#Felix dead on the floor....

[dreamtydraw]

Heeeeey ll fandom... how we feeling about anisa not receiving an uptade since a year and the last chapter being posted almost a year ago... Aha..

Here a silly meme because i try to cope

[laurenkmyers]

[beeholyshit]

errmmmm

[doitforbangchan]

Deity - H.H

Masterlist

Hyunjin x reader (afab)

Summary: You wanted to worship your boyfriend for his birthday, but it seems like he had other plans...

Requested by my dear friend @jehhskz who asked for birthday Jinnie :)

Warnings: Fem reader, Smut, unprotected p in v, established relationship, grinding, kissing, blindfolds, drinking (mentioned), lingerie, cursing, pet names, Hyunjin being a literal poet. Not proof read :)

WC:2.8k

“Is this really necessary? At this point it’s kind of a dead giveaway, my love.” 

“Yes, it’s necessary!” You huffed, as you tugged the blindfold over Hyunjins eyes, fixing his hair as you did so. “ Don’t act all smart with me! Just cuz it’s your birthday doesn’t mean you know everything.” You both were just coming back from a dinner with his family, they elected to take him out to celebrate his 24th birthday.

He laughed at your teasing words, “So when we walk in, it’s not going to be a surprise party?” 

”...... I cannot confirm nor deny any such accusations.” 

 You paused as you stuck the key in the door to your home, knowing the surprise was ruined. Well, one of them anyway.

“Just a heads up before we go in, don’t lose that blindfold.” 

“Huh?” 

You ignored his inquiry and opened the door, leading him inside and shutting the door. You held up three fingers, then two, and one. “Take it off, baby.” 

Hyunjin ripped the blindfold off and was bombarded with a loud “SURPRISE HYUNJIN!”. He looked like a child with the way he was grinning from ear to ear, clapping in excitement at seeing all of his friends in one place. 

The apartment was decorated floor to ceiling in streamers and banners of all colors. There was  even a cardboard cut out of him and placed near a makeshift photo booth in the corner. Clearly a lot of work had gone into this party. 

You took Hyunjins coat from his shoulders as he was pulled further into the home by Felix who immediately took him to get a drink. You watched as he mingled and laughed with his friends and loved ones. He had been working so hard lately and deserved to have some good genuine fun. 

It was hours later, and most of the people at the party had left already. The only ones left in your living room other than you and Hyunjin were Han and Felix. Both the boys were drunk out of their minds. Felix was giggling to himself as rolled on the ground, and Jisung was laid on the couch cuddling with the cardboard Hyunjin, already asleep with drool seeping out of his mouth. 

Hyunjin only had one drink during the party so he wasn’t drunk, having let the first drink fade away over the course of the night. You entered the room carrying blankets for the two drunk boys. There was no way they could make it home in this state and neither of you had a problem with them staying over. 

“Here you are, guys. Blankets and pillows.” You handed some to Felix and went to give some to Jisung but instead just draped a blanket over his form. “Uhh I guess I’ll set this here for him if he wakes up.” 

Felix yawned as he curled his small body into the blankets right there on the floor. “Nighty night.” 

Hyunjin ruffled his hair in passing, chuckling “ night Lix.” 

Hyunjin followed you down the hall into your shared bedroom, you were sitting on the bed as he closed the door. You had sultry eyes, eyeing him up and down as he stepped into the room. “Come er’ baby.” You curled your finger, drawing him closer. He humored you with a smirk as he came closer to you until he was right in front of you. You stood up as you gave him a gentle kiss. “Did you enjoy your party, Jinnie?” 

“It was great, my love. The perfect way to end my birthday.” He smiled as he gave you another kiss, using his hand to tilt your face back. 

“Mmm your birthday isn’t quite over yet though. I still haven't given you my present.” you purred, looking up at him through your lashes. 

He bit his lip, eyes glimmering “Oh yeah sweet thing?” 

“Mmhmm” you leaned on your toes and got close to his ear. “Now why don’t you be a good birthday boy and sit down on the bed for me.” 

He raised his brows at your dominance and smirked in amusement, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “Whatever you say boss lady.” He gestured for you to continue. 

You gathered your nerves, trying not to let him see just how shy you were. With a deep breath you locked eyes with him, having a mini staring contest before you slipped your dress down your shoulders and let it fall to the floor. 

“Fuck, my love.” He let out a groan at the sight of you in the sheer black lingerie you wore under your dress. It was a bra and panty combo, coming with garters that hugged your thighs and hips perfectly. There were darker black flowers in the lace, almost as if to give off a more innocent look. Though to him, it was absolutely sinful. 

You tutted when he reached out for you, backing away a few feet. “Nuh uh. No touching, yet.” 

He whined and jutted out his signature pouty lip, “But it’s my birthday you can’t be mean to me!” 

“I think I’m being anything but mean to you, Jinnie” you were giggling as you said it. “If you listen, it’ll make your present even better.” He let out a ‘hmph’ with his pout, but nodded his head anyway. “Still got that blindfold?” He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out the fabric blindfold. You took it from his hands, “Perfect, thank you very much. Now I want you to take your clothes off.” 

He rolled his eyes playfully, “someones bossy today” even with his snark he complied, unbuttoning his shirt slowly while his dark eyes maintained contact with you. When it was fully unbuttoned he let it slide off his shoulders, giving you a view of his toned torso. Even though your boyfriend was on the skinnier side, he still had a good amount of muscle. Enough to toss you around at his leisure, at least. 

Hyunjin watched as you bit your lip when his pants were the next thing to go, noticing how you were unable to stop your eyes from flickering to the bulge in his underwear. He loved how much you admired his body. It made him proud of the work he had been putting into it. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” He had a smug grin as he tugged his underwear off next, showing off his hardening cock. No matter how many times you’ve seen it- felt it inside you- it was still the most mouth watering sight to you.

“Pictures are your thing, Jinnie. My thing is telling you to lay down on the bed.” You pointed to the top of the bed with your pillows, and gave him a ‘get to it’ hand wave. 

He shook with laughter as he scooted back on the bed. You had never even attempted to dom him before in the bedroom so it was unsurprising that he didn’t take you very seriously. Though, you were grateful he was at least following your directions. 

Watching you tell him what to do, while you looked like a goddess, was the ultimate birthday gift. You were already the most radiant and beautiful woman he had ever seen but wearing this set, you could ask him to do literally anything and he would do it with a smile.  Or maybe, almost anything.

You licked your bottom lip lightly and seductively made your way to the side of the best towards Hyunjin. The sway of your hips and the fire behind your fluttering stare made his mouth water. He was a man who eats with his eyes, afterall. “You’re the most alluring being on this planet, you know that? God, looking at you is having my cake and eating it too.I’ll never tire of looking at you, lover.” 

When you gracefully approached him you leaned your face down real close to his ear, letting your breath hit the skin, and with a quiet amusement to your voice you whispered, “Put this on, lover.”

“What?” 

He glanced down to your hand that was holding out the blindfold for him to take. Hyunjin shook his head in disbelief, his world suddenly crashing down. 

“Are you being for real right now?” He gave you an incredulous eyebrow raise. 

You hummed, “the realest. Put it on for me, Jinnie.” you batted your lashes at him and jutted out your lip. “Or do I have to do it for you?” 

A low rumble came from his throat, the sex appeal of you compelling him to listen despite his inner turmoil screaming at him to not take his eyes off you. Hyunjin gently snatched the blindfold from you and he slipped it over his head, after giving you one more glance over as if to memorize your visage. 

You hummed your appreciation as you leaned in and gave him a delicate kiss to his pout. He chased your lips as you pulled away, reaching for you but you backed up too far for him to reach. “Darling, come on.” 

You stayed silent as you walked around to the other side of the bed, keeping your footsteps undetectable. This was exhilarating for you. You guys had a discussion a few months ago about maybe trying blindfolds, but it was assumed he would use them on you. What a twist to use it on him first. 

“Love? Where did you g-oh!” You surprised him when you appeared on the opposite side of him and suddenly sat on his lap, straddling his hips just above his member. 

“M’ right here Jinnie.” You raked your nails over his chest and collar bones. His skin turned red as you drew the lines, causing him to hiss quietly. You ran your tongue over the leftover marks, soothing the flesh. He sighed and put his hand on your hip but you smacked it away quickly. “I said no touching, Jinnie.” 

“You’re gonna kill me, sweetheart.” 

You scooted back on him just a little, until you were grinding your hips on his length. Your panties were crotchless so he could tell just how wet you were for him, feeling the glide of your folds over his hardness. You whimpered when the head nudged into your clit. 

He grunted at your sound, able to keenly hear every little sound that escaped you; the blindfold may have blocked his sight but it definitely heightened his other senses. His whole body felt like it was alight, skin pin prickly and tingly as you peppered wet kisses and tongue drags across his collarbones and you grind against him. 

“My love, please, have mercy. Please put it in, you know I can make you feel so good.” He was panting, hands still at his side as he gripped the sheets. 

You hummed, pretending to think about it, “I don’t know, Jinnie. You’re already making me feel so good.” 

“But you know having my cock in you could make you feel even better. You love it when I'm inside, hitting your sweet spot that turns you into putty in my hands.” He was trying to seduce you through his whimpers, attempting to make you see reason. 

“I’m the one who’s trying to make you putty in my hands, baby. It’s your birthday after all.” 

“You’re right it is my birthday.” He panted, licking his lips. “And do you know what I want as my final birthday wish?”

“Do tell.” You moaned when he hit your clit again. 

“I just want to worship you, like the masterpiece you are. Please my goddess, let me leave a sacred prayer at the altar between your thighs.”

Well, who were you to deny him when he spoke poetry like that? 

“Ok, Jinnie. You can do whatever you want to me.” The words barely escaped your lips before his hands were on you. It was like a switch flipped in him as he went from this whimpering boy under you to a growling man, using his strength to flip you over so you were the one on your back. 

You gasped at the sudden display of dominance, watching him rip the blindfold of his eyes. His pupils had grown twice as big in lust and he looked ravenous as he got reacquainted with your special outfit. 

“My love, tomorrow I am absolutely painting you while you wear this for me. Gonna hang it in the entry way for all to see. I need to be in you. You’ve teased me long enough.” He ran the tip of his member into your core, collecting even more nectar from you, before her gently pushed in. “Fuck, so tight for me.”

“Ngghh Jinnie!” You squealed as he entered you. He always filled you perfectly, hitting your g spot on the first thrust everytime. It’s moments like this you forget why you would ever deny him (and yourself) this pleasure. 

“My goddess, my own personal aphrodite. Always so pliant and warm and ripe for the taking.” Hyunjin always got mushy when he was buried inside of you, as if possessed by a long dead shakespearean poet whose only job in the afterlife is to make you drunk on his words. “ You truly are the greatest creation in all of the universe. My lover, my deity.” 

“Fuck Jinnie, m��� all for you.” You cried out as he began to drill into you, going from letting you adjust straight into hard rutting. You were so warm, your walls enveloping him and begging to hold him hostage. 

He was moaning into your mouth, biting on your lips and trying to get as close to you as possible. One of his hands was on your thigh and the other was slithering its way up to your chest. His long fingers found your nipple through the fabric of your bra and gave it a sensual pinch, not too hard, only enough to stimulate you further. 

“My goddess is so good to me, making my special day so perfect. What a blessing you have given me.” He grunted the words as his thrusting increased, feeling his high coming quickly after all the tension and buildup. “Need you to bless me one more time. Need you to give me your nectar, please baby.” 

“Oh my fucking god, Jinnie.” You moaned loudly when the hand that was on your thigh suddenly found the puffy bundle between your legs. You were already so stimulated from his words and thrusts, that the harsh circles he drew on your clit was all you needed. You felt the knot in your stomach explode as you came. “M’ cumming, fuck” 

“Mmmm give it to me. Give me my last present, sweet girl.” He felt you clench on him as you shook from pleasure. “Nggggggggh ohmygod you’re squeezing me so tight, love.” His rutting got even more intense, and his drooling lips captured your own. He shoved his tongue into your mouth, tasting your mouth and growling into you. When you bit his tongue he suddenly lost control, and came with a loud groan against you. 

His hips were bucking wildly as he chased his high, tears gathering on his lash line and hands gripping your body harshly. You could feel him spilling into you, the intense heat he always created being comforting and making you shiver. He ran his lips all over your face as he came down, just laying on you until his dick became too overstimulated and he had to remove himself from within you. 

When Hyunjin pulled back from you, he had a tear rolling down his face. You reached up with a worried coo and wiped it away. “Are you ok, my love? Was it too much?” 

He shook his head, “I’m ok. I just love you, so much. This has been a perfect birthday.” He sniffled as he fell into the spot next to you, pulling you into him. 

“I love you too, Jinnie. You deserve the world. If I can give it to you for at least one day, then I’ll have done my job as your girlfriend. Happy birthday.” You snuggled into him, kissing his chest. 

“You’re more than my girlfriend.” You hummed in puzzlement. “You're my goddess.”

The next morning when you both walked out of your room you found Felix and Jisung sat at your kitchen table, drinking coffee. With how drunk they were last night it was a surprise they weren’t still asleep.

“Morning, boys.” You yawned and waved. 

They both looked at you with an evil glint in their eyes. 

“UHHH OH MY GOD JINNIE.” Jisung faked moaning dramatically in a high pitched voice. 

“NNNGG SO TIGHT, MY GODDESS FUCK” Felix imitated Hyunjn, lowering his tone and groaning. 

They both burst into laughter at the horrified look on both of your faces. 

“I thought you fuckers were dead asleep!” Hyunjin squeaked, his face red with embarrassment. You just buried your face in your hands and turned around going back to your room, the deafening laughter and teasing making you shake your head. Coffee could wait until they’ve calmed down or left. This is what you get for being a benevolent deity and letting them stay over. 

A/N: I hope Hyunjin has the happiest of birthdays ever :) And that he never ever reads this -.-

Comments and reblogs are very much appreciated!

Lemme know what yall think I thrive off of feedback

Tagged- @ayejaii

©doitforbangchan

[rosylix]

flower

짙은 어둠 속에 피어난, 한 송이 꽃처럼 𔓘

after practicing with felix, you try to go back to normal. unfortunately, the universe doesn't seem to want that for you.

pairing: bff!felix × gn!reader

wc: 7.3k

content: two pining idiots, inexperienced reader, fluff! (but make it awkward), slight angst, smut?ish, only one bed trope kinda lol, wet dream (like kinda somno? not really but just in case), 'dude' is used gender neutrally. umm yea! college au

a/n: so i got a bit carried away and added way more plot than necessary here. woops. also made it a college au bc why not! kinda made them nerds sorry lol (they were always nerds.)

so this is the first segment of the final part. aka part 3 but there will be a part 4 [dizzy emoji].. for now i hope you enjoy this bit! 𖹭

[also read on ao3]

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

—

A week passes, and contrary to your expectations, the two of you actually do go back to normal. At least, Felix seems to have, so even if your brain still feels a little funny around him you follow suit and pretend nothing happened.

Not that it's been easy. Especially when his neck was still covered in those stupid marks you left. Thankfully, he can cover them up pretty well (you know, considering the state you left him in) but it was still irritating as hell; seeing the shape of one just barely peeking out of his hoodie or the way you’d find your eyes instinctively drawn to his neck whenever you saw him throughout the week.

The marks have faded to the point of being barely visible, but they're permanently seared into your brain, along with the memory of him underneath you. But that’s all it is now, a memory. You make sure of it.

And it's fine. Mostly. It’s easy enough to ignore any lingering awkwardness by focusing on more important things. For instance, midterms are coming up, and Felix is losing his mind.

He’s sprawled out on the floor of his room, papers spread out around him and a pout on his lips. “Ugh, I can’t believe I’m gonna have to study all weekend,” he whines, throwing his pencil down in frustration. He’s been studying for hours and he’s already at the ‘pulling his hair out’ phase.

“Yeah…” you agree with a half sympathetic, half amused smile. He always gets like this around exam time. 

He lets his head fall onto the ground in front of him, narrowly avoiding the various papers, pencils, and textbooks littering the floor. "Why do they have to make these fucking tests so hard? It's not like the stuff we're learning is even relevant to anything. Oh my god. I'm gonna fail,” he says, voice muffled from under the carpet.

“You’re being dramatic,” you laugh as you toss the textbook you’d been reading for your own class aside.

Felix groans and (dramatically) turns over on his back. “I am not being dramatic. I’m suffering!” he exclaims, bringing his hands to cover his face. “I am dying. I’m a dead man and you don’t care. You're gonna have to plan my funeral after this.”

You roll your eyes. “Ohh nooo. You have to study over the weekend. It’s the end of the world.”

He peeks out from under his hands to glare at you. “I'm glad this is so amusing to you. You're supposed to be my best friend but you're doing nothing to help. Wow. I’ll haunt you when I'm dead after this.”

You laugh and roll your eyes again. This time, your eyes seem to catch on how his hoodie is pushed up above his waist a little from when he flopped onto the floor, showing a sliver of skin. 

...Seriously? Focus. Think about literally anything else right now.

Shaking your head, you slide off the bed and make your way to him, sitting down and crossing your legs next to his head. “Sit up and I’ll help you study,” you sigh.

"But I don't wannaaaa,” he whines, but he starts to sit up anyway. “I just wanna relax,” he pouts like a child, looking up at you with his signature puppy eyes. “Help me procrastinate instead?”

You laugh in disbelief. “You've procrastinated enough. Shouldn't you focus?”

(You haven’t been very focused either, but that's besides the point.)

He shakes his head fervently and slumps against you with a groan. “Nooo. Stop being responsible. Let's take a break.”

You huff, choosing to ignore the way your heart beats a little faster when he leans against you. “You’re so annoying,” you say, trying to sound frustrated but you can’t help if it comes out a little fondly. “Alright, fine. We have been at it for a while,” you admit.

He pulls back and grins, all too familiar with your inability to deny him when he’s being a big baby like this. It's too effective. It’s actually a little infuriating how good he is at being cute, and how effective it is on you. You cave. Every time. Though, this time he looks particularly pleased with himself.

“See? Even you couldn’t be the responsible one for that long,” he snickers. “I knew you’d give in.”

You groan and look away, as if that will somehow counteract his point. “You're a bad influence.”

He laughs again, shifting backwards before flopping back down to the floor, but this time he lays his head in your lap, smiling up at you. The close proximity has your heart fluttering in your chest and you swear you can feel yourself overheating a little. Why is he like this?

This is normal. It’s normal. Chill.

He grins up at you, oblivious to your internal crisis, and he makes himself more comfortable in your lap, shifting his body a little. "There. See? Isn't this so much better than studying?"

You swallow. The warm weight of his head in your lap, the way he peers up at you through thick lashes, hair falling around him like a halo, some of it falling into his eyes... It's— it's something.

You clear your throat, gently pushing him off, ignoring his little frown as you do so. You stand up and extend your hand down to him and sigh. “Come on. Let's go procrastinate then.”

“Ugh, why—” he starts to protest but you grab his hand and help pull him up anyway. “What are you doing? I was comfy,” he pouts.

You give him a sly look. “So, you don't wanna make cookies with me?”

You have to resist the urge to laugh at the look on his face. “Wait, really?” He perks up instantly, eyes glowing.

“Yeah, I mean, if you want,” you smile.

He bounces on his feet. “Yes! Can we make the ones with the white chocolate chips? The store finally had them when I checked last time.”

You make a face of mock disgust as he starts pulling you towards the door. “No, we are not making the ones with white chocolate chips. They're atrocious.”

“What?!” he gasps, acting scandalized. “Fuck you. They're good!”

You roll your eyes at him as he pulls you into the kitchen. He’s still holding onto your hand. It should be normal, but since when has anything felt normal these past few days?

“White chocolate chips are fine! I don’t get why you don’t like them,” he continues with a pout, finally letting go of your hand to rummage through the kitchen cabinets.

“They're not even chocolate, Felix,” you point out, watching in amusement as he struggles to reach the top shelf.

“Okay? I'm failing to see your point," he replies, making a little noise of triumph when he finally reaches whatever he’s looking for.

You just shake your head. “Yeah, whatever…” You help him set some things on the counter before sighing. “You're so lucky your dorm has a kitchen. If I had one I swear I'd be baking stuff like every single day.”

“I guess I am lucky.” He laughs, grabbing the mixing bowl from the corner cabinet and placing it on the counter. “Isn't there a shared one for your floor or something?”

“Yeah, but it's…” you shudder.

“Ah. Yeah…” He pauses, pondering something, before raising an eyebrow. “So that's why you come over so much? For the kitchen?”

“Duh.”

"I knew it… You’re only using me for free oven access?” he teases. "I’m wounded.” He drapes his hand over his forehead in a dramatic flourish and slumps against the counter.

“Yep, you caught me,” you laugh. “You and Hannie keep it somewhat clean at least.”

“My own best friend… The betrayal…” he tries to pout but ends up giggling. Then, he seems to think of something and claps his hands excitedly. “You should move in with me!”

Whoa. “W-What?”

“You know how Jisung is always over at Minho's? He's gonna officially move in next year,” Felix explains. “Like, I'm happy for them but Sung's ditching me? What happened to the bro code? But, anyway,” he laughs. “There'll be an empty bedroom. You should totally take it!”

You blink at him, brain short-circuiting for a second. "You— you’re serious?"

"Yeah," he says casually, like he didn’t just propose something so life-altering. "It’ll be like a sleepover every night!” he exclaims, grinning widely.

You can’t help the way your heart thuds a little faster in your chest, a fluttery feeling in your stomach. Living together? With Felix?

The idea is tempting. Like, incredibly so. Your own place is small, the communal kitchen area is… horrific, and your roommate tends to ignore your existence. It's a bit less than ideal.

But… you know there's a big risk of things becoming very awkward very quickly. It sounds like a dream, and at the same time, it’s a recipe for disaster. Spending that much time together could either bring you closer or push you apart. And with your recent… weirdness.. about him… you’re not sure which one is worse.

