller than you as you lowered the chair he sat on.

“starting stream...now.”

after the starting soon intro played, you explained what was happening to any new viewers or people who didn’t watch the stream.

“so I’m about to become Edward Scissorhands...I love that film can we watch it later?”

“yeah mhm sure!”

you didn’t know this but your ex best friends were watching and ever so often would show up in the chat.

“so boo, what are we doing with your hair today?”

“just a trim please darling?”

“This is y/ns hairdressers you get what I’m capable of!”

you ended up doing a pretty good job of cutting ranboos hair, even he was impressed.

“I didn’t doubt you for a minute!”

“mhm sure thing please don’t mess up my hair tall one!”

soon enough you had the dye on. 45 minutes later you left to wash it off, leaving ranboo to entertain stream,

“chat I think I missed some of their hair it’s okay, I own scissors, I’ll just cut it.. speaking of they did a great job, didn't they? I honestly expected them to mess up.”

a few minutes later you joined ranboo again and spent the next few hours talking with chat. tubbo, tommy, and jack stayed the entire time. they loved the fact you and ranboo were able to stay close after what happened, Tommy noticed you were still wearing the necklace he got you many years ago and spammed them chat with him tubbo and jack

Tommy: THEYRE WEARING THE NECKLACE!!

jack: so what? they clearly don’t wanna talk to us.

tubbo: shut up listen to them.

“chat why are we spamming platonic soulmates?”

“they’ve been saying it all over Twitter, look on trending y/n.”

you started to blush slightly at all the amazing artwork soon enough the stream came to an end, after saying goodbye the pair of you sat together going through fan art. unfortunately the one that caught your eye was this one twitter post where the artist had created a drawing of a piece of paper with you, ranboo, tommy, tubbo, and jack, however the paper was ripped separating you and ranboo from the others, captioned ‘it was never meant to be’ this clearly upset ranboo as he took off his mask and glasses placing them on the desk before going straight to his bed.

“boo…are you okay?”

“Are you tired of me? are you going to leave next?”

“what? no of course not! I could never get tired of you, why do you ask?”

“everyone else has left..i thought they cared about us, i knew it would happen eventually and i couldn’t stop it, i’m sorry, y/n, please don’t hate me.”

you sat on the edge of the bed looking down at the floor,

“come here.”

you watched him roll over to face you.

“you know there’s no one else who I'd rather spend the rest of my life with, right…if i hated you i wouldn’t have moved house with you. it’s not your job to fix everything and make everything better, you’re a streamer for christ sake not a therapist.”

“i guess so.. can we watch that thing you were on about for ages.”

“edward scissorhands? “

“mhm!”

you could tell he wanted to be distracted, so you agreed and put the film on, towards the end you began to get upset due to how overwhelming everything was.

“Why are you crying?”

“poor Edward.”

“come here.”

ranboo pulled you into a hug you laid there crying into his chest, he knew that wasn’t the reason you were crying, but he wasn’t about to make you tell him, luckily it didn’t take long for you to stop crying as ranboo quickly distracted you.

“ranboo..”

“yeah y/n?”

“I feel bad i didnt realise how much pressure was on you whilst everyone was arguing.”

“Hey, it’s okay, is that what’s upsetting you?”

“mhm.”

“don’t blame yourself, i’d do it all over again to keep you safe and happy..then again i didn’t do a good job on keeping you happy.”

“you did..you were always there for me even when i gave up on social media, you shared your room with me after i started receiving creepy messages from that obsessed fan, hell you even went on adventures with me even though it was clear you hadn’t been sleeping, just so we could spend time together and forget about what was happening. you mean a lot to me boo.”

“i love you.”

“i love you too bud, I’m tired.”

“go to sleep, it’s been a long day.”

“okay.”

“you just staying there?”

“yes.”

“oh, oh okay, goodnight.”

about a year later the two of you were still thriving, ranboo got you a promise ring a few months earlier.

“heh what’s this for?”

“as your best friend i promise to stay by your side and keep you safe and make sure that you’re happy, in other words you're stuck with me till the end of time.”

“boo…i really don’t know what to say.. thank you so much!”

“you don’t have to say anything!”

you ended up going out to buy him a promise ring when he started the stream and decided to take your cousins with you now that they were a little older. ranboo was doing a facecam stream when the door slammed open revealing you covering your three younger cousins ranboo not realising you were hiding them from the camera, instinctively stood up covering the camera

“ranboooooo!”

“yes you three and y/n ,what do you need?”

“we would like to watch a film!”

“Okay, i’ll go put one on, y/n will you entertain chat?”

“sure thing boo boy!”

once they left you sat fixing your hair forgetting you were wearing the ring chat noticed this and went crazy, so did Tommys group with tubbo and jack.

tubbo: that’s a ring, right??

jack: yeah looks like it.

Tommy: holy shit I always thought if anyone was gonna get married it would be tubbo and y/n, they were inseparable.

tubbo: hilarious.

jack: it could just be a ring, no one mentioned marriage tommy!

Tommy: we should congratulate them.

jack: at least let them explain fucking hell.

soon enough ranboo came back into the room,

“sorry one of them found it hilarious to steal my glasses...”

“they’re little shits i swear to god but i love them.”

you both noticed chat going crazy and both looked at each other before laughing.

“i'm sorry, i can’t take you serious in the mask and glasses!”

“i can’t take you serious with neon hair, but here we are!”

“rude!”

you and ranboo quickly put an end to the rumours,

“no we’re not engaged or married, it is a promise ring. no they’re not our children, they’re y/ns cousins they just spend a lot of time here..chat stop calling me and y/n parents and comparing us to phil that’s not..that’s not how it works okay!”

“parent arc!”

“y/n, don’t encourage them!”

“it’s a little bit funny!”

soon enough the bit came to an end and eventually ranboo ended the stream.

“hey boo look what i got you”

you handed him a little black box, inside was a ring similar to yours

“i promise to always stick around and be here for you”

“oh my god”

ranboo tackled you into a hug thanking you several times for his rings. you and ranboo were living your best life meanwhile jack, tommy, and tubbo were stuck dealing with the guilt of what happened, but they’re weren’t giving up that easy. they wanted you both back, that’s when you received a notification, tommyinnit has sent you a message request: hey y/n can we talk..please?

taglist

@dumb-chaotic-bi-energy @uselesssapphickitten @l0ver0fj0y @etheriaaly @xx-smiley-xx @hawarun @kylobensgirl @cawcaw-pretty-thing @reverse-iak @renleicrashed @augustine-is-joy @c1loudee

[effeminateboyninja]

I had a dream last night that I had an unrequited crush on Shikamaru since forever but he and Temari had started dating.

(In the dream I had me and Shiki we’re walking and joking then Temari came over and then they went for dinner together. As Shikamaru’s friend I was like -arm punch- go on bro, have fun. And they walked away together leaving me feeling heartbroken, inadequate and inferior.)

You can do any scenario you want. I literally have an unrequited love playlist lol 😂❤️

oh anon, i've been there 😭 let us wallow in our unrequited love for Shikamaru together

~ Almost enough ~

(Shikamaru x fem!reader) angst // 1.7k words

Ten years. An entire decade with Shikamaru by your side, getting into the carefree mischief that defined such childhood friendships and growing so close people were surprised to see one of you without the other. More than half of it spent trying to ignore the butterflies and daydreams that would force you to admit you wanted him to be more. In hindsight it seemed inevitable, the way he’d snuck into your heart before you could even notice. With his striking intelligence and those penetrating eyes, the way he so readily discarded his lazy demeanor and replaced it with hardened determination when his friends needed him — how could you not love him?

You accepted it too late though, spent too many months agonizing over how to tell your best friend that you were head over heels for him, and by the time you were finally brave enough to take the plunge and make your confession he had one of his own. That day was cemented in your mind now, a stinging reminder of your own inaction. Against your better judgement you drifted back into the memory...

It was beautiful out, the warm air offset by a gentle breeze that carried the spring blossoms through the wind as he sat across the shogi board from you, his sharp brow furrowed in concentration as he analyzed the pieces to determine his next move. One of the petals caught in his dark hair and your hand moved to brush it away, but before you could he sat back with a sigh, “Do you wanna do something else? I’m not really into the game.”

“Why? Because I’m winning?” you teased.

He rolled his eyes and cracked a small grin. “You’re only winning because I’m not giving it my all,” he objected.

“Sure, sure,” you threw a light punch at his shoulder and you both laughed. He looked so pretty when he laughed. Not the snarky chuckle he used so often in public, but this unapologetically cheerful one accompanied by a toothy smile that was so carefree and genuine it transformed his serious face into something softer, more innocent. The words never seemed easier to say than it that moment, and without your permission they slipped through your lips as the laughter died out.

“I love you.”

He didn’t even skip a beat, returning your confession with an eye roll and a gentle shove. “Shut up dude, I love you too. You’re my best friend, I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Your heart sunk a bit at his misinterpretation and you parted your lips to explain that yes, he’s your best friend too but he’s also so much more, but before you could he went on, “Speaking of love, I wanted to ask for some advice... about Temari.”

His eyes darted to his hands and a soft blush crept across his cheeks. You’d have thought he punched you in the stomach, not timidly asked for your help by the way your body tensed at his words. You didn’t know disappointment could feel so tangible until that moment, the way your stomach dropped to your feet and your hands went cold. “Temari?” you questioned, clearing your throat to rid it of the lump that had formed, “you love her?”

He jolted up and the red in his cheeks deepened. “Nono of course not!” he stammered, “I just… I like her a lot and like, you’re a girl right? How do I win her over?”

For the first time in your life you regretted being so close to him. Couldn’t he have gone to literally anyone else for help with this? Why did it have to be you? To him you were the only one he could approach about such an important topic. It wasn’t just because you were a girl that he asked, but because he valued your opinion above anyone else's. It was because even if it wasn’t the way you wanted, he wasn’t lying when he said he loved you too. So you pushed it all aside — all the heartbreak and sadness that threatened to overwhelm you — you buried it deep down inside for the sake of your friend, looking so nervous and vulnerable as he sat in front of you and put on a fake smile as you did your best to be what he needed in that moment.

“Well you’re a catch so it should be easy, but if you really want to impress her you should…”

“Hey! Are you even listening to me?” Shikamaru waved his hand in front of your eyes, pulling you out of your recollection and back to the present where you walked easily beside him through the streets, no real destination in mind.

You blinked a few times to reorient yourself and apologized with what you hoped was a reassuring smile, “Sorry, I’m just a little distracted today.”

He snickered, “Who has their head in the clouds now, huh?”

“You’ve been a bad influence on me,” you retorted with a smirk and he laughed.

“You’re probably right,” he conceded. “Hey, do you remember when we were kids and we would skip class to go cloud watching?”

He wore a thoughtful smile as he posed the question, his eyes lost in a content nostalgia. God, why did he have to look so damn perfect when he smiled?

You cleared your head and scoffed, “Of course. I still get grief from my mother about all the absence notes Iruka sensei sent home.”

He snorted, “You actually gave her those?! I always ripped mine up before she could see them,” his sentence trailed off into a laugh, one of those real ones that you lived for the sound of and you joined him, forgetting momentarily about your unrequited feelings.

But of course the moment ended much too soon. You noticed her at the same time he did, and you were glad the Nara man’s intense gaze was so singularly focused on the blonde woman ahead that he wouldn’t notice the way your face fell as your laughter cut off abruptly. She waved excitedly from her position a few blocks down and rushed towards you guys, her short pigtails bouncing behind her as she ran.

“Hey you guys!” she greeted the two of you excitedly as she arrived, giving Shikamaru a quick peck on the cheek, causing a small wince you hoped went unnoticed. “Ready for our date?”

“Shit! I almost forgot,” he palmed his forehead and turned to you apologetically, “we’re supposed to get dinner tonight, we have a reservation and everything. Sorry to leave you like this but we’ve gotta go.”

“No worries!” you flashed them a bright smile, one that was uncharacteristically wide in an attempt to compensate for your disappointment. “Go on and take your girl out. Have fun.”

You shoved him towards her lightly and Temari smiled, “Yeah! Listen to (y/n), she’s got the right idea.”

He looked at her the way you’d dreamed he would look at you and laced his fingers through hers, moving to lead her away in the direction of the restaurant. He looked over his shoulder and called back, “See ya tomorrow!” They both waved before turning back ahead, swaying gently as they matched each other’s steps.

“See ya…” you whispered to yourself, their shared giggles echoing off the buildings as they turned the corner and disappeared from your sight.

Nowhere else to go and not wanting to return to your empty apartment you turned to continue walking the sandy streets of the village and ponder. After a while you found yourself at a small pond, where you sat at the edge and peered into the calm water that reflected the crescent of the rising moon in it’s glossy reflection.

What was it about her? Why her and not you? Maybe it’s because she’s so beautiful, you thought forlornly as you traced the lines of your own plain features in the watery mirror below. You hit your hand over the surface to disturb the picture of yourself, water splashing back and mixing with tears that had started to fall on your cheeks.

That wasn’t it and you knew it. Shikamaru wasn’t that shallow. If he was this might be easier. He was with her and not you because she was perfect for him. Even you could admit that in spite of your own feelings she was his ideal match. He just lit up around her in a way that he never did when you were together, and as painful as that was there was an unselfish part of you that appreciated her for it.

You’d spent a lot of time trying to hate her. Trying to find a reason, any reason that they shouldn’t be together to justify telling him your truth and ruining it all — but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Underneath the hard exterior she really was kind, extremely so. She was more perceptive about matters of the heart than he was, and you suspected she knew of your true feelings for her boyfriend… but she never once made you feel bad about it or told him. Not that she needed to try to make you feel guilty, the feeling overwhelmed you everytime they were around, and even more so when it was just the two of you.

The small part that was left of you still concerned with self-preservation told you to cut them both off. To just stop answering his calls and disappear from their lives before you could slip up and lean in for the kiss you imagined millions of times. But he was addicting. No one else made you feel so at ease, made you laugh so joyfully except him. So you’d wade through the guilt and the knowledge that you were only hurting yourself just to spend a few minutes with him whenever you could, even if it meant watching him fall in love with someone else. Being his friend was enough. Almost.

[pufflyhallows]

Getaway

Gif not mine

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Summary: Business is going bad after the war and Fred is not feeling so great, so you decide to cheer him up with a special trip.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, language, tiny tiny bit of angst, still fluffy tho

a/n: this is my FIRST smut EVER so... be nice? also, Fred fucking LIVES bc I’m in denial forever lol

Word count: 4,3k

********

You wanted to surprise Fred.

He had been feeling down lately. Ever since he and George reopened the shop after the war, things had been a little tough. The movement was still quite slow, given the fact that people were still recovering from the war, mourning their lost ones and starting new lives. It was a difficult time for everyone, and of course it affected Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes as well.

What ached your heart the most was the fact that there wasn’t much you could do to help him. Every day you watched as he took longer to get out of bed in the morning, how he sounded slower and quieter when talking to you and, the worst part, how he acted quite mechanic when doing his chores around the shop, the same ones he enjoyed so much in the past and had always gotten done with a bright smile on his face. And although he never stopped caring for you or being loving to you, the bedroom had become… inactive. And you missed it. You missed being intimate with your boyfriend, but every time you tried to initiate it, he would softly decline, claiming to be too tired. You believed it. You could see he was indeed exhausted. And not only physically, but mentally too. Perhaps the latter was actually the one weighing more.

George, however, was quite the opposite. He kept his optimism high and was always the first to wake up every morning, excited with the new day and new possibilities. He would often go out and promote the shop, talk to people and sometimes even manage to bring a customer in.

This big difference between them worried you. No, you did not expect the twins to act the same, but you hoped in secret that Fred would follow his brother’s steps and cheer up a bit.

Cheer up. Yeah. That was exactly what he needed. And what better way to cheer up someone than a surprise trip? That’s how you were going to take his mind off of work. With Hermione’s help, you planned a very romantic weekend trip out of town. You talked to George beforehand, of course, but he assured you he could take care of the shop by himself for two days. He agreed Fred needed this.

“It’s not like we’re getting many customers anyway,” he had said.

So, as Friday approached, you felt the excitement building up. You managed to act completely nonchalant around him, making sure he didn’t suspect a thing. It wasn’t a big, expensive hotel because you knew he would worry about money and that was the opposite of what you wanted for this trip. Hermione had helped you pick a small, comfy hotel that was quite charming and fit your pocket perfectly. You wanted to make sure Fred felt loved, cared for and relaxed. There was also a little extra surprise inside your suitcase that you really hoped he would like…

What you didn’t know was that Fred felt guilty. He reckoned he hadn’t been the boyfriend you deserved lately, but he couldn’t help it. The stress was almost eating him alive and his mind was always wandering back to the shop, worrying about its future. You had been so kind and patient with him, he knew you deserved better than that. The whole thing was snowballing and sometimes he couldn’t see it ending.

That Friday, when you got home from work, the shop was still open and there was actually a customer inside, talking with George. You felt relief wash over you, because you knew what that meant: Fred was probably in a good mood.

You walked straight to the flat, not daring to interrupt George, but you stopped in the middle of the stairs to watch. He was speaking with such enthusiasm, showing and explaining his products to the young boy, that it filled you with pride. You caught his eyes for a brief moment and noticed the smallest of smirks appear on his lips. Smiling back, you nodded at him. Fred was nowhere to be seen, though, so you went upstairs.

There was a delicious scent coming from the kitchen. The older twin was there, cooking. You smiled to yourself at the sight. His favorite The Weird Sisters record was playing somewhere in the flat, adding a familiar, comfortable feel to the whole scene. Fred’s back was facing you while he chopped… carrots? on the counter. He didn’t seem to notice your presence just yet, so you took advantage of that. Placing your bag on the nearest chair, you walked in quiet steps towards your boyfriend. The fresh mint aroma coming from him meant he had probably just showered. Oh, and how you missed showering with him.

You couldn’t refrain your smile from growing even bigger once you noticed Fred’s body was swinging from side to side, so imperceptibly that you almost missed it. Carefully, you wrapped your arms around him from behind, resting your cheek on his back. You felt him tense up for a mere second before realizing who it was. He soon relaxed, letting go of the knife and placing his clean hand on yours.

“Didn’t hear you coming in,” he stated, voice low and raspy.

You hummed in response and placed a soft kiss on the nape of his neck. Fred turned around and briefly met your lips with his.

“It’s gonna take a while. Why don’t you go take a bath?”

“I will,” you nodded, running your hand from his chest to his shoulder and squeezing it gently. “How was your day?”

He shrugged. “Okay.”

“Okay”, you repeated. “Well, I hope I can make it better. I have a surprise for you after dinner.”

“A surprise?”

“Yes. I have an idea of how we can spend your days off.”

“Hm… Making plans already, are we?”

“Very good plans, yes. But you’ll have to wait until dinner.”

“Or you could tell me right now so I won’t have to.”

“But where’s the fun in that?”

You smirked and gave him another peck on the lips before rushing off the kitchen and leaving your boyfriend to his curiosity and imagination.

The warm bath made you think about a lot of things and you came to realize you were very lucky. The war was over and there you were, taking a bath in your boyfriend’s flat, the person you loved the most in the world. So many people lost their loved ones, their homes, their entire lives in that war. You knew you had many reasons to feel happy and should not take them for granted. Life was good for you right now, and you acknowledged it, promising to yourself that you were going to enjoy it the best you could, with Fred by your side.

George joined the two of you for dinner, which turned out to be the best you had in months. Not because of the food, although it was perfect, but because it felt like everything was back to normal, like all the meals you had shared before the war. Maybe it was the idea of a day off and the mention of a surprise from you, but you could see that Fred was already less gloomy or aloof.

