#(usually its best on having to speak up on how you feel and not bottling it up like w what i do but we'll not talk abt that)

[chuuyaa-nakaharaa]

What?

*rolling on the floor, groaning.*

— @dazaii-osamuu

Not again.. Get up you idiot!

[jameui]

THE BOY NEXT DOOR

PAIRING: ENHYPEN's Park Jongseong x M!Reader

GENRE: Smut, Fluff, Angst

WARNING: i guess some intense smutty action ✨, not proof read

SUMMARY: Park Jongseong. The name is known widely as the infamous fuckboy of the 4th floor in your apartment building. He insisted he shares a room with you for the night as he is being stalked. What's the worst that could happen?

Another night where you had your headphones on for a couple of hours now, knowing that your nextdoor neighbor was at it, again. Fucking horny boys and girls in his apartment room. In fact, it seemed to happen too frequently that you pretty much caught onto his schedule when he would start having his fun that you even had your alarm for it on just in case you forget about all of it.

Damn, Park Jongseong was one horny guy.

After that, he would throw them out of his room and leave them there almost naked, giving zero shits whether they would get fucked again on their way back home. Besides, it was just a one time thing. Practically, fuck and go. No strings attached. What a heartless guy, I must say. After taking advantage of their heart, he just leaves them as though they were just toys for him to play with.

But, of course, those were only the stories you heard. You knew Jongseong more than anyone can think.

Your eyes travelled its way up to the digital clock you owned above your closet after staring at your phone, scrolling through your feed to pass time. You saw that it was already half past six in the evening and that's usually the time when Jongseong would always finish.

You wanted to make sure first that he was actually done, pulling on one side of your headphones. When you thought it was finally quiet, you slowly took it off and sighed to yourself. "Finally."

You got off your bed to move to the mini fridge you have where you stored all your bottled water, since you loved drinking cold water rather than lukewarm. Soon, there was a knock on your door which got you feeling confused since you weren't really expecting any visitor.

You heard another knock bringing you to your front door to open the door for the person outside of your room. "Who is..." You trailed off when you saw your next door neighbor standing in front of you. "Jongseong?" You heard a loud bark from beside him, later noticing his pet dog that made you coo at how the cute creature looked like.

She was wearing a pair of sunglasses which you knew Jongseong had put on her himself while she wore a very cute shirt with the tag 'I'M THE BEST DOG' written on the back of it. You kneeled down to match the height of it and started to pet her, Charlotte, as you remembered it, wagging her tail happily.

"Y/N, can you do me a favor?" You heard the taller male speak out, you looked up at him with a smile. Jongseong looked like he was hesitating to say what he had in his mind to you, judging by the way he would stumble through his words or how he would open his mouth to say something only to shut them close and repeat.

Without looking at him you give him a soft laugh, all the while giving Charlotte the best belly rub who was now lying on her back. "Speak up, Park," you said, with Jongseong hesitating for the nth time. You paused for a moment facing up towards the other male, your head tilted over to the side a little. "I can't read minds, you know," You joked in an attempt to lessen what Jongseong is feeling.

Jongseong sighed, blushing due to his embarrassment. Your words were all that he needed, pushing him to tell you the tiny favor he would like to ask of you. "Well, you see. It's er... can I and Charlotte crash at your place for the night?" Jongseong stuttered a little, trying to compromise, thinking of the right words to make it seem less inappropriate. "It's very important and I promise I won't do anything you don't want me to do," he quickly added.

You rolled your eyes at him, then standing back up knowing just how it had come to this. "Let me guess. Another stalker?" You asked him in a teasing manner, Jongseong immediately shaking his head in denial. You raised him a brow while crossing your arms.

Jongseong was still pressed on denying it, but the look on your face made him do otherwise. He could only sigh in defeat and hang his head low whilst nodding his head looking like a dejected dog, his shoulders slumped down. You gave him a pat on top of his head, practically on top of your toes.

You opened the door for him to enter, gesturing for him to get inside. "Come on in," you welcomed the male into your place, the blonde male replying with a muttered 'thank you' and a smile. Once he's settled inside, you close the door behind you. "Just don't use my apartment room as your new strip club."

Jongseong quickly snapped his head toward you and shook his head. "I promise you none of that will happen," Jongseong reassured you, while you took something out of your dresser's drawer. He hears a soft laugh from you, the taller male realizing that you were just teasing him, making him frown.

"I know. I trust you," you told him before you threw to him a spare key that you kept with you in case you lost the one you're currently using. You popped a loli into your mouth and sucked down the flavor of the sweets. "So, how'd you get in this situation? Again?" You asked him, walking towards your bed and sat on top of it.

Jongseong contemplates, before he looks back at you and your eyes stared back at him with full anticipation. He lets out a sigh. "Well, you see. Tonight, isn't that normal night," he answered, but you didn't completely understand what he meant to which you just stayed silent for, as a signal for the male to continue. "Believe it or not, I didn't bring anyone today because I'm having a test coming up tomorrow," he continued.

"That... still doesn't explain to me why you're getting stalked," you subtly persuade the male to tell you the leading cause of the unnecessary attention, but it didn't have to take any of that since Jongseong is willing to tell you everything. I mean, EVERYTHING.

He laughs softly at how impatient you are. "Just wait and listen," he mocks you in the most polite way possible, afraid that your attitude is brushing onto him. Though you don't meet often, you're the one who practically saves him from your lousy neighbors. So, it's starting to kinda reflect onto him.

You raised your arms and let the male do the speaking. "I asked to be recommended a tutor and found out one of the guys who applied is actually one of my past side flings. The same guy I told you about. The one who endlessly obsessed over me," Jongseong pointed out and you thought for a moment before you snapped your finger and points at Jongseong, your mouth agape in shock. "Yeap, yeah, exactly. I was shocked as well that he found any of my socials. It still got me thinking how he did it." Jongseong seeped air through his teeth, cocking his head to the side.

You got up from where you're sat and patted the male's back. "I may not be able to do anything about.. this. But, you'll be safe here inside," you stated out and went to pick up your towel from the rack to take a shower. "I'll only take a couple of minutes. I better not catch you peeking, Park,"

"Oh, god. Please." Jongseong scoffs at your cocky attitude, then he hears laughter from you before the door to your bathroom is shut closed. As soon as you got hidden inside of your bathroom, Jongseong hears the light taps of Charlotte's paw on the floor approaching him. She had something in here mouth. "Charlotte, don't go snooping around someone else's stuff," Jongseong gently told his pet dog who threw the item across the floor and let out a bark.

Jongseong looks at it confused. "What's this?" The male picks it up and draws it near to him. It looked like a pendant. Only it wasn't. He noticed the small crack around it, probably an opening and ran his finger over it, before it slowly opens and a music plays.

'Dear, don't fret. You are wonderful.'

It was a small holographic message. It looked too advanced, technologically speaking. Who could have made this? It's... brilliant. It feels like a memory locked in a device to help you remember. "This is... incredible. Don't you think so, too, Charlotte?" The female dog barks in reply and pants happily with her tongue out.

After a few more minutes, you stepped out of the bathroom with a fur robe on while you dried your hair with a towel. You catch the male staring, or admiring rather, at something and had a huge smile on his face. He looked very fascinated. "Whatcha got there, Jay?" The male didn't reply and continued to stare at the item. You chuckled.

You make your way towards him and only then that Jongseong is able to acknowledge your presence. "Oh, you're done? Sorry, I sorta got distracted by this. Whatever this is," Jongseong told you, the smile still etched onto his face. "It's so amazing," Jongseong makes a comment and your face splits into a smile.

You sat on the nearest chair beside the taller male and spoke up. "My dad made it for me," you shared to the male, whose mouth turned an 'o' shape in shock, turning his head to you. "He created it so I'd never feel homesick, but it only made it worse." You let out a light laugh, head hanging a little low, unable to look at Jongseong who found sympathy in you.

"You have a really great father, Y/N," Jongseong said with a soft smile. You lift your face up to look at the other male and decided that that was enough sentiment for the day and chose to tease Jongseong, again.

"And who told you to go snooping around my room?" You smirked, making Jongseong widen his eyes and point at his pet dog, who whimpers and lay flat on the floor while she covered her face with her paws, which you found incredibly cute as though she's able to understand your language. At this point, maybe she does. "I'm just kidding," you stood up from where you are sat and moved to your closet. You are about to get changed.

On instinct, Jongseong turns on his back and puts the pendant down on your table, but there is one thing he couldn't get off his mind. "I'm sorry. Y/N, just minutes ago, did you just call me 'J'?" Jongseong scrunched his face, not able to trust his ears. He might have misheard things.

As you threw on what you could see as cute in your closet, you replied with a hum. "Yeah, sorry. I should have thought first before I spoke. Does it bother you?" Your brows furrowed. You really had the the idea that you and Jongseong are already that close to be calling each other by nicknames.

Jongseong shakes his head in reply, but guessed you couldn't see. "No, not a even a bit," he answered. "It's just new to me, but I guess I'll get used to it eventually," he continued, before he heard the closet door close and the bed creak on your weight which could have only meant that you're done. "Are you finished?" He questioned for safety measures.

"Yeah. You can turn around now," you replied. Jongseong cautiously turns around, making you raise a brow. "So, you're scared of seeing a clothed body than a nude?" You scoffed.

"No, no. It's not like that. I mean you're a very close friend. And if I were to see you naked accidentally that would mean an awkward atmosphere around us," Jongseong full on explained and hearing that the male considered you as a close friend made your heart swell in happiness.

You propped yourself down on your bed with your hands. "Point taken," you told Jongseong. "By the way, if you didn't bring anyone with you tonight, then what was the noise in your room all about?" Your curiosity got the best of you as you looked over at Jongseong who had his lips pushed into a pout and a blush on his face.

Oh, it's those kind of days.

You breathed in air through your nose and tapped your feet on the floor. "Well, Jay. I have to stop by the convenience store. Anything you want?" You stood up to take out your wallet and fix a few things where your other important items are hidden.

The taller male lit up at the mention of having to go outside. "Can I come with you?" Jongseong asked, a little too excited. Almost like a kid who wants to go only for the car ride.

You turn to him, a big smile riding on his lips, before you return to securing your things. "Uhm, are you sure? Wouldn't that be a little dangerous?" You started to make your way to the clothing rack where some of your coats are hanging. "Considering you have a stalker that's on the loose," you stated to which made Jongseong knit his brows.

"Damn those pricks," Jongseong whispered under his breathe, still loud enough for you to hear though. He tried looking for excuses, but only found the shorts you are wearing. "And how about you? You can't possibly be going out with just that," he pointed out.

You looked down and faced him with an 'are you kidding me' look. "What about it? They're loose jersey shorts. You should be more concerned about yourself. You could catch a cold with what you're wearing. A tank top and thigh length shorts." you told him yet Jongseong was already on his way out with Charlotte. "What is up with this guy?"

In the end, even when you felt skeptical with other male, you still let him sleep over for the night. When you arrived, the male kept on insisting he stayed. The poor male looked shaken up by something you can't determine, so here you are in one bed with Jongseong who is barely in anything, but a boxer after you tried to resist him from sleeping on the floor and it made falling asleep hard for you.

It ain't helping either that you used to have a big fat crush on the older male when you first arrived here in this building. Keyword: USED. After you realized he had a fuckboy tendency and it just didn't seem quite right to you.

You let out a sigh and your eyes went over to the time on your clock. '2:31 A.M', it reads and all you could do is groan silently, your eyes clenched shut at your distress.

You opened the bedside lamp to at least illuminate a small portion of the room as you rubbed your stinging eyes. You feel so tired, but your thoughts are circling around your head endlessly like your own brain is trying to torture you, but you have no choice. You brought yourself onto this and now you have to pay.

You looked over to the other side to see Jongseong sleeping so soundly. Like a baby, safe in his mother's arms. At the sight, a small smile made its way up to your lips. "At least someone's able to get some sleep," you muttered out with a scoff, before you adjusted the blanket, so it covered him comfortably. He might be cold already considering that you put the temperature down a few degrees down, yet he still had the strength to get almost completely naked.

You watched him snore lightly. He looks so peaceful. Has he always looked this good in this light? You thought to yourself, as your gentle grin stayed on your face.

You gave a sigh and moved a few hair strands that got in the way of his face, but were immediately stopped by the older male who took ahold of your wrist which made you flinch. His grip was gentle.

You quickly averted your attention to his eyes which you felt started to bore holes into your skin. His face is dimly lit by the lamp on your table, but he still looked so ethereal. "Y/N, what are you doing to me?" His sudden question made you look at him confused.

He sat up from the bed, all the while the hem of the blanket falling to his waist which gave you a just right view of his structured abdominal muscles. "I... I don't understand," you replied to him, Jongseong sighing audibly loudly.

"Ever since you arrived in this building, nothing ever went well for me," Jongseong continued, that got you taken aback as you pulled your arm away from the male whose eyes lingered onto you.

You raised him a brow, feeling literally offended at what he had just said. After you let him spend the night at your apartment, this is the thanks you get from him? "Excuse me? Be at least grateful—"

"Let me finish," Jongseong cuts you off mid-sentence with a chuckle and you folded your arms on your chest and you gave him the stage, letting him hit the microphone with whatever he had to say. "See, this will sound weird, just giving you a heads up, but I just... I can't get it up," he stated.

You scoffed at him in disbelief. "And that's supposed to be MY fault?" For your entire existence you've never had a person blame you for their erectile dysfunction and hearing this from Jongseong—the male you only considered your friend right now—is blaming you that he couldn't get an erection because of you. That's just completely fucked up.

"Yes," Jongseong replied, rather more solemn than bluntly. Your jaw dropped at his reply and your instinct was to just kick him out of your apartment, but he looked like he had a lot of things going on inside his head. Before you could even reply, Jongseong faces you with a bittersweet smile riding on his lips. "Because I like you, Y/N. I've liked you since... I don't know, before we even started talking which was like almost two years ago. And I couldn't get you out of my head. I didn't want to make you feel sexualized or in any form, sexualize your image. I can't do that to you, Y/N," he said, ending with a tone that told you he is truly genuine and truly cared about you.

You could only look at him with furrowed brows, your mouth opened, but unable to make a noise. You were shocked, to say the least. In the middle of the night, all because Jongseong had a problem with his hormones, confessed to you out of nowhere. Who wouldn't be so surprised with that sudden news?

"Jay, I... uhm," you let out, hesitant.

"It's fine, Y/N. You really don't have to say anything if you don't feel like it. Besides, hearing a reply without much of any—" he is stopped the same way, but you've put a finger on his lips to make him go quiet.

"I don't need time to think about everything, Jay," you replied, a small smile on your lips. You trailed off, trying to find out how to start, but you thought giving it to him directly would be the best way. "I like you, Park Jongseong. Less than you think, though. Look, I don't know when it actually started, but it gave me the ick that you're actually a call boy, but I thought I would have done the same for a check," you laughed lightly.

"Uh, thanks?" Jongseong let out, one brow raised upward.

You sighed. "What I'm trying to say is that, I like you, Jay. I love your personality, I love the way you care for me, your dog, your family, or the way you'd always update me about—" Jongseong gave you no chance to finish what you're saying and spare you no time to adjust as he grabbed the back of your neck and planted his lips onto yours.

You were quick to process as you melted into the kiss, your eyes shutting closed while your hands instinctively found themselves in his soft bleached locks, your fingers entangled within it. Your heads and lips perfectly sync with each other, untamed thoughts circling around your head like a broken record. They were unruly, but it somehow made your heart feel full.

It's like on a winter night and you start the fireplace to warm the room. You don't even remember any sense dawning over you as you just let yourself in to the spur of the moment as though your whole life depended on it.

A few minutes in and Jongseong decides to deepen the kiss, as he slides one hand under the pit of your leg, rising ever so slowly as he lifted the bottom hem of the jersey shorts you wore, a soft moan moving past your mouth, the older male swallowing the sweet sound. You feel one side of his lips curve into a smirk, satisfied with the reaction he received from you.

You were probably gonna regret this later on; being treated like one of Jongseong's clients, but you wanted his touch. You NEEDED his touch. You craved everything he can give. You yearned for his warmth. You need him, in general.

It's like he's some kind of drug that made you suddenly feel addicted with one taste and you know for a fact that you'll never be able to get out of this sensation.

Jongseong nipped at your bottom lip, asking for permission. As a reply to his request, you slowly parted your lips for access. With not much time to lose, Jongseong (gently) delved into the depths of your wet cavern, cupping your cheeks as he started to search for your tongue.

Thinking the placement was uncomfortable, the blonde male repositions himself, so he's fully facing you, all the while never breaking contact. Your tongues danced together, both in different pace, but found a way to synchronize with each other, as though harmonizing.

Whilst your tongues played with each other, your hands went down to feel his biceps, which you found attractive with all the muscles surrounding it. Your fingers smoothly glided over the protruding skin of his arms, still too high on the kiss to even focus somewhere else other than the shape of his lips. It's like they were carved to fit yours perfectly.

For a breather, Jongseong was the first to pull away, breaking the kiss as you start to already miss the intimacy. Hearing a whimper unconsciously leave your throat, Jongseong chuckles. "In a second, angel. We still have to breathe, you know," he smirks. Right now, his sight of you just raised the gauge of his sex drive higher.

As everything had started to heat things up inside the room already, you could no longer wait. You're feeling hot and the way he looked so sexy just made you want him to just take you; make him claim you as his only possession.

While Jongseong tried to find a better position, you sunk down to become face to face with his clothed crotch. This went unnoticed by the male, not until he felt a shiver run down his spine when he felt your finger om the waistband of his boxers that he looks at you, while your eyes were already clouded with lust.

"Y/N, what are you—ah," he moans at the contact of his clothed member on your open palm, teasing him before you pulled down the only item that restricted you from its full glory, his cock coming in contact with the cold air of your room. "Shit.." The male let out when he felt your tongue line the underside of his cock.

"A-ah, Y/N. I didn't—ah," Jongseong sighed at the pure pleasure you were giving him. Out of pure desperation to aatosfy the taller male, you fit the tip of his thick rod in your mouth, which earned you a hiss from the blonde as a hand found its way on top of your hair. "Shit, Y/N, ah... stop teasing," He moaned, feeling your tongue swirl around his girth, the older male pushing his head back, feeling so much bliss.

Soon enough, your chest swelled with pride as you made a spur of the moment decision to take the whole male inside your mouth, while Jongseong hitched in place, an electrifying sensation running down his back. "FUCK!" He moaned out, unconsciously pulling at your hair.

You bobbed your head up and down, only then taking the few inches you could take inside your mouth (after a realization that he was too big to take whole) and jerked him off to compensate for it. Jongseong seeped air through his mouth, peering down at you only to see that your eyes was looking up at him as he had the perfect view of your lips perfectly curled around his cock.

He got more turned on by the sight of you and could no longer hold himself back anymore, raising his hands to hold onto the back of your head and forced his whole length inside your throat, which made you gag and choke, earning a satisfied whistle from Jongseong who chuckled and caressed your beautiful face. "I can see that you were trying, Y/N, but you weren't trying hard enough." The male smirked, then went on with his plan to assault your unaccustomed throat in a fast pace, tears forming in your eyes as they rolled themselves at the back of your head over the euphoria that Jongseong brought to you by constantly hitting the back of your throat.

"Shit, fuck," Jongseong cursed through gritted teeth, the vibrations of your moan only sending a satisfying sensation to his girthy dick, you knew immediately that he was feeling good. "So, you were waiting for this to happen all this time, huh?" He questioned you, not stopping with his erratic movements.

If you hadn't lost all your senses, you wouldn't have let yourself be treated like you're a thirsty slut, but the pleasure is unbearable and at any moment you felt like your mind will finally break.

Without thinking much about it, you nodded your head in reply and the smirk on Jongseong's face only grew wider. "Me too, babe," He said and continued on violating your mouth, resorting to a more inhuman speed and laughing darkly at how easily you submitted to him, liking the idea that if he ever felt pent he could easily just run to you and you'd just let him use you, but of course he wasn't a bad guy to take advantage of you. It's just an idea. An impossibly dream, if you must.

"Damn, angel. Didn't know your mouth could do so much wonder," Jongseong groaned, you holding onto his thighs for dear life, hoping your neck wouldn't break at how strong his thrusts were.

You knew how much Jongseong is capable of being rough with anyone, he literally goes down with any sex play—it's not eavesdropping, it's overhearing—but damn, you never knew him being this rough with you would be so fucking hot. Even having to experience it firsthand.

"Maybe we can do more than just this, Y/N. Weren't for us having to rest for our class tomorrow." It was nice of the male to think of your welfare, but it already reached this far and he'll let go with just a simple blowjob? You wished he's just joking.

Jongseong's pace went unbelievably animalistic, suddenly not caring about how you were now crying due to the pleasure, finding it fun how those tears stained your cheeks like they were the perfect decoration on your face, him abusing your throat with all the strength he had left until he started to convulse and buried his dick deep inside your throat and filled your mouth up with his cum, feeding you every last drop, not spilling anything as it ran down yoir throat.

He was a panting mess as he stared down at you, finding it adorable that you were so fucked up and was made a mess of by him.

He thrusts a few more time to ride out his high, before he caressed your cheeks softly, then pulling his now flaccid cock and puts a finger below your chin to lift your face up. "Not a single drop, darling. Open your mouth," He demanded of you, you complied as you opened your mouth with you tongue rolled out.

Jongseong, feeling satisfied, bent down to your height and kissed you on the forehead. "Well done, angel," he said, then fixed himself up and helped you up to your feet with a slight chuckle. "You're already weak to your knees? We still haven't even got to that part yet, Y/N," He teased you that immediately made you blush.

"Sh-shut up, Park," You told him, your voice a little hoarse, Jongseong being the reason why.

The next morning you woke up, with your eyes still feeling heavy and the memory of what happened im the middle of the night engraved in your head.

You soon realize that the bed was empty and the space beside you where Jongseong slept has now gone cold. It dawned over you like a bucket of cold water. "I should have known. I was just one of his clients," you mumbled to yourself.

"You're not a client, Y/N," a voice started from somewhere in the room, which startled you as you got up immediately and saw Jongseong by the window reading a book, in a bath robe.

Jongseong looks at you and you did as well. You were in different clothes. Did he get you changed? "I, uhm, I thought you left," you stumbled in your words. You didn't want to sound too desperate.

"I wouldn't. I would never," he replied, before he closes the book and approached you with I want to be your partner." Jongseong looks at you with his eyes full of sincerity and truthfulness. "If you're doubting my words, I'll prove to you by my actions. I will stop these vices," he stated out with determination in his voice.

"Jay... you weren't being stalked, were you?" You asked him which took the male aback. "You just wanted to spend time with me," you concluded that made him blush a deep red color. You found it cute at how he gets very flustered easily, before you threw your hands around him for a hug. "And I would have done the same if I were you," you said as the taller male, wrapped his arms around you to keep you close to him.

[writingoddess1125]

I just finished reading your one piece work about how many kids they have lol , and reader seemed AWFULLY happy about how many of them there is , can you do one where reader is a long time wife/partner of them and is not very thrilled, I just need angst in my life😭💀

Ohhh I love some angst!!

It's Done

Asshole Mihawk x FemReader

Angst + Saddness

Support me in Ko-Fi ....haha I'm Poor-

It was rare for you to summon him- As his wife he was used to you being one to not speak with him much. In the past you'd been a chatterbox much to his annoyance, but greatful you had quieted down over the coming years. However when the Transponder Snail on his desk informed him that you'd requested him he was surprised if not mildly intrigued.

Marching down the hallway to you as you saw you, dressed like you were preparing to go outside and eating a fine charcuterie board and sipping on one of his best bottles of wine- much to his ire.

You look up from your glass of wine. Seeing Mihawk step into the room with a bottle of his own drink of choice- Silence filling the room as he looked you over.

"You wished for me wife?" He questioned with his usual stoic manner.

"Another letter- This time a women from East Blue, it's a girl" You say blandly, Tossing the letter on the table as you set down your glass. He didn't seem amused by this, only giving a annoyed sigh and stepping forward prepared to grab the letter however you slammed a manilla envelope on top of the letter before he grabbed it. Yellow eyes looked at you annoyed-

"What is this?-"

He grumbled, you waving off his question for him to just open it. Grabbing the manilla envelope he proceeded to open it, His eyes widening at the stack of papers inside and seeing in bold letters what was written on top. Divorce Decree-

"(Y/N) What is the meaning of this" He hissed and tossed the envelope back down on the table, You pouring yourself another glass of wine.

"Divorce papers, I've already taken the liberty of filling my name on it already" He picked them up again to look for himself- seeing you had indeed signed all the papers already.

You stayed calmly, his face swirling with emotions as he held the papers with a tightened grasp. Clearly anger bubbling below the surface.

"This seems like a extreme reaction to a small issue" He stated calmly, You raising a brow at his statement as you sipped your drink and ate some more of the charcuterie board you'd laid out for yourself.

"Is it?" You question, eating some more till Mihawk reached over and slid the board away from you to stop eating as he stared hard at you- your hands quick to grab your wine glass too before he took that.

"This is a one time thing, it was a drunken-"

"87" You said calmly, drinking down your final glass of wine. He looked at you in question.

"Pardon?-"

"This is your 87th child with a stranger. 48 boys, 39 girls- 25 in the East Blue, 21 in the west, 30 in the North and 11 throughout the Grandline" You recited calmly, his face going to one of shock at hearing your words so blandly spoken or that you knew to the agree of unfaithful he was.

"So what was that about this being the final one?" You ask, standing from your chair to knock the crumbs off your outfit.

"It is natural in wanting to spend time with someone who can provide-" He stated as he watched you prepare to leave.

"Well then its natural that I want a divorce, it's not MY fault that you can't go a few days without fucking some stranger or that you seem to like to like to get every person you meet pregnant" You hissed, Mihawk glaring at you.

"And It is not my fault you are barren- So dont blame me that I spread my legacy elsewhere" He shot back, His words like that final knife to your heart as you stood in the doorway. Mihawk regretted those words the moment they left him, sighing as he rubbed his temple his lips feeling like fire for saying such a thing.

"That.. isnt what I ment I apo-"

"Dont- You're right it's not your fault... just how it's not my fault you're a cheater bastard. We are done Mihawk. My stuff has already been packed and sent away, I will he out of here by tonight" You stated calmly and leaving your library one last time-

"(Y/N)! This is utterly childish and ridiculous" He angrily yelled as he followed you down the hallway. You just grabbing the last suitcase you had set by your former bedroom door.

He grabbed your wrist suddently to stop you from stepping further but you spun around and smacked him hard. The wedding ring still on your hand slicing him across the cheek, as he quickly released your wrist to touch the bloody cut.

You slid off the ring, ignoring the tinge of his blood in it and slammed it into his free hand.

"You will never touch me again-" You all but hiss, disgust dripping from your lips like a venom that shot through his vains.

"(Y/N) it is ignorant to give up an entire relationship for a character flaw- I've been a good husband in other regards" You couldn't help but snort a laugh at this-

"You a good husband? Please tell me, when is my birthday? When was the last time we had sex? Last time you kissed me, Hell last time you even uttered the words I love you? Oh here's a good one when did we get married?" You ask him, He opened his mouth but he couldn't think of an answer to any of those- You smiled sarcastically.

"I thought so... By the way, Our wedding anniversary is today"

His heart sank.. was it really?... he relooked at the divorce papers to see the date of Marriage and he felt a burn of guilt in his chest at the sight- indeed it was today.. 20 years to the day.

He opened his lips to try and conjoure up words to wipe away his actions but he couldnt.. instead looking to your eyes and that's when it hit him- He was no better then a stranger to you seeing the indifference in your gaze at him- Not angry, not sad but just.. indifferent like he was just another person to you.

Sensing that he now understood the true gravity of this all you nod, Grabbing your coat from the rack and slipping it on and set down your copy of the keys to the manor on the side table.

"...You have a wonderful rest of your life Mr. Dracule" You say sternly before walking out of the manor, the Warlord only standing there in a state of shock as his world suddently got so much darker.

[confessedlyfannish]

DP x DC Writing Prompt #8

The day Bruce Wayne knocks on her apartment door Sam knows it's going to be a doozy.

"Mr. Wayne, I really do hope no one saw you," she says, ushering him in. "And for the record, a text ahead of time would be appreciated."

"I parked the car a few streets away," Bruce says, sticking a finger in his heel to peel his polished leather shoes off. Sam raises an eyebrow. "It's a sedan, not a Lamborghini."

"You own a sedan?"

"Taught Dick to drive in it...after he crashed the Lamborghini."