You must be silent for too long because Felix glances at you and looks a little unsure, like he suddenly regrets saying it. “I mean— you don’t have to, of course! It was just an idea. I’m sure you’re comfortable in your place and all. I didn’t mean to, like, push that on you—”

You cut him off before he can go too far. “No! No, it’s—” you shake your head, trying to choose your words carefully. “I… I'll think about it.”

He looks surprised, like he wasn't expecting that response. He lets out a breath, relief and a tentative excitement evident on his face. 

“Okay,” he says softly, the corners of his mouth twitching a bit like he’s trying to keep himself from breaking into a big smile. “Uh, yeah, of course. No pressure,” he continues. “But, y'know, I'd be way happier to have you than some random new person. You practically live here already anyway. I think it'd be fun.”

Or it could ruin everything. But when Felix smiles at you, a hopeful look in his eyes… you can't bring yourself to shut down the idea completely.

“Yeah. It might be fun,” you say, trying to keep your tone neutral.

He grins, and a wave of excitement suddenly washes back over him. "We can bake all the time, and play games, and watch movies— Oh my god, it would be so fucking awesome.”

You laugh at the sparkle in his eyes. "Yeah, okay," you tap his head with a mixing spoon. “Shut up and grab the sugar. Let's not get ahead of ourselves.”

“Yessir.”

—

You end up splitting the cookie dough and making half with normal chocolate chips and half with the ugly white sugar chips. They turned out better than they had any right to be, considering you and Felix goofed off a bit too much while making them. (Even the white chocolate ones are pretty good). The two of you munch on them as you return to studying. Felix doesn't argue, content having taken a long break and sugar in his system.

You work in comfortable silence, listening to the soft pitter patter of rain until the sun starts to set. With a yawn, you shut your laptop in front of you.

"I think I'm done for today," you say, standing up and stretching.

Felix glances up from his spot on the floor, chin in his hand, surrounded by a mess of books and papers. "Really?"

"Yeah. How about you?"

He sighs, leaning back and stretching. "I still have so much left to go through," he complains, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"That's your own fault for playing games all week instead of studying," you laugh softly.

He pouts at you. "I know, I know." Then he groans and falls backwards on the floor, throwing his arms over his face. "Man, I'm tired. I'm done too."

You giggle at the sight of him splayed out on the floor. “Alright, cool. I should be heading out anyway,” you say, starting to gather your things. Then, as if on cue, a loud rumble of thunder echoes outside.

Oh shit. You both glance at each other, then towards the window, where the rain you thought would have passed by now is quickly developing into a full-on storm. Great. The universe must be out to get you.

Felix gets up from the floor and walks to the window. "Damn, can you even go home in this? It looks pretty bad out there.”

You join him at the window and peer outside. The rain is coming down harder, droplets hitting against the windowpane incessantly. You grimace. Well, it's not that bad, but it still isn't something you'd like to walk through.

Oh well. You sigh. “It's.. it's alright. Could I borrow an umbrella?”

He doesn’t answer right away, continuing to peer out the window. A frown spreads across his face before he speaks. “Of course, but… are you sure? You can stay the night if you want.”

“Uh—”

Well… normally, you wouldn't mind. You've slept over tons of times before. But this time feels different, and suddenly the thought of staying is a bit nerve-wracking. 

"A little rain won't kill me,” you settle on saying. 

Felix glances back at you, eyebrows furrowing in concern. He looks like he's about to say something, but another crash of thunder interrupts him.

He frowns and crosses his arms, leaning against the frame of the window. It's undeniably attractive. “A little rain? I can't let you walk home in this, are you crazy? It's dangerous.”

“But—” you start to protest.

"Nope,” he cuts in. “You’re not risking it. It's getting dark too,” he points out. He looks outside, then back at your face, sighing. His face softens. “...Okay. If you really want to go, at least let me walk you.”

“You don't have to walk me, Felix.”

“Yeah, I kinda do. Who knows what could happen to you? You could get struck by lightning! Or…” He gives you a once over. “You could, like, slip and bleed out in a puddle or something. Or die of hypothermia or some fucking thing. I don't know!” He throws his hands up.

You let out a breathless laugh. You don’t want to argue with him, but staying the night is definitely making you anxious to think about. You don't want to trouble him with walking back and forth in that weather either, but Felix seems stubborn on the matter. What's worse, the look on his face has you worrying he might think you're trying to get away from him or something.

(Which isn't… wrong. But Felix would misunderstand. It's not because you don't like him. It's…)

You exhale, looking outside one more time. With the rain getting worse by the minute, staying the night seems like the only reasonable choice. 

Felix taps his foot impatiently, observing the growing storm. “So?”

“Okay, fine. I'll stay… You're right, it's getting pretty bad out there," you concede.

He opens his mouth but then quickly shuts it again, suddenly looking a bit unsure. He studies your face and you almost want to hide at how intently he's staring. Why, why is he staring like that? Like he can see right through you. Didn't you just say what he wanted? Did he change his mind about letting you stay?

But, the moment passes before you can do anything and he looks away. "Thank god,” he huffs. “I was really fighting off the mental images of your dead body in a ditch.”

You scoff. “I'm not that weak.”

“I know,” he says with a soft smile. Then he smirks, glancing back at you. "You're not weak. Just clumsy.” 

You shove him in response and he laughs, the smirk on his face turning into a grin. The tension from earlier dissolves a bit and you can finally breathe again; the air starts to feel less awkward, comfortable.

“So,” he says, standing up straight. "Since you're staying, want some clothes to change into? I don’t think you wanna sleep in jeans.”

He doesn't wait for an answer, already shuffling through his drawer and handing a plain black t-shirt and sweatpants over to you.

You take them gingerly, trying to ignore how your nerves suddenly spike again. "Thanks," you murmur, clutching the soft fabric in your hands.

Maybe he senses something because he keeps his distance, eyes roaming over your face once more, curiosity and something else in his gaze. 

Then, he clears his throat. “You know the bathroom is all yours if you need,” he says, turning back to his mess of papers on the floor. “I'm gonna try to get a little more studying done. Maybe. I'm really fighting the urge to open League right now.” 

"Felix," you raise your eyebrows at him with a laugh, "If I find you mid ranked match in twenty minutes, I'm pouring water on your computer."

He purses his lips. “You wouldn't.”

“Try me,” you taunt and make your way to the bathroom. You close the door behind you and let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

That was good. See? You can banter with him and everything like normal. There's nothing to be weird about. You can be normal about this.

You sigh. Yeah, right. This is so dumb. You’ve stayed over countless times before. You’ve worn his clothes before, shared a bed with him before. It's just Felix.

So why… Why is it so hard to be normal right now?

(You're not so stupid you don't know the answer to that. You're definitely in denial about… something, and you'll gladly stay that way for as long as you can help it. It's easier to not think about it.)

Your head hurts. God. Maybe a shower will clear your mind.

It does. You feel lighter and refreshed when you step out and you quickly change into the clothes Felix gave you; his scent envelopes you as you slip on the shirt and you instantly feel more at ease, comforted. You're good. Everything's cool.

When you step into Felix's bedroom, you find him exactly where you left him, leaning on a pile of pillows on the floor, hunched over a textbook. True to his word, he's trying to study again but he looks like he's seconds away from giving up.

"Hey,” you announce your entrance. “Successfully resisting the clutches of League?” you ask, giggling at the sight of him sprawled on the floor.

“Heyyy,” he drawls, not looking up from his book. “Proud of me? I'm actually studying. Not like I'll ever reach silver no matter how much I fucking—”

His words seem to die in his throat as he finally glances up and sees you standing in the doorway. His eyes widen instantly, scanning up and down your body, lips parted in shock.

"That's, um, um. That's—” he stutters, tongue tied all of a sudden. 

You frown a bit at his reaction, feeling self-conscious. Is your hair too flat? Are the clothes not right? You adjust the falling neckline of the shirt before taking a seat on the floor, trying to ignore the way he's still staring.

You swear you see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows and he quickly looks away as you sit next to him.

“...What?” you ask, trying not to assume the worst.

“You— uh, the,” he gestures to your outfit vaguely. “It fits, uh— better? Than it used to? Yeah. Looks nice.”

He sounds a bit strangled and now you're definitely convinced you look strange.

“Um, thanks…" you mutter, trying not to show how thrown off his reaction has you feeling. You toy with the hem of the soft material self-consciously. Obviously they don't fit properly, they’re Felix’s clothes after all. You’ve borrowed them before, why is he suddenly being so weird?

Felix fidgets with the corner of his textbook, avoiding eye contact as if the words on the pages are suddenly the most interesting thing he’s ever read.

He clears his throat. “Uh, yeah, anyway. I'm pretty much done. Was just waiting for you.” He closes the book and finally lifts his eyes to meet your gaze and he has a strange, shy smile plastered on his face. You open your mouth to ask if he’s alright, but he starts speaking again, barely giving you a moment to get a word in.

“I— Dude, I'm like— I'm honestly gonna fail this class,” he groans, burying his face in his hands. “Like, I'm actually just not built for academia. I’m gonna drop out and then start working at the… fucking convenience store or something.” He lets out a long sigh. “Or, y'know, I'll start streaming. That seems pretty nice. I could be, like, a huge streamer guy. Tons of people will watch. I'll be famous. You could be my manager.”

You blink, trying to make sense of the sudden topic change. 

“Uh, First of all,” you say, gently knocking his knee with your own, “You're smart as hell. You'll graduate just fine. Second, I highly doubt many people would suddenly start watching some nerd’s League streams.”

He whines and gives you a pouty look. “Why not?? I’m funny, I’d be great,” he protests, sitting up with a huff.

“Yeah, right. I’d be managing a streamer who can’t even get to gold rank. Embarrassing.”

He scoffs, acting offended. “Hey! I didn’t say I'd make League streams. I could be a variety streamer, y’know.”

“Oh yeah? So you can stream how fast you lose at every game?” you say, grinning at his sulky expression. You understand him, the way he teases you all the time. It's fun when you're not on the receiving end. 

He places a hand over his chest, feigning offense. “Wow,” he deadpans. “Can’t believe you're attacking me like this in my time of despair.”

You grin a bit and roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Stop being dramatic, you know I’m right. You need to get better if you want to start your streaming career.”

“Dude. I could get to gold if I wanted to. I just... choose not to. Bronze is a good rank, y’know. It’s like, the vibe.” The pout returns on his face. “Plus, my viewers wouldn’t care about that. They’ll be there for my personality.”

You arch a brow. “Your personality.”

“Yeah, my personality! Shut up. If League doesn't work, I could play like, Call of Duty, or… or like, Animal Crossing! Hey, I can't lose at Animal Crossing now, can I?”

“You might be onto something,” you muse.

“No…” he groans. “It’s never gonna happen. My dreams of becoming a famous streamer have to die because of… stupid calculus and… all these boring things.”

He drops his head on your shoulder, pouting at the thought of having to spend more time studying. You laugh and reach a hand up to pat his head, playing with his hair absentmindedly. 

"It's not that bad. You'll get through this," you say, trying to console him. "But seriously,” you continue, “I can’t believe you play so much League but never got past bronze. What are you even doing?”

He whines and buries his face in the crook of your neck, mumbling something about “bad teammates”.

The contact is familiar and comforting. He gets clingy like this often, especially when he's tired. You can feel his warm breath against your skin, its steady rhythm sending tingles down your spine. His hair is soft under your fingertips. And you are so, so normal. 

“Have you ever considered… that maybe you… are the bad teammate?” you can't help but tease.

“Heyyy,” he whines again, lifting his head to look at you with an offended expression.

You giggle at the sight of his disgruntled face and it seems to only make him sulk more, the pout on his face growing deeper. Cute.

“After all we've been through…” he breathes out. “After I’ve trusted you with my life. I can’t believe I’m hearing this from my own best friend… the absolute backstabbing…”

He's ridiculous. "You might wanna think of some new material, Mr. Variety Streamer,” you laugh. “The theatrics are getting a little old.”

He continues to pout, his gaze fixed on you. He’s so close, face just a few inches away from yours, and your heart jumps at the realization. Or maybe it jumps because of the way he’s looking at you; scrutinizing your face intently, his eyes flitting across your features like he’s trying to commit them to memory. You shift around nervously. Something's off about how he's looking at you. You thought you’d seen a flash of… well, you don’t know what it was. But it makes you feel…

Warm and fluttering in your stomach, but in the worst, most uncomfortable way. You hate the way your body reacts so vividly to literally nothing. You really, really hate it.

Luckily (or unfortunately?), a particularly loud rumble of thunder echoes outside and he jumps.

He instantly leans away, as if he just realized himself how close you were. “Sorry, I— Geez, this weather sucks,” he complains, glancing toward the window. The storm outside is still raging, rain pelting against the window mercilessly.

“Yeah,” you say dumbly, feeling cold now that Felix has pulled away.

You push down the thoughts of how badly you want him to lean on you again, or how you wish he could hold you like he usually does. It’s easier to ignore whatever you’re feeling while he’s busy being all silly and clingy.

This is stupid. It's just so… frustrating, and you have no idea what to make of any of the thoughts that are running through your mind.

There’s a pause as he continues watching the rain outside, eyes following the raindrops dancing down the window panes. You try to study his expression; it’s pensive, almost contemplative, much like the look in his eyes earlier. 

“Are you tired?” he finally asks.

You blink. “Uh.” You realize that you are actually pretty tired. “Yeah, a little.”

The admission makes you yawn and Felix smiles in return, his expression softening. 

He pushes himself off the floor and looks at you for a moment, like he's about to say something — and then he doesn’t. Instead, he offers a hand to help you off the ground.

“Come on,” he says, hand extended. “We should get to sleep before the electricity inevitably goes out.”

You let him pull you up and he lets go of your hand quickly as he motions for you to get on the bed.

“I’ll go and— um,” he stumbles over his words, taking a few steps back. “I'll go shower real quick and then we can, uh… sleep.” 

He disappears before you can say anything and leaves you sitting on the edge of the bed, suddenly feeling more tense and awkward than earlier.

You release a long breath. Okay. Okay, everything's fine. Just the two of you, sleeping in the same bed. No big deal. That’s happened plenty of times before. You try to steady your breathing as you sit there on his bed, surrounded by his pillows, his blankets, his scent.

You run a hand through your hair and scroll through your phone, trying to distract yourself. It’s going to be a long night.

When the door opens ten minutes later, you look up. Felix's hair is damp and he's wearing a loose white t-shirt with sweatpants, the material hanging low on his hips. His skin is a little flushed from the shower. He looks so soft and effortlessly pretty, you kind of want to scream.

“Hey,” he whispers as he shuts the bedroom door behind him, “You good?”

You nod, throat suddenly dry.

He clears his throat and walks towards the bed, standing there quietly. He doesn’t look at you for a long minute and you start to wonder if he’s thinking the same things you are, or if you’re overthinking everything and he’s fine.

“Well, let’s head to sleep then.” He breaks his gaze from the floor and turns to look at you again, a hint of worry on his face. “Uh, you can take the bed tonight, alright? I’ll just sleep on the floor or something.”

“What— Why?” you exclaim.

“I—” he blinks, taken aback, as if he didn't expect you to ask that. “I don't know? If, I mean, if you... like…” he trails off, looking away again. “The floor doesn't look that bad.”

It does. The cold, worn floor does look that bad. You must look worse. You're not an idiot, you can read in between the lines. He's uncomfortable sleeping next to you.

There’s no other reason for him to not want to sleep in the same bed as you. You've shared this bed with him countless times before. If he's not comfortable with you now…

Your mind is racing. Even if your awkwardness is because of your unbidden… lunacy towards him… he explicitly told you he doesn't see you like that. As much as you've been trying to repress everything and act normal like he's been… it hasn't worked. This is decidedly not normal.

There's a tense silence as you try to figure out what to say. The knot in your stomach tightens with every passing second and you try to push down the hurt that’s threatening to surface. You're making him uncomfortable. If you could just be normal about all this— Fuck. It's all your fault. 

"Shut up," you finally manage to mutter, starting to shuffle off the bed. “It's your bed. I'll take the floor."

“What— No, hey, stop—” he protests quickly, stepping forward to grab your arm. “Don’t— I couldn't let you do that. It's not— no.” he sputters.

You meet his eyes in confusion. He still has a grip on you, fingers warm and soft against your skin.

“You’re not sleeping on the floor,” he says firmly, voice a bit lower than usual. “That's stupid. I just thought, maybe…” his grip on your arm tightens the tiniest bit.

“...What?” you ask quietly. 

He shakes his head, releasing your arm with a sigh.

You look at him, really look at him, the way his eyes won't meet yours, shoulders slumped, fingers tapping his thigh nervously. “Just,” you sigh. “You said it's stupid if I sleep there. Same for you. Just come here.”

He looks at you once more, searching your face. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you nod, hopefully sounding more confident than you feel.

Your heart is pounding. You’re trying your best to ignore the tension in the room and act like everything’s fine. Like spending the night sleeping with your best friend when he clearly doesn’t want you to be close to him anymore isn’t breaking your heart. 

You give him a tight-lipped smile as you finally get under the blankets and lay on your side with your back towards him. 

Felix hesitantly climbs into bed next to you, keeping a fair distance. He doesn’t say anything at first. You think he’s just going to sleep and you’re both going to ignore whatever that was about. Cool, you can do that. You're great at doing that. Then, he huffs. 

"I’m so fucking tired," he mumbles as he shifts beside you and you hum in agreement.

“Yeah, now imagine sleeping on the floor.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Thank you. Um… sorry for being weird.”

You don't know what to say to that. “...You’re always weird,” you manage quietly.

He lets out a low chuckle and you feel some of the tension leave your body. It’s a familiar banter, one you’ve done with him for ages, so you grasp onto it, desperate for any semblance of normalcy.

“I’m sorry, though,” he says seriously. “I’m kind of an idiot, you know.” 

“...Yeah, I know.”

“I— wow,” he laughs softly. “Chat, what did I do to deserve this?”

You mirror his laugh and turn on your back to face him. 

His hair has gotten longer. The messy locks are fanned around his head on the pillow. His eyes are wide underneath his bangs, studying your face with an expression you can’t quite pin down. 

He’s so pretty. You wonder how you ever thought you could act normal after everything that's happened.

“Is the chat in the room with us?” you ask around a smirk, and pray your voice doesn't sound too breathless.

He snorts and you swear you can almost see the pout on his face. Yeah, he’s fine. He’s back to his regular self. You should be, too. 

“Shut up,” he pokes your shoulder weakly. 

Your heart does something stupid in your chest at the contact and you press your face further into the pillow to hide the flush that’s undoubtedly on your face right now. 

A few moments pass in silence and you close your eyes, hoping sleep will come soon and end this mess of a night. You don’t know how much time passes. Felix is silent and you feel yourself drifting off, sleep tugging at your consciousness, when you hear him whispering in the dark.

“Hey,” he says your name quietly. “You awake?”

You hum in response and reluctantly blink your eyes open. His face swims into view and you realize he's closer than before. Now only a few inches separate you from him.

“Sorry… um, I'm cold. Can… can I...?” He hesitates, leaving the question unfinished as his eyes search your face.

His breath ghosts your cheek and you freeze, trying to keep your breathing even as your body stiffens.

“Yeah,” you murmur, trying to sound nonchalant. “Yeah, of course.”

A flash of relief fills his face before he moves even closer to you. He lays next to you, resting his head on your collarbone and draping one arm over your waist carefully. You hold your breath.

“Is this alright?” he mumbles.

You’re not sure if you can speak without sounding like a goddamn idiot, so you just nod in reply.

He buries his head in the crook of your neck and you have to remind yourself that it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just Felix being Felix: the most physically clingy person on Earth. Also your best friend who you definitely do not have untoward feelings for.

That would be really, really bad.

Especially in a situation like this, where Felix’s nose is pressed in your neck, and his arm is around your waist, his leg tangled with yours at some point and his hair is tickling your chin. He’s everywhere. It's entirely overwhelming.

And he's so warm. You didn't even realize you were cold until he pressed against you. Warmth seeps deep into your bones as he sighs and pulls your body further against his. It's cozy and familiar and you try to focus on the comfort of the action instead of the way your heart is hammering in your chest.

It’s quiet for a few moments as he settles against you and you try to relax, waiting for the rise and fall of his chest to even out beside you, signaling he’s fallen asleep.

Instead, he shifts and you feel his lips brush against your neck, his breath fanning over your skin. Oh.

“Hey,” he murmurs in that low, low voice of his that only really comes out when he's sleepy. “Hey, I… um.” 

You can feel the vibrations from his voice against your neck as he speaks. Oh. You’ve definitely thought about this in a much different context before.

He’s silent for a moment as if collecting his thoughts. But he just sighs, pulling his head away slightly. “Nevermind… Um, good night.”

“Night,” you manage weakly.

It’s silent again. The only sounds that fill the room are the incessant beating of raindrops against the windows and Felix's soft breathing by your ear, drowning out the occasional faint rumble of thunder.

—

You wake to the sound of groaning.

Unsticking your eyelids, you attempt to get a look at your surroundings. It’s still dark, but the room slowly comes into focus as you blink slowly, trying to discern what woke you up. 

The first thing you notice is that it's warm. Hot, even. The air is thick and heavy in your lungs and there's a warm weight pressed against you.

It takes a few moments before you become aware of your current predicament — Right, you're at Felix's place, sleeping in his bed. His body is completely pressed against yours, his chest to your back, his head nuzzled in the nook of your neck. You’re practically spooning. There’s a leg thrown over yours and an arm wrapped snugly around your middle, making it virtually impossible to move.

And — it's not that unusual. It's not far off from the position you fell asleep in and Felix's clinginess is really quite endearing, even if your fragile heart can't handle it anymore. No, what's unusual are the sounds coming from him.

He’s making small noises as he fidgets against you, like he's in pain. He's probably having a bad dream. You start to turn over in order to wake him up, but his grip on you tightens and his breath hitches and—

You freeze.