After the meal, as if sensing you wanted to reveal your plans to Fred, George excused himself to his bedroom, claiming he still had to finish some work. You wished him goodnight, not missing the discrete wink he gave you.

“So…” you started, watching as Fred emptied his glass of pumpkin juice. “Remember when I said I had an idea on how to spend your days off?”

“Oh, yes. The surprise.”

“Well… I figured you could use a little rest from everything, so I made a reservation at a very nice hotel for the two of us to spend the weekend at.”

“You what?” Fred asked, a small smile starting to grace his lips.

“The portkey is set for our departure at 10 a.m. tomorrow.”

“But-”

“Nope. No buts,” you shook your head. “I have already packed our bags.”

“Y/N, doll, I don’t know what to say.”

“Tell me I’m amazing, the best thing that ever happened to you, an angel sent from heaven…  Something humble like that.”

Fred chuckled, that contagious sound you missed hearing so much. “You’re amazing. You are the best thing that ever happened to me, a true angel sent from heaven.”

“I know! We’re gonna have so much fun,” you smiled excitedly, clasping your hands together.

“What exactly are your plans for us, though?” your boyfriend questioned, curiosity dripping from his lips.

“Oh, you’ll find out once we’re there.”

“The surprise doesn’t end here, I see.”

“Exactly. I have everything planned, baby.”

The look in Fred’s eyes seemed to indicate he had an idea of what you had planned, but he did not say a word about it. He would like to see the surprise reveal itself in the right moment. He wasn’t going to spoil your plans in any way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You always had your doubts when it came to ads, but this time you had to admit this was spot on. The hotel looked exactly like its pictures and descriptions.

“Mr. and Mrs. Weasley?” the receptionist asked as soon as you stepped in the lobby.

It was something so small, so simple, but it made your heart flutter and stomach fill with those restless butterflies. Mrs. Weasley. Were you ever going to become that? You wondered if Fred even noticed the little misunderstanding.

“Um,” you cleared your throat. “Actually, it’s just one Weasley. Fred Weasley. I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

Your slight flustered manner didn’t go unnoticed by Fred. Despite the obvious nervousness, he thought it was rather cute. In fact, he liked to hear you be called that. Perhaps he should do something about it…

“Oh, I apologize. Mr. Weasley and Miss Y/L/N,” the receptionist corrected herself as she checked the reservation’s book. “You’re right on time, your room is ready for you. I just need your wands for ID confirmation before I give you your key.”

Both of you handed your wands to the young woman behind the desk and she did as she was supposed to. Sooner than you had anticipated, you were in the lovely suite you had reserved.

Fred placed the small handbag on the bed – blessed be the extension charm, that’s all you had to carry for that trip – and walked around the room curiously. You went straight for the big window and opened the curtains. There it was. The view you had seen on the ad and that had made you instantly choose this hotel.

“Fred,” you called softly, looking behind you. “Come see.”

Your boyfriend let go of the catalog on the nightstand and approached you, eyeing the outside in awe.

“Wow,” he breathed. “It’s beautiful.”

“Isn’t it?”

When making the reservation, you were met with the question: would you like a room with view to the street/village or to the beach? And you chose the beach, although the village was a lovely sight. Now, seeing Fred’s reaction, you were absolutely sure you had made the right choice.

The hotel was in a small village where both wizards and muggles lived. With a little help from magic, the wizards could go unnoticed and the muggles lived everyday life without a single clue of the existence of such peculiar neighbors. The beach was right behind the village, and your room being in the back of the hotel, you had a wonderful privileged view of nature’s beauty.

“Wanna go down there?” you asked.

“What’s in your plans?” he asked back, switching his gaze from the window to you.

“Beach,” you replied with a small smile. “Basically the entire day at the beach, lunch at a muggle restaurant down there too. But dinner here.”

“I’ll follow your script, doll.”

Fred placed his hand on your waist and pulled you closer, pressing his lips ever so gently on yours. You instantly let go of the curtains so you could run your fingers through his soft hair. The light fabric fell back to its place, covering the windows again and leaving the room a little darker than before. Fred’s gentle kiss wasn’t so gentle anymore.

No, not yet.

You broke the kiss and pulled back, biting your lip as you started to feel that you might not be able to wait until the right time for your surprise.

“I’m starving,” you whispered against his lips.

“Me too,” he pulled you closer again.

“Let’s go, then.” You managed to get out of his embrace and grab the handbag before heading to the bathroom to change into your bathing suit.

A hungry Fred was left standing by the big window.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been hard.

It had been hard seeing you in so little clothing, dripping wet, skin glistening as droplets of water reflected the sunlight. But Fred managed.

All he had in his mind every time he saw you leaving the water was how he wanted to take you then and there. He had to distract himself from those thoughts, paying attention to what you were saying but not too much to your moving lips. He knew you had something planned and he was appreciative of how much effort you had put in this weekend for him. That was the only reason he wasn’t indulging to his not-so-pure thoughts.

Lunch was a good distraction too, specially since you had to convince a muggle child she had imagined it when she saw Fred stop his falling fork mid-air.

Now, as the two of you walked hand in hand back to the hotel, he wondered if he was going to be rewarded for the self-control test he had just passed. You were humming a song as you observed the houses, trying to guess which ones were muggles and which ones were wizards.

“What’s next?” he asked.

“Dinner!” you answered excitedly. “But, if I were you, I wouldn’t go overboard.”

“Why, if I may ask?” but Fred already suspected why.

“Well… there might be plans for after dinner as well.”

Fred held your hand tighter and pulled you towards the hotel in a faster pace. You chuckled, feeling the excitement grow bigger and bigger.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Dessert?” the waiter asked as he took the empty plates from your table.

“No, thank you,” Fred replied before you had the chance. “We’re calling it a night, aren’t we, sweetheart?”

“Actually,” you smirked at your boyfriend before looking at the waiter. “I’d like chocolate pudding, please.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

As soon as the waiter left, Fred gave you a look.

“What?” you asked nonchalantly.

“I thought you said we wouldn’t go overboard.”

“I’m not going overboard. I had a small plate,” you shrugged.

“Right,” Fred sighed, bouncing his leg under the table.

When your chocolate pudding came, you grabbed the spoon and took a small amount to your mouth. Fred watched your every move, arms crossed and brows slightly furrowed as he saw you slowly lick the spoon. You pretended you didn’t know he was watching, eyes on the tiny bowl in front of you, and you mouthed another spoon, unintentionally getting pudding all over your lips.

Your boyfriend gulped as he watched you run your thumb over your lower lip, getting rid of the chocolate there, and gently suck on it.

“For fuck’s sake, Y/N,” he mumbled.

“Hm?” you looked at him innocently.

“Just eat the damn thing.”

“You want some?” you raised the spoon at him.

“Yes, I want some.”

You felt your cheeks burn just a little bit with his remark, heart begin to race as the ideas for what you wanted to do to him tonight started to flood your mind.

“If you wait patiently, you might get what you want,” you teased, looking back at the bowl and already serving another spoon, which you quickly brought to your lips, licking all the content off of it.

Fred shook his head, one corner of his lips going upwards ever so slightly, eyes glued on you.

“You sure you don’t want to taste it?” you offered again, lips glistening as you cleaned them with your tongue.

“I will taste it,” his eyes pierced through your body and suddenly the hotel was too hot.

You had barely served the last spoon of pudding when Fred stood up and let the waiter know you were headed to the room.

“I haven’t finished yet,” you protested and he immediately took the last spoon from your hand and into his mouth.

“Now you have,” he said as he pulled you from the chair.

The way back to the suite felt much longer than it actually was, but as soon as you reached the door, Fred’s lips were on yours. You had trouble to get the key with your boyfriend’s hands all over you, pulling your body hard against his.

“Fred,” you breathed, stepping back. “There’s another surprise.”

Before he could say anything, you unlocked the door and went inside.

“Sit down,” you slowly pushed him to the bed. “And close your eyes.”

Fred complied with no protests, but you could see he was getting flustered, probably guessing what was coming.

You blew out most of the candles illuminating the room and left only a few to create the romantic atmosphere you wanted. You went to the bathroom and changed into the expensive lacy lingerie you had bought for this exact occasion. It was red, a color you had learned Fred was very fond of when it came to this kind of clothing, and had one small, delicate bow right between your breasts.

“Are your eyes closed?” you asked from the bathroom, hand on the doorknob.

“Yeah,” you heard in response.

“No peeking ‘til I tell you to,” you warned.

“…‘kay.”

You opened the door and stepped out of the bathroom. Fred was still sitting on the bed, one leg bouncing impatiently, and a slight frown between his eyebrows.

Slowly, you approached the bed and stood right in front of him.

“Open your eyes,” you whispered.

As soon as he did, Fred sucked in a shaky, quiet breath. He eyed you from head to toe, not hiding his astonishment.

“Baby,” he mumbled in a deep voice, already feeling his pants get a little too tight as his eyes still traveled through your entire figure.

“Do you like it?” you asked.

“Mm-hmm,” he nodded, biting his bottom lip.

“Good,” you smiled, placing your hands on each of his shoulders. “Now let me show you how proud I am to be your girlfriend.”

Your lips met Fred’s in a slow, deep kiss as you climbed the bed and straddled him, your arms thrown around his neck. Fred let out a soft moan when he felt your weight against his lap, his hands going up your back, fingertips sending shivers down your spine as they searched for the bra clasp. However, you stopped them and placed them back on your hips.

“Not so fast,” you whispered against his lips.

Before he could protest, you kissed him again, now pushing him all the way back to lay down on the bed. Hovering above him, you started pulling up his shirt, which he quickly got rid of for you. You chuckled. Maybe you weren’t the only one who had missed this.

Now that you had free access to his torso, you began to place soft, wet kisses on his neck, slowly moving down to his chest and stomach, painfully taking your time.

You could feel Fred’s breathing get deeper and deeper as you kissed his abs, working your way down to his pants. Once there, you stopped the kisses for a brief moment, so you could focus on getting rid of that piece of fabric. Again, Fred quickly helped you out until you were both just in your underwear.

The sight sent goosebumps through your body and you inevitably bit your lower lip. He was already so hard, you felt the anticipation building up inside you.

You decided to torture him for a little bit – just a little bit – and carried on with the kisses, not taking off his underwear quite yet. However, Fred’s impatience was growing and he didn’t think he would manage to wait for too long. His hand found your hair and he started stroking it, running his fingers through it, a disguised way to guide your head to where he needed you the most. You realized his intentions, but you did not stop him. You let him take you where he wanted and soon your lips found his still covered length.

“Shit, Y/N.”

You smirked.

Slowly, you started pulling down the last piece of clothing until you completely freed him. He was so beautiful. You still had a silly smile on your face as you ran your tongue all the way up from the base to the tip, where you placed a gentle kiss. Fred’s soft moan reached your ears, a beautiful sound that made you even more wet.

You took him in your mouth and started sucking the tip in a slow, teasing pace, while your hand loosely stroked him. You didn’t want him to cum yet. You wanted him to last. And you were going to make him last.

Fred’s hand never left your hair, and he began to slightly pull it, asking for more. He needed more.

“Y/N,” he moaned. “Y/N, please.”

You ignored him and kept going in that insanely slow pace, taking your time. What was the hurry?

You heard a low groan, and felt him move his hips against you. You stopped.

“Behave yourself, Weasley.”

“Baby… Please.”

You smirked again, giving him one last stroke, and you let go of him.

Fred looked at you in a way you hadn’t seen in a while. His eyes were dark, full of pure lust. But also desperation and discontent with the sudden lack of touch.

You crawled on the bed until your face was right above his, and you kissed him. It was a deep, passionate, hurried kiss between two people who were eager for each other. This time, you didn’t stop Fred’s hands from going up your back and unclasping your bra. He took it off and you quickly felt his left hand on your right breast, squeezing it. His right hand, however, was going up and down your side, sending shivers through your bare skin. He rested it on your waist for a little bit before going down to your ass and squeezing it tightly. You moaned against his lips, your own impatience growing.

You only stopped the kiss to get rid of your panties, the last piece of fabric separating you from him.

Fred watched as you got off of him and started to pull it down your smooth legs. He could feel his cock throbbing at the sight of your completely naked body. You were breathtakingly, heart-racingly beautiful. He loved the lingerie, he really did, but he loved your body a thousand times more. And he would never get tired of looking at it.

When you straddled him again, skin to skin now, he thought he would cum right then and there. You smiled at him, that beautiful smile that never changed, and kissed him one more time. Fred placed his hands on your waist, squeezing it gently, as if to encourage you. Not wasting another second, you guided his tip to your entrance and slowly sank down on him, allowing him to get all the way inside you, quite easily given how wet you were.

“Oh fuck, baby,” he moaned.

Letting out your own whimpers, you placed your hands on his chest and started riding him, still slowly, still teasingly. Fred’s moans soon turned into groans, complaints. He was getting tired of the teasing, he was already on edge. He couldn’t take it anymore. With a swift move, Fred shifted the both of you so now he was on top. He started thrusting into you, quite roughly, earning a loud approving moan from you.

“Fred,” you gasped, digging your nails into his shoulders.

He kept going, pounding harder and harder, moaning as he did so.

You started kissing his neck, biting, sucking, anything that would leave a mark.

“Yes, baby,” you cried out as he thrusted even deeper.

The bed was making a discreet creaking sound that you weren’t sure if the people in the other rooms could hear. You hoped not, but honestly? Right now you didn’t care. The sound of Fred’s heavy breaths, moans, groans and whimpers were all you were paying attention to. Beautiful sounds that had the power to shut down anything else in your mind.

The rhythm he had created was sending you to heaven with every motion. His lips soon found your own again and he kissed you as if he hadn’t done it just minutes before.

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m close.”

“Me too.”

As you felt your body tense, Fred came inside you with a low groan, slowing down just a tad bit. He kept thrusting, however, knowing you were about to reach your climax too. And not long after him, you felt a wave of pleasure wash over you, and your body relaxed completely.

Both of you were panting against each other’s neck, your arms still loosely around his shoulders as he slowly pulled out and collapsed on top of you.

Hugging him more tightly, you felt Fred leave small kisses on your neck, and you closed your eyes, enjoying the extra-tingly sensation. You started to run your fingernails up and down his back, the other hand caressing his hair.

If you concentrated hard enough, you could hear the waves crashing on the beach, the giggling of children playing down there, and the muffled music coming from the muggle restaurant. You felt so at ease.

After a long moment of peaceful, comforting silence, Fred looked up and smiled. “I love you so much.”

You smiled back. “I love you too.”

Not bad for round one.

********

[gukyi]

the heiress and the hotelier | ksj

summary: when you share a kiss with a mysterious but gorgeous stranger on the night of your unwanted, lavish masquerade birthday party, the last thing you expect is for him to vanish at midnight on the dot. but when, as punishment for always arguing with him, your father assigns you to oversee the company’s newest resort hotel, you begin to realize that the handsome stranger may be closer than you think.

{cinderella!au, heiress reader!au, hotelier seokjin!au}

pairing: kim seokjin x female reader genre: fluff, comedy word count: 21k warnings: alcohol consumption (nothing major), workaholic characters, face blindness, idiots to lovers a/n: hello and welcome to guyi is a nonstop writer!! that’s the fuck right !!!! thank you so much to @aurawatercolor​ for commissioning me for this (again!) and for being genuinely wonderful. happy birthday! oh--and i’ll be on a socially-distanced vacation this upcoming week, so i’ll be a little more inactive than usual, but here’s this fic to keep you occupied while i’m gone!

Your birthdays have never belonged to you.

Not when you were little, when your mother was always the most excited for you to open your presents and host your birthday party. Not when you were older, and your parents started using your age as a reason for you to start learning the inner workings of the family business under the understanding that you would one day inherit it. And certainly not when you’re an adult, when all your birthdays ever remind you of are the years gone by, blowing past you like dandelion wisps, glimpses of memories that are too nimble to catch between your fingertips. 

When people say that time goes by faster as you get older, they aren’t saying it because your life is getting exponentially more interesting with each day that passes. They aren’t saying it because you’re having more fun or doing more things, things that distract you to the point of looking out your window and realizing that it’s dark outside. 

They say it because the more years that you have lived, the more years you have to remember. And when you have to recall something as overwhelming as your life, your brain makes shortcuts. The days, weeks, and months blur together, leaving behind snippets from events that your memory deems worthy, events that have become less and less frequent with time. You can’t remember the last major celebration you had. Perhaps your university graduation?

The thing about birthdays is that you know that there will always be one next year. So why bother with celebrating now?

You would give anything to have everyone pretend that your birthday is just a normal day. 

Unfortunately for you, you are the only one in your family who seems to have adopted this mindset. 

Heaving out a sigh, you look at yourself in the mirror, reflection bathed in the white light of the bathroom, stark and unforgiving. In the merciless glow of the bathroom, you barely recognize yourself. Gone are the deep eye bags that you’ve so dearly acquainted yourself with, tired eyes covered with contacts to bring back the shimmer that has long been lost. You gaze into your eyes and they don’t even feel like they’re yours anymore. 

In your hand sits the masquerade mask you had ripped off the moment you entered the bathroom, having been desperate to take it off from the minute you arrived at the hotel. The feathers brush against your skin, soft and black, a custom-made accessory designed to match your gown, an ink black floor-length piece with onyx gems that sparkle silver in the light. 

Hoseok was going for a black swan theme—said that it would match your personality perfectly. You’re not exactly sure what he meant by that. 

Frantically, like there is a timer ticking down inside of you that you cannot turn off, you pull the mask back on, adjusting it over your eyes until it sits just right, resting atop the bridge of your nose. Hiding behind it, you can almost deceive yourself into thinking, if only for this one night, you are someone else. 

The door swings open next to you, revealing a guest that you don’t recognize, someone on the list of hundreds that your mother invited, none of whom you know very well and could certainly not identify beneath a masquerade mask. She smiles in that polite, awkward way as she rushes into a stall, deep maroon train trailing behind her, leaving you stuck between a rock and a hard place, having no desire to go back out into the fray but also not wanting to stay in the bathroom and listen to other people do their business. 

Thank God she didn’t recognize you. Your mother was insistent that you be recognized as the guest of honor despite the whole point of a masquerade party being the inability to correctly identify people, so you might as well be walking around in a t-shirt with your face on it. At least the mask is doing something. 

You blink at yourself, hoping that maybe if you close your eyes enough, when you open them you’ll be someone else. When that doesn’t seem to work, you take a breath and fix your mask one last time before heading back into the ballroom. 

Immediately, amongst the crowd of people, all of whom are only here to elevate their own statuses by being associated with an event hosted by your family, you spot the back of Jungkook’s head, deep brunette tufts of hair deftly styled by a whole team of people, a slicked back, Phantom of the Opera style. He’s got on a tuxedo and mask to match, but even with that on you could recognize him in your sleep. He is your brother, after all. 

He’s talking animatedly with the pianist, an old mutual friend of your family’s named Yoongi, who isn’t wearing a mask and is thus immediately identifiable. Not to mention the fact that your family has known his since before you learned to walk. As you get closer to them, you notice that his maskless-ness is because Jungkook’s got it snatched up in between his fingers, dangling it in front of Yoongi like the taunting claw of a rigged toy machine. You decide not to bother them. He’s always been closer with Jungkook, anyway.