Sam snorts despite herself. The charm Bruce Wayne exhibits would usually rub her the wrong way, too reminiscent of wealthy men that feel comfortable placing a hand on the small of your back at a crowded gala, but Bruce is honest enough about his playacting that she has come to find its insincerity comforting. She's actually sought him out more than once, leading to several annoying headlines that can't seem to decide if she's aiming to date him or one of his eligible sons. None of whom are eligible by the way, as they are a) taken, b) legally dead, c) practically a minor, and d) an actual minor.

Sam's generational wealth is peanuts compared to Wayne Industries, so naturally her parents have been thrilled and rooting for option c.

"I also didn't want Danny to see I'd texted you. Or force you to lie to him."

Sam doesn't quite tense, but it's a near thing. She does slide to the other side of her kitchen island, under the context of finishing prepping her feta fried eggs, laid on a bed of smashed avocado and warm tortilla. She pulls a bottle of crunchy garlic oil out of the fridge and drizzles hot red crisps across the runny yolk. She takes a bite, chewing thoughtfully, not so much as offering him a glass of water.

"You realize, Mr. Wayne, I have no intention of lying to Danny now?"

Bruce sits at the stool on the opposite side of the island. "I understand. And if you want to ask Danny to return home before we continue, I'd understand that as well. I didn't mean to discomfit you--"

"Please do not lie to me now, Mr. Wayne," Sam says, rolling her eyes. "By your own admission you showed up at noon without warning knowing my superhero boyfriend wouldn't be present. If I am discomfited, all the more likely you get your information, right?" Golden yolk runs down her fingers, and she sacrifices it to the napkin rather than lick up her arm in front of her boss, with no small amount of resentment. The yolk is the best part.

"Get to it then," she demands.

Bruce straightens in his stool, chin raising and firming in a jawline she most often sees under a cowl. His eyes attempt to pin her in place, but Sam has stared the Master of Time in the face and demand he reschedule so she is built. different. She takes another bite of egg taco.

"I was not aiming for you to feel threatened, and moreover, I doubt you could be."

Except a smart person should always feel threatened by a threat, no matter their capability of handling one. It keeps them alive.

"Can you tell me how I'm not like all the other girls after lunch? You'll spoil my appetite."

Bruce clears his throat. "I'll get to the point--"

"Thank you."

"--Danny has been exhibiting paranormal behaviors beyond his baseline. We welcome all biologies; human, alien, and paranormal alike, but I have observed actions unlike what he had previously established as his, for lack of a better word, 'normal'

"I want to make sure he is not experiencing any unwelcome outside influence. Or, if this is merely a facet of his evolution, I'd like to know if this is something we or his family should be monitoring."

Sam has been an eco-consultant with Wayne Industries and unofficially, the Batfamily, for half a year now and this is the most she's ever heard the man speak in one sitting.

"Wow," she says. "How long have you been rehearsing that one?"

"A while." Bruce grunts, voice finally taking that final drop into Batman's gravelly rasp. "I see you're not surprised by any of this."

"No, not really," Sam says. She pours him a tall glass of lemon water from the pitcher, freshly sliced that morning, and he takes a polite sip.

"So what can you tell me?"

"Probably a lot. And Danny would probably prefer that I do, knowing him, the big baby," Sam sighs. "Listen Mr. Wayne, I can appreciate that you came here from a place of caution rather than intrusion. And if Danny was undergoing something negative or from an 'unwelcome outside influence' that would be the right call, and I, albeit begrudgingly, encourage you to do so in the future."

"But he's not."

"He's not," Sam confirms. "And in fact, I think he could really use someone to talk to about it. Outside of his family."

"I see..." Bruce says, shifting.

"If you want to tag team this one with one of the higher EQ players, such as Superman, I give you permission." Sam does not think she's imagining that slight sag of relief.

"Thank you," Bruce says, sliding off the stool. "I don't suppose you have material we could consult...?"

"Actually yes, I happen to have a pamphlet right here. 'So your ghostly body is changing, and how.'"

"You're being more sarcastic than usual."

"You interrupted my lunch, Mr. Wayne."

[luna0713hunter]

hii young!luffy x young!reader fluff inspired by the kiss scene in my girl? honestly u don't don't have to know the film you can just search up the scene! also it doesn't even have to be fully accurate all I'm really asking for is their first kiss

Author's note : hello there!so abt this request;i havent watched my girl ,but I've searched abt it and gosh they're so adorable?!?!maybe I'll watch it this week!

My Girl

Monkey d. Luffy x reader

Warnings : lots of fluff,young!Luffy x young!reader, you're both 10 btw

*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘

Your mother always used to tell you that you'll find your true love when you grew up.

But you found love a little bit too early.

It was a sunny summer day. Those days where the weather is both too hot to go outside but staying inside is not an option either. So with small hands interlocked,you and your long time best friend,Luffy,go to your usual hanging spot : Shanks' ship.

The crew were all outside, perhaps that was the reason why the two of you had entered without anyone telling you that you're too young for being on a pirate ship. But when you sit down on the wooden surface and spread your small picnic basket that Makino had packed,you give Luffy a blinding smile and offer him a small sandwich.

And true to his fashion ,Luffy swallows whole the entire piece in one go.

You huff and smack his hand away from your share,and glare at him, "dont eat so fast or you'll get an stomachache!"

"nuh uh!i can eat the whole basket and still be hungry!"

"well too bad!!Makino packed this lunch for both of us!so you have to share!"

Luffy pouts but complies, choosing to grab an apple instead and munch on it slower this time.

There's a moment of silence before Luffy opens his mouth and the world stops.

"hey,y/n?'

"yeah?"

"have you ever kissed anyone?"

You loudly choke on your food.

Luffy jumps up and gives you a bottle of water,and with concerned eyes,rubs your back.

"you alright?!"

You cough and try to wipe your eyes from the tears that had formed.

"w-why would you ask that?"

Luffy sits across you crossed leg and shrugs.

"i saw some couple kissing in the bar last night,and it got me thinking," he then looks at you and grins, "so?have you?"

You shake your head furiously as you feel your cheeks heating up with each passing second, "of course not! I'm only ten!"

"but Makino says love has no age."

Your eyes widen and your mouth hangs open, "L-love?" You swallow and your voice suddenly drops;like you're scared somebody will hear you, "who do you love,Luffy?"

And he answers without missing a bit that it gives you whiplash.

"you of course!who else!?"

His answer makes you shut your mouth so fast,that you cringe upon the sound of your teeth clattering. You cant speak;what can you say to his confession? But when you see him staring at you expectedly,you swallow and gather your courage to speak again.

"Luffy," you wet your lips before continuing, "i think loving someone romantically is different than... loving your parents or..Shanks and Makino."

Luffy tilts his head,and you smile upon seeing his adorable puppy like eyes.

"but y/n,i know i love you. Why would i mistake it?"

"how do you know it's different?"

Luffy folds his arms against his chest and takes a moment to consider your question.

"its like," he wonders aloud, "when i see you its different from when i see Shanks or Makino. My heart gets all..mushy mushy,"

"mushy mushy?!"

"Yeah!" He grins and nods rapidly, " it beats really hard,and i want to share my foods with you!!i never want to do that with Shanks or others!!"

And to Luffy, sharing food is a big deal.

You shyly glance away and start fidgeting with your fingers, "so... you've been thinking about kissing..." You swallow, "me?"

Luffy nods again and skootched toward your until your knees are pressing together.

"do you...want to try it?"

"kissing?"

"mhm."

You give him a shy smile and with a final nod,Luffy leans forward with his eyes squeezed shut,and presses his lips clumsily against yours.

The kiss is sweet and short;the taste of the apple that he had earlier lingering on your lips even when he pulls away.

You wish you could taste it once again.

"so," Luffy nervously bounces his knee, "how was it?"

You giggle and leave a small peck on his nose,making him scrunch it up.

"it was...sweet."

"sweet?"

"yeah. I liked it."

The words seemed to make Luffy beam,as his grin becomes impossibly wider.

"I'm glad!!!"

Before either of you can say another word, there's the sound of another pair of footsteps and soon, Shanks' playful voice calls out for the two of you.

"you kids better not be here again!!"

And when Luffy takes your hand and with giggles ,runaway from the ship,you cant help but to feel your heart beating loud,and being warm just like the summer sun.

-

"hey," a snap of finger in front of your face brings you back from your daydreaming, "whatcha thinking about?"

You smile at the boy in front of you;his taller form and muscular arms and shake your head.

"just remembering some good memories."

"oh?am i in any of them?"

You glance at him and when you see his warm chocolate brown eyes,you close your own and sigh contently.

"yeah. You're the main character in all of my dreams and memories."

[ailawritesfics]

✎ cw: 18+ minors dni, somnophilia, noncon, male masturbation, hawks breaking into ur apartment, yandere-ish behavior, mentions of stalking

✎ this is a chapter from my on going story in ao3 i wrote a little while back

There was something thrilling about being a hero but participating in morally questionable decisions. An occupation that's supposed to be a symbol of peace and prosperity, as the number 2 hero he's bound by his duty and obligation to the people of Japan. And yet Hawks finds himself deviating from his usual path. When he's supposed to be back at the agency taking care of paperwork, he readjusts his schedule to fit a new routine.

He is aware that what he's doing is not normal by any standards but his own.

His profession required him to do many things, some of which he's not proud to admit, but was necessary for the greater good. Or at least that’s what he tells himself in the mirror every morning.

Landing on a balcony in a 4-story apartment complex was a different story altogether. Especially so when he knows who lives in this apartment. There was a pause in his movements when his feet touched the floor of the balcony, a hitch in his breath and a voice at the back of his mind telling him to reconsider but also willing him to proceed further.

He forced himself forwards, grabbing the handle of the door. To his surprise, it swings open, allowing him access into your abode. The last time he tried, the door was locked and he had forgotten to bring a lockpick with him. Breaking the wood or the glass would attract too much attention and reveal himself too quickly, so he had opted to find a window big enough to fit through.

Stepping into your apartment, he takes in the surroundings. Still the same as when he first paid a visit, everything in its place. The only mess he can see is the used mug and spoon you had left on the table. The apartment was decent, decorations from your college years and shelves with knick knacks left to collect dust. You haven't gotten the chance to do much general cleaning but he chalked that up to your busy work schedule.

A light snore stops him in his tracks, following the sound he peers over the back of the couch and sees you laying there asleep with a bag of opened chips spilling its contents on your lap. There's a pill bottle in your hand, the label shows the word Melatonin in bold font.

You looked peaceful, steadily breathing and hair slightly disheveled from the way you're resting your head on the armrest. Hawks moves to stand in front of the couch, bending down to get a closer look.

“Hey there, baby bird, you're sleeping soundly, aren't you?”

He can't help but chuckle, already feeling relieved upon seeing you. The stress from today's work and grueling training forced on him by the Commission was all but forgotten. Even the momentary wariness and frustration from the villain fight he had felt earlier dissipated.

Why?

The thought came suddenly. Hawks' smile faded when that one word echoed in his mind, a constant question plaguing him but pushed aside to maintain a semblance of a fantasy he wishes to perceive. He remembers all the people he had approached in the past, conversations and memories left on a bitter note all because the Commission forced him to cut ties with them one way or another. How is this time any different?

He thought it was weird how the Commission hadn't said anything yet about his contact with you, but he figured it might have been due to his current track record. He hasn't done anything to rebel, been a loyal follower committed to his job. But he knows that won't last long. They've given him reasons to cut ties for less than disobedience.

Was it because of the Hero Commission? He thinks back to all the times he was summoned, their voices ringing in his ears when they would speak of it as if it was in his best interest as a hero but really, it was the fear that their prized investment was slipping through their claws. He could almost recite their excuses in order. Is he here, in your apartment, watching you sleep in the late hours of the night because the Commission kept depriving him of personal relationships, whether that's platonic or romantic, whenever they see fit and never letting him learn how to develop healthy attachments?

As the never-ending questions plague his mind, he rises to his feet with you in his arms with the intention of moving you to the bed. It wasn't an easy transition, and you almost woke up, but he managed to make his way into your bedroom, using his feathers to untuck the sheets. The mattress sinks under your combined weight and as Hawks hovers over your upper body, hands propped on either side of you, he remembers part of the reason why he wasn't allowed to maintain any semblance of a relationship apart from his connection to the HPSC.

He's not well. Far from it.

If the stalking, obvious lies, blatant breaking and entering, and invading your most personal space without your knowledge wasn't proof enough of his mental well being, then the way he's looking at you now, his mind swirling with thoughts he swears will never reach the light of day is a clear indication.

No sane man would eye an unconscious person with a glint of hunger reflecting in their eyes. For a moment, Hawks recalls that soul crushing feeling of shame he's accustomed to weighing on his conscience, but the guilt was short lived, replaced with the tantalizing pull of desire.

He likes to think he has some restraint. A thin rope that's barely holding on representing his will to hold himself back from lines he knows he shouldn't cross but is so tempted to.

Morality and conscience thrown out the window, he indulges in his desires, consequences be damned.

He'd been deprived for too long and with the opportunity presented before him, he'd be mad not to take it. How long has it been since he last stood this close and intimately to another person? The most he can recall is the harsh and cold bodies of the drones and machines the Commission would force him to compete with, hard metal bodies crafted from steel. He can still feel the bruises he sustained from the most recent training session where he was left to fend for himself in a weather simulation projecting the harsh winter, cruel summer, and unrelenting storms. Physical human contact was what he craved most.

A hand runs down your torso, trying to feel the texture of your shirt through his gloves. He slides his hands under, the warmth of your skin permeates through the fabric of his gloves and he contemplates taking it off to feel you more closely. A reasonable thought pushed to the back of his mind and he's hovering over your unconscious body, sitting on his heels after kicking off his shoes.

Your shirt rides up, just barely showing your chest and Hawks’ breath hitches as he tugs it higher, revealing your bare chest to his wandering eyes and desperate hands. He doesn't know how much melatonin you took but he assumes the amount is enough to keep you knocked out through this whole ordeal, considering the fact that he had moved you from the couch to your bedroom, and is currently straddling your hips, and yet you're still fast asleep.

He props himself on one elbow, leaning close enough to breathe in your scent. It's addicting, the way he can't help himself when it comes to you. For someone he insists is a way to cure his boredom, he sure spends a lot of time with you even after promising to himself he wouldn't get attached. The threat of the Commission meddling with his connection with you still hangs in the air.

He had impulsively promised to take you out on the one day off he's been given in the last 5 months. Why? What made him think that was a good idea? He thinks back to his early days of childhood, every move and action was monitored and controlled behind the scenes. His decisions weren't his to make in the first place so when he gained the freedom to decide, however small, he took it without hesitation, taking what was supposed to be the norm for an ordinary person but a foreign experience to this caged bird.

Physical contact isn't new to him, it just doesn't happen frequently enough for him to be able to restrain himself.

He pulls back from you to take off his gloves, using his teeth to pull it off his hand. There wasn't much thought behind his next actions, his free hand moving to undo his pants and pull his cock free of his boxers. He bites his bottom lip, hand wrapping around himself and eyes locked on your sleeping face. A shudder laced with pleasure sends him spiraling back into his thoughts, less sensible than before, but he's too far in to retreat now.

He imagines how you'd react if you were to open your eyes now and see him, the sight of him jerking off to your unconscious body unable to hold himself back. In the back of his mind there's a voice, a voice of reason is what's expected but instead it encourages him to continue, to take what he wants.

And so he does. He moves his hand faster, breaths coming out in sharp gasps and suppressed groans. Sweat forms on his nape, he can feel it dripping down on his skin, muscles tensing but it feels so good.

A curse under his breath and his head tilting back, he bites on his bottom lip, imagining each drag of his hand is from your own fingers wrapped around his cock, or better yet, he imagines how good it would feel to have your warm mouth around him. Was it ethical, how he's masturbating in front of a sleeping person and imagining sexual fantasies of a person he swore would only be a source of entertainment for him, to pass time? Does he care?

Not particularly.

Hawks drops down on his elbow, once again breathing in your scent, inhaling deeply. Why do you have to smell like his favorite shampoo’s scent, fruity yet there's a hint of floral he adores so much.

His body tenses when he hears a light groan come from someone other than him, he knows he's risking it by continuing but somehow it turns him on even more. He watches you stir in your sleep, you try to change positions but find it rather difficult with the man hovering above you. He watches you intently, observing every little reaction you give him and just as you turn your head to one side, he leans into the sleeve of his jacket biting on the fabric to suppress any noise.

White ropes of cum drip from his tip and hand, remnants of his ministrations are left on your bare chest and stomach. Hawks’ breaths come out in huffs, breathing heavy as he tries to collect himself. He props himself up on both arms, not caring for the stain he might leave on the mattress. A thought screams at him in his post-delirious bliss: how the fuck did this happen? How did he let it happen?

And why aren't you awake?

He unconsciously grips the covers in his hands, fingers digging into the mattress as cold sweat forms on his temples. He's gone and done it, he crossed a line he knows he shouldn't have. He did it again. Again.

He raises a hand to grab you gently by the chin, tilting your head to face him.

He doesn't regret it.

Maybe he'll come visit you more often. After all, he already knows your schedule by heart. And even if there's a change in your shift, he'll find a way to know about it beforehand like he already did before. He has a date with you tomorrow, he smirks at the thought, only a few more hours until then. Perhaps he was wrong in considering you as a means to an end, to cure a boredom he's been desperate to climb out of. There's definitely something there, interest or intrigue, or something more.

Until the Commission meddles with his personal life again, he might as well have some fun and indulge himself.

[lividstar]

ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤTHE CITY OF LOVE

ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎ Chapter Eleven: You Wonder why I’m Bitter

ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ < previous | next >

masterpost

៚ wc: 8.2k (total: ???)

៚ fluff, angst, fashion designer!hongjoong x model!reader (ft. personal assistant!seonghwa & photographer!wooyoung), slowburn, strangers to lovers, soulmates au if you squint, do french people actually say bonjour irl?

៚ playlist !

៚ Alone and aching for the connection that once felt so natural, you reluctantly turn to an unlikely companion: Pompidou, who listens to you pour out all the longing you’ve fought so hard to bury. While you grapple with the emptiness left by Hongjoong’s sudden withdrawal, he, too, finds himself lost, wrestling with the very feelings he’s tried to deny. Haunted by memories and choices he can’t quite reconcile, Hongjoong is caught between the familiarity of the past and the confusing reality of the present.

a/n: was supposed to upload this on the 27th cause that’s my birthday but i just can’t wait any longer 😅 keep an eye out for the littlest of details because nothing is as it seems in this chapter :P lmk what you guys think!

tags: @beabatiny @babymbbatinygirl

First of all, I hate myself. Second of all, I hate myself. Oh, and did I already mention that I hate myself? I just don’t know what to do anymore! It feels like it’s been a whole decade ever since I last picked up a pen to scribble on this godforsaken journal… I wish I could just go back to the time I was writing the page behind the one I’m writing on right now and just cancel my flight to Paris. This is all so frustrating, you know? Fashion Week is nearing, and I am not prepared at all—no, not even a little. I’m supposed to be spending my hours inside the studio practicing runway walks and testing out facial expressions, but no! I’m way too afraid of crossing paths with Hongjoong to even think about the consequences of not taking my preparations seriously! And speaking of Hongjoong…

He’s driving me to the edge of my sanity. I don’t know what’s going on with him—okay, scratch that, I definitely do. I just don’t get why he’s acting so avoidant all of a sudden… I mean, like, okay, I would understand his unprovoked need for distance between us if we actually kissed that night, but we didn’t. The farthest step we were able to take was just him holding onto the sides of my face and me looking at his lips like I’m a starved dog looking at its first meal of the day before Wooyoung fortunately interrupted us—so why is he acting up?

He’s like one of those girls you’d befriend in highschool who’d show up on the hallways suddenly judging your entire soul on a random Wednesday, and I don’t like it. Seriously, what’s his problem? He made me accustomed to his usual sweet and caring persona, and all of a sudden, he wants to act like this? What have I done wrong? Wasn’t it literally him who initiated the… whatever I’m supposed to call what happened that night?

I’m just concerned, you know. It’s been two weeks, and yet he’s still avoiding me like I’m the plague. I haven’t been receiving any messages from him at all lately, either. Even Madame Dupont is asking me why she no longer sees the “small young handsome boy” waiting for me outside the apartment building while leaning against his car. Wooyoung’s been trying to persuade me into confirming his theory that Hongjoong and I are going through a lovers’ quarrel for three days now, too. And guess who’s the most troubled of them all? Seonghwa. He’s been doing his best to put us back into speaking terms for a while now, and I don’t know why—I swear I didn’t ask him to do that.

Everyone is worried. Everyone but him.

You know, this brings me back to that unrecognizable faceless guy I see in some of my blurry flashbacks. I remember him asking me how long I’ve been bottling up my emotions, and when I told him I’ve been doing so for pretty much my entire life, he told me to consider writing in a journal.

What does the unrecognizable dude have to do with Hongjoong and his unreadable behavior? Nothing.

I just noticed that it’s been a while since I last wrote a journal entry, and… it’s been a while since I last let my emotions unravel. I remember the words that came out of his mouth that day.

“When you can’t figure out what you’re feeling, or if you need to let it all out, the only thing you have to do is pull this out along with a pen, and from then on, you can start writing away. Let yourself get lost in your own world.”

You know what, in a way, I think he and Hongjoong actually have something in common. I know I can’t say much because I only have one memory of this guy, but he spoke with as much wisdom as Hongjoong does. Also… “let yourself get lost in your own world.” That’s honestly the most Hongjoong-ish advice someone could ever give, given how he himself gets lost in his own world of artistry, too.

I just wish he’d stop ignoring me. I can’t help but feel like this is all somehow my fault… Am I just hurting myself by expecting things to suddenly go back to the way they used to be?

As you closed your journal with a weary sigh, your eyes drifted to the dim glow of your bedside clock reading 2:37 a.m. The room was silent, save for the soft hum of distant traffic, yet you felt far from at peace. It was a night for sleep, yet your mind wouldn’t quiet; thoughts of Hongjoong twisted and turned within you, refusing to settle.

“Why does it feel like this?” you murmured, pressing your palms into your face, as if that could somehow soothe the ache in your chest. You longed for comfort, for answers, even for a brief respite from the confusion that had become your constant companion. “If only that faceless guy could telepathically whisper some words of wisdom to me right now…”

Two weeks had passed since you last shared any words with Hongjoong—two weeks where every glance, every passing moment, felt laced with an unspoken tension that only deepened the rift between you. It was all becoming painfully real, the shift so clear to everyone around you. But no one knew the truth—the moment you almost kissed, the silent proximity that had left you dizzy and wondering. Even Seonghwa, in his genuine concern, couldn’t know the pang of vulnerability that had filled that night, the fear and excitement mingling as you’d come closer than ever before.

Your mind flashed back to the other day when the ache of his absence had been sharpest. You passed by him in a hallway, hoping for a flicker of his usual warmth, his soft gaze that once reassured you of your place in his world. But he’d brushed past with such indifference—not even nodding to acknowledge your presence, a chill in his demeanor that left you hollow. And then he was gone, his footsteps echoing down the corridor, leaving you alone with a rising sense of loss.

Without thinking, you picked up your phone and opened your gallery. Photos of Hongjoong filled your screen, and your eyes drift over candid snapshots—some of you and Hongjoong working late in the studio, others of him laughing or looking thoughtful, moments caught by your camera that now feel like glimpses into another lifetime. There’s a picture of him outside your apartment building, waving you goodbye one evening. Another shot of him hunched over his desk in concentration, unaware that you’d snapped the photo from across the room. Then, there’s a particularly precious one of the two of you, taken in his office—which was likely Wooyoung’s doing.

As you scroll, an ache blossoms within you, spreading in slow, insistent waves that make your chest feel tight. You can feel the sting of tears welling up in your eyes, and it catches you off guard. Why now? Why does he, of all people, have this power over you? You swipe at the tears, frustrated by the sudden swell of emotion. It’s not supposed to be like this, you tell yourself. Hongjoong is supposed to be your friend, your mentor, the one person in Paris who helped you find your footing when everything felt foreign. But as the images blur beneath the glisten of unshed tears, you can’t help but wonder if that’s all he’ll ever be—someone whose warmth once felt like home, and whose absence now feels like a loss you’re not ready to face.

The soft scratching at your window pulls you abruptly from your thoughts. For a moment, you freeze, glancing back at the phone you’d just placed on your desk. Carefully, you grab your journal—a flimsy defense, maybe, but it’s better than nothing. Heart pounding just slightly, you step forward, inching closer to the window.

When you peek over, you’re met with a familiar sight: Pompidou, the resident stray cat who had made the apartment building his kingdom, sits with one paw pressed to the glass, his usual unamused expression aimed your way.

You exhale a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, feeling the tension drain from your shoulders as you let out a soft laugh. Setting your journal on the bed, you reach over to open the window, letting him slip inside with practiced ease. He slinks past you with the air of someone who owns the place and makes himself right at home, hopping onto your bed and circling until he’s claimed his spot in the center.

You sit beside him, running a gentle hand over his soft fur. It’s strange how much you missed him. For the past few weeks, your room felt emptier without his occasional visits—without that extra little creature who just… understood you, in a way. And now, with Hongjoong’s absence haunting you, Pompidou couldn’t have come at a better time.

The thought hits you harder than you expect: here you are, at your lowest, relying on a cat for comfort simply because the one person you’re used to confiding in has become distant, almost like a stranger. The ache in your chest intensifies, and before you know it, you’re lying down next to him, resting your head on the bed and gazing at his calm, indifferent eyes. It feels silly, pathetic even, to be speaking your heart to a cat, but in this silence, with no one else to turn to, you let yourself unravel.

“Pompidou,” you whisper, voice barely holding steady, “I… I don’t know what I did wrong. Everything was fine, wasn’t it?” Your fingers tremble as they thread through his fur, a warmth grounding you in the midst of your unraveling. “I don’t know how we ended up here. He’s always been there for me, and now… it’s like he’s vanished. And I’m trying, I really am, but every time I reach out, it’s like he’s miles away.”

A sharp breath catches in your throat, and you look up at the ceiling, fighting against the tears stinging your eyes. “It’s probably all my fault,” you confess in a whisper that breaks. “Maybe I was too much, or maybe I should have… I don’t know, said something differently, done something better. Maybe I shouldn’t have invited him to eat dinner that night so that…” A bitter chuckle slips out as you squeeze your eyes shut. “It’s funny, you know. All my life, I’ve been terrified of being alone, of people walking out… and now here I am, trying to be okay with him pulling away like it’s nothing.”

Pompidou shifts slightly, his warm body pressing into your side, a small reminder that he’s there, and he’s not leaving. You let your hand drop to your chest, feeling the dull ache that’s settled there. “I just miss him, Pompidou. I miss the way he used to look at me like I mattered. Now, he can’t even look me in the eyes. And I don’t know why I’m clinging to that, why I’m hoping he’ll suddenly turn around and go back to being who he was.”

The silence swallows you for a moment. “Maybe it’s because, deep down, I’m still the same pathetic teenager from Arcadia Bay who’s scared that she doesn’t deserve anything better. That she’s always going to be left behind, and this… this is just proof.” Your voice falters, words thick with pain you can no longer hold back. “And if he leaves, then maybe it’s what I deserve.”

“Maybe I was the one who left him in an alternate reality, and this is the price I have to pay for it,” you joke, but it only feels like a pathetic attempt to make yourself feel better.

The pain is so sharp it almost feels physical, a hollow ache that makes every breath feel heavier than the last. You close your eyes, fighting against the helplessness clawing at your insides, but the words keep pouring out, jagged and raw, as though voicing them might lessen the weight—even if it’s only to a cat who can’t respond.

“Do you know what’s worse?” you whisper, fingers clutching the fabric of your shirt over your chest as if you could hold yourself together by sheer will. “It’s that I can’t even be mad at him. I want to be—believe me, I’ve tried. I tell myself he’s the one pulling away, that he’s the one who’s changed, but then I start wondering… what if I pushed him to this? What if I’m the reason he’s slipping through my fingers?”

A soft tremor runs through your hands, and you curl them into fists, teeth gritted as you force the tears back. “I keep thinking… maybe he’s right to distance himself. Maybe there’s something broken in me, something that just drives people away. And the worst part is, I keep wishing he’d come back, like I’d somehow be enough if I could just—”

Your voice catches, breaking into a whisper as you bury your face in your hands, barely holding in the sob that threatens to spill out. “I just don’t understand. He was my safe place, Pompidou. For the first time in so long, I actually felt like I mattered. He made me feel seen. And now… now I feel invisible all over again, like everything we shared was just temporary, like it didn’t mean anything.”

Pompidou shifts closer, his soft purr rumbling beneath your fingertips as you stroke his fur, a small solace in the middle of this storm.