That was definitely not the sound of someone having a nightmare. 

It was more like… like… Quiet, soft, and breathless; little sounds caught in his throat that spill into your ear.

And if that wasn’t bad enough, his body is moving — restless, shifting against you. His hips moving minutely. It takes your sleepy mind a second to put it all together.

Holy… Holy shit. Is he…?

You're suddenly very awake, fogginess replaced by a white hot rush of panic and disbelief.

He’s— Oh no.

Felix is asleep. He's definitely sleeping but— He must be… having some sort of… dream and… What the fuck are you supposed to do? Wake him up? Absolutely not. You literally— You'd rather die than face him like this. Not to mention how mortifying it would be for both of you. You would actually rather choose death.

He twitches slightly, his hips pushing up against your body. A low groan leaves him as he pulls you closer, completely against his body now, the thin material of his clothes doing nothing to hide his—

You squeeze your eyes shut. Oh my god you are going to die right now. You're seriously going to pass away for real this time. This— this is—

“Mmmn…” he moans, low and needy and right by your ear and wow, that’s… wow.

You have to be dreaming… this is just some very fucked up dream, the sane part of you implores. The rest of you is ignited in flames. 

It's not a dream.

Another little sound slips out and he presses even closer to you, his body flush against yours, like he’s trying to get as much contact as possible. His hips move against yours with a subtle roll and you feel shameful sparks of heat pooling in your gut.

This is so bad. This is so, so bad, fuck. Fuck.

He’s grinding against you in tiny movements, little gasps and moans escaping out of his mouth every few seconds and your entire body is burning. His arm is tight around your waist, his whole body pressed flush against your back. You don’t even dare to breathe as he rocks his hips forward ever so slightly, his nose nuzzling your neck as he lets out a soft whine. It takes everything you have to keep your own whimper at bay, suddenly desperate to grind back against him but— Christ. Are you insane?

You’re frozen. You’re not supposed to be here, you’re not supposed to be feeling this, you really should wake him up, this is so wrong, yet you’re still frozen like an idiot. You can't think. Your brain is made of cherry slushy. The heat death of the universe is imminent. 

Your mind is completely blank but your body is overstimulated and you’re just trying your best to figure out how not to die in this situation. Not easy when Felix is moaning into your neck and it sounds so good and he’s shifting and his body is impossibly warm and he’s—

His breath stutters abruptly in the midst of a long moan and he goes completely still around you. All you hear is heavy breathing for a few moments.

Shit, shit, shit. Is he awake? You're caught between relief and something like disappointment but aren't left enough time to dwell on that thought before you hear a shaky whispered, “F-Fuck.”

You hold your breath. 

Your heartbeat is ringing in your ears, body buzzing with tension, but you do your best to stay completely still. The air is so thick. You almost can’t believe what just happened, but the evidence is pressing into your back as Felix lets out another quiet swear.

His grip on you tenses for a moment before releasing you entirely. He untangles himself from you and pulls his body away from yours so suddenly that you nearly think you hallucinated the whole thing. 

His breathing is ragged and you don’t dare move a muscle. You keep your back resolutely facing him, try to relax, and you are asleep. You are asleep. You are asleep. You repeat it like a mantra. 

You don’t know if he believes your act, your eyes pressed shut, as you try to keep your breaths even and slow.

The sheets rustle a bit. You stay motionless, heart pounding in your ears. He’s sitting up now, you can feel the weight shifting beside you. It’s completely silent for a few seconds before he whispers your name in question.

You are asleep. You are asleep. You are asleep. You pray he believes it.

“...Thank god,” he breathes. You hear more rustling, sheets moving, and he's getting up.

Only when you hear the door shut do you allow yourself to breathe, wondering how the hell you made it out of that situation alive. What the fuck. 

Like, what the fuck.

You stare at the wall in shock, eyes wide and heart hammering hard in your chest.

He doesn’t know you were awake. You’re alive. You survived.

You bury your face in the pillow and try to collect yourself, shaking slightly in the aftermath of whatever the hell just happened. The heat of his body is still surrounding you, his presence lingering on your skin and you can’t help the traitorous part of your brain that wishes for him to crawl back into the bed and hold you again. That wishes you were brave enough to do something other than lie there.

You push the thought away with a quiet groan. You can’t think about that. You can’t. You're barely holding onto the last threads of your sanity as it is. 

But you can’t fall back asleep.

Of course you can’t. After what just happened, your brain will probably never be fully operational again. You press your hands to your face and let out a pathetic whine, wondering if it's possible to die of embarrassment. You're sure this is what a heart attack feels like. It's a wonder you're still breathing. 

This is so much worse than last time, when you got too into practicing. At least that was mutually agreed on and Felix made light of it pretty easily. But this? How are you supposed to act normal after this? That wasn't supposed to happen. You weren't supposed to know what it feels like to have his body up against yours, to hear him moaning in your ear. And you pretended to be asleep instead of stopping him. So he doesn't even know… It's so wrong on so many levels.

You sigh. Felix doesn't know you were awake, so he doesn't know you know and maybe, maybe you can get away with pretending it didn't happen. You'll have to play it cool, of course. Or even better, you can forget about this entirely, convince yourself it was all a fever dream.

Maybe.

—

a/n: AHHH. so it really wasnt meant to be a cliffhanger here lol but then i ended up splitting it so... sorry. the next (and final for REALL THIS TIME) part will be out very soon! nothing like the 3 month long wait for this (ty SO MUCH for ur patience) andd yeah! i hope this is at least somewhat living up to expectations so far, tysm for reading!!

[lixie-phoria]

summer sun forever (stray kids comforting their 9th member!reader)

pairing : platonic stray kids x fem!9th member reader

requested : yes

warnings - mentions of blood, description of poor parenting (lmk if i've missed any!)

genre - angst to comfort

jeongin thought it was normal, the way you would sit alone during group discussions giving your input only when asked directly.

seungmin though it was a habit, the way you would immediately pinch yourself if you made a mistake.

felix thought it was out of good nature that you would constantly appreciate his sunshine-like personality and inability to be mad for longer than a few moments.

han thought it was adorable, the way you would cover your smile while laughing at one of his jokes, trying to hold back any laugh that was louder than a giggle.

hyunjin thought it was just your strive for perfection that you would spend hours more than the other boys trying to perfect your choreographies, scared to mess up.

changbin thought it was a personal preference, the way you'd always dress up in lose clothing, rejecting anything that was too fitting.

lee know thought it was impressive, the way you could recognize any member just from his footsteps approaching your room or the way you always left one ear uncovered when using headphones.

but chan knew. or he thought he did, at least. maybe it was brotherly instincts kicking in, but he knew these habits weren't healthy. far from it. it concerned him, but he didn't know how to approach you either.

his concerns were triggered for the first time when you dropped a glass at the dorms, sharp shards scattering everywhere. you didn't notice him rush to help you as he stopped dead in the doorway of the kitchen, watching you pick up the broken pieces with bare hands. he saw the way your hands were trembling and how a particularly tricky piece sliced right through your skin, blood oozing out. you didn't even flinch, sparing the cut a small glance before you went back to cleaning the floor. you didn't bother trying to disinfect it, opting to only run it under the tap and wiping it away with a few tissues. then you crumpled them up, making sure the members wouldn't notice the red on the paper and went about your day as usual. chan waited, patiently, expecting you to bring up the injury to anyone, but you didn't, so he thought maybe it was just a small cut. maybe it was just a small wound, after all.

you would tell them if you were really hurt, right?

the second time chan notices something wrong is when you hit your upper arm at the edge of the table during dinner. it had hurt, that much he knew from the way you yelped and rubbed the sore spot. he had laughed at your clumsiness with the others as you smiled sheepishly, ducking your head and running away to your room to do who knows what. he thought he saw tears in your eyes, but you didn't mention the bruise again, so they all thought you were okay.

but chan's breaking point was when stays themselves noticed something was wrong. he was scrolling through instagram when a particular reel caught his attention. it was of their dance performance, and the fan had zoomed into your figure - specifically your upper arm - and the large reddish blue spot was so strikingly evident it took him three rewatches to make sure it was not an edit. how had any of them missed it? then another reel came up, and it was you wincing slightly as lee know jokingly shook your hand, the same one you had cut while cleaning the glass. and it's like the pieces immediately fall into place.

chan doesn't think twice. before he knows it he's out of his room and walking (more like storming) towards yours, and he doesn't bother knocking. but even then, you had been expecting him, because you're staring at the door with a small smile on your face.

"i heard you coming. is everything ok?"

it's the first time your keen observation skills concern him, but he doesn't answer, instead striding towards you and lifting your arm despite your complaints. when his eyes zero-in on the bruise that you had expertly been concealing, he sees red. he isn't sure why he's angry. it's not your fault. but he is mad, and he couldn't control it.

of course you could see it on his face, and it's like you go into auto pilot mode, snatching your arm back and immediately apologizing, making excuses that fly straight out of his ears. he tries to hold back, he really does, but he can't. and before he can stop, the damage is done.

"don't bother. you clearly don't trust us enough anymore."

in hindsight, that was probably the worst thing chan could have said to you. blaming you would only worsen things, but he's so confused and disappointed in himself. he didn't know what kept you on the edge so often, and it hurt him that you wouldn't open up.

and thus the apparent cold war began.

you weren't mad. no. far from that. you were terrified. you had disappointed chan, the one person who made you feel safe always. the one person you knew you could go to with anything. but you chose not to, and now maybe you never will be able to. and it was like you were a teenager again, crying yourself to sleep every night, cautious of every word you spoke, and jumping at the slightest raised voice.

chan wasn't mad either. he was confused. he was hurt, a little bit. and he regretted the words he had carelessly spat out. it clearly hadn't been the right approach and now it hurt him to see the way you would tense whenever he stepped into the room, not making eye-contact and apologizing profusely to everybody for the smallest mistakes.

he thought giving you space was the best option for now. but in hindsight, that was a terrible decision too. he didn't realize how angry he was coming off as. he didn't know that not just you but all the members thought he was giving you the silent treatment. and for you, that hit too close to home. literally.

"ynnie, do you want some more soup?"

felix is met with a timid yes as he happily pours you another serving. but even his bubbly smile couldn't diffuse the obvious tension in the atmosphere. the other 7 didn't know the details of what had happened. chan knew you would want to tell them yourself if you told them at all, but they knew it was bad. because now you barely smiled and chan always seemed tense.

"and salt?"

again, you only nod, reaching towards the jar he was offering, when it happens. all of a sudden. jeongin's arm brushes yours, and as his elbow pushes into your bruise, you yelp, the lid falling to the floor with a loud shattering sound.

the silence that follows immediately after is loud, and everyone notices the way you go completely still. unnaturally still, as though waiting for someone to yell at you. lee know recovers first, and as he bends down to pick up the fallen object, you flinch, and their hearts collectively shatter.

what was the matter with you lately?

before they know it, you're gulping the steaming hot soup down, hurriedly apologizing and making a bee line for your room. but this time, everyone can see the tears brimming your waterline.

nobody gets up, but nobody eats anymore either. the silence only intensifies until chan groans, burring his face in his hands.

"hey lix, you mind checking up on her? i don't think she's doing very well."

the blonde boy doesn't need to be told twice. he's making his way towards your room and when he enters, the floor slides from beneath him. you're curled up in your bed, trying to muffle your sobs that wrack through your body.

when you see him come in, your first instinct is to hide. to not show. but it's too late, because he's rushing towards you, embracing you in the warmest hug. its comforting, in a way you have never felt before, and that only spirals your break down further.

felix doesn't know what to do or say. he doesn't know what happened. he doesn't know what could make you feel better, but it's so incredibly heart breaking the way you curl up into yourself as though trying to reject any help that it brings tears into his own eyes.

it isn't long before the others come following, and when chan sees you it's like a part of him dies. you look so small, so hurt, so breakable. and deep down, he knows this could have been avoided if he'd thought twice before lashing out at you.

"yn."

his voice is soft, and when you notice him you're scrambling out of felix's grasp, and he almost thinks you're trying to get way from him. but then you're throwing yourself into his arms with apologies tumbling out along with your sobs. he tries to calm you down, running a hand through your hair, but you're inconsolable. they have never seen you cry like this before.

"calm down, angel. please. talk to me."

it's the first time chan has spoken to you in more than a week, and you hadn't realized how much you had missed it. how much his silence had been affecting you.

"please don't be mad at me." you whimper as chan guides you sit on your bed, the other 7 hovering around unsure of what to do but concern reflecting in each of their eyes.

"mad? i'm not mad, ynnie. i'm concerned."

his words come as a shock.

he's concerned?

"but i'm crying."

"that's exactly why i'm concerned."

"oh."

you've never heard these words before. you never thought you would. growing up, showing emotions was a big no. crying was almost a taboo. showing emotions was for the weak, as your parents would say. they didn't wish to raise a weak daughter. nobody ever showed you concern. it was either anger or silence.

you've run out of tears, but dry sobs still shake your body every few seconds as chan holds you closer, motioning for the rest to sit down.

"do you want to talk about it?"

you shake your head. no. you were bad at talking about your feelings. they didn't have to know. it's not that important.

"you have to open up at some point, yn."

"i don't want to burden you guys."

"burden us?"

even seungmin, who usually stays expressionless during conflicts, seems appalled.

"yn, your emotions are not a burden."

"that's not what mum used to say."

you didn't mean to say it out loud, but it slips from your mouth and they all seem to have heard it.

chan's grip on you tightens. none of them knew much about your family. you didn't like talking about it. now it was slowly coming to them exactly why this preference could be.

"you can trust us, you know? we want to be there for you."

"i do trust you."

"then why won't you tell us what's wrong."

"don't want to annoy you any further."

the guilt gnaws at chan as felix pulls you away from his grasp, snuggling you into his side.

"yn, i wasn't mad. i was trying to give you space."

"i thought you were ignoring me." and in a smaller voice you reluctantly add "like my parents used to. everytime they were mad."

even han is somewhat misty eyed as felix runs calming circles against your upper arm.

"we would never give you the silent treatment."

"yeah! we love you way too much for that."

"is that why you're so closed off?"

"changbin! you can't just ask her that."

you giggle tiredly, earning a small smile from chan.

"it's alright. i'm glad you asked binnie. i think i'm ready to tell you guys."

they're all attentively waiting, and you shift uncomfortably. you never thought you would have this conversation.

"growing up, my parents didn't encourage me to express myself very much. i wasn't allowed to make mistakes, and if i did, they would give me the silent treatment for days on end. i hated it."

your voice is so small and fragile it breaks their hearts a little more.

"i've gone weeks trying to get my mother to speak to me normally. to act like she cared. but she'd always be so cold, insistent on punishing me for every little thing."

"and-" your voice broke, making hyunjin join felix in smothering you with cuddles.

"take your time, yn."

you hum, closing your eyes to stop the fresh wave of tears.

"and when chan stopped talking to me, i felt terrible. i thought i disappointed him too."

there was no more place, but chan joins the tangle of you, felix, and hyunjin as well, rubbing a soothing hand on your back.

"i'm so sorry i made you feel that way ynnie. i had no idea."

"it's not your fault," you admit, leaning into his chest.

"are we good now?"

"i hope so."

chan lets out that breathy laugh of his which you've grown to love over the years.

"don't ever hide your feelings from us, ynnie. you're a part of us. we don't want to see you hurting."

felix bops your nose as you smile, and it's all so corny and sweet, but it's also exactly what you need.

"now can we please have a movie night?"

"yah! jeongin. give her some time."

"no no, i'd actually love that. please?"

they're all ready to do whatever you want. it warms your heart and you almost cry again. nobody ever did this for you. you learned to think you didn't deserve it.

but here these 8 boys were, scrambling around trying to a build you a pillow fort and searching the shelves for snacks, yelling at each other across the house.

and as you're sitting there, you think that this could be your favorite site. they could be your favorite people. this could be your favorite memory. this feeling of being at home could be your favorite forever.

©lixie-phoria, 2023 taglist : @foxinnie8 @hamburgers101 @starlostlaiba @jiisungllvr (send an ask to be added/removed)

[lixies-favorite-cookie]

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭?!・l.f.

—Even after your bodyguard saved your life you insist that you don't need his help, maybe you feel a little different after he drops his weapon in the middle of a fight—and forces you to admit you need him.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠・lee felix x fem!reader // 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐬・action, fluff, crack, enemies to lovers // 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬・cursing, death of bad guys, blood, cursing, guns, knives, felix being a little shit, did i mention cursing?? (its my mother tongue)

𝐚/𝐧・BOO BITCHES!! haha i'm back after being gone for a... month...yeah...sorry. this is just something silly i had originally planned to put into my bodyguard!lix fic, but i ended up changing the plot so i can no longer (maybe) use it, though i loved it so much i just decided to post it :)) alsoooo does anyone want to be tagged in bodyguard!lix fic??

How the fuck did you manage to get yourself into this situation? Is all you can think of as the room swarms with men, all armed with various weapons, effectively backing yourselves into a corner.

Well, shit.

The walls are cold and hard as you fight your way to the door, driving your throwing knives into any vulnerable place your enemy shows. Men are falling all around you both by your hands and Felix's. It's all a blur—arrows wizz by your neck, mallets swinging around your head.

"Watch out!" Felix shouts. He places his hands around your waist. You are in the air before you can even blink. An arrow hits the cracked cobblestone where your forehead would have been.

Holy shit.

"Thank you," you throw over your shoulder, yanking the arrow out of the wall, launching it into the final man's chest fumbling with his bow right before he collapses. "But I didn't need your help."

Felix barks out an incredulous laugh, pressing his tongue into his cheek. Momentarily he is baffled before something else passes over his expression.

"Fine," he rests his back against the wall, dropping his bloody knife onto the floor, much to your horror.

"Felix, what the fuck—" you don't even get to complete the sentence before another man is sprinting towards you, appearing from the entryway red-eyed and vengeful, fueled by the death of all his comrades. You launch a knife at his jugular. He crumples like a rag doll.

"Felix, pick the knife up," you shout frantically, watching as six more men swarm into the hallway charging toward you. They really don't seem to like you. You move to pull more knives out of your seethe only to find you have four left.

"Felix, this isn't funny, pick the fucking knife up," you demand, far too afraid to be ashamed about the slight trembling in your tone. You send him a look over your shoulder, their stomping growing closer, too close, way, way too close.

"Are you going to admit you need my help?" Felix's obnoxiously smug voice sounds from behind you, practically tasting the smirk in his voice. You grit your teeth so hard they feel like they are going to fall off, but the steps grow louder, too loud.

"I need your help." The words taste so foul in your mouth you almost want to throw the "I hate you" that follows right back up. He smiles, back to his happy, cheery, you-want-to-smack-him-in-the-face-so-bad self.

"Atta girl," he purrs. "Now duck."

You obey.

Two guys breach the entrance, announcing their presence with a deafening battle cry. In one swift motion, Felix pulls a gun from thin fucking air and levels it with their heads. Taking in the mountains of dead bodies, they choose to listen to the barrel of his gun, halting instantly.

"Do you mind? The adults are talking," he chastizes, rolling his eyes as though he is talking to a petulant toddler instead of four knife-wielding guards.

"Where the hell did you get that?" you gasp, pointing to the that in question. He tilts his head, a slow, serpentine smile spreading across his lips. "Oh, this thing?" he flashes it in the light. "I got it from the guard at the gate." You're going to kill him. You're going to take this knife and shove it straight through his stupid, stupid head.

"You've had a gun this entire time?" You seethe, your eye twitching. For a moment, you're so pissed you completely forget about the men awkwardly waiting by the door two seconds away from sprinting.

"I thought you said you didn't need any help," Felix smirks.

"And you chose now to hold me up to my word."

In some half-baked plan to escape, the group charges forward, not before Felix pulls the trigger, shooting all four members square in the forehead—all without ever leaving your gaze. He rolls his eyes, shooting you a look like, 'Do these guys ever learn?' Then, as if nothing ever happened, he says,

"You seemed very adamant."

You were going to punch him, really, truly, you were going to put your fist through his annoyingly beautiful face. Instead, you yank the gun from his hands, clicking the safety and sliding it into the belt of your pants. He doesn't complain as you drag him out of the room, stepping over thick puddles of blood and tangled limbs, cringing slightly as red stains the bottom of your shoe. You wipe it on the floor when you step into the hallway, tiptoeing down the corner.

Somewhere in the distance, murmurs of voices catch your attention. Hiding behind a corner, the shadows cloak you, protecting you from unwanted eyes. The voices loom closer, almost close enough—in complete silence, you could make out the words.

"Hey love, your shoe's untied," Felix speaks from behind you, so loud you spin around, pressing a finger onto his lips in a rush, slowly realizing what little distance is left between you. He smiles against your finger, bringing his tongue to lick a fat stripe up the skin. You fight back a disgusted shriek, instead resorting to a harsh glare and a defiant middle finger.

"I really, truly, to the deepest depths of my soul, hate you," you say, wiping the saliva off your skin.

"Yeah, yeah, save it for the bedroom."

Tonight was going to be a long night.

cookie owns this

[qpidkitea]

TRANQUILITY

FARLEIGH START X FEM! READER

PRÉCIS: AU where Oliver is caught before he fully takes over Saltburn, Felix is still dead, and obviously Farleigh is completely torn and in need of comfort at the loss of his best friend and cousin, takes place after the curtain scene

WARNING: Angsty, cursing, mentions of death, cheek kisses, descriptions of a dead body, so much crying, comfort.

Nothing could've prepared you for today. Nothing could've prepared you for the horrified scream of Elspeth that's still ringing in your ears after the finding of Felix's dead body. His face was blue and swollen, a white, foamy, dried substance cascading down his cheek. His wings from his costume were bent and dirtied as he lay face down on the floor. The police discovered Oliver and his schemes almost immediately. They found the discarded powdered poison laying just a few yards away from the crime scene in the maze. His fingerprints were all over it.