You really wish your mother better understood what a masquerade-themed party meant. You can’t get more than three steps in before being stopped by someone you can hardly recognize, all smiles for the birthday girl. They wish you a happy birthday and give you a lifeless compliment that goes in one ear and out the other before going on their way, positively thrilled that they’ve been invited to an event as grand as this and determined to make the most of it. 

Eventually, after far too many interruptions, you make it to the catering table, helping yourself to a piece of the five-tiered, golden-iced cake your parents had ordered. At least they got your favorite flavor right—chocolate and vanilla swirl. You wait happily beside the rest of the catered food as you eat, hoping that you are just out of reach enough to go unnoticed. The least your birthday party guests could do is leave you alone. 

“Y/N!”

Never mind. 

You look up to the source of the sound and find only your father approaching, all dressed up in a crisp suit from the same tailors that made Jungkook’s. He isn’t wearing a mask and apparently doesn’t need one, since it is your birthday and not his. Not a good enough excuse, in your opinion. 

“Dad,” you say with a smile, wiping away the icing you feel sitting just off the corner of your lips. 

“Enjoying yourself?” He asks heartily, all smiles because he’s always felt rather at home surrounded by this sort of grandeur, almost as much as your mother. No wonder the two of them get along so well. 

“The cake is nice,” you dodge the question. 

“Ah, glad you like it,” he says, helping himself to his own piece. “We were going to get red velvet but then Jungkook reminded us your favorite flavor was the swirly one,” he laughs to himself, like it’s funny that they almost got it wrong. “Had to call the bakery last minute and change it.”

You purse your lips together in a tense smile, fork picking at the crumbs left on your plate. 

“Have you been chatting with your friends?” He asks. 

“Here and there,” you respond. Nobody here, except perhaps Jungkook and Yoongi, would be people you considered friends. Acquaintances at best. And besides, it’s not like you can even identify half of the attendees anyway. “You?” You always do much better when the topic of conversation is not your social life. 

“Ah, yes, of course, you know me,” he jokes, always the aristocrat. “I was just speaking with Mr. Oh about that corporate investment deal that I had been arranging with him.”

“Dad,” you say, exasperated, “You know that I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Y/N,” he says, already beginning to get frustrated. You and him have shared this conversation countless times already. “You aren’t the final decision maker. You know that.”

“Yes, but you value my input, don’t you?” You challenge. He nods tensely. “So listen to me. I don’t think this deal will be good for us. Even though the Oh’s have more money in their investments, they aren’t transparent with it. If you make this deal you won’t know where our money is going.”

“Nonsense,” your father rebukes. “Mr. Oh and I have known each other for years. I trust him. You’re just saying this because you don’t like their son.”

“Sehun has nothing to do with this,” you argue, even if it is true. Your mother had set you up on a blind date with him a couple of years ago and from the moment he walked through the door, you knew it would go south. He’s got the same conceited attitude his father has. “I don’t think it’s a wise business decision.”

“You mustn’t let personal grievances get in the way of your work and you know that,” your father commands sternly, eyebrows furrowed as he looks at you. “What will you do when you are the CEO of Jeon Group? Are you going to let pettiness get in the way of major advancements for the company?”

“No!” You insist, though you are far too gone for your father to believe you. 

“This deal is happening and that’s final, Y/N,” your father declares harshly, eyes narrowed at you. 

“But, Dad—”

“I don’t want to hear another word from you about this,” he directs. “You should know better than to argue with me about this sort of thing. Especially here. Your mother worked very hard on putting this party on for you, and you should be grateful.”

You exhale, incensed. “I am, Dad, but the business means more to me than—”

“Stop. You can’t change my mind.” Your father sets his finished plate down on a cart an arm’s length away, piled high with discarded dishes, glasses and utensils. “Go talk with your friends instead.” You frown at him, nose scrunched up in contempt. He gestures you away from him. “Go.”

Sighing, you wipe away the sweat that has gathered along your temples and go back out into the center of the ballroom, watching begrudgingly as your father steers you from him, having deemed your conversation over even if you weren’t finished talking. It’s obvious that there’s no more getting through to him. Unless all of the Ohs are suddenly arrested for embezzling funds or mail fraud, that deal is happening.

Standing in the middle of the room, you turn around once and you’re immediately lost amongst all of the guests, surrounded by people everywhere you look. You turn back to where your father was standing but he’s vanished, and when you turn the other way, Jungkook has disappeared from beside the grand piano as well. It feels like you’re outnumbered, like you’re trapped in a maze of people with no end in sight, like one wrong move and suddenly they will all turn to look at you, stare you down like camera lenses, relentless flashes of light. Nobody to talk to, nowhere to run. 

You’re stuck. 

Now that you think about it, you sort of always have been. 

The room gets blurrier.

“Hey, are you alright?” A voice asks. 

You feel like you spin around several times before your eyes focus in on the man it belongs to. 

“Here, come on, let’s get out of here.”

Your feet move against your mind’s better judgement, the man ushering you away from the center of the room and out of the crowd. You barely notice the direction he’s taking you in until you feel the cool late night air blow past you, tickling your skin and sending shivers down your spine. 

It’s the balcony.

The glass door shuts behind the two of you, sending a stream of wind against your back as it effectively removes all of the background noise of the party, containing it within the ballroom, leaving the both of you shrouded in the stars’ silence. 

Out here, you have a perfect view of the city. Even though it’s nearing midnight, the lights are still on, coating the town in a twinkling glow, yellow lights flickering on and off, as if someone were looking at the universe from far beyond it. Some parts of the city go to sleep when the sun sets. Others are just waking up. 

Next to you, the man removes his suit jacket and drops it ceremoniously on the floor at his feet, arms resting on the balcony’s railing as he gazes out into the distance. As you look out into the same deep navy sky, it’s almost as if the rest of the night has faded away. You don’t know who he is and you can only hope that he doesn’t know you either, hope that he has rescued you from the crowd to talk you down rather than talk you up. But you don’t miss the way he hasn’t said a word to you since you stepped foot outside, hasn’t dared to initiate contact just in case you were looking for a respite from all of it. 

At this angle, you can turn your head just enough to get a good look at him, at the way half of his face is enveloped in shadow while the other half is letting the moonlight do all of the talking. From here, the light from the full moon is faint, a barely-there silver glow, but it casts him in just enough light to make him seem as though he belongs in a dream. Like he isn’t even real. It highlights the sharpness of his jaw, the peaks of his cheekbones, his round button nose. But what it really makes gleam are his eyes, almost pitch black in the night. They reflect the sky like nothing else, glimmers of faint starlight in an ocean of ink.

Quite frankly, you wouldn’t mind staying like this for the rest of the night. 

“Thank you.” You breathe out the words and immediately feel his gaze jerk sharply towards you. “For getting me out of there.”

“Of course,” he says, and oh, goodness, his voice is thick and warm and comforting, like a fireplace on a cool night, like a blanket after a nightmare. “You just seemed like you needed a break.”

“You could say that,” you say, shrugging to yourself. You could use more than a break. A general pause on life is something you certainly wouldn’t object to—if only it was that easy. But hey, you take what is given to you and never miss an opportunity if you can help it. There’s a lot that you can (and do) complain about but even more than you should be grateful for. Your father was right. This party took a lot of planning on your mother’s part and you spent half of it in the bathroom wishing you were anywhere but here.

“A lot on your plate?” He asks with a smile, a real one, one that isn’t forced like everybody else. Almost like he’s smiling because he’s actually enjoying himself. 

“I feel like it’s endless,” you say, keeping it vague because, as it stands, this gorgeous man does not know who you are, and you would like to keep it that way.

“As is all of life,” he says sagely, almost as if it’s a reminder to himself as well. You wonder what he must have on his mind. You wonder if it’s worth sharing your life with a stranger. “It looked like you had a lot on your mind back in there.” He gestures weakly back towards the door. 

“I have a lot on my mind no matter where I am,” you correct, and you try to make it sound funny but instead it just comes out sounding sad. Normally you wouldn’t be cracking jokes at your expense in front of someone whose name you don’t even know, but you had a couple of drinks tonight and the taste is still fresh on your tongue, sitting alongside all of the words you want to say but don’t know how to. 

The man leaves it at that, not wanting to push any further, but you aren’t finished yet. Someone might as well know how you feel, since you bottle it up around everyone else. 

“Do you ever wish that you could just… I don’t know. Disappear?” You turn to look at him, heaving out a sigh. He doesn’t say anything, simply gazes back at you, like he’s willing you to carry on. It, in a way, worries you. “Ugh. I feel ridiculous saying it out loud.”

There’s a tense, pregnant pause between the two of you. It makes you feel like talking was a mistake. 

“It’s not ridiculous.” It almost sounds like the words are coming from someone else. Like this whole thing is just a figment of your imagination, created by your mind to keep you company because there’s no one else to turn to. 

He’s staring out over the balcony now, waiting for you to continue. 

“I don’t know,” you say, feeling utterly idiotic, like a fish out of water. “Sometimes I just wish that I could go somewhere else and be someone else and not have to worry about all of the things in my life. Things like my family, and my work. There are so many things that people expect of me. All the time. It feels like I’m living for them instead of myself.”

He nods along, holding back to see if you have anything else to say. You must sound like such an ungrateful little rich girl, you think to yourself. Complaining about this fabulous party and incredible life that you live, a life filled with wealth and grandeur and power, a life that most people dream of having. What will he think of you?

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself. “I probably sound like such a spoiled brat.”

“You don’t,” he immediately assures you, taking a step to his right and closing the gap between you two. “It doesn’t sound like that at all.”

“Then what does it sound like?” You muse to yourself, forcing a laugh. 

“It sounds like you have a lot that you feel like you owe to other people,” he says organically. “You know, like you feel like you have to do all of these things because you can’t let other people down. I get it. I know that everyone nowadays is all, ‘You shouldn’t give a shit about what other people think of you, just do whatever you want,’ but it’s hard not to think about what other people think of you. And what other people expect from you. Letting them down sucks.”

You chuckle. Sounds about right. You may not be completely satisfied with your life right now but that doesn’t mean you’re going to fling your responsibilities onto the shoulders’ of other people. Your father works hard, your mother works hard, your brother works hard. The least you could do for them is offer up the same diligence.

“You’re quite the smooth talker,” you joke, looking him up and down and nodding your approval. He’s definitely figured you out, at least. 

“I’m just a people person,” the man admits. “I like talking with people.”

“And here I was, thinking that I’d be confessing my secrets to a brick wall,” you say, making him crack a smile, another real one. You like the look of them. A part of you wants to do it more often. 

“Secrets, huh?” He asks, sliding another inch closer, daringly so, teetering on the edge of territory that you haven’t touched in years. “I like the sound of that. Got any more for me?”

You smirk up at him, a grin playing on your lips. “Only if you have one for me in return. No freebies.”

He laughs, loud and clear, the sound ringing out in the nighttime air. “Alright,” he says, obliging. He leans in close, lips hovering above your ear. “I think you’re gorgeous.”

You’ve been listening to compliments all night but this one makes the heat rush to your cheeks like nothing else, a fire set alight in your veins. 

“That’s a secret, is it?” You ask, suddenly feeling shy, looking all around you just so you don’t have to look him in his eyes and feel your legs turn to jelly. 

“Not anymore,” he reminds you. “What about you? Anything else to share with me?” He’s standing dangerously close to you now, barely half a foot of space between your bodies as he leans into you, hands hovering above your waist. 

Slowly he begins to tilt his head towards you, and while you’ve never been one for dramatics, you have to admit that you haven’t felt this way since your schoolgirl crush days back when you were a teenager, giddy and electric and desperately craving more. 

You watch as his lips flutter above yours, feel transparent underneath his steel gaze, and you say, “I think you’re gorgeous, too.”

The fireworks thing had always been over the top for you. Like it was impossible for a kiss to feel that explosive to anyone, setting you alight over and over and over again. But his lips pressed against yours come pretty damn close. It makes your whole body go weak, like you can barely hold yourself up, hands clutching onto his sleeves just to make sure you don’t go topping off the balcony. He kisses you and you swear that you would never do this sort of thing normally—go about your romantic interests like a professional, a couple of dates and then perhaps a kiss on your doorstep—but goddamn, it feels like you might just give up everything for him. It feels like there are sparks running all across your skin, sending jolts of life into your heart. It feels like he is someone you are going to miss.

It lasts too long and ends too quickly all at once. You distantly hear the party celebrate the clock striking twelve indoors, cheers and screams and shouts as people rally themselves to continue long after the mark of a new day, and feel him pull away from you at the very same instant. Shamelessly, you instinctively reach up to try and meet his lips again, refusing to believe it’s over, but already he’s separating himself from you. 

“Hey, what’s wrong—?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing, I promise,” the man says, the words barely registering in your kiss-drunk haze. He scoops up his jacket from the floor and immediately begins to head back inside. “I just have to go, really. It’s nothing.”

You freeze, mouth agape. “Wait, I don’t even know your—”

“It was really nice meeting you, I hope that we can see each other again!” He pulls open the door with one final grin, one beautiful, brilliant smile, and then suddenly, he’s gone. 

You feel the rush of wind blow against your skin, holding you hostage on the balcony as you stare at the closed door, almost like he had never been here at all. 

It wasn’t a dream. It couldn’t have been. He was real, and he was here, and then he was right in front of you, his hands were on your waist, his lips were on your lips. And still, it’s almost as if it never even happened. 

You blink back at the door, trying to convince yourself that you are still awake, that you haven’t gone mad with loneliness, when you feel yourself step on something. 

It’s his mask. A plain, black one with a couple of decorative touches. The string meant to secure it to his face is broken, having probably snapped in half in his rush to leave, leaving it as the only reminder that you didn’t dream up the entire ordeal to begin with. 

You reach down to pick it up, letting it rest between your fingertips, and you laugh. Here you are, having fallen for a man whose name you don’t know and whom you don’t think you’ll ever see again, the only piece left you have of him being a broken, forgotten masquerade mask. Like the worst rendition of Cinderella ever. 

Leaning back over the balcony, you sigh, resigning yourself to the fact that even if tonight was more eventful than you thought it would be, you will have to get up tomorrow morning and go to work, just the same. 

And you suppose that that really is what the man was talking about when he said life was endless. 

It’s not that it has no end. It’s just that it doesn’t really feel like you’re ever beginning something new. 

You wake up in a cold sweat and are convinced you dreamt of the whole thing until you see the mask sitting on your chest of drawers, grounding you back to reality. 

You wonder what it is about him, about last night, that so easily deceives you into thinking it never happened. Perhaps it was the time, or the alcohol on your tongue, or how storybook the whole thing felt, from the talking to the kissing to the disappearing into the night. Or perhaps it was the fact that you can’t remember the last time someone made you feel the way that he made you feel, can’t remember the last time someone kissed you like he did. Like your brain was convinced it would just never happen. 

At least you know that there’s still a little hope for you.

A part of you almost thinks that, for the rest of time, you won’t be able to think of anything but the mystery man and his excellent kissing skills. Even the morning after, the tingling feeling on your lips still lingers like lint on a blazer, like a scar that won’t fade. It feels like it won’t ever go away, dancing along your lips every time you look in a mirror. You hardly remember anything else about that night besides him, besides talking to him, besides his lips on yours. 

You continue to live in this post-kiss bliss for another ten minutes as you help yourself to breakfast and hum a mindless tune. Then your phone lights up. 

“Hey, Dad!” You say cheerfully, practically bouncing on your feet. 

“Y/N,” he says gruffly. “You haven’t left for work yet, have you?”

“Nope,” you say, stuffing a spoonful of Honey Nut Cheerios into your mouth. “Why? Do you need me to bring something?”

“Actually, Y/N, you won’t be coming to the office today.” His tone is stern and sharp, no-nonsense. The same way he speaks to interns who have fucked up. 

Oh, no. 

“What do you mean?” You ask, trying to keep your tone positive even though you already know you’re toast. 

“I’m assigning you to watch over the new resort hotel at the edge of the city.” Your father has never been known to beat around the bush. 

“What?” You gasp out, shocked. “Dad, you know that I—”

“You wanted more independence and more input in decision-making, didn’t you?” He says pointedly, a reminder of last night.

“Yes, but I—”

“Good,” he declares. “This resort is going to be your responsibility and I want to see that you are doing well with the tasks at hand.”

“Dad, that sounds good, but you know I much prefer more corporate responsibilities—”

“And at this resort, you will have that,” he informs you. “It’s high time you take on your own tasks instead of doing the ones that I hand down to you. I expect to see this resort flourish.” You don’t understand his logic. Isn’t he literally handing you an entire resort to oversee? A brand new one, too?

“But wouldn’t you rather manage such a new hotel? What if it starts to encounter deficits?” You plead, a final attempt to get him to take your name off of this project so you can go back to doing what you’re used to instead of being flung a brand new resort you definitely aren’t keen on overseeing. 

“Then I should hope to see you solve them quickly,” he clips, effectively dissolving any hope you had that he would change his mind. Normally, you love your father’s typical hands-off approach when it comes to business, usually because it allows you to gain working experience without him carrying you every step of the way, but right now, you just wish he was more of a selfish businessman. For once, it would actually work out quite well for you. 

“Dad—”

“I’ll be checking in.”

He hangs up. 

Standing in the middle of your kitchen, you huff, nose scrunched up and eyebrows furrow as you try to think your way out of this. Getting through to your father is impossible, getting through to your mother, even more so. She’s always preferred to stick to philanthropy, anyway, having zero interest in what you and your father do. You scowl to yourself, already beginning to run out of options. Is your list really that short? Who else in your family could help?

Suddenly, you smack your head, shocked at how forgetful you’ve been. You grab your phone from where it sits on the counter and dial his number. 

“Y/N?” Jungkook asks from the other end, voice still groggy. At least he gets to sleep in. 

“Hey, Jungkook,” you say, sighing out your hello to sound more casual. 

“What’s up?” He asks in between yawns. 

“Listen, Dad just assigned me to oversee that new resort hotel on the beach just outside of town,” you say economically. You’ve always gotten straight to the point with your brother. It’s the only reason the two of you aren’t constantly at each other’s necks anymore. 

“Really? That’s awesome!” Jungkook says excitedly, voice jumping up half an octave. 

“I mean…” You begin, because it’s really… not.

“This probably means that Dad’s going to retire soon, don’t you think? Since he’s giving you such a big responsibility, right?” Jungkook asks, a suggestion that nearly sends you into a coughing fit at the mere thought of it. Retirement?

“You think so?” You ask, a little terrified. 

“I don’t know,” Jungkook says, and you can hear his nonchalant shrug through the phone. “Maybe. He has been talking a lot recently about what’s going to happen when you take over the company.”

“Don’t you want that same responsibility, though?” Jungkook has never been treated as a business equal the same way you have, despite having the same expensive education as you and being much better with people. You’ve always wondered if that’s bothered him. 

“Not really,” Jungkook tells you, and you can hear the familiar log-in sound of his computer in the background. “I mean, I’ve always known you were going to inherit the company. This sort of thing just makes sense to me.”

You frown to yourself. “You don’t want to be involved with the business at all?”

“No, it’s not like that,” Jungkook says with a sigh, voice still groggy. “I’m happy that I’m getting the work experience and everything. But it’s just never something I’ve seen as part of my future.”

Mostly because it’s always been yours. 

The fact of the matter is that Jungkook, even if he is younger, and a little more rambunctious, and a little bit more impulsive, has always been the better candidate to take over the family business. He excels at task-driven jobs and has charmed the pants off of everyone he’s ever met, from Yoongi to your florist to the nice woman at the customer service counter at your local grocery store. He’s a quick decision-maker and never second-guesses himself. He also has zero problems with his love life and potential partners, something that your parents are desperate for you to figure out. He’s perfect for the position. 