“I try to convince myself that I’m fine, that I can go on without him,” you continue, voice cracking as the words spill out unchecked. “But the truth is, I’m terrified. I’m scared that if he leaves… if he’s really gone, I’ll be alone again, just like before. And I hate myself for feeling this way, for being so… so weak.”

The tears finally break free, slipping down your cheeks in a silent flood. “What does that say about me? That I’m so dependent on him, that I can’t even imagine my life without him? I thought I was stronger than this, that I’d learned how to stand on my own. But now… now it’s like I’m right back to that scared, lonely kid I used to be, clinging to anyone who shows me a hint of kindness.”

You pull your knees to your chest, holding yourself as tightly as you can, as if you could somehow shield yourself from the emptiness swallowing you whole. “I can’t stop thinking that maybe this is all I deserve. That maybe I’m meant to be alone. Maybe he’s finally seeing me for who I am, and he’s realizing I’m not worth it.”

Your shoulders shake as the sobs escape, quiet and raw, each one cutting through you like glass. Pompidou curls closer, his little face pressing against your arm, as though he understands in his own way. But his silent comfort only deepens the ache, a reminder that the person you need more than anything isn’t here, and you’re left holding yourself together with nothing but frayed threads of hope.

With a shuddering breath, you finally admit the fear you’ve been trying so hard to ignore. “What if he doesn’t come back, Pompidou? What if this is it? I don’t think… I don’t think I can handle losing him. Not like this.”

Your voice drops to a whisper, the words coming slow and soft as you gaze out the window, eyes unfocused. “I just… I miss him, Pompidou,” you murmur, fingers absently tracing patterns against the sheets.

“I miss all the little things that made it feel like he was a part of me, like he was woven into my days without me even realizing it. I miss the way he’d send me random sketches, the ones that made no sense but made me laugh anyway, like he was letting me in on his little worlds. I miss… I miss how he’d always have this ridiculous drink order for me every time we’d meet up at the café where we switched up our notebooks with one another before we met for the first time. It’s like he knew exactly what I’d need, even if I didn’t.”

The memories wash over you, and you can’t stop the warmth from pooling in your chest as you picture those moments. “I wish we could go back to that time when things were… simple. When I could sit beside him without feeling like the whole world was shifting under my feet. When he’d laugh and look at me like I was… like I was something special, you know?”

Your voice trembles, and you tighten your grip on the sheets. “And the thing is… it was just easy with him. He’d be there, always making me feel like nothing could go wrong as long as we were together. He’d be there with his quiet, comforting presence, and I could just… be. I didn’t have to pretend or put on some mask. It was like he could see right through me, and somehow, he didn’t care about all the mess he found.”

You take a deep breath, the words spilling out like a plea. “I just want to go back, Pompidou. Back to before everything felt so fragile, before that almost-kiss, before this… this distance. I wish I could reach out and take it all back. I’d give anything just to have things feel normal again.”

Pompidou tilts his head, eyes blinking up at you, and you can’t help but laugh, a soft, broken sound that catches in your throat. “I know it sounds silly, doesn’t it? I mean, how could I expect anything to be the same after that? But I can’t help it, Pompidou. I want to go back to when he’d smile at me like that, when I didn’t have to wonder if I was the one pushing him away.”

You close your eyes, feeling the weight of each memory anchor you down. “I miss his laugh. I miss his stupid jokes. I miss the way he’d lean closer when he talked about his dreams, his voice getting all serious like he could see every detail in his mind. And I miss… I miss feeling like I belonged somewhere, like I belonged with him. I miss how he’d look at me with this warmth, like I was enough, just as I was.”

The words come out like a broken whisper, a confession you’ve been holding inside for far too long. “I can’t stop missing him. I wish… I wish I could go back to that last night before everything shifted. Before the night we nearly kissed, before I even realized what I felt. I wish I could’ve just stayed there, in that moment, without letting any of it change.”

You hug your knees, curling up as the ache settles deeper, heavier. “But I can’t. And now it’s as if I’m left with pieces of him in everything around me, and I don’t know how to put myself back together without him.”

You pull yourself up, exhaling slowly, and walk over to your desk. The room feels quiet, still heavy with everything you’ve let out, yet somehow emptier too, as if releasing the words has left you hollow. With a shaky hand, you pick up your phone and make your way back to bed, curling up beside Pompidou, who has already claimed his spot against your pillow. Settling into the blankets, you scroll through your contacts, your thumb hovering over Hongjoong’s icon.

It’s just his initials next to a simple photo he once sent—a candid moment he probably forgot about, something so ordinary that it’s precious now. The way he looked when he didn’t realize anyone was watching: a slight smile, eyes softened by something he found funny, maybe even a bit endearing. The sight makes your chest tighten, and you let yourself scroll up, reading through old conversations like leafing through the pages of a treasured book.

Each message brings back flashes of shared laughter and late-night ramblings, little moments where time seemed to pause, and it was just the two of you—untouchable, safe. You linger on a message he sent on a rainy afternoon, a random joke he thought would cheer you up. Your lips curl into a faint smile, but it’s bittersweet. There was a time when it was so easy, so effortless, like breathing. He had a way of knowing exactly when you needed a reminder that he was there. But now, that comfort feels distant, unreachable.

A tear slips down your cheek again before you realize it, and you hastily swipe it away, but the sorrow wells up again, slipping past your guard. As if sensing your pain, Pompidou extends a soft paw, resting it gently below your eyes, and you feel his fur against your cheek, grounding you in a way that words can’t. His small gesture tugs a quiet, breathy laugh from you, despite the ache in your chest. It’s as if he’s trying to catch your sadness, pulling it away piece by piece, his wide eyes fixed on yours with an empathy you can almost feel.

You let your head fall, hugging Pompidou close, allowing yourself to finally surrender to the pain and let it wash over you without restraint. The loneliness, the longing, the hollow spaces Hongjoong’s absence has left in you—all of it spills out as you clutch the feline tightly, letting his warmth and steady breathing lull you into a fragile sense of comfort. The room seems to blur, softening around you as the weight of everything you’ve been holding back presses into you.

The tears come faster now, unstoppable, and your quiet sobs fill the silence, raw and unfiltered. It’s just you and Pompidou, and for a moment, it feels like you’re not truly alone. There, in the quiet solace of your room, you cling to that small comfort, letting yourself feel every ounce of longing, letting yourself miss him—fully, desperately, hopelessly.

—

Meanwhile, Hongjoong stood in his office, the warm, nostalgic tones of “La Vie en Rose” playing softly from the record player behind him. His gaze fixed on the window, hands clasped tightly behind his back, and he fought to keep his emotions in check. Each note lingered in the air, pulling him deeper into the web of memories he was desperately trying to forget. This song, of all songs—he could still remember how it had been playing when the two of you had stood together in the flower shop, laughing over bouquets and trading light-hearted jokes as if the world beyond didn’t exist.

Part of him knew he could walk over and turn it off. The music was his to control, after all. And yet… he couldn’t bring himself to stop it. The melody was the last fragile thread that kept him tethered to you, a reminder of the warmth he felt in your presence, the comfort of knowing someone understood him.

The dim light from the city outside cast a soft glow over his office, illuminating the expanse of papers scattered across his desk, the outlines of unfinished sketches and hastily scrawled notes, all reminders of the whirlwind he’d buried himself in since he started pushing you away. Each corner of the room felt saturated with memories of you—and it was strange how a space that had once felt so alive now seemed hollow, absent of the warmth you’d brought into it.

He tried to focus on the skyline again, his eyes tracing the glittering lights of the city. It was an attempt to ground himself, to pull himself back from the turmoil inside him. But tonight, every bit of stillness he attempted felt false, every piece of composure barely hanging by a thread. All he could think about was you—the absence of your presence filling every empty space in his mind, as if refusing to be silenced.

He turned slowly from the window, allowing his gaze to wander over his desk. It was almost impossible to remember the last time he’d felt fully at ease in this room. The stacks of designs that had once held so much promise now felt like hollow accomplishments, each one only reminding him of the fire you’d helped him ignite. His eyes landed on a small pendant lying amidst the clutter. The flower encased inside had faded slightly, its once-vibrant petals softened by time. He picked it up, cradling it carefully in his hand, feeling a strange tenderness rise within him.

You’d given him that flower, pressing it into his hand with a shy smile as you murmured something about it bringing him luck. He could still recall the way your fingers had lingered against his, the brief but electric touch that had left him wondering if you felt it too. “For good luck,” you’d said, your eyes sparkling in that way they always did when you felt especially close to him.

Hongjoong swallowed, feeling a tightness in his chest as he held the pendant closer. How was it that something so small could carry the weight of so many memories? He closed his eyes, and the warmth of your smile flashed in his mind, as vivid as if you were standing beside him. But now, as he held the pendant, it felt heavier, like a tiny piece of the past he was terrified of losing forever.

In his mind, he slipped back to that night—the one that had started as an ordinary work session, yet had unraveled into something far more vulnerable. He could still feel the closeness of the room, the soft glow of the lamps casting long shadows as you both worked side by side, immersed in the quiet moment you shared.

You’d shared things that night that were never meant to leave the room. He could still hear your voice, low and hesitant, as you revealed the fears you held closest to your heart. “Being left alone,” you’d admitted, your words raw and unguarded. The truth of it had lingered between you, a quiet vulnerability that had shaken him more than he cared to admit.

When you turned the question back on him, he’d hesitated, feeling the weight of his own guarded secrets pressing against his chest. But in that quiet space, under the gentle glow of the lamp, he’d found himself opening up in ways he hadn’t allowed himself to in years. “Losing myself,” he’d whispered, his voice barely audible, but enough for you to hear. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Now, standing alone in his empty office, Hongjoong felt the irony of it all washing over him. He’d tried so hard to protect himself, to build walls so high that even you couldn’t reach them. But now, it felt as if he had developed a new fear bigger than losing himself—losing you.

A quiet knock on the door broke his reverie, and he tensed, slipping the pendant into his pocket as he turned. Wooyoung’s face appeared in the doorway, his expression unreadable as he took in the sight of Hongjoong standing alone, the haunting strains of La Vie en Rose still spinning softly from the record player across the room.

Wooyoung’s eyes flickered to the player, where the melody had been looping for what must have been the better part of an hour. “Still here?” he asked quietly, a hint of concern threading his tone.

Hongjoong forced a slight smile, his voice coming out rougher than he intended. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Wooyoung stepped further into the room, his gaze sharp as it settled on Hongjoong. “You know…” Wooyoung began, folding his arms as he leaned against the wall, “the world can see how miserable you are. Including her—especially her.”

Hongjoong stiffened, the forced nonchalance slipping from his face as he turned away, staring intently at the record player as if it held all the answers he was struggling to find. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, the words feeling hollow even to his own ears.

“Hongjoong,” Wooyoung’s tone softened, a hint of exasperation breaking through. “I know you. I know how much you care about her. And I know you’re running from something you can’t outrun. But you’re not fooling anyone by pretending it doesn’t matter.”

Hongjoong’s jaw tightened, his mind racing with all the reasons he’d built to keep you at a distance. Each one felt logical, safe, a way to protect himself from something he couldn’t quite name. But here, with Wooyoung standing there, watching him with that steady gaze, he felt every layer he’d built start to unravel.

“I’m not pretending,” he said quietly, barely audible above the music.

Wooyoung’s eyes narrowed, his tone turning softer, almost pleading. “Then what are you doing, Hongjoong? Because from where I’m standing, all I see is someone too scared to reach for what he really wants.”

Hongjoong’s heart twisted painfully, Wooyoung’s words hitting far too close to home. He felt the weight of everything he’d tried to suppress rising within him, a tidal wave of emotions he’d buried so deeply he’d convinced himself they were gone. But Wooyoung’s words had brought them to the surface, and now, there was no escaping them.

A silence stretched between them, and Hongjoong’s gaze fell to the floor. In that moment, he felt utterly vulnerable, as though Wooyoung could see right through him, could see the aching desire he’d tried so hard to deny. He didn’t have to say it—Wooyoung already knew.

Hongjoong’s fingers were still curled around the pendant in his pocket when Wooyoung let out a quiet sigh, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall. “So,” Wooyoung began, breaking the silence, “are you really going to stand here, pretending everything’s fine?”

Hongjoong’s jaw clenched, his shoulders tensing. He wanted to brush off Wooyoung’s words, to deflect with some casual response that would keep the carefully built walls intact. But his mind was a battlefield, each memory of you cutting through his defenses like a blade.

“Everything is fine,” he replied tersely. He didn’t meet Wooyoung’s eyes, focusing instead on a spot just beyond his shoulder.

Wooyoung’s brows knitted together, clearly unconvinced. “Right. That’s why you’ve been playing her favorite song on loop for the last hour. That’s why you’ve been holed up in here, avoiding anything that reminds you of her.” He shook his head, his tone equal parts exasperation and worry. “Hongjoong, you’re not fooling me. I know you, and I know you’re running from something—from someone.”

Hongjoong let out a low, frustrated sigh, finally looking up at Wooyoung. “Wooyoung, just drop it, alright?” He forced a tense smile, attempting to sound dismissive. “This… whatever you think is going on, it’s all in your head. We were just friends.”

But Wooyoung didn’t budge. “Friends?” He let out a quiet laugh, but there was no humor in it, just the weight of disbelief. “You really want to go with that? Because the way you’re acting… it doesn’t look like you’re just missing a friend. You’re avoiding her like she’s a stranger, but then you’re here, playing her favorite song over and over, clutching onto that pendant like it’s the last piece of her you have.”

Hongjoong’s fingers instinctively tightened around the pendant, and he felt a pang of frustration rise within him. He didn’t want to admit that Wooyoung’s words struck too close to home. “I told you, it’s nothing like that,” he bit back, his tone sharper than intended. “You’re turning this into something it isn’t.”

Wooyoung’s eyes narrowed, his gaze not faltering. “Am I? Because from where I’m standing, you’re acting like a guy who’s desperately trying to convince himself of something he doesn’t even believe.”

“Wooyoung—”

“Hongjoong, you can’t keep lying to yourself.” Wooyoung’s tone softened, his voice carrying a gentleness that seemed to cut deeper than the words themselves. “Look, I don’t know what happened between you two, but I do know that you care about her. You’re not fooling anyone by pretending this distance is ‘better’ for either of you.”

Hongjoong’s patience began to fray, his frustration morphing into anger. He shot Wooyoung a glare, his voice rising. “It is better, Wooyoung. She… she deserves better. She doesn’t need to be pulled into whatever mess I am.” He paused, catching his breath, his anger mingling with something closer to desperation. “I’m not what’s best for her. And it’s better for the both of us if I keep my distance.”

Wooyoung’s expression shifted, his gaze hardening as he stepped closer, unwilling to let Hongjoong brush him off. “So, what? You think pushing her away, acting like she means nothing, is somehow good for her? You really think she’s better off without you?”

“Yes,” Hongjoong replied, his tone final, but the conviction in his voice was starting to waver.

Wooyoung gave him a long, scrutinizing look, and for a moment, the silence between them was thick with unspoken truths. Then, Wooyoung shook his head slowly. “You’re lying to yourself. And honestly? It’s pathetic, Hongjoong. I’ve never seen you like this before.”

The words hit Hongjoong like a slap, and a flash of anger surged within him, simmering beneath the surface. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, his voice low and strained. “I’m doing this for her, so just… stop.”

But Wooyoung wouldn’t relent. “You’re not doing this for her. You’re doing this because you’re afraid. Afraid to admit how much she means to you. Afraid of what might happen if you actually let her in. Whatever you’re afraid of, whatever you think is keeping you from being with her… maybe it’s worth rethinking. Because if you keep running like this, you’re going to lose her. And then what?”

Hongjoong felt his control slipping, the carefully constructed barriers he’d built starting to crack under the weight of Wooyoung’s words. He clenched his fists, his gaze dropping to the floor as he struggled to keep his voice steady. “This isn’t about fear.”

“Isn’t it?” Wooyoung’s voice softened, a hint of understanding breaking through the frustration. “Hongjoong… I get it. You’re scared of losing yourself. Of losing control. But she’s not the one who’s going to make that happen. You are, by doing this. By trying so hard to keep her out.”

Hongjoong stayed silent, his chest tightening as Wooyoung’s words began to sink in. He wanted to deny it, to push back with the same conviction he’d clung to for weeks, but he couldn’t. Because deep down, he knew there was truth in Wooyoung’s words.

Finally, Wooyoung let out a sigh, his tone softening even further. “Listen, man. I don’t know what almost happened, or why you’re so determined to stay away from her, but you have to ask yourself… is this really what you want?”

Hongjoong closed his eyes, his mind flashing back to that night in your apartment—the feeling of your hand brushing his, the way your gaze had lingered on him, the unspoken tension that had nearly pulled him into something he couldn’t name. He’d wanted so badly to close that distance, to feel your lips against his, to let go of the fear and doubt that had held him back. But just as he’d leaned closer, Wooyoung’s call had snapped him out of the moment, bringing him crashing back to reality.

“Do you even understand how much she’s hurting, Hongjoong?” And there it was again—the harshness in Wooyoung’s tone. “Seonghwa told me she’s tearing herself apart over this. She doesn’t eat right anymore, and she barely even sleeps. She spends her nights lying awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering where things went wrong, wondering if she’s the problem.”

The words landed like a punch to Hongjoong’s gut, leaving him breathless. Images of you flashed through his mind—moments when he’d caught glimpses of your smile faltering, your laughter quieting, the spark in your eyes dimming little by little. He’d told himself it was just his imagination, that you were fine. But Wooyoung’s words shattered that illusion entirely.

“She thinks she did something wrong, Hongjoong,” Wooyoung continued, his voice filled with barely contained anger. “She actually believes she’s the reason you’re running. Every time you disappear, every time you pull away, she thinks it’s because of something she did. And the worst part? She doesn’t even blame you. She blames herself.”

Hongjoong’s fists clenched at his sides, his nails digging into his palms as guilt clawed at him.

“Seonghwa told me she asked him if she was too much. Can you believe that?” Wooyoung’s voice cracked. “She actually thinks she’s too much for you. That she’s somehow burdening you, dragging you down. She’s convinced herself that if she were just… less, maybe you wouldn’t be running.”

Hongjoong’s breath hitched, a wave of nausea rolling over him as he realized the full extent of the pain he’d caused. You—who had always been so vibrant, so unapologetically yourself—were now questioning every part of who you were, trying to shrink yourself down to avoid scaring him away.

“She’s not even angry at you, Hongjoong,” Wooyoung said, his voice barely above a whisper now, each word a dagger aimed straight at Hongjoong’s heart. “She doesn’t hate you for this. She just… she thinks she’s not enough. Or that she’s too much. Either way, she’s convinced that she’s the problem.”

Hongjoong closed his eyes, his mind reeling. He could feel the anchor of your pain weighing down on him; He’d done this to you—turned you into a shadow of yourself, left you grappling with doubts and insecurities that weren’t yours to bear.

“You’ve been so busy hiding behind your own fears,” Wooyoung continued, “that you haven’t even stopped to consider what this is doing to her. You’re so terrified of being hurt again that you’re hurting her—over and over, every day, with every step you take away from her.”

Hongjoong opened his mouth to speak, to protest, but the words caught in his throat. What could he possibly say to justify this? How could he explain that he’d been running not to hurt you, but to protect himself? It sounded so selfish, so small in the face of everything you were going through.

“And you know what’s really twisted?” Wooyoung’s voice dropped, a bitter edge creeping into his tone. “She’d take you back in a heartbeat. Despite everything, she’d still look at you the same way she did before you started pushing her away. She’d still forgive you, still try to see the good in you, because that’s who she is. That’s how much she cares.”

Hongjoong felt something break inside him, a quiet, shattering realization that left him reeling. You would forgive him. He knew that. He could see it in his mind—the way you’d smile softly, the way your eyes would fill with understanding, even now. Even after everything, you’d welcome him back, arms open, heart exposed, waiting.

“She deserves better, Joong.” Wooyoung’s words were softer now, the anger replaced by a raw, unfiltered honesty. “She deserves someone who doesn’t make her question her worth. Someone who doesn’t make her feel like she’s somehow wrong just for being herself. And if you can’t be that for her… if you’re too wrapped up in your own fears to let her in… then you need to let her go.”

Hongjoong’s chest tightened, a hollow ache spreading through him as he struggled to process it all. He didn’t want to let you go. He couldn’t. But the thought of holding onto you only to keep hurting you, to keep dragging you through his own tangled web of insecurities and fears—it was unbearable.

“She’s barely holding up. She hides it well, but Seonghwa can see it. He told me how she sits alone for hours, just staring off into space, like she’s lost something she can’t find. She keeps her phone close, hoping maybe, just maybe, you’ll reach out. But every time you don’t... it breaks her a little more.”

Hongjoong’s chest tightened painfully, each word slicing through him like a blade. He could see it so clearly now, every painful moment he’d forced you through. How you must’ve waited for messages that never came, must’ve spent countless nights wondering where things had gone wrong. The thought of you sitting there, lost in your own pain, while he’d been so focused on his own fears, was more than he could bear.

“And don’t think she hasn’t tried to talk to you.” Wooyoung’s voice turned sharp, accusatory. “Seonghwa told me how many times she’s wanted to reach out, just to make sure you’re okay, just to see if you’d give her even a scrap of reassurance. But every time, she stops herself. She doesn’t want to bother you, doesn’t want to seem needy. She’s holding back everything she feels because she’s afraid it’ll push you further away.”

Wooyoung’s eyes softened slightly, but the fire of his conviction remained. “You need to understand, Hongjoong. This isn’t just about you anymore. It’s about her too. You’re hurting her, and if you don’t start realizing that, it’ll be too late. She’s going to break, and I don’t think she’ll come back from it.”

Hongjoong felt a cold wave of dread wash over him. The thought of you shattering into pieces because of his cowardice was unbearable. He wanted to argue, to defend himself, to say that he was doing this for you, for the both of you. But deep down, he knew it was a lie. He was only trying to shield himself from the fear of loss, the same fear that had haunted him since that girl from his past had walked away.

“I can’t… I can’t lose anyone again, Woo,” Hongjoong finally admitted, his voice cracking under the weight of his confession. “What if she sees me for who I really am? What if she realizes I’m not worth it?”

Wooyoung shook his head, frustration flashing across his features. “That’s where you’re wrong. She already sees you, and she loves you for all the parts you’re trying to hide. You think you’re protecting her by staying away, but you’re only pushing her further into despair.”

Hongjoong’s heart raced, a whirlwind of emotions colliding within him. “How do you know? How do you know she feels that way?”

“Because I’ve talked to Seonghwa, and he cares about her, Joong! He’s seen her cry over you. He told me she broke down one night, just sitting on the floor of her room, wondering why you were so distant. She kept saying she must’ve done something wrong. Do you want that for her? Do you want to be the reason she loses herself?”

The image of you curled up alone, tears streaming down your face while grappling with your worth, sliced through Hongjoong. The sheer guilt of it settled heavily in his chest, suffocating him. He had wanted to protect you, but in doing so, he had only hurt you more.

Hongjoong lingered in silence, the weight of his unspoken fears casting a shadow over the room. He could feel Wooyoung’s gaze on him, a

persistent pressure urging him to confront the thoughts he’d been too afraid to voice.

“What if…” The words caught in his throat, his voice strained with the vulnerability he couldn’t hide. “What if I take the next step, and she leaves? What if she ends up leaving just like—”

Wooyoung interrupted him by reaching forward, pressing his fingers gently but firmly to Hongjoong’s lips, shushing him with an authority that surprised them both. “I know what comes next, Hongjoong,” he murmured. “You don’t need to say it.”

Hongjoong stiffened, pulling back ever so slightly, a touch of annoyance flickering across his face. “You think it’s that simple?” he muttered, frustration bleeding into his voice. “You think it’s easy to just… forget?”

Wooyoung’s expression softened, though he held firm. “I think you’re holding onto something that’s long gone, Joong. And you’re letting it get in the way of something real.” He paused, leaning forward. “So what if the girl you loved back in middle school left you? You’re still letting her be the one who decides what happens now?”

Hongjoong’s mouth opened, then closed, his defenses crumbling under Wooyoung’s scrutiny. He could feel the words bubbling up, the excuses he’d used to justify his fears over and over, but this time, they didn’t come. The silence between them grew heavier, and he felt himself shrinking under Wooyoung’s eyes.

“It’s not about her,” Hongjoong finally managed, his voice a strained whisper. “It’s just… this was exactly how it started back then. The same moments, the same feelings, and then…” His voice broke, a haunted look creeping into his eyes as the memories clawed their way to the surface. “And then it all just fell apart the moment she left without a word.”

Wooyoung’s expression softened, his gaze filled with something close to sympathy, but there was no pity there, only an understanding forged through years of friendship. “Joong,” he said softly, leaning even closer as if he could bridge the distance that Hongjoong had placed between himself and everyone around him. “So what if some things feel familiar? They’re not the same person, are they? You’re not the same person, either.”

Hongjoong clenched his jaw, a flicker of anger sparking in his chest as he searched for a way to deflect, to deny the truth in Wooyoung’s words. “It’s… it’s not like that, Woo. You don’t get it.” His voice grew sharper, frustration edging his tone as he tried to hold onto the walls he’d built.

Wooyoung shook his head, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Really? Because it doesn’t look that way to me.”

Hongjoong looked away, his gaze hardening as he stared at the floor. “It’s not that simple, okay? You don’t know what it’s like to… to risk everything and then lose it.”

Wooyoung sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Hongjoong, I may not know exactly what you went through, but I do know one thing: you’re letting something from the past dictate your future. And that’s not fair. Not to you, and definitely not to her.”

Hongjoong’s shoulders sagged, the fight draining out of him as he felt the weight of Wooyoung’s words settle over him. Part of him wanted to argue, to cling to the fears that had kept him guarded for so long, but another part—a part he’d buried deep—knew that Wooyoung was right.

“What if I let myself try?” His voice was barely above a whisper, his words laden with the weight of years of doubt and self-preservation. “What if… what if I take that risk, and she ends up leaving?”

Wooyoung’s gaze softened, and he leaned forward, resting a reassuring hand on Hongjoong’s shoulder. “Joong, if she’s really the person you believe she is… then maybe it’s a risk worth taking. Because people leave, yeah. They walk away. But the ones who matter, the ones who are meant to stay—they won’t go anywhere.”

“You’re saying I should just… trust that?” His voice wavered, the question more for himself than for Wooyoung, as if he needed to convince himself that he could still believe in something other than his own fears.

Wooyoung’s mouth curved into a gentle, understanding smile. “Yeah. Trust it. Don’t let something that’s already gone keep you from what could be right here, right now.”

“What if I let her in? What if I let her see the real me? What if it’s not enough?”

“Then you fight for her,” Wooyoung replied. “You show her every day that she’s enough. You fight for her instead of running away. You have to be brave enough to take the risk, Joong. And if she does leave, at least you’ll know you tried. You can’t live in the shadow of your past forever.”

“But what if she sees me as weak?” Hongjoong countered, bitterness lacing his tone. “What if she thinks I’m broken?”

“Then you show her that even broken pieces can fit together to make something beautiful,” Wooyoung shot back. “You’ve built this wall around yourself, but you’re just hurting the one person who’s tried to break through. You need to trust her. You need to let her help you. She wants to be there for you, but you have to meet her halfway.”

The truth of those words echoed painfully in Hongjoong’s mind. He had been running, terrified of the vulnerability that came with love, terrified of the chance that he could be left once more. But he could feel the edges of that fear beginning to fray under the weight of his guilt, unraveling with every word Wooyoung spoke.

“You can’t let the past dictate your present, Hongjoong,” Wooyoung said, his voice softer now, a mixture of empathy and frustration. “You can’t keep running away from what you feel. If you do, you’ll end up losing her, and it’ll be your fault.”

Hongjoong’s heart raced as he thought of you—how you had lit up his life in ways he never thought possible. How your laughter had become a soothing balm to his weary soul. He couldn’t keep ignoring the truth that was staring him in the face. The realization washed over him like a cold wave. “What am I supposed to do?” Hongjoong whispered.

“Fight for her, Joong. Show her that you’re not afraid. Be honest with her, and don’t let fear win this time.” Wooyoung leaned closer. “She deserves that much, at the very least. Fight for her—before it’s too late.”

“But what if it already is?”

🪞 — lividstar.