Lunch was unbearable. After watching Oliver being pulled away from the mansion in handcuffs, everyone, especially Farleigh, was excused, his previous claims of drug use dismissed. Silent tears streamed down almost everyone's faces. Venetia almost looked dead. She was surely high on some type of pills, her mascara horribly smudged on her pale face. You wanted to help her, but you feared that if you touched her, she would crumble under your touch completely. Farleigh was shaking horribly, trembling with the effort of trying to keep his breakdown at bay, but tears still found their way down his face.

You sat silently beside Farleigh, holding and squeezing his hand underneath the table, staring down at the soon-to-be cold Shepards Pie on the table in front of you. Elspeth clears her throat, and you look up. She smiles at you, lifting her wineglass and taking an almost dangerous gulp of wine. She sets down the glass, the sound of it being painfully loud because of the quietness of the entire place, the only other sounds being small sniffles, and the sound of Jame's fork and knife cutting into his meal.

"Y/N darling?" Elspeth's voice startles you, sucking you out of the silence of your own head.

"Yes?" You didn't know what she could've possibly asked you at the moment. Your thoughts bounced off the walls of your head, wondering if she would ask you anything about Oliver. Maybe a question about if you noticed any of this behavior at school, or while he lived here..

"Did you enjoy the party?" Farleigh chuckles slightly, squeezing your hand impossibly tight. He shook his head in utter disbelief at her question.

Before you could answer, Duncan enters the room quietly, leaning down next to Sir James, who looks completely unfazed but yet mortified. Duncan then whispers in James' ear, something about closing the curtains in case the coroner passes the window of the room that you all sat in.

"Yes. Thank you. Close them."

Duncan closes the curtains smoothly, the room becoming an almost evil looking red as they close. There was one area left of the room that still shun with the beautiful light of the morning, and you can't help but think how the day would be perfect for laying in the tall grass fields underneath the warm sun, ignoring the cold breeze that would pass you. Duncan takes a few steps to close the last curtain, only to struggle horribly. Something must've been caught. His efforts became more aggressive, especially after noticing the coroner walking closer to the window. Sir James became more aggravated at each tug of the curtain.

"Duncan, just get them closed, for Christ's sake!" Sir James yells and angrily lets his fists slam against the table, and it makes everyone in the room jump.

"Yes, I am trying, sir. I can’t-" Duncan gives the curtain a final yank, and the room is plunged into the same red darkness. As if on cue, the sound of the gurney that held Felix's body rolled on the gravel, complete with the ambulance doors shutting harshly. That seemed to be Farleigh's final straw. He stands up abruptly, still holding your hand, which yanks your arm, forcing you to stand up with him. As Farleigh walks away, you walk with him quietly, ignoring the protested yells of Sir James. He walks quickly, still shaking, with tears flowing down his face.

Even though Farleigh was walking incredibly fast, it seems the walk was longer than usual, his long legs working overtime as he walks the enormous expanse of the mansion.

"Farleigh... slow down please'm gonna fall-" You were tripping on your own two feet, whisking down hallways and turning the curves of the wall way too fast to even register you were turning them.

"Shut up"

You weren't trying to submit to him, nor show your weakness, but you knew he was frustrated, so you shut your mouth. Farleigh loved the feeling of control, especially after feeling like he had none recently. As you reach Farleigh's room, you immediately noticed the white powder spread across in a thin line across the brown wooden desk in his room. You take your hand away from his, pushing the door closed gently. As the door closes behind you, Farleigh breaks down, not even making it to his bed before his knees give out. Sobbing quietly with his back turned and his arm and head resting on the edge of the messy, unmade bed, his body jumping with every try to catch his breath.

You walk quickly to him, crouching down next to him, not worried about your skirt riding up, not around him. Rubbing your hand up and down his back, you gave him a minute to let it all out, to let all the tears out that couldn't be let out in the somewhat hostile situation of lunch.

"Farleigh..." Before you knew it, five minutes passed, and it seemed as if Farleigh's cries weren't faltering, still crying and sniffing at the intensity that he was when he started.

"Farleigh, darling please, breathe for me." He breathe's in wildly, his breath was so shaky, you thought that if he tried to breathe in properly, his lungs would explode. He finally lifts his head up, his face extremely red from crying and the lack of a proper breath. You cup his wet face in your hands, rubbing your thumbs across his cheeks, drying them as you do.

Instead of words, you do. You breathe in deeply, and Farleigh mocks you shakily, but he still does. You hold your breath for a minute before exhaling. With each inhale you take, he mirrors your breath again, and again, and again, until he returns to normal breathing.

You pull the wreck of a boy into a tight hug. He doesn't hug you back, but you don't mind. Pulling back, you kiss his cheeks and then his forehead, which seems to calm him down all together. A hiccup is heard coming from him and you can't help but giggle. The poor boy cried too hard to the point of hiccups.

"Thank you" Farleigh looks into your eyes as he says this, words sounding strange from the swelling of his sinuses and vocal cords. He looks down at his lap, sighing harshly before leaning his head against his bed, feeling his neck dampen from his own tears that stained the sheets.

"Here, let me get you a cold cloth." You stand up, traveling down the hall to the cold bathroom. It was a chilly day at Saltburn. You open the small closet next to the door, opening it to reveal a stack of purple, white, and beige washcloths. You grab a purple one and walk to the sink. As you turn on the sink, you run your fingers underneath the cold water, your fingers going numb as the water turns colder. You place the rag under the running water, letting it completely soak, the color of the cloth becoming a deep purple.

You turn off the water and squeeze the rag of the remaining water, unfolding it and letting it swing in the air, letting the chilly air make the rag colder. As you walk back down the hall, you were happy to hear silence. Happy to hear that Farleigh hadn't cried again. You walk into the doorway and see Farleigh still where you left him, with his head leaning back on the bed. You sit down next to him on your knees. The hardwood floors hurt, but it was all worth it for your sweet boy.

Placing a cool wet rag on his hot face felt like heaven for Farleigh. He sighed deeply as you pressed the rag to his face. You couldn't see his face, but you could tell he was smiling. His face cooled down quickly, and he soon exhaled harshly because of restricted air flow coming through his covered face. He was okay. And you were glad he was okay.

"What the fuck would I do without you?" His words come out muffled, nasally, and strained, but you still heard him. You pull the rag off his face and gently kiss his cheek for the third time.

"Probably suffer"

[skzdarlings]

bodyguard: the first guard | part two | chan/reader

masterlist.

(part one of the previous story.)

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | tba

( read on AO3 )

A sequel to the Bodyguard. Miroh's daughter is assigned a bodyguard of her own. The past is confronted when old friendships and new enemies are pushed to the brink.

pairing: bang chan/reader content info: sequel to the bodyguard (felix/reader). this is a new reader perspective. the previously established story dyanmics: explicit violence, mentions of torture, death. chapter word count: 12,000 words.

-

B E F O R E

Felix is wearing itchy civilian clothes, the jeans distractingly stiff.  Regardless of how many field missions he is assigned, he never gets used to undercover disguises.     

“Look what I found,” Chris says, dropping into the seat beside him. 

Chris looks marginally more at ease in his baggy basketball shorts and baseball cap, passing for a teenage boy on an afternoon train with his friend.  They are in the passenger car outside the first class cabin, a compartment that should contain their mark but presently sits empty. 

“Uh, the target?" Felix asks.  “You know, the thing you just went to find?”

Chris giggles like the whole situation is funny.  Felix is far less amused.  This should have been an easy job: get in, kill the mark, steal back the data he took from Miroh, and get out.  But so far it has been tedious. 

Felix can’t even blame Chris this time.  For some reason, Chris has been more accommodating lately.  Chris is fifteen, almost sixteen, and Felix is twelve.  They have both been active in the field for a couple years. Felix is not sure why Chris has opted for sudden compliance.  He does not necessarily volunteer for jobs but he accepts them without much grudging reluctance.  He will occasionally voice his worser grievances but for the most part he is keeping his head down. 

Maybe it is the result of all those punishing sentences in the Cell.  More than once he has been shoved down there, sometimes alone and sometimes with Miroh’s daughter.  Felix would not want to spend any isolated time with her.  But maybe she is intimidating enough to get through to Chris.

Whatever it is, it is working.  Excluding moments like this when Chris is giggling and distracted and doesn’t seem to care about the job at all. 

“Relax, Felix,” Chris says.  “It’s a train.  There’s only so many places he can be, yeah?”

“Well, there’s one place he’s supposed to be but he isn’t there, is he?” Felix says.

“Lighten up, mate,” Chris says.  “We’re supposed to look normal.  Normal kids have fun.”

Chris dumps a candy bag in Felix’s lap.  Felix looks at it like it’s a bomb.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” Felix asks.

Chris opens his own bag and starts eating the candy. 

“That,” he says.  He tosses a piece in the air and catches it in his mouth. When he tries to do it again, Felix snatches it mid-air and throws it on the floor.  This makes Chris laugh.

“He was in the dining car,” Chris relents.  “Four security officers.  Ex-military.  Piece of cake.”

“Why didn’t you say that before?” Felix asks, annoyed.  He starts to stand but Chris yanks him back into his seat. 

“The hell, man?” Chris says.  “You gonna go ventilate the guy while a bunch of civilians are having afternoon tea?  Ya think that might blow our cover?  Just a bit?” 

Felix frowns but he knows Chris is right.  Miroh does not like a public mess.  They will have to wait until the mark returns to the privacy of his cabin.

Felix does not like waiting.  It is a part of a soldier’s training, but his least favourite part by far.  He prefers action.  With the quiet stillness comes fear, doubt.

The latter makes him sweat.  He tries not to think about it.  His life is his mission.  Through Miroh, Felix has contributed good things to the world.  Lately, it just seems like no matter what he does, the world does not stay good. 

The Enemy has been dead for two years.  The new enemy, his idiot heir, has holed up like a dragon guarding his hoard.  He has built defences so high that not even an army like Miroh’s can breach it.  There has been no retaliation, no offensive strike like the old enemy, but these deep roots are almost more sinister.  Felix is starting to think this might be hopeless.  That maybe Miroh is wrong.  That maybe some things cannot be saved. 

Felix crinkles the candy bag in his lap.  He gathers himself and exhales. 

“Fine,” he says.  “How long do you think he will be distracted?  Enough time to get the data?”

“If it’s in there, yeah,” Chris says.  “Might as well check.  He just started eating so we should have some time.”

“Then what are we waiting for?”  

Chris frowns like Felix is inconveniencing him with the job they were sent here to do.  

Felix is not in the mood to argue.  He shoves his candy bag in his back pocket and pushes past Chris.  They make their way down the aisle.  No one lifts their head, the two boys disappearing in their inconspicuous disguises.

They pick the lock to the first class cabin.  Felix opens the door and looks around the room, for a moment a little stupefied by the luxury.  It is all deep mahogany and gold trim.  Their target is an engineer who stole designs from Miroh to sell to the enemy.  The wealth of this cabin exemplifies that corruption, surely. 

Felix tells himself that as he rifles through the luggage.  He finds a laptop and tells Chris to stand guard while he collects the data.  Chris is the better fighter but Felix is better with technology.

The laptop loads.  The home screen is the mark with his family, three smiling, sunny-faced children, all younger than Felix.  It gives him a queasy, uneasy feeling, a feeling that should be long scrubbed out of him by now.

He blames it on the rocking of the train carriage.  Physical sensations can manipulate mental energy. 

He searches through the computer storage for the stolen designs.  Both Miroh and the enemy are chasing government building contracts, tying their businesses irrevocably to political power and pursing relationships therein.  These plans will cinch the deal for whichever party has them.  The engineer who betrayed Miroh masqueraded as a potential recruit before stealing the plans.

There is only one problem; Felix knows how to read metadata and he cannot find anything that was once on Miroh’s servers.  In fact, some of these designs go back years, well before Miroh even considered pursuing these contracts.

“What’s taking so long?” Chris asks, poking his head in the room.  “You’re usually a computer whiz.  Is something wrong?”

“The files aren’t here,” Felix says.  For the fifth or sixth time, he opens what looks like the plans.  Everything except the metadata matches the description.  But that metadata does not lie.      

These files do not belong to Miroh. 

Chris double checks the corridor before joining Felix.  They look at the files together. 

“Isn’t that it?” Chris asks.  “It looks like the right thing.” 

“Yeah, but it’s not,” Felix says, his eyes darting frantically all over the screen.  “Or it should be.  But these, uh, these files aren’t Miroh’s.” 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean this guy stole the plans from Miroh.  But all these files are original.  They were never on Miroh’s servers.”

There is a moment of quiet.  Chris is not famous for reservation so Felix looks at him.  He is embarrassed to find a pitying look on Chris’s face. 

“Felix,” Chris says.  “Come on, man.”

It is not exactly a condescending tone, rife with too much sympathy to be so cruel, but It sounds like Chris is saying, don’t be stupid.

Felix swallows.  He looks down at the plans.  The realization hits him and the words come to his mouth, rising like bile.

“We’re not stealing back the plans,” Felix says.  “We’re just stealing them.  Aren’t we?”

“Well, yeah,” Chris says.  “You didn’t know that?”

“How did you know that?” Felix snaps back, embarrassed and upset and very, deeply confused.   

“It wasn’t exactly a stretch,” Chris says.  “It’s what Miroh does.  It’s what they all do.  You haven’t figured that out yet?  You?” 

Felix, who has done the most assignments.  Felix, who is the most successful agent in the special-ops program.  Felix, who is the best only because the real best refuses to be.

He studies Chris, this older boy who seems so confident he has all the answers.  Felix does not even know all the questions.  He feels that weakness and vulnerability he so hates, the entirely world suddenly unfamiliar enemy terrain. 

“Look, it’s fine,” Chris says.  “Just take the data and we’ll leave.  We’ll tell Miroh the mark got away.  He cares more about the plans anyway.”

“Lie,” Felix says.  “You want us to lie to Miroh?”

“It’s not a lie,” Chris says.  “It’s just protecting the truth.”

Felix stares at him.  Chris, on steadier feet than Felix, sighs and pushes Felix out of the way.  He loads the data onto the external hard drive himself.  He then makes a show of ejecting it and putting it in his pocket.

“Let’s go,” Chris says.

Felix does not get a chance to protest because the door opens.  They have no time to react.  In seconds, they are joined by the mark’s security team. 

Felix knows how to fight.  It is second nature to him.  He should not need to think.

But he does.  He overthinks.  He gets a look at the mark before a bodyguard whisks him away.  Felix thinks of the smiling faces on those children.  He thinks how he is not much older than them.

There is a growing pit of anxiety inside him.  It swallows him whole.

Felix and Chris fight to get away.  Chris could take all these guards on his own but he is trying to avoid severely hurting them.  That distracts Felix too.  Suddenly, Chris’s refusal to fight does not seem like cowardice but instead it is something Felix cannot name. Something he once saw in Miroh but doesn’t anymore. 

Distracted, Felix does not fight like he usually does. 

The first class cabin is a private attachment at the back of the train.  The fight lead onto the outside landing at the end of the car.  A guard dislocates Felix’s shoulder.  The next thing Felix knows, he is tumbling over the railing.  He manages to grip with his good arm, holding all of his body weight to avoid getting snagged and ripped along the train tracks. 

But it won’t save him.  He’s going to die. The realization hits him like any other calculation in a fight, when he measures his odds and deduces his best move.

He has none.  The train is moving too fast and he is at a bad angle to jump.  He has one good arm keeping him alive and no way to fight the approaching guard.  Chris has taken out his own adversaries and should be retreating with the data.  That is what they are trained to do.  The job is more important than the soldier.  In a crisis, you leave the weak behind. 

Felix braces himself to let go, hoping the above-average strength in his body can also withstand slamming into railroad tracks at high speeds.  He suspects even if he does survive, he will be severely injured, abandoned in the middle of nowhere, and dead to the only place he has ever known.

But the guard falls back. Chris knocks him out with sharp efficiency.  He then lays the unconscious man down with almost comical gentleness.

Chris runs up to Felix.  Felix wants to shout at him – everything from go away and finish the job to my shoulder hurts and I need you to save me. 

Chris gives no opportunity for argument or acquiescence.  He shouts, “Hold on!”  Then he swings himself over the railing.  He wraps an arm around Felix and hauls him into his side.  Once secure, he carries them back over the rail and onto the landing. 

“What are you doing?” Felix asks.  He cannot slow the race of his heart, seemingly tethered to the thunder of the train car against the tracks.  He is not sure it will ever slow again.  He thinks he might remember this moment forever.

“What am I doing?” Chris asks.  He laughs for some forsaken reason.  “Just doing this, mate,” he says.

He seizes Felix by his injured shoulder.  Felix winces, having only seconds to brace himself before Chris shoves his dislocated shoulder back into place.   Agony washes over Felix, hot and sharp, the pain rattling him worse than the actual dislocation.

“Sorry,” Chris says.  “Sometimes getting better hurts more for a bit.”

The rest of the mission is a blur to Felix, lost to the throbbing ache in his shoulder and a similar pain taking root inside him.

They make it back to Miroh’s facility.  Chris hands the hard drive off to an upper level agent while Felix sees a medic.  The bag of candy is still in his back pocket.  He sits in the infirmary a long time, just crinkling it between his fingers.  He feels like his world is crashing around him. 

It is days before Felix has an opportunity to see Chris again.  They are in different barracks because of their age difference, the soldiers grouped by year.  When Felix finds Chris in the corridor, Chris is talking to Miroh’s daughter who lives in the barracks too.  They are on their way to their bunks. 

Felix taps Chris on the shoulder.  Chris looks at him, his laughing expression faltering when he sees Felix.  He must see something in him that Felix cannot even recognize in himself. 

Chris turns to Miroh’s daughter and says, “I’ll catch up, yeah?”

She spares Felix a glance and Felix feels an unusually panicked skip in his blood.  It feels like she can see his mental turbulation the way Chris can.  But unlike the rest of them, she has a direct line to Miroh.  She might live and act like a soldier but she is more and always will be.  Felix balks under her scrutiny, worried she will see his doubt and report it right back to Miroh.

Felix is grateful when she leaves.  But when Chris looks at him so expectantly, Felix no longer knows what to say. 

It takes a moment.

“I wouldn’t have done the same for you,” Felix finally says.  It comes out as instinctively as a punch.  “I wouldn’t have saved your life.  I would have just finished the job.”

Chris blinks at him.  He exhales on a laugh.  Then he claps Felix’s good shoulder, a touch of clear camaraderie. 

“I know, Felix,” he says.  “I didn’t do it so you would pay me back.  I didn’t do it because I thought you would do the same.  I did it because it was the right thing to do.” 

Felix thought he was speechless before but now he is truly at a loss.  Even his long engrained instincts fail.  He is out of punches. 

Chris just smiles at his confusion.  With one final nod, he turns and retreats to his bunk. 

Felix stands in the corridor, wounded but bandaged.  He stares at the place where Chris stood, like if he looks long enough then Felix will understand what Chris understands.  That maybe there is a right and wrong outside of what they have been taught.  Maybe things exist outside of this place. 

Maybe some things can be saved. 

-

P R E S E N T   D A Y

“Ah, it’s the classic story,” Changbin says with a sigh.  “A boy and a girl, forced to share a bed.  He is her bodyguard.  She is an heiress.  Should we kiss on the lips?”

You whack him in the gut with a pillow and he erupts with giggles.

Changbin has been your so-called bodyguard for a few weeks now.  It has changed little in your daily routine as your father had assigned Changbin to your department sometime before that.  The special-ops program was written off as an experiment with potential for future development, though that development has long sat arrested.  Bang Chan is in your father’s direct employ while Changbin has been on different teams fulfilling different missions.  When you started taking the lead on projects, he served under your direction. 

It is why your father is not happy.  The bodyguard arrangement was meant to assert his control over you, using an agent as his eyes and hands.  Miroh is not good at relinquishing power, not even to someone like him, or maybe especially to someone like him.  You have always been a good, loyal, obedient soldier and daughter.  Taking over projects and assuming command was inevitable.  Somehow you have wronged him by doing everything right. 

Lately, your work has been meagre clean-up duty.  Miroh has been accruing assets and terrorizing his way into the mess left behind by his late enemy.   It is making Miroh’s paranoia even worse.   He has seen for himself how this powerful house fell apart just because its patriarch died.  The business was left in shambles, underlings squabbling like helpless children.  It was ripe for picking. 

You have been cleaning whatever mess is left behind.  This week you have been cleaning out some old office buildings, primarily sifting through abandoned storage for anything useful that might have been sequestered.  You are spending the night at a nearby safe house, sharing a room with Changbin.  The rest of your team is scattered around the house. 

Seeing as your father has relegated you with menial tasks, you have taken it upon yourself to conduct your own investigations.  Your findings have been on your mind all day.  It is why you do not respond to Changbin’s joking with your usual wit. 

“You’re quiet, murder princess,” Changbin says.  “Should I be worried?”

He drops his mask on the nearby desk then unholsters his gun.   He places it beside yours.  It is a testament to your dynamic that you feel comfortable disarming around each other.  You would certainly never do it around your father.  But Changbin is different.   You are not someone who seeks true friendship but you acknowledge the necessity of teamwork especially in times of crisis.  You do not fully trust Changbin as you do not fully trust anyone, but he is loyal and you reciprocate that dependability.

It is why you beckon him forward.  You are sitting on the bed, feet on the floor.  Changbin pulls up a chair to sit in front of you. 

“The enemy had a multi-level security system,” you say.  “Physical in some capacities, digital in others.  My father has always been more preoccupied with offense than defense, so in that regard they were always a step ahead of us.  That is the part my father is interested in.  That is all he sees.” 

“And what do you see?”  Changbin asks.  His disposition changes with the severity of your words, joviality replaced with equal seriousness. 

“I don’t see anything,” you say.  “That’s the problem.”

He lifts an eyebrow, curious.  You show him the image on your tablet, then swipe to the next one. 