So why are you the heir?

“What, are you just going to livestream video games for a living, then?” You ask snarkily, already knowing that he’s sat at his desk, ready for another match. 

“Probably. I could probably double the family’s fortune, you know,” he says, and he’s right. What he does is equally as profitable as what you do, and he gets bonus points because it’s something that he genuinely enjoys. 

“You better get started then, gamer boy,” you say, hearing his bubbly laugh echo through the phone before you hang up. 

Jungkook would take over the resort hotel management if you asked, and you know it. He’s got the experience and the expertise to do it flawlessly, no questions asked. But he won’t, because you won’t ask that of him. Because even if you don’t want to do it, it is better you than him. Someone in this family deserves to do what they love for a living. And nobody deserves that more than him. 

The Honey Nut Cheerios slosh around in the milk in the bowl in front of you. You aren’t very hungry anymore. 

Your father has always had an eye for design, a trait he never seemed to pass on to you. It’s no wonder why he’s the one the architectures and interior decorators run everything by while you manage the finances. It’s something your mother always says she loves about him. So, even if you are assigned to oversee a resort hotel that you have zero interest in whatsoever, at least it looks nice. 

“Whoa, this place is fancy,” Hoseok says, gasping as the two of you step out of the car beneath the golden awning that covers the hotel entrance. There are little lights lining the structure, something to bathe the canopy in a sparkling glow when the sun says goodbye for the day, light it up like stars in the night sky. 

“You’ve been to my house, this is nothing,” you say with a shrug, making him laugh as the doors open for you, carpet plush and hardly touched. From what you read in the file your father sent you, this place hasn’t been open for more than two weeks. 

It looks like it’s barely been occupied. 

The security guard, a gruff, stout man, nods a hello to you as you enter. 

“Uh, your house doesn’t have security guards,” Hoseok whispers into your ear as you pass him, pointing rather conspicuously to the man behind you. “Your dad really went all out on this one.”

You huff, gritting your teeth. Good thing it’s not an eyesore, otherwise you don’t think you’d last a week here. “Well, he’s always loved the beach.” 

“Why does that not surprise me,” Hoseok lilts, whistling as he gazes away from you, guilty. 

You smack him with the back of your hand in the middle of his torso. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he says, backing off even though he knows he’s the only person (well, besides Jungkook) who can get away with saying that sort of thing in front of you. “You two have always been polar opposites, I’m just saying.”

“Yeah, well, say it in your head,” you sulk, hitting him again so that he straightens up. You both have a duty to make a good first impression, though Hoseok’s red suit is doing half of the work for him. 

As you enter, all of the staff behind the desk scramble to get to their positions, hands together neatly in front of them as you peer over your wire-rimmed glasses to get a good look at the place. It’s clean, elegant, with touches of luxury here and there, a golden coffee table, an accent along the lining of the walls. It smells faintly of lemon and mostly of the ocean, a scent you are going to have to get used to. Everything seems to be in order. 

You stroll up the front desk, eyeing everything closely. Behind it, the three employees currently on front-desk duty wait patiently for you to speak. Their names are written in capital letters on gold-plated tags, pinned to the pockets of their blazers. You nod as you memorize their names. Irene, Seohyun, and Seokjin. 

Seokjin looks positively wide-eyed, flabbergasted to be seeing you, to be standing in front of you. There’s this faint sort of recognition on his face, like he’s just realized something life-altering, and he’s doing a rather poor job of hiding it. Perhaps he’s just starstruck.

“Well, we might as well get the introductions over with,” you declare, clapping your hands together. The sound makes the three of them jump. “If you didn’t know, I’m Y/N, and I’ll be overseeing this hotel for the foreseeable future. So let’s get along well together. For all of our sakes.”

They nod, polite smiles on their faces. 

“Which one of you is the hotelier?” You ask, looking between the three of them. Your father had written it down in that file somewhere but quite frankly, you were so exasperated that you had been assigned the hotel that you hadn’t really looked it over properly. 

“That would be me,” the man, Seokjin, says with a tense, small little grin, nodding his head when you turn to face him. He looks strikingly familiar, this sort of picturesque nostalgia that you can’t quite place, angles sharp in the bright light of the hotel. You wonder where you’ve seen it before. Possibly in some magazine or at an event. He certainly is worthy of being photographed. 

“Excellent,” you declare happily. “Then you’re on my staff, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I just received word about that last night,” he affirms. 

“Wonderful,” you say, fingers tapping against the granite countertops. “I can tell that this will all go smoothly, so long as we all make sure to stay on task. Sounds good?”

“Of course, Miss Jeon,” Seokjin says. 

“Please, call me Y/N. I do hate formalities,” you request. “So, shall we get started? I trust that you all know exactly what you’re doing. But I would like to receive a few updates here and there about the goings-on here. Mostly, I would like all total daily income numbers to be faxed to my office, transcripts of all of the customer service requests, and an updated menu. The pizza is far too cheap and the lobster just as expensive. How’s that for a starting list?”

“Would you like those numbers in an Excel sheet or graphed?” Irene asks, eyebrows raised. 

“Both,” you answer. She and Seohyun get right to work, leaving you feeling confident that this won’t be a complete train wreck. “Seokjin, you are with me.” You gesture for him to come out from behind the desk, and begin to walk around the lobby of the hotel, hoping to put some distance between you two and the other employees. He stays a solid two feet behind you the entire time, taking quick, short steps so he doesn’t dare start to catch up. 

“How can I help, Miss Jeon?” He asks, eyes wide.

You smile, shaking your head. “I told you that Y/N is fine. In any case, since you are the hotelier, I will need a little more from you.” He nods. “First, I need a summary of all expenses and income since you opened, preferably in Excel and formatted cleanly. I’ll also need a list of all of the employees, their respective positions, and their salaries. It would be great if we could begin to eliminate the part-time slots and allow the employees to become full-time so that they receive the same benefits as you and I. I’ll also need information on their schedules.” 

You notice he isn’t writing any of this down, simply bobbing his head as you lift off everything you want and a few things that you’re throwing in just so you don’t have to do them. 

“I assume that you don’t have constant contact with my father, but I don’t mind being the messenger in regards to hotel infrastructure and design. Any and all malfunctions should also be reported to me. It would also be great if we could maybe lose the curtains in the lobby. I think they close up the room. But, your choice.” You narrow your eyes, looking around to see if there’s anything else that needs urgent attention, when you see Hoseok already beginning to hunt through the concessions room, picking up bags of different themed Jelly Belly. “I think that should be enough for now. Update me whenever possible, please.”

“You got it,” Seokjin says, heading back to the desk as quickly as he had walked away from it, concentration washing over his features. It does, at least, bring you comfort that nobody seems particularly incompetent. 

Behind you, you can hear Hoseok muttering a few things at the front desk, most likely having to do with you and your attitude. But you don’t think it’s that big of a deal. You’ve always been work-oriented. It’s always been your biggest focus. Lingering in the lobby, you gaze out the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out at the entrance, the slick, newly-paved asphalt, the tropical flowers that surround it. You have always preferred a city to a beach, but at least the time might pass quicker here with people who know how to do their jobs.

Perhaps this might not be so bad after all. 

Then, your phone vibrates in your pants pocket. 

“Mom,” you greet, surprised that she’s calling you during work. “Hey, how are you?”

“Wonderful!” She shrieks, always the energizer. “Your father told me all about how he assigned you to oversee that new resort. I’m so proud of you!”

“Thanks,” you respond, lifeless. 

“You know, you have a lot of responsibility now,” she reminds you, as if you had already forgotten how much work goes into supervising something like this. “Directing a hotel and its staff is a big deal. I don’t want you to think that you can just slack off.”

“Mom, I’m not going to slack off,” you explain. “You know I care about this stuff, just like Dad.”

“I know, I know, I’m just making sure. We want to make sure the company is in good hands when your father retires. He doesn’t have too many years left, you know.”

“Well, whenever he’s ready, I’ll be too,” you assure her, a promise you have vowed to uphold, no matter what becomes of you or your social life. 

“Good.” The conversation ends there. Or, more takes a quick pause, which can only mean one thing. Your mother has something else she needs to tell you. “Speaking of seeing you off…”

“Yes—?”

“Your father and I both think it’s high time you start to settle down with someone. You know we don’t want to see you end up all alone,” she begins, the same argument that you’ve had with your parents time and time again. 

“Mom, you know that I’m not really interested in going out and finding people right now.” Or ever. 

“Yes,” she begins, sucking in her breath between her teeth. Oh, goodness, what’s she going to say now? “But luckily, you don’t have to. You’re so busy, we can’t expect you to just drop everything. So we did.”

“You what?”

“Your father and I have set you up on some dates—just a couple!—with some of his associates’ sons,” she explains, but you are already livid. “We just think that you should be taking more time to see—”

“See what?” You demand. “See his friends’ bratty sons tell me how much money they make? See their cars and their clothes and their stupid Italian leather shoes? See them tell me how I work too hard and that I should just stay at home while they go out and change the world? No thank you.” You can’t name a thing in this world less appealing. Except perhaps supervising a resort hotel against your will. But even that’s better, because the men here actually know what they’re doing.

“Honey, you just aren’t giving them the opportunity—”

“Mom, they don’t deserve an opportunity. I don’t need to be dating people right now. At all!” You exclaim. “Like you said, I’m busy. If Dad is going to retire soon then I need to be ready for it. I have other priorities.”

“Your happiness is our priority,” your mother insists, convinced she’s doing you a good deed by setting you up on blind dates with rich men who care more about their watches and Italian leather shoes than they would a woman. 

“Working makes me happy,” you say between gritted teeth. “I’m perfectly happy as I am.”

“Will you please just give them a try, honey? You never know,” she pleads, desperate to get you to agree with something.

“Fine,” you say, caving in just to get her to stop talking about it. “But don’t expect anything out of it.”

“Yay! That’s all I wanted to hear.” You can hear her relief through the phone. 

“Anything else?” You ask, rubbing at your temples, wishing desperately for this day to be over so you can just go home and take a nice, hot bath, and dream about the mystery man in his black masquerade mask. You’re not interested in dating, sure, but for him, you think you'd make an exception. If only you knew who he was. 

“That’s it. Love you, honey, congratulations on the new resort!” She hangs up in that same voice that she started with, bubbly and animated, and the moment you hear the line go dead, you throw your dignity to the dogs and groan to yourself. 

“God almighty,” you mutter angrily, shaking your head as you rest your head in your hands, fingers massaging at your forehead. Another blind date? How could you possibly have agreed to that? The more you think about the more you wish that this part of your life was the dream instead. Fairytales are overrated but quite frankly, you certainly wouldn’t mind if that man from the party waltzed right into your life and swept you off your feet. He certainly had no trouble doing it last night. You wonder what he’s up to, now—

“Miss Jeon?”

You jump at the voice, scaring both you and Seokjin as you turn, a little cry escaping your lips instinctively. “Oh my God, you frightened me. And please, Y/N is fine. Better, actually.”

Seokjin looks like a deer in headlights, terrified to even talk to you, let alone address you by your first name. You appreciate the professionalism but have never been too fond of the whole ‘Miss’ thing. As if you or your parents need any more reminding that you’re single. Your first name feels much more natural. He flounders twice, opening his mouth to say something before shutting it again, as though whatever he says will suddenly enrage you. 

“Do you… need anything, Seokjin?” You ask, prompting him since he doesn’t seem to be taking matters into his own hands. 

The sound of his name from your lips snaps him out of his daze. “Oh! Yes, I do, actually. I just wanted to ask if you wanted me to include personal expenses on the part of the hotelier in the Excel sheet.”

“Personal expenses? Did you receive a credit from my father?” You ask, an eyebrow raised in surprise. 

“Yes, it was mailed to me just last week. I’ve only used it for a couple of items, though—”

“Like what?” You ask, head tilted. 

He blushes red, cheeks rosy like cherries in summer. “The curtains in the lobby.”

You bark out a laugh, amused at how unexpected this whole thing is. The one thing Seokjin spends money on, you instruct him to take down. At the sound of your chortle, Seokjin backs away, like a cat scared of thunder claps. “Of course,” you say, looking up at the sky and exhaling. Fate. “Please include those.” He nods, already making to scurry back to the front desk, but another sentence from your mouth stops him in his tracks. “Oh, and if you think that the curtains look nice, then leave them. I was never good at interior design anyway.”

You crack a smile, hoping that Seokjin will at least recognize that you’re attempting to be funny and grin, validating you and your lacking sense of humor. He doesn’t, but he does nod once more, and you at least feel like the ice between you is beginning to crack. 

Seokjin rushes back towards the front desk, taking on the enormous list of tasks you’ve assigned him without so much blinking an eye. You watch as his eyebrows furrow in concentration, knitting themselves together above the scrunch of his nose, as his eyes zero in on his computer screen. It’s obvious that he knows exactly what he’s doing and has no issues regarding his work whatsoever. Good thing he’s the hotelier. 

From here, you can use supervision as a cover for the way that you are blatantly ogling him, his figure and his face, finding yourself rather impressed at the sight in front of you. Here, in this lavish, modern hotel, he looks like a prince rather than a manager, clean button-down shirt and fitted slacks, tailored to fit his short torso and long legs. His hair hangs in front of his face in strands, the same sort of hairstyle that the attractive male love interests get, messy and tousled but still fresh. It looks good on him. He certainly wears it well. 

You don’t think being here will be too bad, so long as you have him. 

“Hey.” You feel Hoseok wrap his arm around you, joining you as you stand by the windows. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” you promise. “I am.”

Hoseok motions back towards them, where they work diligently behind the front desk as they wait for the next guests to arrive. Seokjin, thinking you aren’t looking, steps back from his computer for just a moment to take some breaths, catch some air. He stretches, arms above his head as his shirt is pulled out from where it’s tucked into his pants. Even from here, you can see the toned lines of his torso, his healthy, slim figure. 

Something about him is so familiar. Maybe you met him in a past life. 

“I think you’ll be fine, Y/N,” he promises, bright white smile gazing back at you, happy as always. “You don’t have anything to worry about. They all look like they know what they’re doing. Especially that Seokjin guy.”

Being here wasn’t your first choice. It wasn’t even your second. But you have people that you can’t let down, and responsibilities to uphold. Besides, you don’t think it’ll be that bad. At least, not with someone like Seokjin around. Perhaps there is always a silver lining. 

“Yeah,” you repeat again, exhaling. Hoseok turns to look at you, fondness lacing his features, and you smile to yourself. “I know.”

Very seldom are you shouted at by people that your family has employed. The fear of being fired due to disagreeing with your boss is enough to keep many people quiet. Submissive, even. 

But not Hoseok. 

“What is with these eye bags, Y/N?” He exclaims at you, exasperated as he picks up the color-correcting pot from his kit and turns around to face you. “I thought we agreed on eight hours of sleep per night. Getting less than that is a death sentence!”

“I’m fine, Hoseok,” you insist, even though the bags underneath your eyes are deeper than the Grand Canyon. You, admittedly, have not been sleeping as much as Hoseok has insisted upon. 

“No, you’re not, look at you! Earlier today you shoved your toothbrush into your ear when I called you while you were about to start brushing your teeth,” Hoseok reminds you, an embarrassing moment in your life that you would prefer to keep just between the two of you. Sometimes you just mix up what’s in your hands. It happens. 

You frown. “I thought we agreed not to mention that.”

“Your skin is looking dry, too,” Hoseok says, dabbing on the product underneath your eyes. “These are all signs that your body isn’t doing well.”

“Okay, Dr. Jung,” you say with a roll of your eyes, making Hoseok scowl playfully at you. “But I’m fine. I’m just working a little bit harder right now. That’s all.”

“That’s what you always say,” Hoseok points out, unimpressed with your measly excuse. “Every time I talk to you about how you aren’t taking care of yourself, you always go, ‘It’s because of work, I’m fine,’ or ‘Don’t worry about me, I just have a lot to do right now.’ It’s not healthy.”

“I don’t sound like that!” You object, offended at his mocking high-pitched impression of you. You don’t sound like Hoseok on helium. You refuse to accept that. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Hoseok says, shrugging you off as he pulls out the concealer. “I’m serious, Y/N. You work yourself way too hard. This event is supposed to be a fun business gala and you’re probably going to spend the whole time checking your email.”

“I will not!” You will.

Hoseok frowns, seeing right through you. One of the many benefits of being your personal assistant is the fact that he can read you like a children’s book. He also knows that he can say whatever he wants to you without fear of getting fired—not that he cares about that, either, because he’s probably got enough money in his bank account to put three kids through college. If he ever wanted to have kids, that is. So this is how conversations like these usually go. 

“If I didn’t like your live text updates on the stupid things people wear to these things so much, I would make you leave your phone at home,” Hoseok tells you. “You really do need to take time for yourself.”

“I do take time for myself,” you rebuke with a pout, thinking about how you’ve started waking up five minutes later so you have more time to sleep in. It means that you don’t get to read the morning news like you used to, but sometimes putting off politics until after you’ve had coffee is a good thing. 

“A once-a-month ten-minute bath while you put on a rose face mask doesn’t count,” Hoseok tells you pointedly. “You need to be incorporating this sort of thing into your everyday life. By taking time off. All you ever do is work.”

“It’s not my fault,” you huff, closing your eyes so Hoseok can do some eyeshadow. “I have a whole hotel to oversee after my dad assigned it to me. There’s a lot that I have to manage. Plus, my mom is making me go on these stupid blind dates with their associates’ snobby sons who still think that the pay gap isn’t real.”

Hoseok tuts to himself, shaking his head as he brushes color onto your eyelids. “Your parents have such bad taste in men for you.”

“I know!” 

“This is even further proof that you need to relax more,” Hoseok says economically, brain immediately connecting your predicament to his agenda to get you to take more time off, as always. “Because men stress you out.”

“Just them, but yes,” you correct.

“What do you mean ‘Just them’? Is there someone you’re interested in that doesn’t stress you out?” Hoseok demands, tapping your cheek to get you to open your eyes. You do and the first thing you see is Hoseok’s face, two inches from yours, staring at you as he waits for an answer.

You sigh. You might as well tell him about the mystery man. Clearly, you underestimated his power, because it’s been a week and you’re still thinking about him. “Yes, but—”

“‘Yes’?” Hoseok asks, shocked. “What the fuck, when did you meet him? What does he look like? What’s his name? Job? Is he rich?”

“At my birthday party,” you say. You can picture the scene perfectly in your mind. The balcony, the stars, the mask. The feeling of his hands on your waist, his lips on yours. They’ve been etched into your brain. “We talked on the balcony for a little while and then we kissed.”

“You what?”

“Don’t overreact, it’s not that big of a deal,” you order. The mere recollection of it is already making your body restless and your cheeks burn.

“What do you mean? It’s a huge deal!”

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” you interrupt, sighing to yourself, “because he ran off at midnight Cinderella-style and I don’t know his name, or his job, or even what he really looks like because he was wearing a mask the whole time.”

Hoseok stops dead in his tracks, the loose power leaving a puff of smoke in between the two of you as his words sink in. Yeah. That’s how you feel too. You finally develop an interest in somebody after years of going it solo and you don’t know a damn thing about him. Other than the fact that he is a fantastic kisser. Which is not an appropriate identifier. You suppose that you could use the mask, but you don’t even know half of the people your mother invited. How are you supposed to narrow down who was wearing a black mask and who wasn’t?

The fact is that unless a miracle happens, you don’t have any way of figuring out who that man is. Yet another thing that you have to dwell on while you worry about everything else going on in your life. 