[etherealyoungk]

hello skye!! i love your writing, its so sweet :] coukd i req svt with an s/o that maybe is non verbal or doesnt talk that much when theyre anxious? or just minghao, woozi, and seungkwan if ot13 is too much! if u havent eaten yet, eat something even if its small when u see this!!

hello! i love your username btw! and thank you, im happy to hear you enjoy my writing <3 i hope you like this! you take care as well :) i wrote this with ot13 btw

seungcheol: he knows when you're anxious when you start being a bit more quiet than usual and he slowly approaches you on the topic. he'd sit down next to you and ask you what was wrong as he gently brushes your cheek with the back of his hand. you didn't have to tell him immediately, but he just would want you to know that he's here for you and that you don't have to bottle up your feelings.

jeonghan: he'd notice after a while that you'd get rather quiet and closed off if you got anxious. he'd try his best to make you feel safe and comfortable and you'd slowly learn to open up to him about your anxiousness and feelings.

joshua: similar to seungcheol, he'd be the type to notice the change in you immediately and try to figure out what might be triggering your anxiousness. would cuddle you and distract you by watching a movie or reading out a book to you, until you slowly open up to him.

junhui: a little cluless tbh. he'd think you were just tired whenever you'd become closed off and quiet. it was later that he learned it was because you were anxious and not tired.

hoshi: he's not really sure what to do. he thinks that maybe you're upset, that's why you're suddenly so quiet and not talking to him as much. "are you mad at me?", he asks you softly with a pout. "hoshi..no im not mad at you. shit im sorry im just...i don't know..anxious.." you explain to him. later he would make sure to be alert of when you might be anxious and would gently squeeze your hand to let you know that he was here for you.

wonwoo: i think wonwoo would understand how you kinda shut off and become quiet when you get anixous and he'd leave you alone, giving you your space. but he'd also make sure to be there for you and tell gently ask you what was wrong if he was really worried and you seemed a bit too anxious. he'd gently talk to you and try to understand what was making you feel anxious.

woozi: he'd understand and would give you space and time if you needed it. but if he saw you were getting a bit too worked up and anxious, he'd help you calm down, telling you to breathe and that he was here and was not going anywhere. you could tell him anything, at anytime and he'd be here for you.

minghao: whenever you got anxious and found yourself curled up under the blankets, minghao made you tea. he'd make you a warm cup of tea and sit beside you as you slowly sipped the tea, grateful to minghao for being by you. you'd slowly open up to him about how you were feeling and he'd hug you afterwards, telling you how proud he was of you.

mingyu: he's very worried. he would not understand it at first and he'd just think you were maybe mad or upset at him because of the sudden quietness from you. but he later understands that it's because of your anxiety he feels a bit :\ he'd then try his best to notice when you'd kinda space out and close off and try to get you to speak to him. again, he won't force you, just would cuddle you and tell you that he was here and you could tell him anything, no matter how serious or silly it was.

dokyeom: the moment he sees you a bit more closed off and quieter than usual, whether it be replying to his texts later than usual or leaving him on seen, he's running over to you. he'd bring a few of your favorite foods, snacks, or your favorite ice cream and sit down with you, engulfing you in a big warm hug and telling you that he was always on your side and you didn't have to worry. he'd gently reassure you and once you open up to him about your feelings, he'd hug you again and give you a sweet kiss on the cheek.

seungkwan: he'd understand and he'd kind of get it and understand how you were feeling and not prod at you to tell him. he'd give you your space but also make sure he was there for you and he'd cook for you or take you out and maybe even buy you flowers because he wanted to make you smile and help you feel better. he would check up on your throughout the day and make sure you were okay.

vernon: he'd be a little clueless but once he learns and understands, he'd be with you and try his best to comfort and talk to you about how you were feeling.

dino: he would be a little confused too as you why you had suddenly gotten so quiet or weren't talking to him like you usually would. qhen you finally pluck the courage to speak to him, you tell him he'd hug you and tell you how great you were doing. he'd make it a point to notice when you got anxious and shower you with extra love and affection as well, hoping to distract you until you were ready to speak or voice it out to him.

taglist: @joshuaahong @naaaaafla @daisycheols

[konekoling]

Hi hello since the states are gonna get blasted with cold soon I figured I'd shave some Helpful Cold Survival Advice I've absorbed as someone who lives in an area that hits -50C/-58F temperatures periodically

-Starting with a somewhat obvious one, but HOLY SHIT DO NOT BRING BARBECUES, GENERATORS, OR ANY OTHER FORM OF OUTDOOR HEAT SOURCE INSIDE FOR WARMTH. CO poisoning WILL kill you if you don't accidentally start a fire in the process.

-If you wanna stay in your car and turn the heat up for warmth DO NOT do it in the garage. Again. CO poisoning.

-You can turn up your stove/ oven and crack the oven door open in an emergency if you have zero other heat sources available, but only if its electric (Gas stoves will generate carbon mono...yeah you get it already), and even then its going to be much less energy efficient than a normal space heater, and you're gonna want to stay nearby while it's on to make sure you don't start a fire.

-Don't plug a space heater into a power bar or extention cord unless you're 100% sure it has a high quality cord. They need an absurd amount of power to run, and most extention cords in particular aren't insulated enough to handle those levels of power without becoming a fire hazard. And for the love of God, don't run multiple heaters on one power bar.

-Candles don't actually do much to generate heat unless you're ina very small area, but they ARE an excellent light source should power go out

- tragically, the best way to keep warm in the absence of home heating is through boring ol layering, especially on your feet and head. Avoid jeans, as they're somehow terrible at heat retention despite how thick they are, and throw on a pair of long underwear/leggings if you have some. Also feel free to pile as many blankets as you own on top of yourself, you deserve it.

-Youre gonna want to stay well fed, too. Keeping your body temperature up in the cold is pretty calorically demanding, AND the digestive process tends to heat your body up as well. Its a win/win.

-Also unfortunate: another excellent way to stay warm is through your enemy and mine, physical activity. Every half hour or so, pace around your living space to get the ol blood pumping a bit.

-If you get wet outside while it's substantially cold out, get inside as soon as possible bc that WILL suck the heat from your body. This goes for sweat too, so layer responsibly if you're out shoveling

-Electric blankets are a scam, don't buy them.

-heating pads and heated mattress covers are less of a scam, but don't fall asleep with them on bc once again, fire hazard.

-If you have any faucets in your house that don't see a lot of use/you live somewhere that doesn't usually see cold weather, keep all your faucets on just a bit so your pipes don't freeze and/or explode. This WILL cost thousands of dollars to fix.

-Likewise, if you're traveling for the holidays see if you can have someone come by to turn the faucets on every day or two so you don't come home to find your house sunk into the ground

-ALSO if you're traveling and think "hm, I think I'll turn off the heat while I'm out to save some money that is the devil speaking, do NOT listen. (Heating helps keep the pipes warm and unfrozen)

-Fill your bathtub up with water and/or stock up on bottled water if you're gonna be getting unusually cold temperatures in case your pipes DO freeze, since you're probably not gonna want to hit up the store should this occur

-Stay off the roads if you can help it. Turbocold weather makes cars periodically fail to start, and also the second snow touches the ground people somehow forget how to drive.

-IMO If it's below -38C before windchill, you have a substantial commute, and you have any PTO/can afford to miss a shift at work, don't bother going in. Just lie and say your car wouldn't start.

-If you absolutely need to go to work/go out for whatever reason, take public transit if possible. If thats not possible, keep some blankets, food, candles, and a lighter in your car in case the battery dies on the road so you can stay toasty and Alive until help arrives.

Probably gonna add more as I remember it, but thems the basics! Stay warm!

[ummmlife]

Under the cherry tree

warnings! ; non curse nanaken (high school years) [it means that the characters are normal people without powers], reader referred as "you" , that's all, it's just fluff

At first, you never thought you could make friends so easily. You were a new student, and... well, the truth is, meeting new people is always difficult, one way or another.

Luckily, one of your friendly classmates came up to greet you after the first class in the morning. Yu Haibara, a rather cheerful and, perhaps, a bit annoying guy, but always helpful and willing to be your friend.

Behind Yu, there's always someone following him silently, like a shadow. Sometimes he speaks, and other times, he prefers to stay quiet. Kento Nanami, a companion of few words but who, surprisingly, is quite nice.

The three of them form a fairly stable group, with Haibara and Nanami supporting you in many ways so that you could adjust to school. They, along with the third year boys, became your good friends that you could rely on no matter what.

And of course, it would have been perfect if new feelings for Nanami hadn't blossomed in you.

Is this first love in high school?

You just couldn't take your eyes off your friend, his frown, the constant pout on his thin lips, the selfless way he talks... sigh. This really is love.

But how could you ruin such a beautiful friendship with such romantic feelings? How selfish, the best thing to do is to shut up and forget about this once you graduate from high school. But, keeping these feelings bottled up would be its own kind of torture.

Nevertheless, you decided to go on with your life in the most normal way possible... Because how horrible would it be to confess to your crush and have him reject you in front of everyone! Hahaha... ha.

As the days went by, you couldn't help but fall deeper in love with Kento. After all, how could you not? If the way he always keeps a serious expression on his face and his ridiculous melancholic boy hairdo makes your stomach feel, not only butterflies, but a whole zoo every time they talk.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, and still, all you could think about was Kento Nanami.

From a simple text message about school news to math class, where he lets you copy his homework–because, oh well, he's a smart kid, and you just find algebra too boring. Kento is always there to help you, as attentive and helpful as he is himself, selfless but careful in his actions.

He gives you the energy to wake up and face another bitter day. He makes you want to watch cheesy movies where the main characters kiss. He pushes you to try new things you never would have without him. He makes you want to be more affectionate, but only with him. He makes you think, just maybe, you're worthy of being loved…

Impossible... There is no point in daydreaming about something that will never happen, Kento Nanami would never want you more than a friend. Impossible, that would only happen in a fictional story.

— Could you help me with something outside later?

It was a warm spring afternoon, you two were in charge of cleaning the classroom after the school day, you had been chatting quietly about school and life during those minutes until Kento asked for that specific request.

Sure, no problem, why would there be a problem with him after all?

When you finished cleaning the classroom, Kento led you through the corridors to the exit to the back garden, and you walked beside him in silence, as usual. The gentle breeze stirred the leaves on the trees, and the sky was tinged with an orange color that heralded sunset. It was no different than other spring days when you watched the sunset like nothing else, but there was something in the air, something different, today felt different.

Finally, they came to a cherry tree that was behind the school. Pink blossoms still hung from the branches, creating a scene almost out of a dream. The soft petals swayed in the gentle breeze, some falling like snow around you. The world seemed to stand still under that tree. Kento stopped under the tree, turning to you.

— I wanted to talk to you about something — he said, and although his tone was still calm, you could feel that there was something else in his words.

Your heart raced. Was this really happening? The words you had longed for, feared, were hanging in the air between you two. Could it be real? Could Kento feel the same way?

— I… — Kento paused, looking at the ground for a moment before looking up at you, — I've always been a reserved person, you know that. I don't usually express what I feel. But with you, it's been different. Ever since I met you, I've been trying to understand why I feel this way.

You feel confused, overwhelmed, even scared. You couldn't understand his words even if you wanted to; it felt like it was a declaration of love.

— What I mean is... — Kento took a deep breath, and for the first time, you could see a flash of emotion on his face— I don't know if this will ruin everything between us, but I can't keep pretending. I can't keep hiding how I feel any longer.

The world seemed to stop for a moment. Your mind was racing. All those times you tried to deny what you felt, and now he, under that cherry tree in the most cliché way possible, was sharing his feelings with you.

— I'm in love with you.

i've had this one shot munching away in my drafts since... i don't know, last year, but i finally post it!

i created this situation based on, hear me out, my made up super spinoff of jjk with the 2006 generation + my oc jujutsu that i imagine almost every time i go to sleep (i have a whole season with different stories, all in my head)

also because once an anon asked me (sort of) if i thought nanami was one of those who proposed first or if he waited to be proposed to, and this is my answer!

dear anon, im going to link this one shot to your question

anyway, i decided to just write without putting so many mental obstacles and without paying attention to my perfectionism for my mental sake, i really needed to write to relax so i have no idea if it's a good or bad story, it's just a story full of love from me to you 🫶 i hope you guys can enjoy it

[keen-li]

If you want me you're gonna have to get to know me

tutor'seokjin x college student'reader

Sorry for any typos.

1.4k

--

“What do you want?” Seokjin says opening the door for you to come in, his tone is not cold yet not warm either, but more confused and surprised. 

You walk into his apartment with a bounce in your step and a smile on your face as if you were entering a close friend’s house, but seokjin’s not your close friend let alone your friend. 

“Guess who got an A on her test” you walk as you take of the sweater you were wearing to cover up the tank top. Seokjin takes that as an opportunity to eye your beautiful skin that he’s had his hands on before,  though its been a while now since you’ve been studying for the test.

He missed you did he ever tell you that? He doesn’t need to though.

“Without cheating” you add as you now turn to face him and he chuckles at how you mock him for once suggesting he could get you that paper before the test. Which you said no to.

As you turn to now face him you get a view of his figure. Tall, slightly muscular, shirtless, and only in his sweats.  Just how he liked to sleep.  And how you liked to see him.

You thought that after the test it would be great to see him since you haven’t seen each other in a while and he’s been getting cranky at the lack of attention.

So, you thought the nighttime would be best to come tell him your good news about that test.

Seokjin watches you walk over to his drink bar and pour yourself a drink, smile still evident and body language more confident than usual. 

He begins to wonder if you had drunk before you came here.

“Couldn’t you have just texted me that” his voice speaks with eyebrows knitted. 

You pause to look at him as the burning liquid makes its course down to your throat.

The silence between you is deafening and dramatic as you take in the man Infront of you and his words. 

Hmm.

You shrug and give a melodramatic disappointed facial expression.  You turn and place the bottle down and the glass follows, the glass of the cup and the glass of the table cause a slit smack sound. But it’s nothing to pay attention to.

But instead, seokjin watches your every movement with lowered eyes and slouched shoulders. The dim lights of his apartment cause a dramatic mood to set in.

He’s confused to why you’re coming back after you’ve been denying all this time. It’s not like you’ve never been together but after some time you got a little weird and pulled away from him and now, he stares at you in his apartment in your little dress as if trying to lure him back in. But he won’t make it that easy for you.

“Fine,” you say in a slightly angry tone. You grab your sweater from the spot on the couch you throw it on and start walking to the door whilst making eye contact with his tall figure that’s watching your every step with curiosity.

“I’ll go.” You throw him some attitude. If he’s going to give such an attitude for coming then you’ll leave. Just as you’re about to pass him his arm leans against the wall blocking you from going any further. 

“Really?” his husky voice speaks.  “Without getting what you came for?”

You’re so close to his face that you can see the color of his pupils change.

He closes in on you so that you’re trapped between his figure and the wall.

“That is not what I came here for” you try to play it coy.

“Yeah, it is” his face moves into yours. “For the kissing and touching and fucking.” he spits out a little too factually.

“To celebrate your little A” he whispers by your eyes and it causes goosebumps to rise on your skin.

with this angle you can’t help but be in view of his lips and since they are there it’s the only thing you see, so that’s what you’re going to look at.

“coming back to me cause those little college boys don’t make you feel as good”  he says his words inflated by his ego.

You know Seokjin has you down bad for him.

You release a sharp chuckle as your hand moves to pat his bicep, to deflate his ego.

“You think so highly of yourself ” you mock “It’s good for your self esteem though. So I’m glad you tell yourself that.”

Seokjin chuckles as his tongue then runs over his lips and his eyes never leave yours.

“Nah, I can just tell by your body language” he closes in on you even more.

“the way your heart races now that I’m so close, the goose bumps form when I caress your skin” he stares as a finger trails along your skin.

You move your eyes away from him avoiding his intimate gaze. Seokjin knows he’s got you, he’s just playing with his food.

“and now you want me to kiss you” he reads your mind. “don’t worry I will…”

“I’ll kiss you slow, deep.  Graze my Tongue over your neck ” your breath begins to quicken as he lists out the things he’s going to do. The anticipation has you dripping at your core.

At this point you can’t deny it and you just want him to kiss you. His lips are only millimeters away.

“Then I’ll kiss you all the way down to your stomach” you feel his hand move up your dress to caress your stomach. Your stomach does a flip and you feel yourself clenching around nothing as he continues to taunt you with his lewd words.

Your body moves into him showing him how bad and desperately you need him. His touch leaves fire everywhere as he continues to tease. The gasps of air you take in causes Seokjin to smirk.

“I haven’t  even touched your cunt and you’re so noisy”  he moves down to place a kiss on your shoulder  and you arch your back off the wall.

“seokjin” you let out a breathy moan. 

“Then I’ll suck these pretty titties like I like to.” He says against your skin and you gasp when you feel his large hands cup your boobs. 

“they’re my favourite you know” you feel his fingers rub your nipples.

“Oh? Not my cunt?” you find it in yourself to question. 

“don’t be silly nothing can beat the cunt“ his voice causes you to close your thighs together in order to feel some friction.  

His massaging stops and you want you cry out.

“seokjin” you whine as your hands find themselves on his waist to pull him in.

But he ignores your plea, which causes you frustration. 

“Then I’ll move inside your panties.” the thought has you begging.

He trails his fingers down to the edge of your panties.

“please...” you whine but he stops to chuckle at how a mess you look right now. And you wanted to pretend like you didn’t come here to get fucked.

“inside your panties, where I like  my mouth to be” you feel his hand move into your panties and his long digits run across your folds collecting your juices and as he does so he lightly touches your clit and you visibly shiver at the feeling.

“so sensitive and so wet” he watches your head lean back against the wall and you suck in your lower lip.

“You want me inside you?” he asks but you don’t answer cause you’re so distracted. 

So, he taps your heat to call your attention.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” 

And when you register his words like a hungry bitch you nod. “Yes, I need you.”

He smiles at your desperation. It’s so amusing. 

“Please...” You continue to beg and your attempt to pull him into you by the waist and feel him rub against you falls limp.

“too bad that’s not happening  tonight” you feel his touch and presence move away from your body and the room becomes cold.

And all you can do is look lost as your try to catch your breath 

“you’re disappointed, i know but think of how disappointing it feels to be treated like a sneaky link” he says spitefully. And you’re stuck with a dumb look on your face.

You scoff lost at his words.

“if you want me, you’re going to have to get to know me” he chuckles looking at your face.

“Otherwise I’m off the table ”

He doesn’t think you’ll change your mind cause he’s just your tutor after all, nothing special.

You watch him walk to the door and open it.

You get the hint but you’re just so confused, you thought it was obvious that you weren’t looking for anything serious.

Without saying a word you scoff confused and walk out.

You actually can’t fucking believe it.

--

:)

[thecapricunt1616]

Blue Lotus - SxC One-Shot

♡ O/S Inspo: Blue Lotus - In Vedic Hindu tradition, the lotus represents enlightenment as well as purity. It is the symbol of the consciousness rising out of the mud of Maya and attaining its original nature or self-realization. 

♡ Summary: Carmen accidentally almost checks out of life permanently due to a migraine fucking up his vision, and Sugar flips & sends him off to a trauma rehabilitation center, Syd is realizing she finds it extremely hard to stay away from him.

♡ W/C: 7,616

♡ Posted Date: 04/06/2024

♡ A/N: This is my first SydCarmy fic aaa!!! I have a hard time writing in 3rd unless its not my characters, so writing in 3rd for them was okay! This OS is all thanks to the LOML - the person who FULLY turned me into a #SydCarmy4Lifer - @gingergofastboatsmojito - This fic was HEAVILY - heavily, inspired by hers - Tucson, It can be found right ❀ here ❀ - My only request is you go read hers if you are going to read this one!! Her SydCarmy fics are the best, and the only ones I really read, give her a follow because her SydCarmy theories are also out of this world. Also, YES GINGER - Stardust is .... a horse - ol' girl TOLD THEM she'd always be watching!! If you'd like to meet Madame in her human form, mosey on over here - this fic also heavily inspired me to write for SydCarmy hahaha. If y'all want more of Blue Lotus let me know! I have ideas for a PT 2 if it would fancy anyone :)

♡ Warnings for BTC: Accidental OD , Vomit, Sad Syd, but fluffy kinda!! Only lightly edited (we die like men), OC Carmy (IM SORRY) we all know he's down bad for her so maybe this can be considered IC Carm, because were just in his head more then watching him? But that's all basically.

➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡

Carmen was sick as a dog. Well - physically- the mental demons never stopped nagging at his overall happiness level, but it had been a long time since he’d felt this horrible, physically speaking, at least. 

His muscles were aching, to the point any brush on his skin left a dull pain in its wake. His throat was swollen and sore, he had a terrible fever- his head felt like it was so full of pressure that it would explode. 

He’d never experienced a headache like this before. His vision was actually spotty, there were little blotches in his vision, that were... glowing? He wasn’t quite sure, it was beyond the realm of anything he’d ever felt or seen before. 

That was what must have caused him to grab his black bottle of oxydose he’d gotten after a root canal he had a few months back- rather then his liquid Zyrtec cold and flu liquid medicine. 

The pain in his head was so bad, he didn’t even question why the usual cherry flavor had been replaced with bubblegum, as he swallows straight from the bottle, before putting the cap back on and going back to the couch, collapsing in the nest of pillows and blankets. 

It was only about 10 minutes, and Carmy was feeling fine- no…Carmen was feeling… amazing. 

His limbs all felt very heavy, but he felt warm, and comfortable. As comfortable as he’d ever felt. He actually found himself thinking ‘have I ever felt this good?!’ And before he knew it, he was laughing to himself about how he should double dose cold medicine more often, because he felt as if he was on cloud fucking nine. 

He laid back on the couch, closing his eyes, and wasn’t sure just how long he laid there that way. It could have been minutes, hours, days for all he knew. The only thing he was thinking of, was her. He began wondering what she was doing right now, if she was adorably leaned over the counter, writing in her little notebook- her braids cascaded over her face like a beautiful beaded curtain. 

If the blood in his arms hadn’t been replaced with cement, he’d have grabbed his phone and called her, and poured out his entire heart to her. Because nothing else in the world right now mattered. Carmen had no other thoughts, the past didn’t exist, nor did the future. The only thing that existed in this world at this very moment, was Sydney. 

‘Psssst’ 

Carmen opens his heavy lids, just barely, his vision was blurry and almost doubled. “Mmm?” He hums, not even sure if he heard someone- or why he would hear someone. He lived alone, and didn’t hear anyone come in. 

‘Yo. Dipshit.’ Carmen knew that voice anywhere. 

“What?” Carmy looked around, and knew something was very amiss, when his brother was standing there in his living room, looking at him. He had this ethereal glow to him. 

“What the fuck” Carmen said, sitting back on the couch, rubbing his eyes.  

‘You’re nodding out right now. Here’s what y’gonna do.’ 

Carmen couldn’t do anything but nod his head obediently, was Mikey really here? He couldn’t be- he was hallucinating. 

“Monkey are you here?” Carmen asks softly, rubbing his eyes again to see if he would disappear. He didn’t. 

‘I’m as here as you’ll be if Y’don’t listen. Crawl to the fucking bathroom and throw up. She’s gonna be here f’you, don’t fight her’ 

Before Carmy could look back at him and question what he meant - he was gone. 

Carmen suddenly felt…much too hot. He tried getting up, but narrowly missed bashing his skull on the coffee table trying to get to the bathroom, so he decided to take his wise older brother's advice and crawl there instead. 

He didn’t finish the journey, though. He actually collapsed in the bathroom a few feet in front of the toilet, luckily on his stomach. 

He was catching all sorts of luck today, because Syd had insisted she go and check on Carmy, as he was supposed to be at work today but hadn’t said a word- and that was nothing like him. 

She got the extra key from Nat, and told her she would go check because ‘Pregnant women have by nature weaker immune systems’ and would blame herself if she ‘let Carmen get her sick’, so she convinced Sugar to let her go by herself. 

When Sydney had opened the door, the first thing that greeted her was loads of empty Gatorade bottles on the coffee table near the couch, and a random French cooking show playing on the tv. 

“Carm?” She calls, but when she saw one of his feet sticking out from the bathroom, she dropped her bag and ran, gasping when she saw him splayed out there in a puddle of vomit, looking sickly pale, with dark blue lips and fingertips. 

“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO YOURSELF!” She shrieked, getting him on his side as fast as she could and quickly pushing the emergency button on her phone, putting the call on speaker and setting it to the bathroom counter. 

“Carmen? CARMEN! Wake up!” She slapped his arm, shaking him violently. “Carmen! Oh- oh god.” She said nervously. 

‘911 do you need fire, medical, or police?’ The woman at the other end says. 

“Medical! Medical my friend- oh god Carmen” she shakes his shoulders. 

“Okay what’s your emergency?” The operator asks 

“Uhh- I- he’s- so he’s thrown up, he’s passed out, his pulse is weak- he- his lips- t-they’re blue. oh Carmy” she touches his cold clammy forehead. “He- he’s- he’s cold oh my god why is he COLD can you fucking send someone Jesus Christ!” Sydney snaps angrily. 

“Okay- it sounds like he is having an opioid crisis ma’am, do you have narcan available?” The operator asked her and Syds heart drops. 

“No- what? No! He- he wouldn’t- his brother- he…get here!” She said frantically and quickly told her the address of Carmen’s apartment complex.

“Yes, yes you’re calling on an Iphone, ma’am - we have your exact coordinates. Just in case - do not try to make him throw up more, make sure his airway is clear- what is your name?” The woman asked her. 

“Sydney- my name is fucking Sydney - but it doesn’t matter! He matters! My god! His name is Carmen- C-Carmen fucking Berzatto! Put that in your notes lady! He- he’s 31- where the fuck is the ambulance?!” She uses all of her strength to get him leaned up against the counter. 

His vomit was getting everywhere, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t find a way to care, the only thing that mattered to her was that each breath Carmy was taking looked more and more difficult. 

“They are en route! Remain calm, how long have you known this friend?” The Operator tried to distract Sydney, since there was only so much you could do for an OD patient if there was no narcan. 

“He- he’s my…my partner we run a restaurant together. This doesn’t matter! Save him. Please! I can’t loose him!” She said, shaking his shoulders. 

“Carmen! You fucking asshole! What did you do!!!” She shouts at him. “You would never do this! What did you do!!!” She couldn’t stop the tears from flowing, it didn’t matter though- Carmen wasn’t awake to see it. 

No, Carmen was far, far away. Somewhere floating between life and death, he felt like he was being embraced in the warmest most comforting hug he’d ever felt, he’d never been more comfortable in his life. 

But Syd, was in hell. Her own personal version of it. It felt like a lifetime before 2 paramedics came barreling into the bathroom, one of them holds Carmys head steady and the other sprays a full dosage of narcan in his nose. 

Sydney stood in the corner near the shower, shaking hands cupping her face absolutely terrified. 

Carmen was up now, nearly the second the paramedic hit the plunger release. He sits up with a gasp, eyes wide like a caged animal. 

“What the fuck.” He mumbles, looking at both of them before meeting eyes with Syd. 

“Syd?” He blinks a few times. 

She lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding “you asshole” she grumbles, wiping her teary eyes. 

“You’re home, you’re safe, you overdosed. Do you take opioids often?” The paramedic asked, putting a blood pressure cuff around Carmen’s arm. 

“What? No- what the fuck don’t touch me!” Carmen snaps, ripping off the cuff and whipping it across the bathroom “stop- stop! Stop touching me- get away” he shouted angrily “I’m fine” he hissed. 

“CARMEN!” Sydney barks, she’d never used that tone with him- so it was fair to say it very quickly got his attention. 

“You will let them do their job, dick. I just- I- I find you in a puddle of your own vomit on the bathroom floor- I couldn’t wake you up! So now? you’re gonna listen to them.” She said angrily, grabbing the blood pressure cuff from next to her leg where it fell and handing it back to the paramedic.

“Give him your arm.” She snipped. 

Carmen sits back against the bathroom wall like a dog being scolded, wordlessly offering his arm to the paramedic and keeping his gaze fixed on his lap. 

“192 over 96” the paramedic told the other. 

“Christ kid” the paramedic said, “gave you a fuckin dose of narcan and y’wired like y’re on coke” they helped him up and on the gurney. 

“Hes- he’s gonna be okay?” Sydney asked anxiously, watching as they buckled him in by his hips and legs. 

“He's gonna be fine in a day or so.” One of them responded. Carmen just looked away, the shame and embarrassment already looming over his mind like a huge storm cloud. 

“I’m gonna…I’ll- I’ll clean up, and meet you at the hospital, ok? And I’ll have sugar meet you” she told Carmen and went over, giving him a hug. 

He couldn’t understand. It made him slightly angry how sweet she was being to him. He was putting her out, he was fully fucking up her whole day- but all she was worried about was him. 

“Syd..I’m fine. Thanks. But I’m fine. Don't- just…ugh no- please- I’ll do it. Just go- go home. take the day” He said, gently patting her back. 