“The security log is missing information,” you say.  “There is no trace of anything unusual transpiring the day they were all killed.  No breach, no shutdown.  Everything is normal until everything is gone. Someone scrubbed every last second of data from the digital system.  Someone who knew the system well enough to not just delete the surface files but to clean the server entirely.” 

“So what are you saying?” Changbin asks.  “You think it was an inside job?”

“I know it wasn’t us,” you reply.  “I know it wasn’t any of the usual players.  This family had enemies in every market.  If it was one of them, you’d think they would have stepped forward to assert themselves by now.  Whoever it was had no interest in taking over company assets.  No interest in even sticking around.  Someone went to great lengths to make the entire thing look ambiguous, to leave everyone asking more questions, to turn our heads in one direction while they disappear in the other.  Someone professional.  Someone technologically capable.  Someone whose only motivation was escape.” 

His jaw is clenched as he stares at the images, but you can see the gears turning in his mind.  When he meets your gaze, you sit forward.

“Changbin,” you say.  “What happened on that mission?”

He does not need specification.  Changbin is usually like you, pragmatic and realistic.  He does not dwell in his emotions and never for so long.  It has been well over a month now but he is still rankled by that warehouse confrontation with Lee Felix. 

“Ah, Yongbok,” Changbin says wistfully.  His eyes are downturned but his thoughts are somewhere else.  “You remember him.  He always needed a fairy tale to believe in.”    

That much is true.  You and Changbin have always been simple soldiers manoeuvring through the morally complicated world around you.  You never had any delusions that Miroh was better than his enemies, simply that one or the other was inevitable.  You knew you could make a bigger impact in the fight than watching from the sidelines. 

Felix was competent but naïve.  He believed in Miroh unequivocally which is why he blind-sided them all with his betrayal.  To this day, you do not know why he joined the enemy, nor why he stayed. 

It makes sense he might have naively devoted himself to a different cause. 

“What fairy tale was that?” you ask.  “The enemy?”

“Chris.”  Changbin looks at you beneath the sweep of his dark bangs.  His smile is wry.  “He asked me about Chris.” 

You blink back at him, surprised by the answer.  After stumbling over any number of replies, you say, “That wasn’t in your initial report.”

“It didn’t seem important,” Changbin says with a shrug.   

“You have a responsibility to report back everything—”

“Yes, commander,” he says dryly.  He slumps in his seat and crosses his arms.  “Does it matter now?  I told him Chris was dead.”

Not a lie, in a way.  Bang Chan was a rebellious subject in his youth, nothing like the merciless soldier he is now.  The inhuman machine was wrought through inhumane treatment.   You were not privy to the grittier details nor have you ever felt an inclination to investigate.  You do not need knowledge of the gruesome torture that was administered.   The results are the same: the rebellious boy died.  He has been gone ever since he was dragged into a basement room for correction. 

“Chris,” you say.  The name sits heavy on your tongue.  “Why would he want to know about Chris?”

“The better question is, why didn’t he want to know about me?” Changbin retorts.  It sounds like a joke, his tone jumping back into comically exaggerated hysterics.  But there is a tension in his shoulders that was not there before.  “You know he didn’t even recognize me?  Ah!  The little brat!  I knew him too!  I wasn’t Bang Chan, no one was … But I was there.  Forgetting me… We’re all that’s left!” 

You tilt your head and study Changbin, as if there are more answers in his face than in his words.  Your gaze drifts to the scar by his eye.   He got hit today, taking a swipe meant for you.  Other adversaries have sent agents to scour the late enemy’s business remains, but they are no match for soldiers of Miroh.  

Changbin joked he was being a good bodyguard.  In truth, he is a good bodyguard.  Your security team is competent but nothing compared to him.  It has made a difference, having someone so reliable at your back, even though it has painted a target on his.  Your father is not happy Changbin outsmarted him.  Changbin jokes about it, as he is wont to do, claiming he can’t wait for a pummelling of his own.  He is probably right.  Miroh has been quiet about the bodyguard assignment but that does not mean he has surrendered.  He is a strategist.  He is patient if it means results. 

Raising children into soldiers is a testament to that patience.  You look at Changbin, arguably the last true survivor other than yourself.

We’re all that’s left.  

You find yourself reaching for him.  It is not like you, but lately everything seems out of character.  You touch his face, drawn to that scar, a scar that should be yours.  You touch it very lightly. 

When you meet his eyes, he is looking at you strangely.  You are not a famously affectionate character, not even with him.  You rip your hand back and shake your head. 

“What’s wrong with you?” he asks, more curious than accusatory. 

“Nothing,” you say.  “I mean – well.”  You scrub a hand over your face.  The weeks have healed the worst of your injuries, but it is still littered with scars, including the ones Changbin gave you. 

His eyes linger there before he sighs and drops his head.  He rubs his face too. 

“We’ll talk later,” you say, suddenly feeling the weight of today, not to mention the accumulative exhaustion of the days before.  “It’s been a long day.”  An understatement.   

Changbin doesn’t argue.  You separate to use the facilities and dress down for rest.  You sleep in sweatpants and a t-shirt, your weapons and shoes not far.  The one bed has plenty of space.  You lay down first, certain that your mind is running too fast to rest, but all that exhaustion catches up to you. 

You wake some time in the middle of the night.  When Changbin gets out of bed, the dip and rise of the mattress stirs you.  You blink awake, watching him amble over to the window.  There is a cushioned seat and he plops down, his arms crossed and his eyes on the stars.

You wonder if you look that young out of combat clothes.  His hair is ruffled and the black t-shirt and pants are comfortably fitted.  His face looks vulnerable and open as he stares into the night. 

“You’re awake too,” he says, not looking at you. 

“Obviously,” you reply.  You push yourself upright.  “You woke me.”

“Sorry,” he says, trying to flash you one of his jovial grins but barely managing. 

“You look tired,” you say. 

“Thanks,” he replies with a laugh. 

“You should go back to sleep.”

“I’m on bodyguard duty,” he jokes, gesturing to you.  “I need to make sure no one murders the murder princess.” 

You give him a dry look that makes him giggle.  Naturally his humour returns at your expense.  He really is the little brother you never had. 

You slide off the bed and join him at the window seat.  You shove and kick like bickering children until you are comfortably settled.  You sit with your legs curled up to your chest, mirror images of each other.  He looks out the window and you look at him. 

“What are you thinking about?” you ask.   

“Nothing,” he says, an automatic response.  Then he shakes his head and sighs.  “I don’t know, princess,” he says.  “I don’t think you’ll understand.” 

“What makes you say that?” You cannot help but feel offended even if he is probably right.  You do not have heart-to-hearts, which is what this feels like, a quiet moment carved out of chaos.  If everything was different, you would just be two friends talking about your normal lives. 

Your life is anything but normal. 

“I know you,” he answers, simple and confident.  “I know who you are.  Even when – well, no matter what happens, I guess.”

“Well,” the words are out of your mouth before you can stop them, “that makes one of us.” 

You swallow your thoughts quickly.  Your innermost turmoil cannot be entrusted with anyone.  It is dangerous to even think such weakness, never mind vocalize it.

Changbin looks at you with a pinch in his brow.  You look away, up at the sky.  You wonder about the vantage from the stars, seeing the bigger picture of your life.  Your pain and sacrifices have to be worth something.  Miroh always said the world was full of shadows, dark spots no regular person could clean.  He was right about that.  He is definitely one of them, but sometimes only darkness can fight darkness.  Or so you thought.  All this business with the enemy has changed things.  That darkness collapsed in on itself like a black hole, taking everything with it. 

“It used to be easier, didn’t it?”  Changbin asks.  “Just doing what you’re told… You can tell yourself it’s not your fault, that it would have happened anyway… Maybe I was believing in fairy tales too.” 

You look at each other.  He just sighs. 

“A part of me feels like I never grew up,” he says.  “I’ve always been what I am.  Maybe it’s time to stop.” 

“That sounds a lot like treason,” you say, realizing how dramatic it sounds after the fact. Miroh is a businessman and this company is not a country.  And yet treasonous is what it feels like, a deep betrayal to the place that raised and shaped you into what you are.  It feels like treachery to even think about abandoning it after everything. 

“Maybe it does,” he says.  He gives you another wry smile, flicking his bangs out of his face.  “Does it matter?  He already wants my beautiful head off its beautiful shoulders.”

“You shouldn’t be saying this to me,” you say.  You’re Miroh’s daughter.  Your relationship with your father might be fraught, but your loyalty is to this house and always has been.  It is the only constant in this tumultuous, violent world. 

“Are you gonna tell on me?” Changbin teases, so unserious on such a deathly serious matter.  He just laughs at your silent but intense stare.  He shakes his head as he looks out the window.  “I don’t worry about that.”

“About what?”

“You telling on me.”

That stops your heart faster than the treason. 

“Why not?” you ask slowly, as if you are wary of a trap about to spring. 

Changbin puts a hand in his hair, shaking out his ruffled bangs.  He looks normal but also not, his strong body so clearly built for violence.    It is why you are shocked when he reaches out, when he touches you like you touched him, an undemanding press of his fingers along a scar.  

Your startled eyes find his.  It splits your focus.  You see Changbin right now, older, stronger.  You also see him younger, thinner, looking at you with concerned eyes as he wipes blood off your brow. 

You blink again and it is just him as he is now. 

He drops his hand. 

“You don’t trust anyone,” he says.  “I know.  Ha!  I really know.”  He swings around, planting his feet on the ground.  He reaches into his pocket then flicks open a pocketknife.

It should make your heart palpitate, a soldier with a weapon in your proximity, especially when you are unarmed.  But there is no rush of blood, no fear, no worry.  You just look at him, seeing all of him, young and old.  You realize there has been more than one constant in your life. 

The knife catches a glint of starlight, a flash of light in the darkness. 

“You and I are the same, aren’t we, murder princess?” he says.   “But also not.  You were raised in the pen with us but it was never the same.  We’re just animals to him.  Raised to the slaughter, ha!  But not you.  One way or another, you’re going to be someone.” 

You watch as he lifts his hand. He curls and uncurls a fist.  He looks down at his palm. 

“When it happens,” Changbin says, “Because it will happen, tomorrow or in a month or a year or whenever Miroh decides… But when I go like the rest of them… When it’s just you and you’re trying to decide who you want to be, not who your father wants you to be…  When you’re trying to remember everything and you can’t decide what was real and what was just training and what was Miroh…” 

He draws a slow slice across his hand, not so deep to be detrimental to his grip, but enough to draw blood in a long, thin line.  You look at this small scar as if it the deepest wound you have ever encountered. 

“Just… remember me,” he says.  “I didn’t bleed because I believe in Miroh.  I’m your soldier, not his.”

You are at a loss for words.  You do not think there are any words, none that you were raised to know.  You can only stare at the little trickle of blood as it runs down his wrist and drips onto the floor. 

You have always felt very alone.  You learned to thrive in that solitude.  Even clinging to the hope of your father’s approval proved exhausting and useless.  You accepted your high promontory was a lonely one.  

Not even that solitude compares to the idea of Changbin gone.  Even if you go weeks without seeing him, he is out there somewhere.  You both keep your heads down, get the job done.   Not the best soldiers, not the worst, but the ones still here. 

You let instinct override your senses for the second time that night.  When he makes to stand, your reflexes snap into action.  You grab him by the arm and snatch the knife.  He has no time to respond, watching as you slice a similar scar on your own palm. 

Your eyes meet.  You are unflinching, more resolute than ever.  You clasp his hand and the blood smears in a signifying pact that needs no other words. 

Only when the moment settles do you say, “You’re not a half-bad bodyguard.”

His laughter comes to him slowly, none of that empty joviality but a genuine burst of it.  His eyes crinkle and his smiles widens and the laughter bubbles out of him. 

“I’m the best bodyguard,” he says.  “And don’t you ever fucking forget it.” 

-

In the light of day, last night’s whirlwind of dramatic emotions feel tempered.  You and Changbin are able to conduct yourselves with a proper degree of soldiership.  Though his words and your promise are in the back of your mind, you put it away for now.

You dress in combat gear and pack your bags for another day of infiltration, investigation, and clean-up.  It is hard to say how easy or difficult the day will be.  If you encounter other agents, the confrontation could complicate things, but sometimes that is better than a long day with no interesting discoveries at all. 

The enemy had properties scattered all over town, some active and some not.  This particular office building is a very old one, seemingly long since abandoned and turned into company storage.  Some of these boxes have not been touched in decades, perhaps remnants of the business as run by the previous generation. 

A thick layer of dust coats the desks and boxes.  At least your masks are put to work, filtering the dusty air as you trail through the building. 

“Yahhh,” Changbin whines, flicking some papers off a desk.  “Today’s going to be boring.” 

“Yup,” you say in accord.  There is no way anyone else will be here.  You doubt there is anything of value to be discovered, but Miroh will harass you if you do not complete his missions as outlined.  With so much tension between you already, it is better to keep your head down and complete the menial tasks, even if it is blatant busy work. 

A few of your officers are sent ahead to sweep the building.  It is not a towering skyscraper but several tall floors nonetheless.  Your subordinates take different floors while you and Changbin take an upper level.  You begin the tedious task of rifling through the abandoned documentation.

“I’m a supersoldier, not a secretary,” Changbin gripes, moving boxes with more force than necessary.

“You’re not a supersoldier,” you say without looking up from your work.  “There’s no such thing.”

“I’m pretty close,” he says, flexing and kissing his bicep. 

“When you start flying, maybe I’ll consider it,” you retort, dryly.

“All right, I’m not a supersoldier,” he says.  He takes off his mask to grin at you.  “But I am super good looking.” 

You take off your own mask to throw at him like a projectile.  He squeals and ducks, then proceeds to cuss you out for the next few minutes while you smile. 

Eventually he takes a seat.  He props his booted feet up on a desk while sorting through some papers with absent-minded perusal. 

“So tell me again about the security log,” Changbin says, evidently growing bored within minutes. 

You can hardly blame him.  It is why you are about to reply, but your thoughts are quickly obliterated.  Gunfire reverberates in the nearby stairwell, followed by shouting and thumping.  Seconds later, your warning pagers are vibrating.  Your officers’ voices come through the communications software.

“Hostile enemy agents breached ground zero,” they say.  “Be ready for confrontation.”

You and Changbin spring into action.  Your masks are unfortunately abandoned, too far to grab in a rush thanks to your shenanigans, but your bags and weapons are within reach.   You swing them on and arm yourselves, racing into the corridor to join the rest of your team. 

It happens very fast.  One moment, this ancient building is nothing more than a dilapidated office from a bygone era, brimming with useless nothings that no one would want.  The next moment, it is overflowing with enemy agents, pouring in one after the other. 

You and Changbin join the other officers in the stairwell.  None of you are prepared for the sight that greets you, the sheer number of adversaries that come streaming into the building at rapid speed.

“What the fuck,” you say, realizing far too late you cannot take this many agents.  You have not had anything near this problem before.   

You look at Changbin, both of you shooting uselessly to stop the encroach of hostiles. 

“We need to retreat,” you say in unison.  You nod at each other. 

The message gets passed along the communicators.  There is no way to escape through the ground floor, the enemy agents chasing you up the stairwell.  You take out your phone to call for back-up, relaying the message directly to Miroh’s team leaders. 

“Can you at all identify the hostiles?” the man asks. 

“Do we know who they are?” you shout at Changbin over the gunfire and chaos. 

“Ah, well they’re not friends!” he replies.

You pause in your ascent to squint down at the approaching horde.  The uniform colours are familiar at a glance, but the dog tags confirm your suspicions.  It locks you in place with shock and confusion, because there is no way that makes any sense. 

These agents belong to the enemy.  The enemy.  It explains the numbers, as only that house could rival Miroh in terms of size and numbers.  But it is not possible he is conducting an offensive attack because he’s dead and his business is in shambles.  There is no one to conduct an operation on his behalf.  It makes no sense. 

Changbin grabs you by the back of the neck, hauling you up the stairs with him. 

“Not the time to stop and smell the flowers, murder princess,” he says. 

“It’s the enemy,” you say.  “I don’t know how or why, but it’s them.”

“We’re sending a back-up team straight to you right now,” Miroh’s leader says. 

You end the call to focus on your surroundings, confusing and chaotic as they are. 

You watch as several of your officers are taken down.  You wince at each reverberation of a gunshot that kills them.  A dozen more faces flash in front of your eyes, every child in that program with you, every enemy you have killed on Miroh’s behalf.  Chris.  Felix.  Changbin, young, small, looking at you with concern.

The reign of fire follows you.  You think you will be hearing gunshots for days. 

“Get her out,” one of your officer’s says into the comms, directed at Changbin.  “Leave through the roof.  We’ll hold them off.”

You trip running up the stairs. 

You never trip, far more coordinated than the average soldier.  But you hear your officer say that and your mind’s eye is overwhelmed with the image of them dying.  Because that is what will happen.  You should not be bothered by it.  You can train a new security team.  They exist for this exact reason. 

But all their faces are flashing in front of your mind.  Your team, the program soldiers, the First Guard.  A thunderous pain rattles down your spine, a cry leaving your lips as you are inundated with visions of death that you suddenly cannot shake. 

“Up, up!” Changbin shouts, hoisting you onto your feet.  “You’re better than this!” 

He’s right.  You are a soldier.  You trained for this.  You were made to fight. 

You push through the pain and thunder.  You get your feet back under you.  You race with Changbin to the roof and trust your team to do what is best. 

You slam and bolt the door behind you.  You look around for something to barricade it but there is nothing.  Changbin meanwhile opens his pack and takes out the rappel line and harness.  You have had little use for it on most of the assignments, but it is standard tactical gear when assigned any investigation or clean-up work, as it can require getting into locked areas through sky access.   You almost left them behind today, knowing the building was abandoned and you would have no difficulty getting in.  You are glad you decided against that. 

“Here,” Changbin says, handing you the harness.  “Put this on.”  He ducks back down to finish securing the line on the edge of the roof. 

“They’re not gonna be able to hold them,” you say, fitting the harness around yourself.  It is second-nature.  You hardly need to think, fastening every buckle as you stare at that closed door.  “They’ll be on us in seconds,” you say.  “They’ll just follow us over the roof on the line.”  You grant your odds are better on the street, that you can endeavour an escape, but that is only if you get that far.  Those enemy agents are going to blast down that door like it’s made of cardboard, then they will be on you. 

Your heart is pounding in your chest, your adrenaline propelling every breath.  You do not have time to think twice.  It is why it takes you so long to notice that Changbin has not put on a harness. 

“What are you doing?” you ask when he stands, completely unprepared to rappel down the building.  “We have to go! Put your harness on, idiot!” 

He takes the hook and locks it onto your harness, fastening it with a few skilled flicks of his fingers.  You grab his hand, stopping him. 

He takes a breath and finally meets your eye.  The wind blows his dark bangs across his face, opening up his expression to you.  You can feel the furious scrunch of your own features go lax.  Just like that, your adrenaline dwindles, all that heat turning to an ice cold block in your chest.  It drops to your gut.

“Changbin,” you start. 

“You’re going to go down that line,” he says.  “When you’re at the bottom, I’m going to cut it so they can’t follow you.  It will buy you time to get to the vehicles and get away.”

“Absolutely not,” you say.  “What the fuck are you thinking?  You—”  

“I’m your bodyguard,” he says with that wry smile.  “This is my job.  Let me do it.” 

“No,” you say, struggling against him.  You try to unhook the rappel line but he fights back, not your usual play-fighting but deadly serious.  “You can’t be serious!” you shout.  “We’re the same thing!  If you’re staying and fighting then I’m joining you!”

“We’re not the same thing!” he shouts back.  “You’re a Miroh!  You need to get out of here!”

“You’re right, I am a Miroh!” you say.  “It’s me they want anyway!  You put on the harness!  You can still get out of here!”

“I’m not leaving here without you!”

You want to reply.  The words are right on your lips: I’m not leaving here without you either. 

But before you can say them, all that thunderous pain fractures your vision again.  Your focus splits.  You see Changbin in front of you, dressed in his combat gear with the wind in his hair.  

Then everything changes. 

The sunny sky darkens and the rooftop disappears.  You see the colour grey.  It is all around you, halfway blinding you, filling your lungs so you can hardly breathe.  You blink rapidly, as if that will clear your vision, but it is just more grey and the sound of faraway voices. 

Then you see Changbin again, in his combat gear but years younger.  Just a teenager, all skinny cheeks and sharp angles.  There is no wind in his hair.  There is no wind anywhere.   He is bleeding profusely from a head wound, a stark slash of red in the middle of so much grey.  He says your name.  You hear your own voice but it is a foggy, faraway thing.  You cannot make out what you are saying.  When you look down, you cannot see your body.  You can only see him.  You can only hear him.    

“I’m not leaving here without you,” he says.

Then you are abruptly yanked out of that grey.  You are back on the rooftop in the sunshine. Changbin has his hand planted on your chest, securing the last piece of the harness.  You hear the thud of someone kicking at the bolted door.  You look there frantically.  Changbin does too.  Then you look at each other. 

“I told you I was the best bodyguard ever,” he says, smiling.  

He whips off his glove, revealing his freshly scarred hand.  He grabs your bare hand, the one with the still-tender scar.  He clasps your hands together and looks at you with a desperation you have never seen before, like he is trying to tell you a thousand things with just a glance. 

Then he slowly lets go of your hand. 

“Sorry I can’t fly,” he says. 

He shoves the middle of your chest, hard.  You go tumbling over the edge of the roof just as the enemy agents break the door down. 

There is nothing you can do mid-air.  You can only shout his name, terrified and furious and desperate all at once.  You scream your emotions out until the line comes to an end, a few feet from the ground.  You unclip your harness and drop to the ground smoothly. 

“Can anyone copy?” you speak into your comm, looking up at the roof helplessly.  You watch as an enemy agent swings over and starts to climb down the rope.  You draw your gun and brace yourself.