Hoseok sits on his words for a few more moments, trying to figure out the right thing to say. Eventually, he settles on, “Damn. That sucks.”

“Yeah.”

“Can you do anything to find him?”

You shake your head, resigning yourself to a life where the mystery man will forever remain a mystery. “No. I don’t even know who was on the guest list.”

“What if you ask Jungkook?” Hoseok poses. “Maybe he knows him.”

“Jungkook does not need to know about my barely-there love life,” you say with a self-deprecating chuckle. You and your brother typically keep your conversations far away from that realm of topics, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Jungkook is rather flush with admirers. Many of whom have gotten to know him a little bit… closer. “It’s no big deal, ‘Seok. I’m not really desperate to find love. I just need to focus on work, right now.”

“I wish you wouldn’t work yourself so hard, Y/N,” Hoseok says with a melancholic smile, knowing that no matter what he tells you, you’ll always be too determined for your own good. At least he tries. 

You purse your lips in understanding. Hoseok just wants what’s best for you, but what’s best for you right now is being ready for your father’s impending retirement. “There’s just too much that I have to do.”

“At least you’ll have help with the resort,” Hoseok offers, always looking on the bright side. “That Seokjin fellow seems like he really knows what he’s doing.”

You think back to your visits to the resort. Your longest stay was the first day you arrived, but you’ve been making frequent trips back to check in. And every time you arrive, Seokjin is waiting dutifully for your next orders, always getting your completed requests back to you on time, formatted perfectly. He listens to your every word and asks the right questions. He knows exactly what to do and he has no problems admitting when he doesn’t. He’s even started bringing you the occasional coffee.

He’s also terribly handsome, but you try to think about other things when you look at him. 

Hoseok’s right. At least you have Seokjin. His impeccable work ethic is half the reason you aren’t wearing yourself thin worrying about the resort. He was definitely meant to be a hotelier. 

“I guess you’re right.” You nod, letting Hoseok brush a deep maroon lipstick onto you as he finishes up with your makeup. “It could be worse.”

Hoseok mumbles in agreement, stepping back. “Let me look at you.”

You stand up, gown, heels, makeup, and all, letting Hoseok gaze at you to make sure that everything is flawless. You’ve never liked the events you have to attend, but getting dressed up is always something you rather enjoy. Especially when Hoseok is the one doing it. 

The dress drapes down your figure perfectly, hugging your sides as it gathers on the floor, leaving just enough space for the tips of your heels to peek out. Your necklace hangs low on your torso and your earrings dangle, soft golden strings with gems at the base. Your eyes sparkle with the help of the glitter that Hoseok has added, touches of shimmer on the high points of your face. You look into the mirror and for once, you feel satisfied.

“Wow,” Hoseok says, proud and beaming. “Look at you.”

There you are. 

Days at the resort hotel pass by faster now. 

Granted, no work day could ever top the speed at which the days passed when you were younger, playing outside with friends or running around in the yard during recess. But being here isn’t as terrible as you had first made it out to be. At least you don’t have your father constantly looking over your shoulder, even if he does call you every day to ask for updates. And at least the people here have integrity, more so than any of the usual executives you work with up in the central building in town. The people here aren’t brown-nosing you every minute of every day. 

And yes, getting to see Seokjin every day is also rather enjoyable. From a professional perspective. 

Hoseok says you need to take more time for yourself and relax more but quite frankly, being at the resort hotel is a vacation. It’s a respite from the hustle-and-bustle culture that your father has cultivated in his office building. It’s a break from the neverending business deals, the meetings, the agreements and bargains and contracts. And most importantly, it’s something that you can do without your father’s help. 

For once, it almost feels like a little taste of freedom. 

Of course, Hoseok would also tease you terribly about the fact that you consider overseeing a resort hotel a break, as opposed to an actual holiday where you take real time off. But he must know that that’s never going to happen. At least, not anytime soon. 

You hadn’t realized your father’s retirement was so close. The years pass by in a blur but you have always thought that your father has much too much to finish, tasks and projects, and events that will take another few years to come to fruition. Too many loose ends that he needs to tie up, deals he must close and finances he must track. You’ve been groomed to take over for him since you were young, even before you graduated, but retirement has always felt like a distant future. 

Not an imminent happening. 

Jungkook hadn’t even sounded surprised when you told him that you would be overseeing the new resort. 

You wonder if you’re the only one in your family who hadn’t expected your father to be planning his retirement so soon. The money and savings isn’t an issue—he will continue to invest long after he leaves his office—but the time is. Perhaps he has finished more than you thought he would. Accomplished more goals than you expected he’d do. 

Or perhaps, you just grew up too quickly. 

Time has always gone by much too fast for your liking. When you were little, when you were in school, when you graduated. You closed your eyes and suddenly all of your youth had whizzed by. You woke up and suddenly you were in and out of four years of college and two years of a Master’s in business. You blinked and suddenly you are about to inherit a company you thought you never would. 

The fear of everything ending is enough to keep you away. Away from that skyscraper in the center of the city, where your father’s office sits at the top floor, where he works nonstop to make sure that everything is ready for your arrival. Away from a future you thought you could avoid, until it reached you. 

Having this resort hotel, a brand new building in the beachy part of town, with efficient, competent staff and a gorgeous view, is enough to make you want to live in the past forever. 

Your phone screen lights up with your father’s contact for the third time today, the green ‘answer’ button and the red ‘decline’ button waiting patiently for your decision. Staring down at it, you frown. You normally aren’t one to purposely miss your father’s calls, but today is the day that the deal with the Ohs is finalized, something that you have zero desire to celebrate. 

After a few more moments, your phone stops vibrating in your hand, the screen going back. You roll your eyes and stuff it into the pocket of your pants, not wanting to wait for it to light up once more. You have a feeling that your mother will be phoning shortly to berate you for not answering your father’s calls, a call that you have every intention of ignoring just like the previous ones. You aren’t sure how to make clearer the fact that you think the deal is a bad idea. A terrible one, even. Mostly because the Ohs are horrible people.

Still, you cannot resist pulling your phone out when you feel it buzz against your side.

[Today, 12:27PM]

Jungkook: dude dad’s flipping out because you aren’t answering his calls

Ugh. Not Jungkook, too.

You: Tell him that I will congratulate him on the deal in person later. You: I’m busy right now.

Jungkook: he’s calling just to check in on the resort

You: I give him weekly updates and forward him any pressing news. He’ll manage.

Jungkook: just call him or mom’s gonna call you

You: Tell her that I will congratulate him on the deal in person. You: Later.

Jungkook: are you gonna be like this until dad retires?

You: Like what?

Jungkook: -_- Jungkook: don’t play stupid Jungkook: you’re being stubborn and you know it.

You: Dad already knows that I didn’t approve of him going through with the deal. I don’t imagine he’s expecting a party from me.

Jungkook: you can’t keep ignoring him just because you didn’t approve of one thing Jungkook: how is that professional???? Jungkook: you’re inheriting the business soon Y/N Jungkook: you need to start acting like it

You: Don’t tell me how to act when you aren’t the one busting your ass trying to make sure the business is ready for when he retires. You: You have your own life to lead and your own things to do. It’s not your place.

Jungkook: as a businessman, it isn’t Jungkook: as your brother, it is

You scowl at your screen. The brother card. Jungkook pulls it whenever he and you both know that you’re being unreasonable, and the worst part is that it always works. It always works because Jungkook only ever wants the best for you, wants to see you succeed as a businesswoman, as a future CEO, and as his sister. And who are you to deny him such a simple pleasure?

You: I just have a lot on my plate right now. Dad and I can talk later.

Jungkook: yknow Jungkook: like, occupationally, you are more than ready to inherit the company and you know it. Jungkook: you work so hard 24/7 and you never take breaks, you know exactly what you’re doing and you can command a room better than anyone i’ve ever met Jungkook: but Jungkook: oh idk

You: What?

An impromptu psychoanalysis from your wise-beyond-years younger brother is certainly not something you had been expecting today. But Jungkook always has and always will know you better than anyone else, something that is both a blessing and a curse.

Jungkook: you are so fucking ready to inherit the business Jungkook: i just wish you would realize it

Silence. You pause, watching the three dots appear and disappear over and over again, Jungkook typing and deleting what next he wants to say. Chuckling to yourself, you read his message over and over again. 

What’s Jungkook on about? Doesn’t he know what you do? The position you have? Just because you’ll eventually take over the business doesn’t mean you’re ready for it. Isn’t Jungkook aware of how much work you have to do? About how your father assigned you this resort hotel as punishment for disagreeing with him? 

You aren’t ready. 

You’re barely halfway. 

You: Yeah, right.

Jungkook: i’m serious Y/N Jungkook: can’t you see how prepared you are

You: I still have lots to do, Jungkook. Just because I’ve been given more responsibility doesn’t suddenly mean Dad’s going to retire tomorrow and that I’m ready to take over.

Jungkook: that’s not what i meant and you know it

You: I don’t feel like talking about this anymore. Tell Dad that I’ll talk to him about the deal later. 

Jungkook: … Jungkook: fine Jungkook: but don’t say i didn’t try to tell you

You angrily switch your phone off, fuming at the fact that the deal’s gone through, fuming at how Jungkook thinks that suddenly because you were given a resort hotel to oversee it means that you’re ready to take over from your father, and fuming at how, above all, there’s a part of you and a part of Jungkook that both know that he is, as usual, right. 

There’s a knock on the door to your makeshift office at the hotel and you lose it. 

“What?” 

You look up just in time to see Seokjin jump slightly at your shout, coffee sloshing around in the cups in his hand. Ah. You hadn’t meant to scare him like that. 

Exhaling, you rub at your temples as you set your phone down on the desk, shaking your head. “I’m sorry, Seokjin. I didn’t mean to snap at you. Please, come in.”

“Coffee?” He offers, a small smile on his face as he holds it out.

“You are a lifesaver,” you declare, taking the cup from him happily and having a sip. Perfectly scalding. Seokjin waits patiently behind your desk until you’re finished, swaying slightly. “Can I help you with anything?”

“Oh, no,” he says, shaking his head. “Just thought that I’d let you know that I’ve just got more files on the finances.”

“Oh, excellent,” you declare happily, accepting the small manila folder from underneath Seokjin’s arm. You open it just to browse, and everything seems to be in order. An easy thing to file away for future reference if necessary. And there’s no doubt in your mind that Seokjin’s already faxed you an electronic copy as well. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Seokjin nods. He turns to leave but seems to linger, noticing the tension in your shoulders and the irritation on your face, the way you drink up the boiling coffee like it’s nothing, relishing in the burn down your throat. He almost stops himself, opening his mouth slightly and then closing it, but then he just sighs, and he asks, “Are you alright?”

You sputter out the coffee all over the manila folder in front of you. “I’m sorry,” you say over coughs, the beverage going down the wrong pipe in all of the chaos. “What—what did you say?”

“You just seem more stressed than usual, is all,” Seokjin says, rocking back and forth on his feet with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his ink black slacks. 

“I’m sorry if I’ve been snappy recently,” you say, admitting it. “There’s just a lot I’m dealing with right now. Mostly to do with work.”

“I hope I’m helping, then?” He says hopefully, a hesitant grin on his face. 

You nod in agreement. Without him, you definitely wouldn’t be sleeping half as much as you do now (which is apparently still not enough, according to Hoseok). At least Seokjin’s there. “You definitely are. I don’t think I’d have made it without you,” you chuckle. 

Seokjin smiles. “If you need me to do more, I’d be happy to. Just ask.”

“Thank you, Seokjin. I really appreciate that,” you tell him. In the short time you’ve known him, Seokjin’s kindness has outshone even his stellar work ethic, a trait that you’ve come to admire in him, mostly because you know you can only dream of being as generous as he. “It means a lot.”

“Anytime,” he says, and he means it, too. “I’ll always be here for you.”

And standing here, in your makeshift office, with a matching cup of coffee in his hand, and a gorgeous, toothy smile on his face, you know that he means that, too. 

Sometimes, you can’t even believe a man like Seokjin exists. He’s practically flawless.

“I will bear that in mind,” you promise. “You really are a wonderful person, Seokjin. Really.”

Seokjin grins, the compliment going straight to him, blushing furiously as he exits your office, waving a tiny goodbye on his way out. You return it, watching fondly as he nearly crashes into the door frame, hand slamming onto it before he realizes. He laughs at his clumsiness and even from here you can see his cheeks get redder, heating up like the coffee in his hand. 

Work is hard. Being the unprepared heir to an enormous conglomerate even harder. But Seokjin’s right. 

At least you’ll always have him. 

You’ve never been one to develop friendships with your employees, but there is something about Seokjin that’s different. Something about him that makes him a confidant first and a hotelier second. Something about him that pulls you in, an electric, magnetic touch. 

You feel like you’ve known him longer than you feel. Feel like you’re closer than you really are. 

Some people are just like that, you suppose. Some people just make you wish that you had known them forever.

Quite frankly, you don’t think you could name a single thing wrong about Seokjin even if you tried. He gets your coffee order perfect (not that it’s hard, it’s just that you’ve never told him what it is), he does all of his work before you’ve even asked, and he runs the damn resort hotel better than you do. He’s obviously a people-person and can make others laugh without trying. He’s even figured out how to compliment you, a trait that not even grown businessmen have learned.

The days pass in a blur, made quicker by the ease of working with him. Of being around him. Seokjin lifts up your spirit and he doesn’t even have to try. His competence in the workplace is enough to have you coming by the resort daily instead of weekly, hourly instead of daily, just so you can spend time in a place that, for once, makes you feel relaxed. 

Hoseok would say that Seokjin is a miracle-worker. 

You would say that he’s just brilliant.

Honestly, sometimes you think that even Seokjin is more well-equipped to run your family’s business than you are. And you’re the heiress. 

The differences between Seokjin and all other men you’ve had the displeasure of interacting with (besides Jungkook, because he’s your brother, and Hoseok, because he’s the best) become abundantly clear after your second mother-mandated blind date. 

The first one that you went on a couple of weeks ago was alright. He wasn’t an asshole, but also he had the same amount of flavor as the plain white bread that you were served prior to the meal. But no points is better than negative points, right?

You mentioned to your mother that you probably wouldn’t be interested in a second date with him. She didn’t sound surprised. 

Unfortunately for you, your second blind date was not nearly as uneventful. 

The good part about your date was that it was a brunch arrangement, which is unabashedly your favorite meal of the day and also saves you the trouble of having to get all dressed up for a fancy dinner in the center of the city. But that is where the good parts end. 

You don’t know what your parents were thinking, setting you up with a man like Sangmin. Every single thing that you have ever complained to them about a man, Sangmin either did or was. The first red flag was how he showed up to your brunch meeting wearing a navy blue suit. It didn’t get any better from there. 

You know that your parents just want you to find someone and settle down, someone who can take the weight off of your shoulders and get you to stop working so hard, someone who will make you happy and who can keep you comfortable, someone who is something that you genuinely will want to spend time with, but you can’t explain why, with this knowledge of your preferences and dislikes, they still send you on dates with men like Sangmin. 

Men who boast about their money with every chance they get, checking the time just so they can flash their Rolex watch even though their phone is right there, telling you how many fancy cars they own that deserve a woman like you in the passenger seat. Men who try to explain economic practices that your family pioneered to you. Men whose eyes flash with dollar signs when they hear that you’re going to be inheriting your family’s company. 

Your parents want you to find someone who can take the weight off of your shoulders and keep you comfortable? They should let you pick. 

At one in the afternoon and not a moment later, you storm into your office, flinging your bag onto your chair as you groan aloud, staring out the window and fighting the urge to punch right through the Plexiglass. There’s no word for the way you’re feeling, the unintelligible growl that you let out. You just aren’t having a very good day. 

Your desire to interact with men is at an all time low, and yet, you can’t help but turn around when you hear his voice. 

“Knock, knock,” Seokjin says from the doorway, two cups of steaming coffee in his hand. He strolls up happily to you, placing the plastic cup in your outstretched hand. “How’d it go?”

“Bad,” you spit, not wanting to say anything else.

“Oh, no, really?” Seokjin asks, genuinely disappointed. At least someone was rooting for you. You don’t even think you had been rooting for yourself. “Worse than the first guy?”

“Say the first guy was just… slightly stale white bread, okay?” You begin to explain, because Seokjin doesn’t need the details and you don’t need to relive the experience. “Then this guy would be… how would you put it—?”

“Really stale white bread?” Seokjin offers.

“A rotten egg mayonnaise sandwich that’s been sitting in a dumpster for two weeks,” you correct. 

Seokjin winces. A perfect reaction, as always. 

“It was just bad. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” You decide once and for all, moving to your desk and slamming the coffee cup onto the wood. It sloshes over the edge and splashes around the side, leaving behind a ring that you know you’ll have to clean up later.

Seokjin goes to stand by the window, looking out into the back gardens of the resort, all tropical red flowers and vibrant green leaves. “You have a third one, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” you groan, the mere thought sending shivers down your spine. And not the good kind. The fact that the dates aren’t even over yet is enough to send you into a tailspin. “God, my parents are just desperate, at this point.”

“Why?” He asks, turning to face you, brown eyes wide and curious. “Are they worried about something?”

“Ugh,” you begin, on the verge of slamming your head onto the mahogany. The problem isn’t that your parents are worried you won’t find someone. It’s that your parents think that it’s their job to find someone for you. “I think they’re scared that I’m never going to marry, or that I work myself too hard and need someone to spend time with to calm down. I don’t understand. Even if I were to never marry, that’s not a bad thing. I can do what I want. I’m perfectly capable of running my family’s group without someone else.”

“Do you not want to get married?” Seokjin asks. The reason, you realize, that Seokjin is so refreshing, a respite from the rest of the executives that constantly surround you, is because he doesn’t expect anything of you. He doesn’t assume that you’ll eventually marry and become disparaging when you suggest otherwise. He doesn’t assume that you constantly need guidance on official matters that you alone have been tasked to handle. He doesn’t assume that you aren’t capable. 

(He did assume your preferred coffee order. And he is an excellent judge.) 

“I mean,” you begin, rubbing at your temples in a desperate attempt to relieve your body of the stress that sits upon it, “I suppose that eventually, it would be nice. But I’m in no rush if I haven’t met the right person, you know? Like, I’m not going to force myself to if the time isn’t right. There’s no deadline to get married.”

Seokjin nods in agreement, mouth shut. One of your favorite things about Seokjin is how, whenever you begin to speak, he begins to listen. 

“My parents are just putting all of this pressure on me to get married because they think that I’ll need someone’s help when I take over after my father retires. Or they just think that I’m sad and lonely. Which, maybe they’re right about the second part, but I just hate how they’re putting all of this pressure on me to go on dates and get married and work hard when there isn’t even a timeline for me to take over yet. I don’t even have real confirmation that my father is planning on retiring anytime soon. I just—ugh!” There really is no better way to put it than to just shriek and throw your hands up in the air. You sigh, dragging your hand down the side of your face. “Do you ever wish that you could just… I don’t know. Disappear?”

Seokjin’s eyes widen when he hears your words, like they’ve set something off in his brain. Even sitting on your tongue, they feel familiar to you. Where have you heard those before?

He seems to wait for another few moments, contemplating what he’s next going to say, like if he just opens his mouth and lets the words flow out he’ll say something wrong. Little does Seokjin know, in your eyes, nothing he could ever say would be wrong to you. 