He wanted to throw his arms around her and never let go, he wanted to kiss her- he wanted to hold her and tell her he would never leave her again. He wanted to tell her he loved her. 

But he didn’t. He wouldn’t, and he wasn’t sure if he ever would, or could for that matter, since he didn’t even realize yet that was what the feeling in his heart really meant. 

“Thank god. Thank god you’re fine, Carm. What would I do without the biggest pain in my ass?” She teased. 

Even though Carmen was hurting all over in a way he didn’t realize was possible, his lungs were aching, as was his entire body, and he felt as if the pressure behind his eyes were going to make them pop out - he smiled. It was slight, of course. But it was there. 

“Couldn’t get rid’a’me if y’tried, Syd.” he told her. 

The ride to the hospital was Carmen’s nightmare. They insisted on the stupid flashing lights and sirens, since his blood pressure was ‘dangerously high’ so he was at risk for a heart attack, and then rolling him out on a stretcher in front of all his neighbors was nothing short of a god damn dumpster fire. 

He was never home, but like hell he’d ever intentionally show his face during the day again. 

The hospital was even worse, he got plugged in to all these monitors and had an oxygen mask, got poked and prodded with needles, and was told he was being put on a 24 hour psych hold per hospital policy after an overdose- just in case he’d been trying to end his own life. 

Sugar got there shortly after the nurses had finally let him be, when he heard her loudly telling them “CARMEN! BERZATTO! Like bear! B-e-r-z-a-t-t-o!!! Where IS HE !” He ripped off the oxygen mask, knowing if she saw him that way he’d never live it down. 

Even though it really was helping ease the ache in his lungs and the pain in his head, he was willing to deal with it for his very pregnant sister not to worry. 

Her heels click as she storms down the hall to his room, ripping the curtain back. 

“Oh- Bear” she said, bursting into tears and rushing up to him, hugging him tightly. “Oh my god, bear. Never do that! What did you do? No- no- you aren’t in trouble, you aren’t in trouble, Carmen. I love you. You just worried me! You made Sydney cry Carmy! What the fuck- what happened?” She cupped his cheeks, observing his exhausted face. 

“Oh you’re sick- you’re so sick- Carmy” she felt his forehead and cheeks with the back of her hand like she did when they were kids. “It was an accident, right, right Bear? You wouldn’t do this?” She said, more pleading him than asking.  

“No. No. No sug, no- I- I’d never. I just fucked up! I’m fine. I’m fine. C’mere” he hugs her close, kissing her head gently. “Stress isn’t good for the baby bear” he joked, hoping it would get her to lighten up. 

“Carmy stop” she pushed away, looking at him seriously. “No. No. This isn’t okay- nothing - nothing about this is okay, bear! You almost died! Syd said- “ she shook her head. “Carmy. I- we can’t do this. We can’t. You’re right.” She sniffled, sitting back in the chair next to his hospital bed and wiping her tears. 

“What- what do you mean?” He sat up a bit. 

“I- if you….i can’t watch you like this anymore, Carmy. I can’t- I can’t see you wither away. Fucking emotionally anymore. It’s killing me. It’s hurting-“ she took a shaking breath. 

“It’s hurting your niece. Carmen. I can’t do it anymore. here.” She dug around her purse, pulling out a brochure. 

“Go- go. Get out of fucking Chicago, Carm. This place- I-i heard of it” she sniffled “its stupid-“ she laughed a bit, shaking her head. “So stupid, fuckin this..this Astrologer. She said in her podcast that this is the best place to go based on the location? I dunno…it’s a therapy place” she said. 

Carmen looked at the Brochure, his brows raising. 

‘Blue Lotus Trauma Therapy Rehabilitation Center’ the front contained photos of absolutely breathtaking pine trees, mountains, as well as red cabins. 

‘Blue Lotus is tucked safely away on Big Bear Lake in Big Bear, CA. Come and experience an inpatient by day, outpatient by night 30 day program, along with 15 days of sole inpatient TF-CBT therapy, focused on your direct needs as a patient. We specialize here at Big Bear in Equestrian Therapy, and Cattle Therapy. Enjoy hiking on hundreds of miles of breathtaking trails, and get to know the stunning haven that is Big Bear, California.’ 

“Horses.” Carmen looks at her, unwavered. 

“Yes! They say they like- get us or something? You’ll be back before I give birth. Go. Carmen. Go. Or- or I can’t work there, anymore it-“ she shakes her head, looking down at her swollen belly as hot thick tears stream down her cheeks. “It’s like watching Michael…again. In a different way” she said quietly, wiping her face and looking up at him once again. “Please.” She whispered. 

He shook his head, setting the stupid brochure down on the bedside table and laying back in the bed, grabbing the oxygen since his head was beginning to pound again and putting it back over his face, averting her worried gaze. 

“I don’t have the energy to call these people” he muttered, closing his eyes and resting his head back, hoping that would be the end of the conversation. 

“I- I already got you a bed. I called them…on the way over- I begged them. And they are willing to take you, Carmy. Please. I’ll pick your cabin and everything - you- you stay in a cabin after the 15 days and then for 30 you go back and forth. It sounds so nice, bear. I know they’re gonna take such good care of you think about it- please- will you go?” she got up, pulling him into a hug. 

“Thank you” she whispered after a few moments when he didn’t decline her. 

Carmen didn’t reply. If Sugar really thought that stupid place would make him ‘change’ (if that was even possible) and if she really felt as if it was affecting her child that was growing inside of her- he would give it a try. Even though he felt as if it would be just another money pit in the name of ‘mental health’ that didn’t do a thing. 

“There’s dead man walkin’!” Richie said, Syd following in behind him. 

“Stop! Don’t call him that Richie it was scary!” Syd shoves his shoulder. 

Carmen grabbed the brochure, quickly tucking it under the blanket. 

“Fuck you, cousin” Carmy said, his voice all nasally and low from his flu or whatever the fuck he’d picked up, that had led him to giving himself a cocktail of meds that almost sent him to Michael prematurely by total mistake. 

“Carmen is leaving. As soon as he’s released. So- get your time in he won’t be home for a month or two” Sugar said and sat down, not budging on the issue. 

Carm just rolled his eyes, laying his head back and wanting to melt into a puddle on the floor, but at the same time, he also wanted to pull Syd into the stupidly small hospital bed, and hold her to him, never letting her go. 

“You are?” Syd asked, coming to his bedside and meeting his gaze. 

He just stared at her. Wordlessly, he pulled out the crumpled brochure and offered it to her. She took it, looking at it. Richie comes over as well, peeking over Syd’s shoulder to read. 

“Equestrian therapy? Gonna go play with some horsies Carm?” He teased, his smugness being wiped off his face when Syd stomps on his foot with most of her weight, causing him to whine in pain. 

“Woops! Maybe you should learn some personal fucking space asshole” she shoved back in to him so he would take a few steps back. 

“Ow!” He said dramatically, plopping next to Sugar who was also glaring at him with equal fire. 

“Okay- okay- sorry fuckin hell. The kid is fine” he said and Carmen motions to him. 

“See! See! Jagoff is right sometimes” he said to Syd and she shook her head. 

“This…is good. This is really good. I’m for this.” She said, looking at Sugar before handing the brochure back to him. “I’m… gonna miss you, but…you need to get the fuck out. Like really, out, Carm.” She told him. 

He sighed deeply, resting his head back and closing his eyes once more. 

Whatever will make Syd happy, he would do, no matter the amount of discomfort it brought him. 

“Fine.” He mumbled.  

“Really?” Sugar asked him and he looked over at her, brows slightly furrowed. 

��Want me to fuckin fight you about it?” He snipped, already annoyed with how easy he was giving in- but he was too exhausted to fight, and Syds lavender perfume was so comforting, and so familiar. He just wanted everyone except Syd to leave, and to be able to hold her. 

That wasn’t going to happen though, probably ever was what he’d told himself. No, that would be too good, the universe would be much too kind to Carmy as to let him have the ultimate pleasure and enjoyment that would come from being with her in that way. 

“No…no. I’m sorry. Thank you, Bear. I know this is gonna be good”  Sugar said quietly. 

The doctor came in, saving Carmen from the uncomfortable conversation. “Hello again, Mr.Berzatto. I have your results here- is this okay company? If not I can have them step out for a moment” she’d said. 

Carmen had already completely forgotten her name, her name to him was simple - not Claire. Which was the only good thing to happen to him today. 

“As long as I’m not dying cause these two will pitch a fit. You can go ahead” he said, sitting up slightly in the bed. 

“No, no. you are very healthy, well- for the most part. Does your family have a history of high blood pressure?” She asked, sitting in the rolling chair next to the bed and holding her tablet in her lap. 

“Dad. Dad did, bear.” Sugar said. 

“Oh! Lovely- and did dad also have chronic treatment resistant depression?” The doctor turns to her. 

“I- I don’t know but…I know he was depressed for sure.” Sugar replied honestly. 

“And I know per your file you’re a smoker, heavy or moderate?” The doctor asked 

“Heavy” Syd buts in and Carmen didn’t even have the energy to fight either of the women. 

“So heavy is a pack plus a day does that sound average?” The doctor asked Carmy and he nods a bit. 

“Sometimes…sometimes two. Depending on uh…how shit is” he cleared his throat. 

“Yeah, so we’re gonna need to reduce as much as we possibly can. And we’re also going to speak about treatment options. Have you ever done mental therapy?” She asked Carmen. 

“He’s getting help. Don’t worry” Sugar said, “he’s going to do a therapy program. Blue lotus? Heard of it?” She asked. 

The doctor nods with a slight smile. “That would be wonderful for you, by the looks of your chart.” She got up. 

“Visiting hours are over at 10 pm, he will need to remain here until at least 1 pm tomorrow afternoon- then he’s yours.” She headed towards the door, shutting the privacy curtain behind her before closing the door. 

Richie chuckled “hack job name” he muttered, rubbing his face tiredly. 

“What was her name?” Sugar looked over at him. 

“Doctor Ginseng?” He said, “isn’t that a- a fuckin-“ 

“A root. A very expensive, luxurious root. It can be put into tea, or soup…the native people of China believe it has properties that make your body better deal with stress” Syd said absentmindedly, staring at the clock while nervously twirling the end of one of her braids. 

“She got it” Carm said and the corners of his lips tugged into a smile, just a bit. He absolutely adored the way if Syd wasn’t beating him to the punch when someone asked a random food question- that she was teaching him something. 

Even after years in the kitchen, the hundreds of hours watching cooking shows, Sydney still managed to teach him. He was utterly amazed by her every single day. 

“That’s a good idea. I- I think we have some. Back at the restaurant. All the stuff here will be shit- I’m gonna make you tea. And soup.” she got up, grabbing her bag. “Don’t fucking die when I’m gone, Kay? Guess you need that reminder now” she told him. 

He rolled his eyes slightly “Y’don’t have t’fuckin make me tea Syd. I’m fine.” He said, but something deep inside him yearned for Syd to take care of him. He craved it. 

“I’m making the tea, and you’re drinking the tea. Be back soon” she said before heading out.

Sydney had stuffed Carm full of pastina chicken soup and warm ginseng tea with lemon, ginger root, and plenty of local honey. As well as sourdough bread that Marcus had made fresh that morning. 

They sat and talked, just the two of them for hours until visiting hours were over. The nurse had to actually warn them both that she’d told them 4 times already it was past visiting hours and she ‘wasn’t afraid to have people removed’ before Sydney finally hugged Carmy goodbye and left. 

They both took his leaving for 45 days extremely serious. They’d joked together about just how quickly and casually Sugar had whipped out the information, all put together so neatly - it was quite obvious she’d been waiting for an opportunity to ship Carmen off here. 

They laughed a bit, and shared stories, and of course Carm answered any and every question Syd had about running the restaurant on her own while he was going to be away. 

Syd had even pulled a chair up to the bed at one point, resting her legs across the mattress after taking her shoes off, and her legs were draped across his own. He didn’t dare say anything, though. He was relishing in the feeling of closeness with her, even if it was as close as they’d ever be.  

Syd had actually made him so excited that the nurse had come in when she first came back and Carmy realized they’d be alone, to realize he was perfectly fine- his heart had just settled at a new pace since she was around. 

He was feeling worlds better by the time he’d gotten to the airport on Sunday morning. He’d spent the rest of Saturday evening at Sugars after he’d been discharged from the hospital, and had one last close family meal with Syd, Richie, Nat, and Pete, well, Pete was a must - he couldn’t uninvite the man from his own house, unfortunately. 

Carmen would be in a hotel in Big Bear, California by nightfall, and by the following morning he’d be starting his 15 day inpatient stint at ‘Blue Lotus Trauma Therapy Rehabilitation Center’ tucked away on a farm, in a dip of Big Bear Lake. How fitting. 

The parking lot of the airport was full of tears, not from Carmy- of course, but a very tearful Sugar, who’d conveniently spent the rest of his hospital stay packing him 2 weeks of clothes to cycle through, explaining phones were allowed- but they gave the toiletries, since it was a mental health center after all. 

She kept hugging him, kissing his cheeks- as if she was sending him to war and not a fucking treatment center. “Is there…somethin’ I’m missing- am I never coming back er somethin are you selling me to some weird chef collector?” Carmen teased, getting at least a small giggle from her. 

“God no. I just… this will work Carmy. It has to work. You’ll get better, okay? It’ll all be fine.” She wiped her face. He nodded a bit. 

“It’ll work.” He said, he wasn’t sure if he believed it- but if it got her to stop feeling so sad, he would agree. 

“I love you, be safe ok?” She said for the millionth time “and remember look at your phone I sent you-“ 

“The flight number, Nat. I love you. Thank you again” he kissed her cheek, grabbing his suitcase and opening his texts, clicking his flight number she sent him. 

“Gate D11! Thank you Nat. Gotta go now- unless…” he teased. 

She smiled a bit, finally. “Get out of Chicago.” She pat his arm gently and got back in the car to a waiting Pete. 

The flight was okay, it felt much longer than he was expecting, but his anxiety told him a lot of things- he couldn’t trust minute things such as time and how he understands it anymore. The first thing he noticed upon landing was the stunning green, and the crisp air. 

The air felt…cleaner, then Chicago. It was chilly- since fall was quickly approaching. Carmen was suddenly grateful Nat had him put on a hoodie before leaving this afternoon. He had the entire evening to explore, and not be himself. 

He already was feeling some kind of new. He wasn’t here to work, definitely not to play, but he could enjoy himself, because he didn’t have to be him. At least not for the night. He opened the Uber app on his phone, booking a trip to the hotel to check in.  

When he’d gotten to the hotel and showered, dressing in some vintage Levi’s and a white long sleeve in trade for his short sleeve, along with his favorite plaid jacket. He had to get somewhere to see how people live here, how to be apart here, so he didn’t stick out like a sore thumb at this rehab place. 

He’d grabbed his backpack, slinging it over his shoulders and opened Apple Maps on his phone, looking for a park to go sit at and just be. He found a park close by, simply called ‘BearHill Park’ and following the walking directions. 

He’d missed his ventures to various parks in New York, but especially in Copenhagen. Copenhagen had the most beautiful sunsets Carmen had ever seen before. He missed it sometimes, not the work, but the life. It felt worlds more simple then his life now, where every relationship, every aspect of his job- was dripping with difficulty to manage it all. 

When he got to the park, he’d found an oak tree that looked well over 200 years old, getting situated under it and resting against the trunk, taking out a cigarette and lighting it.  

He watched a couple and a baby walking by, carefully though as he’d learned quickly as a child most people don’t take kindly to being looked at for more then a few moments at a time. But Carmen didn’t watch people in an odd way, of course. He was just wanting to observe, see how he should be. And in a place so new, so out of his ordinary all by himself, it was gonna take a lot of observing to get himself readjusted. 

He watched as the father pushed the carriage along, the mother holding his hand happily. They were far away so he couldn’t hear what they were speaking about, but it must be funny because their heads were tilted back in laughter multiple points throughout the conversation as they continued on. 

He continued on his cigarette, his eyes now finding a younger couple. He sat up a bit, leaning further against the tree to get a better look. From behind, the woman reminded him a lot of Syd, of course it wasn’t- but it was also the way her boyfriend or- husband- Carmen wasn’t emotionally advanced enough to look for a ring, he’d never needed to before.

It was how his arms were covered in tattoos, and his hair was a muss of dirty blonde curls like his. It was how the woman was beautifully tall, with stunning long black braids, and a floral scarf tied around the top of her head. She was much more…boisterous then Syd, but none the less. They looked like them in another world.  

So not only, has this other man, found his Syd, the universe was determined to rub Carmen’s nose in it, or that’s how he took it, anyhow. 

He scoffed a bit, rolling his eyes and looking the other way. Of course. He thought. Everyone can be happy but me. I’m headed to adult crazy camp! And those two are just, fuckin happy and in love. 

The girl laughed loudly, causing Carmen to look back over. “CAMREN!” She squeaked as he tickled her. “Cam! Stop- I-I can’t breathe!! You asshole” she punched his shoulder playfully. 

“Do you give up?! Say it!!!” The man countered, continuing the assault on her sides. 

“No- NO! This- this is cheating!” She said, interrupted by her own laughs. 

“Cheating?! No, I'm getting what’s rightfully mine Scarlett!” He pinned her arms above her head. 

Carmen now looked away. He couldn’t help but think of Syd while watching them, and think of everything he was too pussy to pull off. He wished he could take Syd somewhere like this, but who would run the restaurant, and why would she say yes. 

He’d finished his cigarette by the time the couple had left and he took out his sketchbook and the pen that lived inside of it. He looked at the recipe on his phone Syd had sent ‘Farro Mafaldine with browned Black Truffle Butter and Chanterelles mushrooms’ 

He had tried it for her, and he actually told her he wanted another bite to be sure he was ‘getting everything’ when really- it was just so fantastic he couldn’t stop at one single bite. 

“Syd that is…wow. Really, really fuckin fire. If it weren’t for the mushroom, we’d need that on the permanent menu. Have you tried others?” He’d asked. 

Syd just smiled and nodded, a lot of times she was around Carmen- she thanked god for her darker complexion, considering he made her feel overly hot, all the time. Nearly every time he spoke to her, and she wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t always this way. But ever since they opened the restaurant together- things had changed between them. Not for better, not for worse, the energy just… shifted. 

Carmen got lost in thought of Syd, and before he could realize what he was doing- he was drawing her. He rested his elbow on his knee, crouched over as he added details to each intricate little braid. It was one of Carmen’s favorite things about Sydney. 

No matter how she wore her hair, she looked absolutely beautiful. The braids, he did have to admit, were his favorite. Maybe it was because it was how her hair was when they met, but they interested him. He wanted to sit and watch her doing them. She told him a while back, she did them herself. 

Apparently, her mother wasn’t able to teach her- but she had cousins that could. She says it was usually much more expensive to have it done then just do it yourself, that part made sense to him. He was really impressed the first time he told her, she laughed a bit at that.  

‘Most of us do our own hair, I mean- unless you got it like that. But otherwise, just like the white girls we have to do it on our own’ Carmen blushed, feeling silly for not realizing. 

‘Yeah- yeah I..I get that but. I dunno…I’ve seen Sug do her hair…it seems easier” he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. 

‘Oh, well yeah, that’s why I only do mine every 6 weeks!’ She’d said, wiping down the counter. 

‘Really? Well that’s cool. I thought you like…I dunno.’ He chuckled a bit. 

‘That I went home, took out 200 plus braids, and then put them all back in before I come in every day?’ She teased. 

Now Carmen’s cheeks were bright red. ‘Okay- listen I’m not a girl. I wouldn’t know’ 

Carmen caught himself smiling at the memory. He looked up at the setting sky, and his heart fluttered a bit at the beauty of it. He’d realized he’d sat there now for probably 5 hours, his back was aching, but he didn’t care. 

He didn’t care because this was the most at peace he’d felt since moving back to the states. And he was alone. He snapped a photo of the gorgeous sunset with his phone, hitting the send button and hovering over Syds name for a moment, before deciding to click it. 

She did tell him to text her when she got settled in after all. 

In CA - this place lives up to the name. Never seen so many bear statues in my life. 

He sends the text, with the photo attached, not even realizing the photo had been a live capture, and you could fully see the drawing of Syd for half a second if you held the photo down. 

He put his phone back in his pocket, continuing on his drawing. Back in Chicago, Syd was very glad that she was working today- because the only thing on her mind otherwise was one single person. 

“Okay guys! I need some hands here- we got 3 dishes for table 13 let’s move! Keep up the pace!” She called out. She had already been here 12 hours, and wasn’t planning on being out for another 6. 

It was just how Sydney operated - she couldn’t sit and worry about Carmen. It would just unearth emotions she didn’t want to go searching for, and once they came up she was worried it would ruin absolutely everything she’d worked so hard to maintain. 

And back across the country, 2,000 miles away, Carmen was contently packing his backpack, getting up, and heading to a small diner he’d seen. He enjoyed a quiet burger to himself, in the corner booth, looking out the window at the water. 

The place truly was beautiful, and very hidden away. There were barely any cars here, it was fully the opposite of anywhere he’d stayed long term, and he was beginning to feel as if he needed that, he wouldn’t admit that to sugar, though. 

He’d gone back to his hotel, taken a shower, gotten in his pajamas, and was laid in bed, watching some random cooking show on the food network since the TV unfortunately didn’t have YouTube like his did. 

When Sydney had seen the photo, she almost didn’t realize it was live at first. She was also at home, finally in bed- but she was 2 hours ahead of Carmen- so instead of it being 11 pm- it was 1 am. She’d scrubbed the restaurant floor until she was sure someone could eat off it, and made sure every station was in perfect condition before returning home.  

She laid in bed with sore hands, a sore back, and sore knees, and sore- well, everything. When she finally had checked her phone and seen it. She smiled a bit at the comment about the bear statues, clicking the photo open to see more. 

It was a breathtaking sunset for sure. She went to close the photo, her thumb lingering because she saw a speck of white in the corner- and the photo started moving. For just a short moment she sees…. Herself? On the page of Carmen’s sketchbook.

She could feel her heart thumping in her throat. Why would he be drawing her? Unless- no! Keep the emotions buried! He is sick. He is so depressed- treatment resistant depression the doctor had said his chart showed. 

She swallowed thickly, not sure what to say back. Should she just ignore it? Should she mention it boldly? Should she just…forget about it and convince herself it didn’t happen? 

She typed and retyped the message multiple times, smiling to herself a bit as she jokingly typed out ‘pretty sunset, even prettier drawing.’ Before deleting it and retyping before hitting send;

fire sunset. so I take it big bear is treating the bear well so far?

Carmen looked at the message right away, smiling to himself a bit. She’d never called him bear before, something about it made his heart begin to race. 

According to Nat, bear+big bear = depression gone, I’ll let you know in a few days if that's the truth.

He wasn’t sure about the whole equestrian therapy thing still, but he did know that being here seemed to allow him to breathe a little easier- and he was already here, so he would try.

The first 5 days in the inpatient program were…quite the adjustment. That was because it was what he learned was the most intensive part of the treatment, and meant to break down your walls by setting you in a hard routine so you had no choice but to think about your shit. 

This included a wake-up time of 6 am, the lights in his inpatient room literally turned on, then at 7:30 was breakfast, then- at 8 am they had 1 hour of either equestrian class, which you learned how to begin caring for the horses, or an hour of tending to the cows - Carmen chose the Horses because he was not going to shovel cow shit. 

Then, you had a therapy class of your choice from 9-11:30, he chose art therapy. It didn’t feel like therapy to him, they got to draw, or paint. Carmen just sat by the window, drawing different recipes - or, more often than not, drawing Syd from memory. 

12:00 was lunch, 12:30-2:00 you had mandatory either equestrian therapy, or cattle therapy. Carmen was more drawn towards the cattle on hard days, and the horses on easier ones. This was because the hour of 3-4 was mandatory group therapy. That usually emotionally drained him until at least art therapy the following day, since to progress and complete the program- you need ‘participation points’ in your 15 day inpatient stay, before you’re trusted to be on your almost fully on your own for a whole 30 days. 

The horses were usually nervous around new people, so it was a challange to get them to trust him. While the cows, people in the group joked- were ‘giant grass puppies’ the therapy consisted of literally just laying with the lazy cows and cuddling them, and feeding them snacks, which they very much enjoyed, and Carmen found to be very soothing once he learned to douse himself in bug spray before heading in the pen so the flys would be out of his way.

Then, dinner was at 5, and afterwards you had the evening to yourself in your room, or you could walk the trails until they closed at sunset. In your room you could watch tv, read, and the residents were also allowed to have their cellphones.  

It was quite exhausting the first 5 days, but the second 5 he was getting into a groove at Blue Lotus. He was beginning to enjoy the hard manual work that came with working with the animals, and the time it took to build their trust. There was one particular horse Carmen had become fond of, a white horse named Stardust. Perfect name for her. 

When he looked in her eyes she felt more human then most people he met in real life. She was different then the other horses. He’d been told that she rarely took to men, and that he was the only male she’d never need startled by. He always took extra time brushing her mane, and they both seemed to appreciate eachothers silence. 

Carmen heard other people in stalls next to him, they would talk to the horses- dump their issues they were too afraid to tell their therapists out on them. He wondered if the horses ever got annoyed, he probably would if he was a horse. He smiled a bit at the thought, and it was almost as if Stardust could tell what he was thinking, because she turned her head and looked at him before snorting almost in agreement and sticking her head back out of the stall. 

Getting into outpatient life at lotus though, was as easy as falling into bed for Carmen. His inpatient stay, he made sure to take the time in the evenings to learn his favorite quiet trails, the ones less taken usually, so when he graduated to outpatient - he could take stardust for rides on his own.

 It took them about 3 days to get to know each other in that regard, it was mostly Carmen’s fault though he realized, because when he’d get nervous he’d pull on her reigns in such a way that she thought he meant for her to go faster - when it was the opposite. But, Stardust was so, so patient with Carmen. 

He made sure to sneak her extra apples with a small drizzle of honey in return, so she knew her patience with him always came with great reward. 

Carmen had been gone for about a month now, he and Syd would text intermittently, sugar was sure to call once a week and they’d talk for about an hour. But it was mostly quiet from Carmen’s end, he had told them it was because he was usually out, all day long unless he was at therapy. 

It was day 19 of the outpatient part of the program, so he had just 11 days left. He had just finished his morning art therapy, and was in the stables tending to stardust, feeding her slices of pumpkin they’d had in the snack bucket for the horses today. “Come onnn- the tongue, really star” he wipes his wet hand on his jeans and she nudged his shoulder with his nose, asking for more. 

“You are greedy! I’m always the first one in here y’gotta leave some for the rest of these guys!” He grabbed another piece of pumpkin, feeding it to her. 

“And this is our horse stable, he spends a lot of time out here” Carmen heard one of the employees likely giving someone a tour, only half listening. 

Stardust snorts at him, nudging his chest and he rubs her neck gently. “What is it? Y’done? Pumpkin not good enough for ya? No honey apples until after our ride or Y’don’t listen missy” he pats her head gently. 

“I didn’t take you for a horse guy but I guess drop anyone off in the middle of nowhere and you’d be surprised. 34 days and you went full fuckin’ cowboy on me- are those boots, Carm? ” An all too familiar voice said from the large open sliding door of the stable He looked at stardust for a moment, he must be dreaming, or ODing again. Maybe he died, and had been dead the entire time. Because there was no way he could believe Sydney Adamu was standing behind him, 2000 miles away from their shared city, in Big Bear, California.

➵ 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 ♡♡♡ ⋙

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

The Love Game - Hangman and ?

Pairing: Hangman / Fem! Reader (Glitch) (Unrequited); Hangman / OC (Haley); Fem!Reader (Glitch) / Mystery Dagger

Word Count: 3.5k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only

Warnings: Unrequited Love; Angst; Emotional Angst; One-Sided Relationship; ‘He’s in Love with Someone Else’ Trope; Female Reader with a Callsign (Glitch), No Y/N, No Physical Description, Third Person POV; No Physical Description of any OCs

Summary: Glitch has been in love with Hangman for years but he’s getting married to another woman.

Master List

“I’m getting married.”

Glitch froze in her seat, staring at Hangman with wide eyes. When Hangman said that he wanted to take them out for drinks for some special announcement, she assumed that he got a promotion or something like that. Marriage? Hangman was getting married?

Beside Glitch, Coyote was similarly shocked, but he seemed to snap out of his stupor first.

“Congrats, man,” Coyote stated, clapping Hangman on the shoulder. “We’re so happy for you.”