Then Changbin’s head pops over the edge.  “Copy,” he says, then cuts the line. 

You jump out of the way.  Seconds later, the enemy agent comes careening into the ground.  The pile of rope lands on top of him.

“Fuck,” you say.  “Fuck, fuck, fuck.  Changbin!” you shout hysterically into your comms.  “Changbin, can you copy?”

He doesn’t answer.  You run over to the body, searching for something.  You don’t even know what, you just know that this whole situation is wrong. 

It does not take you long.  You roll the body over.  Though his neck is now twisted at a fatal angle, you recognize the agent.  He was standing in your father’s office just a few weeks ago.  His name was Agent Slump.  You shot him through the shoulder. 

These are not enemy agents attacking the house of Miroh, they are your father’s men attacking you.  

You push away from the body, looking frantically up at the roof for any sign of further commotion.  You see nothing from this vantage. 

You run back into the building.  You let adrenaline and instinct carry you up the stairs, taking a few at a time and ignoring the burn in your thighs.  This is Miroh, you keep repeating to yourself.  Your father has done this.  Sending fake enemies after you.  Teaching you yet another lesson.  You said you could handle yourself.  You said your security team could protect you.  Now you are running past their dead bodies, your chest heaving from exertion and emotion.  You find yourself blinking back tears.  You cannot remember the last time you cried. 

“Changbin,” you say into your comm, tripping on another step.  Your voice comes out of the comms on your dead officers.   It echoes in the empty stairwell.  “Changbin, answer me, please,” you say.  “It’s not the enemy.  It’s my father.  It’s Miroh.  Changbin.  Changbin.”

You are halfway up the building when you hear voices below.  You stop to listen.  Your vibrating phone makes you jump. 

“Miss Miroh?” comes a voice, then you see one of your father’s officers at the bottom of the winding stairwell.  This one is not playing a part.  He is in the standard uniform.  There are more officers behind him.  The back-up you called like an idiot. 

You do not go back down.  You drop your phone and race to the roof.

“Get her,” you hear the officer say, then the stairwell is thundering with footsteps as they chase you. 

You no longer know what you are doing.  You do not know where you are going or what you will find.  A part of you is unsurprised when the rooftop is empty, that they got away, that now your father’s men can come in and play hero. 

You look around for Changbin but you cannot find him anywhere.  You try to tell yourself that is a good thing, that it could be worse, that he could be as dead as your security team, just a body on this roof.  You try to tell yourself that he is safe.  It was just Miroh.  They are probably taking Changbin back to the main facilities right now.  Everything will be fine. 

Deep down, you know nothing will be fine.   Everything has changed. 

You hear the officers behind you.  You look around.  The building next door is too far for a regular person to jump, potentially too far for you to jump.  It will be cutting it close, but it is all you have.  At this point, you halfway hope you’ll fall and your father’s men will be forced to report they let you die. 

You shed the top layer of your combat shirt, getting down to the tank top underneath.  You are not sure it will make a difference, but every bit counts.  You back up and count a few seconds, then you take a running leap off the roof.  You get a grip on the next one, though not without a lot of pain.  You grit your teeth and hoist yourself up, ignoring your scraped arms as you take off running.  You open a skylight and drop into the building.  Another empty corridor stretches in front of you. 

You decide your objective it to escape.  You can confront your father after, but right now you need to prove you can handle yourself.  You can get out of here. 

You are certain your father’s men will have the vehicles locked in.  Once you escape this building, you will have to find another—

A window behind you shatters.  You duck and cover your head as glass explodes around you.  You roll to get away, though your limbs are shaky from everything.  When you get to your feet, it is more unsteady than usual. 

You turn around.  You feel that sinking feeling in your gut again.

“Oh my god,” you say.  “Of fucking course it’s you.” 

Bang Chan stands there, cold and ungiving like the living shadow he has become.  Your father likes an agent that can both disappear and intimidate, so Chan somehow feels like a terrifyingly huge figure, looming over you, despite the fact he is not much bigger or taller.  His presence is hulking, as deadly and awful as you remember.  He stares at you with those dark eyes over the half-mask.  He is not breathing especially hard despite the fact he just took a running leap from the opposite building and smashed through a window.  His body is as steady and ungiving as his gaze. 

You do not waste any more breath cursing.  You turn and run. 

You know it is useless but you have to try.  In your head, if you get away, that is a bargaining chip.  You can talk to Miroh, you can show him that you were right, you can have Changbin back, and Changbin will be fine and—

You let out an aggravated cry when Chan grabs you.  You manage to rip away after a few good kicks.  It is amazing what hidden strength lies in adrenaline.  Your heart is pumping even faster than your last fight with him. 

You duck into a stairwell and jump over the railing, landing a couple floors below.  You keep doing that, ignoring the fact you can hear him copying you.  If you look back, it will slow you down.  You keep jumping until you hit the bottom floor. 

You make it a few steps before he grabs you again.  This time he is relentless, a big gloved around wrapped around your throat. 

That adrenaline betrays you.  It is like all your training abandons you as your terror and fury rips through you.  You struggle against him, your motions jerky and frantic and poorly strategized.  He pins you to the wall, using his whole body to lock you in place so you stop kicking him. 

“Let me go,” you say, barely above a whisper.  It makes him tighten his grip on your throat.  You twitch helplessly, gripping his arm uselessly, your face pinched with anger.  

You are swiftly joined by the other officers.  You glare at them, still digging your nails into Chan’s arm.  He does not soften his grip until he is ordered, then he puts you on your feet.  You stumble, your vision covered in black spots as you suck in deep, gasping breaths.  It was not even just the choking, as he did not squeeze hard enough to fully incapacitate you, but as your adrenaline dwindles, your strength does too. 

You trip for the third time.  Someone grabs you by the shoulders and pulls you back up.  You are not sure if you are more surprised or terrified to find it is Chan, looking at you with calculating eyes.  You stare back at him, this manifestation of your father’s worst, most inhumane actions.   You are torn between apologizing to him and kicking him again. 

Then another officer grabs you.  You watch with alarm as he puts you in handcuffs.

“What the fuck?” you ask.  “Who’s fucking side are you on?”

“Miroh always, of course,” the officer says.  “This is for your own good.  You are behaving erratically.  Don’t be scared.  We will inform your father that you tried to flee from your own protective officers.  I am certain he will do everything in his power to ensure you cannot put yourself in harm’s way again.” 

You have no more words.  An animalistic cry escapes from your chest, ripping through you.  Even with your hands cuffed behind your back, you dive at the officer and take him down.  You bite down on his ear until you taste the metallic tang of blood.  He screams under you until someone rips you off him.   They hold you by the back of the neck like a poorly behaved puppy. 

The officer gets to his feet.  Blood is pouring down the side of his neck, part of his ear torn.  You spit blood at him.

He raises his hand as if to strike you.  You stand there, chin jutted forward, ready to take it. 

Then you realize it is Chan holding you.  When the officer brings his hand down, Chan moves you.  He steps in between you and catches the officer’s wrist. 

Chan says nothing.  He does not need to say anything.   He looks at the officer and the officer swallows. 

The officer snatches his hand back and straightens his clothes. 

“We’re leaving,” he says.  “Guard, take your charge.” 

You are looking smugly at the officer.  That cockiness dissipates when Chan turns around and looks at you.  It has you immediately shrinking away, then flinching when he grabs your arm.    

They take you to a truck.  It is one of the holding trucks, the kind they use for transporting undesirables.  It is obvious they always intended to lock you in chains.  You have been in metaphorical chains your whole life, and it is only taking this to realize it. 

You try and slow your frantic breathing.  You cannot have a breakdown right now.  It will only make it harder for you when you confront your father.  You are already at a disadvantage, being dragged to him in literal chains.  You will be completely at his mercy, and Miroh does not have mercy. 

You sit on the bench in the back of the prison truck.  You expect to be alone with an officer, giving you time to strategize and think, but then it is Chan climbing into the van and sitting on the bench across from you.  All the hairs on your body stand up.  You cannot concentrate on anything with Bang Chan in close proximity.  He moves like a wild animal, something predatory and swift about him.   When they close and lock the door, your heart skips beats. 

Chan says nothing.  He never says anything.  On the rare occasion you have been in contact, you have not heard a word out of him.  You seldom have anything to do with the missions he runs.  They are above even your paygrade, the worst of Miroh’s work. 

You swallow.  He is not speaking but he is staring.  He does not remove the mask.  You have not seen him without it in years.  He is nothing but a soldier.  An army unto himself. 

Your heart skips another beat.  An idea slowly forms in your mind. 

You are better than average.  Chan is better than you.  You cannot take all these agents on your own, but you could definitely take them with his help.   Of course, that is an entirely hypothetical thought.  It would be absolutely, completely, severely ridiculous to even try.   You are certain the best reaction you will get out of Chan is nothing, just a penetrating stare and silence.  The worst would probably be a snapped neck. 

You curl your hands behind your back.  The scar on your palm stings.  You clench your jaw.

You have nothing else to lose. 

“You’re not a soldier, you know,” you say. 

Just like you suspected, he says nothing.  He just stares at you.  The truck rattles along, jostling you so your handcuffs jingle.  He moves with the sway of the vehicle, hardly affected. 

Your fear turns to frustration.  You heave a breath. 

“Did you hear me?” you ask.  “You’re not a soldier.  You’re a prisoner.  You’re not who you think you are.  Miroh has you under his control, but it’s not real.  The real you is in there somewhere.  And the real you—”  The words come rushing up, slamming into your furiously clenched teeth, “The real you hates Miroh almost as much as me.” 

Chan stares at you.  That is expected.

What is unexpected is the slow tilt of his head.  It makes you shiver, instinctively cowering as he studies you.  His brow slowly quirks, a questioning expression.  You did not know he could make such an expression. 

“Are you… listening to me?” you ask.   

He straightens, but he still looks questioning.  It is enough for all your desperation to rush to the surface.  You fall forward, slamming on your knees in front of him.  You are so scarred and bruised, it hardly matters.  More important is the fact he looks down, as if he is more concerned by it, though you cannot read any more expressions on his stoic face. 

“Chan,” you say.  “Chris.  Whatever you want to be called.  If you’re in there, then listen to me, please.  I know you don’t know me.  We hardly knew each other at all growing up.  But we did grow up together.  Miroh is controlling both of us.  He is going to use us to do things.  He—”  You curl your fist behind you, needing to feel the sting on your palm.  It brings a tear to your eye. 

Chan is looking at you, expressionless again, but it doesn’t matter.  You have to try.

“It’s not just us,” you say.  “This is bigger than you and me.  I have a—I have a friend—my friend, you understand, and I—”

The van comes to a stop.  Chan grabs you by the shoulders and puts you back on your bench.  You screw your eyes shut and shake your head.  You want to scream. 

When you open your eyes, you pour all your anger in your glare.  It is not directed at Chan, though he is the one to catch your gaze and hold it. 

You are still looking at each other when the door is unlocked.  There was only a small window providing light in the cabin of the truck.  A bigger slash of golden light has you wincing. 

Chan is unaffected, still staring at you.  An officer opens the door wider and nods to him. 

“Let’s go, guard,” he says. 

Chan gets up.  You watch as he struts past.  He jumps out of the van and lands smoothly on his feet.

Then he reels back and punches the officer.  It is quick as a snap, the unconscious body hitting the tarmac in a flash.  It makes you jump, the bench rattling underneath you. 

You sit, petrified, confused.  Chan slowly turns.  You blink at him.

He holds out his hand. 

“What?” you say.  It comes out a rasp.  You cannot manage more words.  There is no way your frantic, barely coherent pleading got through to him.  This man has been tortured into compliance.  There is no humanity left in him, no memories, no emotions, no hopes.   He does not feel anything.  He does not understand anything.  He is a weapon.

He is still holding out his hand. 

There is nowhere to go but forward.  You get to your feet and shuffle towards him.  He still does not speak, nor does he look at you with any particular expression.  He just holds out his arms and lifts you out of the van.  When you are on your feet, you stare at each other.

He spins you around.  A gust of breath whooshes out of you.  You panic for half a second, then you realize he is unlocking your handcuffs. 

Never mind.  He is breaking them with his bare hands.  You watch as they hit the ground in a mangled heap.  You turn around slowly, your knees still shaking. 

Chan is calm as the other officers approach.  Someone asks why you are out of your handcuffs. 

Chan looks at you.  You do not know why or how, but he nods. 

You nod back.

You are a soldier.  You trained for this.  You were made to fight.  It is time to remind them of that. 

-

Your father is in his rooftop garden.  Miroh has a few soft hobbies like that, gardening among his favourite.  He sees himself as a cultivator as much as a green thumb, bringing more life into the world despite what life he takes.  It balances for him.  The ends always justifies the means. 

You walk into his garden.  It is obvious he is not expecting anyone, much less you.  He does not have time to hide his surprise.   You just fought your way through all of his security measures, battered and bruised and beaten.  You have not seen yourself, but you are certain your body is a canvas of violence right now. 

“Hello, father,” you say. 

“Go to my office,” he replies without hesitation.  “We will talk there.”

“No,” you say calmly.  “We’ll talk right here.  Right now.” 

He is holding a watering can.  He puts it down without looking and it tips over, splashing everywhere.  Neither of you look at it.  Your eyes are locked on each other.  You both know what he did today.  He is smart enough to work that out. 

“Where are my men?” he asks. 

“Detained,” you answer.  Chan is holding them off somewhere.  You still do not know why or how, but there will be time for that later.  You have to solve one problem at a time. 

You have no real plan.  You are making it up as you.  All you know is that scar on your hand is throbbing.

I’m not leaving here without you. 

You touch your palm, running your finger over the scar.  You do not look away from Miroh as you approach him.  Your legs are weak, your knees shaking, your body in agony, but you take one step after the other.  Given the stricken look on his face, you think this might be more disturbing than if you were healthy. 

Your injuries might have made you equal fighters, but his arm is still in a cast, weakening him too.   He will not win in a one-on-one fight.  He is smart enough to know that too.  It is why he takes a careful, calculating step back. 

“You’re injured,” he says.  “Go to the infirmary.  We can talk after.”

“We can talk now,” you reply, taking another step forward. 

“Whatever it is, it can wait,” he says. 

“Where is he?” you ask. 

You are both speaking calmly, moving slowly.  The watering can is slowly leaking water, gurgling in the background.  Wind moves through the flowers.  You hear birdsong in the sunshine.   Still, in the background, it feels like the world is screaming, the high-pitched whistle of that pot at a boiling point. 

“Who?” your father asks. 

“I’m not playing any more games,” you say.  “I’m not playing dress-up with any little secret agents.  I’m not getting in any rings and playing made-up fights with your silly toy soldiers.  No more lies.  No more games.  No more secrets.  Seo Changbin is my best officer.  I want him back.  Tell me where he is.” 

“His time as a soldier has run its course,” Miroh says.  “His body is more useful than him.  The initial special-ops experiment was a failure.  His genetics might unlock the key to replicating the medicant.  We can try again.  You should want to help me.  You would know better than anyone what worked and what did not.” 

Your exhaustion and emotion nearly gets the better of you.  You almost hurl right in front of him, imagining all the horrifying implications of genetics and keys.  You imagine them taking Changbin apart, piece by piece, experimenting on him like a slab of meat. 

You keep your disgust and horror down.  You take another step forward. 

“Give him back to me,” you say.  “Right now.  I told you already.  I’m not playing any games.” 

���You are deeply unwell,” your father says, his tone changing as he looks at you with more scrutiny.  His whole face seems to darken with the furrow of his brow.  “This is not like you.  Go to the infirmary.” 

“I’m not asking again,” you say.  “Give him back to me.” 

“Why?”

Because you’re my father, should be a good enough answer.  You know it will not work.  You know he does not care.  Miroh hates you because you are his daughter.  Miroh is not scared of anyone because he knows he is the best.  He is scared of himself in you.  You never stood a chance. 

“Because he’s my friend,” you say, because that is the only truth that matters anymore. 

It makes your father laugh unexpectedly.  You do not break. 

“Your friend?” he asks.  “Oh, well, my dear, if he’s your friend, then of course I’ll suspend all my plans and operations!”  He continues to laugh.

“I already told you,” you say.  “I’m not asking again.” 

You fly at him without further warning.  He has a half-second to react, his eyes widening as he side-steps clumsily.  With your mutual injuries, it is not much of a fight.  After a short scuffle, Miroh kicks at your legs, your weakest point, and you double over.  He swings his knee up into your stomach and it makes you fall, curled protectively over yourself.  You plant your forehead on the ground, arms around you, breathing hard. 

“That is how a daughter should be before her father,” he says, looking down at you in your broken little bow. 

You look up as he reaches into the lapel of his coat.  He has kept his gun in the same place for years.  In the same place you always keep yours when you wear a long coat. 

He puts his hand there and finds nothing. 

You uncurl, showing the gun in your hand.  You point it, cock it, and place your finger on the trigger as you stand. 

“If the next words you speak are not his exact location, I’m killing you,” you say. 

“Then kill me,” he says. 

He must know you are running on fumes and a half-baked plan that you did not believe would work.  He is calling your bluff, knowing you like he knows himself.  You will drop the gun and concede.  Miroh wins.  Miroh always wins. 

But you are gripping that gun with your scarred hand.  It sends a twinge of pain shooting up your arm.   You hear Changbin’s voice in your head.

You pull the trigger. 

You are not sure who is more surprised.  You can feel it on your own face, dripping with your sweat and blood.  You lower the gun and watch as Miroh stumbles backwards, frantically patting his chest.   You wonder if he is wearing any protective layers.

It doesn’t matter, in the end.  You spent the last few minutes walking him backwards.  If you couldn’t get the gun, you were going to grab him and threaten him with the edge of the roof. 

When you shoot him, he stumbles.  He falls back.  He goes right over the edge.

You stand there for a long minute.  The watering can has emptied.  The wind has gone still.  The whole world seems to stop.  When you drop the gun, it hits the concrete with a clatter.  It feels very strange that the sun is still shining. 

You walk to the edge of the roof.  You look down.  Your father has loomed over the world from this perch for years, looking over the things he has so meticulously grown. 

He is laying in a broken heap at the bottom of it now. 

You do not know how long you stand there.  The wind begins to blow again.  You feel it on your face. 

Then you hear a voice.  It nearly makes you jump. 

“What now?” it asks. 

You turn around.  Bang Chan is standing there in his dark combat gear, that half-mask still fastened in place. He has finally broken a sweat, his hairline damp, and his chest is moving a little faster with breath.  He is human somewhere under there.  Deep, deep down.   You have no idea what to do with that human anymore than the soldier. 

One problem at a time. 

A few more officers appear on the rooftop.   Chan turns.  You approach him. 

“What now?” you repeat.  You scoop up the discarded gun and point it at the officers.  Chan draws his own and does the same.  You stand side-by-side, arm-to-arm, eyes on your adversaries.  “Right now,” you say, “we fight.” 

You pull the trigger. 

The fight begins. 

[smellslikechahnspirit]

Request: so 👁️🫦👁️ it's inspired by his solo performance song "railways" and my request is: chan clubbing with the team after a successful tour -in the club, red lights, party - suddenly she caught his eye.

he texts this girl saying he had his eyes on her all the evening he loved how she was dressed black short dress very sexy with her long hair loose sitting alone by the bar and that he'd like to meet her or something!!

Thank you ✨

Rail me

[You did what you both have been wanting to do for a long time]

BangChan x Reader

🕸🤍 read guide lines in Masterlist!

THIS IS (OBVIOUSLY) ALL FICTION AND IS FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY! THIS IS MY PERCEPTION OF HOW I THINK SKZ WOULD BEHAVE IN SITUATIONS LIKE THIS AKA, NOT REAL. I DO NOT SEXUALISE CHRIS IN ANY WAY OR FORM.

ADULT CONTENT AHEAD!

11:51 PM

It was almost as if he could litterly feel the sweat coming off of everyone. The club was overheated. People dancing up against each other everywhere. Music loud. Red lights bright in his face. He was having some what of a good time with his friends. Yet something didn´t quite meet his needs. Even though he was in a room full of people, he felt lonely. Hey bro, I think imma head out soon. I´m beat. I understand, get home safe yeah? Bet. After he said his goodbye to Felix, who by the way was still full on dancing with Hyunjin, since hours ago, he decided to indeed leave. Right before heading out he noticed you. The girl he has had feelings for, for some years now. Both never really confessing, you kinda knew there was something there. He thought about it for a second, and decided to just text you. Something about his lonely needs...would be cured, he thought.

Right as you read his last send message you were tapped on the shoulder. You turned but no one was there. Boo. You turned the other way and saw Chris standing there. With that signature goofy-looking smile on his face. Dork. You smiled back. He gave you a hug and a soft kiss on your cheek. Hi love, looking so hot tonight huh. When? Hm? When did I ask? He made the ´-_-´ face and you started laughing. I´m kidding I´m kidding, thanks for the compliment. He sat next to you on one of the bar stools. So, where is the rest of the gang huh? Still dancing I guess. Hm I see. Both of you watch the dance floor as Felix and Hyunjin were looking a lot like a scene from White Chicks. Fire. Fire. Both of you laughed. But there was something about the way Chris kept looking at you. More intense then normally. More hungry. What? Chris didn´t wanna waste anymore time and threw himself into the deep. Let´s get out of here. Huh? Let´s go to my place. Innie is still here, and by the looks of it...he won´t be home soon. Let´s go? You weren´t someone who just did these kinds of things with men, like ever. But you liked Chris since the day you guys first met. Was he really suggesting, what you thought he was suggesting? You looked at him confused at first. Then questionable. Trust me, yeah? You did, you trusted him with your life. You got up and took his hand. Both leaving the club and he drove you to his dorm.