“You aren’t sad and lonely,” he begins, a nice, comforting pep talk even though you sort of are both sad and lonely. You work nonstop and have three friends, two of which are employed by your family, the other one being your brother. “And you don’t need to rush into getting married if you don’t feel like it, no matter what your parents say. I mean, at least I think you don’t. You’re obviously much more focused on your career and how you want to succeed in the future, and that’s good. It’s something that means a lot to you.”

He takes a few steps towards you, setting his coffee cup on your desk. You look up to him from where you’re sitting in your office chair, letting his words carve themselves deep into your heart, rest within your soul. 

Sometimes, you don’t realize you’ve gotten yourself down until someone is trying to pick you back up. 

“You do have control over your life,” he tells you, and for once in your life you actually feel yourself believing it. “What you are doing, what you have been doing, is right. Things will come with time. You’ll learn and grow more as you keep living. And even if you aren’t looking for them right now—” he says, eyes wide and knowing and promising, looking at you so desperately because God, he just wants you to listen to him. To let his words mean something. “—there is someone out there who will love you.”

The sound of his voice dissipates into the air, sinking into the floor, dust after a storm. 

“You really think so?” You ask, hopeful. You never believed in soulmates but you have always believed in love. Believed that when the feeling was right, you would know. 

(That kiss still lingers in your mind, like morning dew after a rainy night. Like frost settling over the grass. Is it possible that you can feel like that again?)

Seokjin nods, firm and true. He does think that. He does. “I do,” he says. “I really do.”

The third date is forgettable. 

Or perhaps Seokjin has just enchanted you. So much so that your brain doesn’t even choose to remember interactions with other men. They just aren’t as memorable. 

You finish up this round of parent-mandated rich boy blind dates and get back to work, knowing that you might as well make the most of your now-unoccupied time before your mother decides once again that it’s time for you to go on dates again with men you have no interest in. Work, unlike so many other things in your life, will always be a constant. For better or for worse. 

Today, it’s barely even dawn before you arrive at the hotel. In recent days, the resort has become your hub for all of your work, even the work that doesn’t have anything to do with it. There’s just something calming about being here. Something that makes you feel more productive. That makes you want to work more. 

You slide into your office with ease, coffee in one hand and messenger bag in the other, surprisingly awake considering the sun is hardly over the horizon, soft orange rays peeking out from between the trees and skyscrapers. You don’t imagine there’s a lot of tasks of immediate priority waiting for you on your desk, but there’s always other work to be done. Administrative orders, emails to send, requests to be made. Even here, there’s no shortage of items on your never-ending to-do list. 

Seokjin’s not due to clock in for another several hours, at least. But he works long days and longer nights, and he deserves at least the morning off. He should at least be afforded that small luxury. 

Sitting down in your office chair, you pull yourself into the desk, elbows resting on the hardwood, head in your palms. The smell of coffee wafts through the air, thick and potent, waking up your nerves, one by one, sending small waves through your brain. You close your eyes, almost drifting back to sleep, sighing happily. 

Today feels like a good day. 

The hours pass quickly when you’re here, the sun rising slowly in the sky as it always does, day in and day out. You rely on it as much as it relies on you, wakes up this little corner of the world, says hello to the people stepping out of their doors and onto the street. No matter what, you know that the sun will always be there to greet you when you wake and say goodbye before you sleep. Within thirty minutes your coffee is finished, within the hour your emails are answered. 

One by one, you check the tasks off your list, responding to a phone call or two, forwarding some files to your father, rejecting a business proposal and requesting changes to another. You don’t even notice the minutes blowing past you until the sun is high in the sky, and the clock is chiming twelve. Noon, already?

“Knock knock,” a voice from the doorway calls. 

You feel your body relax when you see Seokjin standing there, peeking his head into your office like he always does. He looks much more casual today, a sweater vest over a button-down shirt, looser beige pants in place of his usual tailored slacks, hair sitting in a tousled mess atop his head, forehead peeking through the strands that hang low over his face, brushing his eyelashes. Instinctively, you glance down to your usual pantsuit attire. Did you miss a memo?

“What, no coffee for me today?” You tease, an eyebrow raised as Seokjin enters, coffee cup-less.

“Not today, sorry,” he says with a guilty smile. “I thought that maybe we could get something else to eat.”

“Oh!” You exclaim happily. “Sure, we can order some delivery. What are you feeling? Sushi? A burger? Oh, I know this wonderful brunch place that’s just a few blocks away—”

Seokjin laughs, a hand reaching out to push your phone done. The mere sensation of his fingertips upon your skin are enough to have you looking back up at him, shellshocked, heart frozen in place. “I was thinking something a little different.”

“Like what?” There are plenty of options for the two of you to pick from.

“How about you and I take a break this afternoon?” He asks, eyes wide with ambition. 

You frown, nose scrunched up at the notion. “A break? You mean… leave?”

Seokjin nods. Oh, so you did hear him correctly. “You’re always working so hard. You should take some time off.”

“Ugh,” you respond, rolling your eyes, having had this conversation thousands of times before. “You sound like Hoseok.”

“Hoseok’s right, Miss Y/N,” Seokjin points out, much to your chagrin. “You’ve been working so much lately. Just a little break, alright? We can get out of here and do something fun.”

“Nice try, Seokjin,” you say with a scoff, turning back to the work in front of you. “Maybe some other time.” Which means never, so long as you can help it. 

“Oh, come on,” Seokjin says, a pleading lilt to his voice. He’s beginning to pout in front of you, lower lip turned outwards. “Just a couple of hours, please? We can go into the city and walk around for a little bit. Eat some food in the park, or something.”

You look up to him, eyes narrowed in suspicion. That does sound good… but you have work to do, items to cross off your list. This hotel isn’t going to manage itself, and neither is your life. “A couple of hours?” You clarify, interest piqued. 

“Just a couple,” Seokjin promises, fighting off the grin that’s etching its way across his face. “Please?”

You sigh. 

Twenty minutes and a Lyft ride later, you and Seokjin are standing in the middle of the city, along the streets known for their high-class fashion boutiques and expensive restaurants with afternoon tea. There’s a park a couple of blocks to the north. It’s a part of the city that you rarely get to spend time in, usually trapped in the business skyscraper sector a ten-minute subway ride away, but for that reason alone, it feels brand new. 

Seokjin buys you both a cup of expensive coffee despite your objections, and the two of you walk along the sidewalks side by side, sipping from your paper cups with plastic lids, letting the warmth wash down your throats. 

It’s nice, being out here. Away from anything that reminds you of work. With someone you’ve wanted to spend more time with for a while, now. 

Out here, you can almost pretend. Pretend that you aren’t the heiress to a major global conglomerate, pretend that you aren’t being groomed to marry up, pretend that life is just a little more normal. 

Out here, you can almost pretend that you and Seokjin are more than just friends. 

“Oh my God, Y/N, look at this shirt!” Seokjin gasps, stopping in his tracks in front of the window of one of the most expensive luxury boutiques you can name. You’re pretty sure that Jungkook shops here sometimes. 

The shirt in question is a satin white button-down with hand-stitched birds decorating the fabric, wispy little designs that seem to be fluttering off of the material itself. It stands front and center in the window, a masterpiece meant to have people stopping in the streets just to gaze up at it in awe. It’s doing its job rather well. 

“You wanna try it on?” You offer, motioning towards the door of the shop, a sleek, black one with metallic silver accents. 

“What?” He asks, turning to you with an eyebrow raised. 

You smile, pointing up at the shirt, eyes tracing the drape of the fabric. “Come on, just for fun.”

It doesn’t take much more convincing to have Seokjin marching up to the door and pulling it open, giddy like a child walking into a toy store. He spots what he’s looking for immediately, a single shirt on a silver rack, hanging from a simple wire hanger. Other than the one on the mannequin in the window, there seems to be no other option. 

“It even feels expensive,” Seokjin sighs happily, hand brushing over the satin fabric. He holds it out to you, and it’s so light and pliable that you can barely feel your fingertips touching the material. 

“There’s the fitting room,” you say, pointing to the back corner, black velvet held up by a rod, muted gray paint lining the walls. Seokjin grins excitedly at you before rushing off, disappearing behind the curtain with a flourish. 

Instinctively, your eyes trace the interior, jumping from the hangings on the walls to the decorative shelves, the pastel cashmere sweaters and shiny leather loafers, the silken white button downs and navy striped ties. Every item in this room practically screams Seokjin’s name, and even when he isn’t in front of you can you picture him wearing each piece, picture him in an oversized light pink sweater or a sleek white suit. 

It’s weird. You’ve never been able to imagine things like that. Not even on you. 

The clothes in here are some of the most gorgeous garments you’ve ever had the pleasure of laying your eyes on and yet there is something else in this room that outshines them all. 

“Ready?”

You turn back to the fitting room, watch as the curtain shifts slightly. “Ready,” you say.

A hand comes out to push the curtain to the side, satin sleeves covering his wrist, but not even that glimpse of skin could really prepare you for the sight before your eyes. 

Seokjin steps out of the fitting room and you almost gasp aloud at the sight. 

The funny part is that he isn’t wearing anything else designed to complete the look. His hair is loose and floppy, like he had brushed through it with his fingers once or twice before deciding it was good enough. His pants are a roomy beige, hardly even complimenting the monochromatic shirt, white with black accents. He’s wearing sneakers. 

And yet, he looks stunning. 

Standing in front of you, Seokjin looks like the kind of person that your parents would want to set you up with. Rich, well-dressed (not that he isn’t already), powerful, educated. But he looks like more than that, too. He looks like someone straight out of a painting, like a sculpture that belongs in a museum. He stands tall and mighty, the hero after defeating a villain, the love interest in an old-timey film. 

God, he looks amazing. Looks like he belongs in those clothes, belongs in this store. Belongs in the kind of life that the usual clientele of this store live in. Something about him is just so familiar. Like he has always fit into the crowd that your parents want you to associate with. Like you’ve seen him before, once upon a dream. 

“So,” he says, interrupting your thoughts with a smug smile. “How do I look?”

He must already know the answer to that. 

You’re speechless. “I—Wow, Seokjin. You look great.”

A hand comes up to rub at the nape of his neck. “You think so?”

“I know so,” you correct. “It fits you perfectly.”

The fabric shapes his shoulders but drapes over the rest of his torso, including his ridiculously small waist. It both hangs loosely and hugs all of the right places. Your family regularly gets clothing tailored and yet you still don’t think you’ve ever seen any item of clothing fitting someone as well as this one does him. It’s as if the damn thing was made for him. 

“It feels like I’m wearing a cloud and a blanket all at once,” he says dreamily, relishing in the feeling. “If only the price tag made me feel this way too.”

“How much is it?” 

Seokjin holds out the sleeve to which the tag is attached for you to inspect, and the moment you see a comma in the cost, you understand why. No wonder Jungkook’s fine with shopping here. To your family, that amount is pocket change.

“But you really like it, don’t you?” You ask, looking back up at him, closer now. Seokjin nods, lips pressed together in a thin line, wanting something that he knows he can’t have. You know that feeling, too. 

“I would get it if I didn’t mind taking out a loan for it,” he jokes, admiring the detail at the cuffs, the way it cinches in towards his wrist. 

“Then let me buy it for you,” you say before thinking twice, because you have more money than you realistically know what to do with and Seokjin deserves it. He looks gorgeous in it and more importantly, he feels gorgeous in it. He emerged from the fitting room and it was almost like there was this white glow surrounding him, this fluorescent halo that made it seem like the shirt was melting into his body. 

Seokjin’s eyes widen. “What? No, I can’t let you.”

“Please?” You plead, eyes gazing up to him. “You deserve it. Plus, you look amazing.”

“It’s so much money,” Seokjin reminds you, shaking his head. “I can’t. No.”

“Seokjin, do you even know who I am? I can afford it, don’t worry,” you assure him, already pulling him towards the register, his old sweater vest and button down still hanging on the rack inside the fitting room. 

“No, I can’t let you. It might not be a lot of money to you, but it is to me,” insists Seokjin, refusing to back down. 

You roll your eyes, figuring out the game that he’s playing. “Then consider it a thank you. For all of the things that you do for me. The least of which is bringing me coffee every day.”

“That’s just my job, Y/N—” He reaches out a hand to stop you from getting out your wallet, his enormous palm cupping yours as you stare at him, fighting over the shirt like two friends with a restaurant bill.

“No,” you tell Seokjin, because his job is to be a hotelier but he became a friend instead. And he didn’t do it just because he was told to. “You deserve it,” you say, placing your free hand on top of his. It makes him look at you, eyes glossy and big and beautiful. “You really do, Seokjin. This is the least I can do to say thank you for being there for me.”

“Ma’am?” 

The lady behind the counter catches you both off guard. “Will you be buying this shirt?”

Seokjin looks down at you in disbelief, almost like he doesn’t expect you to say yes. Like he doesn’t think he’s worthy of a shirt with such a high price tag.

But little does Seokjin know, if you could buy the whole universe for him, you would do it in a heartbeat. 

You walk out of the boutique with a light heart and a lighter credit card, with Seokjin by your side and his old clothes in a cardstock bag with ribbons for handles. Even if he had resisted at first, you’re happy that he caved. He looks stupidly handsome. You’re actually somewhat regretting agreeing that he should wear the shirt out instead. 

A block away from the park is a little macaron store with more available flavors than you can count on both of your hands and toes. Feeling insatiable, you buy a box of twenty-four and decide on the spot that you won’t be leaving the center of the city without having finished them all. The mere scent of the shop as you walked in was enough to send you into a tizzy. 

Seokjin scopes out an open spot on the grass, in the shade of a big Japanese maple tree, and the two of you immediately settle down in the park, the blades tickling your ankles as you set the box of macarons in between the two of you and get to work filling your stomachs. 

“All of my friends are going to think that you’re like, my sugar mommy for buying me this,” Seokjin says, taking a bite out of the lavender one. 

“If you’re really that embarrassed, you could always say that I just gave you a raise,” you offer, peering over into the box to pick your poison. The problem is that you just want to shove all twenty-three into your mouth. 

“No way,” says Seokjin over a mouthful of macaron. “A sugar mommy is way more exciting. I’m just lucky I have a boss with a bank account.”

“Well, unlike all of the other men that my parents have sent me on dates with, you actually deserve to have someone treat you once in a while,” you say happily, eventually deciding on a lemon flavored macaron and popping the entire thing into your mouth. “I’ve met very few men who are as charming as you, Seokjin. Charming and kind.”

“‘Very few’?” Seokjin repeats, interest piqued. “Who dares upstage me?”

You laugh at his brazenness, his attractive confidence. “Oh, no one,” you say with a shrug of your hand. “There was this one guy I met at my birthday party, but I didn’t even catch his name.”

“Too busy mingling to ask?” Seokjin teases, looking sufficiently less confident than he did ten seconds ago. Like someone you had just said caught him off guard. 

“Yes, actually. And you don’t really need to know this, but he was an excellent kisser, too. Really sent me into a tailspin,” you say, feeling the faint sensation dance across your lips, the ghost of his mouth on yours. “But he ran off at midnight like Cinderella and left only a mask behind to remind me that I didn’t dream up the whole thing.”

“Ah,” Seokjin says with a nod, a strangely succinct answer for a man as wordy as he. A silence settles over the two of you as you continue to eat, slowly emptying out the box of macarons between the two of you, a light snack to keep you occupied when your mouths aren’t running circles around each other. “My dog gave birth a few weeks ago,” he says randomly. “Want to see some photos?”

At your enthusiastic reply, Seokjin pulls his phone from his pocket and opens up his camera roll to reveal a gorgeous terrier with four equally adorable puppies nursing from her, and your heart nearly melts. Nearly all of his most recent photos are pictures of them as they’ve grown older, opened their eyes and learned how to walk, started play-fighting with each other and eventually tracking into new territory (the living room), but you don’t miss the couple of selfies you see here and there. Even with the warped iPhone camera does Seokjin still look positively flawless. 

“They’re adorable, Seokjin,” you tell him, heart soft. “I’m in love.”

“Me, too,” Seokjin says happily. “Two of the puppies have future homes but I think I want to keep one of them. I just love them too much to let them all go.”

“You’ll make a great dog dad,” you assure him, sighing contentedly. “God, don’t you even know how perfect you are, Seokjin?”

He is silent. 

“Like, you bring me coffee every day and do all of your work and never talk down to me or assume that I don’t know what I’m doing. You’ve raised a family of dogs and have shown them more love than anything else. You even got me to leave the office for once even though you knew that I’d be really annoying about it,” you declare, partially to him, partially to you, and partially to the world, who deserves to know that there is someone out there like Seokjin that is equal parts wonderful and generous and kind and handsome and funny and lovable. 

It’s not just the fact that most of your interactions with men your age go sour. It’s the fact that Seokjin is good just because he is, not because he tries to be. It’s the fact that he cares so deeply and loves so much. It’s the fact that for once, there is someone out there who really does understand you. 

“You deserve a break,” Seokjin points out. “You work too hard.”

“Hoseok will be so angry that you accomplished what he’s been trying to get me to do for months, now,” you say. You’ve already missed three phone calls and seven texts from him within the last couple of hours. 

“It’s my charm,” Seokjin teases, a soft watermelon macaron grin on his face. 

“It really is,” you agree, feeling the gap between you close, inch by inch. “There’s just something about you, Kim Seokjin.”

“Mmm, do tell,” Seokjin murmurs, beginning to lean in, your bodies moving of their own accord. Your mouth tastes like lemon and sugar and coffee, but you can’t find it in yourself to care any less. “Because there’s something about you too, Miss Y/N.”

Slowly, you feel your eyes begin to drift shut, craving more than what you already have, itching to feel his lips press against yours, to feel that same fire in your feins. Of course, the next time you kiss someone would be here, underneath a giant Japanese maple in the middle of a city park, the furthest cry from a hotel balcony beneath a starry sky. But something about this is distinctly familiar in a way that you can taste, in a way that you will know once his lips press against yours. Beside you, Seokjin is barely an inch apart from you, pink lips with macaron crumbs hovering over yours. God, he’s so close. 

You want him to be closer. 

And then—

“Aw, what the—?”

The two of you jerk apart to find a giant stain on Seokjin’s shoulder, courtesy of an unknown flying park visitor who has long disguised themselves amongst the leaves of the maple, waiting for the right time to do its business. 

“Seriously?” Seokjin groans, looking down at the white and brown stain that now rests squarely on the fabric of his brand new shirt, an unpleasant splat front and center. “Thank you, bird,” he declares, throwing his hands up in the air. 

You fight the urge to laugh at how uncanny all of this is. “I’ll pay for dry cleaning.”

“No, it’s alright,” Seokjin says, grabbing a couple of the napkins from the macaron shop to dab on the stain. “A little soap and laundry detergent will be enough. No big deal.”

“I just feel bad,” you tell him. 

“Me, too,” Seokjin agrees, pressing gently against the fabric. “Great timing, too.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, dejected. 

Perhaps, if you were a little bit bolder or a little less fearful, you would try again. You would throw caution to the wind and press his lips against his, bird business and all, and never look back. You would relish in the sensation of his mouth on yours, of his hands on your waist, itching to feel that same feeling again. Itching to know that there really is someone out there who will love you. 

But you aren’t, and the moment is over. And you can’t, because you just don’t know how to. And you ponder if you will forever wonder what he tastes like, what he feels like. 

The clock strikes three. 

Some days you come in early, and some days you stay in late. 

Later than usual, that is, because you regularly stay past eight in the evening without blinking an eye. 

But some nights, you just don’t feel like going home. At least, not yet, you do. Some nights, you would rather stay here.