Coyote smiled, though he was shooting worried glances out of the corner of his eye in Glitch’s direction. Why? Because Coyote knew that Glitch may or may not have been slightly—read: heavily—in love with Hangman. When Glitch didn’t speak, Coyote moved to fill the silence again.

“So, how did you propose?”

“I did it on the beach. In front of the sunset. There was a whole bunch of people mingling around and she, of course, said yes, and they all started clapping and everything,” Hangman explained proudly, his usual proud disposition shining through. “And hell, she gave me one hell of a kiss out there.”

“You’re getting married?” Glitch asked Hangman quietly, like she was stuck in the past five minutes.

“Yeah, Glitch, I’m getting married,” Hangman laughed, nudging her with his elbow. Noting the lack of color on Glitch’s face, Hangman leaned over a little bit more towards her with a suddenly serious expression. “You alright?”

“Yeah, I think I just . . . ate too much dairy this morning,” Glitch lied pathetically, trying to compose herself. Shifting in her seat, she turned back to Hangman. “You’ve known her for what? Six months? And for half of that, we were all deployed. Are you really sure that this is a good idea? I mean, has she even met most of your whole family? Have you met most of hers?”

“You’re the one who told me that when you know, you know,” Jake reminded Glitch, taking a casual sip from his beer and missing her wince. “And I feel it in my heart that Haley’s the one for me. I know it’s a little fast, but we can catch up on steps later on down the line.”

“Okay,” Glitch replied softly, nodding along, and forcing a smile. “Then, I’m really happy for you, Jake.”

“I knew you’d come around,” Hangman mused, nudging Glitch in the side. “Hey, why don’t I buy us another round? And actually celebrate?”

Hangman walked off to the bar, leaving Coyote and Glitch by themselves at the table. Glitch reached for her beer that she had barely taken a sip from and slowly tipped it towards her lips. Coyote watched her with concern as she proceeded to chug the beer down to the last drop, never once slowing down. Setting the empty bottle down on the table, Glitch turned to look over at Coyote.

“Don’t feel bad for me, Javy,” she whispered, covering her mouth as a burp forced its way up. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?” Coyote asked, gesturing to her now empty beer.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. It’s not like he was mine to lose in the first place,” Glitch muttered bitterly, dropping her head again.

“Hey, I forgot to ask, but did you guys want to be in the wedding party?” Hangman asked, walking back over with three cold beers. “Coyote, you’re my first pick for best man.”

“I’d be offended if I wasn’t,” Coyote stated with a smirk and nod.

“And, Glitch, Haley was wondering if you’d be one of her bridesmaids,” Hangman offered to Glitch, who had to force a smile even though she felt like she was dying on the inside. “You know, since you’re like the only woman that I’m not related to that has managed to put up with me for so long.”

“I’d be honored,” Glitch replied, forcing another smile. “Thanks, Hangman.”

“Anytime.”

~~~~~

Glitch stayed to the back of the group as they walked around the wedding shop. Haley, Hangman’s fiancée, and two of her friends invited Glitch along to help them pick out wedding invitations and the other small details that Jake said he didn’t need to be consulted on. He even said that with Glitch there, his opinion was represented well enough be.

Glitch walked around the store, staying close enough to Haley and her friends to hear their conversation, but far enough away that she wasn’t concerned with how loud her thoughts were. A salesperson approached Haley and started asking all kinds of questions about the wedding, Jake, and everything else in between.

Glitch stopped in front of a simple invitation and picked it up. Running her finger down the thick paper and smiling to herself at the simple joke on the card that she knew Jake would love, Glitch flipped it over to read the back of the invitation.

“Do you like that one, Glitch?” Haley asked, walking over to where Glitch was standing.

“Oh, yeah, I guess.” Handing it over to Haley, Glitch fiddled nervously with her purse. “I saw the joke and thought that Jake would find it hilarious.”

“Really?” Haley questioned, not sounding at all rude, just surprised. A little more surprised than the woman who was marrying Jake in a few short months should have been, but it wasn’t Glitch’s place to notice that. “I really do like the font though. And this little part here, that’s so cute.”

“We have ribbon that matches the color scheme that you were considering,” the salesperson spoke up, walking over to them.

“Perfect! Thank you! I’ll take a hundred fifty, please,” Haley stated, handing the invitation over to the salesperson. “And thanks for the find, Glitch.”

“Of course,” Glitch breathed out, trying to keep her voice level. “Anytime.”

~~~~~

They went to pick out flowers next and Glitch tried to just stay out of the way. She didn’t want to overstep and start telling Haley what she knew that Jake would like. She was just here for additional support, and so, she would just trail behind Haley and her friends.

“Ooh, what if I added some of these to the bouquets?” Haley suggested, picking up some baby’s breath. “That would complete them perfectly!”

“That looks amazing, Haley,” one of her friends added, nodding along supportively.

“Um,” Glitch spoke up softly, causing Haley and her friends to turn around. “They look beautiful, Haley, they really do. But . . . Jake’s allergic to baby’s breath. They make him sneeze like crazy.”

“Oh, shit, you’re right,” Haley gasped, dropping the baby’s breath back into the container that she plucked it from. “Good catch, Glitch!”

“Of course,” Glitch replied quietly, folding her hands in front of her. “I think that they look beautiful with the other flowers that you picked out.”

“Yeah, let’s not overcomplicate it,” one of Haley’s friends agreed, inspecting the bouquet that they already put together.

“Great! Let’s get them ordered and grab a drink!” Haley suggested peppily, grabbing the bouquet.

Silently trailing behind Haley and her friends, Glitch studied the flowers in the pots lining the store. Stopping in front of a collection of daisies, Glitch remembered the stories that Jake would tell her about how his dad always brought his mom daisies and how the flowers were always found around the Seresin house on special occasions.

Glitch gently suggested them, but Haley and her friends went in a different direction. And that was fine. It was Haley’s wedding and Jake didn’t show up to tell her about the daisies, so Glitch would leave it be. Squatting down at bit, Glitch inspected the delicate petals of one of the daisies.

She always thought that the daises would look beautiful as part of a flower crown. Perhaps as a headpiece for a bride. Something simple and natural, but yet so beautiful and delicate that would compliment the white of her veil and dress.

“Glitch, you coming?” Haley called, breaking Glitch out of her thoughts.

“Yeah, sorry. I’ll be right there,” Glitch apologized, straightening up. And with one last glance back at the daisies, Glitch followed after Haley and her friends.

~~~~~

“Are you sure that you’re going to be alright?” Phoenix asked Glitch worriedly.

It was the rehearsal dinner before Hangman and Haley’s wedding and Phoenix and Glitch had taken up residence at the bar in the restaurant, away from the mess in the other room. No one had come looking for them yet and Glitch wasn’t going to move until someone did.

“I’m fine, Nix,” Glitch sighed, reaching for her drink. “I . . . I just . . . there’s a reason why grown adults shouldn’t get caught up in fairytales. Life isn’t a romcom.”

“Still, you’re allowed to be a little upset about it,” Phoenix stated, tapping her fingers on the bar top. “Hell, without you, there were a lot times that Hangman would have definitely fallen apart. And you’re one of about three people that he actually listens to.”

“I know,” Glitch replied softly, sipping at her drink. “Doesn’t change anything, though.”

“There you guys are,” Rooster huffed, walking over to them. “You left me to fend for myself!”

“You’re a big boy. You can handle yourself,” Phoenix mused, shaking her head at Rooster. “What? Can’t fend off two bridesmaids?”

“Not with their claws,” Rooster muttered, mocking the long nails that some of the bridesmaids got for the occasion. Shaking his head, Rooster’s expression softened as he turned to Glitch. “How’re you holding up?”

“I’m fine, okay? Would everyone stop asking me how I’m doing? The answer is fine,” Glitch groaned, dropping her head for a moment.

“Look, Hangman’s just blind,” Rooster stated, flagging down the bartender to order a beer. Turning back to Glitch, he leaned on the bar with a suggestive smirk. “But if you really want to get back at him, just call me. We can make out in the middle of the dance floor.”

“Oh, Rooster, you know just the right thing to say to make a girl feel better,” Glitch cooed sarcastically, patting him on the cheek. “But I’m all set.”

“Well, if I’m not to your taste, I’m sure that we can find someone else at this wedding who is,” Rooster stated, raising his eyebrows.

“I’m fine, Rooster. Don’t worry about me,” Glitch insisted, leaning back. “He’s getting married. That’s it. There’s nothing else to say or do about it.”  

“Except move on,” Phoenix pointed out, earning a nod from Rooster.

“Yeah,” Glitch murmured, lost in her thoughts. “It’s time to move on.”

~~~~~

“I pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride!” the officiant proclaimed loudly.

Standing at the end of the line of bridesmaids, Glitch clapped along with the crowd as Hangman and Haley shared their first kiss as a married couple. Letting out a breath, she let the tension leave her body as she watched Jake and Haley walk down the aisle hand in hand.

The rest of the guests, including most of the Daggers save for Coyote and Glitch, moved onto the reception hall for cocktail hour while the wedding party headed for the outdoor set up for photos. Glitch smiled and posed for all of the photos that she was included in, itching to leave.

It wasn’t so much that she couldn’t emotionally stand to see Jake and Haley kissing and hugging and frolicking in that newly wed bliss. But more that she was itching to step forward. To step away from it. She didn’t really belong there with Haley’s friends. And that was fine. She didn’t need to. She was there to support Jake and she did it.

Now, she wanted to move on.

“Are you okay?” Coyote whispered to Glitch as they shuffled around for another photo.

“I’m fine. Just ready to go,” Glitch replied, tugging on the fabric of her dress as it stuck to her sweaty skin. “It’s hot as hell out here.”

After a few more snaps, the extended wedding party was released. Everyone got in a file and congratulated the couple before heading off to their cars. Glitch pulled up the end of the line and moved to greet Haley, but the bride beat her to it.

“Thank you so much for being apart of this!” Haley told Glitch, pulling her in for a tight hug. “I couldn’t have done it without all your help!”

“Anytime,” Glitch assured Haley, hugging her back briefly. “Congratulations.”

Haley released Glitch and moved to talk to one of her friends, letting Glitch move onto Jake, who shot her that same look that used to make her heart flutter out of her chest. And Glitch would have been lying to herself if she said that he still didn’t have some kind of effect on her. But she didn’t want to be that mopey, whiny girl who didn’t get the dream guy.

She wanted to leave with her head held high, friendship intact, and peace in her heart.

“Congrats, Jake,” she breathed out before he moved forward and pulled her up into a tight hug. Laughing as he lifted her off the ground briefly, Glitch hugged him back. “I’m happy for you.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” Jake replied, setting her back on the ground. “Really, Glitch.”

“I know,” she returned confidently, causing Jake to chuckle. “You take good care of her, Jake.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he promised, giving you a mock salute.

“Good,” Glitch responded, taking a deep breath. “I’ll see you at the reception then?”

“I’ll be there,” Jake promised with a nod before they parted ways.

Turning for the parking lot, Glitch let out the breath that she had been holding in for what felt like the whole day. It was over. Hangman was married to Haley. And that was it. It was time to move on. To move forward. With a smile creeping up her lips, Glitch strode down the hill with far less weight on her shoulders than were there when she arrived.

Glitch walked into the reception hall and made a beeline towards the bar, where the Dagger Squad were gathered. They quickly turned around and greeted her, welcoming her into the fold of support that she knew she would be lost without.

“Hell, I need a drink,” Glitch groaned jokingly, hopping up onto one of the barstools.

“Way ahead of you,” Fanboy stated, sliding her go-to drink across the bar top. “And we saved you some of these too.”

Glitch let out a thankful laugh and slid the small plate that Fanboy offered to her over along with her drink. There were some perks to being there when most of the decisions were made—she got to make sure that the food that she wanted to eat was actually at the wedding. Picking up one of the appetizers from the cocktail hour, Glitch shot Fanboy a smile.

“You’re a lifesaver, Fanboy,” she praised, moving to catch up on the food and drinks she missed.

“How are you doing??” Bob asked softly, sending Glitch a supportive expression.

“I’m doing good. Thanks for asking, Bob,” Glitch returned, reaching for her drink. “I’m just glad that it’s all wrapping up.”

“Well, we’re all here for you if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Bobby,” Glitch replied, nudging Bob with her shoulder. “You’re the best.

“Hey,” Payback reminded Glitch, causing her to turn to him. “This is a wedding. A decently sized wedding. You’re young, beautiful, and most importantly single. Go out and get someone who’ll spend the whole night with you.”

“I’ll try,” Glitch mused, genuinely touched that the whole Dagger Squad was worried about her. “And I think that today really brought me some closure, so I’m ready to have some real fun for the first time in a couple months.”

“That’s what I like to hear!” Coyote cheered, walking over to the Daggers after returning from photo shoot. “Let’s have a drink on Hangman!”

The Dagger Squad, minus Hangman, hung out together for the rest of the night. They mingled with the other guests and danced around while enjoying the open bar. Feeling quite content, and decently buzzed, Glitch giggled at something that Payback said when Hangman approached them.

“Look who decided to finally acknowledge us,” Phoenix quipped, earning a playful look from Hangman.

“Hey, it’s my wedding. You have to be nice to me,” Hangman stated, coming to stop behind Glitch. “How’re you guys enjoying everything?” The Daggers all replied the typical polite responses to Hangman’s question before he turned to Glitch. “Can I talk to you?”

Glitch, sobering up a bit, nodded and set her drink down. The two of them excused themselves and walked through the room and out onto the balcony right outside of the venue. The doors were wide open, so everyone could see them, but it gave them some privacy to actually sit down and talk without fear of being overheard.

“What’s up?” Glitch asked, staring over at Hangman with concern.

“Nothing. Just . . . I wanted to thank you. Personally,” Hangman replied, speaking Glitch’s real name softly. “Really, I . . . I don’t know what I would have done without your help. What Haley would have done without your help with all of this.”

“Of course,” Glitch stated softly, resting her hands on the railing. “I’d do anything to help you out.”

“I know that. And I know that I haven’t always reciprocated it the best,” Hangman replied, causing Glitch to freeze for a moment. A bit of apprehension and tension pooled in her stomach as Hangman left her hanging briefly. “And I wanted to say that I’m sorry. I mean, when Haley told me that you picked out the invitations and stopped her from adding the baby’s breath . . . I never realized how good of a friend that you were to me. And I’m sorry that I didn’t notice it. Really, I am, Glitch.” 

“It’s okay,” Glitch returned softly.

“No, it’s really not,” Hangman stated firmly, causing Glitch to sober some more. “I really wasn’t the best friend to you. Not as good of one as I could have been. Hell, I’d have no idea what you would like at your wedding. And I’m really sorry, Glitch. And I want you to know that I’m really going to try and be a better friend to you going forward.”

“Water under the bridge,” Glitch returned, offering Hangman a small smile. “Let’s just move on.”

He returned it and offered his arms out for a hug. Glitch shot him a teasing look but let him pull her into a tight hug. She returned it and rested her head on his chest, soothing herself for a moment. But as soon as she was there, Glitch straightened up again. She wouldn’t let herself start down the rabbit hole. She was ending that. Tonight. Right then and there.

It was time to move on.

“Go. Be with your bride. I’ll be fine,” she told him, gesturing to the reception hall.

“Thanks, Glitch.”

Glitch watched Hangman reenter the reception hall and make his way over to Haley. Letting out a breath, she turned to stare out at the dark landscape. Letting the cool breeze blow back against her for a few moments, Glitch looked down to see a daisy on the ground. It must have fallen off of Jake, who had been carrying around a few earlier.

Leaning down, Glitch picked up the flower and studied it closely for a moment. She leaned back on the railing again and after a deep breath, she let it go. The flower blew a bit in the breeze before dropping into the darkness below. Gone.

“You alright?” a familiar voice called from behind Glitch, causing her to turn around.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Glitch assured them, straightening up with a small smile. “You didn’t have to come and check up on me, you know.”

“I know,” they returned, returning her smile. “What did Hangman want?”

“He just wanted to thank me for all my help over the years and . . . he apologized for not always being the best friend back. And we’re good. I’m good,” Glitch assured them, standing with more confidence and self-assurance than they had seen her in some time.

“I’m glad,” they returned kindly.

Glitch was about to say something else when she heard the new song echo from the speakers. Instantly perking up, Glitch let out a laugh.

“God, I love this song!”

“I know. Who do you think asked the DJ to play it?” they asked softly, causing Glitch to turn to them with wide eyes.

Unable to fight her smile, Glitch glanced down at the wooden deck before turning back to them. With a sparkle in her that hadn’t been there for some time, she held out a hand to them and tried to hold onto her composure.

“Well, aren’t you going to come dance with me?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.

“I thought you’d never ask,” they replied happily, taking her outstretched hand.

A.N. Who do you think that the Mystery Dagger is??? I wrote it with one in mind but decided to leave it open ended, so I’m curious who y’all interpret as the Mystery Dagger

[staytheword]

thanks for the memories (lmly, part one)

thanks for the memories — part one of leave me loving you [→ part two] [series masterlist] [general masterlist]

this series (and this blog) are 18+ !! minors, please do not interact!! if you interact with my writing please have a profile picture and short bio indicating your age. it helps me make sure you are not a bot!!

• han jisung x female reader, all other stray kids members are featured. other idols are mentioned briefly (ateez's wooyoung, itzy's yuna).

• non idol au, rock band au. drinking, partying, explicit language, explicit smut. oral sex (f receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, protected sex. (let me know if missed any warnings)

• word count: 11.6k

There’s only one person there, sitting on the edge of the stage, swinging his legs and looking around. For a second you think your eyes must be deceiving you, but it’s him. Han Jisung.

• permanent taglist: @ughbehavior ; @upallnight-s ; @changbinluvr ; @rosexjimin ; @nasiaisan ; @lotus-dly ; @cb97percent ; @j-0ne25 ; @hwan-g ; @jhopesucker ; @tanyas97 ; @raspbinniecreme ; @septicrebel ; @imtoooyoungforthisshit

• story taglist: @mintquokka ; @is2cb97 ; @dirah-h ; @bokk-minnie ; @allypasta ; @strawberriesandknives ; @drhsthl ; @hyunjins-red-lights ; @thesunsfullmoon (hope I didn't forget anyone, sorry if I did I have an awful memory!)

• author’s note: hello ♡!! here is part one of the series! thank you so much for all the support you've given me, it's really heartwarming :') I really really hope you'll enjoy this (can you tell I'm incredibly nervous haha?)! the first part is a bit longer than expected because I wanted to divide it differently but thought it didn't work as well.... ahh. anyway. well. if you can please let me know what you thought ♡ lots of love!

The Jack of Trades is packed tonight, exactly the way you like it. It smells like smoke and booze, colored by neon lights and light projectors. The floor is sticky under the soles of your combat boots, and you have to zig zag through the crowd to make it to the bar. 

Tonight is one for the books.

The Trades is hosting the concert of a band who’s visiting your city on their tour. It’s a big deal. The band in question, Side Effects, got featured on Spotify and are really popular on social media. You don’t know them very well - you’ve only heard snippets of one of their songs - but judging from the amount of people squeezed in the Trades tonight, you’re representing a minority. 

Leaning against the bar, you catch Yuna’s gaze and raise two fingers. She gives you a nod, her long hair falling in elegant waves on her shoulders. You always order the same thing, anyway, so she doesn’t have to ask. A minute later she hands you two bottles of your favorite beer, which will go straight to your tab, and you give her a thumbs up of encouragement in return. 

You can’t remember the last time you’ve seen the place so packed. You don’t think you ever have. It’s usually busy on Fridays, but never like this. You feel a rush of pride because the Trades is your favorite place on this godforsaken planet and you know how hard Changbin worked to get it back on its feet after the last owner deserted. 

Speaking about your best friend, he’s where you usually find him, near the mixing console where Jeongin is sitting, focused, his headphones placed on his bleached hair. Changbin is frowning at his phone, clearly busy with final preparations. It’s an important night for him. He lets out a relieved sigh when you hand him his beer. 

“Finally,” he lets out, immediately taking a long sip. 

You raise an eyebrow at him, smirking. “You’re welcome, Bin.” 

He drinks for a few more seconds before answering you - his beer is already half empty. 

“Can you see this?” he laughs in disbelief. “The place is fucking packed.” 

“You did it, Bin,” you say, lifting your bottle to clink it against his. “You sold out the Trades.” 

He grins and cheers to your words before emptying the rest of his beer. When he’s done, he releases a content sigh and you take the empty bottle from his hands. 

“I feel better now. I was getting a little stressed,” he chuckles.

“Is everything ready?” 

He nods. “Yup. We should be able to start on time,” he says, checking his phone again. “Oh, fuck, no, why is Hyun texting me…”  You let your gaze wander around the room as Changbin starts to type frenetically on the phone. It’s hard to believe that only two years ago, this place was nothing. Changbin bought the place as it was falling to ruins. You still remember the first time he showed it to you, making a big show out of it. He put a blindfold around your eyes and everything - and when you saw the dusty floor, the bare walls and the half collapsed stage, you thought your best friend had gone crazy.

But Changbin had a vision. He wanted to create a place where there would always be live music, where people could come to dance to a band they liked just as much as grab a beer and listen to whoever was playing. You could see it in his eyes as he explained it to you. 

It took months just to undo the damage made by the past owners - the plumbing needed to be replaced, there was mold in the walls of the bathroom, and things you preferred to forget in the dressing rooms. Luckily, Changbin was one stubborn guy, and he pushed through at the times you would have easily given up. You did your best to be there for him. 

The months after that had been easier - choosing the color of the paint, the best material for the floor of the stage, the placement of the bar and tables. Changbin already had a name in mind, and you worked for weeks on a design for its logo. When Changbin gave his approval, he ordered a neon light in the shape of your logo, which now hung on the brick wall behind the stage. 

Since its opening, the Trades has seen its fair share of rising artists, of questionable singers and chaotic musicians. A few concerts sold well, and the place became a success. Now there are so many proposals Changbin actually has to choose who will play on the nights the Trades is open. 

Tonight, the place is sold out for a band that you’ve actually heard on the radio. Hyunjin, who works backstage, has a friend who has a friend - Side Effect’s guitarist. They were looking for a venue and the Trades ended up being mentioned in a conversation. When Hyunjin told Changbin, you were sure he was going to go into cardiac arrest. It cost him a small fortune to pay the band and promote the concert, but seeing tonight’s crowd, it was definitely worth the investment.

“He said three, Hyun - not, not two, three - I SAID THREE - HYUN?!” 

You turn to Changbin, eyebrow raised, and he sighs deeply, holding the bridge of his nose. His outburst has also gotten the attention of Jeongin, who has turned his chair towards him and pulled down his headphones. 

“We really need to get a better network for his place,” Changbin mutters. He nods at Jeongin. “Everything ready?” 

Jeongin nods. He doesn’t talk a lot but has an impressive work ethic. He’s also the best - the best - poker player you’ve met.  

“Y/N,” Changbin pleads, “can you please find Hyun and tell him three changes, not two. I need to stay here.” 

You nod and head outside the booth. Although you’re always here, you don’t officially work for the Trades - but you don’t mind helping. The place is your baby a little bit, too. You’ve been here since the start, helped with the renovations, and you’ve barely missed a concert. 

Holding on to your beer, you slip through the crowd towards the door leading backstage, Wooyoung letting you in with a sharp nod. You know the place so well you have no difficulty finding your way in the dark. You find Hyunjin standing behind the black curtains around the stage, hiding him from sight. He’s dressed all in black as usual, and blends with the shadows so well sometimes the only thing giving him away is the piercing on his eyebrow. 

“Did he say two or three?” he asks you. 

“Three,” you confirm. 

“Three,” Hyunjin repeats under his breath, turning to finish preparing his things. “Why not two like everyone else? Why does it have to be three?”

You smile to yourself at his muttering, and hand him your beer. 

“Take a sip, yeah?” 

“Oh, yeah, thanks.” 

He drinks as you peak around the curtain to see the stage. You love seeing it from this angle when it’s all ready to go, its floor covered in cords and various equipment. Side Effects has four members, each with their own microphone, and the drum kit is huge.  

You turn back towards Hyunjin who has a finger against his earpiece and hands you back the beer. You understand the signal - the show is about to start. The Trades goes dark and you hear the crowd scream in excitment. You turn on your heels to leave, as you don’t want to be in the way, but as you’re about to head back, you’re blocked by a few people passing in front of you. 

You can barely see them in the darkness, only a few lights giving a hint of their faces, but you can easily guess from their outfits and general energy that they’re the band. 

The first has short, ruffled dark hair and wears a tank top that barely covers his wide shoulders. He does not see you, clearly in his own mindspace. The second is slightly shorter, with shoulder-length black hair that is half tied behind his head. His eyes are wide and shine in the darkness. He notices you staring and nods at you quickly, munching nervously on his lower lip. 

The third barely glances at you. He wears a leather jacket and his hair covers his eyes. The last is smiling, visibly excited, and gives you a wink as he walks by - but he does it so quickly you can’t get a good look at him.

Each of them gives a different energy, none of which feels similar to what you would expect in a popular rock band, and just for that, you are intrigued. The crowd is going wild, a few people screaming at the top of their lungs, pushing towards the stage. The overall atmosphere is electric, tense like the few seconds before a raging thunderstorm.

You decide to stay for a song, making yourself small backstage. The first notes of an electric guitar rips through the Trades, soon followed by a rhythmic beat on the drums. When the voices join the melody, you find yourself moving, tapping your feet on the floor. The song is catchy, reminding you of the music you listened to when you were a teenager - in a good way - and their voices blend in perfect harmony. 

Tank top guy, who you understand is the main singer and guitarist, stands at the center of the stage, belting a high note in the microphone. To his right, the other guitarist smiles widely at the crowd, no longer looking nervous - and to the left, perfectly sporting the bad boy look with his leather jacket, the bassist does not even smirk. 

But really, it’s him you can’t look away from. Sitting at the drums, on the edge of his stool, slamming his sticks like a man possessed. He’s fast and aggressive, his face quickly dripping in sweat, his tongue slightly sticking out from between his teeth. In your entire life, you’ve never seen anyone play the drums like that. He’s probably barely visible behind the other members and the array of drums and cymbals in front of him, and yet he shines so bright you can’t take your eyes off him. 

You stand there as if struck by lightning for the rest of the song, and then for about half of the second. 

Who is that guy?

You see the appeal of Side Effects. Four handsome guys with an insane amount of charisma bombarding really good music like they were born for it - of course they would be popular. Around you, the audience is dancing and singing, clearly having fun. You feel proud for the Trades, and a little embarrassed that you didn’t give this band much attention before. They are good. 

You clap when the second song ends, listening attentively as they introduce themselves. The singer and leader is Chris. The other guitarist is Felix. At the bass is Minho, and behind the drums sits Jisung. 

You can’t help it - you stare at him. Jisung. He’s fidgeting like a child as Chris interacts with the crowd, happiness overflowing his eyes. He plays with his drumsticks like they’re the extensions of his fingers, which you don’t doubt is true. As Felix says something about an upcoming EP, Jisung leans down to drink some water, and as he looks up, your eyes meet.

He doesn’t react, and for a second you think he can’t actually see you in the dark - but then, he smiles. 

A heart-wrenching, life-altering smile. 

You can almost feel your legs wobble, but really, you are too shocked to move. You just stare back like an idiot until he looks away. 

How can a guy be so goddamn magnetic? 

The next song starts and you try to catch your breath. It’s hard to do so as he plays right next to you, the muscles of his arms tensed, his entire body jolting as he pounces on the drums. He’s still smiling, but he’s focused. You breathe out slowly. 

When you think you can stare at him in peace, he turns his head for a second and winks at you. 

It’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen.

You take a step backwards, clearing your throat, and look around nervously. That’s when you see Hyunjin, who is smirking at you. You give him a glare and he playfully winks at you. 

You make sure to give his arm a good slap before you head back towards the booth to go back with Changbin, your legs a little shaky. 

You’ll watch the concert from a distance.

People often talk about the calm before the storm, but you prefer the one that comes afterwards. The latent electricity, the echoes of screams. You stand in the middle of the Trades, your ears ringing in the eerie silence. The entire audience has left, the stage is empty. 

You stand among the staff, your shot glass lifted as Changbin ends his speech. He has a proud grin illuminating his face, his eyes shining like stars - you cheer with the others to the night’s success, clink your glass against Hyunjin’s and drink. People disperse to finish cleaning up or to get home, but you linger next to Changbin. You throw your arm around his waist as he finishes talking with Wooyoung, and once the bouncer tells you both goodnight, you pull Changbin into a hug. 

“Congratulations, Mr. Seo,” you tell him. “I’m proud of you.” 

He hugs you back, chuckling, his breath making your hair dance. In the way his body leans against yours, you can feel how both happy and exhausted he is. 