00:23 AM

When he opened the door and closed it back behind you, he once again, didn´t waste any time. He pinned you up against the wall and started kissing you. After a few seconds you stopped him. Chris...once we go there...there is no turning back. He pulled your messy hair away from your eyes and looked at you. What are you worried about? You want this too right? Yes..yes I do very much. But people... People? What people? I don´t see anyone here? He said as he prentend to look for someone in the dorm. People won´t like this. And what about what I like? And you? Hm? Don´t worry about the cassulties baby. You´re safe, while it´s just you and me. Your fear of people finding out was real, but he had a point. No one knew. And besides. He and you are adults and should be able to do whatever you both wanted, without caring what other people wanted. Fear is dead. Nothing but desire crawled into your veins and you pushed him away a bit further. But the worried look you had a couple of seconds ago was turned into a hungry one. He smirked right back. You slowly started to undress yourself. He watched you every move. His heart was racing. He grabbed your face again and kissed it hard. You kept taking off pieces of clothing as he did the same to his. Not breaking the kiss once. Once you were both almost naked, only underwear left on your bodies, He grabbed your legs, making you jump up and wrapping around his waist. He walked over to his bedroom and locked the door. Throwing you onto his bed making you giggle. He stood in front of you palming himself through his boxers. You kept looking at him. God he was so perfect. Sculpted by the gods themselves. Not a flaw on his body or soul. The thought of him touching you, was enough to make you wet. You couldn´t take the tension anymore and started rubbing your clit through your panties. He kept watching you as he got closer and closer. You want me yeah? Just like I want you? You could only nod. By now he was bascially hovering over you. Allow me? He took your hand away from yourself and pinned it above your head. His other hand unclipped your bra first, then went over to your panties. He did the same thing you were doing before, yet when he did it, it felt different. He looked at you for confirmation to continue and you nodded again. He pulled your black laced panties to the side and his bare touch felt better than ever. He noticed you closing your eyes in pleasure. He knew you liked it when he touched you. Waited for this for a long time, huh babe? Shut up. He laughed. You opened your eyes and pulled him on the bed next to you. He turned around so now he was the one on his back. You have been waiting for it as long as I have, Mr. Bahng. He smirked and put his hands behind his head. Admired by the way you took control for a second there. Go ahead. You did as he said and pulled his boxers down, throwing them on the ground. The cold air making him hiss. You weren´t surprised by his size, since well, he has a big nose and feet. We all know what they say... You didn´t want anything more then to have him in your mouth right now. So you did. He let loose and completly went with his desired feelings, lost in lust. Gosh, your mouth feels like heaven, how come we didn´t do this sooner...shit. You hummed around him making it feel even better. Fuck y/n...shit...don´t stop...please... After about 30 more seconds of you sucking him, you finally stopped. Making him growl due to frustration at the sudden lost feeling. Which was pure bliss. When he came back to his senses he knew what you wanted. He scootched down a bit so his head was now flat on the bed. Sit. You hesitated at first. Feeling too exposed too fast. He pulled you closer and again spoke. Take a seat, baby. You gave in to the feeling and obeyed his commants. He grabbed you ass in his hands as he started eating you out. Making you throw your head back. Making you moan, but instandly you covered your mouth, shocked by your own noise. Let loose baby, moan, no one is here. Enjoy the ride. And fuck, you did.

Completely lost yourself now, his tounge worked wonders on your clit. Your brain sending waves of pleasure and extacy through your entire body. More, please. More! When you got close to your climax he stopped and pulled you off of him. You too, were angry at the sudden loss of the feeling. He giggled. Out of breath from all the moaning you dropped down face deep into the pillows below you. His abs touching your back as he whispered. I wanna fuck you. Too tired to respond, you just wiggled your ass. He understood, and positioned himself at your entrence, from behind. Your pussy was already so arroused and wet, it made his dick glide like butter. Please... You couldn´t wait any longer. Yet he kept teasing you, and rubbging his dick along your slit. It made you eager and you sat up on your hands and knees. You never imagined your first time with him would be doggy style, but it felt right. Maybe now, you wouldn´t get too attached. He positioned himself once again and pushed the tip in. Only the tip, yet it hurt a little. Wait. You said as you pushed his leg slightly with your hand. You okay? Am I hurting you? You waited for yourself to adjust a little and shook your head. No, it´s fine now. Keep going. He wanted this so bad, but only if it felt good for the both of you. You tell me if it does hurt, okay baby. You nodded. He figured it would be faster if he just pushed it in, in one go. So he did. Making you gasp. Baby! Shit! He kept looking at you, to see if you were still alright. Once he saw you were, he started moving. First slow strokes...Getting used to the new sensation. As were you, but you wanted more, faster then expected. Chris, move faster... Pleased at your request, he gladly did so. Both of you moaning, as he picked up the pace. Fuck you feel so goddamn good around me y/n. As he said that he smacked your ass hard, making you whine at the pain mixed with pleasure. He grabbed your ass tightly as he continued fucking you roughly, yet lovely. You two continued for a long time...but after a while you did start to feel the tension of your orgasm coming back. So did he. Are we gonna cum at the same time baby? Yes, yes, yes. A few more thrusts and he came inside of you. At the same time you felt your orgasm rush over you. All that build up tension exploting in one go. Feeling hot. Tintling through your veins. God it felt so good. Thinking about both of you cumming at the same time, and mixing your juices together was kinda romantic in a way. God I wanna do that again. You said as you plopped down into the matras. Same, fucking hell. That was amazing. He replied as he also dropped down into the bed, next to you. Giving you a soft kiss. Let´s go even harder for round two. You wanted nothing more, but definetly needed a little break and catch your breath. I´ll get you something to drink baby, wait here. Be right back. You turned around, now laying on your back, admiring him as he nakedly walked out of his room. He had such a great ass, it´s indescribable. You smiled to your self as you relived the moments from seconds ago, in your head. Happy and satisfied as can be. But the second he walked out of that door, he yelled. AHHH! You instandly sat up, wanting to know what happened. Innie....how long have you been here?! He spoke to the traumatised-looking boy, who was currently holding onto a pillow for dear life. Oops...

...Masterlist...

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

© 2022-2024, smellslikechahnspirit • No posting on other sites or platforms, rewrites, or translations

[therandompagesblog]

SKZ Pack Prologue

Trigger Warnings: Blood, angst

No. No. No." Jisung shrieked as he saw Seungmin carrying his lifeless mate. His Y/N. The woman who made him laugh. The woman who got him into trouble. He could not believe his eyes, he didn't want it to be true, but if it was true why was Hyunjin still here? Jisung's cries alerted the wolves and sent them down the stairs to see what the beta was so distraught over. Changbin was the first to arrive at the scene as he ran towards them, followed by Felix who was a blubbering mess. "What happened? Is she okay? Are you okay? What the fuck happened?" Changbin frantically shouted as his hands searched his omega's face. "We need to get her inside. She is weak and badly wounded. When she is treated then we will talk." Hyunjin stated as he looked at the two betas who nodded their heads before ushering the wolves to get out of the way so they could come in. Hyunjin gave Jeongin a look in passing. He could see the young alpha was incredibly pissed. Even Minho was as he stood behind him with a glare, but amongst that glare, concern and worry were hidden. They knew not to argue as right now their wounds were the most important, but when they were better there would be a heated conversation about the idiocy.

Seungmin placed Y/N down on the bed so Felix could look at her, while Minho stood there with a blank face, watching them. Felix quickly put some latex gloves on and searched her wounds, checking to see how deep they were. Some were smaller, but some were deep and were going to need stitches. Even the one down the side of her face was going to leave a scar, but Hyunjin told him to forget about the scarring and stitch her up, which he did, while Minho cleaned and wrapped the wound. Seungmin and Hyunjin sat on the floor practising self healing techniques to help their wounds but some of them would need external support. Hyunjin was forcing himself to heal so it could transfer to her, but the amount of pressure he used had caused him to collapse, sending the beta's into a panic. The beta's thought the worse as they knew the two were linked. They thought Y/N was struggling because her heart had weakened but they didn't think it was that bad. Seungmin worriedly lifted his head up to support him as he looked worriedly at Y/N who was being treated quickly by the two wolves. Much to Seungmin's surprise Jaehee was there to help the wolves and instructed Changbin and Jeongin to focus on Hyunjin, teaching them how to heal their wounds while the others stabilised Y/N. Felix was trying his hardest to control his tears but he was struggling. His shaky hands couldn't even pierce the skin on her face to stitch it up, he felt useless. Unlike the elder who had a stoic face and acted quickly, occasionally he would harshly chide Felix to control himself as otherwise they might possibly have a dead omega on their hands.

Time went past quickly but they managed to stabilise the two wolves who were asleep in Y/Ns room. Y/N was in her bed while the red-haired bruised alpha was on the floor. Jaehee said not to separate them as she wasn't sure what the consequences of separation would be to them so it was best to keep them together. At the same time, Seungmin sat downstairs with an ice pack and some medicine while being glared at by the other wolves. Jeongin held himself high as he folded his arms, dominating his presence that an alpha should when there were disobedient wolves in the room. Even Jisung was looking angry at the thought of his loved one being wounded. Seungmin felt incredibly on edge with all the glares. He didn't have anyone to hide behind when he told the story. Hell, it was not like he could blame Y/N when Minho would probably make a remark about 'If she asked you to jump off a cliff would you do it?' Seungmin probably would if she asked since she was quite a smart puppy, but still, Seungmin had to take the sequences and right now he was prolonging it. Seungmin was drinking the medicine slowly as he tried to avoid the conversation when Minho took it away from him. "Alright," Seungmin grumbled as he looked at them. "I'll tell you the story from the end to save you all the grief. Wooyoung has been exiled with the remaining wolves after Y/N killed Hongjoong in the circle. She nearly got herself killed during that. Wooyoung won't come back we made sure of it. The end." "That doesn't explain why the three of you stupidly left and put your life at risk," Jeongin said lowly. "No, but if you had listened to Y/N for the past few days, you would have known she had a plan for tonight. She knew when Hongjoong was at his weakest and she took the chance with none of you because you thought you knew best." Seungmin answered back. He watched Minho storm off at his comment. Minho was well aware he messed up. They all were. They could have prevented so much more but now it was done. Finished. All that was left to do was wait for the wolves to wake up and they weren't going to wake up anytime soon.

Taglist for the iconic readers

@galaxy4489 @mbioooo0000 @jisungs-iced-americano @maybeimmia @hwangrfrnd@wolfo2027 @kayleefriedchicken @leamueller920 @borahae-reads @jennibahng @cookiesandcreammy @leezanetheofficial @jutdwae-flower @danceonmyheyday @jc003 @hpnsfwaddict @linocz @itzreetal987 @skzdreamer13 @reallychaoticwoo @liv1sworld @upsidedownchaire @jutdwae-flower @danceonmyheyday @jc003 @hpnsfwaddict @skzdreamer13 o @ihttinniee @kingdomofpentagon @pixie0627 @tsunderelino @notevenheretbh1 @catlove83 @h0rnyp0t @hash2013 @hyunmikim @emi-han @iknow-uknow-leeknow @jigglypuff3000 @aalexyuuuhm @reallychaoticwoo @missseoulite @ihrtlix @estella-novella @xxeiraxx

[selyeji]

nouvelle vague

joão felix x reader

summary : you were simply an intern and he was on loan, you’ll blame the full moon.

warnings : not proofread, angst, joao is toxic and stupid, m*gui…

you stood on the elevator, holding onto your bag with both your hands. legs crossing while you lean against the railing, your gaze lowered to the floor. it was your first day as an intern, helping in the clubs social media and journalism.

the chimes of the door open, from your gaze you saw white sneakers, black pants and a pair of football cleats. dangling from his index and middle finger to carry it around. assuming he was a player for the club, you raise your head looking at his face. the bright lights of the elevator made his brown hair glow, his eyes were hooded and dark, ears busy listening to music.

softly sending a smile and a nod towards him, to show proper respect. he smiles back as he places his focus on pressing the buttons for his floor. you started to scrape off a hangnail on a finger of yours, it was a bad habit if yours. you did it to distract yourself or whenever you felt nervous.

the football player arrived on his floor first, footsteps echoed through the empty hallways once he exited the elevator. as you went up, you fixed your posture, eating a mint and fixing your hair. nervous for the new work space.

the moment you entered the office, your boss guided you around to introduce you. arriving to your own table, you started to place your things down. arranging a few files, pens and your laptop.

deciding to check on the photographers kn the training ground, you walk outside to the field. immediately facing the blue sky and green grass. jogging over to the area where most staff sat, creating small talk. until you saw those familiar boots again, white with cuts of grass under its heel.

the brown haired man from earlier, his hair messed up and the sun creating light highlights on his curls. it wasn’t until now you had a good look at him. he was handsome, perfect smile. your pupils darting up and down to look at his muscular but slim form.

…

the day started to pass by, the sun rays peeping out the pink blue clouds. you started to gather the necessities back in your bag, greeting you co-workers on your way out. you waited for the elevator once again to reach your floor, the doors slide open.

the player from earlier, met again. you were surprised, majority already went home. he was still in the building while you were expecting to get back alone. you shrugged it off, it was your first day either way. you wouldn’t know their schedule, maybe you were the one getting into their usual routine. he softly greeted you, recognizing you from earlier that day.

…

in the next days of the week, getting into the same elevator and seeing the same face. this became a daily routine of seeing other. you two got closer and closer, introducing each other and usually creating small talk. it was nice to get closer to someone aside from the people in the shared office.

it was after a long day of work, sun already set as the purple sky blended. you decided to visit a nearby music shop, it was your go-to shop whenever searching for vinyls or cds. the cashier already recognizes your face from the amount of times you visited.

pushing the glass door, entering the warm room. you already had your earphones on walking over to the cd section. looking over the new albums released, the arrangement wasn’t really organized by genre.

your peace was disturbed with a male voice, removing one of your earbuds. you look up to see joão, he smiled at you, showing his straight white teeth.

“i love the smiths” he said, referring to the album you were holding. you were a bit taken back, of course they’re known worldwide but here? not as much. “The Queen Is Dead is my personal favorite album. what about you?” he continued and asked you.

“Louder Than Bombs.” you grin sweetly at him, a bit of pink tint on your cheeks. he still stood on the opposite side, you two separated by the racks of cds on your side while vinyls on his. joão starts to look through the vinyl albums.

“you prefer vinyls over cds?” you ask him. continue to looking for yours. “of course, the albums are big enough to flex your music taste to people.” he joked. you chuckle, “im more of a cd person, you could listen to it everywhere.”

you two continued to talk, wasting the time in the store. recommending albums to each other, you two shared a passion for music, whether it was rap, r&b, jazz, pop or whatever. the two of you said your goodbyes once he left the store. you stood on the counter, deciding to buy the albums he recommended.

you rushed back home, your smile did not leave your face at all even after he left. quickly taking a warm shower, feeding your cat before going over to your desk.

turning on your lamp and cd player, before taking out the cd from the case and putting it on the player. you look at track-list while listening. based from the titles, you were expecting more love songs. you listen through the entire album, it was more of soft songs but it was for sure a great album. turning off the light, deciding to go to sleep.

…

you woke up early as usual, doing your daily routine before going off to work. you usually brought your own burnt cd with your custom playlist, but deciding to bring the other album you bought. deciding to listen to it on the way with your portable cd player.

once you arrived, elevator with him again. you both smile at each other. joao notices the music you were listening to, grinning to himself. but decided not to disturb you as usual.

you arrive to your office, quietly working on your own until you realize you finish the entire tracklist already. deciding to check up on the photographers on the field once again.

joao kept looking at you more than usual, smiling more until you noticed. once it got repetitive you just gave a lazy confused face, making him laugh. you went back to the office continuing your work.

the day ended, stretching your back while walking to the elevator. joao was already there as usual, he raises your brow at you while smiling. giving him a confused look you asked “what?”

“how was the album i gave you? didn’t think you would actually listen to my recommendations.” you connected the dots realizing he heard it blasting too loud earlier.

“surprisingly good from you. both albums were pretty great. plus whats the point of recommending if you’re not gonna listen anyways?” you raise your chin, smiling.

“hey wait surprisingly? what does that mean?” he asks, acting offended.

“nothing, if you heard it earlier, why didn’t you ask beforehand?” you chuckle. “i don’t wanna disturb you while listening to ethereal music. especially coming from me.” he says in a sassy tone. you laugh it off with him.

ever since then the two of you got close, always striking a conversation whenever you saw each other. whether it was on the field or not. the two of you definitely shared a lot of interests. it made you way more comfortable in your work space.

…

the sky was pitch midnight, the glowing of night life clubs became a source or light. you walk around the neon lights finding a specific bar. a friend of yours was performing tonight. they weren’t a big hit band but they still performed gigs often.

you walked in with a large crowd already waiting, the band was already preparing their instruments onstage. deciding to go the bar next to it, ordering a juice. you definitely did not want to deal with a headache in the morning.

before you knew it, the drummer started counting and the performance started. you still sat on the stool, taking sips every so often.

you felt a tap behind your shoulder, you turned your head, checking behind you. joao looking down on you smiling, he wore a white hoodie and black pants.

“mind if i sit next to you?” he asked, his head nodding to the side to the empty seat next to you. you smiled softly and said sure.

“didn’t know you went to these kinds of places.” joao yelled through the loud music and guitar. “im only here to support my friend actually, she’s the bass player over there.” you yelled back, pointing to your friend on the stage.

looking back to joao, the blue and purple lights that spread throughout the room, hitting his face. his eyes were already staring into yours, reflecting the bright lights in the room but kept it on yours.

your faces got closer, elbow leaning on the counter. your eyes going back and forth from his eyes to his full lips. before your lips could even collide, you two were distracted by the sudden yell of the crowd. a impressive guitar solo started playing, the room filled with cheers and claps. you laughed at joaos face while clapping, your romantic session ended.

leaning near to his neck you whisper, “let’s continue this later…” saying in a playful tone. you maintain eye contact as you smile.

once the performance ended, you greeted your friend goodbye after creating small talk. you walk out, already seeing joao waiting for you. he looks up from his phone, smirking. “let’s go, i know a spot.” he said, his hand out inviting you to hold hands.

grabbing his palm, intertwining hands. he walks you to the beach, it had a way nicer view of the ocean, you haven’t discovered this place before. he sat on the sand, tapping the empty spot beside him insisting you sit down.

you sat on the grainy sand, looking up to the night sky. it was a full moon, stars behind it but still shining in their own way. bringing your legs to your chest, you look beside you to see joao. his hands behind to lean on the ground.

moonlight reflected to his defined cheekbones, he raised his hand up to your jaw. dark pupils staring into your eyes, tucking a hair strand behind your ear before kissing you. your body started leaning against his, pushing the kiss further and further.

once you two separated, catching your breath. your head rested on his shoulder, refusing to look him on the face. too embarrassed on what would happen now. joao broke the silence through his giggle, picking you up while your legs hugged around his waist and your arms snake around his neck.

he carried you over to his car, which was surprisingly parked just nearby the beach. putting you down on the passenger seat, kissing your forehead in the process. once he got to the drivers seat, immediately leaning to rest his back.

“open up the compartment.” joao said, smirking as his hands rise up to the back of his head. you raise a brow while pouting your lips, wondering what he was talking about, your muscles immediately soften. the compartment was filled with cd cases.

“woah… i thought you were a vinyl person…” you said, still amazed looking at the different music you still haven’t listened to.

“can’t play them in a car no?” he laughs it off. you look over to him, the muscles in his arm clearly defined and showing. his white teeth showing through his perfect smile. you blush, admiring his features.

…

since that night, you and joao have gotten way closer than before. more than friends, but you weren’t even sure what was going on between you two.

he’d often let you stay at his house, play video games, cook, eat, shower together, make love. you two were like a couple, not publicly.

you laid down on joaos couch, waiting for him to get back home. scrolling through the internet finding something to entertain yourself with, you come across an interview. it was pretty recent from twitter, you play it to see joao.

smiling to yourself until the interview asked, “are you currently in a relationship? seeing someone?”

“no, im not seeing anyone right now.”

“so you’re available?”

“yes.”

his answer echoed in your head, repeating and repeating. sure you were fine with being private, especially with pressure in social media, but this?

publicly saying you’re available, acting like a person wasn’t waiting for you back home. you were tipped off, pissed even. did he not consider you worthy? were you just a replacement until he found someone new?

you turned off your phone, hand hanging off the side of the couch as you grip onto your device. staring onto the blank ceiling, the white light bulb still lighting up the room. the door creaks open, you raise your head to see joao entering the house. removing his shoes before stepping in. he walked over to you as you stood up, embracing you into a hug.

“hey babyy…” he mumbled. he was soft with you, in the field he’s fiery and aggressive but now he’s just soft and sweet. you heart warmed up, forgetting about the interview, passing it off as wanting to keep things more private and secured.

“let’s just take a shower can we… scrub my back for me?” he asked, using his dark puppy eyes again to get what he wants, his cheeks pouting. “fine…” you smiled, before leading him into the bathroom.

…

you forgot about that day, what happened. well you tried, you kept getting reminded about it. you were paranoid if he was out with someone else. you never showed it to him or anyone else. you acted unbothered.

you were at your office, getting off your seat for lunch break. you decide to go out to eat, forgetting to pack your own lunch. you walked to a nearby cafe, it was a local shop, not much customers around this time. you ordered a coffee and pasta. you sat down waiting for your order, scrolling in tiktok until you come across and familiar face, with another one.

you look closer to find joao, sat with magui in a restaurant. he only got back from international break a few days ago. you were heartbroken, everything inside you shattered to pieces.

scrolling through the comments on how he doesn’t learn his lesson and never move on. they were always right, he never made an effort to move on. your name was called, you order was already ready. turning off your phone to clear your thoughts and to bring back your tray.

you began eating your food, staring out the cafes glass window. blankly staring as people walked pass, going on with their day. you were finished with him, he was an asshole from the start.

after you finished your food, you went back to work. letting the hours pass by. but your thoughts never left, your legs bounced the whole time, you couldn’t focus properly.

your shift ended, you quickly grabbed your bag and things. going onto the elevator, unfortunately he was already there. you kept the gaze of your eyes lowered, not getting even a view of his face. quickly just wanting to get out.

you had your earphones on, nothing played. you just wanted joao to get off your back for now, once the doors opened. you rushed out, quickly running out the building. unfortunately joao caught up, he knew something happened to you.

he grabbed your wrist, making you turn to him. you stopped on your tracks, facing him, your eyes filled with hatred. joao was taken back.