Home is where you’re supposed to feel at ease, where you’re supposed to relax and unwind, take off your heels and jacket, pour yourself a cup of tea. And that is what your home is to you, a place that you try to keep as free of your work life as possible. 

But sometimes, you would rather just work. 

Rather work and feel productive and get home a little bit later than go home and feel like you still have so much to do. Rather work than dwell on all of the other parts of your life that don’t involve work, things like marriage and retirement and your family. Things that you feel like you have no say in, no control over. You go home and waiting for you is another phone call from your mother telling you that you need to find someone. You go home and your father drops by to hand you a pile of late-night tasks reminiscent of how hard he’s been working lately. You go home and even if you’re all by yourself, your thoughts take control over your mind. Your worries and fears are magnified. 

So some nights, you would rather just work. 

Peering out the window of your office, you notice that the stars are just a little bit brighter out here, away from the hustle and bustle of the city. Not nearly as clear as they were on your birthday, at a hotel overlooking the town from afar, but clearer. There isn’t a cloud in the sky as the stars twinkle above you, waving hello from millions of light years away. 

Nights like these are too rare to spend indoors, huddled over your computer as you draft another email. Just because you’re still at work doesn’t mean you still have work to do. Well, you do, but you’re trying to be kinder to yourself. Trying to cut yourself a few more corners of slack. 

The rooftop is not off limits to guests. But you know a couple of secret places that can afford you the privacy you want, the space to lie back against the cement and feel the breeze tickle your skin.

When you arrive, there’s already someone there. A familiar tuft of brown hair, an oversized pink sweater. You wonder how long he’s been out here. 

“Knock knock.” Your sounds like a whisper but feels like a shout, the wind carrying the words from your lips to his ears as he turns around, hardly surprised to see you here. 

Seokjin laughs when he sees you, this fond, wonderful smile as you stroll up beside him, where he’s sat with his legs crossed on the rooftop’s edge, looking out over the distant city, the waterfront. “Didn’t think you’d still be here,” he says. 

“I could say the same for you,” you retort easily, setting down beside him. If you were any braver, you’d rest your head on his shoulder. 

You’re not. 

“You must know by now that I practically live here,” Seokjin jokes.

“Well, I’m starting to pay rent as well, so you better get used to it, don’t you think?” You tease back, looking out into the same city, illuminated by the same moon. 

Seokjin narrows his eyes. “I thought that you were going to start taking it easy on yourself,” he reminds you pointedly, one of the lasting lessons you had learned from the day out on the town. The other being not to sit underneath Japanese maple trees. 

“What can I say, I just love to work,” you say, and even though you try to make it sound like a joke both you and Seokjin know you’re not kidding. Work always has and always will be your biggest priority. Never have you lived in a world where anything else comes first. Never have you cultivated that sort of life for yourself. 

“How’s your family?” He asks, a broad question with a loaded answer. 

You don’t even feel yourself letting out a sigh until the groan leaves your lips, settling like dust. “The same as always,” you say, not even attempting to sound cheerful or happy about it. “They work me hard because they want me to succeed. And I want that, too.”

“But don't you ever want something more?” Seokjin asks, but it’s not the sort of question where he wants you to give him a yes or a no. It’s the sort of question where he already knows that you want to say yes, that there is a whisper deep inside of you that wants to have a life outside of your job, your workaholic family. But you can’t. Because your family is counting on you. 

“I just can’t let them down,” you say instead, because you and Seokjin both already knew how you were going to respond anyway. “There’s so much that they expect of me. What kind of heiress—no, what kind of daughter am I if I don’t at least try?”

“It sounds like you’ve thought about this a lot,” Seokjin muses. 

You force a chuckle. Obviously you have. Whenever you aren’t working, you’re thinking about what next you must do, what next is on your list. You’re thinking about how your family is counting on you to succeed. And how you want to do it for them. “I’ve had my moments.”

“Do a lot of people know how you feel?” He poses, looking at you curiously. 

You shrug. “Not really. My parents, no. Jungkook, sort of. Hoseok, yes. And I suppose you, now, too.”

Seokjin cracks a small smile, this lopsided grin that makes you feel like you’re missing something. “So I guess they’re secrets, aren’t they?”

“Secrets?” You respond naively, an eyebrow raised in bewilderment. 

“Secrets, huh?” He asks, sliding another inch closer, daringly so, teetering on the edge of territory that you haven’t touched in years. “I like the sound of that. Got any more for me?”

You smirk up at him, a grin playing on your lips. “Only if you have one for me in return. No freebies.”

He laughs, loud and clear, the sound ringing out in the nighttime air. “Alright,” he says, obliging. He leans in close, lips hovering above your ear. “I think you’re gorgeous.”

“Oh my God,” you say aloud, dumbfounded. “Oh my fucking God. It’s you?”

Seokjin laughs out loud at that, clapping his hands together at your positively shocked face, mouth agape like a fish out of water. He seems very amused by this, for some reason. A reason you can’t ascertain, mostly because you had no idea. “Honestly, I’m surprised you even figured it out from that. It took you forever to realize.”

You’re so scandalized you don’t even have the right words to respond. “What do you mean, ‘it took forever for me to realize’? Why didn’t you say something?” You demand. 

Seokjin’s still fighting off the remnants of his laughter, hiccups escaping from his parted lips every few seconds. “Because it was obvious you didn’t recognize me at first! And I had no idea it was you until you showed up at the hotel that first day anyway. And I didn’t want to bring it up, because I was worried it would have made things weird.”

“Look at us now!” You cry, positively mortified. Seokjin knew it was you the moment you stepped through the sliding glass doors and you still hadn’t figured it out, not even after weeks of knowing him, of getting to spend time with him. “God, I just—I can’t believe this.”

“The funny part is how I knew you had no idea who I was and yet I fell for you anyway,” Seokjin says, but his words aren’t making you laugh whatsoever. 

Your heart freezes in place as they sink in, etching themselves into your thoughts. “You—you what?”

“You befriended me without knowing that I was the man you kissed on the balcony that night, let me bring you coffee and confided in me and bought me the most expensive item of clothing that I currently own,” Seokjin says, a list of things that you loved him for all the same, “and I realized that it didn’t take that kiss to get me to fall for you. It took knowing you. Learning who you are. Who you want to be.”

You feel your heart getting lighter with every syllable that leaves his mouth, every breath that he takes. 

The truth is that no man had ever made you feel the way that the mystery man did when you kissed that night. But no man had ever loved you the way that Seokjin did. Treated you the way that Seokjin did. The kiss was a spark. 

The friendship was the fire. 

“All this time you were right here,” you muse, looking at him. Here in the moonlight you finally understand why he looked so familiar, why the light hit his skin in all the right places, why the sound of his voice had always struck a chord within you. He glows silver in the moonlight and yellow from the halo above his head, he sits beneath the navy sky and lets the starlight decorate his irises, sparkles in a deep brown ocean. “All this time, and I had no idea.”

“I’m sort of glad you didn’t know,” Seokjin admins sheepishly. “We got to fall in love another way.”

Love?

Could it be?

You’ve never truly been in love. Not the way that your parents are, or the sneaky way you see Yoongi looking at Jungkook sometimes when he’s not looking. But if it feels anything like this, anything like electricity beneath your skin and embers inside your chest, then you think you might be on your way. 

“You’re in love with me?” You ask. 

“Kinda, yeah,” Seokjin admits crudely. 

You feel your cheeks heating up, your heart bubbling within you. You lean in close, watching faintly as he does the same, eyes trained on your lips. “Do you have any other secrets for me?” You murmur, the words hot and heavy on your tongue. 

He inches closer to you, lips hovering above your own, this soft, contented smile on his face as he gazes down at you, at the way that you are beginning to love him back, at the way that you already do. 

“This.”

The words barely leave his lips before he’s pressing them against yours, and the moment you touch him you know, you know that it’s him, that it’s Seokjin, that he is the man that you have been waiting for. Immediately your body lights up, electric shocks tearing through your veins, blood set alight. He is so familiar, smells and tastes and feels so familiar, like you have known him for a thousand years and you’ll know him for a thousand more. You get the same sensation you had when you last kissed him, all those nights ago, your body going weak, your skin turning to flames, but there’s something else, too. 

A burst in your chest. A puff of smoke in your heart. 

A fireplace. A little room in your heart, just for the two of you. For you. For your love. 

You think you could get used to this. 

He pulls away after a few moments and immediately you feel dizzy, like his lips were the only thing keeping you stable, closing your eyes as you burn the feeling into your brain, memorize how his mouth presses against yours. 

When you finally open them, there Seokjin sits, kiss-drunk and in love, this goofy, wonderful smile on his face. 

“I’m still angry at you for not telling me. You could have saved us so much time,” you declare, not wanting the moment to last too long for fear that you’ll become obsessed.

Seokjin laughs, pressing a quick kiss to your nose. “Even if you forgot who I was tomorrow, I wouldn’t tell you,” he says, this stupid perfect grin on his face, this gorgeous, brilliant grin, “because I would happily fall in love with you all over again.”

God, he is so beautiful. A dream come true. A happy ever after.

The following morning your father saves you the trouble of having to awkwardly explain why you don’t feel comfortable continuing to oversee the resort hotel by letting you know that you’re welcome back in the central building in town and that he’ll have another executive replace you. Thank God, because that would have been one strange phone call. 

Luckily, when your parents do eventually meet Seokjin, they are pleased to see that he’s been a loyal hotelier to your family’s conglomerate for several years now, and that he excels at his job. You also think that your mother’s just gotten softer over the years, wishing more for you to be happy than for you to be married to someone you hate. 

It’s a good thing Seokjin’s charming. Otherwise, you have no idea what could have happened. But he’s here, and he’s with you, and your parents are happy and so are you. What more could you ask for?

“Your mom really didn’t have to throw this whole party just for me,” Seokjin whispers into your ear as the music plays on inside, this soft classical sound that Yoongi had composed not too long ago. 

You turn around to look back in through the window, watching all of the guests waltzing along to the song. Jungkook’s in the back corner, behind the grand piano, and you can see him throwing winks Yoongi’s way every now and then. The sound of the party is barely audible from out here, in the stars’ silence, in the faint way the night whispers, this distant white noise.

“Throwing parties is her thing,” you explain helplessly. “Besides, you’re part of the family now, aren’t you?”

“Hey now, we aren’t married just yet,” he reminds you pointedly. “Unless you—?”

“Only after my father’s retirement next month,” you tell him for the umpteenth time. It’s not that you don’t want to be married. It’s that you don’t have time. You’re about to inherit an entire empire. You would prefer not to be juggling two major life events at once, if you can help it. “Besides, you don’t even have a ring.”

“How do you know that?” He asks innocently.

You smack him in the torso with your satin-gloved hand, shocked. “What?”

“I never said anything,” he teases, looking off to the side far too guiltily for your liking. 

You place your hands on your hips and turn firmly to face him. “Kim Seokjin, do you want to marry me?” You demand. 

Seokjin laughs, twirling you around before pressing a kiss to your lips, the two of you giggling. “Always!” He declares to the world. “I think about marrying you every day of my life.”

You grin. “Then we will. Then let’s get married. After my father’s retirement, of course.”

“Of course,” Seokjin agrees. 

“What do you think the theme should be?” You ask, racking your brain for potential options. You like the idea of a rustic, cottage-y wedding. Or perhaps a more celestial one. Or maybe, if you wanted to go full circle, a masquerade.

Seokjin smiles. It’s clear he already has his answer. 

“How about Cinderella?”

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

[liquid-luck-00]

Meeting for the First Time

Bio!Dad Bruce

So here is my first contribution to the Bio!Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020, 