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” he breathes. 

You shake your head, leaning back, gently tapping his cheek with your palm. 

“Of course you couldn’t.” 

He pulls his tongue at you as someone calls his name. You both turn towards the voice. A young guy with dark hair is smiling at Changbin, walking towards you. Wearing a pair of jeans, a white button-up and a relaxed tie, he looks both casual and fancy. Behind him are four people you immediately recognize.

Side Effects. 

You try not to stare, stepping away from Changbin.

The main singer, Chris, looks completely spaced out although he’s smiling politely. Felix looks like he’s still on his adrenaline high, bouncing slightly, looking around in curiosity. The bassist, Minho, remains impassive, but he perhaps looks a little bored. The drummer, Jisung - will you ever be able to forget that name? - is on his phone and does not see either of you. 

“Mr. Kim,” Changbin says, extending his hand. “I thought you would’ve left by now.” 

“Not without saying thanks,” he replies, shaking Changbin’s hand. You conclude he’s the band’s manager. “Call me Seungmin, yeah?” 

He looks at the main singer and nudges him with his elbow. 

“Right,” Chris smiles. “Thanks for having us. We had a good time.” 

“Yeah, it’s a really cool place you got,” Felix, agrees. 

They all give smiles and thanks, shaking Changbin’s hand. Your best friend’s grin cannot leave his face. You stand a little behind him, observing the exchange. It’s hard not to gawk. They’re still wearing their stage outfits, and although they look different without the spotlights, you can still feel their energy. 

“We’re having a little after-party,” Seungmin explains. “Wanted to extend an invitation.” He glances at you. “You and your staff, of course. Anyone who wants to join.” 

“Ooh,” Changbin chuckles. “Hell, why not.” 

Seungmin nods. “I’ll text the address then. See you in a bit.” 

As they walk away, you exchange a long look with Changbin. You wait until they’re out of sight to gasp loudly, holding on to each other like you’re going to fall on your knees. 

“Did they just -” Changbin exclaims. “Did we just get invited to an afterparty?”

“I think we did,” you whisper frenetically. “I think we fucking did.”

“Holy shit!” 

This is the first time anything like that has ever happened - usually, if there are after parties, they take place inside the Trades, and it’s with bands or musicians that aren’t very well known. Those who are, even just a little, often leave as soon as their performance is over.

“You know what that means, right,” Changbin giggles. “Not only did they stick around, but they took the time to thank us, and then invite us? What the fuck!” 

You laugh hysterically, throwing your arms around Changbin’s neck. You take the time to scream and dance for a minute or two, but then there’s stuff to do. You help your friend settle a few things, leaving the rest in Yuna’s safe hands, who’s not in the mood to party and has worked at the Trades since its opening. 

There’s five of you going to the party, so you split two taxis and get to the address Seungmin texted Changbin. It’s already really late when you get there, but you don’t care. This sort of thing never happens and you are going to enjoy it. Besides, if it allows you to steal a few more looks at that hot drummer, you won’t complain. 

The place, which you guess is the house the band rented for their time in town, is huge and already filled with people. Nobody asks who you are, and you just join the party like you were there from the start. Changbin is able to find Seungmin, who guides you to the kitchen where there’s a scandalous amount of beer available. You grab a bottle and cheer with your friend. 

It’s going to be a good night.

You’re going to lose the game, that much you know - but you’re not going down without a fight. If only your eyes weren’t burning from the exhaustion and the booze, you might’ve stood a chance. But then again, your opponent is good. 

Minho has brushed his hair away from his face. His eyes drill into yours, and while they are beautiful, they are, right now, your worst enemies. 

You squint as the people around you hold their breath - and after a few more seconds, you can’t take it. 

You blink. 

The small audience lets out an audible sigh. Minho gives you a smirk. 

“Well played.” 

You wave your hand, rubbing your teary eyes. You’re not proud, but you can admit defeat, so you nod at him and he pats your shoulder. You'll get him another time. Or not.

It’s incredibly late and horribly early. You’ve been drinking - not too much, but a fair amount. The party is slowly calming down. There’s still music playing, but it’s faint. People are no longer dancing and drinking but rather lounging and chatting. A few are laying on the floor or on the couches, asleep. Someone is snoring nearby. A lot of people have left. Most, in fact. But not you. 

You’re still here and you’ve just had a staring contest with Lee Minho - which you’ve lost. You shake your head, letting it fall against Changbin's shoulder. He is half asleep, barely able to keep his eyes open, his head secured against a fluffy cushion. In a minute or two you’ll lose him, but that’s fine - you plan on just curling up next to him and sleeping too. 

Except, as you’re about to do exactly that, you spot Han Jisung. 

You haven’t seen him much during the night. Not long after you arrived, you saw him flirt with a girl and he disappeared afterwards - you can guess the rest. Not very surprising coming from a member of a rock band. Of course he would have groupies. He was handsome, talented, charismatic. A flirt, too, apparently. Not like you cared, and certainly not like you expected him to remember the wink he gave you - if it had even been intentional. At this point, you’re convinced he didn’t even see you, that you were just a faceless shadow observing him from backstage.

So much for the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen. 

But he’s there now, walking towards the kitchen, wearing distressed jeans and a white t-shirt. His hair is all over the place, his steps a little uneven. You stare at him as he crosses the room - he’ll never see you, anyway. 

Changbin's chest is rising and falling regularly now, and you glance at him to confirm he’s fallen asleep. You smile tenderly, pat his cheek, and decide to head to the bathroom before you also get some rest. You head to the hallway, stepping over a few bodies, smiling at Jeongin who’s still playing DJ although the music is at such a low volume you can barely hear it. You ruffle his hair as you pass him. 

You step out of the bathroom, thinking to yourself you should get a glass of water, and look up. A few steps away, leaning against the wall, is Han Jisung. 

He looks up at you and smiles, his hands in his pockets, his eyeliner a little smudged.  

“There you are.” 

You’re too surprised to say anything at first, and he chuckles. 

“What, you think I forgot about you?” 

You blink, trying to gather your thoughts. “Excuse me?” 

He smiles, tilting his head a little. “It’s you. You were backstage earlier.” 

“How do you know that? It was dark.” 

“Not that dark.” 

You chuckle, maybe a little nervously. You’re a bit too drunk and tired for this conversation. He just looks at you in response, and you know it deep inside your heart. This guy is dangerous. Dangerously attractive, no doubt. But also just dangerous - the kind to consume your heart in a single bite and not leave a crumb. Exactly what you should avoid.

You cross your arms, looking back at him. “If you knew I was here, why didn’t you come earlier?” 

He shrugs. “I thought you’d look for me.” 

“There were like a hundred people here,” you sigh. “And when I saw you, you looked a little busy.” 

He laughs, shaking his head. His smile - fuck, that smile. Wide and bright and heart-shaped. Fuck. 

“Oh, that,” he says. “Yeah. She was all over me, what kind of gentleman would I be to refuse?” 

You snort. “For some reason I can’t buy into the whole gentleman thing.”

“I’m hurt.”

“Do I need to remind you you’re a rockstar?” 

“Hm. I would have just said musician or “some guy in a band”, but I’ll take rockstar.” 

You stare at each other, and you can’t explain it, but you both burst out laughing. Surely, it’s the booze. It has nothing to do with the electricity between you, like you’ve known each other for years, like this is far from being your first ever conversation. What the hell is this? 

Is this what people mean when they talk about instant connection? All you’ve known is friendship and trust built by experience and bonding. Not that it’s a bad thing - on the opposite - but this is new for you. 

You cover your face with your hands, shaking your head, and Jisung approaches you slowly, his eyes filled with sparks. 

“I love your laugh.”

“Oh, come on,” you sigh, rolling your eyes. 

You turn to lean against the wall, placing your hands behind your back, and he follows your move, barricading you between the wall and him. He smirks. 

“You don’t believe me?” 

“It’s not that, rockstar,” you smile at him. “I just know guys like you. Flirts. Fuck boys.” 

“Aoutch.” 

“Like you don’t know it.” 

He doesn’t refute it, his eyes lingering on your face, your nose, your lips, your body. Most of all, your lips. You’re tired and drunk and he smells good - it would be easy to reach out, but you won’t let yourself do it. You want to see what he will do.

And just like that, like he’s reading your mind, he leans in. Your breath hitches but you put a finger against his chest. 

“Hm. Haven’t you had enough for one night?” you tell him mischievously. 

He groans, and he’s so close to you his breath caresses your lips. 

“It’s you I wanted from the start.” 

It’s a terribly attractive thing to say, and you try really hard to ignore the fact that you’re turned on. You attempt to focus on little things to take your mind off his smell and his warmth - the fact that your mouth is dry, that a strand of your hair is tickling your ear, that your feet feel heavy in your boots after an entire day in them. 

“You’re leaving tomorrow,” you whisper. 

“All the more reason,” he grins. 

He reaches to put said strand of hair behind your ear, removing your itch, and it makes you almost dizzy - so much that you barely see him as he leans towards you again. Your finger, still pointed at his chest, pathetically bends, and your hand ends up sprawled against his shirt. His breath smells like apple flavored liquor. He kisses you. 

You know you’re just some random girl for him, one he’ll probably never know the name of, one of many he’ll have made out with on his tour. You know you’re just that, and you should have enough self-respect to push him away and not become yet another groupie on his fuck shelf, but he kisses so well you forget all of that. 

Or, well.

You know it, but you choose to forget it. 

Han Jisung’s lips taste like chaos. He kisses the exact opposite way he plays the drums, languidly, longingly, almost carefully - he is patient and delicate, yet it is clear he knows what he wants. You wrap your arms around him, and he pushes you against the wall, kissing you deeper. 

His hands are in your hair and he slides his tongue against yours, and you moan at the feeling of it, and in this instant you would let him do whatever he likes to you. 

You said it. 

Dangerous.

You are vaguely aware someone approaches you and stops next to you, but Jisung is still kissing you like it’ll never happen again - and it never will - so you don’t really pay attention to it. It is only when Jisung lips leave yours that you touch back with reality, realizing the voice has been calling his name repeatedly. 

“What is it, man?” Jisung asks, his voice low and annoyed. 

You’re still hidden in his arms, feeling drunker than you’ve ever been. You can barely open your eyes. 

“Sorry,” the voice says. It’s Chris. “But we need to go, like, now. Felix isn’t feeling good.” 

You glance at Jisung to see his face has changed. He looks tense, almost sad. It’s a surprising sight and it stirs something inside of you. 

Jisung gives Chris a nod. “I’ll be there in a second.” 

Chris leaves, and Jisung turns back to you. 

“Sorry, baby. Gotta go.” 

He gently lifts your chin with his fingers and gives you a last gentle kiss. Your legs can barely keep you up. 

Just like that, he walks away and disappears. You know it’s the last you’ll see of him tonight - and probably ever. You’re not sure how you feel about that, but there’s nothing you can do.

You trace your lips with your own tongue. 

Apples.  

You drag your feet back to Changbin, who is still asleep, and you sit beside him. Feeling disoriented, like your whole life has been taken apart and built back sideways, you wrap yourself around him, close your eyes, and let sleep steal you away.

The barista slides the two full cardboard trays of coffee on the counter and you thank him with a smile. It’s heavy and impractical, but luckily you only have to go next door. 

As much as you love the Trades during the night, when it’s packed and loud and stifling, you adore it during the day. If the weather is nice, like today, the doors remain open to let the fresh air in, and there’s a spot at the booths, where you usually sit, that catches the light just right. You head there first, leaving your bags and your own coffee, and then you make a round around the place to give the other cups to the people you meet. 

Jeongin is making repairs on his sound console and he accepts the coffee with a nod. Andy, the janitor, takes the next one, and soon you’re left with just one. You head upstairs to Changbin's office, and seeing that the door is closed, you knock. It’s the code everyone knows - an open door means you can go in. A closed one means knocking.

You wait for a few seconds, and when the door opens, Changbin only lets his head through - you see there’s someone in there with him. Soft brown hair and a black coat. Could be anyone. You just hand him his coffee, and he thanks you with a smile. You’re curious to know who he’s meeting, but you’ll just ask later. 

That’s the beauty of your friendship with Changbin. There’s absolutely nothing complicated about it. Since day one, you have been completely open with each other about everything, so ambiguity has never been an issue. Nothing ever lingers - you just talk about it. Good things, bad things, uncertain things. 

It’s an affectionate friendship, but it’s also a brutal one. You both have strong personalities, and everyone expects you to clash, and you do. But you do it in a way that is so open and true it never results in actual conflict. 

Changbin keeps you steady, Changbin knows you, and Changbin learns with you. To be human, to do better - but also to accept you’ll always have your flaws. 

Whistling a Side Effects song - it’s been stuck in your head - you head back to your usual booth and sit down. You take off your jacket, open your laptop and plug in your headphones. 

It’s difficult for you to find places where you manage to be productive when working. Your own apartment is often too warm; cafés are a nightmare; but the Trades, however, is perfect. There’s just an energy that gets your creative juices going, and you’ve been enjoying it as much as you can. 

You take a long sip of coffee and get to work. 

About twenty minutes later, you see Changbin crossing the room towards the main entrance with someone - the person he was in a meeting with, obviously. You recognize Seungmin, Side Effects’ manager. They seem to be on friendly terms, so you’re wondering why they met. You can’t resist the temptation to take off your headphones to try and listen, but they’re too far away. 

It’s been two days since the party and you can’t think about much else, although you keep telling yourself it’s pathetic. Still, you’re intrigued. You thought the band would’ve left town by now. Clearly, they haven’t.  

Changbin appears a minute later, sitting down on the booth in front of you with a smirk you can only describe as ecstatic. You raise an eyebrow. 

“Tell me you still have the file for your poster,” he tells you. 

“Always,” you frown. “Why?”

He scrunches his nose and leans towards you. 

“Because you’ll have to add something to it. Encore.” 

“Wha - WHAT? WHEN?!” 

“In two days.”

“TWO DAYS?” 

Changbin explains that the band’s next scheduled performances have been canceled due to a flood in the venue. Since their tour would only resume a few days later, they had some free time ahead and decided to stay in town. 

They offered to perform another time at the Trades because they loved the place, and Changbin certainly wasn’t going to refuse. A last-minute show on a Wednesday would be a challenge to organize, but it could be done. It would be done.

Giving Changbin a tight hug with a squeal of excitement, you immediately get to work on the design of the poster announcing the new date. The rush of adrenaline is inducing a rush of inspiration, and you have it wrapped up in a few hours. 

Once you’ve sent the file to the printer, you lean back against the booth and realize you’re hungry. You remember you still have leftovers in your fridge, so you decide to head home. You throw your bag around your shoulder but leave your headphones around your neck for when you’re outside. It’s quiet in the Trades, but you glance around the room to see if anyone is there so you can say goodbye. 

There’s only one person there, sitting on the edge of the stage, swinging his legs and looking around. For a second you think your eyes must be deceiving you, but it’s him. Han Jisung. 

He’s wearing grey jeans covered in patches of different patterns. His oversized red and black striped sweater is torn here and there, his dark hair in disarray. To complete his look, he wears a thin leather choker around his neck and a variety of bracelets on his wrists, and his nails are painted pitch black. 

Whatever he might say, he does look like a rockstar. 

You don’t know if you know him well enough to just approach him like that, but you figure that his tongue being in your mouth less than forty hours ago must count for something, so you take a few tentative steps towards the stage.

“What are you doing here?” you ask. 

He turns his head in mild curiosity, and once he sees you, grins widely. 

“I was hoping to find you here,” he says.

You roll your eyes. “Sure you were.”

“Sorry. It was too easy,” Jisung chuckles. 

“Seriously, why are you here?” 

He shrugs, the heels of his leather boots hitting the stage as he keeps swaying his legs. 

“I was really bored, so I took a walk. Ended up here, and the doors were wide open,” he explains. 

He looks up to the ceiling, a strand of hair brushing his forehead and falling in front of his right eye.

“I love to see venues when they’re empty. They’re this special feeling about them.”

“I know what you mean,” you agree with a smile. “It’s calm, but there’s still… this lingering tension.” 

“Yeah, exactly,” Jisung nods, looking back at you, eyeing you up and down. 

You feel a little casual compared to him in your baggy jeans and crewneck, your hair tied behind your hair with a claw clip, not wearing any makeup. You must look like a different person from the other night, but Jisung does not make you feel self-conscious. He looks at you exactly the same, with an intrigued gleam and a charming smile. 

“Where are you heading?” he asks. 

“Home,” you reply. “To eat.” 

“Ooh,” he chants, jumping down from the stage. “I’m in.” 

You stare at him in disbelief. 

“What?” 

“I kinda feel like a cheeseburger, though,” he states, walking towards you with purpose. He stops in front of you. “I’m paying.” 

You open your mouth to argue with him, but then you realize you don’t want to. Free food and pretty entertaining company? Why not. You nod.

“Lead the way,” he says with a grin.

In a couple of steps you’re standing outside under a timid sun. You point to the left, and Jisung follows you. 

“So what do you do here, exactly?” he asks, nodding towards the Trades. 

“Nothing,” you say. “I don’t work there, not really.” 

He frowns. “So why are you -”

“Changbin is my oldest friend. I helped him put the place together, and it’s kind of just… where I hang out. I designed the logo, though.” 

“You did that?” Jisung wonders, pointing to the sign. 

“Yeah.”

“Damn,” he whistles. “Looks really cool.” 

You thank him with a smile. Although you’re always hard on yourself when it comes to work, you are proud of what you did for the Trades. Not that you would have accepted anything less than perfection, anyway. 

“I did the posters for your show, too,” you add. 

Jisung gives you a smile that you would call impressed, and you feel a tang of pride in your heart. 

“So you’re a graphic designer?” 

“Yup.” 

“Cool. Tell me about it.” 

You have no idea why he’s interested, but you indulge him, telling him more about your work as you head towards the closest diner. It’s not a fancy place, far from it, but they do have the best cheeseburgers in the neighborhood, in your opinion. Jisung doesn’t look like the fancy type, anyway. As you watch and listen to him, you feel like he’s more the type of person that can adapt to every environment they’re in. 

Being constantly on the road as he is, you guess it must be a good quality to possess. Has he always been like that, though? Or is it something he picked up along the way to make it easier? 

Something about him just tickles your curiosity.

You sit down on a booth of worn black leather and the waitress brings you the menu. Jisung doesn’t look at it - just at you. 

“Were you born here?” 

“Yes.”

“You never left?” 

“Nope.” 

“Not even for traveling?” 

“Just once. Went to London.” 

“For what?” 

“Fun.” 

“Hm.” 

“Are we done with the interrogation?” 

To your surprise, Jisung lets out a loud laugh, sliding his hand through his hair. 

“Sorry. I meet so many people, and I rarely have the chance to get to know them. This is new.” 

“So I’m the first human being apart from your band and management you are able to have a conversation with in what, weeks?”

“Months.” 

“No pressure, then.” 

His smile stays on his face, large and luminous. You kind of like it. The waitress comes back to take your order, and you ask for two cheeseburgers, two sodas, and a large plate of fries to share. 

Jisung keeps asking you questions. You tell him about how you met Changbin - kindergarten - what was the best concert of your life - not his - and what your favorite font is - depends on the day.  

You get your food not long after, and as you pick up your burger, you decide to turn the table on him a little. Only fair, right? 

“So you’ve been bored and wandering around. What about the rest of the band?” you ask as he takes a bit of his burger. “What have they been doing?”

“Sleeping,” Jisung answers with his mouth full. He swallows. “Fuck, this is a good burger.”

“Must be grateful for the rest,” you say.

Jisung shakes his head. “Not all of them. Minho can’t stay still to save his life. He’s climbing up the walls already.”

You laugh in disbelief. “Really? He looks so… calm.” 

“He’s so weird,” Jisung laughs. 

You hear the tenderness in his voice, and you catch a glimpse of the bond that must be linking them. You felt it, even when they were on stage. They were more than a band - they were brothers. 

“And the other two?” you ask, simply out of curiosity. 

“Chris is fine. He doesn’t say it but he’s glad to be able to stay in. Work on music. Watch movies.” 

Jisung’s eyes darken. 

“Felix… sleeps. A lot.” 

You can hear something there, but you don’t want to ask. It’s none of your business, after all. Still, Jisung explains.

“He’s been through shit recently. So it’s good he can sleep.” 

You smile softly. “You’re really close, right? The four of you.”

“Yeah,” Jisung nods. “With Seungmin, too.” 

The softness on his face is new, but it does not last too long. Quickly, his smirk comes back, his eyes full of mischief. 

“You like video games?”

You expect Jisung to bring you back to the house where the party took place, but instead he walks you to an apartment building. He explains that the house would’ve been too expensive for a longer stay - it’s not like they were millionaires - so they found this place on Airbnb for cheap. It’s smaller, but more than big enough for the four of them. The rest of the crew shared another place a few blocks over. 

“The four of us lived in a shoebox for the longest time while we were in our garage phase,” Jisung says as he closes the door behind you. “So this is luxurious.” 

He doesn’t bother to give you a tour, but you don’t care. Leaving your bag in the hallway, you follow him to the kitchen. 

“That was a long-ass walk you took.”

Minho is glaring at Jisung, wearing two oven mitts and a neon pink bucket hat. The kitchen smells delicious, and you glance at the oven to try and see what is cooking in there. 

“Found a stray cat,” Jisung says, waving at you. 

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Cute of you to act like it wasn’t you that was lost.”

“I wasn’t lost. Just bored.” 

Minho stares at you - or, well, you think he is. His eyes are completely hidden under his hat and his hair. He raises an oven mitt towards you, and you have to guess he’s pointing.

“Staring contest girl.” 

“Not the worst nickname I’ve heard,” you pout.

“What was?” Jisung asks. 

“You’ll never know.” 

Minho chuckles. 

“Made some meat pies if you’re hungry.” 

“Thanks, bro.” 

You frown as he grabs a plate to get a slice. 

“But you just ate -”

You stop and shrug. One thing you’ll never judge or pretend to understand is how a person’s stomach works.

Minho and Jisung start whispering between themselves, and it seems like you hear Felix’s name, so you give them some space. In the meanwhile, you wander around the apartment, check out the hallway leading to the bedrooms, and then enter the living room. It’s a cozy space with a large sectional and a huge TV. You glance around for a good thirty seconds before you notice there’s someone sitting in a window nook. He hasn’t seen you, his eyes focused on his computer. Piled up on his head is a beanie, a pair of headphones and a hoodie. Chris. Jisung’s description was accurate. 

“Don’t mind him,” Jisung tells you as he reappears next to you. “When he’s like that he’s not conscious of the outside world. You could be walking around naked he wouldn’t notice.” 

“Sounds like a theory you’ve tested before.” 

“Oh, yeah.” 

You both plop down on the couch, laughing, and Jisung turns on the console. He hands you a controller and you start to play Crash Bandicoot, not really talking. You enjoy taking your mind off things, not really thinking about the situation you are in. Why are you here, after all? There’s no clear reason apart from the fact that you like Jisung. But you aren’t the type to question things too much - most of the time you prefer to just follow the path life takes you on. 

For now it’s taken you here. 

You spend the next few hours playing and eating snacks. At some point, Felix emerges from his room and sits on an armchair, dizzily staring at the screen. He looks exhausted, snuggled in a hoodie that is way too big for him, black hair curling around his ears. 

When your eyes get tired Minho takes your place, playing a few games with Jisung as you text with Changbin. He reminds you you’re supposed to go to a birthday party that night, and you let out an irritated sigh. 

“Fuck me,” you hiss through your teeth, resisting the urge to throw your phone across the room. 

“Sure,” Jisung grins at you. 

When you glare back, he chuckles. 

“What’s up?” 

“I have to go to this thing tonight. Birthday party.” 

“Hm. Sounds fun.” 

“Really not. The girl is a nightmare but she can’t, for the life of her, understand we’re not friends anymore, and that Bin will never be interested in her pathetic ass. All she does is show off how much money she has.” 

“Wow,” Minho laughs. “Now I kinda want to meet her.” 

“Good idea,” Jisung nods. “We’re not doing anything tonight, anyway, and I don’t know for you guys, but I don’t want to spend my entire night shut up in here. Let’s go.” 

You shake your head. 

“No way.” 

“Think about it, Y/N,” Minho says, placing his elbows on his thighs. “Bringing us as guests would shut her right up.

“And I need to get really drunk,” Felix states, all of a sudden. 

It’s the first words he’s spoken since he got out of his room, and while you look at him in surprise, the other two seem used to it. 

“Then let’s do it,” Jisung claims, clapping his hands.

“I have to go home and change, though. If I show up like that she’ll start a rumor I’m homeless or something,” you sigh. 

Jisung waves his hand. “That’s fine. I’ll come with you and help you choose a killer outfit. You guys meet us there, yeah?” 

“Don’t worry, I’ll get Chris when he emerges from the deep,” Minho nods.

Jisung takes your hand and lifts you off the couch. He guides you back to the hallway and slides on his boots. 

“You don’t have to come with me,” you say. “We can meet there.” 

“I wanna see your place,” Jisung simply responds.

Maybe you should be freaked out or annoyed at the game he’s playing. You know he’s just trying to get to know you, that you’re an adventure for him, but it also feels like he wants to assimilate as much as he possibly can before time runs out. It’s cute, but it’s also unnerving. What will he do with all this knowledge of you, once he leaves? Will he forget? Will you become a fond memory, or one that will fade away over time? 

You shouldn’t indulge him, because you’ll probably end up getting hurt. But at the same time, it’s stimulating for you, too. Letting someone in. Letting him see who you are, every part of you, knowing it’s temporary. Then he can walk away, carrying pieces of you. There’s a beauty to that you can’t yet grasp. 

When you arrive at your place, you let him walk around to look at what he wants, heading for your room. It’s not a big apartment, nor is it in perfect shape, but you made it yours. You and Changbin took the lease most particularly for the bathroom, which is more spacious than any you’ve seen in the city. In exchange, both of your bedrooms are kind of tiny, but it’s not like you have people over very often. If you do, it’s agreed you’ll find another place to stay for the night. 

You remove your clothes of the day, changing your underwear and slipping on a short leather skirt. You’re zipping it up when the door of your room opens on Jisung, who strolls in like he lives there. 

“What the fuck?” you let out, covering your chest - you’re only wearing a bra.

“You told me to make myself at home,” Jisung smirks, sitting down on your bed, sliding his hand on your comforter. 

“That’s not what I meant.” 

“Come on,” he says. “You’re almost dressed already. Love the skirt. Is this the shirt you’re planning on wearing?” 

He lifts the piece of clothing, a black tank top that laces on the front, and hands it to you. You snag it from his hand, slipping it on swiftly. He eyes you up and down. 

“What about accessories?” 

He stands up, walking to your dresser, and opens your jewelry box. You stare at him, absolutely mind blown at his behavior. 

“Oh. Love that. That’s hot,” he says, handing you a lace choker you haven’t worn in ages. 

“Having fun playing dress-up, are we?” you laugh. 

He winks at you, and proceeds to choose the rest of your outfit. Cherry earrings, silver rings, and loose hair. Once he’s done, he twirls you around, biting his lip.

“Perfect,” he says, slipping a hand on your waist to pull you close. “Thoroughly fuckable, if I might say so.” 

“Thanks?” you answer with a giggle. 

“Y/N,” he breathes, taking a step towards you. “C’m’here.” 

Before you can answer anything, he plunges his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling your smell, and places a kiss there that sends shivers all over your body. You close your eyes.

“Jisung…” 

“It’s not the outfit,” he says, shaking his head. “I’ve thought about fucking you all day.” 

You do your best not to let out a moan right there, instead biting your lip hard as he keeps kissing your neck. 

“Jisung,” you breathe. “I just got dressed.” 

“I don’t want you to undress.” 

You frown as he pushes you towards the bed. You lay down, eyes on him. Outside the blue is fading to black, enveloping the room in a heavy purple, and there’s something earnest and intimate about it. You’ve been on edge ever since that kiss he gave you - and you’ve so desperately wanted to know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t been interrupted. 

You have somewhere to be, but you don’t care. Jisung is at your apartment and visibly also wants to pick up things where you left them off. You are not going to waste the opportunity. 

Jisung’s hands spread your legs, his lips leaving a trail of wet kisses on your thighs. 

“Just want to get a taste,” he mutters. 

Your breath hitches as he pushes up your skirt, lips brushing your skin. He makes his way between your legs, finally setting his mouth on your underwear. At this point you are writhing around him, desperate for a direct touch. 

“Getting wet for me so fast,” he breathes. “How can I resist you?” 

“No one talked of resisting,” you answer in a sigh. 

He chuckles. “Fair point. Can I?” 