“what happened baby?” he asked, his tone filled with pure sweetness.

this time you didn’t soften, you were done with him.

“seriously you’re gonna act nothing happened? with magui?” you took your hand back.

he was shock, his eyes widened. he didn’t expect her to find out, nor anyone.

“please i can explain darling-“ his face turned into a worry look.

“oh so you can call me a pet name but can’t even place a label between us?” you cut him off. “us? you really think friends would do anything like we do? after everything? don’t try to establish a relationship you don’t want.” you continued. tears started to build up in your eyes.

you ran off, before anyone could see you. getting into your apartment before breaking down. everything felt heavy, like the world was against you. your bedsheets stained with tears that will last.

…

it’s been weeks since then, you decide to walk over to the shore. its late at night, you couldn’t sleep from all the energy drinks you consumed from wanting to study longer. the moon was bright as ever.

you saw that same spot again, where everything started. you internship has ended while joaos loan contract wasn’t extended. you were glad you didn’t get to see him anymore. he’s back at portugal, but you also knew he would get to see magui again.

there was nothing you could do now, joao was cruel and deep like the ocean. but it would make sense if magui was the moon, affecting him like the ocean depended on her. you were simply a star, something you look for when the moon is not at sight.

daily click to help palestine

a/n : w2e save me… please save me w2e if you can hear me please😭😭 sorry but every good romcom mentions the smiths therefore it needs a place here

[backtothefanfiction]

Nightmares

Summary- Felix reassures you when you wake from a nightmare

Warnings: nightmares, mentions of death, mentions of knife attack, fluff, mentions of drug use, movie spoilers

A/N: in my world Felix lives

Summers at Saltburn Masterlist

No. No. “NO!”

You finally kick yourself awake only to feel an arm tense around your middle and the panic you felt in your dream comes flooding back. You begin kicking and crying out more but the arm around you stays steady and sure.

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay.” Felix’s voice coos. “It’s okay, you’re okay. It was just a bad dream.” He says, a soothing hand rubbing at your clammy back as you finally begin to settle, deep breathes desperately gulping down air to calm you. “It’s okay. It was just a dream.” He says. Just knowing he’s here and alive, not dead like in your dream was enough to help settle you.

You look around the room to ground you. As your eyes fall on the discarded golden wings from the night before you become tense again at the memory of the dream. So much for midsummer nights dream, more like midsummer nights nightmare. You were never touching drugs again.

“You wanna talk about it?” Felix asks as he continues to run soothing circles over your skin with his hand.

“It was Oliver.” Your timid voice finally said.

“What about him?” Felix asked as he brushed your hair away from your face, his fingers gently tucking it back behind your ear.

“He was killing everyone.” Your voice faltered as you once again looked to the wings, an image of Felix dead in the middle of the maze, an actually angel, placed itself back into your mind.

Noticing your fixation on the wings, Felix climbed from the bed. Grabbing the wings from the floor, he opened the window and threw them out before closing the window once more and climbing back into bed. His arms encircled you, holding you tight to his chest, as he snuggled you both back down amongst the pillows and bedsheets.

“He killed you and no one noticed until the following morning when we found you in the maze.” You quietly said against his chest.

“That sounds horrible…. How did he do it?” Felix murmured against the top of your head.

“He laced a bottle of champagne with cocain. It was a lethal overdose. It was so horrible when we found your body.”

You both sat in silence, both of you taking in the imagery of your dream before you continued.

“Venetia was suspicious first. The moment she started asking questions she was found in the bathtub having slit her wrists.”

Felix noticed how quiet and distant your voice was. He tried to shush you, tell you to forget about it, but you couldn’t until it was all out of your head. Proved wrong.

“He cornered me in the kitchen,” you said with a slight sniffle. The dream had felt so real. “He stabbed me. Plunged I knife straight into my stomach. When I was on the floor… he pinned me down- that’s when I woke up.” You said.

Felix had remained quiet the whole time you were recounting the nightmare. He felt how you finally relaxed once you had finished telling the tale back. “It’s okay. It wasn’t real.” He reassured, his soothing hand still running across your back, a chaste kiss to the top of your head. “Try and go back to sleep, he’ll be gone when we wake again.”

“Promise?” You ask behind sleepy eyes.

“Promise.”

[tookhimtomypenthouse]

Hate Yourself - Chapter One

series warnings: female!reader x oliver quick, past/implied felix x oliver, dub-con, stalker behavior, voyeurism, degradation, dacryphilia, bloodplay, gaslighting, manipulation, untagged story elements (the warnings aren't exhaustive!), DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT bbgirl

summary: you’re hired as a maid after Oliver comes to own Saltburn, and find your employer to be very invested in your work

minors dni!

Your palms felt sweaty as you gripped your bags, staring into the massive gates of the mansion. You were tempted to turn around and run as the grandiosity of the building overwhelmed you. It felt like the iron jaws of the gate could open and eat you at any moment. Your torment was short-lived, however, as the creaky gates opened as you nudged them forward. Just beyond the courtyard, imposing wood doors awaited. Gravel crunched underfoot as you made your way over to them. Just before you could knock upon the doors, they swung open to reveal a graying, stern man.

"Welcome to Saltburn, miss." The man gives you a tight smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "You must be the new housekeeper?"

"Yes, that would be me," you laugh awkwardly, unsure of what to say next. 

"Lovely to meet you. My name is Duncan, head butler. Anthony will take your bags to your quarters. Come, and I'll show you around the grounds." You set your bags down and hurry after Duncan, who, despite his age, has a considerable stride. 

Each room in the house seemed grander than the next. The soft autumn sunlight pouring in from the floor-to-ceiling windows illuminated the formal dining room. Sheer red curtains floated elegantly to the sides, fluttering as you swished by. 

"Wow," you breathe out as you catch a glimpse of the massive garden. You can't help but gape at the massive hedges that seem to form a huge wall of green or at the multiple elegant fountains spraying in the air. "The grounds are so beautiful."

Duncan casts a fleeting glance through the window and continues on with the tour. Your head spins as you try to remember all the rooms and build a mental map of the estate, but the rooms seem to never stop coming. You are lost in the task when you finally arrive in the master bedroom.

"Here is the master bedroom," Duncan says, startling you out of your trance. The room is grand, with large wooden furniture and sumptuous fabrics and paintings. The closet door is ajar, revealing a closet full of crisp suits and hanging shirts without a single wrinkle. Expensive ties are neatly tucked into an organizer above a row of pristine dress shoes. "Sir Oliver is particular about how this room is made up, but Lyuba will teach you the specifics later."

You give him a nod, soaking in the finery and sheer wealth of this place. It's a far cry from the squatty brick council house you grew up in. The momentary thought of home makes your eyes prickle. You push the thought away and follow Duncan as he continues. Tears won't help you navigate the maze that is Saltburn. 

~

You flop into your bed with a deep sigh. The rest of the day passed so quickly as Lyuba, the woman whose job you were taking over, taught you the ins and outs of the job. When you close your eyes, you swear you can still see towels and sheets being folded. Lyuba was impressed at the speed at which you picked up the proper technique for all the linens, but you were no match for her practiced hands. It would take some time before you perfectly replace the experienced housekeeper. No use worrying about it now, you thought as you slipped towards sleep. The room you had in the servant's quarter of the estate was still larger than any you'd ever stayed in.

Right before sleep could overtake you, you heard a loud creaking sound. Icy fear flooded into your chest as you bolted upright. Your eyes weren't adjusted to the room's darkness, but it didn't stop you from frantically peering into the dark for the source. Through the shadows, you couldn't make out anything specific. After a few moments, you noticed that your door was open a crack. Did I leave it open? You aren't sure if you did. Your furiously pounding heart starts to slow, and you rise out of bed to close it. It is an old house, right? Surely some shifting floorboards or creaking of the structure caused the sound. Must've forgotten to shut the door, too. You chided yourself for getting so worked up over the noise. Fears soothed, you climbed back into bed and dozed off.

~

"Not so much water," warned Lyuba as you went to lift the mop out of the bucket. You quickly wrung the mophead out a bit more before starting on the tiled floor. You and Lyuba cleaned one of the guest bathrooms mostly in silence, only interrupted when she caught a mistake you were making. You turn to see Lyuba's snowy white bun bobbing in time with her careful movements. The older woman was only going to stay to teach you until the end of the week before she embarked on her retirement. You were at first shocked to find she was the only maid for the sprawling estate, but you quickly realized why.

This place is a fucking ghost town.

It had been three days since your arrival, but you had only glimpsed the owner of this place a handful of times. He was the only actual resident, not counting the help. Oliver Quick was his name, according to Duncan. You were debating whether to ask Lyuba more or let the mystery about the man of the house linger.

Curiosity won.

"Lyuba," you started cautiously, "what is the owner like?" You notice her movement halt with your question.

"Why?" Her response comes almost as an accusation. She turns fully to face you, and her face searches yours carefully. 

"Oh, I just was wondering because I've hardly seen him," you reply, unsure of how to respond.

Lyuba shuffles close to you until you are nearly touching. She gently grabs your wrist. "Strange. Be careful, girl," she whispers in a gentle tone. "I worked for the family before him," she continues, hushed and serious as the grave, "and then he swoops in and inherits that place." She drops your wrist and stares into your eyes intently. "Practically a stranger when he-"

"Hello." You and Lyuba jump as you see a man leaning against the doorframe.

"H-hi," you stutter, taken by surprise. His eyes meet yours, and you're drawn in by the shocking blueness of them.

"My name is Oliver," he offers, "and you must be Lyuba's replacement?" A small smile makes its way across his face. 

"Yes," you breathe out and offer him your name. Your surprise at being interrupted fades, and you finally take him in. He wears a fine button-down shirt and slacks, his hair combed back without a single strand out of place. You suddenly feel shabby in your black uniform dress and messy hair. You flick your wet hands behind your back to try and appear more together. His unnerving gaze has you self-conscious.

"Pleasure to meet you. I'm sure Lyuba has taught you all you need to know." His eyes dart to her briefly but soon return to you. He stretches in the doorway, and you can't help but see the muscles of his arms under the thin cotton of the shirt. "It's nice to have a new face around."

"Ah," you splutter, face hot. "I'm sure it is." You can't help but feel skittish as he watches you return to your work. He'd always made himself scarce before today, so his presence feels overwhelming so near to you.

"We have much to do," cuts in Lyuba, her annoyance clear, "and we need to finish, sir." She turns her back to him and returns to her cleaning. 

"Of course," replies Oliver, lifting his hands in a gesture of resignation. "Don't stop on my account. I wouldn't dare interrupt her training." He backs out of the bathroom, but not before throwing you a small wink. 

You shake your head and return to your work. Lyuba's hushed condemnation and Oliver's surprise entrance have you cleaning in silence. You could practically taste the animosity between the two of them but get the sense you won't get much more out of Lyuba today. Instead, you pass the day with the gnawing feeling that you're missing something very important.

[stephstars08]

Always Running Away

Peter Pan x Reader

Warning: Adult Language, Mention of Reader’s Mother’s Death, Reader being Abused by Her Father, Mention of Mental and Physical Abuse, Mention of Alcoholism, Anxiety, Angst (Fluff at the End), and Possible Grammar Errors. (Let Me Know if I Forgot Any!!)

Summary: Y/N is the first and only lost girl on Neverland. All the boys think Y/N is only allowed to stay because of the abuse she gets from her father but there is another reason why Peter lets her stay on the island and that reason is why he always runs away from her.

Word Count: 1,501

Author’s Note: FINALLY I HAVE RELEASED A STORY! My first Peter Pan story is finally here, so sorry for the wait! I just recently started getting back into OUAT so that’s why I wanted to write for Peter Pan and I’m getting so many ideas for him so I hope you all enjoy!

Y/N is the first and only lost girl on Neverland. How she got to Neverland she doesn’t know since she just woke up on the island but why she was taken there she does know.

Y/N is a sixteen year old girl but she didn’t have your typical teenage girl life. Her mother died when she was just eight years old. Her mother died by drowning after saving her from drowning.

She took her mother’s death hard but no one took it harder than her father. He started to drink heavily which made him emotional and physically abuse Y/N. He would yell at her by telling her that it’s her fault that he mother is dead and that she’s nothing but a fucking mistake. He’s even told her that it should’ve been her that died instead of her mother.

There would be some nights that her father would get to mad at her that he would slap her so hard it would knock her down onto the floor or knock her into the wall or another piece of furniture breaking it. Then that would make him even more angry and say that it was her fault she broke something. No matter what Y/N did, it wasn’t good enough for her father.

When Y/N woke up on Neverland she was immediately found by a boy named Felix. Of course, Felix knew that Y/N was brought by the shadow. Before Felix could take her to Peter he had already showed up. Peter immediately noticed the bruises on Y/N’s arms and a big bruise on her cheek. After introducing each other Y/N told them everything that she knew. Peter asked about her bruises and she told him. Peter knew that he couldn’t just send her back to her abusive father. She’s been through enough and if he sends her back who knows if what would happen. He could end up killing her.

Peter let her stay and let her become the first lost girl. Everyone and Y/N thought that her background was the only reason why Peter let her stay on the island but Peter had another reason.

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

Y/N had just came back to camp after her daily morning walk she goes on. She saw Peter and Felix talking so she decided to walk over to them. “Hey guys!” Y/N said to the boys with a kind smile. “Hey Y/N.” Felix said back. “I got to go.” Peter said and walked away from them.

“Okay, why the fuck does he keep doing that!” Y/N said quickly becoming frustrated. Y/N has a good and close relationship with all the boys including Peter but recently every time she approaches him, he walks away from her. “I don’t know.” Felix shrugged. He does know why Peter keeps avoiding her but he knows he’s not the one to tell her.

“Did I do something wrong?” Y/N asked him with sadness in her eyes. “Listen Y/N, this is between you and Pan.” Felix told her. “You’re going to have to go talk to him.” Felix added which earned him a nod from her since she knew he was right.

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

As the day went on Y/N thought about what she was going to say to Peter. She always gets nervous when she goes to talk to Peter by herself. Y/N knows that she’s starting to develop feelings for Peter which does scare her. She knows how private Peter is. She knows how he closes off certain feelings. Maybe that’s why Peter keeps running away from her. Maybe he knows that she’s growing feelings for him.

Once Y/N knew what she was going to say to Peter she made her way to Peter’s cabin. When she got to Peter’s cabin door she could feel her nerves start to pace and her heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest. She really wanted to just run away but she knew she couldn’t so she took a deep and calming breath. Once she felt a little calmer she knocked on the door and waited. She was hoping he was in there.

When the door swung open there stood a surprised Peter. He doesn’t ever expect anyone to come to his cabin. “Y/N? What are you doing here?” Peter asked her. “I need to talk to you.” Y/N told him. “I’m busy.” Peter told her. He went to close the door but Y/N quickly stopped it with her hand. “Please Pan! It’s important.” Y/N told him in pleading tone. Peter let out a heavy sigh. He walked out of his cabin and shut the door.

“What do you need to talk to me about?” Peter asked her. “Do you hate me?” Y/N asked him which took him by surprise. She figured she would just get straight to the point. “Do I hate you? What kind of question is that?” Peter asked her with confusion in his voice. “Just please answer the question.” Y/N told him with a heavy sigh. She’s been having that question floating around her mind for what feels like forever. “No, of course I don’t hate you.” Peter answered her while shaking his head.

“Then why do you avoid me or walk away every time I approach you?” Y/N asked him with frustration in her voice. “It’s like you keep running away from me.” She added. “It’s complicated.” Peter told her looking away from her. “What? What do you mean by it’s complicated?” Y/N asked looking at him with confusion in her eyes. Peter just stayed silent since he didn’t know what to say.

“Do you want me to leave?” Y/N asked him which made him quickly look back at her. “Of course not!” Peter told her in a reassuring tone. “Then what is it? Did I do something wrong to make you run away from me?” Y/N said as her eyes started to fill with tears. Peter let out a sigh. Seeing the tears form in her eyes made him realize that he can’t keep in his secret anymore.

“I’m falling in love with you.” Peter confessed which took Y/N by surprise. “You have feelings for me?” Y/N asked in complete shock. Peter just gave her a nod. “I have feelings for you, too.” Y/N confessed to him. “You shouldn’t.” Peter told her. “What do you mean?” Y/N asked him. “Because I’m a fucking mess, Y/N.” Peter told her with a mixture of anger and frustration in his voice.

“I don’t know how to love. I just know how to cause pain to people. I hurt every person that gets close to me.” Peter told her which made her heart ache. “I can show you how to love.” Y/N told him. She went to put her hand onto his cheek but he took a step back from her.

“No.” Peter started. “You can’t. No one can.” Peter told her. He turned away from her and walked away leaving her all by herself.

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

As days went by Y/N was now the one running away from Peter. Peter feels awful for what he said and every time he goes to apologize she walks away from him.

The lost boys were hanging out together around the camp fire. Peter was sitting by the campfire on a log. He looked over at Y/N who was sitting on a log all by herself away from everyone. Peter stood up and walked over to her.

“Y/N, can I talk to you?” Peter asked her. “No.” Y/N answered without looking at him. She just stared down at the ground. “Please Y/N, it’s really important.” Peter said to her in pleading tone. When Y/N looked up at him she saw the pleading look in his green eyes. Y/N let out a heavy sigh in defeat. “Fine.” Y/N told him standing up from her seat on the log.

Y/N followed Peter in the woods so they were alone. “I want to take you up on your offer.” Peter told her which made Y/N’s heart skip a beat. “You do?” Y/N asked him in a soft tone. “My whole goal was to not hurt you but I obviously fucked that up by ignoring you.” Peter told her. Peter took both of her hands into his and gave them a light squeeze. “I want to be with you. I want you to teach me how to love.” Peter told her as his green eyes stared into her Y/E/C eyes. “Are you sure?” Y/N asked him. She doesn’t want to pressure him into doing something he’s not comfortable with. “Does this answer your question?” Peter started.

Before Y/N could say anything Peter connected his lips with hers. Y/N immediately melted into the kiss. She’s dreamed of this moment for so long that she couldn’t believe that it was actually happening. When they released from the kiss they had to catch their breaths.

“Pan-“ Y/N started to say but he cut her off. “Please, call me Peter.” Peter told her and reconnected his lips with hers.

[justkpopjokes]

SKZ’s reaction to being Trapped in an elevator with you

A/N: An idea from ummm 2020? Lmao I got trapped in an elevator once. Requests open :D

gender-neutral!reader, mix of romantic + platonic!

Bang Chan: “It’s okay, baby, stay calm. This is why there’s a call button built into the elevator.”

Waits a moment to see if the elevator will fix itself

Hugs you and rubs your back if you get scared

Then he presses the alert and/or call button in the elevator and handles the whole conversation until maintenance comes

Prioritizes you and does his best to keep the situation under control

Lee Know: “I can’t die now! I have three cats to raise!”

Startled but isn’t surprised; the elevator has been having issues all week and he’s been thinking about it every time he steps in

Kinda scared the elevator will fall—he’s definitely the type of person to plan on jumping as the elevator falls to supposedly minimize damage

Tries to distract himself while you handle the distress call

Suggests lifting you up to the top of the elevator like in spy movies until you remind him that there’s another set of doors on each floor of the elevator shaft

Changbin: “YO…yohhhh…sorry, sorry, where’s the distress button?”

Freaks out for a bit at first but quickly toughens up because he doesn’t want to worry you

Tries to distract you both from panicking with humour

Acts cool on call with maintenance to impress you 😎

The elevator is stuck near a floor, so he’s able to help push the door open and help you out!

Hyunjin: “AOUGH are we gonna die?? Okay, nevermind, we won’t…at least we brought food, right?”

Was returning from a snack run with you when the elevator crapped out and the lights started flickering

Is a drama queen until you open a bag of chips so he’ll stop yelling

You’re gonna have to handle the distress call simply because his mouth is full of snacks

Suggests making out to pass the time (he’s trying to distract himself)

Han: “Did you hear—WHAT WAS THAT?!”

Would panic before he even knows what’s happening! Thank goodness you’re there to calm him down

Latches onto you for comfort

You’d have to figure out which button to press and the call because he’s too stressed

Hugs you tightly even after you escape the elevator because “my life flashed before my eyes! I need to cherish you more!”

Felix: “Woah WOAH woah. Are you okay? You’re okay, right? Don’t worry, let’s handle this together.”

Pretends not to panic but spams whatever assist buttons they have and the “open door” one even though it doesn’t work

Clears his throat and makes sure to use his deep voice when on call to show you he isn’t scared. He isn’t! Not worried at all!!

Holds your hand and does deep breathing exercises with you to keep you both calm

Will massage your head for you to help you relax

Seungmin: “Ugh, I hate when this happens. Give it a minute.”

This is the guy who had a helicopter crash into his building and was unphased… unbothered king™��� could not give a crap about the elevator

Is two minutes away from lock picking a control panel to try and fix it himself (he can’t. He’s just bored)

The elevator is trapped between floors even though the door opens—he’s ready to help lift you up through the gap just to get help quicker

You refuse because you don’t want to leave him behind, so you play a game with him to pass the time

I.N: “Um…we’re supposed to call someone, right? But my phone is dead!”

Is honestly unsure what to do…Is praying in his head that the elevator fixes itself first so you don’t need to call for help

His finger hesitates over the alarm/call button while his other hand holds yours tightly

Asks if you have snacks so he can stress eat while you wait for help

Immediately searches up “what to do when trapped in an elevator” the moment you’re out in order to prepare for the future