Day 1: Meeting for the First Time

@biodad-bruce-month

Next

~~~~~~~~~~

Okay granted noting seemed to ever go Marinette’s way. But this was the ultimate punch in the gut the universe could send her.

It started off as a normal Friday, 8 months since the liar came back to school. 8 months since she threatened to pull everyone, she cared about from her and leave her alone. Well 6 month ago Lila’s threat came true. Today she simply walked into class and ignore the cruel stares and watched as feet would pop out to trip her. Well she made it to her desk in one piece and that was a plus.

She was pulling out her tablet and then she heard and felt something slam onto her desk. It was a binder nearly exploding with paper’s and behind it was none other than Alya. “Hey Girl” she started trying to keep her voice friendly, but the repulsion was evident in her voice. “We were wondering if you could do us a favor” she gave Marinette a strained smile and when she didn’t answer continued “Can you help me plan Lila’s sweet 16 as a way to make up for bullying her.”

Marinette was beginning to become livid, her best friend, scratch that her EX- best friend, is asking her to plan a bully’s and a Liar’s party. No, oh Kwamii No she will not be doing that. She was about to say so when Miss Bustier walked in holding several envelopes.

“Please take a seat” Miss Bustier said and that was when Mari moved the binder as far from her as possible. “Today I have the results of the genetic testing we sent a while ago.” Everyone was beginning to murmur excitedly. Mari could only shrink into her seat. She was dreading this for multiple reasons. “Marinette would you please?”

Mari stood up and walked to her teacher took the envelopes and passed them out to the designated person. She kept hers and slipped it into her bag as soon as she got back to her seat.

She knew what it would say. She knew that it would not have what her ‘friends’ would think. It would only prove as Lila would claim that she was not actually wanted and that she was bullying her because she was loved, and Mari wasn’t. Luckily, no one noticed her as they were too excited with their own results. It wasn’t until the lunch bell rang that the dreaded moment came.

“So, Mari what were your results.” Adrien asked, once upon a time she would have gushed at him talking to her but now her crush was nothing but a pile of ashes in the wind.

“I don’t know” She replied as she picked up her bag and began to head out of the class.

“Wait you didn’t look at it” Adrien practically yelled and that got the class’s attention. He was giving her a frown and couldn’t believe that she wouldn’t even look.

“Why would you not look at your result Marinette?” Lila spoke in a sickly-sweet voice. “Are you ashamed that you have someone you want to hide from the class?” everyone began to murmur and was beginning to give her skeptical glares. As if she would attack them, almost no one noticed how Kim and Nino came around to block the door.

Mari was beginning to grow frustrated that they would not let her leave and that they continued to glare at her like a criminal. She had enough. “I WAS ADOPTED!!!” that made everyone go quiet and stared at her. “I was adopted when I was a couple of moths old and I have NO intention on knowing my biological family” she turned, and Nino and Kim were shocked that she simply slipped passed them and went home.

However, she knew who her biological father was. Well that isn’t the entire truth, she found out she was adopted when she was 10 years old. Her Biological father reached out stating he didn’t know until recently that he had a child. He wanted to get to know her and be a part of her life. However, Mari was stubborn, Tom and Sabine were her parents, so she told him she didn’t want to meet. Surprise though he was stubborn as well, he gave Mari his number and to call or message him even if it were to complain about him or anything at all. This had surprised her, and she did. She texted her father with things she didn’t feel she could tell her parents.

For the past 5 years she had told him about school, or mistakes she had made, and about her passion in fashion. He always seemed to listen and just let her rant. It was good for her. When she became ladybug, she was excited to tell him about the heroes of Paris. He sometimes never answered but she saw that he read them and that was comforting.

He became someone outside of Paris who helped anchor her. He would send her gifts for her birthday and messaged her when he could, and he really did help her though most of what was going on at school. She only knew him as Father, no name attached and that was fine. That was why she didn’t want to open the letter. She didn’t want a name to the person who cares for her as Marinette.

She went to the bakery and climbed the stairs knowing that it would be quiet. Her parents were taking a trip abroad for their anniversary along with her Nonna and that left her alone. “Tikki?” the little goddess floated up to her. “Should… should I… should I look at the names?” Mari wasn’t sure if she ever wanted to know but she also knew that she possibly would like to know.

“Mari the choice is yours but know that no one not even your father will think less of you if you never want to know.” Tikki really is always sure and can always make her feel better. Mari simply nodded went to get something to eat and stared at the letter she pulled out. As she finished her lunch and washed her plate, she turned to the letter with determination she opened it and read. Her Mother was blank, meaning that she probably hasn’t put her information on any site, but does say that she is of European decent. Then she looked at her father, he had a photo, black hair, and the same bluebell eyes. He was dressed in a suit and she looked at the name, Bruce Wayne. Next to her own photo was the photo of boy with tanned skin, black hair, and emerald green eyes, the name next to it was Damian Wayne. So, she had a brother, he looked close to her age, maybe he was the reason why her father contacted her years ago. Her father was also from European decent but that was about it. She’ll look into it more after school she dropped the envelope off in her room and left to go back.

She went back to class and sat in her seat before the bell rang so she was the first person back into the classroom. She kept her head down and didn’t look up from the sketch she was working on, she heard the whispers and caught a few glances at her, but she ignored them.

“Mari?” oh Kwamii why does he have to talk now again. She looked up and his expression softened into a small smile or more like a frown. “Do you…” he rubbed his neck. At this point everyone was staring between the two completely silent. “Do you want to talk about it?”

At this she scoffed “Why?” she was confused at this they wouldn’t talk to her unless it was to yell at her so why should she be vulnerable for them.

Alix spoke up “Why do you bother asking her anyways Adrien?” she snarked throwing Mari a glare. Adrien looked sheepish, and that was when Lila struck.

“Well if she puts it out in the open, she wouldn’t bully me, since we can help her. Make her feel loved since her parents didn’t want her” she spoke calmly and sweetly, and everyone nodded and agreed.

“Tell us Mari, you can trust us girl” Alya spoke from the class.

“Now why...” Mari was cut off as Miss Bustier entered to start the class. However, not even 10 minutes into the class the door opened. A man in a suit holding a folder came into the room.

“Miss Bustier” he asked, and the teacher nodded, so he continued. “I am sorry to disturb the class, but I need to speak with Miss Dupain-Cheng”

The teacher nodded and called “Marinette” gesturing towards the door. But of course, nothing was ever simple in this class.

“Sir if you need Marinette then you should also take Lila” Alya spoke up.

The man simply looked confused, “Why would I do that?”

“Marinette is bullying Lila so if you need Mari you need Lila as well” she huffed proud of her logic.

“I am sorry, but I really only need Miss Dupain-Cheng”

“Well whatever you need to say to her you can tell all of us”

Now the man looked exasperated and he turned towards the teacher. She nodded “It is for the best whatever you need to tell Marinette you can tell the class.” She stated.

He huffed and walked up the stairs to Marinette. “I am so very sorry for your loss Miss Dupain-Cheng. If you would please come with me, you are needed to verify the bodies.” This left the class in a quiet shock. They couldn’t believe what they just heard. Mari was wide eyed filled with tears ready to fall and was numb. She didn’t hear when everyone began to speak at once demanding answers of the man. And now Mari could tell he was mad. “Really I do not need to answer your questions as this matter only pertains to Miss Dupain-Cheng, this should have been done in private, so you” he pointed at Miss Bustier “will most likely be getting a call as soon as I will report this.” This shut up the class and he helped her up and walked her out.

Identifying the bodies was a blur in her mind, she was told they died as a riot stormed the airport on their way home. She was asked if she had anywhere to go “can you please give me a moment?” she spoke weakly and the woman who was in charge of her smiled and left her in the room. Thank the Kwamii that Hawkmoth had been inactive lately, so she was able to cry and mourn. She needed to tell someone anyone, but those she loved were gone and now what was she going to do. Tikki popped her head out of the bag and patted her leg. That was when she saw her phone, she picked it up and scrolled through her contacts. She got to the name Bio! Dad and pressed the call.

It rang a few times before he picked up. “Marinette is everything okay you don’t usually call?” she started to cry, and this put worry into his voice. “Mari sweetie what’s wrong. Deep breaths with me 1 in, hold 2, out 3. Again.” He repeated this until she was no longer gasping for breath.

“Maman, Papa, and Nonna died” she couldn’t keep strong anymore “please, please don’t leave me too.”

“I won’t Mari” his voice was the softest she had ever heard from him “I’ll be on the first plane over. I won’t leave you I promise” he hung up and she was finally starting to feel lighter. The woman from before came back.

“Are you okay sweetie?” she gave her a smile.

“I think I will be?” she gave a small smile.

“That call must have helped” Mari nodded in acceptance to the statement. “Who was it?”

“My Father, he is coming for me” the woman looked at her as if she grew another head. “My biological father. My maman, papa, and nonna that died were my adoptive family.” At that the woman gave her a sympathetic smile and a hug. “they were my family but…”

“Sweetie you don’t have to always be strong its okay to be sad.” She began to cry again. She was dropped off at the bakery by Officer Raincomprix, who gave her a sad smile and then left. Mari fell asleep in her parents’ room, Tikki curled up next to her.

She woke up the next morning and opened the Bakery, allowed in the staff, and went back to the apartment. Afterwards she went back up and curled up in her parents’ bed, but a notification on her phone made her stir again.

Bio!Dad: I’m in Paris where do you want me to meet you Mari?

Mari: The Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie

Bio!Dad: I’ll be there soon I promise.

Not long after a staff member knocked on the door, she recognized the voice. “Someone is here to see you”

“Mari can I come in?” she heard Bruce and that prompted her to open the door. She didn’t care that she looked like a mess, as soon as the door opened, she hugged him and started to cry for what felt like the hundredth time in the past 24 hrs. He murmured reassurances to her and led her to the couch.

---

If anyone had told him that he was going to rush onto a plane because of the daughter he has never met in person called him crying, he would not have given you any kind of reaction. But here he is on a jet headed to Paris to meet and comfort his daughter, after her parent’s death. Yikes that is a lot to handle.

The only positive to all this is that he left discreetly enough that he wasn’t tailed by the boys. And that was a relief, if Mari had to meet him for the first time that alone was one thing but meeting Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian would probably send the child over the edge. That is considering the fact that she actually deals with and processes emotions like a human and not like a bat.

He hadn’t even finished checking into his hotel and he was restless he knew that Mari needed him and if Bruce was anything, he was overprotective of his family. And right now, one of his family was hurt and he had to do something. He texted her and she told him to go to a bakery.

Well if she said to go to a Bakery then he went to a Bakery. He stepped in and looked around before going up to the counter.

“Excuse me Miss?” he stated towards a Girl no older than Twenty behind the counter placing pastries into the case.

“Hello, how can I assist you today?” she smiled.

“I am here to speak with Marinette.”

“Ah. Your first time here right.” He nodded his head. “That girl always forgets. Follow me” he was confused but followed the young woman through the kitchen and to a small hallway and up a flight of stairs. Where she knocked on a door. There was shuffling on the other side “Someone is here to see you” she plainly stated, and footsteps were heard near the door but just shy of opening it.

“Mari can I come in?” his question was tentative but even he was surprised by the softness of his voice.

The door swung open and there she stood. Oh, she was adorable. Her black hair was in a messy bun and had blue highlights that emphasized her bluebell eyes, which were red and puffy from her crying. She fell into him into a hug and she was so small, he had to protect her from everything. The worker left and he moved the two of them to the couch.

After a couple of hours, he got the full story and to say he was pissed was an understatement. First there was the teacher and how they had handled the situation was awful, but besides that he wanted Mari safe, but he had to know what she wanted instead of making the decisions for her. He learned the hard way with his boys.

Next

[jkstompers]

don’t go | jjk

pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader

summary: you and jungkook were simply roommates, nothing more than that. no matter how much you wanted to get to know him, jungkook always left before you were able to get any deeper than two weeks into his past. 

word count: 3.3K 

genre: roommates, established friendship, hidden feelings, angst, slight fluff

warnings: none! :) (except maybe some typos...ignore that...haha...)

author’s note: yes hi hello! i’m so sorry i haven’t posted in so long AND I WAS SUPPOSED TO POST THIS FIC THE DAY AFTER VALENTINES UGH!! I’M SLACKING, I’M SORRY!! i’ve been writing but i don’t have the motivation to finish and ugh it’s a mess in my brain right now. this fic i was able to finish though! hopefully u enjoy it ♡(ŐωŐ人) please let me know what u think! sorry again for being so inactive T口T. 

side note: this is how i imagined jungkook in this fic! his pink sweater and long hair (╯°▽°)╯ ┻━┻ .crying. 

also banner picture cred: here <3

“welcome home roomie! how was your month long vacation from me this time?” you greet jungkook when he walks into the kitchen for breakfast. he just came back last night from one of his month long rendezvous that occur way too often in your opinion. jungkook would disappear and reappear every other week or so. he never told you where he went and you never really found yourself dedicated enough to find out. 

“fun,” he answers flatly, “and to be specific, it was only two weeks.” he clarifies the time he spent away, sitting down at the island and surveying the food you laid out. you outdid yourself this morning, an array of different breakfast foods. “you made all of this?” 

you nod, “they were about to go bad, so you better finish all of it.” 

he sends you a half smile, teetering on a smirk as he takes the plate you hand him. “you doing anything today?” he asks. his fork stabs through two pancakes and moves them to his plate, shoveling bacon and eggs onto there as well. 

“on this fine sunday? sadly, no, just some homework i need to finish.” you sigh, taking a sip from your glass of water. your seat is to the right of jungkook, at the head of the island. it’s now that you really take your time to look at him. his morning look in all it’s glory. a face swollen and hair messy in the cutest way. it wasn’t fair that he was attractive during times when you’re supposed to look unattractive. his hair has grown a little longer since you last saw him, the ends of his hair touching the apples of his cheeks now. speaking of his cheeks, he stuffs them full of food and chews, his eyes wandering around the apartment until he makes contact with yours. catching you staring. 

he swallows, bringing his glass of water to his lips before speaking again, “my face that interesting to you?” the question comes with a piece of pancake on his fork, offering it to you.  

like a reflex, you open your mouth to accept the pancake. but you scrunch your nose at the remark he made, “you look different.” 

the statement is meant to be innocent, speaking of the way his hair is a little longer and how you notice a new tattoo gracing his arm. but jungkook seems to take it a little deeper, your words ringing in his head. different? does that mean you look at him different? is he prettier now? uglier? what do you mean by that? 

“do you want to go grocery shopping later?” he asks. hoping you didn’t notice the long pause he took to overthink. 

“sure,” you shrugged. a small bubble of excitement forming in your stomach. “we’re out of ice cream anyway.” you try to carry a nonchalant reaction when nods. 

when the two of you finished filling your bellies, jungkook helped you wash the dishes and clean everything up. the feeling of having him around makes you feel at ease. you wish it was like this more often. for the past two years jungkook had been your roommate, he paid his dues, cleaned his messes, and kept you company from time to time. when he wasn’t there (which was ⅔ of the time) it didn’t feel right. it would feel colder in the apartment, even if the heater was turned up. just...empty. sometimes you wished his socks or hoodies were left lying around the apartment for you to pick up and bicker with him about. rather, he cleaned every spot, no laundry to pick up, no spills to wipe, nothing. leaving no signs that he lived here at all. 

“nap for a little bit and then we’ll go?” jungkook asks, snapping you out of your thoughts. you nod, telling him to wake you up when it was time to go. 

you felt a warm hand on your shoulder, gently shaking you awake. your eyes open to see jungkook in front of you, pink sweater and black hair, contrasting perfectly in the sun that’s shining through your window. “let’s go now,” he says. 

you nod, getting up from your bed and stretching as you walk over to your closet, grabbing a sweater to wear. jungkook offers to drive, you sit in the passenger seat, mind focused on what you had to buy for the house. you make it to the store and grab a cart, jungkook following behind you, “do you need anything?” you ask. 

“some shampoo and conditioner,” he answers. you nod, moving to the bath section and waiting as jungkook chooses his items. the rest of the trip consists of you and jungkook asking each other if you needed said thing for the apartment. “we have to get more blankets,” he declares as you pass the home goods section, grabbing a fluffy blanket.

you scold him, “we have too many blankets, put it back.” he presses his lips into a tight line, showing his dissatisfaction. you both continue to walk around a little longer, moving to the food section. “see, this is what we need!” you pull out the cookie dough tub. 

“dough?” he snorts, taking a look at the bucket as you hold it. 

“it’s ready to eat cookie dough! no salmonella for us!” you smile, dropping it into your cart. jungkook doesn’t say anything after that, you knew he wanted the cookie dough too, you were just taking one for the team. 

walking a little further into the food section, jungkook taps your shoulder, pointing to the other side of the freezers. “ice cream?” 

“oh, yeah,” you nod, pushing the cart that way. you pull the vanilla ice cream out and place it in the cart, jungkook furrows his eyebrows. 

“vanilla? out of all the flavors here? really?” he stares at you, a serious look on his face. you can’t help but start laughing, his face breaks, a small smile appearing on his face but he tries to get back to a serious expression. 

“it’s good! and you can eat it with the cookie dough,” you reason. jungkook rolls his eyes, you always seem to find a way to stump him, he can never argue with you for too long, you’re just too good of a talker. he takes out a mint chocolate tub from the freezer. you don’t say anything but your face scrunches, visibly disapproving.

“don’t start, i will argue for mint chocolate until the store closes.” he warns. you decide to stay quiet, a smile cemented on your face as you make it to check out. the rest of the trip goes smoothly from there, picking up some food on the way home and then making it back to the apartment. 

the two of you decide to do some things on your own when you got home. jungkook had to clean his room and do some laundry while you had to finish your homework. a period of comfortable silence fills the apartment, unlike the cold silence that you were terribly used to. you couldn’t have felt any more content than how you feel now. 

a few hours pass before jungkook finishes his chores, you were finished with your work and were now scheduling your next week. he peeks his head into your room, coughing to get your attention. your head turns at the sound, “movie?” he suggests. 

you smile, standing from your desk. the two of you travel to the couch and plop down on the seats, your hand reaching out to the coffee table for the remote. “which one?” you ask, turning the tv on and clicking random buttons that bring you to netflix. 

“that blue one, with the blonde.” he points as you scroll through the selections. 

“mamma mia?” you snort. 

“looks interesting,” he shrugs. unfolding the blanket and splaying it over the both of you. the first fifteen minutes of the movie plays before both you and jungkook start getting hungry. a rock, paper, scissors game ensues to figure out who’s gonna get up to get the snacks. you lose, 2 to 1. 

you grumble, pulling the warm blanket off of you and moving to the kitchen. taking a bag of chips out, some candy that you had in the pantry, and then the tub of ready to eat cookie dough out of the fridge. the weight of it proving you to be one of the weakest human beings. the tub practically slams onto the counter. the lid once again proving that your strength was not that of thor’s. “jungkook!” you shout from the kitchen. 

“what?” he yells back. 

you try once more to pry the lid open, but to no avail. so you shout once again, “help me open the cookie dough!” 

you hear jungkook groan, but nevertheless he comes into the kitchen, his face silently asking what you need him to do. you show him that the lid is basically stuck and he takes it from you, trying to take the top off but he seems to struggle as well. “here, you hold and i pull,” he suggests, holding onto the lid as you hold onto the bucket part. something told you this wasn’t going to work, maybe you should have left it out to thaw first before you tried to open it. 

if someone were to walk in, the two of you would look ridiculous, but the cookie dough gives after a minute or so of pulling. the effort makes both you and jungkook stumble onto the kitchen floor. both of your laughs overlapping each other. you hold the cookie dough, “let’s stay here first, i’m tired.” your breathing is exaggerated to add effect. 

he grins, moving to grab two spoons before sitting down next to you, against the cabinets on the floor. he sticks the two spoons into the cookie dough, the two of you start digging in. “you know what would be perfect with this right now?” jungkook sits up, standing again and moving to the freezer. you raise an eyebrow, wondering what he’s got in mind. “your vanilla ice cream,” he pulls the tub out. 

“and to think you were making fun of me in the store for it,” you narrow your eyes, taking the ice cream from him. jungkook stands above you, smiling at the way you remain on the ground instead of going back to the couch in the living room. nevertheless, he joins you with his spoon in hand. 

he watches as you scoop from the container, over exaggerating a shiver when you put it in your mouth. “cold?” he asks, but you shake your head. he looks over to your arm, your goosebumps raising. “liar,” he snorts, taking off his hoodie and handing it to you. 

you give him a puzzled look, “i can just get my own—” 

“just take it,” he cuts you off, throwing the jacket into your arms. secretly, you smile to yourself, throwing the hoodie over your head and sliding it on. it smells just like him, an overbearing scent that you’ve found comforting these days. a sudden warmth rushes over you. 

the sound of the tv is in the background of your conversation, but you only pay attention to jungkook, the man who’s digging into your vanilla ice cream and feeding it to you. “you like feeding your roommates or something?” you mumble as you eat the cold cream. 

he shakes his head, a smile on his face. “you’re the first roommate i’ve had.” 

you raise your eyebrows, “like ever?” he nods. “makes sense, you don’t know proper roommate etiquette, because you’re never here,” you snort. it was a joke, but it was true. you were projecting your upset through the statement. he is never here, and you just wanted to know why. did he not like being around you? is he just using this place to shower and store his things? was that it? 

jungkook doesn’t reply to your remark. completely disregarding it when he speaks again, “yeah, i’ve lived on my own before i moved in here, i moved around a lot.” 

“why?” you ask. jungkook never answered ‘why’ questions. always said that it was never your business, that you were always so nosy. 

but this time he sighs, “not really sure.” his spoon stabbing into the cookie dough, scraping the sides for the softer dough. “never really had a reason to stay.” 

that was the most you’ve ever heard from him. no matter how much you wanted to ask why he stayed here, why he stayed with you. you knew that maybe it was pushing a little too far. one question at a time, baby steps, you tell yourself. 

but you couldn’t help but think— wish that you could be a reason to make him stay. 

“must be tiring,” you comment, taking a scoop of dough for yourself. he doesn’t reply after that, instead just smearing some of the dough on your cheek and nose. a gasp leaves your throat, wiping the stickiness from your face and transferring it to his. “you’re gonna give me acne,” you groan. 

“oh relax, i’ll help you wash it off.” he smiles as he stands up, holding his hand out for you to take. he sets the ice cream on the counter, you copy with the cookie dough. both of you travelling to the sink to wash your hands and your faces. jungkook dries his face off and stands by, watching as you splash water on your face. you miss a spot on your cheek, which he helps you wipe off. his thumb coming up and swiping against the dough. his hand is warm, if it were there any longer, you would have leaned into his touch. 

after you both dried your faces off, you both agreed that you’ve consumed enough cookie dough and ice cream for the night. after returning them to the fridge, you make your way back to the couch. the movie almost over, nearing the ending scenes when you sit down. jungkook chooses another movie, legally blonde. “lots of blonde today, thinking of bleaching your hair?” you joke, throwing a blanket on the both of you. 

“you read my mind.” he gasps sarcastically. 

another comfortable silence falls in between you both, the sound of elle woods speaking replaces your conversation with each other. you turn and watch as jungkook’s focus remains solely on the tv. you lean back into the couch, smiling to yourself. there was a bittersweet feeling to this moment. you were happy that jungkook was here, but something felt off. you felt yourself getting lonely. you feel this way every time jungkook is about to leave, it’s like you have a warning signal. like that one time last year where jungkook left for two months, december and january, the two most festive months of the year. you were out buying christmas decorations when you felt something inside of you grow cold. it’s when you got in your car that you saw his text. 

[7:58 pm] jungkook: *jeon jungkook has sent you $1,000* 

[7:58 pm] jungkook: ^^ for rent

[8:21 pm] you: leaving again? 

[8:23 pm] jungkook: yeah

[8:24 pm] you: when r u coming back 

[8:24 pm] you: i just bought christmas decor :( 

[8:25 pm] jungkook: :( sorry 

[8:26 pm] jungkook: also not sure

[8:26 pm] jungkook: i’ll be back to see them though! promise. i’ll help you take them down too 

with that, you went home and decorated the apartment with a christmas tree, a snowman, and stockings with yours and jungkook’s initials hanging below the tv on the wall. waiting patiently all december and the first two weeks of january to see if jungkook would ever come back to see how cute you made the apartment. 

he never did. 

rather, he came back the end of january, when all the festivities were done and the decorations were down. 

“where are the decorations?” he asks, shrugging off his jacket and walking into the kitchen. 

you rolled your eyes, picking up your mug of hot tea. “took them down myself, didn’t think you were coming back.” after that you moved into your room, watching tv and sulking to yourself. sure, you were upset but you shouldn’t have expected anything more from him. it’s become one of the only personality traits that you see in him: ghosting you and coming back like nothing happened. plus, it’s not like he owed you an explanation. you and jungkook were simply roommates, nothing more than that. no matter how much you wanted to get to know him, jungkook always left before you were able to get any deeper than two weeks into his past. 

you close your eyes and shake off the memory. breaking the silence when you speak, “you’re leaving soon, aren’t you?” 

his gaze moves away from the tv. his eyes meeting yours, “why do you say that?” 

you break eye contact before you shrug, “i can always feel it.” 

he doesn’t say anything after, letting you wallow in the feeling washing over you once again. jungkook was leaving again and he knew you knew. there was nothing he could say, because what did you want to hear? that he’ll stay? maybe it was because it’s only been a day, and he’s already leaving. the whole thing makes your head ache. the both of you continue to watch the movie until the end, the clock striking four in the morning. jungkook turns the tv off when you yawn. 

“tired?” he asks. you nod, standing from the couch and turning off the lights. he follows suit, stretching and trailing you down the hall. you walk into your room and lay on your bed, jungkook stays at your door, turning your light off before softly saying, “goodnight.” and then closing your door. 

sometime in the morning, around seven or eight, you feel your bed dip beside you. it’s jungkook, you can tell by the smell of his body wash. a strong fruit smell that always feels like it burns your nose. you’re barely awake, your head still lightly aching. your droopy eyelids beckon you to sleep. jungkook doesn’t say anything, instead just sitting there. 

in his head he’s saying something, apologizing to you for all the times he left you alone in this big apartment. you must have felt so alone, probably scared too. he’s too much of a coward to say it out loud. so for now, in his head, he repeats the apologies over and over again. 

“sweet dreams,” jungkook says. rising from your bed. you can feel it, the comforting weight next to you as you fall back asleep disappears. 

you blame your drowsiness for the way you reach out for his arm, gently holding his hand. he stutters in his step, looking back to you and your connected hands. “don’t go,” you mumble, eyes still closed. 

and for once. jungkook hesitates. for a split second, he wonders how it’ll feel to stay with you. 

but he doesn’t know. and he’ll never know. because in the next minute, he’s slipping his hand away from yours and grabbing his bag. walking out the door. again. 

in the morning you wake to an empty apartment. jungkook’s door is closed and it’s just you again. your feet pad against the cold floor into the kitchen, a paper on the island catching your attention. 

jungkook’s handwriting is specific, you could tell the marks apart from someone else’s. a smile spreads across your face when you read the note. terribly, your heart pounds and your cheeks flush. 

be back in two weeks. 

was supposed to be gone the entire month, but i wanted to stop by and see you. 

sorry i only stayed for a day. 

didn’t say it yesterday, but happy valentine’s day. there’s something in the fridge for you. 

take care. 

Xx, J.