You nod, and he draws your underwear aside, leaving you exposed to his eyes. You spread some more for him, pulling up your skirt, and he does not waste another second. His lips embrace your wetness, his tongue swirling around your clit. You let out a shaky sigh, your fingers reaching for his hair. Your thoughts wander, far away from your reach, as you just enjoy Jisung’s caresses. 

He hums against you as you roll your hips against his mouth. It’s working wonders for you, your pleasure building quickly. 

“That’s good, baby,” he breathes. “Make yourself come in my mouth.” 

You’re hot, your body tense, Jisung making out with your cunt. His tongue makes a quick work of it, and you come not long after. You shiver delightfully, and it takes you a while to come down. As you do, Jisung gently replaces your underwear where it was, contemplating the drenched fabric with a satisfied smile. 

“Now you can walk around all evening in your soaked underwear, courtesy of me, and I’ll have your taste on my tongue,” he says in a low voice, his smirk all the right kinds of dirty. 

You’re still riding the high of your orgasm, so you don’t really find the right words. You just smile at him.

“You’re fucking insane.” 

“Just trying to enjoy the time I have.”

The taxi drops you off in front of your friend’s house. Jisung hands him a few bills and comes to stand next to you, admiring the place. 

It’s huge, outrageously so, the typical rich person’s, and you absolutely hate it. From the judgemental look on Jisung’s face, so does he. 

You put a hand on his shoulder. “You asked for it.”

Felix, Chris and Minho are already inside, according to Jisung’s phone, and it takes you a while to find them - the house is packed and loud. 

“Have you seen Changbin?” you ask them, but they shake their heads. 

You check your phone - no news from your friend. He’s probably running late or has a last minute hold up. You decide to stick around anyway. You’re dressed up, you’re here, and you have company. 

You get drinks and sit between Jisung and Chris. You talk a lot to the latter, who, now that he doesn’t have his head in his computer, proves to be really fun company. You discuss productivity and creative slumps, interrupted here and there by the occasional fan asking for an autograph or a picture. Jisung is busy playing cards with Minho, his hand on your thigh. Felix is flirting with a few people, drinking fast, his smile widening with every second. 

When your friend comes into your field of vision, and eyes you with annoyed envy, you are so happy you could sing. You wish her a happy birthday, the band too, and for once she has absolutely nothing to say. 

“Changbin didn’t come?” she asks as a last resort. 

“Sorry, he couldn’t make it,” you reply with a fake pout, trying to hold back your laughter. 

When she leaves, dumbfounded and annoyed, you laugh hysterically with Jisung for so long you have tears streaming down your cheeks and your sides hurt. 

As the night advances, Jisung’s hand rides higher and higher on your thigh. His eyes get glassy with the alcohol, as do yours - in fact, everyone gets pretty wasted. Chris and Minho share a joint, keeping an eye on Felix. Despite the chaotic ambiance around you, you five stay pretty calm, chilling on the couch you claimed, talking or playing silly games. 

A few other people join you for a classic game of never have I ever - except you’re all too drunk already to play with drinks, so you agree on changing the rules. If you have, you kiss the person to your right. 

“Never have I ever been naked in public,” Felix proposes. 

His eyes are lit up like fireworks, and he stares at Chris, who shakes his head.

“Oh my gosh…” 

“You HAVE to, Chris!” Felix cackles. “We all saw you!” 

“What’s the story?” you ask, laughing. 

“Nothing interesting. You don’t want to know,” Chris sighs. 

“I do!” you retort. 

“A simple story, really,” Minho explains, twirling a joint between his fingers. “He went to take a shower at the camping site we were staying at, and I stole his clothes.” 

You all burst out laughing, and Felix claps his hands. 

“C’mon, now. Kisses. On the mouth.” 

Felix receives a kiss from the girl next to him, which surprises him - and Chris turns to you. 

“It’s the game, right?" he laughs. "Sorry, Ji.” 

“No harm, man.” 

“You’re okay with it, right?” Chris asks you.

You nod, amused. Chis leans in, a smirk on his face, and slides his fingers in your hair. His lips are plump, kissing you gently, and you feel yourself melt a little. You almost don’t want to stop, your hand falling against his chest. The booze makes your tongue act on its own, dancing with his, and Chris indulges. It takes a minute before you lean back, falling back on the couch. 

“Fuck, damn,” you laugh. Your cheeks are red. “You’re a good kisser.” 

“So are you,” Chris smiles. 

“That was hot,” Jisung lets out with a solemn nod. 

You hide your face in his neck, giggling like a teenager, and the game continues. At the next question, Minho kisses the guy next to him, and you appreciate the sight a little too much. Your senses are getting tangled - between the booze, the weed, Jisung’s warm fingers around your thigh, Chris’ tongue and the sight of so many people making out, you’re officially horny. 

It doesn’t help that you still feel your wet underwear against your cunt, reminding you of the joys of Jisung’s tongue. 

You bite your lip, waiting for the right moment. Finally, a girl asks never have I ever stolen a car, and nobody moves - except you. You fall against Jisung, pulling him into a needy kiss. The people around you start yelling and laughing. 

“What the fuck!” 

“STOP MAKING OUT, WE NEED THE STORY,” Felix screams.

“I don’t think we’ll get the story tonight, bro,” Chris tells him with a chuckle.

He’s right, because you’re lost in your kiss, Jisung’s hands all over you. You don’t even care that there’s dozens of people around. You devour his lips, get drunker on his taste. You want him, you need him - and he kisses you deep and passionately. One of his hands grip your ass and you moan softly. 

“I think we’ve lost them,” Minho says. 

“Hey,” Chris says in your ear. “Get a fucking room.” 

A giggle escapes your mouth and Jisung pulls away from you. His lips are already swollen, and the sight is so attractive you have no idea how your legs are able to hold your weight as he pulls you on your feet. 

“Have a good time,” Felix sings as you walk away. 

You wave at them, letting Jisung guide you through a house neither of you really know. You stumble through the crowd, stopping to kiss sometimes, and you can’t wait to be alone. It’s proving to be complicated, though, because every door you come across is either locked or already has people busy behind it. You scoff and snicker until you find a door that has a piece of paper taped on it. 

PRIVATE DO NOT ENTER

You exchange a knowing look with Jisung. No words needed. He turns the handle and you see stairs leading down. You close the door behind you, lock it, stumbling down the stairs to the basement. 

When you get there, you gasp. 

It’s a beautiful room, with thick, fancy carpets and the biggest TV you’ve ever seen. There’s a bar in the corner, and on a wall, a collection of guitars. You stare in awe at everything, Jisung standing behind you, kissing your neck.

“Holy shit,” you whisper. 

For a second you forget all about Jisung, running towards the guitar displayed on the far right. It’s the same, you realize. The exact same model. 

“That’s a rare one,” Jisung says, sliding next to you. “Worth a fortune.” 

“My mom had one,” you tell him with a smile. “She found it at a flea market. Guy had no idea what he had. She paid 11 dollars for it.” 

Jisung smiles even more widely. “It was meant to be.” 

“Yeah.” 

You smile fondly at the memory. It soothes you, envelops you. You forget where you are, for a second, although your entire body is drunk on Jisung. 

“You play?” he asks you, his eyes not leaving yours, his hand putting a strand of your hair behind your ear. 

“A little,” you admit.

“Then let’s hear it.” 

“No, Ji, you can’t touch -” 

You might not know him that well, but one thing you are learning about Jisung is that he does not care. So it’s without hesitation that he grabs the guitar from the display and hands it to you. You laugh, carefully taking it. 

You sit down on the floor, the guitar in your arms, and you gently brush the strings. Jisung sits in front of you, leaning against the back of a couch. 

Before you know it, you’re playing a melody you know like the back of your hand. With your eyes closed, and just the sound of music to guide you, it all feels like a dream. The basement, the party, even Jisung, it all fades - you’re alone with the guitar for a few seconds. 

When you open your eyes again, at the end of the song, Jisung is staring at you with wide eyes and a parted mouth. 

“A little?” he repeats.

You laugh. “Ok. More than a little.” 

“You didn’t tell me you’re a musical genius.” 

“I’m not.” 

He lifts an index. “I’ve heard a lot of people play the guitar. I’m not just saying this. I think I’m lowkey in love with you, now.” 

You smile at him, at his dark hair and his round eyes, at the line of eyeliner under them, at the choker around his neck, at the red and black sweater you were gripping desperately minutes ago. 

“Same to you,” you admit. 

He grins and crawls over to give you a kiss. The guitar falls beside you, immediately forgotten. Jisung hums against your lips. 

“I want to fuck you,” he tells you in a hoarse voice. 

“Yes please,” you answer, and he laughs. 

You remove his sweater and let your fingers wander around his chest, touching his skin. It feels warm. Still kissing you, he unlaces your top, cupping your breasts. He teases your sensitive nipples, drawing a soft cry from your lips. You arch your back, thrusting your hips against his. You can feel his hard cock under his jeans, and you can’t resist wrapping your hand around the bulge to stroke him. Jisung grunts in your mouth, and suddenly bites your lower lip.

You jump in your surprise, letting out a moan. 

“Keep moaning for me, baby,” he whispers, gliding his teeth across your lips. “You sound so hot.”

“Fuck, Ji. I’ve been dreaming about that cock.” 

You unbuckle his belt and take him out of his boxers. He’s hard, and you lift your hand to your mouth, slowly licking your palm. You keep your eyes on him while you do it, and he stares back at you, mouth parted, taking in the sight. Then, you start to stroke him, coating his length with your spit. 

“I’m going to fucking ruin you,” Jisung growls. 

He roughly takes your hand away, enclosing his fingers around your wrist, and pins it against the carpet. He lays you down as you bite your lip in amusement, glancing at his erection - and you can almost see him pulsating. He doesn’t let go of your arm, pushes up your skirt and pulls down your panties at the same time, and slides his fingers against your pussy. 

You shudder as he chuckles.

“You’re still so fucking wet, baby.”

“It was all the kissing,” you admit with a smile.

You kiss his jawline, his neck, his ear, as he keeps rubbing his fingers against your wetness. You’re clenching around nothing, your hips moving in search of pressure - but Jisung keeps his caresses light. 

“Chris got you good, didn’t he?” 

“He did,” you breathe, although you can barely find the words. 

“Got me, too, to see you make out,” he replies, keeping his voice low. “Maybe one day I can watch you fuck.” 

As he says the words, he inserts two fingers inside of you, and you let out a choked whimper. 

“Fuck, Ji, don’t say shit like that,” you cry out.

“Why not? Wouldn’t you want to?” 

“Right now, I just want you,” you say, and you mean it. 

He smiles against your lips as you kiss him. You sit up slightly, and he liberates you, taking his fingers out of you. He slides them into his mouth, cleaning them. 

“The taste was almost gone,” he explains, and you smile.

You give yourself a boost to turn him around so you can straddle him. You place yourself so your folds grind against his cock, swaying your hips slowly. He lets out a deep breath, and you throw your head back. Your hands sprawl on his chest as you keep moving, and you know you’re making a mess, smearing your wetness on his skin, but you don’t care. 

“Fuck, yes, baby,” he moans. 

You glance at him with a smile. 

“You like that?” 

“I do. Are you coming?” 

“I’m close.” 

“Then stop. I want you to come around my dick.” 

Not that you could refuse him. He takes out a condom from his back pocket - you don’t question why he would have that ready - and hands it to you. You get him ready, your fingers trembling slightly. 

“Going to pound that pussy so good,” Jisung whispers to you, placing your hair behind your ears, cupping your cheek. 

You rub his length against you to lubricate, and then slowly ease him in. A curse escapes your lips, and Jisung secures his hands on your hips. You accelerate gradually, and soon you are fucking him, your capacity to think escaping you. He helps you by bucking his hips, deepening the thrusts. 

One of his hands travels across your stomach, squeezes your breast.

“So pretty,” he moans. 

“You’re so fucking deep inside me,” you breathe out.

“C’m’here, baby,” he grunts, pulling you towards him, so you lean against his chest. 

He places your arm behind your back, pinning you in place, and your knees fall on either side of him. Then, he starts hammering into you. The way he holds you, you can barely move, and the sensation is so intense it instantly makes you see stars. 

“Holy shit, Ji,” you whimper. “I’m coming…” 

“Come, pretty thing,” he whispers in your ear. 

You come undone around him, shaking violently as he keeps you in place. Your moans echo through the basement, and maybe you’re being too loud, but you don’t care. You’re pretty sure no one can hear you above the deafening music from upstairs, anyway. Jisung continues to thrust into you, placing a few languid kisses on your neck until you’ve come down. Only then does he slow down.

“How was that, baby?” he asks, still rolling his hips.

“So fucking good.” 

“I’m glad to hear it,” he smiles. “Stand up for me.” 

You nod and manage to push yourself on your wobbly legs. You lean against the couch, and a part of you just wants to lay down on it. But Jisung has another idea. He stands up as well, pulling you in his arms. 

“Sit here,” he says, and pats the back of the couch. 

He pushes the hair away from your face, kissing you deeply, his cock brushing your pussy. He’s still so hard - you know he’s not done with you. You settle on the top of the couch, spreading your legs. Jisung takes his pulsating cock and guides it inside of you again, keeping your legs apart. 

You’re already getting too used to having him there, because your body hums in approval, and your pleasure immediately starts building back up. It feels like he’s filling every inch of you, his breath heavy on your neck, thrusting into you in deep, languorous moves. 

“Fuck, you’re good at this,” you mutter. 

“It’s because you take me so well, baby,” he grins. “But I like your compliments.”

You bite your lip. “Praise kink?” 

“Y’know it.” 

You wrap your arms around his neck, kissing his earlobes, licking his neck. You start to suck at the skin there, intent on leaving a trace, and he growls. 

“You’re look so fucking sexy right now, Ji,” you breathe in his ear. “I love your cock. I love how you fuck me with it. You’re so beautiful and you made me come so hard.” 

You feel him twitch inside of you, and you can’t help but smile. You hum, planting a few kisses along his jawline. 

“Is there anything you can’t do, Ji?” you breathe, although he starts thrusting into you so hard you have a hard time aligning your words. “Such a good kisser, and you… You fuck so well… And the way you play…” 

He moans, slamming into you. The sound of your voice, of his breathing, of his skin slapping against yours becomes a blissful symphony.  

“When I saw you playing the drums… Fuck, I just fell in love with you,” you say. 

You don’t know how you’re still talking because he’s moving faster and faster, bringing you to the edge again. 

“Your fingers around the sticks… The way you hit the drums… So fast and brutal…” 

“Fuck, baby…” he whimpers.

“You’re magic, Ji,” you cry out. “Everything that you are is magic.” 

He moves his head to capture your lips again, and you moan in his mouth. Your kisses are feverish, disorderly.

“I’m coming again,” you moan.

“Don’t hold it back, baby, fuck, keep clenching like that,” he says. 

You’re seconds away from coming when he does, and the feeling of his cock bursting into you is almost too much to handle. Your orgasm reverberates in your entire body, his too - and after a few seconds of delightful chaos you breathe out against each other, panting. 

When you’re able, you open your eyes. His remain closed, and you admire the sweat on his skin, the slightly smudged makeup. You must look as much of a mess as he is. 

You place a chaste kiss on his lower lip, and he opens his eyes to smile at you. 

“I don’t want to move,” he says. 

“Me neither,” you admit. 

“Let’s just stay like that for a few more seconds.” 

You nod, your head falling on his shoulder. After a minute, however, your legs start to waver, and you reluctantly move away from each other. Luckily there’s a bathroom in the basement, so you go together to clean up. He helps you lace your top back on and you insist on putting back his belt yourself. 

He strokes your hair. Kisses you on the temple. Keeps your hand in his as you walk back upstairs. 

You feel dizzy. You feel good. 

This is dangerous. 

Jisung will be leaving soon. 

He’ll forget you and you’ll have to do the same.

All in good time. 

Felix has fallen asleep on Chris’ shoulder, who is texting on his phone. Minho is playing a card game with the guy from earlier - when you approach them, he gives you a nod. 

“You two look fucked out.” 

“Let’s go home,” Jisung says, ruffling Minho’s hair. 

You watch as the two boys walk away, their arms thrown around each other’s shoulders. Although you’re exhausted your smile doesn’t leave you, and you help Chris wake Felix. The guitarist groans but still follows you, and you steal a bowl of chips on your way out so you can eat them in the taxi. 

You get to the band’s rental and everyone heads for their bedrooms - you leave the empty bowl on the kitchen counter, following Jisung to his bed. You both fall against the mattress, entangling your limbs together, and you sleep.

Thank you for reading! I really hope you liked it, please let me know if you did. See you soon for part two!

[omnomnomdomcaps]

Ghosts of Accidents Past - Remastered

Another spooky kinky story for the spooky kinky season. Enjoy!

Two miles to go. 

Groggily, you begin your journey home. The autumn air is heavy and thick, and your mind is just as foggy. Scattered recollections from the previous night flicker by - cans and bottles thrown about, music blaring, wild boasts and dares made drunkenly. You said yes to something - that you’re sure of - but the picture beyond that is blurry, and even trying to remember the night is giving you a headache. 

The first leg of your trip is dull, but peaceful. Off in the distance, dogs bark, and the morning brings its usual clamor. You trudge slowly along the sidewalk, hoping that the cool air will help clear your mind. 

And then, you feel a slight twinge in your bladder, and a voice comes to you. 

Uh oh. 

For a moment, you pause along the road. Where, you wonder, did that thought come from? Why, all of a sudden, is your heart beating faster?

Closing your eyes to concentrate, you find yourself facing an old lecture hall. In the crowd, you can make out a handful of old friends and  classmates, and your memory begins to piece itself together. 

That presentation meant so much to you. You had worked so hard on it, and you didn’t want to risk the embarrassment of being out of the room when your turn to speak was called. So you sat there, patiently, diligently, even when you could feel that need creeping up. 

By the time the professor finally did call your name, the pressure had turned to pain, and it was already too late. All you could do was try to hastily deliver the slides you had worked so long to assemble, hoping desperately that you could get through them in time. 

Only when it became clear you couldn’t, did you finally see the grievous error of your ways. By then, you had waited too long even to leave the room in time, and there were still five slides to go. With your face reddening, with your legs twisted over each other, you couldn’t help but look around the room at the raised eyebrows and covered whispers of your peers, the reality setting in that they already knew what they were about to see. 

Opening your eyes, you begin to walk faster. Glancing the street signs as you go, you estimate a mile and a half left. Your tired mind does its best to work through the calculus - how long before you reach home? Will you be able to unlock your door in time? To make it up the stairs to the bathroom? To remove your clothes before it’s too late?

Hurry. 

Your brisk pace turns to a sprint, and you nearly trip over yourself as you try to weave past waste bins and passersby. The urge emanating from your bladder is still small, but you can feel it growing. 

It’s happening again. 

The words bring you back to an office. You begin to piece together a middle-aged man, with gray hair and a suit, seated across from you, sorting through papers while a younger woman looks on. 

It’s an interview, and you really wanted the job. 

But you just had to repeat your mistakes, just had to put yourself in the same position, cross-legged and desperate, with no way out. 

You can still hear the hiss of that warm stream, forcing its way out onto the office chair. You can see your interviewer slowly lifting his head as his assistant gasps. 

And you escape, back to the present. 

The run is too much for your body, and you have to stop. Panting violently, you grasp your hands onto your shaking knees and try to think.

Something about last night comes back to you. The party. Something about a dare - some kind of ‘curse’ file your friend was talking about. Something about memories. And you said yes. 

So then, were those memories all fabricated? But they felt so real. So vivid, so stark...

The loud laughter of children strikes you. You can hear it transform, slowly, from a playful joy to something more focused, something cruel. 

It was your seventh birthday party, and they were laughing at you. 

“Pee pee pants!”

“Pants wetter!”

“Baby! Baby! Baby!”

You see your mother, towering over as she leans down to console you. There’s a look of pity in her eyes. Did she know then? Did she know that you would be this pathetic pants wetter your whole life?

You’re not going to make it.   

Your head is spinning, but you tell yourself you have to get up, have to keep going. You run again.

Again, the cackle of children rears itself into your mind, but it’s an older group this time. It’s not your classmates, and it’s not your friends. 

You remember now. You were a schoolteacher once. 

You probably should have known back then that it was a recipe for disaster. With no assistants to cover for you, you were never allowed to leave your class unattended, your only short breaks coming at the ends of fifty-minute periods. 

And yet, you walked right into it - you never learn, do you? You found yourself desperately needing to go when you were supposed to be the adult in the room, when all eyes had to be on you. And when that trickle inevitably came, well before the bell rang, they all watched you, in all your dress-to-impress business wear, wet your pants like a pathetic child. And they loved it. 

Just like that, you saw all the respect, and all the sense of authority, that you had with these teenagers vanish into nothing. They were high school seniors, after all, not much younger than you. Of course they would pounce like hungry wolves at the chance to show you weren’t better than them. Of course they took pictures. Of course they told their friends and their parents. And of course you could never, ever live it down.    

Your head is spinning. There’s still almost a mile to go. You start to look around, you start to wonder if there is anything else to do. Maybe you can duck into a local restaurant and use their bathroom. Maybe you can go into the woods, and do your business there.

But then, what’s to say that the urge won’t come right back up again? After all, the urge doesn’t seem so strong now, and it didn’t seem so strong then, until it was too late. After all of your embarrassments, how could you trust yourself at all?

You continue to scan desperately around, searching for some possible reprieve. Finally, finally, you happen upon a drug store. 

It’s the only way.

Violently, you go crashing in, swerving wildly to avoid the other shoppers, knocking over cases and displays as you go. At last, you make it to aisle 7 and find what you so direly need. 

By the time you sprint up to the cash register with your bag of diapers in hand, the entire store is staring at you. Some are whispering, some are gasping, some you can hear laughing. But it doesn’t matter. This is what you have to do. 

With trembling hands, you hand your card over and make your purchase before asking to use the store’s restroom. Then, you dart over with your new garments in hand, slamming the door behind you. 

You begin frantically to unzip your pants and lower your underwear, before tearing at the bag of Depends and pulling one out. Finally, you hastily unfold it and put it on, collapsing on the toilet in an exhausted heap when the task is complete. 

In the brief onset of clarity that follows, you begin to realize that, maybe, there was something off about those memories. You never were a schoolteacher, after all, and you never had to present anything in front of a lecture hall. Maybe, this had something to do with last night's dare, some twisted file designed to warp your mind and lead you precisely to this point. Maybe, you don’t actually need diapers after all.

But can you ever really be sure?   

[twistthesinews-writes]

The Needle and the Damage Done

Summary: Devil's Minion era. Daniel drinks Armand's blood for the first time. There's no going back now. [1063 words]

Disclaimer: Listen. Don't come at me. I haven't even read Queen of the Damned. I hadn't been planning on writing any fic for these two in the first place. Then I remembered Henning May's cover of The Needle and the Damage Done and something possessed me right in the middle of an online class and uh. This happened. (Whether or not you read this, definitely listen to that cover. Because like. Damn.)

I may have taken significant creative liberties with how it feels to drink vampire blood.

Still in pretty rough shape, I might try to neaten it up, continue it, and post it on AO3 eventually. For now, though, it's gonna live here. Enjoy some fucked up power dynamics and a junkie not-quite-realizing that he's bitten off more than he can chew.

The first time he drank of the blood, he knew he had crossed a line.

Up until then, it had been just another thing to try, just another probably-dumb idea. Dumber than his usual, maybe, sure, but at the end of the day just another step down his not-so-slow but mundanely steady path of self-destruction.

The instant the first drop slides down his throat, he feels the ground disappear beneath him and knows he’s reached that path’s end. What he thought was just another step turned out to be a plummet off the edge of the cliff he always knew, but never truly believed was there.

And then it’s too late.

He grabs Armand’s wrist, drags it to his mouth with more desperation and naked need than he’s ever felt drinking from a bottle, be it liquor or milk. He barely catches the flicker of cold amusement from the creature he does not yet realize he has just become wholly reliant on. For this, he cannot find another dealer. He can’t drop to his knees in the right club bathroom for another hit. Now, to a deeper degree than he even knew was possible, he is an owned thing.

For the moment, though, he isn’t thinking about this. He isn’t thinking about anything at all, everything beyond the instinct to drink, drink, drink stripped from him. He is too far gone to be ashamed of the mewling whimper he lets out when the source of the blood is ripped away from him. He turns his eyes up, wet, pleading, to those of his new master and finds a glinting smile.

“That’s enough for now, boy,” he says. Daniel blinks, slowly, an electric feeling starting to spark its way through his body. Neuron by neuron, his brain begins to come back to life.

“For now,” he repeats hoarsely. “We can do this again?” It’s a moot question. If the answer is no, Daniel will die. That doesn’t feel like melodrama, it feels like simple fact.

“If you’re good,” Armand says, buttoning the cuff of his shirtsleeve.

“Anything,” Daniel breathes. “Armand— I— anything.” Daniel tries to crawl toward Armand on the bed, but abruptly, his tingling arms give out from under him and he falls, landing face-first on the sheets in front of where Armand sits cross-legged. Before he can roll over so he can breathe, Armand’s hand lands in his hair, pressing his face harder into the mattress. Daniel doesn’t resist. Right now, breathing seems superfluous to Armand’s hand on him, Armand’s blood in him.

You’ll never leave me now, will you? he hears in his head. Stars swirling behind his eyes, he shakes his head as best he can. He tries to open his mouth to reply, but the pressure against his face is too great and he can’t draw breath to speak anyway. Instead he thinks, as hard as he can,

No. No. Never. I’ll never leave you, never, never, never— Things are getting hazy, now—maybe vampire blood doesn’t actually absolve a human of his need for oxygen—but even as he begins to lose feeling in his extremities, still all his thoughts are occupied by that one-worded mantra, repeated like a prayer. The stars flashing behind his closed eyelids are blinking out one by one when abruptly the hand against his head yanks him up by the hair. He heaves in a gasp of air, the room suddenly very bright, every desperate inhale carrying sharper, more intense scents than he’s ever experienced before.

“All right,” murmurs Armand, effortlessly flipping Daniel onto his back, stroking his hair as he pants. “All right. How do you feel?”

Daniel blinks up at Armand’s upside-down face. “I… I can hear a woman on the street hushing her baby. She’s speaking… Serbian, I think? Something Slavic. And the Nuts4Nuts guy—he’s just put a fresh batch of peanuts on to roast. I can smell them. Armand,” Daniel says urgently. “Armand, the window’s closed. The window’s closed and we’re on the seventh floor.”

Armand smiles indulgently down at him. “And so we are.”

Daniel closes his eyes and takes another breath. “Is this what it’s like for you all the time?”

All of a sudden, the electricity sparking through his veins meets oxygen and is set ablaze. He leaps off the bed, energy pulsing through him. “Is this how you feel all the time?,” he repeats excitedly. “God, no wonder food tastes like nothing to you—what could compare to this?” Daniel bounces on his feet a few times, then reaches out to yank on Armand’s wrist. “Come on, let’s go!”

Armand arches an eyebrow at him. Pulling on him is like pulling stone. “Go?”

“Yes, come on, let’s go out! Let’s go chase down some dumb guy or get in a bar fight or steal a painting or—or—or anything, let’s just go!” Daniel’s bouncing from foot to foot now, all but running in place. The energy thrumming through him is easily equal to any coke high he’s experienced, and usually he wouldn’t hesitate to strike out on his own at this point, burn that energy off however he saw fit. But somehow the only thing worse than staying still right now is the thought of being away from Armand. Armand, who looks from where Daniel is pulling ineffectively at his wrist to Daniel’s slightly manic grin with a deeply unimpressed expression.

“You’re forgetting your manners, I think,” he says softly. “Is this how you show me your gratitude?”

Daniel drops his hand as if burned. “No, I—I’m sorry—I—I only meant—”

Armand tsk’s softly. Daniel feels it like a knife in his chest.

“I know just what you meant, child. You think I can’t find sufficient outlet for the ancient energy in your veins here, in this apartment? In this very room?”

Golden eyes bore into him, and Daniel finds his sense of fear has been intensified along with everything else. He stops bouncing, trains his eyes on the ground, not daring to meet the deceptively soft gaze of the predator that owns him.

“Of—of course. I mean, what… what would you like to do?”

Silence. Daniel risks glancing up. The danger has dissolved from Armand’s face, replaced by a fond smile.

“Oh my darling boy.” A hand caresses Daniel’s cheek. “Why don’t we go out?”

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

Fun fact: I wrote the first draft of this by hand in my best cursive during online class. No clue why. I'd meant to take my lecture notes on that paper. In possibly-related news, I suspect I haven't gotten my Adderall dosage quite right yet.

If you've gotten this far, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed <3